Kevian’s stomach tightened. He hated the G-force on takeoffs. Fortunately, the pressure didn’t last long. The shuttlecraft entered Earth’s orbit and the gravitational pull lessened. The shuttle’s artificial gravity kicked in achieving the perfect balance that Kevian knew, given the ship’s speed, he would not have long to enjoy. He glanced at the control panel as Dargan piloted the shuttlecraft. “How long before re-entry?”
“About forty-five minutes,” Dargan said. “I’m going to re-enter the stratosphere at the point where we got our last reading from the downed shuttlecraft. Then I’ll continue on the same trajectory and hope its emergency beacon signals us as we pass.”
Kevian nodded and tried to doze off. This was the boring part of the mission. He got a little rest but then woke up. Zarg sat in the co-pilot’s seat in front of Kevian. Zarg’s voice drifted back to him. “As we’re traveling to an earlier time zone it will still be dark, which will make our presence less noticeable. However, even with our cloaking efforts there’s a chance one of the human countries we fly over might detect us on their radar and launch fighter crafts to engage us. If that happens, what are your orders, my prince? Should we break off the search and return to orbit?”
“No,” Kevian said. “The shuttlecraft occupants could be grievously injured. We don’t have time for discretion. If any Earth aircraft approach us fire on them and make sure you destroy them.”
Zarg arched an eyebrow. “That might prevent them from reporting back to their base with details of our shuttlecraft or from engaging us in battle, but the destruction of their aircraft would undoubtedly invite a higher degree of scrutiny. The humans will want to know who destroyed the craft. They’ll launch more aircraft.”
“Then we’ll destroy them, as well.”
“Your father has been emphatic about the need to hide our presence from the humans so as not to jeopardize our primary mission. If we re-entered orbit and returned later—”
“My father is not commanding this mission,” Kevian snapped. “I shall answer to my father, but I am the prince and you answer to me.”
“Yes, my prince,” Zarg said.
Kevian regained his composure. “If this were a salvage mission, then I’d consider returning at a later time to locate and destroy the remains of the shuttlecraft; although once the humans spot us they’ll be on high alert and prepared for our return. But until we know for certain that our people are dead, we have to consider this a rescue mission. We’ll never have a better opportunity than now, during the night when they don’t suspect our presence.”
“I understand, my prince,” Zarg said.
“Dargan, how much longer?” Kevian asked.
“We’ll be re-entering the stratosphere in a few more minutes, my prince.”
“Good.” Kevian sighed. “You’re good men; I understand your concerns. There are aspects of this rescue mission that are on a need-to-know basis. I don’t want rumors floating around the command ship, or worse, getting back to the home world. We don’t know why the shuttlecraft crashed. It could have been a malfunction, or pilot error, or it could have been shot down. If it was the latter, then we’ll need to be prepared for hostile action. We could be fired upon the moment we re-enter Earth’s atmosphere.”
“Understood, my prince.” Zarg said. “I’m prepared to return fire immediately whether it comes from the ground or the air.”
“What I haven’t told you,” Kevian continued, “is that Princess Kira was on board the downed shuttlecraft.”
Dargan and Zarg gasped.
“We will not return without the princess… Or her body.” Kevian grimaced. “This may not be a raptor but we have enough firepower on this shuttlecraft to destroy anything that primitive humans launch at us.”
“Approaching re-entry point now, my prince,” Dargan said.
The shuttlecraft began its deceleration above the African continent. Once it had obtained a cruising altitude within the lower stratosphere, its speed slowed to a crawl.
“Following the original shuttlecraft’s trajectory, my prince,” Dargan said. They continued to cruise along. Then, Dargan’s eyes darted to the control panel. “My prince! The beacon has activated.”
“Land as close to its coordinates as you can,” Kevian said.
The shuttlecraft began its descent. “Scanning the area with sensors, my prince,” Dargan said. “I’ve located the shuttlecraft. It appears to be intact. There are life signs aboard the ship.”
Kevian breathed a sigh of relief. “Zarg, once we land, remain in the ship and monitor the sensors for human life signs. Signal me immediately if any approach. Dargan, I’ll bring the first aid kits and you inspect the shuttlecraft for damage. Let me know if it can be repaired or if we must destroy it. No one leaves our shuttlecraft without a side arm. If we are attacked at any point, don’t wait for my instructions; shoot to kill.”
Dargan and Zarg nodded. Dargan landed the rescue shuttlecraft in the clearing a few yards from Kira’s downed shuttlecraft.
The offices of The Daily Inquisitor were located in a squalid storefront behind a seedy downtown bar and next to a pizza take-out place. Veronica Fontaine was used to finding drunks urinating on her car’s tires in the parking lot. The bar had a late-night liquor license and the parking lot, which it shared with the newspaper office and the pizza joint, always had the lingering odor of pizza and piss. Veronica walked into the office and it was as if she had walked into a scene from an old mid-20th century movie. There were no fluorescent lights, only scattered light bulbs dangling from the ceiling with a length of string to turn them on or off. Spinning ceiling fans made the papers held down on the desks by paperweights flutter as if in a vain effort to escape the squalor. Most of the desks had typewriters, not computers. And beside most of the typewriters were ashtrays. Smoking was not prohibited in The Daily Inquisitor’s office; it was de rigueur.
The office was almost deserted, save for one reporter in a crumpled suit leaning back in his chair, his feet propped on his desk and a cigar in his mouth. A shabby overcoat, folded several times, was propped against his head as a makeshift pillow. He opened his bottom right desk drawer and pulled out a glass and a half-empty bottle of whiskey. He poured some into the glass, swished it around a bit, and then chugged it in a single gulp. He refilled the glass and offered it to Veronica. “You look like you could use a drink tonight,” he said in a raspy voice.
Veronica accepted the glass and took a swig. “Thanks, Pete. I needed that.”
He nodded. “That much was obvious. The question is why. What’s a single gal like you spending her night in this sorry excuse for a newsroom for? Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
Veronica sighed. “I’ve hit a brick wall, Pete. I’m chasing the biggest story of my career and… Wham. Smack-faced into the wall.”
“It happens. Everyone chases after the holy grail. Elusive son of a bitch though, ain’t it?”
She raised her glass to him. “That’s why I’ve come to the old pro. Mentor me. I can’t let this fish slip away.”
“Go ahead. Pour your heart out. I didn’t have any other plans for tonight.”
“One condition: the byline is mine. This is going to be my ticket out of this dump.”
He took a drag on his cigar. “Fine by me. One man’s dump is another’s palace. I’m not looking to go anywhere. Thirty years ago I had my stint at the Times and the Post. Now I’m content to be exactly what you see.” Pete Riley grinned. “But I still like a good story. So what is it?”
“A kid reluctant to talk about something unbelievable he claims to have seen… Which makes him believable as a source. Pieces of a puzzle that are starting to fit together. If it’s legit, it’ll make Woodward and Bernstein look like high school gossip reporters.”
Riley took a swig from the glass and refilled it. “And if it turns out to be a load of malarkey, you’re no worse off; it’s just another typical story for The Daily Inquisitor.”
“I’m convinced there’s a cover-up. That dead girl a month or so ago; before her there were two dozen young women who went missing.”
“You still touting your alien abduction theory?”
“Possibly. Or maybe they found out something they shouldn’t have and someone went to extreme lengths to make sure they didn’t talk. Or maybe it’s both.”
“Aliens killing people to cover their tracks? Interesting hook, but what are they hiding? Are you suggesting all these women stumbled onto the aliens and they were killed so they wouldn’t tell people the aliens are here? That doesn’t make much sense considering the Inquisitor has been sounding the alarm on alien visitations for years.”
Veronica shook her head. “We print those stories to sell newspapers but we’ve never had any real proof that aliens exist. No one believes it for one obvious reason: out of all the billions of planets in the universe why would they choose Earth?”
Riley puffed on his cigar. “Low sales taxes? Free HBO at the Motel 6?”
“What has Earth got that no other planet in the solar system has?”
“Arrogant and stupid people.”
“More basic than that.”
“Life: Humans, cows, fish.”
“There’s no life on the moon or on Mars because they have no atmosphere,” Veronica said. “But fish don’t breathe air so why are there no fish?”
Riley looked at her cockeyed. “Why are there no fish on the moon?” He read the label on the whiskey bottle to make sure it was only 80 proof. “Fine, I’ll play along. There are no fish on the moon because there ain’t no water on the moon.”
“No water on Mars, either. NASA has sent probes into deep space that have sent back thousands of photographs of many, many planets. None of them have water, either. It’s a scarce commodity in our galaxy, and possibly even in the universe. We know for certain a planet can’t sustain life without a significant quantity of water. When NASA looks for aliens, they’re really looking for planets with enough water to sustain life and they haven’t found any yet. That’s why people don’t believe in aliens. If they exist, they’re out there on a planet very far away. But we know one thing about them: they need water to survive. What if they were running low? Where would they go to fill up the metaphorical tank? You want to know why aliens would visit Earth? Because water is a scarce commodity everywhere else in the universe and our planet consists of seventy-one percent water.”
Riley whistled. “You’re saying the Earth is a cosmic gas station for aliens?” He held up the glass. “Free glass with every fill-up?”
“I’m serious. Think about it, Pete. It’s a valid reason why aliens would choose Earth to visit over every other planet. It’s also a reason they wouldn’t want anyone to know about, because if they take all of our water then Earth would be as lifeless as the moon.”
“It’s a good story; I’ll grant you that. But it’s got a huge flaw. Your aliens can’t just arrive in an intergalactic tow truck and tow the Earth to the other side of the universe. Like you said, the Earth is nearly three-quarters water. How would they move it?”
“How does a city remove massive quantities of snow after a blizzard? They melt it. They change it back into water. We have to assume aliens that have the technology to travel across the entire universe might also have the means to transform atoms or molecules into a form that makes them more easily transportable.”
“Now you’re talking alien alchemy.”
“For them, water is their gold. Alien technology used to change the atomic structure of water into something much smaller and lighter that can be transported through space and then changed back.”
“Even if I bought into that hogwash, there’s no practical way to do it. There are five oceans and they may all be interconnected but what are the aliens going to do? Stick a giant straw into one of the oceans and start sucking out water?”
“Of course not,” Veronica said. “They need to build facilities to drain and convert the water along all the coastlines in the world.”
“Exactly,” Riley said. “And how preposterous is that?”
Veronica smiled. “Remember your friend Mr. Bellamy at the Neptune Corporation? He told me Neptune was embarking on the largest infrastructure program in the history of the world: the construction of water reclamation plants on coastlines all over the planet. What if they’re not building desalination plants? What if those plants are meant to do something else to the water besides remove the salt from it?”
Riley rubbed his brow. “It’s crazy… and yet, in an insane way it makes sense.”
“Sending a man to the moon is crazy. Carrying a tiny phone in your pocket that lets you talk to anyone on Earth is crazy. Technology is always crazy until it becomes reality. Who knows what alien technology is capable of?”
“But the scope of what you’re suggesting…”
“Exactly. Pete, you know one of the biggest arguments against building desalination plants to transform saltwater into freshwater has been the cost of construction of a single plant. Neptune is building hundreds of plants all over the world. How expensive is that? Where are they getting the money from? What does anyone really know about the Neptune Corporation? I’ve been doing some research; ten years ago it didn’t exist. Yet they can afford to build all those plants, spread across the globe? Now that’s crazy, Pete.”