FSF Magazine, June 2007 Page 15

  Either way, Wang must be disappointed with the lack of progress he'd made today. Extraterrestrial or enemy construct who was rapidly learning English wasn't exactly what the NSA or the government would be hoping for. Location, intention, and capability were more like it, and he estimated his chances of getting those answers in the near future somewhere between highly unlikely and not at all.

  He remembered a time in his childhood when the search for extraterrestrial intelligence had been a hot topic, but decades of no results had taken their toll; people had given up expecting E.T. to arrive or even signal his existence—or even the son of E.T., lord what a terrible sequel that was! And if this really was an alien they were dealing with, where was the mother ship? If there was one, NASA's Near Earth Asteroid Tracking facilities at Maui or Palomar would surely have found it. A society that put space hotels and telescopes and solar mirrors into orbit ought to be able to manage that much.

  It scared him to think the future of humanity might be balanced on so small a thing as the first words an alien learned from an unprepared teacher. He was embarrassed to think his dissertation had even hinted the process might be easy. And what impression were they making on an obviously superior alien visitor by keeping him locked up, interacting with him in a sterile interrogation room—and who knew what else he personally wasn't aware of? Whatever happened here at Fort Meade, there were going to be repercussions down the line.

  When he opened the door to his room, he found it lit by one small lamp on the bedside table. Warm shadows blurred the hotel-style furnishings, lending a cozy air of invitation to the room, and there was a heady scent he hadn't noticed before. The circle of light drew his attention to the bed where the covers had been turned back for him in best hotel fashion. But unlike any hotel he'd experienced, there was a woman in his bed.

  "Hi,” she said in a husky voice. “Thought you might like some company."

  Wang's intern smiled at him. With one hand she slowly pushed the sheet down so he could see she was naked. Her body was lovely, full and rosy and inviting.

  He had an instant reaction to her invitation. Not so fast! his brain warned. He'd halfway expected to get her in bed sometime, just not this quick. His brain was overruled by the spreading warmth of his arousal. Don't question gift horses!

  "Come here and let me undo your shirt buttons.” She patted the bed beside her.

  "Whoa, Corinne,” he said. “This is a bit fast, don't you think?"

  "You deserve a little R and R."

  "Damn straight!” He dropped down on the bed beside her, aware of the Cabernet buzz that seemed to have unstrung his muscles, and let her fingers tiptoe over his bare chest. “You sure this would play okay with your boss?"

  She pouted. “Why does he have to know what we do on our own time?"

  That sounded reasonable. And nobody had told him not to fraternize with the staff. In fact, they hadn't told him much of anything. Corinne probably went to bed with any guy with power in the building, but so what? No harm in a little fooling around; he'd certainly earned it today. He could feel the tension of the day draining out of him at her touch. “That's great. You're wonderful."

  She laughed. “I bet you say that to all the women."

  "Not at all. I like women, but—"

  She covered his mouth with hers, cutting off his protest.

  That was the last coherent thought he had for a long while.

  Afterward, he lay back sweaty and exhausted with Corinne in the curve of his arm. Wang was probably going to be pissed if he found out, he thought, but thinking was still a hazy process and the thought slipped away in his general sense of well-being.

  "Whew!” He shook his head. “Wow."

  She propped herself up on an elbow and gazed down at him. “And I thought you were a language expert!” she teased. “Stay right there, lover boy. I brought some wine."

  He closed his eyes, content to be told what to do by this gorgeous young woman who apparently found him irresistible. He heard the sound of a cork being drawn and liquid splashing into glass.

  A moment later she said, “Hold still."

  He felt her mouth close over his, gently forcing his lips to part, then a small stream of wine made its way over his tongue and slid like cool fire down his throat.

  "Mmm. Great.” One word at a time seemed about all he could dredge up.

  "You ready for more?"

  "Wine ... or sex?” he managed to ask.

  He heard her throaty laugh again, and he wrapped both arms around her and pulled her down on his chest, spilling wine all over himself and the bed. He didn't care. She was right; he'd needed this.

  "Poor Jamal,” she whispered against his skin. “You were so tense. They're expecting too much from you."

  "They expect a miracle."

  "Do you want to talk about it? I mean, my boss obviously debriefs you on the details, but I'll bet you don't get to release the emotions you must be going through. Men never talk to each other about their emotions."

  He tousled her hair playfully. She might be a power junkie, but there was that indefinable air of innocence about her that appealed to him. “Real men don't have emotions."

  "You could've fooled me,” she said.

  The giddiness of the last few minutes faded slowly away and he lay back, his body pleasantly relaxed. “It doesn't make any sense, Corinne. This guy—I have no clue what his name is or anything else about him—he's got to be highly intelligent. I thought I was sharp, but I couldn't learn a language anywhere near as fast as he seems to have done in just two sessions."

  "You're getting him to speak English? Well, that's progress, isn't it? My boss thought he might be a mute."

  "He can speak all right, but he doesn't connect. No reaction to anything. No emotion."

  "A real man?” she teased.

  He punched her arm lightly. She rewarded him with another sip of wine by personal delivery. The combination of physical exhaustion, sex and alcohol was overwhelming. He felt as if he were floating.

  "Seems odd that we're devoting so many resources to a vagrant,” she said.

  "Whatever he is, the guy's not a vagrant. One look at him tells you he's more than that."

  "I don't have the clearance to see him. Wang's keeping him under wraps."

  His head cleared suddenly and he was uneasy. If she didn't have clearance to see the alien, maybe he shouldn't be talking about him with her. Nobody had bothered to clue him in about who he could talk to and who not. Damn this cloak and dagger stuff. He hated it. But maybe he should be a little cautious what he said to an over-eager intern.

  "Maybe Wang's wrong and the guy's just a nutcase,” he said, careful to keep his tone casual.

  "Actually, he sounds autistic,” she said. “I live with my sister and her youngest is autistic. Scores high on IQ tests, but he shows no emotional connection to the family, even his mother."

  He rolled over on top of her. “Yeah, that's probably it. Now. How about—"

  "If that's the case, we shouldn't be keeping him locked up. Laws protecting people with disabilities have been on the books a very long time. And why's the boss so secretive about him if he's just a poor autistic person? My sister knows a lot of people around here who'd be upset about that if—"

  "People would be upset if they thought he was autistic?"

  "You know what I mean.” She made another pouty face at him.

  "Let me show you what I mean,” he said, relieved to be back on safer ground.

  * * * *

  Aldo Glenys was waiting for him the next morning, seated on a lounge near the elevator. The agent glanced at his watch as Jamal appeared.

  "So it's almost noon. I'm late,” Jamal said. “Why didn't you knock on my door?"

  "You had company last night. I thought you might need some extra sleep."

  Corinne had left before dawn, early enough no one would be around to see her, or so he'd thought. “Can't keep anything from the NSA, apparently."

  "It's your business
. Shall we get on with the government's?"

  He noted a cooler tone in the man's voice and wondered again what exactly was Glenys's role here. Obviously he had to be more than Jamal's babysitter. He'd started to slip into thinking of the situation as “Us:” himself, the alien, and Glenys, and “Them:” the two agents and whoever was behind the mirror. Remembering his earlier suspicion about Glenys, he decided that might be a misjudgment.

  "Right. It's my business,” he said. “And while we're at it, I'd like to request a change of scene. I'm tired of staring at my reflection in a one-way mirror, knowing some NSA wonk is probably staring right back."

  "What did you have in mind?"

  Glenys's face betrayed no reaction to the request. Almost as frustrating as talking to the alien, he thought.

  "A trip to the mall. A visit to the zoo.” He was amused to see a flicker of disapproval in Glenys's eyes.

  "I doubt Wang will agree to a public appearance,” Glenys said dryly, touching the comm unit he wore. He spoke briefly for a couple of seconds, then touched the device to turn it off; he palmed the sensor pad to summon the elevator.

  Neither spoke as the elevator moved. When the doors opened again on the floor where the interrogation room was located, Jamal saw the two agents waiting outside.

  Glenys's comm pinged. Jamal walked on ahead, conscious of the murmured one-sided conversation behind him.

  "Yes sir—Of course—No, not at all—Yes sir."

  "You tell Wang I'm not working on this any further if I don't have full control,” Jamal said over his shoulder. Fighting words the Tuskegee airman would've approved, no doubt.

  The guard nodded to Jamal and opened the door. He went into the room.

  "Wang wasn't happy about it,” Glenys said as he came in, followed by the agents. “But he gave permission for a brief outing on the grounds. We're to make sure our friend doesn't take his clothes off."

  Jamal howled with laughter, startling the alien who was sitting at the table this morning.

  "Wang doesn't want him attracting attention,” Glenys said lamely. “And we're to have an armed escort."

  He stopped laughing. “What for? An alien that can suddenly appear in front of state troopers can just as quickly disappear in front of an armed escort."

  "Maybe it's for our protection."

  "If he was going to harm us, he's had a lot of opportunity to do it already!"

  The alien was staring at them—taking it all in, understanding every word no doubt. Jamal felt disconnected this morning, further away from understanding than the day he'd started. If what he'd just said to Glenys was right, why was the alien still here? Presumably he could leave any time he wanted. His presence meant he still wanted something. His mission is to learn about us, Glenys had said. But what was he learning? And he himself was no further along. Without a single example of the alien's language, he couldn't begin to test his hypothesis. If this was the way things were going to be in the future, a series of confusing, frustrating encounters with aliens, he didn't want any part of it.

  "Let's go,” he said abruptly. It came out lezgo, and he was perversely glad to see by the alien's brief hesitation that he didn't immediately grasp the ellipsis. Humans one, Extraterrestrials zero, he thought sourly. “And you can tell Tweedledum and Tweedledee they're not wanted on the expedition."

  Glenys started to argue, then stopped and made a small motion with his hand to the agents. They stayed behind as Jamal escorted the alien out of the room.

  He saw right away he'd only won a partial victory. Two young soldiers in paisley camouflage fatigues with automatics bulking black against their hips fell in with them as they walked to the elevator. The alien towered over all of them. Five crowded into the cab's small space was claustrophobic. Nobody spoke. He was aware of his arm pressed against the alien's arm. There was no electric tingle, no sensation of power conveyed one way or the other in the contact today. Reassuring, but also disappointing.

  Outside, clouds raced across the sky, pushed by a cool wind laced with the smell of wet earth promising a storm before evening. One on either side of the alien, Jamal and Glenys walked ahead of the soldiers who dropped a few paces behind. They headed for a small stand of immature fir trees. A hundred yards away, a group of men in dark suits and women carrying briefcases and bright umbrellas hurried toward a bland stone building, its roof bristling with antennae and sprouting dishes like ears tuned to the world's secrets. One woman in a pink raincoat reminded him of Wang's intern. Overhead, a dark, unmarked chopper tilted quietly in, heading for an unseen landing site, its rotors churning the damp air, chilling the back of his neck. He pulled up the collar of his parka.

  New scenery meant an opportunity for new vocabulary, and he supplied it. Tree, cone, grass, stone, rain, dirt, sky, cloud, bird, wind, car—all either pointed at or pantomimed. But no amount of effort brought even one alien word in return.

  "The rain that falls is cold,” the alien said suddenly. “But all things that live on Earth need water."

  They both stared at him. Jamal became aware his mouth was open and shut it hurriedly. “Where did he learn embedded structure?"

  "The videos I gave him to watch last night, probably."

  Jamal shook his head. “Do you ever think this might not be such a good idea?"

  "All the time,” Glenys said.

  Ahead of them lay a small ornamental pond, dappled with the light rain; it appeared to be a recent addition along with the spindly trees, a green breathing space, an afterthought in the middle of all the concrete. The pond was occupied by two ducks and an opportunistic seagull. A stone bench had been placed under firs that needed another couple of years’ growth before they'd provide shade; beside it, a trash receptacle. It was a place where staff could eat lunch, forgetting for the moment they were in the middle of the fortress of Fort Meade, its high wire fence just a few yards away. A very human kind of place, he thought, kind of like Planet Earth itself, small, insignificant, surrounded by a vast and hostile space.

  He sat with Glenys, watching the alien who had moved to the water's edge and was apparently observing the birds. What was he learning about this planet he'd landed on, Jamal wondered, and what would he do with the information? One thing was certain, he didn't see any need to confide his impressions to his hosts.

  The soldiers loitered a few paces away; he heard one murmuring into his comm unit. Thunder rolled briefly in the distance; there was an electric urgency in the air. Going to be a wet afternoon, he thought.

  "Why can't I get through to him, Glenys? He's obviously intelligent enough to understand what we want."

  "Dangerous to make assumptions. It's a disadvantage that he looks human."

  The alien was squatting now. The ducks approached him hopefully through the gray mist of rain, trailing long vees in the water. The gull took flight, circling his head, squawking harshly.

  "Hard to believe this is really happening, isn't it? Here we are with a real freaking alien, and people going about their business outside that fence with absolutely no idea."

  "Just as well. Not a lot of sympathy for us from civilians at any time. We have a full-time protest group outside the main gate."

  "What're they protesting?"

  "Anything and everything. Our existence, I guess."

  Jamal felt unsettled, as if he were about to come down with the flu. “You know what really bothers me? Where are the others? He can't have come any great distance through space all by himself."

  "We're working on that."

  "'We?’”

  "NASA, mostly. Other agencies I'm not at liberty to name."

  He glanced at the two soldiers who were carefully not looking at them. “We keep coming back to the same question: Why is he here at all?"

  "To learn our language? It may be the only thing we have that's worth taking right now."

  "If that's the case, he had the opportunity to learn several before I got to him."

  "His race is obviously far ahead of ours technically
. They're not afraid to drop a live being in Maryland for the initial contact instead of an automated probe."

  "Damn lucky choice! Showing up naked in public some places around the world would've got him killed immediately."

  "At least we ask questions first,” Glenys said.

  Jamal took his frustration out by lobbing small green pine cones into the trash can. The rain came down harder. “Time to go inside."

  When he looked back at the pond, the alien wasn't there.

  "What the hell? Glenys—Where'd he go? Where is he?"

  Glenys spoke rapidly into his comm unit, then pointed. “He's heading for the main gate."

  The alien was loping steadily in a straight line across the parking lot toward the high, armored fence surrounding the NSA compound. Jamal was astounded at how far he'd gone already. He'd only taken his eye off the alien for a moment.

  "The guards will stop him at the gate,” Glenys said. “They have orders not to let anyone in or out without authorization."

  "That's what I'm afraid of. He'll walk right into their weapons!"

  Alarmed by Jamal's outburst, the two escort soldiers had unholstered their guns.

  "Just catch him,” he shouted at them. “Don't shoot him!” He broke into a run, yelling: “Wait!"

  Not a word he'd introduced yet. Damn. He was afraid that any minute the alien would get shot or repeat his stunning appearance in reverse. Wang was going to nail his hide to the wall if he let either happen. Panting, adrenaline flooding his muscles, he pounded across the tarmac. He could see the main gate in the fence and a dark-colored limousine making its way through into the compound. The guards apparently hadn't noticed the alien running toward them yet; their attention seemed drawn to something happening outside the gate. Now he could see a small crowd of people gathering out there, some of them unfolding a banner.

  The alien had almost reached the gate before the guards noticed him. Jamal saw their weapons swing up into position.

  "Don't do it!” he yelled. “Friend!” He was breathing heavily, slowing in spite of his urgent need to keep going. There was a bitter, metallic taste in his mouth.