Bullet Through Your Face (improved format) (38 page)

Hays picked up Majora’s gun, then walked over to the lab table
on which he placed Majora’s briefcase and opened it. “All
kinds
of
poop in here, boss. First off, as we already suspected, she ain’t no
Army officer. She’s in the blammed F.B.I.”

Dang!
the Chief thought. Then he turned to Majora. “Is this true?”
“I’m afraid so, Chief Kinion,” Majora answered. “It’s all part
of a federal disinformation strategy that’s worked for fifty years.
Impersonation of other agencies to decredulize the witness. The
same with context—by fabricating the lie which claimed that Doctor
Willis was involved in the selling ammunition technologies to
terrorist governments, I was able to supplant myself in your midst,
so to speak, by which I could investigate the
real
point of concern.”
“Uh . . . huh,” the Chief respondered. “Sounds more ta me like
you’re just plumb crazy.” Then he turned to the PFC. “Hays, ya
know what she just done tolt me? She said this here 2-liter Coke
bottle is full’a . . . well . . . spunk.”

Chief Kinion dropped the bottle immediatly, where it
thunked
on
the floor, and since its cap was still off, it—
gullup-gullup-gullup
—
emptied onto the lab floor. Chief Kinion gulped’n glanced down. It,
well, it shore as hail looked like spunk comin’ out that bottle.

“You’re problee wonderin’,” Hays postulated, “how so much
petersnot come ta fill that whole bottle—”
“The average male ejaculation,” Majora added, “comprises a
liquid volume of 7cc’s—about enough to fill an eyedropper.”
Kinion’s eyeballs went wide at the size’a the puddle on the floor.
“Then how the
hail—”
“Check it out, Chief. This briefcase is chock
full
of papers like
this,” Hays said, and handed the Chief a sheet.
Kinion’s eyes remained bugged-out as he read:

TOP SECRET
SPECIAL ACCESS REQUIRED/EYES ONLY
TEKNA/BYMAN/UMBRA/SI

“Dang straight, boss,” Hays confirmed.
“And . . . what the hail—”
Hays sliced a grin at Majora. “Captain—er, I should say
Special

Agent
Majora. I thank it’s only fittin’and proper that
you
explain the rest.”
Majora’s eyes cast down in dejection. “It’s about I.G.E.’s, Chief Kinion—that’s Intra-galactic Entities.”
“The
hail?”
Kinion affirmed his confusion.
“Aliens,”
Majora went on. “Aparticular species we’ve identified as coming from
the M34 Star Cluster; every 6 years and 25 days—in accordance with what
is known as a an epicycular apogee, and by classified technological
detection systems such as the MADAM—
that is the Mass-Activated-Detection-Activation-Mechanism—and the
H.R.M.S.—the High Resolution Microwave Survey—in other words, Chief,
airborn-detection technologies which vastly exceed the capabilities of
traditional high-and low-frequency radar systems,
every 6 years and 25 days, this craft, in collusion with certain
members of our own race, returns to earth in order to replenish a
particular substance that their own race can no longer provide in order
to propagate their civilization.”
“Huh?” the Chief said.
“Sperm, Chief. The M34 alien race can no longer produce the necessary
sperm to keep their civilization in a state of replication, at least
not without help, I should say. Doctor Willis really had nothing to do
with it—I implicated him in the specious primer-technology
conspiracy for the reasons I’ve previously described—to divert the
attentions of your own investigation from the actual truth. In
actuality, it was
Mrs.
Willis who originally effected communicative contact with the M34
aliens, some 12 years ago, via her abuse of NSA
radiotelescope receiving devices, after which she married Doctor Willis
under a less-than-truthful guise so to embezzle money from his bank
account in order to maintain contact with the aliens . . . and to
assist them in their quest.”
“Their quest fer . . .
sperm?
” Kinion queried.
“That’s right, Chief,” Hays piped up. “That’s what these blammed aliens want from us. They want a good rasher of our
petersnot ta keep themselfs goin’ till the next time they kin come
back. You know, Chief, our spunk, our peckerjuice, our dicksnot, our
cock-hock, our—”

Hays again: “And, see, them aliens was in cahoots with Mrs.
Willis, and what she were doin’ was givin’ ‘em the best locations fer
gittin’the most dick-loogie in as short as time as posserble on account
they can only be here fer a short time ‘fore they gotta go back.”

“It’s called a straticular apogic-de
flection window, Chief,”
Majora added. “Think of it as a window of opportunity. The aliens
only have a space of about one day before they can arrive, achieve
their collection priorities, and leave. If they leave late, they’ll never
get back to their own planet; earth’s orbital angle would be off.”

Hays were noddin’. “And, see, Chief, there’s more. But first, I’se
got me a question fer Miss Majora.” He looked her right in the eye.
“See, I bushwhacked Mrs. Willis back at your motel room when she
tried ta do the job on me, but . . . she kept sayin’something about a . . .
Supremess.
The hail is that?”