Trespassers: a science-fiction novel (3 page)

The reason that Stewart and Web didn
’
t use the new guy
’
s name or even bother to commit it to memory was simple: the steady turnover of new guys on the team made it pointless. Those with military backgrounds
—
the armed services
’
best of the best
—
didn
’
t seem to mesh well with alien life-forms. The grueling training involved in sculpting a strong, young cadet into an even stronger elite fighting machine seemed to instill in the soldier a sense of reality that left no room for aliens. However, the powers that be decreed that Stewart
’
s team must have an elite military operative at all times. This resulted in a revolving door of military specialists.

This particular new guy was from that same mold. He looked as if he had just come from a regional bodybuilding competition. He wore the standard military haircut. His eyes were piercing, though slightly empty, and his jaw was chiseled and constantly clenched. He scanned the landscape. All was clear.

Inside the ship, Stewart had removed a panel from below the console. His hand reached past a tangle of cords and felt around in the darkness. There in the back he found it: the alien version of a breaker switch. By resetting it, the console would restart. It was a simple solution, and he knew from past experience that even if all the power was cut to the ship, it would still hover in place.

Back on the ridge, looking through his scope, New Guy saw a man walking up the hill. He recognized the face from a photo he had been shown during his briefing.

Inside the spaceship, Stewart flipped the first breaker switch, and nothing happened. He flipped the next switch, and outside, suddenly the ship was completely visible. New Guy broke his contact with the man in the scope and stared at the huge ship floating over Mindy, who was gradually covered in shadow, as the effects of the cloaking device wore off.

“
Is that going to fall on me?
”
Mindy asked, without receiving an answer.

Inside the ship, Stewart flipped the third set of switches. The main console went out, dead as a doornail. He laughed victoriously and flipped all the breakers back on. The system had been successfully rebooted and was up and running. Stewart settled into the driver
’
s seat with a satisfied grin and started familiarizing himself with the controls.

Lingering Problem

In the woods, a sudden concern broke Web from his daze.
“
Hey, uh
—”
He swallowed hard, lubricating his vocal cords just enough to work.
“
You
’
re .
.
. you
’
re drifting.
”

The ship slowly floated sideways toward the ridge. At the control panel, Stewart was busy with the buttons.
“
I
’
m working on it here, Web.
”

“
You know you
’
re visible, right?
”
Web called over the radio.

“
What do you mean?
”
Stewart replied, still focused on stopping the drift.

“
Your stealth isn
’
t working.
”

This finally caught Stewart
’
s attention. He looked up from the lights and gauges of the console and stared off with a mild concern.
“
How much not working?
”

“
At all,
”
Web replied.

Stewart took a breath and gathered himself.
“
Oh
—
kay. That
’
s not a problem.
”
The more he studied the unfamiliar buttons, the more they seemed to multiply. Normally, he would be able to find the proper dial or switch in a few painless seconds, because there was a general similarity among control panels. It wasn
’
t unlike getting in a different car and trying to find the wipers or headlights. Sometimes they
’
re on the right; sometimes they
’
re on the left. This control panel, however, broke all the rules. He found no similarity to anything he had seen before.
“
I just need to find the right button,
”
he said.

“
Do you need a schematic?
”
Web called over the radio.

“
No, that
’
s not going to help. I
’
ve never seen anything like this, before.
”

Every confiscated ship had its control panel entered into a database, which Web could access from his computer. But since this was a brand new model, they were on their own here.

Web looked from his laptop to the ship hanging in the sky.
“
Well, can you figure it out?
”

Stewart didn
’
t answer. He was too busy staring at the console and chewing the side of his lip. The entire panel was white, with a chalky-white finish on the buttons and dials. This was definitely a high-end ship
—
the best he
’
d ever seen. There was just that one problem: none of the controls had any markings. He could probably figure things out with some trial and error, but that kind of experimentation was generally not a good idea in a spacecraft that weighed over a million pounds and had the thrust to cross the galaxy.

On the ridge, New Guy turned from this distraction, finding the man still walking up the hill. The man was far from the crowd now, heading out on his own, on some sort of mission. New Guy was still trying to recall the name that went with this familiar face. Suddenly it popped into his head. It was
Bruner
.
“
Sir,
”
New Guy called over the radio, in a trained military way. Stewart was still not used to the stringent formality with which the military agents always spoke.

“
Yes, ma
’
am,
”
Stewart fired back, his mind just doing word association and throwing out the first response that popped up when the word
sir
was so forcefully shoved into his ear.

New Guy didn
’
t get the joke, but he knew it was a prompt for him to speak.
“
Bruner is here.
”

This caught Stewart
’
s attention. That name always caught his attention. It was the one name that automatically stopped him in his tracks. He tried to downplay it.
“
Perfect .
.
. where is he?
”

“
He
’
s walking up the hill, about fifty yards from the top,
”
New Guy replied.

“
Okay.
”
Stewart regrouped.
“
Everybody just stay out of sight.
”

“
What about you?
”
Web asked, gazing up at the massive ship that blocked the skyline.

“
I
’
m going to figure this out.
”
Stewart looked down at the console with a new resolve. Pressure always brought out the best in him.
The window screens
, he thought.
“
Let
’
s get some light in here.
”
The large screens crawled upward. The dark compartment was transformed as the daylight poured in. The outside world was visible now, and Stewart could clearly see the problem: he was pushing straight toward the ridge. If he crossed it, the entire park would see him. More important, Bruner would see him.

Bruner wasn
’
t a bad guy; he was actually one of the good guys. He was in his late fifties and a little pudgy, with thick black hair just below a completely bald scalp. He wore thick glasses and a business shirt with an open collar. He had dedicated his life to proving the existence of alien life-forms on Earth, and as evidenced by his proximity to the current situation, he was good at his job, though he had never quite nailed down the proof he needed. The only problem with Bruner
’
s job was that it came into direct conflict with Stewart
’
s job, a big part of which was to conceal all evidence of the existence of aliens.

“
He
’
s still on his way,
”
New Guy warned.
“
Do you want me to take him out?
”
His voice was suddenly more official. Through the scope, he watched Bruner trekking up the hill, his stride slowing from the increasing incline.

“
Give me a second,
”
Stewart called back.

“
You don
’
t have a second, sir.
”

“
Just give me a second,
”
Stewart insisted.

“
It
’
s already been a second, sir.
”

Bingo! Stewart slapped a button and two joysticks rose from the console, just as you would find in an airplane or helicopter. Stewart smiled at the familiar sight. He applied a gentle pressure, and the ship began to ease backward. Mindy watched as the shadow slipped down the hill and crossed back over her, more purposefully this time. Her eyes were wide with amazement. It was sheer admiration for Stewart
’
s adroitness.

Web
’
s face sank as he noticed an obstacle in the ship
’
s path
—
a very large, very proud oak tree standing in the middle of the open field.
“
Watch the tree,
”
he said to no one but himself, as he leaned to one side, as if to steer the ship.

The ship continued on course, oblivious to the natural landmark in its path. Web spoke up this time and directed his voice into the radio mic,
“
Watch the tree.
”

A symphony of rustling leaves, snapping branches, and stretching limbs resonated through the field as the mighty ship invaded the tree
’
s space with Web watching helplessly. Finally, the roots gave way and were ripped from the soil, allowing the tree to topple backward and crash to the ground.

Mindy had a perfect view of the fallen tree, with its enormous base of dirt-packed roots and leaves fluttering through the air like confetti. To her, the vibrating leaves sounded like roaring applause, and that
’
s how she would describe it in her report. She assumed this was an accident, but Mindy was too new to be sure. Web, on the other hand, knew it was an accident, but not one that would have any ill effects.

“
What tree?
”
Stewart asked.

Web shook his head.
“
Never mind .
.
. you cleared it.
”
He shifted back to the other problem: Bruner
’
s mostly bald head, which was about to come popping over that ridge any second now.
“
We need some stealth,
”
Web urged.

Stewart stared down at the controls, irritated.
“
Why would all the buttons be blank,
”
he growled into the mic.

An idea leapt into Mindy
’
s mind and sprang out her mouth without even giving her a chance to review it.
“
For better visibility.
”

Stewart paused for a fraction of a second to process this. Suddenly, it clicked. He knew exactly what she meant. He slapped an overhead button, switching it from night mode into day mode. Like magic, the console illuminated with familiar symbols. His hand pounced on the button to activate the stealth.

At first, only small sections of the ship began to fade from view, like jigsaw pieces. But as the stealth generators continued to warm up, there was a rapid chain reaction. Mindy watched as the last few pieces twinkled off the skyline, giving way to a clear view of the clouds. The shadow on the ground faded. As far as the eye could tell, the ship was gone. Stewart relaxed into the pilot
’
s chair. Then suddenly he remembered.
“
Don
’
t shoot!
”
he called into the mic.