Saucer: Savage Planet (28 page)

“What was Solo doing here on this planet anyway?”

“Food,” Rip said flatly. “Finding ways to genetically engineer new food sources is the only real payoff for the tremendous costs involved in space exploration. They certainly weren’t going to take tons of ore or rare metals into orbit and transport them to another star system. That would be impractical.

“No, Solo was undoubtedly here to collect DNA samples from every living plant and animal he could find. Learning how living creatures that had evolved elsewhere solved the basic functions of life was the goal. Heck, scientists on earth are genetically engineering crops, which are the key to mankind’s future. But Solo was also a librarian. These guys use the living creatures of earth as a giant DNA library.”

The president was horrified. “You mean they put their DNA in us?”

A thoughtful look crossed Rip’s face. “I doubt if it’s their genome. Our researchers are already storing digital data on DNA, then reading the code with lasers and reconverting it to digital computer code. Think about it: If you have a tremendous amount of critical scientific data acquired at great cost or historical data that you don’t want to lose, where would you store it?”

The president look skeptical.

“A star can explode,” Rip continued, “a planet can be destroyed by an asteroid impact, nuclear war could break out … so you convert the records you want to preserve into DNA and insert it into living species on a variety of planets in different solar systems. The creatures that carry it will be unaffected, and they will pass the coded DNA on to their descendants. The data would deteriorate at a very slow, known rate, which is basically the speed that DNA evolves under radiation.

“One of Solo’s tasks was to check on the species carrying code and perhaps insert new code or read old code.”

The president remained silent for almost a minute. Then he said, “Why was Solo stranded?”

“One of his shipmates went nuts and stole their saucer. It had been a hard, difficult voyage. Think of the ancient Polynesians sailing across the Pacific looking for islands. We’ll never know how many set out and died at sea.” Rip shrugged. “I think the other castaways with Solo died or were killed soon afterward. Solo was alone, marooned like Robinson Crusoe, on this planet. This ‘savage planet,’ he called it.’

“Is Earth still their DNA sample lab and library?”

“Of course. As for storing data, perhaps they didn’t store it in the people of earth. Or perhaps not only in people. Other mammals and birds and reptiles could be carriers. One suspects the DNA is in a large number of species to ensure valuable records and data will survive if individual species become extinct. That is the most cost-effective approach, of course, the one with the highest probability of success.”

That was a lot for the president to digest. He glanced at Charley Pine, whose face showed no emotion, then scrutinized Rip’s innocent visage.

After a moment he said, “I’m going to ask the aliens to take both these saucers with them.”

Rip’s and Charley’s eyes met. “We sorta figured that,” Rip said. “They’ve caused a lot of trouble, and yet mankind is better off because we had them for a little while.”

The president didn’t want to argue. In his opinion the verdict wasn’t in on the saucers. Yes, the technology was revitalizing industry, stimulating research, innovation and investment that was leading to millions of new jobs and a new prosperity here and around the globe, but this Fountain of Youth medical stuff had him worried. For the past ten days he’d felt as if he were sitting on a volcano of public and political pressure that threatened to destroy all that had been gained. Now there was the secret DNA library. If the public got wind of that there would be hell to pay.

A loud round of applause sounded outside. The president’s television depicted the Roswell saucer slowly descending with its landing gear out.

“Come on,” Charley said to Amanda. “Let’s give your friends a saucer tour.”

When they were alone, the president said to Rip, “You’re a pretty bright young man.”

“I get by,” Rip acknowledged without a trace of modesty.

That didn’t bother the president, who also had a high opinion of his own abilities. He asked, “What are you going to do with your life, after this?”

Rip sighed. “Darn if I know.”

*   *   *

When the Roswell saucer was on the ground, Uncle Egg said to Petty Officer Hennessey, “Want to climb inside with me? I want to check out the condition of the ship.”

“Sure,” Hennessey said brightly.
Man, this navy gig is looking up. A flying saucer, no less.

They climbed inside, and Egg sat in the pilot’s seat and donned the headband. Soon he had the computer probing the health of every system. Yes, as Solo said, the communications equipment was kaput, as was one of the computers. The other two seemed to be functioning normally, however, and the engineering checks seemed fine.

Satisfied, he took off the headband, verbally sketched out the workings of the saucer for the sailor and answered a few questions.

Egg secured the reactor and closed the hatch when they both were once again on the ground.

As he stood up, he heard a voice call, “Arthur Cantrell! Arthur Cantrell!”

He spotted her in the front row of the scientists’ area. Professor Deborah Deehring, the archaeologist. She was smiling and waving. Uncle Egg felt his pulse soar.

He veered and strode toward her. Some Secret Service type with a badge and earpiece, talking into his lapel, gestured to Egg to stay back, but Hennessey took a hand. He had the badge of a presidential aide, so he was a big shot. He raised the rope for Deborah.

She gave Egg a hug, in front of the whole crowd and the television cameras, a hug seen round the globe.

“I was worried about you, Arthur,” she said.

“I was in good hands. Rip and Charley’s.”

They chatted as they strolled toward the Sahara saucer, where Charley Pine stood with a delegation of children around her as she touched the fuselage, pointed at the rocket engines and landing gear, and gave a grade-school explanation of saucer flight.

They stood back until she finished. Charley gave Deborah a little wave, then went under the saucer and opened the hatch, and the kids swarmed in. Egg and Deborah followed them.

Inside, Egg and Professor Deehring stood back while the kids romped and listened to Charley’s explanations. After about five minutes, Charley shooed the kids out and followed them, leaving the two adults alone. Egg seated Deborah in the pilot’s seat, put a headband on her and turned on the power.

She sat mesmerized as she once again explored the memories of the computers and the displays on the panel tracked her progress. Finally, almost reluctantly, she took off the headband.

“Oh, Arthur.”

Egg laughed. “Life holds its surprises.”

“No wonder you were so enthralled. There is so much information, it would take ten lifetimes to even sort through it, much less analyze it. Are you going to—?”

“No,” he said firmly. “Charley and Rip thought our flight here this morning was our last saucer flight, and I think they are right. The saucer gives too much. Just too much. Mankind isn’t ready yet.”

Egg glanced at his watch. “The shuttle from the starship should be here within minutes. Let’s get out and watch it land. See how the president handles it.”

“And the First Granddaughter,” Deborah added. “Amanda.”

“She’ll do fine,” Egg replied. “It’s the grandfather I’m worried about. All this talk about Fountain of Youth pills, eternal life by prescription … It would be madness, but the public and politicians are screaming for it.”

“That information is in these computers, isn’t it?”

“Yes. If the aliens don’t want these ships back, Rip, Charley and I agreed to launch them into the sun.”

19

The shuttle from the starship came out of the south, so it was first visible as a black speck in the sky to the audience gathered on the White House lawn and the hundreds of thousands of people standing in the streets. Amazingly, a giant hush fell upon the crowd.

The shuttle wasn’t using rocket engines. Rip noted that fact and whispered the observation to Charley Pine, who just nodded. They were standing with Uncle Egg, the president and Amanda, out front beside the two saucers. Everyone else was behind crowd control ropes strategically placed in a giant horseshoe. Television cameras were on mobile platforms behind the people, and several cameramen and sound technicians wearing badges were roaming near the presidential party ready to record the aliens’ and the president’s first remarks.

All over the globe people were gathered around their television sets. Outside of Washington, in every city, town, hamlet and village all over the world, streets and public places were deserted as people gathered to watch the Big Arrival. Network executives were orgasmic: Ad revenues, based as always on the size of the audience, were going to go through the roof. Never before in the history of the medium had this many humans watched the same event.

The shuttle was not a saucer. It was arrow-shaped, with stubby winglets and two short, wide, vertical stabilizers. The entire ship was a lifting body. As it crossed Constitution Avenue, stubby struts appeared on the wingtips and one from the belly, near the nose.

The shuttle slowed, drifted downward and landed facing the president. It was black, a glistening black; no doubt the entire skin was a solar panel to recharge the batteries, Rip decided, just like the saucers, and hard and tough enough to be unaffected by the near-absolute-zero of space or heat of entry into atmospheres.

Not a whisper could be heard. Seconds passed; then a hatch opened in the side of the ship, opened inward. A tiny stair came out. Then a person. It was obviously a woman, middle-aged, of medium stature, with short-cropped hair and brown skin, as if she were well tanned. She stepped out and looked around at the crowd, at the sky, at the buildings and trees and grass, taking it all in. She stood watching as other people emerged from the shuttle one by one and lined up behind her. Soon a dozen people were standing there. They wore khaki one-piece jumpsuits and some kind of footwear. No hats.

Amanda broke the spell. She had been holding the presidential hand, but now she bolted. She ran toward the starship crew fearlessly, her face alight, her hair flying, her legs and arms flashing in the early winter sun.

To the amazement of the onlookers, the woman who was the first person out of the saucer plopped down into a cross-legged sitting position on the grass and stared at the approaching child. She ran her fingers through the grass as Amanda ran up to her.

Amanda’s courage failed her then. She stopped several feet away and gazed hard at the woman. Their eyes were almost on a level. “I’m Amanda.”

I am the captain.

Several of the other space travelers also sat. Standing or sitting, they fixed their unwavering attention on the girl.

Then Amanda took a few quick steps and hugged the woman, who hugged her back. As the woman ran her fingers through the child’s hair and scrutinized her features, the crowd exploded in applause and cheering.

The applause and shouting didn’t stop. Now some of the shuttle crew began looking around, trying to take it all in. People were waving madly; tentatively, one crewman raised his hand and waved back. That stimulated the crowd, which got even noisier. Some of the others waved as well.

Finally the president walked over. He held out his hand to the seated woman.

“Welcome to earth,” he said.

Thank you.
The woman got to her feet, glanced at the outstretched hand and took it. The president sensed that shaking hands was not a custom, so he pumped her hand once and released it.

“Did you bring any kids along?” Amanda demanded.

No. Unfortunately.
She addressed the president.
I am the captain.

The president introduced himself and his granddaughter.

The other spacemen and -women, for there were three more females, gently gathered around Amanda. They looked at her straw-colored hair, felt it, touched her … and two of them kissed her on the cheek.

Amanda set out to hug each and every one of them. It took a while. The applause continued unabated. Finally the president pointed at the White House and the group began to move. Amanda was the center of the group, so he took her hand and she followed. Maybe she was getting a bit nervous at all the attention. One of the space people lingered to close the hatch, then caught up with them.

“Is this your shuttle crew, Captain?”

This is my starship crew. All of them.

“Oh.”

They walked between the saluting soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines of the honor guard toward the open doors of the White House. All the space people were waving now. The crowd roared its approval as Petty Officer Hennessey, Rip, Charley, Uncle Egg and Professor Deehring followed the starship crew.

“Are you a mother?” Amanda asked the captain.

No.

“But you like kids?”

Yes.

“Would you like to meet my friends?”

Of course.

Before the president could stop her, Amanda scampered between two of the honor guard and ran for the area where her classmates waited. They saw her coming and slipped under the rope. They evaded the Secret Service agents like fleeing cats and ran toward Amanda, who reversed her course. In seconds the children were packed tightly around the captain, who tried to touch and hug them all.

Before the president, his party and the children disappeared into the Executive Mansion, a marine captain led a company out from behind a barricade and marched toward the saucers and starship shuttle. The marines were in combat dress with helmets and carried loaded assault rifles. When given the duty of guarding the ships, the captain on his own responsibility had ordered his marines to load their weapons. Now they circled the ships facing outward. The sergeants moved a few of them one way or another and, satisfied, went over to confer with the captain, who returned their salutes. After a short conference, the captain wandered off to talk to the Secret Service agent in charge.