Space Aliens Taught My Dog to Knit!

by Jerry Oltion & Elton Elliott

Delmer Dawkins leaned across the circular bar table, pinning his copy of the National Revealer beneath one jacketed elbow while he gestured wide with his other hand only inches in front of his companion’s saturnine face. “It’s bigger than we thought,” he said in a whisper that echoed off the glass wall beside them. Beyond, the city of Seattle glistened in the late evening sunlight. “It’s not just NASA. We’re pretty sure SETI, the Air Force, and the Catholic Church are in on it, too.”

“Is that so?” Leo Stevenson leaned back a few inches, but Delmer followed him, his tie nearly dipping into the glass of mineral water he’d forgotten in his excitement.

“Yes, it’s so. But they’re not as big as us. We’ve got our own people in high places. Very high places.”

Leo smiled. “Where, the Moon?”

Delmer narrowed his eyes. Was Leo making fun of him? Or was he just putting on a front for the rest of the bar patrons? That was the trouble with conspiracies; even your friends could be in on them, and you never knew for sure. But Leo was above suspicion. Not because he was too honest to have secrets, but because he was too greedy. Leo was a Hollywood producer; if he knew anything about a clandestine space program, he would have made a movie about it years ago.

“Don’t laugh,” Delmer said. “That’s where we think their secret base is. On the far side, of course, where astronomers can’t see them.” He shook his head sadly. “The legitimate astronomers, that is. Not all of them are on our side. The conspiracy has spread to academia, too.” Delmer scanned the bar nervously. There were a dozen or so occupied tables; most of them held couples deep in conversation, but at one a lone woman nursed a drink and glanced at her watch, and at another sat a man reading a newspaper. Wearing sunglasses.

Delmer glanced quickly back to Leo. In a real whisper this time, he said, “We’re being watched.”

“Really?”

Delmer admired the cool way Leo rattled the last few ice cubes in his empty rum-and-Coke glass, then sucked one into his mouth, never once looking up. He acted as if it didn’t matter to him in the slightest whether federal agents shadowed him in hotel bars. As if the whole situation were inconsequential, a lark.

“There’s just one thing that bothers me about all this,” Leo said, not even bothering to lower his voice. “How could the government start a secret space program and put a base on the Moon and all that, and manage to keep it secret for twenty years? Come on now, you’re talking about the same people that screwed up Watergate and couldn’t keep Clinton’s sex life or the Bin Laden connection under wraps.”

“Clever diversions, all of them,” Delmer said softly, wishing Leo would quiet down as well. The guy with the newspaper wasn’t even pretending to read anymore.

“Diversions?” Leo asked.

“That’s right. Some of our agents were getting too close to the truth, so they started a scandal to mask the internal shakedown. It’s one of the oldest tactics in the book.”

“Is it?” Leo crunched on his ice cube, swallowed.

“Don’t scoff at the government. They kept the F-117 Stealth Fighter secret for years.”

“Hmm.” Leo shrugged. “So what are you going to do about this Black Space Program of yours, now that you know it exists? Sell people UFO insurance?”

Delmer ignored Leo’s dig. Ever since Leo had scored big in the movie industry, he loved jazzing his former college buddies about their mundane professions. Well, Delmer would impress him before the evening was over, he knew it. “We’re going to blow it wide open, that’s what,” he said. “We’ll start with—” He suddenly became aware of a person standing just behind his left elbow. He turned in his chair, expecting to see the muzzle of a gun pointed at him from beneath a folded newspaper, but instead he saw the single woman from the other table. She was tall, rail thin, with dark blond hair that fell in bangs just short of aquamarine eyes. She wore no makeup, and her clothes, from the blue and green flannel shirt to the tight Levis to the canvas hiking-boots, looked like a tourist’s attempt to mimic the local grunge scene. Definitely not an executive look.

“Excuse me,” she said, smiling shyly. Her voice had a slight drawl. Delmer guessed Texas or maybe New Mexico. “I was supposed to meet someone here at seven, but I just realized my watch isn’t working. Do either of you have the time?”

Both Delmer and Leo immediately looked to their wristwatches and said, “Seven thirty.”

“Seven thirty-one,” Delmer amended when he saw the digit change.

“Oh. Yes, I’m sure I missed him, then. Sorry to have bothered you.”

“Not at all,” Leo said magnanimously.

The woman took a step past them as if to leave the bar, but her hip bumped the table. Delmer’s mineral water sloshed, and he reached to steady it, but she was quicker. “Sorry,” she said, setting the glass back down in front of him. She flashed a quick smile, then turned away again.

They watched her weave her way through the tables to the door, Leo apparently with simple lust, Delmer with suspicion. What had she been up to? Was her sudden appearance some kind of warning?

When she disappeared into the lobby, Leo turned around and picked up his glass. Three or four ice cubes were all that was left in it, and they clung stubbornly to the bottom when he tilted it up to his lips.

“Here, let me borrow some of that,” he said, picking up Delmer’s water glass and pouring a half inch off the top of it into his own glass to float the ice cubes.

“Wait!” Delmer said, grabbing his arm. He’d figured it out. “Don’t drink that. She poisoned it.”

Leo rolled his eyes. Prying Delmer’s hand loose, he said, “Del, don’t you think you’re taking this conspiracy business a little too seriously? She didn’t poison your drink.”

Embarrassed by Leo’s patronizing tone, Delmer asked, “Then what was she doing here?”

“Asking the time,” Leo said. He took a big gulp of water, slurping in one of the ice cubes. He smiled wide at Delmer while he swallowed, as if to say, “See?” but his smile suddenly changed to a grimace of horror. He spit the ice cube back into his glass and said, “Then again…” but he never finished. His eyes rolled upward and he tilted forward until his forehead rested on the National Revealer.

“Holy shit!” Delmer whispered. He looked up at the other bar patrons, but the couples at their tables hadn’t noticed anything, and if the man with the newspaper had, he wasn’t making a move. Delmer felt completely alone. His confident “we” a few minutes before had been bravado, nothing more; the truth of the matter was he had never met another person who believed in a clandestine space program, or in Bigfoot or the face on Mars either, for that matter. He’d only read their articles in the newspapers.

He looked back down at the top of his friend’s head. My God! he thought. Leo is dead. Whatever the woman had slipped into the water had killed him instantly. And Delmer would no doubt be on the top of the suspect list. He’d frequented this bar often enough over the last few years, somebody was bound to recognize him…

Still, he couldn’t waste time worrying about himself. Leo was dead! Poisoned by the drink that should have been his.

Here was his proof that the Black Space Program existed, but how could he use it to convince anyone? Delmer tried to think: What should he do now? There was no way he could save Leo, but if he acted fast he could at least track down the woman who had killed him. And maybe, if he played it right, she would give him the proof he needed to blow the whole story wide open.

Yes, that was it. If Leo’s death was to mean anything at all, then Delmer had to use it to put pressure on the government. Get them to come clean with the nation. He stood up from the table and strode out of the bar in search of the woman.

She was just getting into a taxi when Delmer reached the parking lot. He raced for his own car and squealed out of the lot only a block behind it, following as inconspicuously as possible. When the taxi merged onto I-5 going north, he closed up the lead a little, following a couple of cars behind as it switched to 520 and crossed the floating bridge into Bellevue.

It seemed as if half the buildings lining the freeway belonged to computer manufacturers or software companies. “Of course!” Delmer muttered to himself. “The computer industry has to be in on it as well. Jeez, why didn’t I think of that before?”

The taxi pulled off the freeway and swung around the block into a Red Lion Hotel parking lot. The woman got out and entered the lobby, but as soon as the cab had gone she came right back out, walked through the lot to a parked car—a black Mercedes—and drove away.

Delmer followed her to another hotel where she switched cars again—this time to a black BMW—then she led him through winding streets to a sprawling mansion built into a hillside. An electric gate blocked the driveway; Delmer drove on past, pausing only long enough to write down the address. Then he headed for a phone booth.

The yellow pages held over a hundred listings for private investigators. Delmer groaned as he saw page after page of ads promising discretion, confidentiality, and affordable rates. How could he know which ones were legit and which ones were already part of the conspiracy? A wrong guess would be disastrous.

Then he couldn’t afford to guess. He would have to consult a higher power. With a newfound sense of determination, he scanned the pages of the directory, glancing at the names just long enough for them to register in his subconscious mind, then he went back to his car and took his Ouija board out of the trunk, sat down in the passenger seat with the board on his lap, and placed the fingers of both hands on the planchette. It would work better with two people, but Delmer didn’t have time to track down a compatriot to help him. The oracle would have to work through him alone.

He let his wrists and forearms go slack, then focused on the alphabet spread across the board and tried to let his mind do the same. After a moment, the planchette began to move.

“You know, Elvis served me a burger once, back in ‘83. I’m sure of it.” Sid Jaimeson, the investigator, paused to light a cigarette, puffing the smoke toward the windshield, where it curled around and drifted straight toward Delmer.

Delmer cranked his window down a couple of inches. “Elvis, huh?” he said distractedly. They’d been watching the house behind the iron gate for a couple of hours now.

“Yup. In a little Mom & Pop diner in Kalamazoo, Michigan. He’d shaved off his sideburns and his hair was a lot shorter, but you can’t fool a trained eye. It was Elvis all right.”

“Wow,” said Delmer. “What’d you do?”

Sid blew more smoke at the windshield. “Nothing. It wasn’t any of my business.” He was silent for a minute or more, then he said, “Well, okay, I tipped him twenty percent, just to let him know I knew. But I didn’t tell anybody, if that’s what you mean.”

Delmer grinned. “You just told me.”

Sid grinned right back. “I told you the wrong town, too.”

“Oh.” Delmer was momentarily crestfallen, but then he realized Sid was just being professional. “You know,” he said, “I’m glad—”

“Look sharp,” Sid interrupted. “Here she comes.” He stabbed out his cigarette in the ashtray, and the two men hunched down in their seats as the iron gate swung open and the black BMW slid silently out into the night. It was halfway down the block before its driver turned on the lights.

Sid started up his car and pulled out after her, keeping a full block behind until she got into heavier traffic, then closing up the distance and following her onto the freeway. She drove south all the way to Renton before getting off on 169 and heading toward Mount Rainier.

“What could she be doing way out here?” Delmer asked as they drove past Enumclaw and turned east on 410.

“Could be anything,” Sid said. “Making a drop, meeting a contact, disposing of a body—you name it.”

Delmer shuddered. He wondered what had happened to Leo’s body. How long had he sat there face down in the bar before someone noticed him? Had anyone described Delmer to the police? Were they even now ransacking his apartment for clues? That much was certain; if not the police then the Black Space Program people. And both organizations would no doubt post guards to catch him when he returned. Which meant he couldn’t even go home. He could call in from a pay phone for his messages, but that would be it.

The road had begun climbing into the Cascade foothills. Now that they were the only two cars on it, Sid had dropped way back, so they just glimpsed the BMW’s taillights as it disappeared around the tree-lined curves ahead of them. Then they came to a twistier section and didn’t see the car at all for a few minutes, but the road straightened out again and there it was, stopped at a pullout.

It was too late to stop without being obvious. “Duck down,” Sid said as he drove on past. He took them around the next corner, then killed the lights and turned the car around on the narrow road. With the engine off, and using just the emergency brake so the lights wouldn’t come on, he coasted them back down until they were just peeking around the corner. The BMW was an inky patch of darkness under the starlight, growing more visible as their eyes adapted to the dark.

“She’s got to be meeting someone,” Sid whispered, as if his voice could carry the quarter mile to the other car and give them away. “She hasn’t even gotten out of the car.”

“What if they come down from above?” Delmer asked. He meant from up the road, but Sid leaned forward and looked up through the smoky windshield.

“Holy shit!” he whispered.

Delmer leaned forward to see what he was so excited about. Sure enough, there was a glowing ring of red and green lights descending toward them from high in the northwestern sky.

Sid reached back into the rear seat and grabbed his camera. Rolling down his window, he leaned out and started snapping pictures as the UFO dropped silently to a stop beside the BMW.

It dwarfed the car. Delmer guessed it was thirty or forty feet tall and twice as wide. It was circular, the classic flying saucer design with a bulge on the top. Through the transparent bubble, Delmer could see silhouettes of two humanoid pilots sitting at a control console.

The BMW driver’s door opened, and the woman from the bar stepped out. She was bathed in pulsing light from the UFO. Sid kept clicking away with the camera as a ramp descended from the underside of the saucer and the woman walked up it and disappeared inside.

“We got ‘em,” Delmer whispered triumphantly.

The ramp slid back into the saucer, the lights brightened, and the UFO rose up into the air again. Delmer expected it to shoot straight up, but instead it slid silently up the road—straight at their car.

“Uh oh,” Sid said. He handed Delmer the camera. “Hold that and put on your seatbelt. Things could get bumpy here.” He waited until he was sure that the UFO pilots had indeed seen them—which was unmistakable when a beam of bright white light shot out from the edge of the saucer and lit up the interior of the car like the inside of a flashbulb—then he turned the key in the ignition.

The engine rumbled to life, then immediately died. When Sid tried the key again, nothing happened. Not even the starter motor turned over.

“They’re using a dampening field!” Delmer squeaked. “They can stop engines and stuff from working.”

Sid nodded. “Well, then, let’s just see if they can repeal the law of gravity.” He released the emergency brake and the car began to roll down the highway toward the parked BMW.

“I think they can.” Delmer clutched the edge of the seat in panic, as if that might help hold them to the ground.

When they came under the UFO, all the loose pop cans and napkins and maps and stuff in the car rose up to bang against the roof, and both Sid’s and Delmer’s hair rose straight up as well, but their seatbelts held them in place. The camera shot up out of Delmer’s hands, but he snagged the strap and reeled it back down to his lap. The car rocked as if in a strong wind. Sid cursed as he fought for control, but the car didn’t leave the ground.

Then they passed out from under the disc and all the debris rained back down on them. “All right!” Sid shouted. “We’re too heavy for ‘em.” He straightened out the car so it was pointed down the center line of the highway, and they began to pick up speed.

The UFO floated along behind them, pinning them in its intense light and sweeping its anti-gravity beam across them time after time, but Sid kept the car on the highway and by the time they reached the first curve they were doing nearly forty miles an hour.

The road swept around to the left, and in the middle of the curve the car suddenly got light again. Delmer expected it to skid off into the trees, but instead it did the opposite, oversteering hard to the left. Sid corrected for it, batted a pop can aside, and said, “They’re playing with our inertia. Well let’s just see if we can play back.” He hit the brakes hard, and the car stopped instantly, without even squealing the tires or throwing Sid or Delmer against their seatbelts. The UFO swept on ahead, and Sid reached into his jacket, pulling out a snub-nosed revolver. He waited until the floating pop cans fell to the floor again, then leaned out the window and fired three rounds at the UFO. The report echoed off the trees beside the road.

It was like hitting a baseball. One moment the UFO was there; the next it was careening through the sky toward the northern horizon.

“Hah, thought so,” said Sid.

“What?” asked Delmer.

The engine suddenly coughed and rumbled to life, without Sid touching the key.

“Aha, their damping field must have a range limit. Hang on.” Sid stepped on the gas and the car sped down the hill.

“What made them zoom away like that?” Delmer asked, gripping the dashboard as Sid swerved the car around another corner. “They wouldn’t be afraid of a gun, would they?”

“I doubt it,” Sid said, “but if they can play with gravity and lower inertia, then I figured that’s what they use to keep themselves afloat. And by the way they supposedly zip around the sky and make sudden stops and all, I figured they probably don’t weigh more than a couple of grams. So I sent a couple more grams of high-velocity lead toward ‘em. Just like playing pool; the momentum has to go somewhere.”

Delmer wondered if that was such a hot assumption, but apparently it had worked. Not for long, though; the UFO stopped just as quickly as it had gone, and like a ball at the end of an elastic cord, it shot back toward them.

“Time to call in the cavalry,” Sid said. He pulled his cell phone from his hip and flipped it open, dialing with his thumb while he drove.

The road bottomed out and began to rise again. Sid punched the gas and the car shot up the other side, then the engine coughed and died again. He shoved in the clutch, and they coasted on up and over the crest of the rise.

Delmer was afraid that the dampening field might kill cell phone signals, too, but a moment later Sid said, “Marty? Sid. No, no time; listen, I’ve been following somebody, and I think I stumbled onto a major drug deal. I want you to send the chopper and as many cars as you can spare. Damn right they’ve spotted us; they’re chasing us down the side of Mount Rainier right now. On 410, right. Tell ‘em to get here quick; the dealers are faster than we are, and I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to hold ‘em off. Right. Thanks.”

Sid thumbed off, tossed the phone to Delmer, and laughed at Delmer’s surprised expression.

“But—why didn’t you tell them the truth?”

“What? Marty’s a nice guy who just happens to work dispatch at the Puyallup field office, but if I call him up and say ‘UFO,’ he can’t do a thing to help me. Say drugs and he can send half the damned force.”

The phone buzzed in Delmer’s hand. He nearly dropped it in surprise, but managed to flip it open instead, bracing himself against the door as the car swerved around a hairpin turn, and say, “Uh… Sid’s car.”

“Who the hell is this?” a deep voice asked.

“Delmer… uh, a friend of—” Delmer said, but Sid grabbed the phone from him before he could say more.

“Sid here,” he said. Delmer gasped as the UFO swept its spotlight and anti-gravity beam across them again and the car lurched toward the inside of the turn. Sid cursed and jerked the wheel straight again, then said into the phone, “Nope. Hold on.” He dropped the phone in his lap, pulled his revolver out of its shoulder holster, transferred it to his left hand, and leaned out the window to fire three more shots into the air.

The UFO streaked away again, its spotlight dimming with distance until it winked out among the stars. Sid holstered his revolver and picked up the phone again. “Sorry, I had to persuade ‘em to back off. Hell, yes, that was gunfire. Get your asses up here or you’ll be readin’ my obit in the morning.” He thumbed off the phone and tossed it back to Delmer.

“What did he want?” Delmer asked as the car’s engine started up again and Sid accelerated hard down the road.

Sid laughed. “He wanted to know if I’d seen any funny lights in the sky. Said they’re getting all sorts of calls about it from out this way.”

“Good,” Delmer said. “Maybe they’ll believe us now.”

“They’ll believe us when I show ‘em the photos,” Sid said. “Not before.” He leaned his head out the window and looked up. “You know, I believe our flying friends must have been listening in on our call, ‘cause it doesn’t look like they’re coming back.”

He slowed the car and continued driving down the mountain at a more normal pace. After a few minutes they saw a highway patrol car speeding toward them with its lights flashing, and Sid blinked his headlights to flag them down.

Delmer let Sid do the talking, and he was impressed with how few details Sid had to change in order to make the story sound completely believable. He even said straight out that the car full of drug dealers “took off like a rocket” when he fired on them the second time, and he and Delmer hadn’t seen them since.

The helicopter showed up not long afterward and began sweeping the roadside with a spotlight that seemed like a dim flashlight after the UFO’s bright beam. Sid and Delmer stuck around for a while, putting up a show of helping with the search, but when it became apparent to everyone that the bad guys had slipped through the net, Sid thanked the cops for saving his bacon and the two of them took off for Seattle again.

Sid dropped Delmer off at the parking lot in Bellevue where he’d left his car and they split up for the night, Sid to go download the photos he’d taken and Delmer to hole up somewhere until morning. He didn’t particularly like the idea of spending a night alone in a motel, but going home was out of the question, and as Sid pointed out, staying together made them a bigger target.

So Delmer waited until Sid drove away to the north, then went the other direction, eventually finding a cheap motel near the airport. He bought a copy of the National Revealer from a late-night grocery down the street and fell asleep reading the news.

The next morning Delmer called Sid’s office number, but he just got an answering machine. He called Sid’s cell number, but that went to voicemail, too. Delmer fussed around the motel room for another hour, giving Sid time to get to work, then called again. Answering machine again.

Maybe he just wasn’t answering the phone. Delmer wasn’t doing any good at the motel, and he was going to have to check out soon anyway, so he decided to risk driving over to the office in person.

When he got there, after battling Seattle’s rush-hour traffic into the downtown area, he found that he was too late. The UFO people had already been there. The office had been ransacked; file cabinets lay on their sides and papers were strewn everywhere. Delmer took one look, then spun around and rushed back to the street. The sidewalks were full of people; it was impossible to tell if anyone was watching him or not.

As nonchalantly as he could, he walked with the crowd for the block and a half to his car, then he ducked inside and started it up and pulled out into traffic, cutting off a taxi whose driver honked the horn and cursed at him as he drove to the next light and turned right. The taxi went on, so Delmer went a couple of blocks before turning right again, then he drove half a block and pulled into a parking lot where he slid into a slot between a van and a pickup camper.

He switched off the car and watched in the mirror for signs of pursuit, but it looked like he’d gotten away clean. He wondered how much longer he could elude them, though. They’d taken Sid, and Sid did this sort of thing for a living. Delmer slumped in his seat. Living. God. He couldn’t go home, and he couldn’t go to work, either. In a couple of weeks the UFO people could just start searching the park benches at night and eventually find him.

He had to do something to turn the tables. Take the initiative and put them on the run. But what could he do? Sid had kept the camera, and now the UFO people undoubtedly had it, so he didn’t even have any proof that they existed. All he had was the address of the house where the woman had gone last night.

But they didn’t know that. There could have been two cameras, for all they knew. And half a dozen compatriots.

Smiling for the first time in hours, Delmer opened the glove box and took out a pen and his car logbook, tore out a blank sheet, and began composing his message.

They met by the fountain at the Center, the old World’s Fair site in the middle of town. The Space Needle towered overhead like a flying saucer speared on the Eiffel Tower; a fitting omen, Delmer thought, for the business at hand. He waited in plain sight, trying to project an aura of confidence. Either they believed his threats of setting up blind mail drops to the press or they didn’t; skulking about and trying to spot their agents before they spotted him would only cast doubt on his story.

So he watched a couple of high-school kids tossing a Frisbee back and forth across the open bowl of the fountain until he heard footsteps approaching him from the side. He looked over casually, then felt his legs buckle when he recognized his contact.

“Leo!” The friend he’d watched die from poison in a hotel bar reached out to steady him, and Delmer wrapped his arms around him in a tight hug. “Leo, how did you…” Then he noticed the blond woman dressed in imitation grunge standing behind Leo, trying not to smirk, and realization came all at once. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

“Got it in one,” Leo said, gently disentangling himself.

“Wow,” Delmer whispered as the implications hit him. If Leo was in on the conspiracy, then it had to be even more far-reaching than he’d thought. “You were trying to scare me off,” he said.

“Two for two,” said Leo. He sat down on the stone rim ringing the fountain. “It worked for your detective buddy. He agreed to keep quiet after we ransacked his office. You’re a stubborn S.O.B., though. I’ve got to admit I misjudged you.”

Delmer sat down beside him. No matter what, he had to keep playing the role. So, as gruffly as he could manage with a throat that was still all choked up with relief over finding his friend alive, he said, “Don’t do it again.”

Leo laughed. “We won’t.”

“Good.” Delmer looked over to the woman who’d come with Leo, but she was no longer standing where she’d been. As casually as he could manage, Delmer scanned the crowd, but she had disappeared. Gone home, or gone into hiding to better protect Leo? Delmer decided not to make any sudden moves, just in case.

“No, we’ve decided you’re a big enough pain in the ass, we’d be better off having you on our side.”

Delmer had to put his hands down on the stone to hold himself upright. All his preconceived notions had been smashed to splinters in an instant. The Black Space Program wanted him? Because he was a pain in the ass? He looked into Leo’s eyes to see if he could spot any hint of deception there, but he saw only friendly amusement in his expression. “Really?” he asked. “And Sid wasn’t?”

“Sid’s a detective. They learn real quick not to mess with things that’re bigger than they are. Not unless they’ve got enough leverage to deal with it, which he didn’t as soon as we found his camera.”

“Well, I’ve still got mine,” Delmer said. “Or my buddies do. But before I agree to join anything, maybe you ought to tell me just who I’d be joining.”

Leo nodded. “Fair enough. You had it pretty close, you know. NASA and the Air Force are in on it, and most of the major defense contractors. And the Catholic church; you got that right too. The only one you missed was the movie industry. We’re in it clear up to our panaflexes.”

“But—but you haven’t made any movies about it! How could you keep it quiet!”

Leo laughed. “We haven’t, really. All those nifty special effects you’ve been seeing for the last couple decades—that’s not computer-generated. Most of it’s actual footage. We’ve been making a fortune off this, but we just haven’t put it all together into one big film yet.”

“Wow,” Delmer said. “You mean Star Wars is real? There really is a battle going on out there?”

“Probably somewhere,” Leo said. “It’s a big universe. But no, Lucas just dresses up a few dozen ships to look like fighters and makes adventure movies.”

Delmer shook his head in amazement. “Special effects. Of course. Jeez, how could I have missed that?”

“Hey, don’t be too rough on yourself. You weren’t supposed to figure out any of it.”

That made him feel a little better, until he realized the one organization Leo hadn’t mentioned. “What about SETI?”

Leo shook his head. “They’re still in the dark.”

“Why? I’d have thought the alien contact people would be your top guys.”

“They would,” Leo said with a smile, “except we’ve already made contact years ago.”

Delmer nodded knowingly. “Of course. 1947, Roswell, New Mexico.”

Leo nodded. “Among others. Our base on the far side of the Moon is full of ‘em. Well, what do you say? Will you join us?”

Delmer had to fight to keep from babbling. Of course he’d join them. He’d do it just for the chance to ride into space aboard a genuine UFO—though he supposed they were no longer unidentified, at least from his point of view.

But was Leo’s offer sincere? Delmer wanted to think it was, but after the last day’s experience he realized he could never trust anyone completely again. Nor could he afford to let them think he did. So he nodded slowly and said, “I’ll join you on one condition. If I don’t like what I see, you let me go in exchange for my silence. I’ll keep my photos of your people and your ship, and I’ll keep my blind drop setup so you can’t double-cross me, and we’ll both just go on about our business as if nothing had ever happened.”

Leo didn’t look happy. “We’d rather not have that threat hanging over our heads,” he said. “I mean, what if something happened to you, something we didn’t have any control over? Then your buddies e-mail the photos and we’ve got no end of covering up to do.”

“You’ll just have to make sure nothing happens to me,” Delmer said.

Still frowning, Leo said, “Look, just between friends here, let me warn you: your photos aren’t that big a deal. They could cause problems, but they won’t shut us down. So if you become more trouble than your photos would be, then I’m not going to be able to help cover your ass, you understand?”

Delmer shuddered. What was he getting himself into? He didn’t know, not for sure, but it looked like he was going to find out, for the only answer he could make was the one Leo wanted to hear. “All right,” he said. “We’ve got a deal.”

Delmer used his cell phone to call his home number and left a message on his answering machine, which, he’d explained to Leo, his co-conspirators would also call and use the remote codes to listen for his instructions. Leo was listening over his shoulder, so he said simply, “Hold ‘em for a week. If you don’t hear from me by then, send ‘em.” He was about to hang up when he realized that Leo and his pals would think they could just synthesize his voice and leave other messages for his imaginary conspirators, so he quickly said the first nonsense word he could think of, as if it was a code: “Glastonbury.”

He hung up the phone and turned to Leo. “Okay,” he said. “You’ve got a week. Let’s see your wonderful setup.”

Delmer’s first ride in a UFO was everything he had hoped for. They boarded a flying saucer in a field outside of Redmond, and the pilot—an almond-eyed alien with skinny arms and an oversized head—took them for a joyride down the backbone of the Cascade Mountains before lifting off into space. The alien even let Delmer fly the ship for a while, using the amazingly simple controls to zip around the Earth as if the planet were no bigger than an asteroid.

“Aren’t we setting off practically every radar alarm in the world?” Delmer asked.

Leo grinned. “That’s right. Of course our side knows what’s causing it, and the people who don’t know need a good scare every now and then. Why don’t you make another low pass over the Middle East just for the heck of it?”

They soon tired of buzzing humanity and headed for the base on the back side of the Moon. Once they were free of the atmosphere it took just under an hour to travel the quarter-million miles to get there. As Delmer watched the Moon grow steadily larger, he boggled at the degree of technology involved. They weren’t even wearing seat belts.

The moonbase was an architect’s dream. Low gravity and improbably strong building materials allowed structures to span incredible distances without support. Buildings shaped like palm trees—each frond a separate apartment—filled one crater like an inverted south-seas island, while the crater next to it was a webwork of narrow ribbons weaving among angular, crystalline-looking spikes. Real trees grew among the buildings and even on some of them, and Delmer wondered what they did for air until he noticed a shimmering hemisphere over the entire city, like a soap bubble resting on the surface. They’d domed in an area at least twenty miles across.

Then as they crossed through it and came in for a landing Delmer realized it was wilder than that: the “dome” was just a boundary between air and space. They used nothing so crude as an actual wall to hold in the atmosphere; rather some kind of force field that allowed spaceships to come and go without hindrance. He presumed the field also kept out cosmic rays and other harmful radiation.

They flew straight to Leo’s house, which was a crystal palace the size of the Taj Mahal. Multisided columns hundreds of feet high stuck out at odd angles from a central core like flowers in a vase. They landed on a plush lawn beside one of the towers, next to half a dozen other UFOs, no two of which were alike. One of them was undoubtedly Leo’s own private ship: It was a chrome-silver ellipse, almost liquid-looking, like a raindrop caught in motion. It was smaller than the others, only twenty feet long or so, and maybe fifteen wide. The control bubble at the top was swept back, giving the whole thing an impression of speed even standing still. Like a fighter jet parked next to a passenger plane, it screamed out “fast.”

“Nice car,” Delmer said as they walked past it toward the palace’s entrance. He was trying to keep from falling over in the strange, light gravity, and trying not to freak out at the very idea of being in a city on the back side of the moon.

“Isn’t she slick?” Leo said proudly. “Maybe later we can take her out to Saturn and do some ring racing or something.”

“Sure,” Delmer said, thinking, Must be rough living here.

His impression didn’t change when he saw the inside of Leo’s mansion. It had enough rooms to house a small nation, and the potential to transform into practically any shape Leo wanted. Leo just had to show him the rushes from his latest movie, and they watched it from the fourteenth row of a thirty-row theater in which three-quarters of the seats were occupied by soft, realistic dummies put there so the acoustics would match that of a nearly full theater. Leo took him on a tour of the grounds as well, pointing out all the exotic plants he’d brought from Earth and a few that had come from farther away.

When Delmer grew tired of admiring Leo’s riches, Leo sent him to bed in his very own penthouse apartment atop a leaning spire about fifty stories high. Delmer spent a restless few hours waiting for the thing to either fall over or launch him to Alpha Centauri, but neither happened so he turned down the windows to simulate night—sunset still being a few days away according to Leo—and slept fitfully until Leo woke him up and took him on a tour of the city.

The population seemed to be about half alien. It took Delmer a couple of days to stop flinching whenever he turned a corner and came face-to-face with one of the almond-eyed Vreenish, and even after he’d met a few and discovered that they weren’t interested in doing painful rectal exams on him, he still felt like a cat in a room full of dogs. What were they doing here? he wondered.

And as his stay stretched into the third and fourth days, each one full of wonderful new discoveries, Delmer began to wonder why none of this technology was making it to Earth. He asked Leo about it on the afternoon of his fourth day on the Moon.

The Sun was just setting at the end of the city’s two-week day. Leo and Delmer were watching it from the top of a corkscrew-shaped building nearly a mile high. They were still in full sunlight, but the ground below them was already a dark plain glittering with points of light that were hills and crater rims catching the last rays of the sun.

Leo considered Delmer’s question for a minute or so before answering. “Well, we do share some of it. Mostly movie special effects, and some computer technology. Cell phones. We plan to introduce more of it eventually, but not just yet. The Vreenish haven’t finished studying us yet, and they don’t want to mess things up before they understand how it works. We can’t just dump new technology and a new way of life on people all at once; they aren’t ready for it. Give them all this without preparation and pretty soon Luna will look just like Cleveland rather than the other way around.”

“Hmm,” Delmer said. He’d heard that argument before, as an excuse to keep from helping underdeveloped nations industrialize. He said, “You seem to have adapted pretty well. And the what, half million or so other people here? They’ve handled the culture shock without too much trouble, haven’t they?”

Leo had been leaning out against one of the slanted windows; he turned his head toward Delmer and said, “Well, yeah, but we’re a special case. We were ready to accept this. Most of us were already living in a fantasy world of our own creation when we discovered the Vreenish.”

“There’s millions of people out there who already believe in UFOs with practically no evidence at all,” Delmer pointed out. He was standing back from the window; he couldn’t bring himself to lean out over a mile-high drop with only a pane of glass—even improbably strong glass—between him and the ground.

“It’ll take a lot more than naive credulity to bring humanity up to speed,” Leo said sarcastically.

Naive, is it? Delmer thought. Was it naive to uncover the whole conspiracy simply by piecing together what he read in the papers? Was it naive to penetrate their cover deeply enough to make them take action against him, even recruit him? Hah. Leo didn’t fool him. He and his cronies here on the Moon simply wanted to keep their incredible toys to themselves for as long as possible.

Well, if Delmer had anything to say about it, that wouldn’t be much longer.

He shook Leo’s chaperonage easy enough by simply telling him he wanted to explore on his own for a while. Leo was getting tired of showing him around anyway, so it hardly took any convincing. As soon as he got free, Delmer spent a day doing just what he’d said he would do: exploring. He found a shopping mall where he bought a portable book reader and electronic copies of half a dozen primers for understanding the Vreenish technology, plus as many other gadgets as he could carry. Universal language translators, indestructible clothing, personal force fields—he felt like Buck Rogers by the time he left the mall.

When he got back to his apartment he used his new wrist videophone to call Leo. It was easier than trying to track him down in the sprawling mansion. When Leo’s holographic head appeared above his hand, he said, “I think it’s time I went back and defused my answering machine message, don’t you?”

Leo laughed. “Funny thing about that. You know, nobody has called your number all week?”

Delmer could feel himself turning white. He’d forgotten that one crucial detail in his bluff.

“Don’t worry,” Leo said. “You’re already here, and it would be more trouble to take you back than it would be to let you stay. Just keep your nose clean, or we’ll send you back so fast you’ll think you were teleported.”

“Thanks,” Delmer said sarcastically.

“Hey, you’re a friend,” Leo replied. “I wouldn’t do this for just anybody.”

No, of course not, thought Delmer. He only did it for people who were a big enough threat to warrant his attention. “You’re a true pal,” he said, then he switched off the phone, packed his treasures in a bag, and left the penthouse apartment.

The parking lawn was still full of flying saucers. Delmer headed straight for the liquid chrome one. Leo hadn’t taken him out in it yet, but from watching as they flew around in the others, he was pretty sure he didn’t need a key. He felt a twinge of guilt at stealing what probably amounted to his best friend’s penile extension, but if he knew Leo, he’d just use the opportunity to buy an even bigger one with his insurance settlement.

Acting nonchalant, as if he were just a parking valet, Delmer walked straight up to the saucer, climbed the ramp that slid out when he approached, and sat in the single pilot’s chair. The ramp slid up behind him and the door sealed tight. Delmer examined the control board, a tight horseshoe-shaped console wrapping around the chair. The controls weren’t arranged like the ones in the UFO he’d flown on the way to the Moon, but they were labeled with little international-style pictures of the ship tilting this way and that, and zooming along with speed lines stretched out behind it. Delmer found the one that looked like the lift button, but nothing happened when he pressed it.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t switched on. He looked for something that might be an ignition switch, but there wasn’t anything obvious. No key slot, which was a good sign, but no prominent red button labeled “on,” either.

He tried a few anyway, hoping for luck, but all he got for his effort was a sultry female voice saying, “You forgot your passphrase again, didn’t you?”

He looked over his shoulder, half expecting to see a real woman standing behind him, but he was alone in the ship. “Uh, no,” he said, wondering frantically what sort of password Leo would use. “Money?” he said timidly.

“Sorry, that was last month,” the voice said. “It’s a phrase now.”

“Oh, of course,” said Delmer. “Uhh, let’s do lunch?”

“Nope.”

“How about ‘I’d like to thank my parents, and all the people who—’”

“Sorry. I’m going have to notify security that you’re trying to take the vehicle.”

“No, don’t do that!” Delmer stood up and grabbed his bag. “Just sit tight. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll get right back to you.”

“Passphrase accepted,” the voice said. “Have a nice flight.”

Delmer collapsed back in the chair and stabbed at the lift button. The glittering spaceship leaped off the ground, narrowly missing an overhanging wing of the mansion, and within seconds it had cleared the air bubble and was hurtling into deep space.

Delmer swung around the Moon until he was aimed at the Earth, then held the “speed” button down until he could see the planet visibly growing ahead of him. He looked back to see if he had any pursuit, but the entire Moon was dwindling like an untied balloon.

He was twenty-five minutes out—and nearly to Earth—before his wrist phone buzzed for attention. Delmer ignored it, afraid that Leo might be able to control the ship with his voice over the phone, and hoping that he couldn’t do it even without the phone, but the ship kept on in its headlong plunge toward the blue and white planet below. The hunt was on, though.

As he drew closer to home, Delmer wondered where he ought to take his stolen UFO. It would be indisputable proof of the existence of the Black Space Program, but only if he could get it to the right people before Leo and his cronies caught up with him. None of the government agencies would be any good; they were already in on it. Except for SETI, of course, but Delmer wondered if they had enough clout to blow the conspiracy even with a UFO as evidence.

Probably not. To do any good, Delmer was going to have to reach hundreds of thousands of people with his proof, and he was only going to get one shot at it. As soon as he went public, a whole fleet of Vreenish would probably show up to reclaim the ship.

Earth was a flat wall outside the window now. Delmer looked for continents, finally identifying the outline of southwestern Africa. That would put America around the curve of the planet to the left, so Delmer angled his descent that way and skipped along just above the atmosphere until he saw the outline of Florida slide toward him.

Hmm. Not good. NASA would undoubtedly be looking for him soon, if they weren’t already. He reached out to change course, but a sudden thought made him pause. NASA could have saucers anywhere in the world in less than ten minutes; it didn’t matter if he went to Florida or anywhere else.

Except Florida was where the National Revealer was published. The newspaper of the conspiracy set. Hundreds of thousands of people read it every week and believed every word. Delmer smiled as he slowed the UFO down and brought it in toward the Miami coast. Everything was going to work out fine. He’d be famous, a national hero.

Maybe he’d even get to meet Elvis.