Snow crunched under my boots as I walked up the steps to the station. I opened the door and stomped my feet, trying to knock the ice off. The entryway was wet and dirty with a line of muddy footprints leading into the building and piles of melting snow sitting just inside the door. I took my hat off and brushed more flakes from the brim.
I had just gotten back from a witness interview. A little old lady had been riding the number 5 train when a black male boarded, filled the victim full of daylight with a small shiv, and then got off before the doors closed. I figured that was mundane enough to not get the government on our backs but you never know. Danny was out sick so I was avoiding any heavy lifting. Since I didn’t have a suspect anyway, I felt comfortable running my yap.
My stomach growled as I made my way to my desk. I was looking forward to lunch. Betty had packed me pastrami on rye with the fancy hot mustard. I sat down and opened the brown bag. I was digging in when I noticed everyone else in the department was huddled around the radio. Was Truman giving a speech? I listened closer as I chewed.
The announcer was reading a news bulletin. He mentioned he didn’t have much information but there was a reporter headed to the scene. Figures. Gotta get the rumble out before you even know what’s going on. I tuned out and enjoyed my sandwich.
My mind drifted to work. If I was lucky I could close this case without the military taking it away. Our last two had been pulled before we even got started. Maybe the third time would be the charm. It certainly didn’t seem unusual, in fact, it was most likely gang related. The murder weapon wasn’t even a gun, let alone a raygun.
I finished the sandwich and got up to throw the trash away. The crowd at the radio was getting louder and restless. My curiosity got the better of me and I headed over. The on scene reporter was describing the location.
“…larger and numbers several dozen at the moment. So far no one has approached the craft and since it landed there has been no movement inside or out. I’ve been at the scene for about 10 minutes and an eyewitness stated the craft landed about 12:30 pm, local time. Everyone seems to be waiting and wondering what this is and why it’s here.”
The announcer cut back in. “George, if you could please give any listeners just joining us a description of the craft?”
“Of course. The craft is long and shaped like a rounded off rectangular box. The front end slopes downward and comes to a flat edge across the nose. The rear is an array of short cones that flare outward. The outer shell is a shiny dark blue color, nearly black. While the eyewitness I’ve spoken to stated it flew in there are no fixed wings or propeller. There are also no windows or portholes that I can see. The entire structure is smooth and the only protrusions are three telescoping legs.”
“Thank you, George, and thank you for listening to WINS. We’ll continue this report after a word from our sponsor.”
I frowned. That didn’t sound like any plane I’d ever heard of. Even the experimental jet propelled fighters the Germans built had wings. Then it hit me: this was a space plane. This was the envoy Lauren had been talking about. The soda pop advertisement ended and the announcer came back.
“If you’re just joining us, there is an unidentified craft that landed about 45 minutes ago. We ask that everyone remain calm as this is not a fictional account. We cannot be certain who is piloting the craft at this point as there has been no activity since it landed. Reporter George Simmons is at the scene. George, what’s happening now?”
“Well, Dave, not much other than the crowd of gawkers has increased a bit. They are keeping their distance, however.”
George stopped speaking as the microphone picked up a low rumble that got gradually louder and then began to fade.
“My apologies, a squadron of fighters just flew over. That’s the second pass they’ve made. I don’t want to speculate but the presence of military fighters indicates the craft is not one of theirs.”
The army would definitely be interested in this. I figured it would only be a matter of time before they had boots on the ground at the site.
“Are there any markings on the craft at all? Could this be a Japanese plane, or a German one?”
“There is indication of national origin or markings of any kind. The craft is completely nondescript.”
“Is it possible that this is some sort of remotely operated craft? Is it even large enough to have a pilot?”
“I don’t know, Dave. It’s certainly large enough to have a pilot and perhaps even a small crew but again, there is no indication that there is anyone inside or how many occupants there are. Military vehicles are approaching the scene now. Army, it looks like: several jeeps and two covered trucks.”
“Tell us what they’re doing, George.”
“They’re cordoning off the area, pushing the crowd further back. Bear with us as we may need to move. The soldiers have their weapons in hand. They’re spreading out around the perimeter now and taking position behind the impromptu barricade. They have trained their weapons on the craft and now seem to be waiting along with the rest of us.”
“Would it be safe to say that the craft is not one of ours, then?”
“I think that would be a safe assumption, yes, Dave.” Several people began speaking in the background. “It’s opening! The craft is opening! A doorway has opened in the side and a ramp is descending. I can’t see inside, the interior is completely dark. Someone is coming out. It’s a man. And another man. Three men and two women are coming down the ramp. One of the soldiers is barking at them to stop and put their hands up. They’re still coming forward. They’ve reached the bottom of the ramp now.”
I could hear the soldier’s gruff voice booming through the microphone.
“They’re continuing to move towards the military barricade. The soldier is warning that they will open fire if they don’t stop. The group doesn’t seem to hear or-“
Sharp cracks of gunfire erupted through the radio and the feed went dead.
Several people surrounding the radio let out shocked gasps, others were excited and some just seemed confused. The announcer said, “George? George are you there?” His voice was strained. “Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize, but it seems we are experiencing some technical difficulties. While we straighten that out, here’s a word from our sponsor. Thank you for listening.”
Technical difficulties my ass. The army boys had opened fire on the Seraphim and now we were all going to hell in a handbasket. But I wasn’t going to wait around for any firey rain. I was collecting my things from my desk when the phone rang.
“Richards.”
“Sammy! You listening to the radio?”
“I sure am, Danny. Hell of a thing.”
He was silent for a moment. “I told you we shouldn’t have kept this quiet.”
“Maybe not.” Somehow, I didn’t think it would have made any difference no matter what. “I was just on my way out. Did you need anything?”
“Nah, I’m all set. Headed home to the wife and kids?”
“You know it.”
“Take care of your family, Sam.”
“I will.” We both hoped it wouldn’t be the last time we’d speak to each other, but having been through the war and then watching each other’s backs on the street we didn’t kid ourselves. Neither of us saw the need to voice those feelings. “See ya around, Danny.”
“You too, Sammy.”
My desk was pretty spartan so it wasn’t much longer before I grabbed my coat and hat and headed home. Traffic wasn’t too bad just yet. I fiddled with the radio as I drove.
“…contact with our field reporter. George, are you there?”
“I am, Dave.”
“Please tell us what happened after those…I assume they were gunshots?”
“Yes, the soldiers had opened fire on the group that exited the craft. However, they are no worse for wear. The bullets seem to have just vanished before impact. The group is now standing still and the officer in command has approached them. They’re having what appears to be a genial conversation.”
That was a relief. Although it may have simply meant that the Seraphim didn’t make snap decisions. The Army’s tendency to shoot first and ask questions later could still help convince the aliens that we weren’t worth saving, but we’d cross that bridge when we came to it.
“I’m going to try and get closer so I can get some information. Sir! Sir, George Simmons, reporter for WINS. What can you tell me about the origin of this craft and its passengers?”
“No comment. Move back.”
“But sir, please-“
“You need to move back. Now!”
“They’re pushing us back and leading the five men and women to one of their trucks. The truck is pulling away now and the remaining soliders are guarding the craft. They are urging the crowd to disperse.”
“Where do you think these people are from, George?”
“I’m not sure, Dave. I will say that it doesn’t appear to be an invasion force. Political refugees perhaps or even-”
I flicked the radio off. They were going to speculate the rest of the day and I could do that on my own. How many people had heard that broadcast? How many thought the visitors were foreigners and how many thought they were honest to god aliens? Was this October 1938 all over again? Except this time, would the aliens actually be here blowing us to kingdom come? We certainly didn’t make a good first impression. The only way it could have been worse would be if those bullets had actually hit their target.
Which raised another question: what happened to those slugs? Did the aliens have some sort of magical lead repellent? They had a magical human disguise and plasma-shooters so I guess it wasn’t too far-fetched. The military would love to get their hands on those toys and whatever else the aliens might have, I bet. I had to admit that I was curious what else the aliens had to offer and hoped we could figure out a way to work together. Not only because we’d live to see another day but so we could get flying cars or something out of the deal, too.
I parked the car in the driveway and got out. I could see Betty puttering around in the kitchen as I put my key in the lock. She waddled over as I came in.
“You’re home early, honey. Did you have a chance to eat lunch?”
“Yeah, it was good. Where are the kids?” I took off my hat and hung my coat up.
“Ben is napping and Sarah is playing in her room.”
“Have you been listening to the radio?”
The warm smile was replaced with a look of confusion. “No, why? Sam, is there something wrong?”
“We’ve got visitors.” I walked over to the kitchen table to sit down.
“What do you mean? What’s going on?” She took a load off next to me.
“Remember the raygun case last year and how the Army came and grilled us?”
“I couldn’t forget something like that. Are there more rayguns?”
“There may be. I don’t know yet, but I need to tell you something. It’s a lot, so just listen and then I’ll answer any of your questions I can. Ok?”
She nodded. I spilled my guts. I let her know everything about the plasma pistols and Bobby, Lauren and the Erelim, the Seraph Coalition, and what happened on the radio with the arrival of the envoy. I explained my actions over the past six months and asked for her forgiveness.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, dear.”
“I should have told you. You wouldn’t have thought I was losing it. I should have trusted you.”
“It’s ok. You told me only what I needed to know and that’s all I’ve ever asked.” She stroked my arm. “So what’s going to happen now?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. The Army took the aliens. I’m sure they’ll find out everything pretty soon and at some point, they’ll probably back track to me. Who knows what the aliens are going to do.”
“Do we need to leave?”
I swallowed hard and met Betty’s eyes. “This is my house and you’re my family. I’m not going anywhere without a fight.”
She kissed me and hugged me tight. “We’ll follow your lead.”
We held each other for a long moment. It was amazing how calming a hug from my wife could be. That calm broke apart when someone started hammering on the door.
I stalked over and looked out the peephole. Army uniforms.
Shit.
I undid the locks and turned the knob.
“Can I help you?”
“Samuel Richards?”
“That’s me.”
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