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Max Hadron: The Case of the Stranded

Spaceship

by John Martellaro

February 17, 2003


1

I was half asleep. There was a hum outside my window that kept bothering me. I went to the foot of my bed, still wrapped in my quilt, and lifted the window shade just a bit. I peeked out towards the foothills.

And there it was.

Or wasn't, I mean. Those foothills have some very expensive homes, and they keep a lot of lights on all night. But the lights were gone, smothered by something big and close and dark that swallowed up the light.

Suddenly I was scared.

I crawled back to my pillow and buried my head but the hum wouldn't go away. I glanced at my clock. It was 3:20 in the morning. There was nothing to do but get up and get dressed. I thought about calling my mom, but then I remembered that she was at Mount Hamilton all night.

Jeans. Sweatshirt. Sneakers. Jacket. My observing flashlight with the red lens. Cell phone. I threw everything in my backpack and went to the bathroom. When I came back, I carefully peeked out the window again. Whatever was there was still there, and if anything, the hum was louder. It sounded like electric power lines do occasionally.

Sure, that must be it.

I went out the back door, from the kitchen, and headed out into the desert behind our house. I kept my eyes on the foothills, trying to determine what was blocking the light. I used the flashlight to avoid the low brush and prairie dog holes.

I had taken my eyes off the foothills, watching my footing, when the sound stopped dead. I stood frozen and looked up. In the blackness was a light, like a door. Something was looking back at me....

 

2

 

Diane was snuggled up against me, her head on my left shoulder and her left thigh across my legs. It was very early on a Sunday morning, much earlier than I am accustomed to being awake. I realized I was coming out of my stupor because the phone was ringing gently. As well it should. There's no such thing as a loud phone in the Hadron house.

Diane handed me the phone with a wink. "It's for you. It's a woooman."

Squinting from the morning sunlight, I fumbled with the phone. "Hello?"

"Is this Max Hadron?"

"Who's this?"

"My name is Amanda Lessing. I need your help."

"How'd you get this number?" I mumbled. I was thinking it must be another stressed out housewife who wanted her husband tailed. I yawned.

"Rachel Pattersen gave me your number. She's a friend."

I sat up quickly. I felt my stomach start to tighten. Rachel was the wife of Dr. Will Pattersen, an astronomer we had helped on two previous cases. Unfortunately, we hadn't helped enough. Will was murdered March 13, 2002 because I didn't do a good enough job protecting him. I suspected this conversation was going to be unpleasant. "It's very early Ms. Lessing...."

"It's an emergency. My daughter is in grave danger. I need your help. She could be dead in the next hour."

"Have you called the police?"

"I can't do that! You will understand when you get here."

"Where is your daughter now?"

"There's something terrifying in my back yard. She's inside it."

"Where are you Amanda?"

"In Gilroy. 1505 Sunset Road. Gilroy."

I dropped my head and sighed. I had to do this for Rachel. Diane looked up at me, questioning. I put my hand over the phone's mouth piece and told Diane to get dressed, mountain clothing, and throw some breakfast bars and bottled water in a backpack. And the Canon camera. She quickly disappeared into the bathroom.

Back on the phone: "We'll be there in twenty minutes."

 

3

 

At 0645 on a Sunday morning, highway 101 southbound was light. I was able to run the Porsche Boxster up to 95 and leave it there, knuckles tight on the steering wheel. It took about six minutes to get to Gilroy. The GPS directed us out of town on a deserted road toward some low mountains. I told Diane what I knew on the way, which wasn't much. Diane let her blonde hair ripple in the wind as she munched on a power bar, not the least concerned that she was on her way to encounter possible danger. I like that about Diane. Always calm.

We pulled into a dirt driveway at 1505 Sunset Road in a cloud of dust. It was the only house on the road we had seen except for one. Amanda Lessing ran out of a smallish, adobe style house on a collision course with the Porsche, a little too close for comfort, even before we stopped. I had to make a last second tug on the steering wheel to avoid her.

She was a slim and wiry woman with very short black hair, almost boyish in its cut, wearing jeans and a white flannel shirt. Her blue eyes locked onto mine as soon as I scrambled out of the car, and she grabbed my arm with both hands and a firm tug.

"Who's that?" Amanda said, glancing at Diane.

"My security consultant."

Confronted with this declaration, Amanda seemed satisfied. They always are. Then she looked back at me with total concentration. "Come! Quickly!" And then, like a Wookie, she nearly pulled my left arm from its socket as she dragged me around to the back of the house. I glanced back to see Diane fumbling with her camera as she followed a safe distance behind us.

As we rounded the edge of the house in the back, I saw it hovering there, a black sphere, squished. Diane told me later, an oblate spheroid. There were no reflections, no lights, no rivets, no portholes, nothing. Just a blackness floating in space about 50 yards away. It seemed to be about the size of the house, maybe 15 yards in diameter, maybe half that amount high.

It hummed gently and floated there.

I waved to Diane to stay back, just around the corner of the house. "Where is your daughter?" I asked and pried my arm from Amanda's grip.

"She's in there! Stacey is in that, that ship!"

"How do you know?"

Amanda looked at me, calmly, for the first time. "Because she went in and came back out. That's how."

"All right. Calm down. Let's sit down here and talk about this." I positioned myself so I could keep an eye on The Black Thing. It didn't move and didn't seem threatening for the time being. I took a deep breath and started asking questions. Every once in awhile, I heard a click as Diane leaned around the corner of the house and snapped a photo.

What followed was a rather frenetic question and answer period. I finally dragged out of Amanda Lessing that she was an astronomer. She had come home at 0515 this morning and found her fourteen year old daughter Stacey up and about, excited to tell her about a extraterrestrial visitor in the back yard. Stacey had led her outside and tried to talk Amanda into boarding the ship with her. When that failed, Stacey broke away, ran back to the ship, and seemed to, somehow, disappear into the dark shape. Amanda backed away involuntarily. That was about an hour ago, Stacey had not come out since.

"Do you think she'd come out if you hailed her?" I asked.

"I've called and called. I don't know what to do. I don't want to call the police because I know there's nothing they would do but call the military. Then it might take off, and I'd never see Stacey again. Rachel said you'd know what to do."

"Exactly." I heard myself say. Right down my alley. Diane finally came around and joined us. Diane suggested we spread out, join hands, and hail the ship, pleading for Stacey to come out.

Which she did.

There seemed to be some kind of short ramp, but I couldn't see it. Stacey just ran down something and approached us. Stacey was a small girl for her age. I guessed not more than 5 feet tall and 80 pounds. Her dark hair mimicked her mother's short, boyish haircut. She was in jeans, a white sweatshirt and sneakers.

Amanda immediately ran to her. I didn't want Amanda too far from me, so I trotted along, a few feet behind. That way, if this extraterrestrial spaceship with the power to travel deep space at warp speeds, possibly armed with phaser cannons and what not, tried to make a move, I could pull out my trusty Heckler and Koch 9 mm and plug it full of holes.

Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Stacey looked solemn as Amanda hugged her. After a few seconds, she pushed away and surveyed the situation.

"Mom. We gotta talk."

"Okay. Let's go inside, okay? Can we do that?"

"Sure. But who's that stupid looking guy with the gun? And who's that woman?"

"They came to help. I called them when you didn't come out for a long time."

"Like I said. We gotta talk."

We settled around the kitchen table while Amanda hurriedly poured some orange juice for all of us. The table was right in front of a large picture window, so we could continue to observe the ship -- still hovering and motionless. The low hum came right through the walls of the house.

Amanda wiped her hands on a dish towel and sat down next to Stacey. "Stacey, I don't want you going back in that ship! I'm worried sick about you. What were you doing in there?"

Stacey placed her hands on the table and caressed the glass of orange juice nonchalantly. "I won't let them leave."

We all looked at each other.

"Huh?" Amanda was the first to blurt it out.

"They're stuck here, and they said I'm the cause. I don't know how I'm doing it, but... I guess I don't want them to leave. So they can't."

We all looked at each other again.

Amanda slid her chair closer to Stacey's and put her hands on Stacey's shoulders. "Stacey, you mean you are willing them to remain here? Against their wishes?"

"Yes."

"How are you doing that?"

"Dunno."

"Have you ever done anything like this before?"

"Dunno."

"You must let them go!" Amanda said in a muffled scream. Embarrassed, she covered her mouth with her hand.

"I want you to come and meet them," Stacey said quietly. She sipped her orange juice.

Amanda paused for a long time. Maybe thirty seconds. "If I come meet them, will you let them go?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I just won't."

"Then we're leaving. We're going to uncle Stuart's."

"I can't leave either," Stacey said calmly.

"And why not?"

"They won't let me." Stacey shrugged. "As long as I hold them here, they will keep me from leaving the area. That's what they said."

"They won't let you leave because you're holding them here!" Amanda screamed again. "Do you know how dangerous that is?"

Diane spoke for the first time, calmly. "Amanda, may we talk to you alone in the other room?"

 

4

When I walked through the lighted portal, there was a single dark creature in front of me. Inside, it was much darker, and I could hardly make out the figure's outline. There seemed to be a blurry fog enshrouding it. From what I could see, it appeared to be a large winged being, but I couldn't be sure. It stood upright. I couldn't see a beak. A long, slender arm and hand beckoned me.

We went into a room that was totally empty. It was so dark, I couldn't see the floor, and I hesitated to step forward. I assumed the room was circular because there was a ring of very faint blue lights above me. The creature beckoned me again, and I inched forward, clutching my backpack. Oh man, was it scary.

The extraterrestrial turned to me and spoke in English, very quietly. "It appears you have the power to retain us on the ground. You must not do this."

Suddenly I was a lot more scared. "What will you do to me if I don't let you go?"

"Harm may come to you."

"Doesn't that violate any of your laws?" I asked. It came out more smug than I intended.

"Release us before it is too late."

"But I want my mother to meet you. She's an astronomer! When she gets home, I'll bring her aboard."

"No."

"Please?"

"When your mother comes home, explain what has happened. She will guide you. Go."

So I paced and paced in my room for two hours, glancing out the window to make sure my friends had not left. When my mom got home, the sky was starting to brighten. I thought, what a great day it's going to be.

 

5

Amanda, Diane and I formed a tight huddle in the living room. I started the discussion. "Dr. Lessing, we don't have a lot of time. Fairly soon, someone in the neighborhood is going to report something suspicious. It might be the newspaper boy. Early morning hikers might stroll by. Or maybe a low flying private pilot. Something. When the police arrive, they will cordon off the area. People with scanners will pick that up, and soon there will be hundreds of very crazy people out in the street. Then the military will arrive. Heaven knows what will happen next. I strongly suggest you urge your daughter to be done with this." I paused and sighed.

Diane took her cue and started. "Amanda, Stacey is very likely keen on the idea of you getting credit for this first contact. She's determined not to let the ETs get away before some significant authority arrives and declares you famous. But you know what's really going to happen. You need to explain it to her before we hear the sirens."

"I'll try again," Amanda said and went back into the kitchen.

We stayed in the doorway to the living room and overheard part of the conversation.

"Stacey, dear, listen. It's wrong to think I'll get any credit for this. I didn't do anything of a scientific nature. Besides, you watched Contact with me. Remember what happened?"

"Yeah, I remember. The stuffed shirt, chauvinist, bigwig males came in and stole all the glory from Ellie Arroway."

"That's right! As soon as those stuffed shirts arrive, you and I will be whisked away. No one will ever even know who we are. The Air Force will tell the reporters we're in Oregon on vacation."

Stacey began to pout. As I watched Amanda hug her daughter, I turned to Diane. "It just dawned on me. Doctor Lessing could be in danger."

"How's that?"

"Leverage."

"Oh, God. You're right. We have to get her out of here!"

That's when we heard the sirens.

to be continued...


Copyright © 2003 by John Martellaro, All rights reserved. Quantum Threads banner artwork by Tracy Haynes. This is a work of fiction. All people, places, entities, and events are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Previous adventures of Max Hadron:

The Case of the Missing Extraterrestrials (April 22, 2002)

The Case of the Extraterrestrial Redirect (June 10, 2001)

The Case of the Paperless Portfolio (Nov 12, 2000)

The Case of the GoogolPlex Smackdown (June 25, 2000)

The Case of the WWDC Murder (June 13, 2000)

 

Send your comments to: John Martellaro

Copyright © 2003, John Martellaro

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