After we ate, we
did the dishes, then sat for a bit on the porch, listening to May and
enjoying the early evening, before the sun is so low the rows in the
fields start to blend into one another. I spent most of the time
looking into Bill's eyes drowning in his love.
"We have a few
hours before we have to leave," I said, "let's go upstairs
for a bit."
"I'm horny,
too," he said guilelessly, "I want to try something.
Stay there for a second."
He got up and
got in front of me, then kneeled down and took my face in his hands.
"I love you,
Graham. I want to suck you. I want to taste you." he
pulled my head forward, gave me a thorough kiss that left no part of my
mouth unexplored. Roger, of course, was amused.
"Stand
up," he said as he pulled away from me.
"This have
something to do with Cory and Rob?" I asked, standing up, my
crotch directly in front of his face.
"I've never
tasted you proper," Bill said, as he unhitched my buckle. "Don't
say another word until I finish."
I nodded, then
just put my hands on his head, my little fingers massaging his temples,
my thumbs on his forehead, overlapping. He was looking right into
my eyes, the blue so dark it was almost purple, the pupils lost in the
center, the whites looking like bleached linen.
His fingers
found the metal buttons, opened them slowly, the heels of his palms
pressing into my thighs, kneading, his right palm pushing Roger down.
My jeans fell to the bottom of my legs, and I just stood there,
watching as his lips kissed the fabric of my boxers, the heat of his
breath on the pubic area right above Roger's root.
He pulled my
boxers down, from the sides, the elastic gradually moving over my
hairs, the root, then more and more of the stem. He kissed my
root, flicking with his tongue between pursed lips.
"You smell
wonderful," he whispered. He breathed out his nose, and I
felt it go around my root, down the stem some. I felt my knees
quiver a little. Exciting.
The elastic went
over Roger's end, and Bill's lips were there to catch the tip, hold him
down a little. I was still staring into his eyes, and watched as
one detached, as Roger slowly disappeared into my man's mouth, until
almost half of him was gone. I felt his warm moistness, the tight
ring of his lips around me, pushing the skin back, until it would
stretch no more. His tongue lathered the tip, then the head, then
the little piece underneath that felt so ticklish.
He didn't try to
put me all the way into his throat. I was glad,— I didn't think
he could. I was wrong, but I didn't learn that until later.
He just held me in his mouth, looking up at me, the love so strong I
could almost wrap my hand around it, and then started to move back and
forth, slowly, making love to me, making me so tender inside I started
to shake.
I felt it boil
over in just a few seconds, felt Roger swell up like a hot irrigation
hose just before it bursts, saw it pulse, and then just moaned as my
first convulsion shook me. My seed shot out of me, into his
mouth, his eyes still boring into mine, his hands holding my nuts,
gently rolling them, his eyes widening only a little as I came again
and again, my body vibrating like a road grinder. He swallowed
me, once, twice, again, and I stopped firing, started shivering as the
juices flowed out of me. I heard my moans, but from outside,
somehow, like they were someone else's.
Roger finally
started to soften a little, but Bill still didn't let go of my eyes.
His tongue tickled me on Roger's head, and it was all I could do to
keep from pulling away.
Then he pulled
my boxers up, until they were lifting Roger up, and let me out of his
mouth, lifting still, until Roger was pointing straight up, trapped by
the elastic. His eyes still on mine, he lifted my jeans, pulling
back a little as he fastened them with the top button only, then hooked
the belt buckle.
I was still
shivering a little in wonder at the erotic feelings going through me. I
didn’t say anything to him like he requested. I wanted to crush
him to me, run upstairs with him in my arms, take him, fill him.
He stood up, his eyes never leaving mine, his lips open, we kissed and
the magic moment ended, leaving me drained and happy like I am only
with him.
"You enjoyed
that," he whispered to me as we walked into the house, up the
stairs, "I could see it in your eyes."
"That was
love," I said,— my first words in more than fifteen
minutes, "I always enjoy that."
"I want
more," he said,
"Love?"
"Of you. I
never did that before. I could feel you coming,— your power,—
like never before."
"My turn,"
I said.
"You don't have
to," he murmured as we undressed each other. He had an
advantage, he already rehearsed.
"I need
you," I said as I got his jeans off. His boots were still
on the front porch. So were mine.
"I love
you," he said as his briefs fell to the floor, as my lips kissed
his cock, opened, and took him inside. It was so soft, but so
hard, too, the big horse-head a perfect fit between my lips, wrapped
tightly around my new teeth. I pulled back a little, and the
crown pulled against my lips from the inside, trapped. I tasted
him, with my tongue, just holding him there, exploring, looking at his
bare chest, his chin. I took more of him in, and more, until he
hit the back of my throat, and I almost gagged. I could only take
part of his length. There was more, but I couldn't move it into
my throat.
He moved,
pulling me up on the bed, swinging around somehow until I felt his
mouth on my dick again, hard, excited. I looked at the underside
of his dick, the thick tube leading back under his balls, big and
slightly hairy. I touched them, tentatively, because I'd never
looked at a man's balls before, up close, not even my own, and was
surprised when they moved around all on their own when I touched them.
I felt him
moving back and forth on me, almost urgently, and I moved the same way
on him, but more slowly, my head resting on his right leg, under
me. I watched as his dick got harder, then felt it expand even
more, knew it was going to spew into my mouth, give me his semen, and I
waited until I saw his dick shoot for the first time before pulling
back, feeling his come spit into my mouth, for only the second time,
but this time in the great spouts of the beginning. I sucked and
swallowed, sucked and swallowed, the head like a pulsing balloon in
there.
I came
again. I didn't even know I was going to, but I was coming into
his mouth at the same time. No matter,— his dick was the most
important thing. It kept spouting, then was flowing, just a little,
rewarding me with its tiny pearls. I stayed like that until he
was almost fully soft, but still engorged, bigger by far than when he
is completely at rest. I wondered that it was so good, making
love to him like that.
He let me out of
his mouth and I reluctantly let his go, too, and we moved on the bed
until we were on the pillows, kissing everywhere, saying "I love
you" all over again, like it was our first time.
"I am afraid
your security services may have strong suspicions of the origins of
local energy broadcasts. I have taken defensive steps."
Groth said, just as I was about to doze. The way he said it made
me sit up and take note. "There is going to be a rather major
storm," he continued, "lightning, thunder, several inches
of rain, a number of small tornados, quite tightly defined. It's
forming on a line, West of Gove, at this moment. I think you
might want,— I want you to be in the hangar as it passes. Things
have changed."
I groaned, then
looked down on him. He is such a beautiful a man. I pulled
myself to my feet, dragging him up to me. My lips were over his
left nipple, and I bent down, just a tad, and kissed it, nibbled on it
with my teeth, sucked just a little as it got harder.
"I want
you," Bill said, "I want you forever."
"I'll love you
longer, I swear," I said, knowing it was true, "I will
never stop loving you."
"You must
leave,— now," said Groth, aloud. "The storm is getting
larger than foreseen. It will be dangerous to drive in less than
three minutes. Take your clothes and dress in the hangar.
Do not waste a minute. I have already asked Rob and Cory to
return. They are near. There is genuine danger. You
must leave now. There is no time left. You must run."
There was a
God-awful bright flash of lightning out the window, then a sharp crack
of thunder that made the whole house tremble,— along with our
bones. Close. No more than a quarter mile. Less,— it
was almost simultaneous, no more than a second. We got the
idea. I grabbed my jeans and shirt, rolled them up around two
T-shirts and two pairs of boxers from the drawer, and ran, right behind
Bill. Thunder rolled, and another crack of lightning came from
behind the trees, flashing on the window at the end of the hall.
Not as close,— two seconds, at least.
"Boots!
Porch!" I hollered, and Bill handed me off his shirt and jeans,
turned right to get the boots. I ran to Jeep, threw our clothes
behind my seat, piled onto the seat, pulled the keys from under the
mat, looked up at the West as I put the key in the ignition.
The sky was
black. Carbon black, the kind of sky that spawns tornados by the
dozen, but not in May, not often. You could see huge thunder
heads above, lightning flashing like in a press conference, thunder a
constant background drum. They looked to be almost directly
overhead, even though they were still fifteen miles to the West, they
were high up. Great brush strokes of rain against the yellow-gray
horizon, at a forty-five degree angle to the ground. I saw a new
funnel, reaching down from the flat bottom of the cloud, silhouetted
against the rain strokes by evil-looking tendrils of blue electric
fire, not touching the ground, not yet. Nobody who never saw one
up close would understand the shivers that went from my neck to my
toes. The wind was already gusting the trees around the
house. I fired Jeep up, as Bill got in, beautifully naked next to
me, and we roared down the drive, straight over to Katy, to avoid the
extra turn, forgetting we were in the raw.
"We're going to
make a pretty picture!" Bill yelled above the engine and wind.
"The hell with
it!" I yelled. "Nothing they ain't already seen, one way or
t'other!"
Nobody saw
us. When we went through town, all the shutters were already
drawn, every one was either in their storm cellars, or close enough to
get into them in a few seconds. You don't wait for the weather
report when you see a powerful thunderstorm line coming across the
plains of Kansas, the clouds boiling like they were going to explode.
The gate was
open. Rob's Ram was in front of the door to the shop, the lights
were on. They lived twenty-five, maybe thirty minutes away, but
beat us to the hangar.
"I asked them to
come earlier. I did not want to interrupt you," Groth said,
"It has become necessary to change plans."
We pulled up to
the shop just as Rob pulled his truck inside, following him right
in. The wind was starting to blow hard, from the East. Cory
looked at us, sitting in the Jeep nude, and waved, laughing as he
struggled to close the shop door behind us.
"Open the hangar
doors!" Groth said. "The East ones only!"
"But the drive?"
The fifth ship
is coming in,— now!"
"In this storm?"
"It will not
affect the ships."
"The wind will
blow the hangar up!"
"The hangar will
be protected."
I drove Jeep up
to the doors, into the hangar, and before I even stopped, Bill was out,
pulling them open. Groth was telling him, too. I took a
mental picture of him, muscles straining as he hauled the doors
open. Rob switched on the shop lights, Cory was running towards
us.
"I'll get the
lights!" he yelled from somewhere to my left as the doors parted.
I pulled ahead,
pausing only a moment as Bill jumped in, and we sped across the floor
to the office where the controls were. The lights came on.
"This is
crazy!" Bill said as we went. "Where'd this storm come
from?"
"I think Groth
is behind it," I yelled, "Part of his defensive measures!"
"I only hastened
the formation, so it will occur tonight rather than tomorrow
afternoon," Groth said. "It is safer to move the ships
under cover of such a storm."
"I thought you
said midnight!"
"Matters are
becoming complicated. We are under observation."
"By who?"
"A government
surveillance vehicle disguised as a delivery truck, an Air Force AWACS
and two satellites at all times."
"Are we in
trouble?"
"Not as
yet. All data received by the three are sufficiently
normal. The storm will mask most of the energy exchange.
The truck will be decommissioned during the passage of the storm over
the town. The AWACS has already been forced to move
Eastwards. Its radar and electronics listening gear will be out
of effective range at decloaking. The satellites' data sensors
will be overwhelmed by high-level lightning and highly charged thermal
air currents."
"What does
decommission mean?"
"All electrical
equipment will be degraded by a strike of what appears to be lightning."
"Nobody gets
hurt!" I shouted out.
"Most certainly
not." said Groth,— almost in a huff, "That will not be
necessary."
I piled out of
the Jeep at the corner and plunged into the office, switching on the
pumps. It took forever for the pressure to build. Bill came
in, still naked, incredibly handsome, carrying our clothes. He
put them on a chair, pulled out a pair of my clean boxers, opened them
for me to step into, bending down to hold them at ankle level. I
put my hand on his shoulder to steady myself, and put my feet
through. The pumps reached a pressure high enough to start, and I
threw open the lever, just as he put his head up, took my soft cock in
his open mouth.
I wanted to say
'not now,' something, but I couldn't take my eyes away from his.
I got hard just as he pulled away.
"Let that be a
lesson to you." he said with a grin.
"What?" I
somehow got out, taking the T-shirt from him, shrugging it on as he
answered.
"Never stand
naked in front of me,— makes me weak in the knees."
I groaned at the
pun.
"You're gonna
have to get used to it. When we live together, I'm gonna be naked
a lot. You, too." I sputtered over the noise of the doors,
now accompanied by the wind. The lights in the hangar went down
to almost nothing.
"That a
proposal?" he said, grabbing me by the shoulders.
I just looked at
him and grinned.
"Bastard!"
he said, stepping back to shrug on his shirt. "One of these days,
I'm gonna’ pop you one!"
He was smiling
hard. His front tooth was missing, leaving a gap. He saw me
looking at it.
"It fell out in
Jeep! You bounced us around like we were on a rodeo bull," he
said, trying to cover his teeth with his lips. "The rest of them
feel loose, too. How fast do they grow in?"
"Took mine five
days. You're going to eat a lot of mashed 'n gravy!"
"The optimizer
is accelerating growth. You will be without the ability to chew
for no more than two days." Groth said aloud, just for my
benefit. I swear, he isn't really a computer, he has a mind of
his own, and a slightly devilish one, at that.
The doors were
taking forever to open. I glanced up at them, just as the cloak
funnel formed. It was cylindrical from the ship to the
door. It looked different,— more tangible.
"The cloak has
been modified. It is now an energy sink on the interior as well
as a visual cloak. It is directly connected to the probe.
It looks more solid to you, because you are developing senses for a
wider range of wave lengths."
I wondered if
that meant we could now ‘see’ more than the normal light range.
"Yes,"
Groth said to me, "I will explain later."
"What's going to
happen?" Bill asked, buttoning his jeans. There were three
almighty claps of thunder, not rolling, somewhere nearby.
"When the main
front of the storm is just overhead, a bolt of lightning will strike
the Coca-Cola truck. It will overload crucial electronic
circuits of the surveillance equipment, and melt the tires. Other
than surprise, the occupants of the truck will be unharmed."
"What about the
tornados?"
"There will be a
number of them. None will strike the ground, but all will be
intense and large. It will cover much of the fifth ship's energy
anomalies."
Splats of
raindrops hit the other end of the hangar, sounding almost like
hail. The doors were three quarters open. Two more almighty
claps, almost simultaneous with the gigantic flashbulb effect, leaving
a shadow of the hangar on the tarmac for a split second. The sky
was obsidian.
"Stop the
doors. They are open enough," Groth said softly to me.
I threw the
switch, just as Rob and Cory ran up to us. Bill got our boots,
and we just waited, finishing dressing, watching. Rob and Cory
were holding each other. They hadn't seen a ship move, had no
clear idea of what to expect. I didn't want to spoil their surprise.
A crack of
thunder louder than any before, blinding light at the same time, the
very ground trembling under our feet.
There was a rush
of wind, and a sudden deluge of rain battered down like crazy at the
rear of the hangar, the deep roar of the storm to our right, stillness
in front of the hangar, dead quiet. I was about to ask what was
going on when the fifth ship suddenly became slightly visible, as rain
streamed over and around it, making it look like a huge blob of water,
transparent, but with a surface, ghostly in the falling rain. It
was directly overhead, maybe a hundred feet up, moving slowly to the
East, until it stopped, hanging only twenty yards or so out, right over
the hangar front parking pad. It seemed to swivel on an axis, one
end pointing at the doors of the hangar,— headed into the funnel. After
a couple of seconds, the funnel extended out and up, the rain making it
visible, a hole in the rain, reaching up and swallowing the ship, then
pulling back into the hangar, water streaming from it, the ship no
longer visible. I was completely surprised,— I didn’t realized
the funnel could extend vertically.
A violet-blue
beam went from the invisible fifth ship to our ship, bending through
the center of the funnel, showing us where the ‘bow’ of the new arrival
was. You could feel the power surging through the beam, like
being close to a high-voltage wire.
I held Bill
close, and saw Rob and Cory were standing the same way. It was
almost like a religious experience, seeing something so infinitely more
powerful and advanced. The funnel pulled quickly into the hangar,
and I automatically threw the switch to the ‘close’ position.
Cory and Rob
were almost jumping up and down.
Then
‘Presto!’ the fifth ship winked into existence. The
blue-violet beam winked out, and a cable led from the end of it to our
ship.
I got a
surprise,— the fifth ship had a completely different appearance,
much more cylindrical, fatter, stubbier, and shorter than the second
ship.
"It is designed
primarily for storage and retrieval," Groth said, "It does
not normally survey, but remains in orbit, only periodically descending
to gather specimen samples and certain physical recorded data from the
other ships. It does not require the same agility as the other
ships. Direct transmission of data from ship to ship is not a
problem, it is only the physical which must be gathered."
Irrelevant, I
thought. No. Something was wrong. "Why risk the
repository of all that information? Why not send another ship?"
"The others are
all in the final stages of assembling data. This is the back-up
ship. It contains all the data from all the ships. The
other ships contain their own data and that of one other survey
ship. The surveying will be completed only one day before
departure. The mission can not be compromised. This is the
best choice."
Fair enough.
"Let's go,
Guys," I said to Rob and Cory, "Time for a nap."
We actually took
Jeep to the foot of the stairway of our ship to save time. The four of
us went up to the door just as the full fury of the storm hit.
Hail, rain, wind in a banshee howl. Thunderclaps, strong enough
to make the hangar hum in sympathetic vibration. Then the door
closed behind us, and we heard nothing at all from the outside.
After a
two-minute refresher, Groth said we should not yet begin moving units,
as there was a very small, but real, danger the storm might cause
anomalies in the cloak or the probe. The main front of the storm
may have passed, but heavy rains, strong winds and a few small tornados
were still to come.
"Can we see,— I
mean, would it be possible,— ?" Cory asked, looking around the
room.
"Of
course," said Groth, "please,— forgive my lack of hospitality."
The door on the
right side opened, leading to the corridor, the one that went to the
control room.
"Groth, how come
the control room looks vertical in the schematic model?" Bill
asked.
I never
noticed. It looked to me like it always appeared. What did
he mean, 'vertical?'
"The
relationships of spaces in the ship change according to need. The
control room, as you term it, is normally compressed, taking up very
little space while there are no beings on board. As you traverse
the corridor, the axis of gravity is adjusted, so as not to disorient."
"How is that
possible, with all the equipment you have, just moving everything
around?"
"The ship has no
finite dimensions. The surface you perceive as a hull is not
solid, but a field-controlled super-dense layer of unexcitable neutrons
overlaid with another stratum of excitable neutrons. It can be
expanded whenever necessary to create additional space. It is
contracted to the minimum requirements when operating in your
atmosphere or near space, but in unobservable space can be of any
dimension, depending upon the need. The interior is entirely
bio-metallic, and therefore completely flexible. Simple neural
networks control form and function."
"Oh!" Bill
said, musing for a moment, "I see! The crystalline
formation can be modified by,— "
He launched into
some technical doublespeak I didn't even pretend to understand, but
with which Groth immediately agreed, except for something about
sub-molecular synapses and gravitic field manipulation through a
secondary neural network. Not my bag. Bill actually seemed
to understand, which I found more than a little impressive.
"His rebuilding
has been accelerated, as the addition of your life span elements and
splicing of the corrected genetic sequences has been possible for a
longer period of time," Groth said for my hearing only, "He
received your semen a full day before you received his. The
rebuilding will take some time, but is now irreversible, as long as
there is a fairly frequent exchange of cells between you. You
will reach your full potential in approximately thirty-three days."
We walked into
the control room, and after a minute or two of Groth's explanations to
Rob and Cory of what was what, we watched a quick playback of the storm
on the screens as it progressed from West to East over Katy. We
could see all of it from above, on one of the screens, like they show
on the T.V. weather shows a lot, except it was a real picture, not an
animation, in fast-forward. We even saw the two of us driving
through town, two naked maniacs, laughing and having a whale of a
time. I think Groth slowed that segment down just to give us a
laugh.
The biggest
thunder head was huge, the typical flat-iron shape so high it caught a
bit of red from the long-set sun. It was near the center of an
arc-shaped front, stretching from, maybe, a hundred miles North to
sixty miles South, and the biggest was right where Katy was.
Another screen
showed the Coca-Cola truck from two corners. I hadn't even
noticed it as we drove right by it. It was rocking in the wind,
and flashes of lightning brightened the colors. There was even a
screen that showed a hologram view of the inside of the truck. No
coke, just panels of electronics, two guys at a console, a half-open
door to the cab. One was maybe forty, chubby, and bald. The
other was about the same age, skinny, with a bald patch on the back of
his head. Just everyday-looking guys. Spooks.
"You're sure
nobody will get hurt?" I said, looking at another screen, which
showed two huge funnel clouds no more than a mile south of town,
reaching down towards the ground, but not quite touching.
"The two men
were unhurt, although badly frightened. The entire area has been
blanketed with subliminal urges to seek shelter from the storm,"
Groth said. "There are no life forms in imminent danger except on
this farm, where the barn is forty-two percent at risk of collapsing,
directly on a small structure housing thirty-seven chickens and
fourteen ducks."
I didn't even
have to see the screen to know he was talking about Ron Adams'
double-parcel farm, the one that Grant and Liz Bowman share-cropped,
living in the house on the second parcel. The house used to
belong to Jim and Nancy before they went bust and moved to the
city. Liz sold her eggs to the motel on the interstate, ever
since my Mary went. They'd been after Ron to fix the barn for
years, but he wouldn't fork out the money. I have no idea what
they did with the duck eggs. I can't stand them. Way too
rich, almost greasy. I tried hard not to hope Ron's barn would
finally fall.
"That can be
adjusted, if you wish," Groth said.
"I think I
better not influence it," I said, "ain't right to revenge."
"You mean to
take revenge?"
"English is
funny," I said, "you can convert nouns to verbs pretty
easy. Like 'to skate' and ‘to skateboard.’
We saw nothing
of the fifth ship in the maelstrom of the storm, until Groth overlaid a
schematic of it, buried in the depths. It moved deliberately,
slowly, until it was directly over Katy Road, just a tad North of
Gary's place. Three bolts of lightning seemed to strike almost at
once, from the edges of the ship, all looking as if they struck within
a few hundred yards of the Coke truck, immediately below it. The
view of the inside of the truck showed the two men pushing away from
the equipment on the walls, which was all glowing with a faint blue
light. They were swearing and cursing, with such fervor one could
almost hear them, tearing off the earpieces and microphones.
The fifth ship
seemed to raise slightly, at least that's the way it looked on the
screen, and swell in size. Just then, the broadest bolt of
lightning I ever saw hit the funny-looking radio aerial on the Coke
truck, and the whole truck seemed to shimmer in this liquid-looking
coat of blue-green light. The tires just blew apart, and you
could almost feel the jolt as the truck fell six inches to the
ground. The guys in the truck bounced around, but only up and
down. They looked scared for a second, then started babbling. We
couldn't hear them, though.
"They are saying
the equipment is malfunctioning, the microphones dead, the radar and
motion sensors blank," said Groth aloud, "I can reconstruct
the voices, but they would be somewhat garbled if heard directly."
"They’re using
mikes to transmit to someone else? We’re gonna’ have bigger
troubles soon?"
"No
transmissions have been permitted through the cloak around the truck. I
take all the data they broadcast, edit it and rebroadcast it with a
delay of point zero one second. All transmissions ceased with the
first perimeter strikes, at least as far as the receivers are
concerned."
"No
matter," I said, "long as they ain't hurt."
"Not at
all," Groth said, "just a little frightened. The
bigger one messed in his pants.” we all laughed at Groth’s
humor. “The front of the storm has passed. Once the rest of
the storm passes, the thunder heads will turn to high cumulus and
cirrus. Long before it reaches Salina."
We watched for
another few minutes, as the winds whipped the corn and barley, as
driving rains irrigated the soil. Ron's barn didn't collapse,
sparing the chicken coop, but the roof on the other side fell in.
"Time to get
back to work, men," Bill said with a grin, for which he got
groans as well as grins from all of us. It was a nice feeling,
going down the ‘stairs,’ a team ready to get in and play the game.
By five in the
morning, when we filed back into the optimizer for our second "nap," we
transferred more than a hundred units in the drive, a hundred and
twelve to be precise, mostly in the outer ring, as the ones in the
inner ring seemed to take longer to ‘grow,’ and were either in our ship
being finished off, or still on the other ships.
Rob and Cory
left for home to take care of their chores, and Bill and I got his and
mine done just in time for us to get to Charlene's for breakfast.
We took his Ram for a change, and I pulled Jeep into the barn.
Groth said there would be a few thunderstorms a day for the next couple
of days, just to make them look normal, so when the seventh ship came
in on Saturday, the storm wouldn't look out of the ordinary. It
would be the last one, carrying all two hundred seventy-two remaining
units, which would be transferred immediately to our ship, so the other
one could get back to its remaining survey work in India, Bangladesh,
Pakistan and Southern China. Seven was the ‘all other’ data
ship. It was gathering information on the religious convictions
of a three-billion slice of humanity.
When we walked
in, Dan handed me two mugs with his usual shit-eating grin, but a
little extra wide.
"Hear 'bout
Charlie's place?" he asked.
Charlene came
out from behind of the grill, dropped Dan's platter in front of him,
then came round the counter and gave Bill a kiss and me a buss, no
sooner done than she was back at the grill, not even bothering to ask
us if it was the usual. The place was full, but our booth was
empty, as were Ralph and Gary's two stools.
"What?" I
felt the color drain from my face, then rise back up as Charlene
planted hers on my cheek. Andy looked at me from his perch and
grinned. I grinned back.
"Roof blew
in," Pete said from down the counter as I did 'howdy' at him.
"Only damage in town, s'far as we can make out."
"Anybody
hurt?" I stammered. Ole Will sometimes slept in the back
when he threw a fit from drinking.
"Will was in the
back," laughed Dan, "not hurt a’ tall. Scared the white
lightning right out a’ his butt, though. Had to go home and
change his jeans,— sittin' on a plastic trash bag all the way home!"
I let loose a
small laugh, then wondered how the heck he knew.
Before I could
ask, Hal Cooper answered, "Heard it from the house, I did.
Almighty crash and bang. Place looks like always, but no roof to
see no more. Sign down, too. I ran out just as Old Will
comes out, still half-cranked, his overalls was all full of him.
Had ta’ stand upwind of him it was so bad. My pigs' shit never smelt so
bad as his'n.'
We all had a
laugh at Will, even Charlene, cutting yet another slice of one of her
powdered bundts for Pete. She looked real fine. Andy was
taking good care of her, you could see. The happy lines almost
laughed out loud.
Gary came
clomping through the door early, right in front of Ralph. Didn't
even bother to ‘howdy’ everybody, just launched right in about how he
saw lightning hit the Coke truck, parked right on the Katy road, just a
tad North of his drive, so it wasn't hid behind the oaks. We all
listened intently, especially Bill and me.
"Blew its tires
to smithereens," he said at one point, "Never saw nothing
like it. Then these two guys gets out, standing right in the rain
in just coke clothes, gettin' all wet. One of 'em calls someone
on his cell phone. Not Charlie's, cause this tow truck came this
morning just as I was going out back to milk. Hooked up and took
off, right smart.”
"John warn't
hurt or nothin?" Charlene asked.
"Funny
thing," said Gary. "I ran out to see if he was okay and
all, but it warn't John. Some other guys. Said John was
sick, they got tired and decided to take a nap on the little turn-round
we built in front of the drive. Said not to worry, they had hot
coffee in his thermos jug,— didn't need the toilet or nothing."
"But he didn't
deliver here yesterday," Charlene said, "John only comes on
Mondays. What was he doing here? It ain’t like there's
anywhere else in town."
"Nothin' South,
neither," said Ralph.
"Prob'ly a
spy," said Gary.
I almost spilled
my coffee as I sat down across from Bill. I saw the old me in the
mirror,— but, it wasn't the old me. I looked a bit younger, a
little better, my hair was a little darker, my bald pate not quite as
extensive, many of the deep creases just lines.
"After the
departure, the screens will not function at full power for more than
twenty years," Groth said in my ear. "You will have to have them
operate for far longer than that, so the power will have to be reduced
to no more than ten percent. I will explain the details later."
"Damned County
Inspectors again, prob'ly," said Ralph. "They was sniffin'
at Pete's again yesterday, my Cody tole me. She drove through on
the way back from Salina about three-ten, saw the county seal on the
side of a white pickup, next to the pump."
"Warn't
Jerry's?" Somebody asked.
Jerry's pickup
has a county seal on it, since he runs the ag station, but his is a
long cry from white. Kansas mud, I guess you'd call it.
"No way,"
Ralph said, "spankin' new. Gotta’ spend our tax money,
ain't they?"
"Never heard
nothing on 'em," Pete said, "They didn't call."
"Spies,"
Gary said again. He cussed the County, the State and all other
forms of government employees what messed with us.
"Now, Gary, you
know Charlene don't like her air all blue and all," Andy
admonished.
"Sorry,
Charlene," Gary said with a grin, "They just gets to
me. No offense meant."
"None
took," Charlene said as she carried our platters around the
counter, "I feel the same way about them, but the air's a lot healthier
to breathe without the cussin."
She lay the
three platters down on our table.
"How you two
doing out there?" she said.
"Fine,
Mom," Bill said, "coming along just great."
"He's a powerful
help," I said at the same time, "couldn't do it without
him."
"Birthmark's
still not back, eh?" she said with a wink and turned back to go.
"It is pointless
now to change the shield," Groth said to both of us.
"Got it
removed," Bill said.
"Y'ain't foolin'
your momma for a minute," said Charlene, almost coquettishly,
turning back to lean over the table, almost whispering, "I can
see Graham's chest. He ain't never had no hair like that, not
since he was twenty. You two best be careful of what you're up
to. Andy says there's some federal people asking things about the
area. They says they's looking for a plane what got lost,— might
a’ crashed in these parts."
She tweaked
Bill's ear, then bounced back to her counter.
"Groth?"
"The ship was
visible to their radar when we had problems with the Kryst. We had to
divert backup power to the grav-drive, let the cloaks drop."
"How long?"
"One hour, three
minutes," he said.
"Why so long?"
"It took that
long to find you."
"Me?"
"Surely, you do
not think this has been an accident."
"Why me?"
"Your genetic
structure is ideal."
"What for?"
"I will tell you
as soon as the calculations are complete. It is not a bad thing."
"You drive me
crazy," I said as I started in on the sausage. God, it was
great to chew real food again without the taste of the damned adhesive,
without fear of my dentures shifting around.
"On the
contrary," Groth said, "you are far more sane than ever."
I looked at
Bill, the man I love. He was looking at his food, loading his
fork, but looked up at me at once, and winked. My heart got into
my throat for a minute, and I wondered at the fortune God had visited
on me. He's so damned fine.
"He is the
perfect complement to you," Groth said, "there is no
impediment to your union. Again,— you have chosen well."
I knew
that. Still, nice to have it independently confirmed by an
impartial judge.
"I am no longer
impartial." Groth imparted to me.
* * * * * * *
Andy joined us
in the booth before I finished half the platter. He sat next to
Bill. His face was plumb serious.
"Graham, we got
a bit of a muck on our boots."
"Ayuh?"
"You know
anything 'bout a plane goin' down these parts?" he asked, boring
into my eyes.
Bill just kept
on eating like nothing was even slightly amiss. Except his fork
was mostly empty when he lifted it to his mouth. He tried to keep
his lip over the snag-tooth,— with little success. No matter, his
cloak hid it from everybody but me. It gave him an amazingly
different look,— like the Mona Lisa with a blacked out tooth,— almost
coquettish.
"Thought I saw
somethin' that day last week," I said, without dropping my
eye, "Never saw no plane, though. Figure it must a’ been
one a them weather balloons."
"Feds are
lookin' at Katy real hard," he said, dropping his eyes,
"They's reserved a bunch of rooms up to the Interstate. Whole
damned place, according to my sister."
Andy's sister
was the restaurant manager, so she'd know right off.
"The phones is
probably tapped, too. County Court Judge Harrisson’s got a closed
deposition for a search warrant. Don't usually happen 'less
they's a phone tap being asked. Then there's the Air Force,— they
been flying a closed airspace overhead since yesterday morning.
All the commercial jets is being routed North a' here."
"What you
figure?" I asked, spearing some more home fries to sop up a
little yolk.
"Like I said
yesterday,— I figure they's after drugs," he said softly,
"I'm gonna talk to a few of the fellas, make sure they plow under any
suspect plants they might find in their fields. You want to make
sure that hangar is clean as a boiled egg."
That meant he
was going to talk to Pete.
"Why's the
hangar so important?" Bill asked, "Nobody in their right
mind would grow pot in a hangar when they's all this open land 'round
here."
"Don't know,
Son," Andy said, "but they asked us not to use our radios
within two mile a’ Katy unless there's an emergency, and the cell phone
antennas up to the interstate has been switched off. Plus,— I got
asked if I had any reason to suspect if the Boyce hangar was being used
for anything out a’ the ordinary."
"You figure me
opening my garage is out of the ordinary?" I asked.
"They didn't
even know you’s there," Andy laughed softly, "When I told
'em you's a mechanic what fixes tractors, and you got canned out a’
Charlies and decided to open up shop in the machine shop of the hangar,
they got all agitated."
"Who's
they?" asked Bill.
"F.B.I., I
reckon"
"Agitated about
what?" I managed to get in.
"Wanted to know
if I knew you, or you was somebody new, from out a’ town, acted a
little strange, all sorts of questions, comin' at me so fast, I never
got a chance to answer one before the next three was asked. When
I said you was sixty-something and lived in Katy since before you was
born, they lost interest in you, went back to Gary."
"You talk to
him?" I asked softly.
"Ayuh," he
said, glancing at Gary on the end of the counter. "He's certain
he's got no drugs or nothin' anywhere, and swears by you."
"So,— what's
next?"
"Feds get here
tomorrow night,— flying into Salina. Asked about Grainfield, but
the runways ain't long enough."
"Reckon there's
anything I ought a’ do to sort of head off any problems?"
"Make sure that
place is whistle clean by tomorrow night if'n it ain't all
ready," Andy breathed out, barely audible. Looking at Bill,
he added, "and don't be sayin' on the telephone nothing you
wouldn't want yer momma ta’ hear."
"No
sweat," Bill said, "she's heard me say 'shit' and 'hot
damn' more'n once."
"You know what I
mean," Andy pressed, "both of you."
He looked back
at me with a little smile.
"I figure happy
is such a rare commodity in life, ya’ gotta grab it when it comes at
ya,— ya know? But they's some what thinks we all gotta’ have the
same ideas about what makes a man true happy. Yer friends ain't
gonna’ judge ya,' none, but these Feds,— they be strangers. They
got no daddies and come out a’ wombs with no mommas. They’s just
soon as hang you up by your cajones as pick their noses."
"We ain't got
nothing to be shamed by," I said, "no drugs, no airplanes,
no abortion clinics, no,— I don't know what."
"Well,"
Andy said, his voice booming again, "I wish I had a tractor of my
own ta’ bring ya, boys!" He slid out of the booth with the grace
of an athlete, even though he was no longer the slim youth of by gone
days.
"See ya,’"
I said, "and thanks, Andy."
"Nothin,"
Andy said back over his shoulder. He went to the end of the
counter, took a swig of what, must by then, have been pretty cold
coffee, collected a kiss from Charlene,— the first two-dollar kiss I
recollect seeing him get in public,— and went down the little hallway
to the back door and his cruiser.
"Groth?" I
asked aloud, so Bill would hear, "We gonna’ be able to get
moving?"
"There are one
hundred eighty-eight units from the fifth ship which are ready,
transferred to the ship. Of the thirty-six units in the ship
incubators, eighteen are now ready, the other eighteen will not be
ready until tonight."
"If all of us
work on the units, what can we get done?"
"All will depend
upon whether or not there are interruptions."
Bill and I got
up, and I again let him pay Charlene. After our little discussion
from the day before, I figured it was best not to try to take too much
care of him.
"She
undercharged me," he said as we went down the steps.
"Nah," I
said, clapping him on the shoulder, "she gave you credit for the
eggs,— she does it every few days."
"Oh." he
replied.
We got into the
Ram, and Bill pulled away from the curb, heading North on Katy.
He was looking hard in the rear view mirror.
"We got
visitors?" I asked, trying desperately not to look around to see.
"City car
sitting in front of Pete's with two suits in it," he said,
"about as inconspicuous as a Deere parked on a street in downtown
Kansas City with a pair of naked ladies on the fender."
"They following?"
"No."
"There are no
electronic surveillance apparatus in the vehicle," said Groth, "I
have tapped into the portable computer interface they are using for
communications via satellite. There is a series of firewalls to
guard the information databases concerning the ship. They are
investigating the disappearance of a UFO from radar screens midway
between the Interstate at Salina and Katy, which is where we dropped
below the effective surveillance horizon. Satellites were not
focused on the quadrant at the time, and by the time their antennae
were redirected, the cloak was restored following your boarding of the
ship."
"You can see
through their firewalls?" Bill asked.
"They are quite
primitive." Groth said. "At this stage in your computer
development, you continue to use electronic as opposed to neural or
light circuitry. Neural paths are easily opened wherever
electronic paths are established, and firewalls do not even register
the passage of sub-electronic pulses associated with neural networks."
"Are your
circuits neural?" I asked.
"Far too space
intensive." Groth said, "All impulses are sub-spatial,
using a gravity well for instantaneous transmission."
We passed by
another black sedan, parked on the outskirts of town. Undercover siege
this was not.
"Your movements
are being noted, but routinely," said Groth.
We pulled into
the hangar drive, passing through the open gate. I had a
thought,—
"Rob and Cory
are here already," said Groth, "They did their chores and
brought cereal and milk to eat here. Their devotion is touching."
"Reminds
me," said Bill, "Do you . . .? "
"Yes, I have
some emotions which approximate some of yours, although nothing as
intense as those you experience when you are mating, at war, or in
grief. Especially the first. The emotions you experience in
these three conditions have no parallel."
"You're
kidding!" I said. I couldn't conceive of a civilization
without love, at least.
"Yours is a very
young civilization." Groth said, "Stronger emotions are
generally found in the younger civilizations, but yours are the
strongest yet encountered. It may be a function in part of the
short life span of your entire ecosystem."
We pulled into
the shop, parking next to Rob's battered pickup. Rob was working
on the Deere, and the other tractor was in the other bay awaiting
change of filters, tune-up and a new timing chain,— a three-hour
job. The Deere was a two-hour routine job. Neither had to
be ready before Monday afternoon, so we all worked on the drive.
All four of us
humped, all morning,— no breaks,— no interruptions. I stopped us
at eleven-thirty, and called Charlene to order dinner for us. Rob
and Bill already left for town in the Ram to pick it up. While we
waited for them to come back, I finished a few more neural solderings,
and Cory brought down another four units for the outside ring.
When Rob and Bill got back, we all sat around the table in the shop and
talked farming, husbandry, crop rotations, the usual.
"What about the
futures market?" Rob asked, "You think it's a good way to
reduce risk?"
"Absolutely!"
Bill said with a vehemence that surprised me. "You've got a
pretty good handle on yields of your crops by the time the markets open
contracts in a big way. You know what crop is going in which part
of your parcel, the number of acres, low yield per acre using the
Weather Bureau's long-range weather forecasts. You sell ahead
maybe three quarters of your crop, enough to guarantee you'll break
even and make a little up on your loans, and work like hell to beat
those yields, get a little gravy."
"You wait until
your crops are in to sell, you're running the risk of selling into a
bumper crop, getting dirt-low price, not even breaking even," I
added.
"And if I don't
get the yields?"
"You die."
I said, "That's why you only sell part of your crop. In
case yields go down. Weather, blight,— you never know."
Suddenly, we ran
out of food,— even the broccoli.
"There is
another major storm approaching from the Southwest," said
Groth, "It will arrive this afternoon at four-twenty to
four-forty."
"How does that
affect us?" Bill asked.
"The seventh
ship has gathered all remaining units, and is guiding the storm towards
Katy."
"How much
surveillance is there?" I asked.
"There are
twenty vehicles using only visual techniques, three vehicles similar to
the truck we saw last night, an AWACS plane at forty-eight thousand
feet over the midpoint of a line connecting Katy and Salina, and two
reconnaissance satellites."
"What is your
current plan?"
"If possible,
move the fifth ship out and the seventh ship in as the storm passes
overhead. The atmosphere is a little too dry, and the moisture
and temperature gradients to fuel the storm are outside the norms for
the area. This may ‘raise eyebrows,’ as you say.
"Let's get back
to work," said Rob, throwing his paper waste into the garbage
bag. Cory had already done that, and was putting some things back
into the fridge.
"Groth, give us
an update on installation status," I asked. More politely
than it sounds off the screen, though.
"Including the
one hundred twenty-one units installed this morning, you have now
installed four hundred twenty-three units,— slightly more than half.
There are only eighty-five units ready for installation, at the moment,
all in the outer ring."
"Piece of
cake," Bill said.
"Let's do
it," said Cory, caressing Rob's neck. He got a quick kiss
for his efforts.
All eighty-five
were done in less than three hours.
We trooped into
the ship to refresh, and after two minutes, went into the control room
to watch the storm as it approached. It wasn't as imposing as the
one from the prior night, but it was enough to bring everyone out of
the fields, close to the storm cellars if need be. We watched it
approach from above, slowly, the seventh ship outlined in red, right
underneath the biggest thunder head, headed straight for the hangar at
maybe fifteen miles an hour.
Suddenly, there
were twenty or twenty-five red rectangles on the screen. It took
no effort to realize they were the vehicles Groth told us about.
"Are those the
ones with electronics?" Cory asked, pointing at three red
rectangles with black spots in the center.
"Yes,"
said Groth, "all are actively monitoring the areas North and East
of Katy."
"Are they all
aimed at the hangar?"
"No. One
is focused on the hangar, one on the area due North of Graham's farm,
the third on the area to the Northeast of the hangar."
"Does that mean
they don't know? That we're,— the ships— are here?"
"They know
something is or was in the Katy area. They are trying to find
evidence of it."
"Why not give
'em a dummy?" Cory pushed.
"You mean a
decoy?" I asked.
"Yeah."
"Groth?"
"We can not risk
the loss of another ship."
"Can the ships
be damaged?" I asked a little incredulously, "Do we have
anything that could penetrate the hull?"
"Functioning
cloaks can absorb the full force of a nearby atomic explosion of
greater than what you term fifty megatons."
"I hardly think
we would use thermonuclear bombs," I said strongly, "That's
unthinkable."
"The exposed
drive can be penetrated by a single bullet. Attracting attention
to the ship would be fatal to the mission. Risking discovery by
use of a decoy would increase that risk."