Illegal Alien

The intercom whistled. The captain picked up the hand unit. "Raintree here."

"Sir," said a husky voice, "the Russian sub has radioed us, asking that we send a helicopter to bring three observers over here immediately, sir."

The captain looked at Frank, who frowned. "Christ, I don’t want—"

Clete interrupted. "Now, Frankie, they chose international waters. You can’t really—"

"No, no, I suppose not. Okay, Captain."

"Take care of it, Mr. Coltrane," said the captain, and he replaced the hand unit in its clip.

"I want video equipment set up on the flight deck," said Frank. "I want everything recorded."

The captain nodded, and spoke into the intercom again.

"Let’s get down there," said Clete.

Captain Raintree, Frank, and Clete went back down the circular staircase they’d gone up earlier, and emerged from the same door at the base of the conning tower, exiting onto the flight deck. There wasn’t much wind, and the sky was mostly clear. The lander was still in the process of lowering itself.

"Damn," said the captain.

"What’s wrong?" asked Frank, over the roar of the lander’s exhaust.

"It’s setting down in the middle of the runway. No way we can launch a fighter with it there."

Frank shrugged. "It’s the biggest clear area."

In the distance, another Navy Seahawk was now hovering over the conning tower of the Russian sub. A rope ladder had been lowered, and a man was climbing up into the chopper.

Captain Raintree looked at Frank. "We do have recorded music, sir. We could play the national anthem."

"Is there a United Nations anthem?" asked Frank.

"Not as far as I know, sir," said the captain.

"Anybody got the theme from Star Trek on tape?" said Clete.

The captain looked at him.

Clete shrugged. "Just a thought."

"I could assemble an honor guard," said the captain.

"With rifles?" said Frank. "Not on your life."

The lander came to rest. Frank could feel vibration in the deck plates beneath his feet as it clanged against them.

"Shall we go have a look?" said Clete.

"Sir," said the captain, "the lander could be radioactive. I suggest you let one of my people check it over with a Geiger counter first."

Frank nodded. The captain used the intercom again to give the order.

"Do you suppose they’re going to come outside?" asked Clete.

Frank lifted his shoulders. "I don’t know. They may be incapable of coming outside — even if they have space suits, the gravity may be too high for them to move around."

"Then why land on the Kitty Hawk at all?"

"Maybe they were just getting seasick being tossed on the ocean."

The helicopter was now leaving the Russian sub and heading back toward the Kitty Hawk.

Clete pointed at the gray-green markings on the ship’s dark green hull.

They were complex, consisting of a horizontal line with various spirals and curves descending from it. No way to tell if the whole thing was one character, or if it was meant to be a word, or just abstract art.

A sailor appeared next to the captain, holding a Geiger counter. The captain nodded for him to proceed. The man looked nervous, but headed out across the flight deck toward the lander.

"Captain," said Frank, "can you sail this ship to New York?"

"Want to take ’em to see Cats?" said Clete.

Frank frowned. "To the United Nations, of course."

The captain nodded. "Sure, we can go anywhere."

The helicopter landed. Two Russian men and a Russian woman disembarked, along with the copter pilot. They came over to the American captain.

"Sergei Korolov," said the Russian, a thickset man in his thirties. He saluted. "I’m— first officer, you’d call it, on the Suvorov." He nodded to the woman. "Our doctor, Valentina Danilova, and our radio officer, Piotr Pushkin. Neither of them speaks English."

"Great," muttered Frank. "I’m Frank Nobilio, science advisor to the president of the United States. This is Cletus Calhoun, astronomer, and Captain Raintree."

"I point out," said Korolov, "that the lander only settled on your ship because it was not possible to settle on our submarine. But under international salvage laws, the lander is clearly ours — we got to it first."

Frank sighed. "It’s not our intention to steal the lander, Mr. Korolov. In fact, I want to take it to the United Nations in New York."

"I will have to consult with my captain, and she will have to consult with Moscow," said Korolov. "It is not—"

The man with the Geiger counter returned. "It’s clean, sir. Just normal background radiation."

"Very good," said Captain Raintree. "Do you want to go have a closer look, Dr. Nobilio?"

"By all means. Let’s— my God."

A portion of the curving wall of the lander was sliding up. The hatch had been completely invisible when closed, but the opening was obvious. Inside was a gray-walled chamber — an air lock, in all likelihood. And standing in the middle of the chamber was a figure.

A figure that was not human.

"Damn," said Captain Raintree, under his breath. "Sir, if that thing is carrying alien germs, we’ll have to, er, sterilize this ship."