Roswell
From Torg Adventure
Mac Brazel's horse walked through the scrub along the fence row. The dry heat of July in New Mexico was temporarily replaced with some humidity after the previous night's downpour. The scrub and thin grass was a greener shade of olive drab. During the storm, Mac and his wife had heard something very loud that wasn't thunder. The curtains in the living room had lit up after the noise. Mac didn't think much of it until he remembered that lightning comes before the thunder. In the morning he left after breakfast with his son, Vernon, to check it out. Maybe it was a plane.
The seven year old rode his pony acting the big boy. Mac turned back the way they were headed as they went over a rise and he reined in his horse suddenly, making her nicker. An area of chaparral near the fence was squashed flat and scorched, and the fence was broken through. A furrow in the ground led into the ranch. Mac followed the groove in the dirt and saw something bright in the sun up ahead. He broke into a trot and headed toward it. Vernon was just two steps behind.
Coming around a grove of manzanita, he stopped short, eyes wide. A large silvery disc, like two 40-foot pie pans on top of each other, rested on the ground. For a second, near the disc, he thought he saw two short grey critters, no taller than Vernon, with disproportionately large heads for their bodies, long arms, and no clothes. His eyes must have played tricks on him, for when they turned toward him, they were normal adult height and wore grey flannel suits.
"Hello, friend," one of the men said in that non-accent that radio announcers have. He had thin dark hair and looked a bit like Jack Benny.
"We wondered if perhaps you could help us," the other one said. This one had thick dark hair and reminded Mac of Gregory Peck. They both smiled widely, showing perfect teeth. Their voices were smooth and soothing, putting him at ease.
"Hello, strangers. What you doing in these parts?" Mac replied. Though Mac was confused by the situation, his mother had instilled a deep sense of responsibility to help those in need.
Jack Benny answered, "We had a little trouble in the storm last night and our vehicle was struck by a static electrical discharge. We had to stop here to make repairs, which we have completed. The only thing we need is ..." He turned to his companion and asked, "What are the units of volume again?"
"Cubic meters."
"The only thing we need is two cubic meters of dihydrogen monoxide," he said to Mac with a grin.
"Water," Gregory Peck corrected.
"Of water. We are willing to pay you for it."
"I don't reckon I know what a cubic meter is, but there's no ponds or streams for miles. I've a water tank back at the ranch house and you're welcome to have what you need. I'm just not sure how to get it up here. I don't have a proper wagon for water."
"We searched the vicinity and have confirmed your statement about the lack of water," Gregory Peck said.
"We can transport the liquid, if you can navigate us to it," Jack Benny added.
"Well, I'm happy to oblige. My name is Mac," he said, extending his hand to shake.
Neither of the strangers offered their hand, but Jack Benny said, "I am called ... Arthur, and this is my friend ... Robert. We are very pleased to make your acquaintance."
"This is my son, Vernon."
"We are pleased to meet you, Vernon," Robert said.
"Hi!" the boy replied.
"I will get a smaller vehicle to carry the water. I will be back out in a short period of minutes," Arthur said. He walked to the disc and a gangway opened. He entered the disc.
"So, Mac, what do you do here in this very dry biome?" Robert asked, trying to make small talk.
"Well, I'm the foreman on this here cattle ranch, Robert. We raise cattle and then sell them for slaughter. Why are you folks here in the desert? You seem a mite parcel away from Los Angeles or New York, or wherever you come from."
"We are what you might call traveling salesmen, Mac. We are currently on a buying trip to find new things to sell to our customers." Mac got the idea that this made Robert happy. He seemed to get excited and his eyes lit up a bit.
Arthur came out of the disc riding what looked like a Jeep, pulling a four-foot long cylindrical tank behind it. The vehicle had four wheels, but it didn't seem to touch the ground. The only sound that it made was a high-pitched whine. Robert got in next to Trent.
They headed toward the ranch house, Vernon riding next to Mac with the Jeep pulling up the rear.
About an hour later, they arrived at the corral near the ranch house. Mac led the strangers to the tank and the watering trough. He and Vernon dismounted and tied up their horses, who dipped their head down to drink from the trough.
"Here's the water. You're welcome to fill your tank after the horses finish their drinks. Can I get you something to drink while we wait? I usually don't drink whiskey this early, but I also don't have guests often."
Robert said, "We appreciate your hospitality, but unfortunately we are allergic to many of your foods and beverages, especially whiskey. Arthur swelled up like a Sirian the last time."
Mac replied, "Oh, I get it. I get that way with my mother-in-law's cooking."
The horses stopped drinking and Vernon untied them. He led them to the corral.
Arthur unhooked a two inch hose from the tank behind the Jeep. He put it in the water and pressed a button on the nozzle. A loud whirring came from the tank, and over the next three minutes, the hose drained the water trough dry. Mac pulled on the sluice for the large elevated water tank, bringing it to the edge of the water trough. Then he pulled the release and water poured into the trough, filling it.
"Here, friend. I think these will compensate you adequately for your trouble," Arthur said, extending his hand to Mac. Mac's eyes went wide when Arthur opened his hand to reveal five golden coins the size of silver dollars. They had something that looked like the sun and planets on one side and a single eye on the other side. Mac took one and bit it, feeling the softness of the metal between his teeth and knowing it was real. Arthur dropped the coins into Mac's hand without touching him. Mac took the coins and put them in his vest.
"This certainly be a good price for my time, fellas," he said, grinning for the first time in the encounter.
"One more thing, friend. We seem to be lost. Could you direct us to your seat of government?" Robert said.
"Well, the mayor in Roswell is the closest thing to government we got, but I think you mean Sante Fe or maybe even Washington D.C. You mean to go to the state or the feds?"
"Well, the world if possible. Is there a world government?" Arthur asked.
"Well, there was the League of Nations, but that got replaced after the big war a couple years ago. The United Nations is more of a gentlemen's social club than a government. They like to argue. I'd say go to Washington D.C. They at least won the big war. Washington's out east a couple thousand miles. Just go straight east till you hit the ocean and then north. Where there's a lot of hot air, you'll find Washington." Mac chuckled at his own joke.
"Well, thank you very much, my friend. Your help was greatly appreciated. We can find our vehicle without further assistance," Robert said.
The two got into their Jeep and drove away. Once they were over the first rise, Mac turned to Vernon and said, "They were right odd."
"They sure were Pa, but they seemed mighty nice."
"Okay, let's start looking for some trees to cut. That fence needs some fixin'." The man and his son got to work.
As the rancher disappeared behind the terrain, Robert said emphatically, "You gave him five zantars?! Where is he going to spend five zantars?! They're only made from artificial gold, so they're worthless!"
"The scientists on this backwater world can't tell the difference between real gold and artificial gold. And I really wanted to help the guy out. Now let's get this fuel back to the ship so we can make repairs and get on with our mission," Arthur said.
"Well, okay, but next time I get to drive."
Secret Service Uniformed Division Lieutenant Nelson Bohr walked the perimeter of the dark South Lawn of the White House. The night was moonless and still. It had been a long time since anything happened on this part of the Presidential detail, which made Bohr happy. He would much rather have an uneventful day than one where stuff happened. 'Stuff' for him was usually dangerous.
The wind picked up for a minute and Bohr saw a dark object blot out one of the street lamps on West Executive Avenue. He immediately pulled his service revolver and moved toward the open expanse where the shadow seemed headed.
