Back To Earth - Rutter Melanie 3 стр.

“Unbelievable!” they exclaimed in unison.

Nassiriya – Masgouf restaurant

Colonel Hudson was nervously pacing up and down the hallway in front of the main dining area of the restaurant. Virtually every minute, he checked the tactical watch he always wore on his left wrist. He didn’t even take this off to go to sleep. He was as excited as a teenager on a first date.

To help pass the time he had ordered a Martini on the rocks with a slice of lemon. The moustached barman watched him from beneath his thick eyebrows while lazily drying a set of long-stemmed glasses.

Alcohol was not permitted in Islamic countries. That evening, however, an exception had been made. The small restaurant had been completely reserved for the two of them.

As soon as he’d finished his conversation with Doctor Hunter the Colonel had contacted the owner, requesting the Masgouf house special, from which the restaurant took its name. Because of the difficulty in obtaining the main ingredient, which was tiger sturgeon, he had wanted to make sure that the establishment could provide it. Knowing that it required at least two hours of preparation, he had insisted on its being cooked unhurriedly, to absolute perfection.

As his camouflage uniform was inappropriate for the evening, he had decided to dust off his dark Valentino suit, which he combined with a silk regiment-style, grey and white striped tie. The black shoes, polished as only a soldier knew how, were also Italian. The tactical watch certainly had nothing to do with this, but he could not have done without it.

“They're on their way”. The crackling voice came from the receiver, similar to a mobile phone, which he kept in his breast pocket. He switched it off and looked out through the window.

The big, dark car swerved to avoid a crumpled bag that was suspended in the breeze and rolling lazily along the street. With a quick manoeuvre it drew up right outside the restaurant entrance. The driver allowed the dust raised by the vehicle to settle back onto the ground, then cautiously got out of the car. The “all clear” came from the headset concealed in his right ear. Carefully, he glanced at all the previously agreed positions, until he was certain that he had identified each one of his fellow soldiers who, in combat gear, would take care of the security of the two diners for the duration of the dinner.

The area was secure.

He opened the rear door and gently held out his right hand to help his passenger out.

Elisa thanked the soldier and elegantly stepped out of the car. She looked upwards as she filled her lungs with the clear evening air, pausing for an instant to contemplate the magnificent view that only the starry sky of the desert could provide.

The colonel waited for a moment, unable to decide whether to go out and meet her or stay inside and wait for her to come in. In the end he chose to remain seated, in the hope that this would make him appear less nervous. Then, with feigned indifference, he walked over to the bar, perched on a high stool and, resting his left elbow on the dark wooden surface, downed the last drop of the beverage that remained in his glass, watching as the lemon seed fell slowly to the bottom.

The door opened with a slight squeak and the military driver looked around, checking that everything was in order. The colonel gave a slight nod, and the escort showed Elisa in, inviting her to walk ahead with a generous sweep of the hand.

“Good evening, Doctor Hunter,” said the colonel, rising from his stool and displaying his best smile. “I trust that the journey was comfortable?”

“Good evening, colonel,” replied Elisa, with an equally dazzling smile. “Very nice, thank you. Your driver was very kind.”

“You can go now, thank you,” he told the driver in a voice of authority. With a military salute, the young man turned on his heels and disappeared into the night.

“Can I offer you an aperitif, professor?” asked the colonel, calling the moustached barman over with a wave of the hand.

“Whatever you’re having,” replied Elisa without hesitating, pointing to the glass of Martini that the colonel was still holding. Then, she added, “Please call me Elisa, colonel. I’d prefer it.”

“Certainly. And you can call me Jack. “Colonel” is just for my soldiers.”

This is a good start, thought the colonel.

The barman skilfully poured the second Martini and handed it to the new arrival. Lifting her glass, she clinked it with that of the colonel.

“Cheers,” she said in a lively tone, taking a sip.

“I must say you’re looking splendid this evening, Elisa,” said the colonel, running his eyes quickly up and down his guest.”

“Well, you don’t look so bad yourself. A uniform may have its charms, but I prefer you like this,” she said, smiling devilishly and tilting her head to one side.

Somewhat embarrassed, Jack turned his attention towards the contents of the glass he had in his hand. He stared at it for a while, then threw the whole lot down in one gulp.

“Shall we go to our table?”

“Good idea,” exclaimed Elisa. “I’m starving.”

“I’ve ordered the house special. I hope you’ll like it.”

“Don’t tell me you persuaded them to cook the Masgouf!” she asked, stupefied, widening her lovely green eyes as much as she could. “It’s almost impossible to find the tiger sturgeon at this time of year.”

“Only the best for a guest like yourself,” said the colonel smugly, on seeing that his choice seemed to have gone down well. He held out his right hand politely and invited her to follow him. Still wearing the mischievous smile, she let him lead her to the table.

The venue was attractively decorated in a style that was typical of the region. The lighting was warm and subdued, and the enormous curtains extending from the ceiling almost covered the walls. A large carpet with Eslimi Toranjdar designs covered virtually the entire floor, whilst other, smaller ones had been placed in the corners of the room, as if to frame the whole. Of course, according to tradition the meal should have been consumed whilst lying on the soft, comfortable cushions on the floor, but as a typical westerner the colonel had preferred a more “normal” table. Even this was carefully laid, the colours chosen for the tablecloth matching the rest of the building perfectly. Background music, in which a Darbuka

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A perfect evening.

A tall, slim waiter approached them politely, and with a bow, invited them to take a seat. The colonel let Elisa sit down first whilst he concentrated on arranging his chair, then he sat opposite her, taking care not to let his tie slide onto the plate.

“It really is very nice here,” said Elisa, looking around her.

“Thank you,” said the colonel. “I must confess I was a little worried that you wouldn’t like it. But then I remembered your passion for this area and I thought it would be the best choice.”

“You guessed correctly!” said Elisa, showing off her marvellous smile yet again.

The waiter uncorked a bottle of champagne, and whilst he was filling both goblets, another arrived, carrying a tray. “Would you like to try a Most-o-bademjun

12

The two diners looked at one another with delight. Picking up their respective glasses they toasted once again.

In a dark car approximately one hundred metres away from the restaurant, two strange people were tinkering with a sophisticated surveillance system.

“Have you seen how the colonel’s pampering that chick?” said the decidedly overweight one in the driver’s seat with a grin. He was chewing an enormous sandwich and filling his belly and trousers with crumbs.

“It was a brilliant idea, inserting a transmitter into the professor’s earring,” replied the other, much thinner one, who had large, dark eyes and was sipping coffee from a large, brownish paper cup. “We can hear everything they’re saying from here.”

“Make sure you don’t mess this up, and record everything,” scolded the other, “otherwise they’ll make us eat those earrings for breakfast.”

“Don’t worry. I’m very familiar with this equipment. We won’t even miss a whisper.”

“We have to find out exactly what it is that the lady has discovered,” added the fatter one. “The boss has invested a whole lot of money to follow this research in secret.”

“That certainly won’t be easy considering the tight security structure the colonel has put in place.” The thin man looked up at the sky as if in a dream, then added “If they gave me even a fraction of that money right now I’d be stretched out under a palm tree in Cuba, and the only thing I’d have to worry about would be whether to order a Margarita or a Pina Colada.”

“And maybe even a few girls in bikinis to smear you with sunscreen,” said the big man, who burst out laughing, making the crumbs fall off the belly that was wobbling up and down.

“This appetiser is delicious.” The professor's voice was slightly distorted by the small speaker on the panel. “I must confess I never thought there’d be such a sophisticated man hiding behind that hard, military exterior.”

“Why, thank you, Elisa. And I would never have thought that such a highly qualified academic, as well as being beautiful, could be so friendly and charming,” said the colonel, whose voice was again somewhat distorted, but slightly lower.

“Listen to them flirting,” exclaimed the big man in the driver’s seat. “I reckon they’ll end up in bed.”

“I’m not so sure,” asserted the other. “Our doctor is clearly a clever woman, and I don’t believe that dinner and a sleazy compliment like that will be enough to make her fall into his arms.”

“I’ll bet you ten dollars they do it tonight,” said the fat man, extending his right hand towards his colleague.

“Okay, you’re on,” agreed the other, shaking the large hand that had been offered.

Theos spacecraft – The mysterious object

The object that had materialised in front of the two astonished travellers was like nothing that nature could ever have created, in spite of its infinite imagination. It had the appearance of a metallic flower with three long petals and no stem, and a central, slightly conical pistil. The rear side of the pistil took the form of a hexagonal prism, the basal surface of which was slightly larger than that of the cone positioned at the opposite side, which served as a support for the whole structure. The rectangular petals branched out from the three evenly-spaced sides of the hexagon, with a length of at least four times that of the base.

“It looks like some kind of old windmill. Like the ones they used in the big eastern prairies centuries ago,” cried Petri, without removing his eyes from the object displayed on the large screen.

Azakis felt a shiver run down his spine. He was remembering some old prototypes that the Elders had suggested he study before their departure.

“It must be a space probe,” he concluded. “I’ve seen a few of these with more or less the same design in old GCS archives,” he went on, hastening to extract as much information on the matter as he could from the N^COM.

“A space probe?” asked Petri, turning towards his companion with a look of astonishment. “And when would we have launched it?”

“I don’t think it’s ours.”

“Not one of ours? What do you mean?”

“I mean that it was neither built nor launched by inhabitants of the planet Nibiru.”

Petri’s expression was becoming increasingly dazed. “What do you mean? Don’t tell me you believe this bullshit about aliens as well?”

“What I do know is that nothing like this has ever been built on our planet. I checked the GCS archives and nothing corresponds to the object we have here. Not even among the plans for projects that were never realised.”

“That's not possible!” cried Petri. “That N^COM of yours must be out of phase. Check again.”

“I’m sorry, Petri. I’ve already checked it twice and I’m absolutely certain that this isn’t our work.”

The short-range viewing system generated a three-dimensional image of the object, meticulously reconstructing every minute detail. The hologram floated in the centre of the control room, suspended half a metre above the floor.

With a movement of his right hand, Petri began to rotate it slowly, closely examining every detail.

“It would appear to be made of a low density metal alloy,” he remarked in a decidedly more technical tone than the one adopted moments before when he’d been overwhelmed with amazement. “The engines must be powered by those three petals. They seem to have been covered with some kind of light-sensitive material.” He had finally begun to fiddle with the system controls. “The pistil must be some kind of radio antenna, and the hexagonal prism is definitely the “brain” of this thing.”

Petri was moving the hologram increasingly quickly, turning it over in all directions. Suddenly he stopped, and called out “Look here. What do you think this is?” he asked, zooming in on a small area.

Azakis approached as closely as he could. “They seem to be symbols.”

“I'd say there were two symbols,” Petri corrected, “or better still, one drawing and four symbols close together.”

Azakis was still eagerly searching on the N^COM, trying to find something on the GCS. Yet there was absolutely nothing that matched the object in front of them.

The drawing represented a rectangle composed of fifteen horizontal red and white stripes. In the upper left-hand corner was another blue rectangle containing fifty white five-pointed stars. To the right of this were four symbols:

JUNO

“It seems like some kind of writing,” Azakis guessed. “Maybe the symbols represent the name of the people who made the probe.”

“Or maybe that its name,” argued Petri. “The probe is called ‘JUNO’, and that coloured rectangle is the symbol of its creators.”

“Whatever it is, it wasn’t made by us,” declared Azakis. “Do you think there could be some life form inside it?”

“I really don't think so. At least, nothing that we know. The only place where there could be something is the rear capsule, and that’s too small to accommodate a living being.”

Even as he spoke, Petri had already begun to scan the probe, looking for some sign of life inside it. After a few moments, a series of symbols appeared on the screen, and he quickly tried to translate these to his companion.

“According to our sensors there’s nothing living inside. There doesn't seem to be any kind of weapon either. From a preliminary analysis, I’d say that this thing is some kind of scout ship exploring the middle part of the solar system, in search of who knows what.”

“It could be,” agreed Azakis. “But the question we should be asking is: Sent by whom?”

“Well,” said Petri, “if we rule out the presence of mysterious aliens, I’d say that the only ones capable of constructing something like that would be your old ‘terrestrial friends’.”

“But what are you saying? The last time we left them they were still travelling on horseback. How could they have reached this stage in their development in such a short time? Sending a probe to go roaming around in space is no small feat.”

“Short time?” said Petri, looking him straight in the eyes. “Don't forget that, for them, almost 3,600 years have passed since then. Considering that their average lifespan is fifty to sixty years at the most, at least sixty generations have come and gone. Maybe they've become much more intelligent than we imagined they would.”