quelch.
“This shit is heavy, gentlemen.
I drink myself to sleep every night.”
Far out. Good for you.
You rock, king of lizards.
Chapter Twelve
Icarus
There was a small crammed space for him to sleep. It wasn’t terribly uncomfortable, but it definitely wasn’t home. He missed his bathrobe the most, and visits to Kathy’s house when her husband was ‘working’ all night long, but at least he could shower and go to sleep.
Few hours later, he was awoken by a buzzing siren.
A wake-up alarm, military grade.
The wall clock opposite the bunk-bed said it was 5am, but with no windows, you couldn't really tell.
His head was throbbing intensely and he started having mild optical hallucinations. Because his surroundings were so plain, shapes started swirling inside of them.
Soon there was no way for him to want to stay in bed with all this racket. That didn’t matter because seconds later, the tall militant bastard came in and shouted:
“Today you will see the the saucers.”
“The saucers?” echoed Frank from afar.
His clothes were clean and pressed on the foot of his bed, looking newer than ever before.
“Saucers? Don’t you have a better name?” Frank asked.
The general didn’t have to think twice about anything he said. Ever.
“I don’t give half a damn what you call them. I call them saucers. They look like plates. See? I should call them plates.”
He shot Frank a smug look of self-appreciation, snottiness and general douchebaggery.
“Follow me.” he barked.
With his bag over his shoulder, he quickly caught up to General down the hall.
He walked freakishly fast. It was only down a several hallways down that the General stopped and waited for Frank to arrive, and when he did, he turned into the room directly behind them. There, several troops accompanied them and opened the next door to a very large warehouse, both enormous and cavernous.
It was an active testing area. Glowing shapes levitated in the air. Each flying craft was a slightly different color and shape. The air was stale and smelled a lot like dirty old plane museums do.
Frank liked that smell.
It was a huge old hangar, open on one side to seemingly-endless system of giant caves.
Rows of glowing lamps came down from the matte black ceiling, lining around what appeared to be stations.
"You'll be piloting these today."
Piloting?
Until that moment Frank hadn't registered Hector's presence. But now that he had, he realized Hector is stupider than he’d ever hoped just by looking at him.
Inside, glowing balls, discs, cubes and points of lights flew about in an organized way.
It was kind of an intimidating thing to be in presence of multiple UFOs at once. Except for the discs, most of them changed shape with every movement. Along the platform below were teams of four guys in tan jumpsuits, signaling the glowing crafts to both land and depart. It was a sight to behold for a sci-fi fan.
Some of the glowing shapes made an a very quiet low-frequency hum.
“No big turrets,” the General said, “or fans, or tesla coils anywhere on their technology.
Ours is useless! Got no way of getting through to the sons of bitches. Alabaster was the only one-”
Frank had to cut in “Was!?”
“Oh you betcha!”
Both Frank and Hector felt befuddled,
and soon the General looked mad and befuddled himself.
What none of them knew was that the befuddled looks were caused by the collective hum in the air, sending them into forced confusion.
Frank broke the loud silence.
“What happened to him?”
“He died of typhus.”
Knowledge of the untimely demise of his predecessor on the base did not come as a source of comfort and left him with nothing to say out loud.
General detected his worries.
“The gray is just one name for them, but they are mind readers. No-more than that.
They transcend space and time.“
This was a strange thing to hear an old jaded military man say. They were now near the far end of the great hall
“This shit is heavy, gentlemen.
I drink myself to sleep every night.”
Far out. Good for you.
You rock, king of lizards.
Chapter Twelve
Icarus
There was a small crammed space for him to sleep. It wasn’t terribly uncomfortable, but it definitely wasn’t home. He missed his bathrobe the most, and visits to Kathy’s house when her husband was ‘working’ all night long, but at least he could shower and go to sleep.
Few hours later, he was awoken by a buzzing siren.
A wake-up alarm, military grade.
The wall clock opposite the bunk-bed said it was 5am, but with no windows, you couldn't really tell.
His head was throbbing intensely and he started having mild optical hallucinations. Because his surroundings were so plain, shapes started swirling inside of them.
Soon there was no way for him to want to stay in bed with all this racket. That didn’t matter because seconds later, the tall militant bastard came in and shouted:
“Today you will see the the saucers.”
“The saucers?” echoed Frank from afar.
His clothes were clean and pressed on the foot of his bed, looking newer than ever before.
“Saucers? Don’t you have a better name?” Frank asked.
The general didn’t have to think twice about anything he said. Ever.
“I don’t give half a damn what you call them. I call them saucers. They look like plates. See? I should call them plates.”
He shot Frank a smug look of self-appreciation, snottiness and general douchebaggery.
“Follow me.” he barked.
With his bag over his shoulder, he quickly caught up to General down the hall.
He walked freakishly fast. It was only down a several hallways down that the General stopped and waited for Frank to arrive, and when he did, he turned into the room directly behind them. There, several troops accompanied them and opened the next door to a very large warehouse, both enormous and cavernous.
It was an active testing area. Glowing shapes levitated in the air. Each flying craft was a slightly different color and shape. The air was stale and smelled a lot like dirty old plane museums do.
Frank liked that smell.
It was a huge old hangar, open on one side to seemingly-endless system of giant caves.
Rows of glowing lamps came down from the matte black ceiling, lining around what appeared to be stations.
"You'll be piloting these today."
Piloting?
Until that moment Frank hadn't registered Hector's presence. But now that he had, he realized Hector is stupider than he’d ever hoped just by looking at him.
Inside, glowing balls, discs, cubes and points of lights flew about in an organized way.
It was kind of an intimidating thing to be in presence of multiple UFOs at once. Except for the discs, most of them changed shape with every movement. Along the platform below were teams of four guys in tan jumpsuits, signaling the glowing crafts to both land and depart. It was a sight to behold for a sci-fi fan.
Some of the glowing shapes made an a very quiet low-frequency hum.
“No big turrets,” the General said, “or fans, or tesla coils anywhere on their technology.
Ours is useless! Got no way of getting through to the sons of bitches. Alabaster was the only one-”
Frank had to cut in “Was!?”
“Oh you betcha!”
Both Frank and Hector felt befuddled,
and soon the General looked mad and befuddled himself.
What none of them knew was that the befuddled looks were caused by the collective hum in the air, sending them into forced confusion.
Frank broke the loud silence.
“What happened to him?”
“He died of typhus.”
Knowledge of the untimely demise of his predecessor on the base did not come as a source of comfort and left him with nothing to say out loud.
General detected his worries.
“The gray is just one name for them, but they are mind readers. No-more than that.
They transcend space and time.“
This was a strange thing to hear an old jaded military man say. They were now near the far end of the great hall
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