Saucer: The Conquest

cameras. hey were demanding the United States surrender to Artois. His promises sounded pretty good, they said. A handful of ¹ '' stars were there with the demonstrators, telling everyone watching on television that the man in the moon was a better deal than the United States Constitution.

What the heck, the president thought, I might be dead in a week. There might be a revolution, a meteor might strike the earth, Yellowstone might explode, or California might slide off into the Pacific. A whole week…

Standing outside the National Air and Space Museum on the side that faced the Mall, the northern side, Rip examined the huge glass facade. Just beyond this wall of windows were the most important treasures the museum possessed, the Wright Flyer, the Spirit of St. Louis, the Bell X-l, and the saucer Rip had found in the Sahara. Behind him Charley Pine was purchasing sunglasses, baseball caps and sweatshirts from a pushcart vendor.

She donned her sweatshirt, cap and sunglasses and offered Rip's to him. Her sweatshirt sported an American flag on the front and the Capitol dome on the back. Rip's sweatshirt had a likeness of the president on it. 'This the only one they had?' he asked.

'It was the cheapest,' Charley replied.

'If they took the reactor out of the saucer,' Rip said, 'you and I are going to spend the next ten or twenty days in the city jail.' One of the conditions Rip had put on his donation of the saucer to the museum was that the reactor be removed, rendering the saucer incapable of flight.

'You know they didn't,' Charley said. 'They don't have a place to store nuclear materials.'

The lack of adequate storage was the reason the museum had been sued by local antinuclear activists, who had obtained an injunction against removal of the reactor from the saucer.

'But if they did…' Rip said.

The sunglasses were plastic wraparound mirrors that cost three dollars a pair. With glasses on and ball caps pulled down, they joined the queue for the security checkpoints at the north entrance. There weren't a lot of tourists here today — most folks were probably huddled around a television somewhere, trying to catch the latest news — so Rip and Charley breezed through the metal detectors and soon found themselves inside the museum.

The saucer was on the main floor, with the Spirit of St. Louis hanging from the ceiling above it. They walked to the velvet rope that surrounded it. Rip could see that the hatch in the belly of the saucer was closed.

'What do you think?' he whispered to Charley, who was looking at the armed security guards. They had to get into the saucer and close the hatch before the guards could react.

'('heck to see if the reactor is there.'

Well, why not? The light from the wall of windows fell directly upon the saucer's skin; that electrical current should be enough to maintain a minimum charge on the battery.

Saucer, power up! Last year, when Rip flew the saucer, the computer memorized his brain waves. If it had enough electrical power to pick them up now…

He thought he heard a faint whine from the direction of tin' saucer, but he couldn't be sure. It would take a moment or two for the reactor temps to rise enough to begin generating electricity. In the interim, Saucer, flash the interior light.

He saw the blink inside the dark cockpit.

So did Charley, who squeezed his arm, then said, 'I think you should pull the fire alarm in the men's room while I open the hatch.'

'1 ve got a better idea. You pull the fire alarm in the women's room while /open the hatch.'

'Too late,' Charley told him. 'I suggested it. Go do it, Ripper.'

*ou sure about this?' Rip whispered to Charley. He knew it was the right thing to do, but still… 'If you thought stealing Jeanne d'Arc got them in an uproar, wait until you see what happens after we fly out of here.'

'Are you going to stand here all morning talking, or are you going to get on with it?'

The man beside Charley tapped her on the shoulder. He was in his forties and balding, wearing baggy shorts and a sweatshirt. 'Say, aren't you Charley Pine, the saucer pilot?'

'Uh—'

'Well, if that don't beat all!' the man loudly exclaimed. 'I recognized you right off. You're a mighty pretty woman, and I knew you were somebody. Matilda, come over here. There's somebody I want you to meet. Here she is, Charley Pine, the woman that swiped that spaceplane from the moon and left that idiot Frenchie high and dry.'

Everyone within earshot turned and stared at Charley.

'Are you trying to say someone really stole the Air Force's Roswell saucer out of its hangar in Area Fifty-one?' the president demanded.

'Yessir,' the aide stammered. 'That's what they said.'

'Area Fifty-one is a top secret base. How in the world did thieves get in there?'

'They drove through a gate, sir.'

The president eyed the aide without affection. Young, with a terrible haircut and baggy pants, the aide had to be the dullest of the first lady's cousins, the president thought. Then he remembered that last family picnic he attended. Perhaps not. 'Who let them through the gate?' he asked with more patience than he felt. 'Why didn't the security forces find the thieves and arrest them before they flew away?'

'I don't know the answers to those questions, sir. The Air Force and FBI are investigating, Mr. O'Reilly said.'

'So where is the saucer now?'

The aide jabbed a thumb at the ceiling. 'Up there.' When O'Reilly came in a few minutes later, the president had his feet on his desk and his chin on his chest. O'Reilly had two Secret Service types with him. O'Reilly pointed, and they began taking paintings down from the wall. The president watched morosely as each agent carried two from the room, one in each hand, and then returned for more.

The tourist had a voice like a carny barker, Charley Pine thought. Or a leather-lunged politician. A dozen people were staring at her. 'We're from Ohio,' the man brayed, 'just here visiting, you understand, staying with my brother's in-laws — they're retired from the government — and taking in some of the sights. The White House people wouldn't let us take a tour with all this craziness going on, so we came to the museum this morning. Terrorists, demonstrators, idiots on the moon, and look who we run into! If this isn't something—'

The wail of the fire alarm cut him off.

As everyone looked around for smoke or flames, Charley ducked under the velvet rope and scooted under the saucer. She put her hand on the latch to warm it, trying not to hurry.

'Hey, you, get out from under there!' The shout could be heard even above the howl of the fire alarm.

Now. The latch rotated in her hand. The hatch dropped open and Charley shot up through the hole.

Rip was right behind her. So was one of the guards.

'Sorry, pal, you didn't buy a ticket,' Rip said, and slammed fce hatch shut in his face. In seconds he had it latched.

Charley Pine was already in the pilot's seat. Through canopy she could see horrified tourists and running guards. In front of her the computer displays came vividly to life.

01 one tore off the ball cap and sunglasses she was wearing and tossed them away. The computer headband lay on the console before her; she placed it on her head. Hello, she said to the computer.

Lift us up about afoot.

She felt the motion as the computer gave the necessary commands to the flight computer and the ship responded.

Gear up!

She heard the whine as the three arms retracted into the body of the saucer, and the final thump as the gear doors slammed shut. Now she turned the saucer, pointing it at the wall of windows.

Do we have any water in the system? she asked the computer.

A graph appeared on the main screen before her. Rip had brought the saucer here a year ago with some