An Error in Time

An Error In Time

The spacecraft emerged vibrating from Hypervoid, silent in the air above Sedata, Arizona one rosy dawn in summer, 2065 A.D. to return abductees taken for study. It materialized, disguised as a cloud, above Clang Rock--a bell-shaped formation now called a VorTax since tourists paid top dollar to climb it and experience ultimate connection.

The disc-shaped craft then hovered west toward Church Butte, another VorTax levied by the town. Commuters on the 12-lane freeway into town beside Clang Rock drove on in ignorance. Air Park Mesa was soon below where thousands of private Jet-cars were just catching the sun's first rays. Out to the west in full light, the monorail was already filled with incoming one-day tourists and outgoing commuters. The sleek route snaked down Okay Creek to North-Phoebes, the city which filled the Verdant Valley and spanned for three hundred kilometers southward, where it filled the desert like an ocean of population with its edges cramming up against the crags that stuck up like islands all around.

Aboard the hyper-stellar craft, the travelers were in heated debate over where to deposit the returnees, swiped previously from a road into Sedata. A routine function, all abductees--according to the contract with the Secret Earth Leaders--were to be returned unharmed after evaluation to exact point of origin.

"Are you sure this is the place?" The pilot asked the navigator, who raised his domed head, causing his hundreds of facets to reflect the purple and green glow from the Navi-timegator display screen overhead. Commander Voode, from her monitoring stance, peered at the display above the pilot and navigator, curious of the uncertainty.

"Of course!” The navigator replied, “See--it's all the same red rocks, though it looks busier than before." He gestured his long, graceful fingers toward the wide view of the landscape below. Commander Voode ambled over for a closer inspection, her tail swishing in agitation over what she suspected was incompetence under her normally prestigious command. Coming from a long line of Explorers who had established a mighty presence in Galactic Central Order by having expanded the Realm into this Sector to help bring this tiny planet into Galactic Citizenry, she demanded only the best from her command—normally, that is. Now, however, this operation had cost more in time than any previous one and they were very behind for the Sector Review Council, not to mention her vacation! The display revealed her suspicion. She whirled around to face her errant crewmembers, the color of her translucent, multi-faceted head turning a hue tinged red in irritation.

"Fool," the Commander snapped, her bulbous eyes pulsating in derision. "You misread the Navi-Timegator again. It was their year 1965, idiot! Now it's one hundred of their years later!"

"Oops, you're right. Shall we return to Hypervoid for adjustment?" The navigator, fearing reprisal and shame, reached for the settings, trying to mask his yellowing hue of embarrassment to little avail. An advanced evolution of their peculiar species, it was sometimes an annoyance that their particular emotions were always displayed as a hue of color tinting the translucent depth of the skin of their heads.

Commander Voode considered a moment, aware that breaking rules of Protocol could be serious, but her urgency and her own sense of authority based upon her lineage made her a bit daring in the circumstances. "No! Just dump them. Nobody will know the difference. It can’t be all that different. We have to get to Vamos 4, pronto. At least, they're back." The Commander jabbed the Return button, activating the Transport Ray. Then, with a flip of her dainty tail, she strode elegantly over to her Commander’s nodule.

John and Martha Fixion, along with their children Sally and Randy, sat in suspended animation inside their brand new 1965 Ford Fairlane station wagon. It was packed with camping and fishing gear for their planned outing along Okay Creek--known for its pure water and abundant trout. Having erased memories, the Fixions were oblivious of their predicament.

Now, due to a bumbling error, the Fixion's nightmare was worsening. The navigator's only correct data was in having found the exact spot to return their hapless abductees. The Fixions in their car gently materialized at the former campground along Okay Creek not far from quaint shops in the uptown district of Sedata. Now, however, the creek was gone, covered by concrete and buildings except for a groomed and heavily filtered section near the historic Art District where the vile water was open and running for tourist benefit. There were no more trout--only silicon replicas programmed to snap at electronic beacon-bait for anyone who paid to "sportfish".

Having dropped their "guests", the craft flitted off with a whoosh, passing scant meters from the “Perk Pot” revolving restaurant atop Percolator Rock. Gone into Hypervoid, only wisps of cloud twirled toward the glass elevator up the sheer face of the rock. Sedatans inside, ascending to breakfast, gasped and added another UFO tale to local legend. One, a woman with deep brown hair, stared after the wispy trail of the flash of light and made a mental note of the time and place. The other, a narrow-framed man wearing thick, tortoise-shell glasses, hastily scrawled some actual notes into a small pad from his breast pocket, just as the elevator reached the restaurant at the top.

Awaking to a harsh new reality, Martha, a proud woman with jet-black hair and ashen-white looks modeled in style after the former First Lady, Jacqueline Kennedy, and who normally, could handle just about anything, fainted upon the realization of a vast difference to their favorite vacation spot. John Fixion, a top Salesman for the Sears-Roebuck company who was normally always in control and oblivious to nearly everything else, peed his trousers spying the twenty-story office tower shaped and colored like a red rock pinnacle in a ten- acre parking lot where the creek should have been. Teenaged Sally scrunched up her normally cute face and made a flip comment about being in a "twilight zone." Little Randy clutched his tiny, toy astronaut, peered out the window at something flying overhead and said "Neat-o."

Even with two freeways and a monorail, Sedata's roads were always congested. As prosperous as it was, Sedata's workers had been forced away long ago, and only the richest tourists with timeshares could afford the thousand dollar per night minimum for the resorts. “Cheap” motels were several hundred dollars, and none existed closer than twenty miles.

The Fixions knew none of that, and were, for the time being, simply in shock. Fifty years had altered a region dramatically. Still, whether arriving by misguided alien spacecraft or by more conventional methods, Sedata welcomes all comers with money to spend on various amenities. Come one, come all. Destiny awaits.

Horsepower

Laughing Wolf sat astride his auburn mare on the overlook above the swirled Schnebley Hill formation, approaching Sedata, AZ from the rim forest. He stroked his bearded chin in contemplation. Although white, he'd adopted Native American ways and a new name, having vowed to leave the corporate world and live in the forest. It had been nineteen years since he'd been to Sedata. He'd left in 2036. It had been difficult until an old prospector named Hadley had given him space for his lodge. Hadley, too was a hermit, was lonely and Laughing Wolf had usually done his few town errands and got supplies. Now, Hadley was gone.

Laughing Wolf ran his weathered fingers across his hair that hung in a heavy braid on his back, a deeper hue than that of his horse Desert Dancer. He gazed at Hadley's brown paper package slung in the string bag against Desert Dancer's sweat-streaked flank. Sedata was a maze of office towers like red rock pinnacles and now had a monorail slithering off toward the Verdant Valley and that confounded city –Phoebes that had risen like a fog to envelop nearly the entire southern half of the state. The smog was thick above the view.

How strange, he thought, to be going to the old Post Office after so long. Hadley's last wish was to send the box to the address he'd written down. He'd buried Hadley, and he owed his benefactor a big favor. Laughing Wolf nudged his horse onto the dirt road and began the descent. He passed thirty-four cars and pick-ups, and twenty-nine, brightly colored jeeps filled with tourists who gaped, pointed and snapped photos of him before he arrived at the valley floor covered with a fine smear of reddish-orange dust. Both his waist-length beard and his hand-made clothing cut from skins of fox, deer and elk had elicited many derogatory comments from passing vehicles.

Heedless of property and angry curses of landowners, he trekked down a wash where he should have crossed the now covered, Okay creek and started through the manicured green expanse of a lush resort, that ran a length of man-made creek with recycled water and a waterfall where the real creek should have been. "Too many people here, now, Desert Dancer, old girl," he soothed, patting her corded neck. "They've hid the creek and there's no room to ride."

"Excuse me. You're trespassing, mister. You can't ride here," said a man in a golf cart wearing a security badge. Laughing Wolf ignored him, kept on leading his horse around bubbling pools. The cart moved to block him. "I said to get out! Can't you hear, old man? This is private property!"

"Ain't that old...But I knew the great, great grandson of a family who raised crops here," Laughing Wolf said, keeping his eyes straight ahead as he wound past the cart and slanted up the steep hill to the road. In moments, he was clip-clopping on highway asphalt. The frightened horse reared at the darting traffic that swerved at his appearance, causing two minor accidents. He gripped the reins and crossed the road with Desert Dancer leaving grassy-green signs of her distress in clumps on the road. Honking, shouts, lights and sirens all failed to daunt him as Laughing Wolf neared the Post Office. Traffic was in a colossal jam trying to turn into the lot from the road, and had backed up the hill. It was all that Laughing Wolf could do to keep Desert Dancer calm.

"Easy girl. Almost there...Good thing we don't drive, eh?" The horse snorted and stomped as though in agreement. They went between two sleek cars to the flagpole, where he dismounted and proceeded to secure Desert Dancer to the pole. Onlookers had begun to gather around. A police car pulled in, lights flashing, and parked. A young officer approached, wary, hand on his holstered gun. Laughing Wolf also wore a gun, as was the law in Arizona, as he remembered it.

"Excuse me, sir. May I see some I.D.?" The voice was high-pitched--nervous. Laughing Wolf turned around slowly.

"I gave up all identification with everything years ago."

"Then I'm going to have to issue a citation for trespassing, disturbing the peace, leaving the scene of an accident, unlawful possession of a firearm, failure to observe right of way, operation of a horse inside city limits without a permit and leaving manure in the--" Laughing Wolf cut him off.

"Son--did you just say unlawful operation of a horse?"

"Yes sir. Your identification, please."

"If you're going to arrest me, at least let me mail my package for old Hadley."

"I'll have to inspect that. Move away from the horse, sir." The officer had opened the holster flap, his voice edgy. The crowd had thickened at the spectacle.

"You don't get it, do you son? I've got to mail this package. Then I'll be glad to leave." The honking and hustle had stilled as the crowd looked on.

"Let him mail his package!" Someone yelled.

"Leave the old guy alone," said another. "He ain't done nothing!" Murmurs rippled among concerned faces. The crowd began edging around the cop, hemming him in a semicircle of malcontent.

"Do you need help, mister? I'll help you," declared a lovely woman with a stout frame, in jeans and a flannel jacket, also holding a package. The officer seemed to be backing down, as he glanced around at the potentially angry crowd.

Laughing Wolf regarded the supportive crowd and the woman. She was the proudest, most beautiful--in fact, about the only--woman he'd seen in twenty years. Her hair was thick and long, the color of mahogany wood, and her eyes shone with fire and sparks. She couldn't be past fifty--only a few years younger than himself. He decided to continue. If there was going to be a fight and a fine or two, well, Hadley had left him plenty to pay with. He was certain, feeling the bulge in his pocket. He nodded at the woman and followed her into the lobby as the crowd parted, cheering. It was 4:58 P.M. and the clerk was already preparing to lock the inside door.

"Oh no you don't!" The woman shoved hard, forcing the door back open. "We're going to mail our packages, now."

"We're closed, I can't let you in," the irate clerk whined.

"You take this and send it right here, you understand?" Laughing Wolf thumped the package with his forefinger directly on the address. "I've come a long way." The clerk scowled and let them pass. Cheers resounded in the lobby and outside, as the cop shook his head and appeased the crowd.

After weighing the box, the counter clerk said the price, glancing up. "That will be seventy dollars."

Laughing Wolf scratched his chin, reaching into the bulging pocket. "Well here...That ought to do it." He placed a gold nugget the size of a grape on the counter. Clerks, patrons and the woman all raised eyebrows in sudden interest.

"Uh, sir. That appears to be gold. We can only accept palm scans, credit/debit cards, cash, or a check or money order with proper I.D."

"Just add it on to mine," the woman said, offering her card and admiring Laughing Wolf with new interest. "I'm sure he'll pay me back."

"I'll see to it, mam." Laughing Wolf agreed. "I'm obliged to you for shoving that door open."

"I'm a real shoves-hard sort of woman," she joked, "so you'd better pay me back." Her smile was inviting.

Outside, Laughing Wolf went to Desert Dancer, the woman convinced the officer into leaving, and the crowd dispersed. She came to him. "Do you always pay in nuggets?" She swept her hands through her hair and looked at him curiously.

"Never have had to before, but I guess I will now that Hadley's gone. Guess I'll have to drag all them sacks out of the hole and use 'em."

"Sacks? Hole, did you say?"

Just then, a perfectly restored Ford Fairlane from the middle of the previous century roared into the parking lot and screeched to a halt. Inside, a little boy gawked, stuck out his tongue and plastered his face to the side window at him. The puffy-faced man driving, dressed in outdated clothing, rolled down his window and stuck his arm out.

"Mighty fine looking horse, mister. You and it are the first normal looking thing we've seen all day."

A Midsummer's Day Dream

"Is that so," Laughing Wolf said, nodding his head admiring the mint condition, classic car. He scratched his heavy beard. "It's nice to be thought normal, and that's a dern sight better than what they done to this town!"

"I'll say," declared the sporty looking man, his arm out the window exposing his hairy forearm with his shirtsleeves rolled up. "Why, we--"he nodded to his family--"Martha and the kids--were just here the summer before last and there was hardly nothing here!"

"Don't know 'bout that...That's a nice car, though. Restoring it must have been an arm and two legs."

"Restoration?" The man's expression was incredulous. "Mister--it's brand new! Just got a raise last month for breaking all the sales records in five states!"

"Excuse me--"said the woman who had helped Laughing Wolf, "but could you tell me when that was?" She tipped her head as she peered into the car. Her long hair hung down luxuriously.

"Well now," Laughing Wolf said, admiring the woman's hair, "he just said it was last month."

"No--the summer before last--he just said there was nothing here." She turned back to the family in the outdated car all wearing what appeared to be period costume. Then she smiled. "Oh, I get it...Is there a movie in town? Or, maybe a commercial, right? Some product about nostalgia?"

"I don't know about nostalgia, commercials or movies," the man said. "Only that this town seems all wrong! Why, I can't even find the creek!"

"I know about movies," said the girl, leaning over the boy and sticking her face out the window. "Movies are the neatest thing. I saw Goldfinger! James Bond is the greatest! He's sooo cute! And I just love his deep voice”.

"Really?..."The woman who had helped Laughing Wolf looked puzzled, pursing her lips before continuing, and turned back to the family in the antique car, "I know this may sound strange, but, can you tell me what year it is?"

At this request, the girl in the backseat scrambled again across the boy, pressing him down as she stuck her pimpled face out.

"Where've YOU been? Haven't you heard about The Beach Boys? The Beatles? Herman's Hermits? They're SO faaaabulous and--" The boy cut her off.

"Ouch! Get off me, Sally...I know. I know it!--I'm Randy and this is my yucky sister,” Randy said excitedly, “I know what year it is. It's 1965 and we're going camping, 'cept we can't find it 'cause Daddy's lost. Hey, what's your name, lady? You're pretty! An' this is my Mom an' Dad. An—wow, neat horse, mister. Is that--"

"Children, that's enough!" Their father reprimanded. "These nice people don't want to hear about a bunch of flop-headed, English freaks and rattle-mouthed little boys!" He smiled nervously back at the woman. "Sorry. Kids seem to tell it like it is...I'm John Fixion." He extended his hairy arm.

"Star Trina, Mr. Fixion," the woman said. "How unlikely that we should meet." She turned and cast a curious glance skyward.

"Oh? How's that? That your husband there with the horse?"

"No--we just met a short time ago here at the post office. He was being harassed when all he wanted was to--"

"I'm Laughing Wolf," the mountain man called out from beside his horse. "I had to mail a package but I guess the local law hasn't seen a horse in a while judging by that cop's reaction to Desert Dancer, here." He patted the horse's flank. "By the way, I ain't been around too many cars of late, and I don't reckon I understand it, but I thought that car looked kind of too good."

"Mr. Fixion--" Star Trina began. "How did you get here?"

"Well, like always. We drove out from Davenport--that's in Iowa--and got to looking around, and then it was like we woke up and everything was plumb crazy! Doesn't make a bit of sense!"

"I can relate to that," Laughing Wolf admitted with a wry chuckle as he stroked Desert Dancer's mane. The horse pawed and snorted in the momentary silence that followed.

"Mr. Fixion," Star Trina said pleasantly, "How would you and your family like to come camp at my ranch--you, too Mr. Laughing Wolf," she added. "I've got open creek and it's the nearest place to town that hasn't changed much in the past sixty or seventy years."

"Can we, Daddy, huh, can we? Can we go there, please? I wanna go swimming. We won't be lost anymore." The boy jumped up and down in his seat, excited. The man's wife put a restraining arm on the boy.

"Why, that's mighty kind of you Miss Star." He turned and spoke to his wife who still sat, appearing as though in mild shock as she attempted to quiet the boy's enthusiasm. Laughing Wolf pulled Star Trina aside and spoke quietly.

"I'm obliged, too. My horse could use the water and rest...Well now, if you're thinkin' what I'm thinkin', then something mighty strange is going on” He lowered his voice and leaned closer to Star Trina. “You think we ought to tell 'em? But I can't figure how in the heck it's possible!"

"Shh! I do. I think it's happened before. One of my friends is researching things like this for a book. I heard about a story from way before my birth--something about a family reported missing. Everybody thought they were murdered and drowned with no trace. The older kids told it when I was a girl and we were camping out around a campfire once. It was a scary story, then...Listen, this morning, I was ascending the elevator up Percolator Rock for breakfast at the Perk Pot when I saw something in the sky that just may explain everything!"

"Oh yeah? How?" Laughing Wolf leaned closer, inhaling her scent of vanilla and roses.

"I'll tell you later, but none have been reported for years and I thought it was because of what happened to this town!"

Pursued

Star Trina zipped her '47 Vintage Chevy Pick-Up out of the tunnel beneath AirPark Mesa, past the Monorail Port, and raced onto the Clang Rock freeway. Laughing Wolf, beside her, gripped the dash and swung the visor down against the afternoon sun on his face.

"Forgot what it was like in a truck," he declared.

"It still works, anyhow." Star Trina gripped the wheel as they sped toward Okay Creek Village beyond Clang Rock--the bell-shaped butte sought by tourists.

"Much obliged for the pasture for my horse. Your place looks a dern sight more normal than this city." Laughing Wolf studied her. "Think that crazy family in the vintage car will be all right there?"

"If we're lucky, maybe Jim Danga can help. I gave them enough tranquillizer to knock 'em out for a day or two." Star Trina gazed in the rearview mirror, concern on her face as she shifted lanes. "I thought they were actors in some commercial putting me on until that girl cracked that comment about President Johnson and Viet Nam!"

"Yeah, mighty strange," Laughing Wolf agreed. "How do you reckon they got here?" Laughing Wolf stared at Clang Rock just ahead to the left.

"I saw a UFO early this morning. And then, that family shows up. I think they're connected--especially now." She looked again in the rearview.

"So...folks've been seeing UFO's in Sedata for over a hundred years. See 'em myself up in the woods back of Sacred Mountain...Uh, why are you speeding up past the Okay Village Plaza? Doesn't your friend live there?"

"We're being followed. See that sinister black car behind us?" Laughing Wolf twisted around.

"That car with the red and blue markings and dark windows?"

"Yes. It's N.W.S. I can't lead them to Jim--he's a resistance operative."

"Resistance to what? And what the toot is N.W.S.?"

"New World security force. They're in cahoots with aliens, or at least, that’s the prevailing view. We're fighting for our right to exist without debt!" Star Trina exited onto Okay Crossing freeway to Sedata West that led past Verdant Valley University to the once scenic crossing, now a polluted pit.

"Where to, then?" Laughing Wolf glanced uneasily back. The

car still followed. "You in the movement?"

"I don't know." Her glance affirmed the other question.

"Well, if you get us up onto that Air Park Mesa, we can go to Sana Free. Be there inside of an hour, I reckon."

"But that's in New Mexico!" Star Trina swerved suddenly. "What are we going to do--steal somebody's Jet Car?"

"Not exactly. I've got a key and instructions to one. Old Hadley--that's whose package I was mailing--was a lucky prospector. He willed it to me along with the rest of his possessions before he died."

"Omigosh! You've got a fricking Jet Car?...Why go to Sana Free?" Star Trina sought the exit up the backside of Air Park Mesa and swerved onto it at the last second. The ominous black car flashed by, too late for the sudden turn.

"I, uh, have some friends there who can help."

Flight of Fancy

The truck lurched up the incline to the top of Air Park Mesa. Unknown to them, a pile of tarps in the back began to move, and a small hand swept back the edge of the tarp. Little Randy Fixion stuck out his head and grinned.

Star Trina drove out onto the tarmac of the Jet Car Port, slowing as Laughing Wolf pulled out an envelope from inside his elk skin shirt, opened it and read as he scanned the acres of sleek Jet Cars parked in their spaces.

“Row M Space 10.” Laughing Wolf peered down the rows of vehicles, noting their rocket-like appearance that was a cross between a mini-sub and an airplane. “Last time I drove a car was in “96”. I don’t reckon I can drive one of these – even with these instructions.”

“Don’t worry. If you’ve got a key to one of these, I can drive. My dad has one.” Star Trina pulled into Row M and quickly found Space 10. She drove into the car parking spot beside the shiny Jet Car in Row M, Space 10, and stared at the craft. It glistened with iridescence as the sun reflected off its alu-plastitanium skin, colored a brilliant blue. Its short wings, extended during flight, swept back along its fuselage, which was only five feet longer than the pickup truck.

“Fifteen years can make a whole lot of change. You really know how to pilot this?”

“It’s quite easy actually,” Star Trina replied, locking the truck. “It’s all computer controlled – very hi-tech. Let’s just hope it has fully charged hydrogen fuel cells.”

“Hydrogen? Ought a make it clean, I reckon.” Laughing Wolf went to the door and slid in the key. The door hummed and swung outward, becoming a small ramp.

Star Trina walked around to the opposite side of the craft. “Could you give me a hand, Wolf? This tiedown cable is jammed.”

Laughing Wolf complied and went to help. Just then, Randy Fixion, his eyes wide with glee tinted with an ample gleam of mischief, leaped out of the truck and dashed into the craft, quickly hiding behind the rear seats.

“Okay, it’s ready to fly.” Star Trina and laughing Wolf returned and took a last look at the fleet of parked craft before climbing in.

Inside, the craft was pure luxury. “Mighty nice. I haven’t seen anything like it, but it reminds me of an RV.”

“It’s much better. Sit here, I’ll show you.” Star Trina beckoned him to sit beside her as she inserted the key. Laughing Wolf settled into the plush leather as the console lighted up, flashing and beeping.

“What’s it doing now?”

“Communicating with the tower about our flight plan. When that light right there is green,” she pointed her slim finger within an inch of the display, “we secure our restraints for the vertical thrusters and off we go. Well, there it goes. Better cinch it tight. This is a late model, but I’m sure it will jam us into the seat anyway – maybe not as hard as my dad’s.”

Laughing Wolf had barely clamped the buckle when he was rammed into the seat as if someone had just tossed a 100-pound sack of grain on his lap.

In seconds, they were 10,000 feet or more over Sedata and the town’s roads were lines on the ground. Then another burst as the rear thrusters kicked on and the slim Jet Car eased into an effortless-seeming flight across the Arizona high country.

Laughing Wolf was regarding the forest below where somewhere below was his cave hide-out, and Star Trina was monitoring the auto pilot system, when there was a sound that made them both turn in dumbfounded slow-motion.

“Wow! Neato! This is just like the Jetsons! And you’re giving me a ride! This is the best vacation ever!” Then little Randy Fixion, while staring happily out the window, began mouthing the tune to the long ago, popular animated TV series from the early 1960’s. “Da-dan-dan-dahnnnn,” followed by the twirly sound emitted by the cartoon Jet Cars flown by George Jetson to work.

“Oh oh – now we’ve done it.” Laughing Wolf stared thoughtfully at the boy as Star Trina’s remark hung in the air of the cabin with all of its implications weighting it, making it seem almost solid enough to see. Then Laughing Wolf spoke to the boy. “Son, do you have any idea about this ride being different from anything?”

Randy cocked his head. “Different? What do you mean?”

“Well, have you ever been on an airplane?”

Randy looked back out the window. “Yea, I visit my Gramma in Seattle, but this – why you can’t fool me Mister Wolf. You got me on a Jet Car just like George Jetson! Wow, this is fun! None of my friends are gonna believe this! But, then, I guess they would never believe them funny looking spacemen either.”

“Spacemen?” Star Trina and Laughing Wolf glanced at each other before Star Trina replied, cautious of the can of worms she might be opening. “Randy – do you mean spacemen on that Jetson cartoon?”

Randy pulled a toy figure out of his pocket – a 2” tall astronaut with a globe helmet like a deep-sea diver – and pranced it across the top of the seatback in front of him.

“There’s no spacemen like them on the Jetsons. The Jetsons are in the future…Miss Trina – is this the future?” Randy continued playing absently, all the while avoiding looking at them directly.

“Son, are the spacemen like the one you are playing with?”

Randy looked at Laughing Wolf, and then turned the toy astronaut toward him like it was a puppet answering, making his voice sound robotic and mechanical. “Diamonds. They look like big diamond heads just like what Mama wears at parties – all shiny and glimmering in the purple light. Just like now. See – they’re doing it again.”

Just then, Star Trina and Laughing Wolf whipped around to stare above the Jet Car as a military attack fighter pod with Delta wings matched their speed and was looming above them, blocking the sunlight. Laughing Wolf saw that little Randy was playing with the toy astronaut with his eyes clinched shut.

Jet Car’s radio blared a blunt command, “Jet Car 1874A, you are ordered to immediately cease and desist your flight direction and maintain course change as follows. Failure to comply will result in your craft being vaporized. Is this order clear? Please respond.”

Without hesitation, Star Trina grabbed the radio. “Please don’t shoot – we have a child on board!”

The Cover-up Incident

Jim Danga took a careful sip of his coffee and contemplated Star Trina’s unlikely guests, who at the moment were still passed out from the tranquillizer she’d given them the day before. His studies of UFO phenomenon in the Sedata region over the past century, although well researched and documented, had never encountered so bizarre an occurrence. He adjusted his large tortoise shell glasses on his narrow nose and made a few more notes. This case was sure to be a major subject in his next book.

Star Trina’s kitchen was as familiar to him as his own, as she often had friends over, and her ranch was indeed a place of refuge from the hub that Sedata had become since incorporation.

The Fixions had to be real. Their car, parked out in the barn, was immaculate, vintage 1965; complete with trash, candy wrappers, magazines, newspapers and other odd, dated evidence in crisp condition that would be very difficult to fake if it all was a hoax. The other thing was, undeniably, more than coincidence. He’d read the article on the library’s archival disk. The new blurb mentioned the disappearance of a family vacationing in 1965, never heard from again. He raised his brows, and stared at Mr. Fixion across the room on the sofa, snoring peacefully. Jim took another sip of coffee and made some notes. This story would finally vindicate all of his detractors and prove beyond all doubt, all of his assertions and claims about the shady business of the UFO phenomenon on earth.

“My – but I do feel as though I’ve had several triple martinis and been out all night.” Jim turned toward the bedroom door where Mrs. Martha Fixion stood, leaning languorously against the frame rubbing her face.” Didn’t you say your name was Jim?”

Jim nodded, not sure of what to say to her, well aware of her being a relic 50 years out of time.

“John dear, wake up honey. I can’t find Randy anywhere. She went to her husband and knelt down to him, attempting to rouse him to no avail. John snored on. Jim deftly folded over the news articles and his notes, discreetly hiding them from view, not sure why the drugs given to the family out of time had failed on her.

“Have you seen my little Randy?”

Her plain glance was merely inquisitive, as though she was accustomed to her little boy running off, but Jim was indeed worried. Star Trina had insisted for him to be sure nothing happened until she and Laughing Wolf returned. If the kid had also not been knocked out strong, and was running around, it would not be good. Who knows what could happen to time? Suddenly, Jim became very paranoid and tried to mask his distress. “Uh, no, but don’t you worry, uh-

Mrs.” –

“Fixion”, Martha stated proudly. “Martha Fixion, but you may call me Martha, sir.”

“Uh, Martha,” Jim continued, “Your son is being a kid. He’s probably exploring someplace.”

“Well, that boy can get into the darndest things.”

Jim looked around and noticed the sleep drugs on the counter. He had made a pot of coffee earlier and just maybe, he could knock her out again. “Martha, would you like some coffee?”

Martha turned around, shrugging, and stood up from her husband. “I guess he had too much fun. Yes – that’d be nice. Lots of sugar, lot of cream. I like my coffee the color of caramel.”

“Caramel, it is.” Jim stood and, hiding the cup and his actions, poured enough sleep powder in with the sugar to make her sleep a full day. He also prepared to refill his own cup and failed to note that both mugs were exactly alike. After pouring, he stared down; realizing his mistake just as Martha came up to him and somewhat seductively slipped her arm beside him and took one of the mugs.

“Why thank you – it smells simply wonderful.” She proceeded to fix her coffee to her liking.

Jim stared at the remaining mug, hesitantly grasping it, wondering about its contents. He decided to feign dropping it, and was about to pick it up when Martha again brushed into him. He shockingly realized that Mrs. Fixion was deliberately brushing against him. He turned his head and gazed at her.

“John always sleeps very, very hard. Why, I could clean up a storm, whirr up the vacuum and blare the TV just as loud as I could, and he’d snore right through all of it.” She had wriggled herself against the counter, facing him, her body scant inches from his. He glanced around nervously as the sound of John snoring missed a beat, then resumed as loud and steady as before. He could not believe what was happening right there in Star Trina’s kitchen. Martha’s behavior made Jim involuntarily lean toward her and she leaned up to him. Suddenly, the spell was shattered as John sputtered and fell on the floor groaning and rubbing his head. Jim, slipping his pinky in the handle of the mug he was unsure about, spun around, knocking the mug across the counter spilling coffee everywhere.

“Oh!” Martha seemed to shake herself out of her demure, trance-like advance and hastily sat down with her coffee. “He’s fallen off the bed before, and continued sleeping on the floor.” Martha did not seem too enamored with her husband. John, true to the claim, snorted and resumed sleeping in front of the sofa – his feet sticking out past the coffee table.

Jim was regarding what had just occurred – or rather, what had almost happened, when a car pulled nearly up to the door. There was a sound of voices and doors opening and there was a sharp rap on the door before he’d even soaked in everything from the past few minutes. He glanced out the door and noticed the severe looking man in a dark suit partially blocking the view of a black car with darkened windows, and the red and blue NWS obliquely marked on the front grill. The man was about to knock and peer into the house, but before he had gotten his face up to the glass, Jim was gone, in a move as swift as a superhero with magic powers.

Martha’s jaw dropped and she stood just as there came a loud rapping on the door.

Jim Danga’s escape route was much rehearsed and needed no better motive for taking it than an encounter with NWS field reps. In scant seconds, he’d leaped out of the kitchen and was out the rear door onto the hedge-hidden path that led directly to the tree. The tree was an ingenious hideout, having been hollowed naturally, improved by tools and fitted with a cleverly concealed door and hidden latch. Inside the tree was enough room for a person to climb up above the door and push down a false ceiling that appeared to be solid tree in the unlikely event the door was discovered and a pursuer were to peer inside. Into this cramped, but very secure hiding place, Jim Danga had escaped since he was certain his activities had finally made him the subject of NWS scrutiny and therefore the reason they had tracked him to Star Trina’s ranch. He had little reason to suspect otherwise, thus his surprise after spending a half hour or longer in the tree he observed through a peephole a flat bed tow truck arriving. After much commotion in the front of the house, that he could only hear, he saw the tow truck drive off with the Fixion’s 1965 Ford Fairlane followed by the NWS black car.

A “Wrist –Slap” on Vamos 4

Meanwhile on an orbiting station around a little planet called Vamos 4, a trial was underway…

“What do you mean you said – Just dump them – nobody will know the difference? Do you wish to ruin the relationship we have with this planet, Commander Voode? Your actions might have initiated interstellar conflict – not to mention a time-factored alteration in species evolvement!” The questioner interrogating the now meek Commander Voode was Council Leader Vock Huar, who glared at the commander, his colors pulsing from orange to a magenta patina, as his anger flared. He strode back and forth in the Council Chamber, his short tail swinging like a bat, projecting stiffly from his backside in irritation. Commander Voode practically cowered in her seat with her dainty tail curling behind her nervously, her faceted head glinting with the greenish yellow shades of fear and embarrassment over her misjudgment.

“Our arrangement with the Earth leaders must not be compromised. Your mistake is inexcusable. I only hope you can go back and retrieve your hapless experiment before they have irrevocably damaged the time continuity for themselves or, needless to say, for the entire planet!”

Commander Voode now ventured her response and sat up straighter. “The hectoplasm, sir. It was the faulty hectoplasm in the Navi-timegator that caused the problem to begin with. With all due respects, I will need a different craft capable of returning and restoring the situation.” Commander Voode had never had to endure such humiliation and stood on her flawless record as a hyper stellar Commander. This Council Leader was familiar with her, which was to her benefit; otherwise, she may have been terminated of command or worse.

Council Leader Vock Huar, now emanating the normal pale lavender hue, returned and cast his bulbous eyes upon Commander Voode, standing over her like an admonishing instructor, his tail relaxed and now swishing softly. “Commander, I am well aware of your needs. Certain forces on Earth have already been contacted to make your task only a little less difficult. Your mother was a great Planet Master and your father legendary in Exploration Command, but even with all of that, Commander Voode, you are only granted this once and only chance for redemption. If you are unsuccessful, the matter will be with Galactic Central Order!” For a moment, his dome colored a blue tint of sympathy – but quickly returned to bland lavender as he controlled his emotions.

Commander Voode’s facets flushed in creamy beige of acceptance and admiration as Council Leader Vock Huar placed his hand upon her shoulder. “I will succeed, sir.”

Secret Ops

Jim Danga had wasted no time climbing back down from his secure hiding spot in the tree in the backyard at Star Trina’s house. Once he’d seen the tow truck leave with the Fixion’s car, he’d suspected the worst. A quick observation had determined the house to be unguarded and empty. The Fixions had been snatched by the NWS! Of this fact, Jim was certain. He’d been on to the workings of the super secret aspects of the multi-national organization for some seventeen years or longer – back when it was merely a shady government agency. But, this was the very first time he’d witnessed a direct cover-up in progress.

Now, he watched through binoculars, from a hidden area on the rim of Air Park Mesa at the Fixion’s car being loaded onto a Transport Class Aircraft with NWS markings.

Security was pretty tight around the operation. He counted over 20 agents. Then he saw three persons being wheeled on gurneys into the waiting craft. The Fixion’s were now unconscious captives of the NWS!

He coughed as exhaust from an older jet-fuel-burning craft taking off blasted his direction on the wind, bringing with it the acrid smell of spent hydrocarbons. How was he ever going to explain to Star Trina and her new friend about losing the family from the past to an uncertain future that was their misfortune now to be their present circumstances? Worse – he was certain Star Trina had told him there was not one child, but two, a little boy. He had seen only the girl and her strange parents. Where, then, was the boy?

Jim suddenly ducked as he observed one of the NWS agents gesture to another and reach for a pair of binoculars. He could not risk being spotted. He had to get back to Star Trina’s ranch. The boy had to be around there somewhere. Without hesitation, Jim sped down the trail that would quickly lead him down off the mesa to his truck parked in an industrial area just off the slope of the mountain.

Destination Unknown

“Where do you reckon they’re leading us?” Laughing Wolf asked, half wondering aloud as he stared at the bleak landscape below.

Star Trina glanced at the directional course heading that the military delta jet pilot had instructed them to follow or face dire consequences, and replied with an air of acute certainty. “It has to be White Sands – the secret airbase in New Mexico – remember Roswell?

Laughing Wolf thought only for a second. “Yeah. Roswell incident. Seems the government never would admit anything, even way back then huh? Why do you reckon they’re leading us there? We didn’t take this little boy.” Laughing Wolf regarded little Randy in the seat now, his face plastered wide-eyed to the window, peering out at the desert landscape slipping past. “NWS. They seem to know everything when it comes to suspicious events and encounters – especially when it involves UFO type occurrences. My friend Jim has volumes of information. I hope everything’s okay back at the ranch. We barely had time to brief Jim on what we learned about the Fixions from that old news article in the library archives.”

“Uh, sorry to interrupt, but I think you’re right about White Sands. I think I see buildings that look like aircraft hangars.”

Star Trina adjusted the autopilot to the landing coordinates given in the previous order from the big delta jet. They were already slowing to a descent as the ominous wraith-like jet hung above them like a vulture swooping on to a prey. The delta jet seemed motionless in its glide onto the tarmac.

“I’m glad you know how to land this thing as well as fly it.” Laughing Wolf gripped the armrests. Star Trina deftly punched a few buttons, then set the controls to their approach angle, then eased back on the thrusters. Her touchdown would have made any jet pilot envious.

They had barely unstrapped their seatbelts when Laughing Wolf noticed about a half dozen uniformed personnel surrounding the Jet Car. He also observed that they were all armed.

“I should have never gone to mail that package. Why, I could have been relaxing by my fire right now, eating a steak.”

“Well,” Star Trina said, “then we might never have met, now would we? At least this is interesting.”

“To say the least.” Laughing Wolf helped Randy out of his belt and stood over him. “Now you listen good, son. If you want to go home and see your ma and pa again, you have to listen and stay out of trouble. You already know you did a bad thing by sneaking on board like you did. Now, are you going to behave so we can get you back home?”

Randy peered up at Laughing Wolf and Star Trina. “I didn’t mean anything. I wanna go home, Mister, I really do, but this is more fun. It’s the funnest thing I’ve ever done. But, you don’t have to worry about my Mom and Dad. Why, they are just over there in that doorway of that big building, see ‘em? I don’t know how they got here, but I know I had more fun than them. I always do!” With that, Randy grabbed his toy spaceman, and sidled past a completely bewildered Laughing Wolf and Star Trina to the exit hatch that stood open. Laughing Wolf glanced out and saw the family waving just where the kid had said.

“Welcome to the covert world of the NWS!” Star Trina bit her lip, pensive after her remark, then took Laughing Wolf’s hand and followed the boy out the hatch into the blinding light and heat of the New Mexico desert, expecting to be cuffed and hauled away on kidnapping charges. Instead, a crisply uniformed agent wearing steel-rimmed, shiny chrome lens sunglasses, with the name Stockwell emblazoned on his shirt pocket, extended his hand to Star Trina as she stepped from the jet car.

“Sorry about the threat to vaporize your jet car, Ms. Trina, but we had to insure your compliance to bring the boy here.” The agent’s voice held no malice, only kindness. Star Trina’s reaction was utter surprise.

“But – how could you have known that kid was a stowaway? How do you know my name!? – Who are you people?”

“Please come this way. Your jet car is secure and will be returned to you after your debriefing.” Agent Stockwell’s voice may have been direct and pleasant, but it was definitely a command.

They followed Agent Stockwell across the tarmac, as behind them the armed guards staked themselves around the jet car in alert poses. Agent Stockwell’s stride was as crisp as the starch in his uniform and Laughing Wolf wondered about the possible walking pain, imagining the chafing on his thighs. Ahead, Randy Fixion was already leaping into his parent’s embrace. He sidled a glance at Star Trina, who stuck out her hand. Laughing Wolf found himself eager to clasp her hand. Fifteen years! The touch was superb as her slim, soft fingers entwined in his weather-roughened grip.

The little family from 1965 looked right at home in the military starkness of the setting, whose external appearance still had the look of the 1950’s, complete with several antique aircraft and conventional jets parked around the various hangars amidst an array of trucks, jeeps and forklifts.

John Fixion addressed them as they came up. “Miss Trina – Mr. Wolf, -On behalf of my family, I want to thank you for bringing back my boy and especially for giving us your hospitality. I can’t imagine the ruckus that was averted because of your quick thinking the other day at the post office in Sedata. Why, we had no idea what had happened and I thought we were crazy, in some kinda nightmare!”

“I always knew – I did, I did. I knew it the minute that mist cleared, Daddy, cause I saw a flying car just like in the Jetsons.” Everyone glanced at little Randy, at his surprising admission.

“Well, you could have said something, stupid,” snapped his big sister Sally. “And then sneaking away like that. You nearly gave Momma a conniption fit when she realized you were gone.”

Martha Fixion quickly stepped in. “Now children, yes, I was upset, but let’s remember our manners. These gentleman assure us that everything will be all right and that we will be able to go home to our own time.” She turned to Star Trina. “Thank you so much, and please apologize to your friend, Mr. Danga. He was such a gentleman. I don’t know why he ran off so fast when these fine soldiers came to get us, but please tell him goodbye.”

“Uh, yes thank you, Mrs. Fixion. I’ll tell him.”

Agent Stockwell had been standing with his arms folded stiffly, and now uncrossed his arms and adjusted his sunglasses. “Alright folks, that’s enough pleasantries. Let’s move out. We’re on a timetable for the rendezvous with your ticket home. Follow me.” With surprising grace, the agent did an abrupt about face that had the elegance of a ballet move on ice skates, and marched into the gloomy interior of the hangar.

Laughing Wolf and Star Trina lagged behind the family, but Laughing Wolf noticed the two, armed agents that followed them from behind. It was clear that they were not leaving just yet.

The hangar was cavernous with a ceiling at least fifty feet or more overhead, lost in the gloom. The only light was from the open shaft of the bay that let in the blinding glare of the desert outside that cut into the dim interior like a diffuse knife, and from a small structure ahead of them that was lit with soft fluorescent lighting tinted a pale yellow. Laughing Wolf realized the little building was actually some type of bus on a rail.

Agent Stockwell came and stood in front of Laughing Wolf and Star Trina, glaring at them without his sunglasses. “I don’t know why you two are being permitted to come along, but after this point you have to wear these if you wish to have your normal lives.” Two assistants in black uniforms approached and handed them both black hoods. Agent Stockwell continued his command. “Put these over your heads and leave them until told to remove them. Be aware that the consequences are very severe if you do not comply with this simple directive.”

Star Trina, who had been silent, either in shock or merely cautious, now stirred and spoke. “Why can’t we just go and not have to be exposed to any of your top secret games and toys. It’s obvious that you’re in cahoots with the aliens who misplaced that poor family. Are you going to brainwash us, too?”

“No, I won’t, but you will be debriefed. Now, please, by special request, you both must continue on. Place the hoods, now.”

Reluctantly, Star Trina glanced at Laughing Wolf, then allowed the opaque hood to be placed over her head. Laughing Wolf shrugged and did likewise. They were then led onto the transport vehicle and sat onto the comfortable plush seats. There were a few moments of shuffling and excited talk by the Fixions as everyone else got seated. Then, with a smooth acceleration, they were off. A sudden dip downward told Laughing Wolf they had moved below the surface of the desert by at least a hundred meters, judging by the long time before the feeling of the drop finished and leveled off to a straight ahead movement.

After what seemed like miles, and at least a half an hour, they were slowing to a stop.

“You can remove your hoods now. Sorry for the inconvenience.” Laughing Wolf removed his hood and breathed deeply. Although he had been able to breathe quite normally through the material that was not opaque by the nose and mouth, the deep breath was an unconscious action, after the trick of being covered by the hood.

Exiting the vehicle, Laughing Wolf felt right at home as he saw they were in a small, lush valley of grass with Cottonwood and sycamore trees gracing the course of a creek across the expanse of meadow. Steep slopes in all directions surrounded the valley. Behind them, the rail the vehicle was upon snaked to a gap in the hill and disappeared in a narrow canyon.

Ahead of them, the Fixion’s 1965 Ford Fairlane was parked in the shade of a large cottonwood, looking as clean and shiny as on a new car lot, its wood sides gleamed with fresh varnish. All of the Fixion’s luggage and camping gear was packed and ready. Sitting in lawn chairs near the car were a group of five men and four women, all wearing the official blue suits of top NWS officials. All wore very dark sunglasses and were all downright mysterious. Laughing Wolf had the feeling that these nine people were the main reason for the secrecy. Menacing looking guards flanked them.

Agent Stockwell motioned to the Fixion family. “Go to your car and drive to the pink flagged area out on the field. Before you know it, you’ll be back in your own element and your own time.”

Little Randy broke away and ran up to Star Trina and Laughing Wolf. “Miss Trina and Mr. Wolf – Thanks for the really neato ride. I’m sorry I snuck on board, but I had a really lot of fun. Wait till I tell my friends about the Jetsons being real in the future! Wow!” With that, little Randy tore off and made a beeline for the car, leaping in before the rest of his family had even started to approach it.

Star Trina shook her head, “Quite a spunky little boy. I doubt if he’ll remember any of this.”

“Well that may be,” Laughing Wolf conceded, “but I wonder if they’re really going to let us remember any of this.” He glanced at the nine individuals seated and chewed his lip thoughtfully.

Minister Harvey, a balding tired-looking man with sagging jowls and a double chin, seated in the middle of the Group of Nine, regarded the strange couple who had brought the boy. He turned to Minister Shevoyavich on his left, a plump woman who’d left Russia after the ruination of economic travesties. “Madam Shevoyavich, your people received the order – was it necessary to breach security to bring these two here to witness?” He unclasped his sleeves and rolled them up his fat arms.

“The order, my friend, indeed mentioned to bring the woman and man who had the stowaway child on their craft or there would be consequences.”

“No doubt, a sanction of off world privileges. But, we do have to maintain tight control of the masses. They just are not ready.”

“Minister Harvey, it is my opinion that the masses will never be ready to accept the truth. I hope you are ready to make those two forget everything.”

“Indeed we are, Minister Shevoyavich. Indeed we are. But, I am puzzled at the degree of their intelligence.”

“Genetic signature tracking, remember? They already had the boy’s coding from their earlier abduction. I’m sure they located him immediately upon their return to fix the error. It’s also how the farm was found so easily with the others.”

Minister Harvey’s embarrassment over his lack of technical knowledge was masked by a sudden wind and vibration of the air. In seconds, a five hundred meter across, Hyperstellar Orb-craft appeared out of the ether of hyperspace, quavering in the air barely over the tips of the tallest cottonwoods along the creek. Everyone, even the Secret Earthleaders Group of Nine, bent from the blast of displaced air that puffed like a gigantic sigh that swept past with a faint sweet scent of unimaginable distances and worlds.

Moments later a column descended, shining of some silvery metal, and touched the ground, an elevator of sorts.

Laughing Wolf felt Star Trina’s grip tighten on his hand. “Jim Danga would really love to see this! He’s been right all these years.” Her voice was hushed.

“Well, I guess that family will finally get back home, because they sure aren’t going to drive out of here.” Laughing Wolf beckoned her to look as the Fixions, in their car, drove over to an area marked by pink flags and simply vanished in a pulse of greenish glow! Out of the column strode a pair of the most incredible looking creatures Laughing Wolf could ever have encountered in his wildest imagination.

The two aliens were simply beautiful and strangely elegant in a manner that Laughing Wolf could only describe as completely unlike any characterization of aliens he’d ever seen in popular literature or movies. They stood erect and wore shimmering suits that dazzled like a kaleidoscope, and both had swishing tails that made them seem cat-like. But, what struck Laughing Wolf the most was their large heads that were edged in hundreds of facets that seemed to constantly glint and change hue and color. It was the most fascinating thing he’d ever encountered. At least their faces were normal enough even though their eyes bulged somewhat from their sockets. They were shrewd and highly intelligent seeming eyes, possessing a lit-from-within quality that Laughing Wolf recognized immediately as wisdom and experience. Elephant eyes, he thought. Laughing Wolf was only mildly surprised that he heard one of the beings address the group, not with his ears, but inside his head.

“Council of Earth, on behalf of Sector Command, a supreme apology is extended for this unfortunate mistake. This will never occur again, for it has been decided to abandon all present and future evaluation here, now that similar worlds have been discovered with beings like yourselves more advanced. All further contact will be only for exchange of materials needed. The great secrecy and manipulation by which you leaders of Earth continue to maintain negative control upon the beings here has been found to be harmful to planetary evolvement and understanding of Galactic Culture and order. It has further been decided, Earth is to have new leaders to intervene and mediate with us supremely above all of you gathered here today. Those new Supreme Leaders are to be engaged here now, and is why they were requested.”

“From now on, we will only conduct communication with your world through these two beings – the man and woman who brought the young boy here today. They will be regarded by our people as the highest authority and we will expect that they will be protected and regarded as such by your entire world. Any opposition will result only in destruction. Do we make ourselves understood Group of Nine?”

“You can’t do this!” The large-jawed man in the middle chair, whose arms were like loaves of bread sticking from his rolled up sleeves stood up suddenly, indignant, turning red in belligerence, shouting, ”They--why, they’re just civilians! I refuse this preposterous directive. I demand to speak with High Order Central! We’ve been letting you abduct our people for over a century and I will not be treated like some minor being, placed behind some farm woman and an old geezer hermit who wears skins for Crick’s sake!” Laughing Wolf and Star Trina were yanked suddenly by Agent Stockwell and escorted firmly over to the seated men and women. All of the rest of the seated “Group of Nine”, Laughing Wolf noticed, seemed so shocked that they were speechless.

The alien’s hue flashed a crimson shade, tinted with orange and magenta streaks. It was the strangest thing Laughing Wolf had ever seen beyond the day’s already peak experience. If ever someone were to depict a color for seething rage, Laughing Wolf decided, the alien was demonstrating that color. Its tail had stiffened like a pole, and Laughing Wolf correctly assumed it to mean irritation. The alien being turned to its companion. Seconds later, a flash of light emitted from a device that hit the protesting man squarely in the chest, turning his entire body below the neck a very iridescent shade of blue, and causing him to fall over like a board. Then, as Laughing Wolf watched in fascination, his body was surrounded by the same greenish glow and he was gone.

“Any further opposition to the directive from High Order Central will be just as severe. He is alive aboard our craft and will be reprogrammed and released with no memory, to lead an uneventful existence of constant struggle just like the many billions scattered around your hapless planet. All of our evaluation has proven beyond all doubt that your planet is in dire need of advancement to even the most rudimentary levels of Galactic Awareness. Few have the mental clarity to accept the larger reality of All That Is. That is why we have decided to deal only with that man and woman from now on, for they have the qualities we are demanding. Choose well, Group of Eight, and come forth, Supreme Two.”

A New Reality for All

Star Trina, acting on automatic reflexes, engaged the landing thrusters and set the jet car down in the large clearing not far from the isolated lodge deep in the forest on the high, central plateau in Arizona where Laughing Wolf had been living. The flight back from their otherworldly encounter in White Sands seemed like a dream. Both had been too much in shock to fully comprehend the magnitude of what had happened. Laughing Wolf took it all in stride. He’d left society to become a hermit because he just couldn’t relate to the way the world had been heading. Old Hadley had accepted him like a son, and he had thought he would live out his days alone in the forest. Now, he was merely amused that his staunch hermitage had been just the kind of thing these incredible aliens found advanced which had prepared him to accept them, and all that they had offered. It was incredible that he and his new mate were to be the main intermediaries for the entire planet. What a laugh! He could hardly wait to see the reaction of Star Trina’s friend Jim when he learned that all the secret government hoopla was real and now it was to be themselves who were “in cahoots with aliens!” He chuckled at his ironic thoughts and glanced at Star Trina.

“I won’t be long. I just have a few things to fetch.” Laughing Wolf squeezed Star Trina’s hand and climbed out.”

“I’ll come too. I have to get out in these woods and breathe all of this in.”

Laughing Wolf watched her as she strode off under the mighty ponderosa pines, then went to gather his few belongings. He, too, needed to reflect upon being made, what amounted to nothing less than, Supreme Council Leader for the entire Secret Government of Earth, shared equally with Star Trina, whose sole directive was to insure continued open exchange to bring humanity into Galactic culture in a true evolution of perception.

Under threat of dire consequences, the Group of Eight had quickly ascertained that compliance outweighed opposition, which meant loss of their accumulated wealth and societal position, in addition to loss of their identities, families and social memories. He and Star Trina were unequivocally accepted as the new emissary leaders – the Supreme Two – to represent Earth. He thought back to fifteen years earlier when he had wanted to escape from the world and now, the world had been given to him and his new companion for life. Their proposal and union had been deeply caring and appropriate in their circumstances. Their future was bright and interesting. He had no further need of this place now that Hadley was gone.

He thought of all that Hadley had given him and vowed to do only good in the world with it. Luckily most of his gift was still deep in the earth and would be safe, where it had eluded every prospector for nearly two centuries because its true location was far beneath the Colorado plateau, not the Superstition Mountains like everyone had assumed.

Laughing Wolf hoisted his pack onto his back and grasped the heavy satchel of thick leather and canvas.

Just then, Star Trina returned from her walk, looking much refreshed. “Here, let me help.” She leaned down to grab the satchel then let the handle drop. “Gawd, what do you have in this thing anyway - a bunch of rocks?”

“Well,” Laughing Wolf teased, “as a matter of fact, yes.”

“What?” Star Trina wrinkled her eyebrows. “You’ve got to be kidding.” Laughing Wolf knew she was just trying to be normal and not let the enormity of their new secret status get to her. “No, I guess you’re not kidding. It is rocks. Wait a minute.” She picked up a large rock and looked at it, incredulous. “This is gold! Laughing Wolf, where did you get all this gold?”

Laughing Wolf chuckled. “Well, you see – “

“Sorry – I just have to interject something. Remember at the post office when you tried paying for your shipment with raw gold nuggets? I had wondered where it came from, because it’s extremely rare nowadays.”

“As I was saying – old man Hadley prospected. That’s how come he could buy that jet car. Seems there was a mysterious mine originally found by a man sometime in a previous century who became known as The Dutchman. That mine was subsequently lost. Well, thousands upon thousands have sought this lost Dutchman mine. Hadley found it by accident.”

“The Dutchman? He found the Dutchman mine of legend? No reputable person ever considered it to be real. You know where it is?”

“Yes. And now it belongs to us, but we’re going to keep only this one bag of the best nuggets. Our new position warrants us to give this resource to the people.” Laughing Wolf spoke without glancing at Star Trina, who had gone pale. When he looked at her, he saw that she looked like she was ready to faint. He quickly crossed over to her just in time to catch her. “Well, maybe we’ll keep just a few more sacks!”

The End