Fly Me to the Moon Pt. 01

"We need to call the general," I stated.

"You're right," answered Major McCandless.

"I'll go," said Linda, not really wanting to leave but seeing no choice but to go. She quickly turned and left the craft, running out of the building as fast as she could, forgoing the security checks as she headed to his office.

Five minutes later, the general came running in along with eight more Marines who rapidly surrounded the now glowing ship. He entered, ducking his head as he came into the cabin, shocked at what he saw. He honestly didn't know what to expect but not what he saw.

"Oh, my," he said, "I knew bringing you here was a good idea. Look what you've done. I can't believe it, after all these years..." He reached out to touch one of the stains..

"Wait! We don't know what kind of organisms are there!" The major pushed the general's arm away.

"You're right. We need to get the medics in here and clear this out before we can do anything else. We need to photograph everything before anything is moved. We need... it's all in the book but when it really happens..."

Ten long minutes later the medical staff arrived, wearing bio-hazard suits, something that had not occurred to us now standing outside of the ship in our haste to go inside. McCandless was taking photographs of the interior while the medics were politely berating everyone that had gone into the ship without protection about the dangers we had possibly been exposed to.

An hour later a large plastic tent had been erected outside the ship, sealing it off from the rest of the hanger. The four of us and the Marine guards were put into quarantine until the medics were satisfied nothing had happened. The doctor told the general that the ship had waited fifty years, so a couple more days shouldn't matter.

While I was full of nervous tension, wanting to see the ship again, I was glad that the doctors were able to give me a stronger dose of lidocaine for my legs. I slept quietly for the first time since the incident killing my friends.

Over the next few days, the general was very friendly, acting almost like a boyfriend as he met with me during the day until the early evening, bringing me candies and chocolates and talking about his life in the Air Force.

"Not quite what you expected, is it?" he asked me as we sat down to eat, apart from the others.

"Well, you promised me something different. Thank you."

"What's on your mind? I know he left you after you were hurt. He was a fool to do that. I find you a vibrant and exciting woman. I researched your career. You were wasted on him."

I was shocked at the general's directness regarding my personal life. It was like pulling at an almost healed scab. I silently moved my fingers toward my facial scars. I said nothing, wondering what relationship I could have with him, the realization that he was a maverick when it came to following hard and fast regulations.

"I don't know what to say," I finally replied, putting my fork down. "You are direct, General."

"Must be the test pilot in me," he answered back, laughing. "I would like to see where we can go together... that is, if you are interested."

"Aren't you worried about whether I'll heal. I'm still in a lot of pain and am slow on my feet."

"All of which would still happen whether we were together or not. Think about it, that's all I ask. It can be good... it can be great. Ready for some Monopoly?"

The phone rang. It was the Medical Examiner with news. "We'll test the weapons we found and use radiocarbon dating and see how long they've been there."

"Well, that was interesting," said the general after he hung up the phone and repeated what he had heard. "Time to play. Major, you up for some Monopoly?"

Later that night, Linda and I were talking in our shared quarantine room. "I think he's asked me to marry him," I said.

"Are you sure?" asked Linda. "Maybe he just wants you as a friend with benefits."

"I don't think so, there are so many others out there who would jump at that chance and he has a reputation to protect, getting involved with me could be dangerous career-wise."

The relationship between the two of us deepened as I became more comfortable in his presence, finding him to be an intelligent, funny man who carried a responsibility that few others had experienced. I was ready to tell him I accepted his courtship.

As the days passed by, I learned more about him, what is was like growing up, his father a mailman, his mother a schoolteacher, a younger brother who was always getting into trouble but finally worked his way out of it. Finally, he went to the Air Force Academy near Colorado Springs and made his way up the ranks. He liked the Beach Boys, having grown up in Los Angeles' South Bay.

For my part, I told him about my parents, killed in a car accident by a drunken driver north of San Diego, leaving me on my own halfway through high school and then going to Annapolis and into the Corps. My career was on its way until the IED changed all that. I liked 60s music, especially Barbara Lewis' love songs.

As the days passed, I found myself liking the general, or Max as he had told me to call him, more and more.

Two weeks later, after speaking with the doctors on base following numerous medical tests, the general broke protocols and had everyone released from quarantine, unable to wait any longer. He met everyone outside the ship before leading us into the cabin once again as we crowded in.

The cushions having been replaced a few days earlier with blue Air Force ones, he sat down in what he considered the pilot's seat on the left and ran his fingers across the control panel. A moment later, the ship recognized his presence and six displays formed at eye level, each one showing a different aspect of the ship's exterior. "Look at this," he said, pointing to one showing the front of the craft. "I wonder if there's any way to hear what's going on outside..."

If he thought the ship was going to magically respond to his question he was wrong as the craft remained silent except for the quiet hush of hidden fans moving the air around.

"I don't know what to say now... we need another way of thinking before we do anything else. I don't think the ship can fly with the door open and I don't want to lock us in or send us up into space with no way back."

"You're right. There's no way to know how these creatures thought. It might be backwards to us. And there's got to be a way to access radar, some kind of radar."

Photographs were taken of the control panels with the idea of determining what each did.

Major McCandless sat down in the second seat looking at the front of the ship's cabin when the hatch closed with a "beep" and the craft slowly levitated toward the ceiling of the hanger, coming to a halt about six meters from the top, trailing the plastic wrap behind it. A new display appeared showing a bar graph which they surmised showed the energy level of the ship.

"Oh, crap, I didn't touch anything, I swear," he said, looking at the forward and ventral displays showing the Marine guards standing below and pointing at the spacecraft.

"Now what?" asked Linda, sitting on the floor of the cabin as the ship slowly moved around the interior of the building looking for a way out. "If this thing finds a way out, we're FUBARed."

Fortunately, not finding an exit, the ship slowly settled back down near the cement.

"Well, it looks like the major was in the pilot's seat," I said, not thinking of any other reason for what had happened. "I think we should stay out of the seats until we know more about how this thing works."

"I wish there was a Rosetta stone here" said Linda. "Without some type of manual we're never getting anywhere without a dangerous trial and error approach."

"Well, Captain, I don't know what to say," said the major who had now gotten up from his seat and moved back toward the doorway, watching it open as he got near. "It seems to have accepted us. We need some spacesuits. There should be some from the Blackbird program that we can use."

"I thought they were custom fitted," said Linda.

"They are... The general and I have a set. Anyhow, what about an extra pair of seats here? You can't sit on the deck."

"We've still got to figure out what these switches do," said the general, looking over the vast array of controls at the front of the craft and overhead above the seats, the strange writing giving no clue as to their responsibilities.

A few hours later, we were wearing spacesuits connected to air reservoirs and having an intercom check. "I don't know how we're going to figure this out without pushing buttons," said the major, overwhelmed by the control panel.

I, for my part, had been making mock-ups of the panel with the idea of labeling each component once its task was determined. "I wonder how much was automatic. Surely the on-board computer must be as advanced as what we have."

Later that day, I had finished my display and was prepared to write down what each control did. As the major sat down in the right seat again, the hatchway closed and the lights brightened behind the panels. Cameras were running giving Linda and me a view of the flight deck as we remained behind in the hanger's office watching on the computer monitor.

"I'm ready to push some buttons," the major said, looking at the general for permission.

"All right, let's just take it slow... Recording now: this is General Maxwell Stanbery with Major John McCandless. We are in the artifact and are proceeding to test the reactions of each control panel."

Since the major was in the pilot's seat, it fell to him to try the first series of switches. He let his hands fall naturally onto the control panel, thinking that that would be the more productive approach. "My hands," he reported, "are on the switches labeled by Colonel Sophia Origlieri as 'J4' and 'J12'. I am going to switch on 'J4'."

The major flipped the switch and waited a moment, then noticed that the six displays had switched to a radar-style display. "OK," he said, "that sets up the radar." Another display opened, showing a map of North America but it was all wrong, thought the major as he looked at it, the middle of the continent and where Florida was under water. He turned it off and moved to 'J12', announcing what he was doing as he flipped the second switch. The interior of the cabin was filled with the slight sounds of the hanger. "The 'J' sequence seems to control the outside environment... what do you want to call it? The outside environment, I guess."

He moved his fingers to the next row up and repeated his explanation of what he was doing as he flipped the first switch in the sequence.

There was a loud explosion as part of the ceiling ceased to exist, metal beams falling to the floor, and the ship rose up through the resulting hole and disappeared from sight into the evening sky.