Lillian Francken - We Come in Peace

The technician quickly sat up, sending the candy bar and wine cooler flying into the radar screen, causing it to short-circuit. It sent sparks flying in every direction. The technician quickly reached for the phone.

The spacecraft was almost under control, but then suddenly a rock formation came into view, and the craft quickly spun into a dead man’s roll as its occupants feverishly struggled with the controls. In the distance, the adult movie station came into view, and within an instant, the craft veered up, but not soon enough. The satellite dish that sat on top of the station roof was struck ever so lightly by the spacecraft, causing it to teeter and then fall into the station as the spacecraft still careened out into the desert. Unknown to the occupants of the spaceship, the dish had damaged the navigational rigging, making it impossible to control the spacecraft.

The two technicians were still going at it, as the monitor in the distance showed static across the screen. All around the two technicians, the station was disintegrating, and luckily, they were in the only room surrounded by cinder block walls. Their moans were louder as the dish came crashing into the studio, causing the outside wall to collapse. The two engineers collapsed into exhaustion. There was total silence as the dish with all its trailing debris rested on the studio floor. The only structure still intact was the room the two technicians were in. Open desert could be seen where a wall once stood.

Bobby followed the camel spider as it sought shelter somewhere on the desert floor, still under the influence of a drug-induced high.

“Oh, to be in your arms, Shelby Lynn, and smell the sweet scent of jasmine as you float by…”

And suddenly, as if waking from his stupor, he glanced up in time to see the spacecraft careening at him but then it suddenly veered up and disappeared a moment.

Zolar struggled with the controls. Finally, the throttle stopped vibrating, and the craft zoomed closer to the desert floor, and then suddenly zoomed up. She turned to Jupel.

“That was close. Increase the power to the cloaking matrix,” Zolar ordered.

Jupel turned to her quickly after reading the various gauges. “Systems are failing,” he said anxiously.

Zolar yelled, “I need power!”

“I’m trying.”

Jupel worked feverishly to reconfigure the power module as Z-42 whimpered, cowering in the cage at Jupel’s feet. Zolar braced herself for what was to come as the craft did a three-sixty and quickly bounced off the desert floor like a rock skipping across still waters.

At the facility at Area 51, “Cammo dudes” in their white and gray camouflage uniforms scurried around preparing themselves for an assault. They had weapons drawn as they hurried toward their white Jeep Cherokees. The man in charge, Colonel Crimshaw, a seasoned military officer, rushed out of the headquarters. He jumped behind the wheel of his Jeep, with a Cammo dude in the passenger seat. A Cammo dude took out the map and was about to unfold it when the Colonel reached over and grabbed it out of the young man’s hand. The Colonel revealed the plan while he started the Jeep, quickly shifted it into gear, and took off.

All the while, his passenger was frantically watching the road that zoomed by. The Colonel was driving blind as he studied the map while driving the Jeep.

Following the Colonel's Jeep was a caravan of ten white Jeeps. They followed him blindly because he was their leader and that was what they did, without question.

Bobby stood up on the barren rock looking up into the bright sun that blinded him for an instant. In the distance, the spacecraft could be seen careening out of control. It hit the desert floor, sending a cloud of dirt flying into the air in every direction as it then bounced up, rolling and kicking up debris. It smashed small bushes in its wake until finally, the craft came to a sudden stop about fifty feet from where Bobby stood.

Bobby, still dazed by the blinding sun, just stood there and focused his vision in front of him. He watched the crash as if it was on a big-screen TV and did not move or jump out of its way. He just laughed and nodded his head while watching it come to a screeching halt twenty feet in front of him.

“Cool landing,” he laughed to himself.

Bobby quickly jumped off the rock and walked over to where the spacecraft had come to rest. Once he reached the craft, he turned and looked at it in awe. The shiny metal just sat silently on the desert floor. Bobby slowly walked over to what looked like a door as it suddenly opened in front of him.

Jupel stormed out in a huff, not looking where he was going. His attention was on Zolar, who stood near the opening in the craft. Jupel shook his head in disbelief.

“Women drivers!” Jupel snapped.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Zolar said in her defense.

Jupel stopped and turned around, almost bumping into Bobby, who was standing in a hallucinogenic state. Jupel was startled for a moment and then just snapped his fist to his chest, a greeting used by his planet to greet a stranger.

“Take me to your leader,” Jupel said with authority.

Bobby looked at him, taken aback for a moment. He just stared at Jupel for the longest time. Bobby then snapped his fist to his chest and saluted Jupel. He didn’t know what else to do. Watching the news clips of the Star Trek Convention, he was aware that a lot of Star Trek followers were on their way to the convention center for the events that were scheduled all that month.

In the spacecraft beyond Bobby’s view, Zolar stood, looking at Jupel standing in front of Bobby. Zolar did not see Bobby. She was still angry with Jupel and picked up a piece of debris lying on the craft floor. She flung it at Jupel, hitting him in the back of the head. Jupel collapsed to his knees in front of Bobby and fell face down on to the desert floor. Blood slowly seeped out of the wound on the back of his head.

Zolar was startled when she suddenly saw Bobby standing in front of Jupel with is arm still on his chest. She stared for a moment at the blood seeping out of the wound on Jupel’s head and then looked up at Bobby before collapsing herself.

Bobby just stared at the two aliens on the ground in their silver space suits and then said

“Cool.”

Z-42 quickly ran out of the craft and up to Bobby. He barked as he ran in circles around Bobby’s feet. Bobby bent down to pet the anxious animal while the dog licked Bobby’s hand eagerly.

Bobby busied himself with sagebrush, covering up the path the spacecraft left behind on the desert floor. Once that was done, he picked up dead branches and sagebrush and covered the spacecraft in a feeble attempt to hide it from view. It served the purpose, as anyone driving by would have to know what he was looking for to notice the spacecraft. Given the brilliance of the hot desert sun that usually played tricks on the eyes, Bobby felt confident it would be safe until he could get back to fetch it for his Star Trek friends that had emerged from the craft.

Bobby walked over to his Chevy convertible and hopped in. He glanced into the backseat at Zolar and Jupel, still out cold. Bobby turned the key on the ignition and then looked at the dog sitting obediently near the spacecraft. Bobby whistled for the dog, then opened his door. Z-42 ran over to the car and jumped up onto Bobby’s lap. Then Bobby quickly put the car in gear. He drove onto Highway 375, and finally headed for home.

The caravan of white Jeep Cherokees sped along Highway 375 following their leader Colonel Crimshaw, who hung onto the steering wheel anxiously. The driver’s window was open, sending air current through the vehicle while the Cammo dude in the passenger seat struggled with the flopping map and had difficulty pinpointing where the spacecraft landed.