“Yeah, well, what evidence do we have?” Nancy retorted. “We didn’t take any pictures or anything; all we’ve got is some memories and a can of beer. Is that any better than some of the saucer nuts?”
“No,” Pel admitted.
“So maybe it didn’t really happen at all,” Nancy said; Pel noticed a hopeful tone to her voice. “Maybe we imagined it, got ourselves hypnotized somehow into believing it.”
Pel took a deep breath, then let it out slowly.
That explanation was actually just about as believable as any other, he had to admit. He didn’t like the idea that his mind could play such tricks on him, and he couldn’t explain it, but really, a man from another universe wasn’t a much better explanation.
He remembered Raven so clearly, though-the embroidery on his tunic, the greasy smudge on one temple, the cat hairs on his cloak, his odd accent. It didn’t seem like something he and Nancy would have imagined, not with the weirdly confusing story about evil wizards and galactic empires.
That reminded him of something, and he sat up in the recliner.
“Hey,” he said. “There was something he told me before you got home-he said the Galactic Empire sent a spaceship to Earth. Through a whatchamacallit, a gate or a space-warp or whatever, somewhere near here.”
Nancy looked puzzled.
“So?” she said.
“So,” Pel said, “if it was all real, then don’t you think a spaceship might make the evening news?”
Nancy blinked.
“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “Maybe.”
Pel was annoyed at her lack of enthusiasm, but tried not to show it. “Well, if it’s on the news, that would settle it, right? It would all be real, if it’s on the news.”
“And if it’s not?” Nancy asked.
Pel shrugged. “Well, then we still don’t know for sure,” he said. “But we wouldn’t be any worse off than we are.”
“That’s true,” she admitted.
“And if it is on the news,” Pel said with sudden enthusiasm, “this would really be big-time stuff! The first contact with another universe, my God!”
Nancy refused to share his excitement as he lifted the remote control and turned on CNN.
* * * *
Amy spoke quietly into the phone as she peered out her kitchen window. A man with what looked like a metal detector was walking across the back yard, swinging it slowly from side to side a few inches above the dewy grass. A team of men was taking photographs from every possible angle, with one of them holding a yellow measuring stick in various positions to provide a scale; about half of them wore Air Force uniforms, while the rest were in mufti.
They had started arriving right around dawn, and had apparently reached equilibrium now, with a few leaving whenever more arrived. And Amy’s call had finally gotten an answer.
“This is Amy Jewell,” she said. “I need to speak to Bob Hough right away.”
“I’m sorry,” replied the receptionist at Dutton, Powell, and Hough, “but Mr. Hough is on vacation in Cancun. I have the number of his hotel if this is an emergency, but Ms. Nguyen is handling everything for him while he’s away.”
Amy paused to think who Ms. Nguyen was. There was Susan, the Vietnamese woman who had helped out with the divorce-that must be her.
Susan had probably done most of the work anyway. The women with no titles or authority generally did everything except get the credit. “All right, then I’ll talk to Ms… to her,” Amy said.
“She’s only just gotten in, but I’ll see. Just a moment,” There was a click, and insipid music began playing softly. Amy watched as the man with the metal detector thing wandered out of sight around the corner, and the photography crew paused to reload.
“Susan Nguyen,” said a voice on the phone.
“Susan,” Amy said, relieved; the voice was familiar. This was definitely the Susan she remembered. “This is Amy Jewell; I think you helped Bob Hough handle my divorce last year?”
“Oh, yes, Ms. Jewell; how are you?”
“I’m fine, but listen, something really weird happened yesterday. This… this thing landed in my back yard yesterday. It’s like a… well, it’s like a spaceship out of a comic book or something.”
“A spaceship?” Susan replied dubiously.
“Not a real one,” Amy said hastily, “I think it’s some kind of gag-maybe a publicity stunt of some kind.”
“Oh,” Susan said. “It still seems strange. How big is… no, never mind that. What is it you want us to do?”
“I want it out of my yard, that’s what I want!” Amy’s temper, carefully held in check until now, finally gave out. “I don’t want anything to do with it! I want it out of here, and I want all these people who are out here looking at it off my land and away from here! And I want damages-it smashed my hedge and scared the hell out of me!”
“Have you called the police?”
Amy said, almost screaming, “They’re the ones who started it!” Then she stopped herself, took a deep breath, and forced herself to calm down.
She could sense Susan waiting calmly on the other end of the line.
“I called 9-1-1,” Amy said at last, “when the thing first fell here, because I thought it was a crashing airplane or something. So the police and the firemen came out and looked at it, and they took away the people who had been in it, and then the FAA came out and looked at it, and they said it wasn’t a private plane, it was some kind of military thing. So now…”
“Wait a minute, Ms. Jewell,” Susan said, interrupting. “There were people in it?”
“Yes! About a dozen of them, in silly purple uniforms. One woman and a bunch of men. All white, most of them blond, like a bunch of Nazis, with things like rayguns that didn’t work. The police took them all away and charged them with trespassing. And I want you to find them and find out who’s responsible and make them get this thing out of here!”
“I see,” Susan said. “Was it the county police that took them?”
“I think so,” Amy said. “Someone said something about taking them to Rockville, I think.”
“Well, that would be the county, then,” Susan agreed. “So you want to know who they are, and get the… the thing off your property. Anything else?”
“I want these people out of here. The FAA man called the Air Force, and one of them was here all night, sitting in his car, and a lot more got here this morning before I even woke up, and now there are a bunch of people out there taking pictures and measuring everything, and I want them off my land.”
“Air Force?” There was a long pause before Susan said, “I’m not sure how much I can do about them, Ms. Jewell, but I’ll try.”
“I don’t care who they are, I want them off my land!” Amy shouted. “Isn’t there something in the Constitution about soldiers in people’s houses?”
“Third Amendment,” Susan replied automatically. “I doubt it applies in this case, but I’ll see what I can do. I need to make a few calls, and then I’ll probably want to come out there and see just what the situation is. I have your address and phone number in the files; are they still current?”
“I haven’t moved,” Amy said.
“Good. Just hold on, Ms. Jewell, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” Amy said.
“Goodbye.”
“’Bye.” She hung up the phone and looked out the window at the photo team. Now they were pacing off the dimensions of her patio.
What business of theirs was that? She clamped her lips tight and turned away.
Maybe, she thought, if she didn’t watch, it wouldn’t be so annoying.
* * * *
“What I can’t figure out,” the detective lieutenant said, “is that not one of them wanted to use the phone. You’re sure of that?”
The booking sergeant nodded. “Absolutely,” he said. “We read them their rights individually, just to be on the safe side, and we explained it all, and we told each of them he was entitled to one phone call, and all we got was blank looks. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear that none of them had ever heard any of it before.”