>>>>>>>2:00 PM MDT<<<<<<<
>>>>>>>LOCATION: ALBUQUERQUE, NM<<<<<<<
It was amazing how quickly Richard’s first assignment came up: a two-person assignment with Dave that was—to his surprise—just south of HQ in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Dave told him that the southwest United States overall was both a major stop-over for visiting off-worlders. It was also home to one of the most prominent Extraterrestrial Communities designated by the U.N.: named Albuquerque after the city whose outskirts it lay hidden among.
“Saucers are your typical martian transport,” Dave was telling Richard as they cruised down the mountain road towards the city in one of the Badger duty SUVs. To better hide the vehicle from terrestrial eyes who would wrongly presume them to be the ‘men in black,’ the Badger’s shiny black exterior had been shielded to look like an older and dusted pickup truck with a covered bed. “For the most part, they’re not dangerous even if they are spooky to look at. And while the human residents of Albuquerque love the attention and tourism these so-called ‘close-encounters’ bring to their community, the flooding of reported sightings was really starting to piss off the Air Force. Luckily, it wasn’t long before our force came into the picture and the UN’s Extraterrestrial Relations Committee imposed an airspace lockdown code. Now, extraterrestrial vessels are only allowed to travel at designated times in American airspace and with advance permission from the ENC.”
“So no abductions?” Richard asked, stretching his mouth a bit to depressurize his ears from their drive over the mountain. “I thought part of the problem was that people were being abducted from these desert communities and experimented on before being dropped back on land five or so days later.”
“You read too many comic books, Johnson.” Dave shook his head with a dry look in his eyes but a casual smirk in his lip. “The conspiracy media has dramatized it more times than anyone on the force can count, all because it makes for a good story. The truth is abductions are statistically rare, and when they do happen, there’s very little collateral or personal damage. Many of those ‘curious’ guys who want to study human anatomy have stayed clear of even the most rural parts of the country since A.T.X.D. was created, or they’ve settled down and found more civil ways of examining human beings, like being allowed to take human form themselves. But just ‘cause abductions are rare doesn’t mean they never happen, of course.”
This piqued Richard’s interest, and he was even more fascinated by the story that followed. It took place in a part of the country he’d never heard of close encounters occurring.
“The last abduction case A.T.X.D. worked in conjunction with DESA was actually in Pennsylvania, and that was just a case of mistaking a human child for an extraterrestrial’s kid. The human family reported seeing a bright object flying over the night sky while they were out on the property—one of those large farmhouses near Wayne County—and then their child disappeared. However, it turned out it was just an extraterrestrial family looking for their little blue boy who’d gotten lost in the nearby woods and they’d accidentally picked up the wrong kid. Luckily, A.T.X.D. personnel were already in the area assisting the extraterrestrial family in a low-key Search-and-Rescue Op, so we managed to find the off-world couple’s kid and, in record time, get the human kid back to his parents before state authorities could be called in.”
“How did you guys cover it up?”
“Quite simply, the family had seen a shooting star. The human kid, only four, became so fascinated that he ran off to follow it when his parents weren’t looking. He was gone for close to an hour, though, so I don’t blame the family for freaking out. The point is the situation was resolved with no harm to anybody.”
“And when it comes to Extraterrestrial Communities, nobody takes notice?” Richard then asked.
“No reason to,” Dave replied simply. “All extraterrestrial residents who arrive here are given a new identity, resources to hide in plain sight, fill out some paperwork, or sit down with a DESA representative who arranges for residency, and that’s it. Most extraterrestrials of course are required to hide their identity in the terrestrial environment for safety. So the UN established these extraterrestrial communities as a kind of social environment or a town center so they don’t have to feel pressured to convert into another life form completely - you can let loose and talk with people who do or don’t look like you, maybe come from different planets, and so forth. It’s almost like a Chinatown, Little Tokyo, or the center of a small country town rather than a place where extraterrestrials are restricted to live. That kind of discriminative quarantining gesture is of course forbidden by the International Code, for obvious historical reasons. Better yet, most of these communities are shielded by dimensional barriers or hard-to-locate portals, so they can’t just pop up out of the blue to an ordinary human.”
The cluster of ordinary, human-made business towers was clear in the early afternoon sun as the Badger drew closer to the regular city of Albuquerque. But as the terrain leveled out and the suburbs were just starting to come into view, Dave drove off road onto what looked like a private dirt path. Richard could hear the dust crinkle and fly around as it was kicked up by the disguised Badger’s tires into the wheel well and chassis and the ride was getting a little bumpier. Within a few more minutes, they came up to what looked like a small hangar-like shack in front of an old adobe house. Although some more adobe houses surrounded the property, they were far enough away that almost any casual or clandestine activity wouldn’t have attracted attention. The shack itself had a red star on it and classic “Do Not Enter, Private Property” signs on two large metal doors.
Pulling the vehicle to a stop but leaving the driving battery running, Dave got out and tapped a small black wand to the edges of the doors. Even inside the SUV, Richard thought he could hear the heavy shunting sound of a deadbolt disengaging inside before Dave pulled one door open. Pushing the other one open, Dave returned to the driver’s seat and slowly drove them into this dark silo of a den. They’d barely come to a fully parked position when the metal doors made a loud hiss and slid back to a shut position.
A couple of small incandescent work lamps flickered on inside to illuminate the now fully dark space.
“I thought you said we were looking for a community, sir,” Richard inquired with bewildered confusion. Wait, is there like a ramp or elevator in here?
“Gimme a second, Johnson,” Dave advised, approaching what appeared to be the heavily graffitied back wall of the building. With the same wand tool as before, Dave rapidly jabbed the wand four times in an upward diagonal formation, making a rapid quadruple bang.
Cripes, that’ll let people know where we…are. Richard’s concern melted to fascination as the wall ahead split down the middle with a bright green line and slowly parted both ways. Ahead, a paved road led straight down a desert landscape like the one outside. Like outside? Don’t be stupid. It is the outside, just…I guess in a parallel world? Being fresh out of the academy was still making it hard for Richard to process what he was seeing. But the PFC contained his awe as he and Dave retreated to Badger and drove through the opening.
As the portal closed behind them, a great density of adobe structures and other intricately-shaped buildings began to appear on either side. And though some human-looking people could now be seen walking the sidewalks, Richard had to blink a couple of times to remind himself of where he was as he saw—for instance—a tall, cherry pink-skinned woman walking what looked like a wobbling cylinder of fabric. A couple of four-eyed beings like the recruit who’d been standing next to Richard last week at the start of training stood by a corner, flipping through what looked like possible notes. However, when they saw the Badger—which Dave had now fully exposed the true form of by deactivating the dusty pickup disguise from earlier—drive by, these two quickly put away their paper trophies and tried to move locations.
Shaking his head in yet another attempt to dismiss the biases and accept this as his new reality, Richard returned to full focus. All the while, the town area grew progressively busier, but not so much so that they were in an actual downtown hub. Much of the landscape still seemed quite suburban, as Richard had always thought of Albuquerque. “So who exactly are we looking for?”
“His name’s Taress Ogro Sgill,” Dave replied, tapping the screen on the dashboard to reveal a digital file. Richard was repelled by the guy whose mugshot he was looking at: Taress’ whole body was colored a dull silver, his eye sockets were big and sullen to the point that Richard thought the eyeballs might just roll out. Taress also had a crooked smile that looked like a skeleton’s and messy black hair like one of those greaser kids from the 60s.
“Taress is a Gyloxian drug addict,” Dave told Richard. “He was exiled from his homeworld in 2003 and arrived on Earth the following year. He’s one of those hard-liner addicts; we’re not sure what started the habit though. Initially, he kept to himself, but recent reports suggest he’s been going on a smash ‘n’ grab rampage, raiding stores all over the southwest to try and get something peachy. And he’s even assaulted other extraterrestrials—but thankfully not other humans—to steal prescribed drugs from their possession. I have social connections with members of the Albuquerque Community, and a friend of mine agreed to be an informant when Taress’ last known whereabouts placed him in this part of town.”
“Who’s your friend?” Richard asked just as pulled up by a double-story building with a barber pole.
“His name’s Antony,” Dave replied. “You pronounce it Anne-Tony, although he’s just as good with Tony as a nickname. Skilled barber, gives the best haircuts for the cheapest price this side of town.”
“Cool,” Richard replied as they parked.
“And because we’re in extraterrestrial territory, you don’t need to hide your identity or change your name. It’s only mandatory when there’s a bunch more human witnesses around.”
That relieved Richard somewhat because, despite the week-long training course, he still didn’t quite feel comfortable lying about his identity just yet. As Richard reached for the zip-up case holding his XT-5 in the backseat, Dave held his hand back briefly, adding, “Not now. The locals here are quite friendly, but they hate seeing gun-toters in their town.”
“So just be a beat cop then,” Richard clarified, trying to figure out the parameters of his task.
“Exactly: smile gently, keep your hands and your body loose, and be social,” Dave replied. “Trust me, if you start carrying weapons around and using the wariness the Army taught you to have in enemy territory in these neighborhoods, you’ll definitely stand out as the unwelcome visitor, and, worst-case scenario, you might draw hostile trouble your way.” Although not retrieving the rifle, Richard did still check to make sure his Stinger Wand, Shade Device, and Lancer Knife were carefully secured to his utility belt. His Guardian, meanwhile, was holstered against his thigh in the unlikely event of a hostile encounter while on the beat. “Remember, outside of limited contact with humanity in their own disguises, these people have very little exposure in their true form to real human beings. If we are to ever reach the point where humans and extraterrestrials can coexist peacefully without the secret, then we need them to see that we come in peace on their turf; just the same as we’d expect them to in our societies.”
“Got it, sir.”
Sliding out of the vehicle, Richard spotted a couple of young teens, one with swaying dreadlocks coming off the back of his head and the other with unique eight-shape pupils in his eyes, hanging around on the steps. The kids were looking at what appeared to be an old-school Gameboy before the device suddenly produced a hologram almost a third of Richard’s height, and a female being resembling Medusa began dancing around and using her lips to rap out a beat that the kids followed along with. This was accompanied by the tune of Darude’s Sandstorm in the background, which Richard vaguely remembered hearing at a disco event in college all those years ago.
The sudden surprise of this technology prompted a fascinated smile from Richard. As though to increase his comfort level, one of the boys gave him a human salute with his own grin that the ex-Ranger politely returned. Another one got down and did a classic breakdance head spin, and the top of his head opened up to reveal a bunch of small appendages that allowed him to easily twist upside down and not contact his skull or even primary hands with the ground.
Once inside the barber shop, Dave approached a tall and rather large male with dreadlocked hair on his shoulders behind a counter.
“Dave, bro’ what’s happening,” the man greeted.
The Sergeant Major responded with a firm handshake and a hug before adding, “Long time no see, brother Tony. How’s business been lately?”
“Oh y’know, the usual,” Tony replied, giving a so-so gesture with his hand. “Still got my local loyal customers, but can’t seem to attract any of the really handsome guys from downtown. Hello, who’s that though?” Tony was now pointing at Richard. “He one of your boys?”
“New to the force,” Dave replied with a smile. “Tony, I’d like you to meet my new partner, Richard Johnson. Just came tumbling out of the academy right into his first assignment today.”
“Pleasure to meet you, sir,” Richard replied, and Tony was surprised by the polite yet formal tone.
“Yo Dave, this kid’s tough. What is he, former military?”
“You’re close,” Richard replied, “Army Rangers.”
“Daaaamn,” Tony replied. “I hear they’re the roughest, toughest bunch in any part of this landmass.”
Richard would’ve loved to continue talking with the guy about his career experience, but Dave had to cut it short before asking, “Tony, you said you had some info to give us on our....friend.”
Tony got a little quieter now, and looked around at his customers before returning at a whisper, “I think you two better come to the backroom.”
He then looked down and replied, “Duplar, take over the shop while I’m gone.”
To Richard’s surprise, Tony’s head then came off his shoulders and the dreadlocks became little tentacles that allowed Tony to hop down off the desk and lead them to the backroom. A second head then grew out of Tony’s collar that looked a little tougher and not as friendly, soso Richard did everything he could not to stare. As soon as they were in the backroom, Tony scurried up onto his desk and immediately began using his hair tentacles to search through drawers and papers for something.
“You’ll have to pardon me,, brother,” Tony replied, “I haven’t cleaned this old shack up for weeks. Last time I was back here for any reason was maybe the previous month. Ah-ha, found you.”
One of Tony’s tentacles pulled out a small slip of paper that had glowing ink on it, but Richard couldn’t quite tell what it said.
“I wrote down a description and checked it with the info you’d given me,” Tony replied. “A couple of days ago, I saw this dude all clad in silver skin just outside my shop. At first, I thought it was just the damn bright sun reflecting off a shirt or something, but I glanced again, and he was covered from head to foot with silver. He wasn’t lookin’ at me, but I could tell the dude was shady - he was standing and swaying a little bit like he was drunk, then he skulked away. Later that night, I hear old KJ down on the corner got broken into. Some dude he later told me busted several cases of commonplace cigarettes and made off with the entire stash plus at least a dozen lighters.”
“Sounds like our guy,” Dave muttered, and Richard nodded.
“Then the dude shows up again, still not interested in my services, and the next night, I heard the backroom of Shakira’s Coffee got busted into. A week’s worth of caffeinated beverages gone; girl’s had to call in an extra order.”
“So we know he’s here in Albuquerque,” Richard replied, “and it sounds like he’s living local for now. Tony, do you have any idea where he could be residing?”
Tony looked up at the ceiling briefly in thought, but it didn’t take long for him to reply. “Shucks, I think he’s hidin’-out at them run-down shop fronts. The Stours I think it was.”
“Hang on, hang on,” Dave interrupted, a partially serious look on his face, “The Stours? I thought that place had been torn down.”
“Rumors I hear in the city council, but that’s just what they are. The place is still boarded up. Me and Duplar was walkin’ past that block about three days ago before the creep started showing up. I heard a crash of some kind, like a bunch of glass bottles or something, then some inaudible growling, but I didn’t dare go inside. Some of my friends tell me it’s haunted by the ghost of some drug lord, but I don’t believe none of that crap. But when these incidents started happenin’, I just figured it had to be the same guy.”
“How far away is that block from here?” Richard asked patiently.
“Maybe a couple blocks, three at most," Tony replied. "Just up the hill behind the shops here.”
“Thanks, brother, you’ve been very helpful,” Dave replied, briefly recovering his smile as the operatives turned to leave.
“So man,” Tony asked as Richard walked out, “any chance you’d want a haircut any time soon?”
“Maybe,” Richard replied, keeping a pleasant face despite being unsure about his answer. “I’ll think about it.”
As they got back into the car, Dave prodded Richard with, “So PFC, your first official close-encounter of the second kind. How was it?”
Richard leaned back a bit in thought as Dave turned the key in the ignition and did a thumbprint scan to confirm. The former Ranger then turned and smiled before replying, “I’m already starting to like this job.”