LOST AT HOME
It was cold as Mike Gill walked along the highway. His breath came out in plumes, barely visible in the star light. This far out of the Phoenix metro area the natural desert conditions took over. Without the works of Man to absorb the sunlight and retain heat, nighttime desert temperatures could reach down into the 20s. Mike pulled the sash of his overcoat tighter and shifted the knapsack on his back into a more comfortable position. Glancing up from the tarmac, he looked ahead at the Superstition Mountains. Although he’d been walking since yesterday, they still looked as far away as ever. Suddenly, there was a bright flaring of light over one of the peaks. It was unusual-looking, a swirling of blue that expanded and then contracted in on itself. From its heart, in the brief moment of its existence, a glowing yellow blob burst forth. The blob was moving in a downward trajectory, growing larger as it came towards him. Instincts honed from growing up in a world at war took over and he threw himself onto the ground. The light roared over him, crackling with energy, and slammed into the earth a few hundred yards back the way he had come. The shockwave from the impact jarred his bones as he lay there in the scrub that lined the I-10. He kept his head down until the noise subsided and then cautiously looked back over his shoulder. When he was certain nothing was moving around where whatever-it-was had crashed he cautiously got to his feet.
The craft, if that’s what it was, had come down a good ways from the highway. Mike struggled through tumbleweeds and dodged beds of prickly pear cactus as he made his way towards it. There was a faint glow from the crash site which quickly died, making it harder to find in the dark. Eventually, Mike found it the old-fashioned way by walking right into it. The vehicle was almost half-buried in the sand and it still radiated heat. Mike took a second to hold his hands out, absorbing the warmth right through his gloves. The vehicle was large and streamlined, with an odd manta ray shape to its wings. There weren’t any engine nozzles visible in the back and if it had any markings Mike couldn’t see them in the darkness. He unslung his bulging pack and rummaged around until he found his maglite. After twisting it on, he ran the beam up and down the side of the craft. Most of the paint was blistered, as if it had suffered intense heat effects. The only visible markings were an unusual rounded-off triangle symbol and the words U.S.S. OSPREY. Anything else written on it had been burned off.
“Some kind of sub-orbital scramjet?” Mike thought. “Air Force, probably, and an experimental model at that. It must have been using a booster rocket ‘cause there aint no engine that I can see. And those pontoons under the wings make me think it was s’posed to land on water.” He began looking for a way to open the tinted canopy window. “Whoever was flying this thing might be hurt,” he thought. “I’d better see if I can get them out of there.” He was frustrated in his efforts, though, as there didn’t seem to be any kind of release mechanism. He was considering smashing the windshield with a rock when the tail end of the craft began to hum. Alarmed, he stepped back from the vehicle. A moment later the back of the craft gave off a cheery yellowish light. Curiosity won out over fear and Mike crept around to the back to see what was causing the light.
The back of the vehicle had dropped down to act as a ramp and the light was coming from the interior. A Hispanic-looking woman lay crumpled on the ground where the ramp met the sand. Blood was slowly pooling by her head. Mike hurried over to her and crouched down. He dropped his pack next to her and pulled his first aid kit out. He tore open a wipe to clean out her wound and stuffed a gauze pad under the edge of his wool beanie so he could reach it swiftly. The blood was soaking into the sand almost immediately so he couldn’t tell how badly she was bleeding. With her face pointing away from the craft it was hard to make out details but she seemed to have a large gash on her forehead. Sticking the narrow maglite into his mouth, he dabbed at the wound with the antiseptic wipe. She moaned once, softly, as he worked. As soon as the excess blood was cleared he tossed the wipe and snatched the gauze pad from his hat to press against the wound. Working one-handed, he pinched a roll of surgical tape between his knees and tore off a strip. Once he’d gotten the first strip across the bandage things went easier. He swiftly secured it with two more strips of tape. A cursory examination showed that was the only obvious wound she had received. As he looked her over in the glow of his maglite he was struck by the unusual cut of her clothes. She had on a jumpsuit and jacket combination. The outfit looked like a uniform but the only insignia seemed to be a set of three shiny round buttons on her collar. The uniform itself was all in black and gray, with a hint of red at the collar. Just then there was a stutter of sparks and the light from the vehicle’s interior flickered and went out. He pointed his maglite back into the craft. At the top of the ramp lay another figure, a man. Mike didn’t need to go check on him. In this Year of Our Lord 2053 most of the people left alive could spot the signs of death swiftly from long years of practice. Mike Gill was no different. He knew the guy couldn’t have survived in that position. His neck was undoubtedly snapped. As he turned back to the woman his beam passed over the discarded wipe. Startled, he then pointed it at the bandage on her face. With an inarticulate cry he dropped the maglite and scrambled backwards, trying to get away from her. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed. “It’s green!”
From ten feet away Mike stared at the woman, panting hard. He pulled his beanie off and ran a shaking hand through his hair. “Her blood is green!” his mind gibbered at him. “Who has green blood?” At that moment the woman moaned again. Stirring slightly, her hand went to the bandage on her forehead. Her eyes flickered open.
“Is anybody there?” Her voice was almost melodic in tone. “Its too dark, I can’t see you. Can you help me? My head is killing me. I think I have a concussion.” From the glow of the dropped maglite Mike could see her fingers gingerly probe the bandage. “Nice field dressing. Could you help me up? I’m not sure I can stand on my own.” Mike put his hat back on. He slipped the .38 out of his ankle holster and eased forward to within a few feet of her. He kept the pistol covering her the whole time. “Is that a weapon?” she asked. “I don’t think you need it. I’m not in any shape to go pon farr on you.” She chuckled and then winced in pain.
Mike couldn’t help himself. “Pon what?” he blurted out.
“Never mind,” she replied. “Could you help me sit up at least? And you can put that weapon away. I couldn’t hurt you if I wanted to. Which I don’t.” Mike reached over to the maglite and shined it on the crumpled wipe.
“Your blood is green,” he said accusatorily. “Where did you get green blood?”
“From my mother,” she quipped. “Why, you don’t like green? What’s going on here? Are you going to leave me lying here or are you going to help me?” She sounded a little irked to Mike. Reluctantly, he pocketed the pistol and helped ease her into a sitting position. She immediately bent over and puked. “Yeah, I’d say that’s a concussion. There’s a med kit strapped to the left bulkhead. Could you get it for me, please?” Mike headed into the craft, stepping over the dead man. He found a steel box with a caduceus strapped to the wall and pulled it down. As he was exiting he caught a glimpse of the corpse in his light and nearly stumbled down the ramp.
“Th-that man, he-he-he’s blue!” The med kit remained in his hands, forgotten. She gently pulled it free and began rummaging around in it. Finding what she needed, she pressed a cylinder to her neck. It hissed softly and she sighed with relief.
“Yeah,” she said sarcastically, “Most Bolians are. Poor Hendra! He must have been thrown against the injector controls when we crashed. I saw he was dead when I exited the flyer.” Mike gaped at her, eyes wide.
“W-who are you people?” The shock in his voice was evident. “Your blood is green, he’s got blue skin, who are you people?!?” Mike was on the verge of panic.
“Sorry,” the woman said, “Where are my manners? I’m Lt. Commander T’Ela Martinez and that was Lt. Hendra Ra. We’re from the Starfleet testing facility out of White Sands. Something went wrong with our test flight and we lost control of the Osprey, there, and crashed. And who are you, that you’ve never seen a Bolian?”
“Lady, uh, Ms. Martinez, my name is Mike Gill and I know that White Sands is an Air Force base. I aint never heard of no ‘Starfleet’ and I sure as hell never heard of anything called a ‘Bolian’. You are starting to freak me out.” His voice quavered a little bit as he said this.
Martinez sat quiet for a few moments and then, in a soft, even voice, she asked, “Mike, could you point that light at yourself for a moment? I’d like to see who rescued me.” There was an odd note as she spoke that Mike couldn’t put his finger on but he did as she requested. He was careful to keep the light out of his eyes so he wouldn’t mess up his night vision. He heard her give a tiny gasp. “Mike, I think I got messed up in the crash worse than I first thought. Could you tell me where we are and what the date is?”
Mike pointed the light back in her general direction. “We’re about seven miles west of the Superstitions. Today is July second, no, wait, its after midnight. July third.”
“The Superstitions means we came down in Arizona, not far from Phoenix.” She seemed to almost be talking to herself. “Mike, this is going to sound weird but what year is it?”
When he answered, “2053” all of the color drained from her face. He thought she was going to pass out again. She moaned and hugged the medical kit to her breast, rocking slightly. ”What am I going to do?” she muttered, “I don’t know what to do.” Tears slowly traced down her face. Despite being freaked out by her and her dead companion Mike’s heart went out to her. She seemed absolutely devastated. He wondered if shock was setting in. “July 3rd, 2053. July 3rd, 2053.” She kept muttering it over and over, her teeth chattering. Mike realized she was probably getting cold in the night air.
“Do you happen to have a jacket in that ship of yours? Its pretty brisk out here.” She didn’t respond. She just kept muttering and rocking back and forth. Shrugging, he made his way into the Osprey. He pulled open a locker and found several hand-held computers of an unfamiliar make, along with a brace of strange pistols. He put all of this on the floor of the craft and pulled open another locker. It held what looked like pressure suits. The third one had parkas and gloves as well as insulated pants. He grabbed a pair of the gloves and one of the jackets and, gathering up the strange equipment, he headed back out. The guns and computers went into his pack. He had to pry the medical kit out of her arms in order to get the jacket on her. That went into the pack also. By the time he was ready for the gloves she’d pulled herself together enough to help.
“We need to close up the Osprey. I can’t have anyone stumbling across it. Where do you suggest we go from here? Back to Phoenix?” Martinez seemed almost determined now. “No, we can’t go to Phoenix. Easier to just shoot ourselves in the head. Quicker and cleaner. So where to, my new friend?” Mike was a bit taken aback by her sudden turn-around.
“Well, uh, I have some friends who run a sort of commune up in the mountains. I was on my way there when I found you. What do you mean, we can’t go to Phoenix? That was a weird thing to say.” He peered at her as he helped her up. Her face took on an evasive look.
“Let’s just say your friends’ commune in the mountains sounds ideal.” She walked over to the Osprey and did something to a panel inside the entrance. The ramp raised up and sealed shut. “Lead the way, Mike. You think we can make it to this place by six tomorrow?”
“Um, yeah, if we start walking and pretty much don’t stop we can be there by noon. You still haven’t answered my questions, though. Why was you friend blue? Why do you have green blood? And what was that about dying in Phoenix?” He was growing impatient with her, she could tell.
“Look, Mike, if we can start walking I’ll tell you what I can. There are rules to what I can say, though, and you have to trust me that they exist for a reason. If I say I can’t answer one of your questions-I can’t. Fair enough?” She looked into his face earnestly, waiting for his reply. He nodded curtly and shrugged into his pack. Turning away towards the I-10, he began to walk. She hurriedly caught up. “See, Mike, things are complicated for me. This,” she waved her arm to take in the surrounding desert, “Is all new to me. Which is ironic, because I actually grew up in Tempe.” She giggled and if there was a faint hint of hysteria in it Mike chose to ignore it. “Ask your questions and I’ll tell you what I can.”
Mike looked at her as they marched along. “What’s up with the blue guy?”
“Would you believe me if I told you he was an alien from outer space? That’s just the way his people look.” She watched him carefully as she said this. He looked lost in thought for a while. Then he nodded.
“Ok, he’s an alien. So what’s your story? Are you an alien too?” He sounded more curious than afraid. Martinez considered for a moment before replying.
“Well, my last name is Martinez and I grew up in Tempe, Arizona. I suspect you are referring to the green blood, correct?” At his nod she sighed. “My dad was an engineer in San Francisco when he was younger. He met my mother at Fisherman’s Wharf. She worked at a diplomatic consulate. Her people are known as the Vulcans. Their home world circles a different sun. In about ten years one of their ships is going to land on Earth and make First Contact with humanity.” She waited for his reaction.
“Ok, you’re half alien. You said ten years from now. You know something about the future. What else do you know? Something to do with Phoenix, I’d guess. And the date shocked you silly. What’s so special about July 3rd, 2053?” He spoke a bit sharper than he intended and she drew away from him a little.
After a moment she shrugged. “I guess it can’t hurt to tell you. I told you I grew up in this region. It would have been more accurate to say I will grow up around here. In about three hundred and thirty years or so. And July 3rd, 2053 means nothing to me.”
Mike caught the peculiar emphasis she put on “July 3rd”. “So why did you sit there repeating it over and over?”
“Let me ask you something. What’s happening with the war between the Econ and the New United Nations?”
Mike grinned. “We’ve been fighting this thing since the year I was born, on again and off again. After twenty-seven years it looks like the Econ is about to collapse. Could happen any day now.” He seemed pleased at the prospect.
Martinez shook her head gloomily. “The war isn’t going to end like you think, Mike. I’m sorry, but that’s why we need to get to your friends’ commune in the mountains. We’ll be safe there. See, I wasn’t lying. July third means nothing to me. Every schoolchild in my time knows what happened, what will happen on July 4th, 2053 at six o’clock pacific time, though. Driven to desperation, the Econ will launch an all-out nuclear attack against the West. The West will respond. Six hundred million people will die tomorrow. One of the missiles that leaks through the defensive umbrella will hit Palo Verde nuclear power plant west of Phoenix.”
Mike stopped dead in his tracks. “We gotta go back and tell someone!”
“No!” Martinez’s voice cracked out over the desert. “I can’t be responsible for changing history! Our best bet is to hide out in the mountains until the radiation dies down. Then I can look over my ship and see if I can find a way home.” Mike looked at her in disgust.
“You’d let all of those people die-“ he sneered.
“I have to. I grew up in Tempe because my father worked on the Palo Verde Reclamation Project. I change things-I could cease to exist!” she was crying now. This gave Mike pause as he absorbed what she’d said. “Mike, I’m not sure what to do. I’ve never been stuck in the past before. I just know I have to avoid changing things. Please try to understand!” The tears were flowing freely down her face and Mike realized she wasn’t any older than him. Younger, even. He put his arm around her shoulder and patted her awkwardly on the back.
Staring off in the direction of the doomed city, Mike reflected on what she’d said. He thought of the clean lines of the Osprey and the lack of visible engines. Great advances would come in the future. And this pretty, young pilot who’s mother came from another world. A co-pilot from still another world. They were all obviously the end-products of some vast confederation of some sort. He thought of what she’d said about aliens landing ten years from now. Lifting her chin gently, he said, “C’mon, let’s go find my friends. The future can be what it needs to be.” He smiled at her in the early morning twilight. Her tentative smile in reply lifted some of the darkness and sorrow in his heart. They turned back towards the mountains and continued walking as the sun started to rise.
It was cold as Mike Gill walked along the highway. His breath came out in plumes, barely visible in the star light. This far out of the Phoenix metro area the natural desert conditions took over. Without the works of Man to absorb the sunlight and retain heat, nighttime desert temperatures could reach down into the 20s. Mike pulled the sash of his overcoat tighter and shifted the knapsack on his back into a more comfortable position. Glancing up from the tarmac, he looked ahead at the Superstition Mountains. Although he’d been walking since yesterday, they still looked as far away as ever. Suddenly, there was a bright flaring of light over one of the peaks. It was unusual-looking, a swirling of blue that expanded and then contracted in on itself. From its heart, in the brief moment of its existence, a glowing yellow blob burst forth. The blob was moving in a downward trajectory, growing larger as it came towards him. Instincts honed from growing up in a world at war took over and he threw himself onto the ground. The light roared over him, crackling with energy, and slammed into the earth a few hundred yards back the way he had come. The shockwave from the impact jarred his bones as he lay there in the scrub that lined the I-10. He kept his head down until the noise subsided and then cautiously looked back over his shoulder. When he was certain nothing was moving around where whatever-it-was had crashed he cautiously got to his feet.
The craft, if that’s what it was, had come down a good ways from the highway. Mike struggled through tumbleweeds and dodged beds of prickly pear cactus as he made his way towards it. There was a faint glow from the crash site which quickly died, making it harder to find in the dark. Eventually, Mike found it the old-fashioned way by walking right into it. The vehicle was almost half-buried in the sand and it still radiated heat. Mike took a second to hold his hands out, absorbing the warmth right through his gloves. The vehicle was large and streamlined, with an odd manta ray shape to its wings. There weren’t any engine nozzles visible in the back and if it had any markings Mike couldn’t see them in the darkness. He unslung his bulging pack and rummaged around until he found his maglite. After twisting it on, he ran the beam up and down the side of the craft. Most of the paint was blistered, as if it had suffered intense heat effects. The only visible markings were an unusual rounded-off triangle symbol and the words U.S.S. OSPREY. Anything else written on it had been burned off.
“Some kind of sub-orbital scramjet?” Mike thought. “Air Force, probably, and an experimental model at that. It must have been using a booster rocket ‘cause there aint no engine that I can see. And those pontoons under the wings make me think it was s’posed to land on water.” He began looking for a way to open the tinted canopy window. “Whoever was flying this thing might be hurt,” he thought. “I’d better see if I can get them out of there.” He was frustrated in his efforts, though, as there didn’t seem to be any kind of release mechanism. He was considering smashing the windshield with a rock when the tail end of the craft began to hum. Alarmed, he stepped back from the vehicle. A moment later the back of the craft gave off a cheery yellowish light. Curiosity won out over fear and Mike crept around to the back to see what was causing the light.
The back of the vehicle had dropped down to act as a ramp and the light was coming from the interior. A Hispanic-looking woman lay crumpled on the ground where the ramp met the sand. Blood was slowly pooling by her head. Mike hurried over to her and crouched down. He dropped his pack next to her and pulled his first aid kit out. He tore open a wipe to clean out her wound and stuffed a gauze pad under the edge of his wool beanie so he could reach it swiftly. The blood was soaking into the sand almost immediately so he couldn’t tell how badly she was bleeding. With her face pointing away from the craft it was hard to make out details but she seemed to have a large gash on her forehead. Sticking the narrow maglite into his mouth, he dabbed at the wound with the antiseptic wipe. She moaned once, softly, as he worked. As soon as the excess blood was cleared he tossed the wipe and snatched the gauze pad from his hat to press against the wound. Working one-handed, he pinched a roll of surgical tape between his knees and tore off a strip. Once he’d gotten the first strip across the bandage things went easier. He swiftly secured it with two more strips of tape. A cursory examination showed that was the only obvious wound she had received. As he looked her over in the glow of his maglite he was struck by the unusual cut of her clothes. She had on a jumpsuit and jacket combination. The outfit looked like a uniform but the only insignia seemed to be a set of three shiny round buttons on her collar. The uniform itself was all in black and gray, with a hint of red at the collar. Just then there was a stutter of sparks and the light from the vehicle’s interior flickered and went out. He pointed his maglite back into the craft. At the top of the ramp lay another figure, a man. Mike didn’t need to go check on him. In this Year of Our Lord 2053 most of the people left alive could spot the signs of death swiftly from long years of practice. Mike Gill was no different. He knew the guy couldn’t have survived in that position. His neck was undoubtedly snapped. As he turned back to the woman his beam passed over the discarded wipe. Startled, he then pointed it at the bandage on her face. With an inarticulate cry he dropped the maglite and scrambled backwards, trying to get away from her. “Holy shit!” he exclaimed. “It’s green!”
From ten feet away Mike stared at the woman, panting hard. He pulled his beanie off and ran a shaking hand through his hair. “Her blood is green!” his mind gibbered at him. “Who has green blood?” At that moment the woman moaned again. Stirring slightly, her hand went to the bandage on her forehead. Her eyes flickered open.
“Is anybody there?” Her voice was almost melodic in tone. “Its too dark, I can’t see you. Can you help me? My head is killing me. I think I have a concussion.” From the glow of the dropped maglite Mike could see her fingers gingerly probe the bandage. “Nice field dressing. Could you help me up? I’m not sure I can stand on my own.” Mike put his hat back on. He slipped the .38 out of his ankle holster and eased forward to within a few feet of her. He kept the pistol covering her the whole time. “Is that a weapon?” she asked. “I don’t think you need it. I’m not in any shape to go pon farr on you.” She chuckled and then winced in pain.
Mike couldn’t help himself. “Pon what?” he blurted out.
“Never mind,” she replied. “Could you help me sit up at least? And you can put that weapon away. I couldn’t hurt you if I wanted to. Which I don’t.” Mike reached over to the maglite and shined it on the crumpled wipe.
“Your blood is green,” he said accusatorily. “Where did you get green blood?”
“From my mother,” she quipped. “Why, you don’t like green? What’s going on here? Are you going to leave me lying here or are you going to help me?” She sounded a little irked to Mike. Reluctantly, he pocketed the pistol and helped ease her into a sitting position. She immediately bent over and puked. “Yeah, I’d say that’s a concussion. There’s a med kit strapped to the left bulkhead. Could you get it for me, please?” Mike headed into the craft, stepping over the dead man. He found a steel box with a caduceus strapped to the wall and pulled it down. As he was exiting he caught a glimpse of the corpse in his light and nearly stumbled down the ramp.
“Th-that man, he-he-he’s blue!” The med kit remained in his hands, forgotten. She gently pulled it free and began rummaging around in it. Finding what she needed, she pressed a cylinder to her neck. It hissed softly and she sighed with relief.
“Yeah,” she said sarcastically, “Most Bolians are. Poor Hendra! He must have been thrown against the injector controls when we crashed. I saw he was dead when I exited the flyer.” Mike gaped at her, eyes wide.
“W-who are you people?” The shock in his voice was evident. “Your blood is green, he’s got blue skin, who are you people?!?” Mike was on the verge of panic.
“Sorry,” the woman said, “Where are my manners? I’m Lt. Commander T’Ela Martinez and that was Lt. Hendra Ra. We’re from the Starfleet testing facility out of White Sands. Something went wrong with our test flight and we lost control of the Osprey, there, and crashed. And who are you, that you’ve never seen a Bolian?”
“Lady, uh, Ms. Martinez, my name is Mike Gill and I know that White Sands is an Air Force base. I aint never heard of no ‘Starfleet’ and I sure as hell never heard of anything called a ‘Bolian’. You are starting to freak me out.” His voice quavered a little bit as he said this.
Martinez sat quiet for a few moments and then, in a soft, even voice, she asked, “Mike, could you point that light at yourself for a moment? I’d like to see who rescued me.” There was an odd note as she spoke that Mike couldn’t put his finger on but he did as she requested. He was careful to keep the light out of his eyes so he wouldn’t mess up his night vision. He heard her give a tiny gasp. “Mike, I think I got messed up in the crash worse than I first thought. Could you tell me where we are and what the date is?”
Mike pointed the light back in her general direction. “We’re about seven miles west of the Superstitions. Today is July second, no, wait, its after midnight. July third.”
“The Superstitions means we came down in Arizona, not far from Phoenix.” She seemed to almost be talking to herself. “Mike, this is going to sound weird but what year is it?”
When he answered, “2053” all of the color drained from her face. He thought she was going to pass out again. She moaned and hugged the medical kit to her breast, rocking slightly. ”What am I going to do?” she muttered, “I don’t know what to do.” Tears slowly traced down her face. Despite being freaked out by her and her dead companion Mike’s heart went out to her. She seemed absolutely devastated. He wondered if shock was setting in. “July 3rd, 2053. July 3rd, 2053.” She kept muttering it over and over, her teeth chattering. Mike realized she was probably getting cold in the night air.
“Do you happen to have a jacket in that ship of yours? Its pretty brisk out here.” She didn’t respond. She just kept muttering and rocking back and forth. Shrugging, he made his way into the Osprey. He pulled open a locker and found several hand-held computers of an unfamiliar make, along with a brace of strange pistols. He put all of this on the floor of the craft and pulled open another locker. It held what looked like pressure suits. The third one had parkas and gloves as well as insulated pants. He grabbed a pair of the gloves and one of the jackets and, gathering up the strange equipment, he headed back out. The guns and computers went into his pack. He had to pry the medical kit out of her arms in order to get the jacket on her. That went into the pack also. By the time he was ready for the gloves she’d pulled herself together enough to help.
“We need to close up the Osprey. I can’t have anyone stumbling across it. Where do you suggest we go from here? Back to Phoenix?” Martinez seemed almost determined now. “No, we can’t go to Phoenix. Easier to just shoot ourselves in the head. Quicker and cleaner. So where to, my new friend?” Mike was a bit taken aback by her sudden turn-around.
“Well, uh, I have some friends who run a sort of commune up in the mountains. I was on my way there when I found you. What do you mean, we can’t go to Phoenix? That was a weird thing to say.” He peered at her as he helped her up. Her face took on an evasive look.
“Let’s just say your friends’ commune in the mountains sounds ideal.” She walked over to the Osprey and did something to a panel inside the entrance. The ramp raised up and sealed shut. “Lead the way, Mike. You think we can make it to this place by six tomorrow?”
“Um, yeah, if we start walking and pretty much don’t stop we can be there by noon. You still haven’t answered my questions, though. Why was you friend blue? Why do you have green blood? And what was that about dying in Phoenix?” He was growing impatient with her, she could tell.
“Look, Mike, if we can start walking I’ll tell you what I can. There are rules to what I can say, though, and you have to trust me that they exist for a reason. If I say I can’t answer one of your questions-I can’t. Fair enough?” She looked into his face earnestly, waiting for his reply. He nodded curtly and shrugged into his pack. Turning away towards the I-10, he began to walk. She hurriedly caught up. “See, Mike, things are complicated for me. This,” she waved her arm to take in the surrounding desert, “Is all new to me. Which is ironic, because I actually grew up in Tempe.” She giggled and if there was a faint hint of hysteria in it Mike chose to ignore it. “Ask your questions and I’ll tell you what I can.”
Mike looked at her as they marched along. “What’s up with the blue guy?”
“Would you believe me if I told you he was an alien from outer space? That’s just the way his people look.” She watched him carefully as she said this. He looked lost in thought for a while. Then he nodded.
“Ok, he’s an alien. So what’s your story? Are you an alien too?” He sounded more curious than afraid. Martinez considered for a moment before replying.
“Well, my last name is Martinez and I grew up in Tempe, Arizona. I suspect you are referring to the green blood, correct?” At his nod she sighed. “My dad was an engineer in San Francisco when he was younger. He met my mother at Fisherman’s Wharf. She worked at a diplomatic consulate. Her people are known as the Vulcans. Their home world circles a different sun. In about ten years one of their ships is going to land on Earth and make First Contact with humanity.” She waited for his reaction.
“Ok, you’re half alien. You said ten years from now. You know something about the future. What else do you know? Something to do with Phoenix, I’d guess. And the date shocked you silly. What’s so special about July 3rd, 2053?” He spoke a bit sharper than he intended and she drew away from him a little.
After a moment she shrugged. “I guess it can’t hurt to tell you. I told you I grew up in this region. It would have been more accurate to say I will grow up around here. In about three hundred and thirty years or so. And July 3rd, 2053 means nothing to me.”
Mike caught the peculiar emphasis she put on “July 3rd”. “So why did you sit there repeating it over and over?”
“Let me ask you something. What’s happening with the war between the Econ and the New United Nations?”
Mike grinned. “We’ve been fighting this thing since the year I was born, on again and off again. After twenty-seven years it looks like the Econ is about to collapse. Could happen any day now.” He seemed pleased at the prospect.
Martinez shook her head gloomily. “The war isn’t going to end like you think, Mike. I’m sorry, but that’s why we need to get to your friends’ commune in the mountains. We’ll be safe there. See, I wasn’t lying. July third means nothing to me. Every schoolchild in my time knows what happened, what will happen on July 4th, 2053 at six o’clock pacific time, though. Driven to desperation, the Econ will launch an all-out nuclear attack against the West. The West will respond. Six hundred million people will die tomorrow. One of the missiles that leaks through the defensive umbrella will hit Palo Verde nuclear power plant west of Phoenix.”
Mike stopped dead in his tracks. “We gotta go back and tell someone!”
“No!” Martinez’s voice cracked out over the desert. “I can’t be responsible for changing history! Our best bet is to hide out in the mountains until the radiation dies down. Then I can look over my ship and see if I can find a way home.” Mike looked at her in disgust.
“You’d let all of those people die-“ he sneered.
“I have to. I grew up in Tempe because my father worked on the Palo Verde Reclamation Project. I change things-I could cease to exist!” she was crying now. This gave Mike pause as he absorbed what she’d said. “Mike, I’m not sure what to do. I’ve never been stuck in the past before. I just know I have to avoid changing things. Please try to understand!” The tears were flowing freely down her face and Mike realized she wasn’t any older than him. Younger, even. He put his arm around her shoulder and patted her awkwardly on the back.
Staring off in the direction of the doomed city, Mike reflected on what she’d said. He thought of the clean lines of the Osprey and the lack of visible engines. Great advances would come in the future. And this pretty, young pilot who’s mother came from another world. A co-pilot from still another world. They were all obviously the end-products of some vast confederation of some sort. He thought of what she’d said about aliens landing ten years from now. Lifting her chin gently, he said, “C’mon, let’s go find my friends. The future can be what it needs to be.” He smiled at her in the early morning twilight. Her tentative smile in reply lifted some of the darkness and sorrow in his heart. They turned back towards the mountains and continued walking as the sun started to rise.
