Harry Truman vs the Aliens by Emerson LaSalle Page B

felt Hardmann
bristle.
    “Sir. Mr. President.” The scientist
had a three-day beard and bags under his eyes big enough to pack
for a world cruise. “I’m Dr. Starke, lead researcher for Project
Cosmos.”
    “Let’s just go ahead and shitcan any
and all pleasantries and formalities, Doctor,” Truman said. “Show
me what you’ve got, make it fast, and keep it in layman’s
terms.”
    “Right.” Starke gestured for Truman to
follow as he walked toward the spacecraft. “In the last twenty-four
hours there’s been a change in the captured spacecraft. We also
have some alarming sightings from the Cal Tech observatory. Taken
together we’ve been able to extrapolate a scenario that paints a
rather alarming picture.”
    Truman followed Starke toward the
Spaceship. He could feel the crowd behind him, the Secret Service
and the other scientists. He was the center attraction of this
three-ring circus now. Well, he was used to it. He was the
President.
    They arrived at the ship were Starke
showed him a blinking red light in the alien cockpit. A high
pitched beep corresponded with each blink. “This light started
blinking at thirty-two blinks per minute. It’s now blinking at a
hundred and fifty-eight blinks per minute and is still
increasing.”
    Starke held out a hand and snapped his
fingers. A young tech immediately stepped forward and handed him a
large manila envelope.
    Starke took a series of enlarged,
black and white photos and shuffled through them as he spoke.
“These shots were taken through the big telescope at Cal Tech. If
you compare the hourly shots, you can clearly see an object moving
from deep space toward the earth. As it moves closer, the blinking
light in the spacecraft’s increases in rate. We’ve compared the two
phenomena and—”
    “Boil it down for me,” Truman
said.
    “The aliens are coming here, Mr.
President,” Starke said. “And they’re on their way right
now.”
    An absolute silence fell over the
place – except for the beeping red light which even as Truman stood
trying to absorb the news increased in the rate of beeps and
blinks.
    The President sighed, looked up,
something catching his eye. He fixed his gaze on a steel girder
which hung on chains from a thick cable stretched across the
room.
    “What’s that for?”
    “What?” Starke looked up at the
girder. “Oh, yes. We’ve been trying to crack open the housing and
get at the components around the blinking light. We tried a blow
touch and a jackhammer. Nothing works. It was actually kind of
humorous. The girder is on a pulley, you see. A couple of fellows
would start at the other side of the room, and then run like a bat
out of hell, pushing the girder along the cable until it smacked
into the—”
    “I don’t really have time for this,
Doctor.”
    “Of course, Mr. President. My
apologies.”
    “So what the hell do the
bug-eyed bastards want ?” Truman asked.
    “Unknown,” Starke said.
    Deputy Chief of Staff Musgrave cleared
his throat, and all eyes turned to him.
    “Mr. President,” Musgrave said. “We
should consider the possibility that the aliens are friendly. For
all we know it’s a diplomatic envoy.”
    Every time that little tit Musgrave
talked, Truman wanted to punch him in the mouth. “And when do we
get to find that out, Musgrave? When they’re sitting in the White
House eating human brains off the good china?”
    Musgrave went red but wisely said
nothing.
    “I want the entire military and civil
defense put on alert,” Truman said. “Inform governors to call up
all their National Guard units. God in heaven knows how we’re going
to do this without panicking the public, but we can’t
wait—”
    A grating buzz on the wall interrupted
the President. In four quick strides, Starke across the room to the
squawk box on the wall. He flipped a switch, talked into the
speaker. “Starke here. What is it?”
    “This is Edwards control
tower,” squawked the speaker. “We have radar contact coming in