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You just got promoted! “Congratulations!” everyone in your squadron had said. Captain of the US Navy. But you soon found out you hadn’t been promoted to do anything interesting. You were to spend the first six months as captain assisting the Air Boss in the hell that is southern California in the summer. Awful, you thought, until you met the man. He was unusually hot for a man over 50. Just like the weather. You found yourself wishing the navy had shirtless uniforms for more than one reason. He probably wasn’t even gay, but you certainly were.
The first day of work was one of the least eventful days in your entire career. For years you’d been getting out of bed to go on exercises, to be yelled at, to go to war and to fly. Today you got out of bed to go to the office. Sighing heavily, you turned away from the road towards the hangars and towards the office buildings housing the vice admiral and his staff.
You entered Vice Admiral Simpson’s office where you found him shuffling a pile of papers.
“Mornin’,” he said.
“Good morning, sir!”
The admiral looked up at you and sipped his coffee (sexily). “Good to know the navy still makes captains with respect for authority.”
What the fuck was he talking about? No, it wasn’t your place to ask. This sounded like a problem that had nothing to do with you.
“Here, take a look at this,” he said and handed you a fairly long report.
“Do you want me to read it right now?.. sir.”
“Yes.” Admiral Simpson looked at you like you were an idiot for a second before his face returned to neutral. So you sat down to read.
Turns out the report wasn’t that long, only about 50 pages worth of text, but it contained quite a lot of photos. A familiar type of photos in fact. They were taken by navy fighter cameras out at sea. UAPs they call them, but most people still call them UFOs. The navy’s pilot was the single biggest source of authentic UAP footage in the western world. The report described a number of instances where the unknown object or phenomenon looked so similar that it was most likely the same or an identical copy. It was also unmistakably a physical object, and not just something strange happening in the clouds. Unlike what the public had access to the images were in high enough resolution that you tell individual sections of the object apart.
It looked not that dissimilar from a fighter jet if you really wanted to see it that way, but there were some key differences. The first was that it was white as a cloud in bright sunlight. The second was that it seemed to have three engines. The shapes of the craft were also far smoother than any you’d ever seen before. Like a fish swimming through the skies.
As you reached the end of the report you read a sentence that almost made you fall out of your chair: The foreign craft was successfully captured.
You looked up.
“Sir. Are you sure I have the proper security clearance for this?” you asked nervously.
“Next time you should ask that before you start reading… But yes. You have top secret clearance for this case and this case only.”
He got up from his very expensive and comfy looking office chair. “Come with me, I’m gonna show you what you’re here to assist me with.”
Was it something to do with the report you just read? Hopefully you didn’t have to sit and talk to analysts all day.
You went across the base and arrived at Hangar 19 and went in through a heavily guarded back door and down a set of stairs. At the bottom of a stairwell were two doors. One was unlabelled and the other said “19-1. Restricted Area” in bright yellow paint.
“Don’t forget this assignment is TOP SECRET. This way,” Simpson said and led you through the latter door. It opened into what looked like Hangar 19, but underground. In the middle of it was the strangest craft you had seen in the report, illuminated by floodlights on the ceiling.
You were speechless. This was what the crazy conspiracy theorists have been talking about the whole time!
“Very clever of you guys to trick everyone into thinking you kept the aliens in Area 51,” you said hopefully too quietly to hear.
You picked your jaw up off the floor and turned to Admiral Simpson. “What’s my job here, sir?”
“Straight to the point! I like that in a man. You’ll be supervising the crew taking this thing apart and you’ll report the results directly to me,” he instructed and gestured you to walk with him towards the exit, “the other door by the stairs leads to the office and breakroom. And… the biolab.”
“The what? Are you saying this thing was manned?”
“Not exactly. It had a pilot, but it wasn’t a man, or even a human.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but what the fuck?”
“I had that reaction too. Just make sure they don’t let anything out of here.”
“Yes, sir.”
Things had gone surprisingly smoothly for about a week and a half until one of the scientists from the biolab had walked up to you and recommended you start carrying a gun to work. When you asked why they told you the creature they were keeping was growing restless. Scary. You had only visited the biolab a few times and it had looked calm every time.
On a much less worrying note you’d gotten on pretty good terms with your new boss. He had a reputation for being quite stern with his subordinates, even officers like you, but it wasn’t that bad once you got to know him. He'd even stopped looking at you weird, when you forgot to say 'sir'.
It turns out he just wanted people to do what they were told, no more and no less, and without too much protesting. Simple enough, you’d been doing that every day for years. He’d been visiting you in the basement underneath Hangar 19 more and more instead of waiting for you to deliver reports to his office. Yesterday he even brought you a coffee.
Today he bought you an incredibly delicious imported bottle of ice cold chocolate milk labeled Cocio. You don’t know where he got it and the ingredients list was in a language you didn’t understand. Perhaps being admiral meant getting access to secret specialist shops.
He looked unusually happy.
“You look cheerful today, sir, did something happen?” you asked.
His face lit up. “Yes! We finally cleared our F-35s of all major problems. And call me Cyclone, please.”
"Alright… Cyclone. Are you gonna go take one out for a ride?" you said.
"I don't have time for that unfortunately. There's a lot of work to do as vice admiral. Speaking of… I'm here to check on progress in the biolab."
You left your office and went down the hallway to the lab. It was the last room and locked behind two airtight blast doors. You swiped your card and went through. Behind the second blast door was a third door, this one glass. It had cracks in it.
"Oh shit," you muttered.
"This wasn't there yesterday?" Cyclone asked.
"No."
You cautiously and quietly went through the glass door. The lab was quiet and empty where it should have been bustling with activity. Papers were strewn across the floor, but nothing else seemed broken.
Halfway into the lab you spotted the first motionless body. “Maybe we should call for backup," you suggested.
"Good idea."
The lights went off and small red emergency lamps turned on. It didn't take your eyes long to get used to the low light, but it evidently wasn't the case for your superior. He walked into a table and tripped over a chair, falling straight into your arms.
"Be careful, sir," you said, trying to ignore the heat rising to your face.
"Right, thank you," he said.
You heard a noise in the direction of the door.
"What was that?" Cyclone whispered.
Before you could come up with a response someone started talking in a voice that sounded both ordinary and inhuman at the same time. At first it spoke a language you didn't understand, but then it switched to broken English.
"Human where light button."
"What?" Cyclone asked.
"Oooohhh you are there!" The voice was closer this time.
You grabbed Cyclone's arm and dragged him towards the back of the room.
It was the alien who had escaped their cell. You could see them in the dim light. They were smaller than most humans, with slim limbs and a bald head. They apparently couldn't see you. They were searching around the area you had just been standing in.
"Pretty human, where are you?"
"Do you think it's talking about you or me?" Cyclone whispered.
How do you even respond to that? The alien had never tried communicating with you before or even pretended to be interested. So maybe they just had as good a taste in human men as you did?
“Uh,” was all you managed.
“Shh! Or it’ll find us!”
“Sorry.”
The alien crept closer to your location and the two of you tried to quietly sneak further away. Unfortunately your path was blocked by a large file cabinet and two turned over office chairs on top of each other. So you backed as far into the corner between the file cabinet and the wall and hoped the alien would go somewhere else. Unfortunately you backed right into a light switch and half the lights in the room turned back on.
You could now see the alien clearly. Its skin was iridescent purple and its eyes pitch black. It didn’t seem to be wearing anything.
“Oh! There you are!” the alien exclaimed and pointed in your general direction. “Pretty human, should come with me to my ship!”
You looked at each and then back at the alien.
“Who do you mean?” you asked instead of doing something sensible, like running away.
The alien walked closer to you. With your backs against the wall there was nowhere for you to run. “You,” they said and poked Cyclone in the chest, “we marriage.”
Cyclone didn’t respond. He looked like he was going to combust. Some quick thinking was needed to get out of this one.
“Oh he can’t, he already has a boyfriend!” you exclaimed. First thing you could think of. The alien looked confused for a moment and then devastated.
“No. I see no boyfriend.”
“It’s me! I’m the boyfriend. See!” you said while grabbing Cyclone’s hand and holding up it for the alien to see.
The alien let out a hideous scream and kicked a chair. Then they pointed right at you. Their finger started to glow and within seconds it was shooting a beam of light from the tip. To your surprise Cyclone jumped in front of you to shield you from whatever effect the beam would have. The alien screamed again and immediately ceased their attack. Meanwhile Cyclone collapsed into your arms.
You gently lowered Cyclone to the floor. “Sir? Hey! Wake up!” You shook him awkwardly and he awoke.
“What am I doing on the floor?!” he yelled and quickly sat up to look around, “no nevermind, where is that son of a bitch?”
You looked around. The alien was no longer in the room and the door was open. “Gone, sir.” Quite frankly, you weren’t too concerned about the alien right this second. Your boss has just blocked a freaky alien laser beam with his own body, not knowing what it would do.
Cyclone alerted base command as soon as you left the lab. “We have to find that thing, before it runs off and reveals itself to the public. The whole city would be swarming with sickos in a matter of hours!” he said.
Right now all of North Island was swarming with military police and soldiers looking for a little gray alien. You and Cyclone had gone back to Cyclone’s office to alert the COMPACFLT and then the president. It didn’t sound like a pleasant phone call, but at least it was quick.
“What now, sir?” you asked.
Cyclone let out a deep sigh. The kind that only happens when you’ve just dropped a pot of stew on your dining room carpet. “There’s no way I’m not getting fire over this,” he said and sank deeper into his office chair than you thought possible.
“Before you worry about that, don’t you think you should get your back checked out? See if that weird beam did anything?” you said. You had not stopped thinking about it this entire time. “Thank you for doing that by the way.”
That brought a smile to his face and he perked right back up. “You’re welcome! And I’m fine, don’t worry about me. It barely even hurt.”
“Barely? I think you should get it checked anyway,” you said and got out of the guest chair, “come on, I’ll walk you there.”
“You know I’m your commanding officer, right?” Cyclone said as he got up and followed you out into the hallway. He didn’t sound even remotely serious so you elected to reply with a laugh.
On your way to the parking lot you noticed the distinct sound of disco coming from a nearby building. Normally this would be tasteful behavior for a military base, but right now the entire area was supposed to be locked down. Cyclone groaned and changed direction.
The music was coming from a lounge just to the left of the entrance. Cyclone entered first, ready to scold whoever wasn’t following protocol, but lo and behold it was no employee. It was the alien! Dancing to Abba.
As soon as they saw you standing in the doorway they launched at you with a scream. They weren’t very fast though, so you land a solid hit that almost knocks them out. As you and Cyclone moved to apprehend the alien, they staggered to their feet and jumped out the window.
“After it!” Cyclone yelled.
“On it!” You turned and sprinted back out the building, while Cyclone followed the fugitive out the window.
Outside you saw Cyclone get out of the wilted flower bed he had landed in and chase after the alien, only to be interrupted by a sight that most conspiracy theorists can only dream of: The alien was suspended in midair by a beam of light coming from above. You looked up. If the UFO you had seen beneath the hangar was a fish in the sky, this was more like a whale. There was no way most of San Diego couldn’t see it.
“THANK YOU FOR APPREHENDING SPLORK, NOTORIOUS TAX FRAUDSTER IN OUR PLANETARY NETWORK. YOU MAY KEEP THE VESSEL AS COMPENSATION FOR ANY NUISANCE.”
The voice blasted across the base louder than a foghorn in a peculiar accent. With no further comments the beam of light sucked the alien up into the spacecraft and disappeared. You quickly snapped a picture with your work phone before the spacecraft disappeared as well.
You looked to the left at your boss. He looked like he wanted to sink into the ground and beat up the devil himself. He sighed deeply, brushed the dirt off his shirt and turned to you.
“Do you wanna go out for dinner tonight?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Maybe the boyfriend title would stick.