"Plus ca change, Plus c'est la meme chose..."
Alphonse Carr.
Then, Rush made it 'awesomeness.'
There was lowish oxygen in the saucer, so I asked if there was a climate-control guy or something. Three of the random greys answered at once, from three directions, that there was. (That was really weird.)
"Blinx, impilt sook pazar nint linik glurgen, Klargen."
"Very well. I want it 68 degrees, 7% oxygen, and I want the air to smell like Pez candies." I answered.
"Blinx, Klargen." (I am getting to like this very much about now... We all know that the answer 'blinx' also contains the command form ending 'nx' so there's an absolute. No retorts with an 'nx.' Nice.)
"Location? Course? Report."
It was all falling together, I silently mused. (But blocked from transmitting.)
They sprang into action. It was impressive. Little thinnies move fast when they know sides of buttered bread and all that. Because of the telepathy (not really, it was just highly computerized) their control boards would light up as they arrived, preset for their idiosyncracies, preferences, whatever they have...
"Computer - play some Soundgarden, loudly, stat."
"Blinx, Klargen." It chose "Outshined."
"Gold stars to Computer for that choice. Now, something different... Who's next on two-fers?"
They all had that blank look again. Several consoles hummed like they were emitting energy of an unknown nature.
"Music off."
I already knew where we were. We were over the SW tip of Lopez Island, above the beach of blue glass shards, rounded by a century of waves into soft cobalt blue cobbles... We were more or less stationary and cloaked at 1200 meters. Low fog in tendrils blew from the NW past Shark Reef. The craft moved randomly with the clouds well above, and was infinitely stealthy, so I wasn't freaked we were so close to NAS-Whidbey. They couldn't see shit of us. I could see two F-18s, magnified on the defensive screen, that may have sniffed something on their radars briefly, but they were climbing, hooking back like they were headed to Yakima or something, so, what the hey?
The XO grey came from wherever he'd been and did a little bow. I nodded back.
"Klargen?" He actually seemed concerned.
"XO. We're still cloaked?"
"Aye." (Funny how THAT word is the same.)
"Drop to 100 meters, isolate my bodily atmospherics and prepare for physical transfer. I want full amplification on all frequencies, including osmic. Got it?"
His little grey brow furrowed, I swear... "Blinx, Klargen."
Maybe he knew what I was gonna do, bless his teensy 6-chamber hearts.
But he did it. And it was a good one. Only took a second, and it was stored. Amplification would take a few niptuks, but I could wait.
"Helm, coordinate with tactical for location and vector information. Begin photogrammetric and vibrational search. "
"Blinx Klargen." So crisp. I love when they answer at the same time and it sounds like early 'Car's' songs, reverberates a bit.
"Science Officer?"
"Klargen?" He was pissed because he knew, too. I'm sure he had better things to do.
"Find Her. Quietly. No EM nonsense."
"Gling brak blim, Klargen." ("As you wish" for you newbs.)
Wait. 'What am I doing?' I thought. I wanted a crowd of sorts.
"Helm, Defensive, begin random 1 second de-cloakings and position anomalies. Keep us below the clouds. Smartly." I already know they hate that shit, so gripin' isn't gonna help.
"Blinx, Klargen."
The random changes tended to mess with the inertial dampeners, so I stumbled back to my 'rotatey-chair' and latched the belt.
The mainscreen showed us over the cemetary, several miles south of the village. Facing north. The sun peeked though in places but not here. There was a slight breeze against the low trees.
A blink later, we were a 1/4 mile to the north or so. In the sun. The screen compensated.
"Klargen, oopan to tohna, nimt." They found both of them in less than 10 seconds. Spectacular work these guys do.
"Excellent," I giggle. "Cloak up boys. Take us, Helm."
"Blinx, Klargen." He fiddled and we were there. And I could see both of them, laughing and talking, standing in the parking lot of the new grocery store.
"Steady, Helm. Hover. Imaginary lover."
"Klargen?"
"Just seeing if you were listening, as you were." I decided right then and there to buy a round for this bridge staff. They were kickin' butt.
"Science, let 'er rip. Cropdust time. Full magnification on auditory and osmic. Suppress local noises."
I think the Clash said it best long ago...
"The crowd caught a whiff of that crazy casbah jive."
