Saucer: Savage Planet Read Free

case up into the dark belly of the saucer.
    DeVries craned his neck, trying to see inside. “Like, when you going to climb into this thing?”
    A smile crossed the face of Adam Solo. “Now,” he said. He raised himself through the hatchway into the belly of the ship.
    Harrison Douglas bent down and crawled under the ship, then squirmed up through the hatch. Then the hatch closed.
    The first mate slowly shook his head. “Glad it was them two and not me,” he said conversationally, although there was no one there to hear him. “My momma didn’t raise no fools. I wouldn’t have crawled into that thing for all the money on Wall Street.”
    *   *   *
    The first mate made his way to the bridge . Captain Johnson was still at the helm. “Well, did you ask him?” the captain demanded.
    “Scientific curiosity, Douglas said.”
    “My ass,” the captain said sourly. “Oh, well. As long as we get paid…” After a moment the captain continued, “Solo’s weird. That accent of his—it isn’t much, but it’s there. I can’t place it. Sometimes I think it’s Eastern European of one kind or another, then I think it isn’t.”
    “All I know,” DeVries said, “is he ain’t from Brooklyn.”
    The captain didn’t respond to that inanity. He said aloud, musing, “He’s kinda freaky, but nothin’ you can put your finger on. Still, bein’ around him gives me goosebumps.”
    “They got money,” DeVries said simply. In his mind, money excused all peculiarities, an ingrained attitude he had acquired long ago because he didn’t have any.
    “World Pharmaceuticals is gonna have to push a lotta pills to earn back eight million smackers for deep-sea salvage.”
    “I say it’s a good thing,” the mate said lightly. “Some of this saucer money is finally trickling all the way down to us.”
    “Amen,” the captain said, and both men laughed.
    Then Johnson’s mood changed. “Solo is gonna try to fix that thing up and they’re gonna fly it,” Johnson said darkly. “That’s gotta be it.”
    “You gonna call somebody?”
    “After Douglas gets his saucer safely ashore, I don’t think he gives a rat’s patootie who we tell.”
    “It’ll never fly again,” DeVries said with finality. “Bet it’s nothing but wreckage inside. Maybe if somebody like Boeing worked on it for a year or two they could get it in shape to fly again, but one guy ain’t gonna do it with hand tools.”
    The captain lit a cigarette one-handed. “Tell you what,” he said after his first full puff. “I don’t care a whit if it flies or not, or what Douglas hopes to do with it. Guy’s got a screw loose.”
    The mate couldn’t take his eyes off the saucer. “Thing’s heavy as hell. Like to never got it up. We almost lost it a dozen times.”
    “Notice how the Queen ’s ridin? Lot of weight up high. Hope we make harbor before the sea kicks up.”
    DeVries grunted. After a moment he said with a touch of wonder in his voice, “A real, honest-to-God flying saucer … Never believed in ’em, y’know?”
    “Yeah,” the captain agreed. “Thought it was all bull puckey. Even standing here looking at one of the darn things, I have my doubts.”
    *   *   *
    The only light inside the saucer came through the canopy, a dim glow from the salvage vessel’s masthead lights. It took several seconds for Solo’s eyes to adjust.
    As the first mate predicted, the corpse of Jean-Paul Lalouette was there. The force of the impact had caused the seat belt and shoulder harness of the pilot’s seat to tear though his body, the major pieces of which were lying on the floor under the instrument panel. There was blood everywhere, but it had congealed and now had the consistency of dry paint.
    After a glance, Solo ignored the corpse.
    Harrison Douglas thought he ought to do something, so he clasped his hands in front of his ample middle and stood for a moment with head bowed and eyes closed. He stood like that for at least ten seconds. Then he