The Alien Mind

Part II

A True Story as Told to Sara Starlight in a Dream

Gabriel picked up a piece of chalk and stood at the small blackboard that was attached to the wall. Drawing a diagram of the brain and the limbic system, Gabriel continued explaining why he believed the Alien was telepathic.

"As you can see the amygdala, in the human brain, is directly connected with the auditory receiving areas. " He pointed at the thick bundle of fibers that erupted from the amygdala, fibers which arched backward to the speech areas of the temporal lobe. "The ability to comprehend spoken language is located here, in the temporal lobe," he continued.

"That's called: Wernicke's receptive speech area, correct? Right here above the ear?" Dr. Garcia asked, pointing at her temple.

Gabriel gave her an affirmative nod.

"And Wernicke's area is the same region of the brain that comprehends verbal thought. If we were to take a claw hammar and destroy this area, you would become aphasic. You would be unable to understand human speech or anything I was saying."

Kim spoke up and asked a question: "Is it Wernicke's area which allows me to hear my own my thoughts, my verbal thoughts, in my own head?"

"Correct. When you are thinking in words, when you're listening to your own thoughts, it is Wernicke's area which hears your thoughts. It receives these verbal impulses through a fiber pathway that links all the speech areas. But remember, Wernicke's area, the entire receptive speech area, is an extension of the amygdala. It evolved from the amygdala. And the amygdala is listening too."

"So you're saying that a highly evolved amygdala, one that is several times the size of the human amygdala, might be able to hear someone else's thoughts as well?" Dr. Kim asked.


"But how?" Dr. Lee asked.

"Let me explain." Gabriel continued drawing on the black board. "The amygdala is also interconnected with the expressive speech areas in the left frontal lobe; called Broca's area. Broca's expressive speech area is the part of the brain that does the actual talking. Broca's area talks, and the amygdala and Wernicke's area are doing the listening."

"But the amygdala does more than that," Gabriel continued, noting the skeptical looks on the faces of Drs. Lee and Garcia. "The amygdala is implicated in all aspects of emotion, including what we call intuition. It plays a major role in dreaming, and religious and spiritual experience."

"Including telepathy? ESP?" Dr. Lee asked skeptically.

Gabriel smiled. "Perhaps. However, in the human brain, the amygdala normally inhibits much of what is out there. It filters out most of reality. Otherwise we would be overwhelmed. Yet, we also know that if you hyperactivate the amygdala, you will suddenly be able to experience what is normally filtered out. The doors of perception will be opened. If you hyperactive the amygdala, you will suddenly be able to see and taste sound, you can feel colors, and you can experience realms of reality that are normally suppressed. LSD, for example, acts to disinhibit the amygdala."

"You mean, you begin to hallucinate," Dr. Lee replied, somewhat dismissively.

"Yes. You might also begin to hallucinate," Dr. Gabriel agreed.

Dr. Kim again spoke up: "So you're saying that because the Alien's amygdala is so huge and highly evolved, it is not inhibited and can perceive these other realms of reality. Because its so huge it should be able to..."

Suddenly there came a rather urgent rapping and a tapping at Dr. Maria Garcia's office door. Gabriel and the others turned toward the door and then Gabriel glanced at the digital clock on Maria Garcia's desk. It had just clicked: 6:15. He wondered if he should make a phone call and have a friend check on Tiger, his dog...make sure he had water and give him something to eat.

"It's open" Dr. Garcia called.

In walked two of Garcia's laboratory technicians. They quickly explained that all of the lab personnel had been ordered, by General Klein, to abandon their posts and to leave the premises. They did so, reluctantly, they explained, but had no choice as his men were armed and they were not.

"That's outrageous!" Dr. Garcia exclaimed.

"Why? What reasons did he give?" Dr. Meyer asked.

The technician threw up his hands. "Its hard to ask questions when people are pointing guns at you. We really didn't have any choice. His men just kept barking: out out out, and waving their guns, so...well. So we left."

Garcia was pissed. "OK! That does it! Come on," she commanded. "Lets see what those bastards are up to!"


Chaos could adequately describe the scene they came upon when they entered the observation facilities of the Research and Containment Laboratories. Equipment had been smashed, computers and toppled video monitors lay helter skelter among files, CDs and diskettes strewn upon the floor; and in this midst of this chaos, stood Dr. Kirchstein and a number of bewildered and obtunded soldiers, several of whom were liberally splashed with blood.

For a brief moment, Gabriel, Kim, Garcia, Lee, and Meyer, were of one mind: The Alien! The alien must have awakened from its coma, gone on a rampage, and in attempting to escape, destroyed the equipment and mauled the soldiers.

"What happened here? Where is the alien?" Dr. Garcia demanded.

The soldiers said nothing. Kirchstein was apparently still too stunned to speak.

"I asked, what happened here?" Dr. Garcia ordered.


Gabriel gingerly stepping over the smashed and broken equipment, his feet crunching broken glass, made his way toward the open doorway leading to the containment cell. He glanced inside. Blood was everywhere. Spying the bloody body of Weinstein, lying sprawled, face down, just inside the doorway, and then the bodies of Cohen and Klein, Gabriel stopped in his tracks. Then he took a step back as it suddenly seemed like a very dangerous idea to go into that room.

"Did the alien do this?" He asked, pointing at the body of Weinstein.

Almost all eyes turned to the body which lay face down inside the observation cell,

"Oh my god!" Meyer exclaimed.

"The General went crazy," one of the soldiers mumbled.

"He killed him... Kept stabbing him...Yelling about god," another soldier added. "Then he killed himself."

"The General?" Dr. Garcia demanded. "General Klein killed himself?"

The soldier nodded.

"And who did this?" She demanded, indicating the wreckage that littered the floor.

Gabriel stepped into the room and over Weinstein's body. There were two more bloody bodies lying on the blood drenched concrete floor. He looked around the large room. It was if someone had been spraying blood with a firehose. Blood was everywhere. On the walls. On the ceiling. On the Alien.

Joseph's eyes lit up. The Alien! She was real!!

He took a step forward, and then another, his feet making sucking sounds as he walked through the sticky and congealing blood. His eyes grew wide. The Alien! She lay there on a steal pedestal, like a sleeping beauty; a beauty that was part wolf, part eagle, and part human! She was magnificent. Absolutely beautiful! Absolutely incredible!

"Unfucking believable!" Gabriel exclaimed, a huge smile on his face.

He could hear some of the others stepping into the room behind him. Somebody gasped. Someone else sounded as if they were about to get sick. It was Dr. Lee. He could hear Lee stumbling from the room, and then the murmurrings of Drs. Garcia and Meyer, but he ignored them.

He stepped within arms reach of the reclining alien. She was massive. Six feet in length, covered with blood splotched fur, sported a massive head and fur-lined face that resembled a wolf, and she lay upon beautiful multi-colored feathered wings that acted like a cushion, of sorts, between her body and the gleaming blood streaked steal pedestal that served as her bed. Numerous metal straps kept her pinned in place.

"You are fucking fantastic!" he exclaimed. "Absolutely beautiful!

"Why thank you!" replied a sexy throaty female voice.

Gabriel blinked twice, and then turned to see who had spoken. Garcia and Meyer were checking the bodies. Kim was at the door staring passed him, at the Alien. But he knew the sound of their voices. None of them had said anything, he was sure.

He again looked about room. The voice was so loud and so crisp sounding, he decided it must have come from a speaker. He frowned. There were no speakers that he could see, though there were plenty of cameras and video and recording equipment.

Dr. Kim cautiously stepped up beside Gabriel to get a better look at the alien. She slipped her arm through his and leaned close. Together they regarded the creature, which to all intents and purposes appeared to be securely pinned down by the numerous metal straps attached to body, arms and legs.

"Is she still alive? Did they hurt her?" Kim asked.

"How sweet! She likes you!" said the loud feminine voice.

Gabriel pulled away from Kim and again looked around the room. Garcia and Meyer were kneeling, still checking the body of the General and his two victims. Kirchstein and several of the soldiers were visible through the open doorway.

"Did you hear that?" He asked, looking at Kim.

Kim looked up at him, her face puzzled.

"Hear what?"

Gabriel searched her face. The sound of the voice was so loud and crystal clear, he found it hard to believe Kim hadn't heard it.

"The General, and these other two are dead," Dr. Garcia pronounced.

"He went insane," responded the voice. "Thought I was an angel of God."

Kirchstein had now stepped into the room, but said nothing.

"An angel..." Gabriel repeated.

Kirchstein looked at him sharply.

"So he killed himself and his two friends," continued the voice, which seemed to fill the whole room.

"What the fuck..." Gabriel muttered, his eyes sweeping over the laboratory. Gabriel looked from Kim to Garcia to Meyer. They were acting as if they hadn't heard a thing. Kirchstein was staring at him intently.

Maria Garcia stood up and brushed her hands against her white lab coat. "Cohen died from a single stab wound to the throat. Weinstein with multiple stab wounds to the back. And Klein obviously died of a self-inflicted stab wound to the throat," she said, pointing at the body.

Klein's dead hand still clutched the handle of the saber which jutted clean through his throat.

"You are not telepathic, are you Dr. Gabriel." It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

"What the... Who said that?" he blurted.

"I did," Dr. Garcia replied. She stepped up beside Gabriel and Kim.

"All three are dead."

"See. I told you the truth," said the voice.

Gabriel turned and faced the Alien. Ignoring the others he stepped up and stared down at its hairy face. It was the face of a wolf. The snout, whiskers, facial hair, the slant of its eyes, the ears...It had long erect furry ears, almost like a shepherd. But then, a crown of feathers capped the back of the creatures head and then continued down its neck and back.

Gabriel bent close and whispered into its ear. "Are you talking to me?"

"I wouldn't do that, Dr. Gabriel, until we find out what happened here," Dr. Garcia commanded.

"Dr. Gabriel!" Kim called, her voice worried.

"How sweet. She really does like you," said the voice; and then more loudly: "She's afraid I might jump up and eat you alive!"

Gabriel jerked back, startled. The voice was so loud and threatening that for a moment he imaged that she had leaped up at him.

"Sorry," said the voice.

Gabriel suddenly laughed, feeling pleased as punch. "I was right," he said aloud.

Dr. Kim gave him a worried look and reached out to take hold of his sleeve. "Dr. Gabriel are you OK?"

He turned to her, his eyes aglow. "Yes."

Meyer, Kim, Gabriel, and Garcia gathered round the Alien, but did not touch the body. Kirchstein kept his distance.

The alien looked frightening yet peaceful. The splotches of blood were deceiving. It looked as if she had been terribly wounded, but upon closer inspection, they could find no signs of external damage.

Joseph's eyes swept over and over the Alien's massive head, its face, jaws, closed eyes, the big wolf-like furry ears: "Can you hear me?" Gabriel asked. "Are you OK?"

"As best as can be expected," the Alien replied.

"Do you really expect the alien to answer you?" Dr. Meyer asked, obviously amused.

Gabriel looked up at Meyer and merely grinned. He turned back to the Alien.

Can you hear me now? Gabriel silently asked in his thoughts.

"Yes," she replied.

Do you have a name?


"What?" Gabriel asked out loud, obviously surprised.

Kim gave Gabriel an inscrutable look.

"You can call me Mars."

"Mars," he repeated out loud.

Garcia, Kim, and Meyer, exchanged puzzled glances. Kirchstein frowned.

"Yes. Mars."

Where do you come from? Gabriel asked in his thoughts.

There was no response.

"Can you hear me?" he asked out loud.

"I'm tired now, and have work to do. We'll talk again soon."

Wait! Hello! Wait! Let me ask you just few questions, he thought in silent pleading words.

There was no response.

"Can you hear me?" he asked out loud.

Garcia spoke up: "The Alien still appears to be in a coma, Dr. Gabriel. It probably can't hear anything you are saying."

"And even if it could," Meyer sniggered. "It certainly wouldn't be able to understand you."

Gabriel tore his gaze from the alien, and was about to explain what had just happened. But the looks on their faces, coupled with Kirchstein's scowl, convinced him it would be best if he said least for now.


A three star general and a retinue of high ranking officers, were dispatched to investigate, interrogate, and photograph the crime scene. This all took place with the Alien, still strapped to her pedestal, in the same room.

The double murder and suicide posed a number of thorny problems. First and foremost was the need to preserve national security and to keep the existence of the alien secret. This was partly solved by covering her with a sheet, and attempting to avoid asking questions, or writing down answers that referred to her existence.

Of almost equal concern were the international implications and the fear of offending the state of Israel. Klein, after all, was a citizen of Israel and had numerous powerful friends within the U.S. government and the State Department, not to mention the backing of 10 U.S. Senators.

These "friends" would demand answers. Was this a "hate crime?" Hadn't two fellow officers made anti-Semitic remarks earlier in the same day?

Fortunately, all the witnesses to the double murder and suicide, made essentially identical statements: General Klein, who was known to be highly religious, had apparently experienced a religious homicidal delusion. He became deranged. While screaming about an angel of god, Klein attacked and killed two innocent bystanders and then stabbed himself.

As to the destruction of the laboratory equipment and almost all of the pertinent records, this too was explained away as a consequence of Klein's temporary insanity. Admittedly, the investigators, including Drs. Garcia, Kim, Lee, Meyer, and Gabriel, thought otherwise.

Each soldier was asked the same question: "Why did you destroy this equipment?"

"We were following orders. Sir!"

"Why did General Klein say he was giving orders to destroy this equipment?"

"He didn't say. We were just following orders. Sir!"

"Dr. Kirchstein. What did you do or say when General Klein ordered the destruction of this equipment and data?"

"I objected, of course. But what could I do? I was powerless to stop him," Kirchstein explained.

No matter what the question, regardless of if they were asked individually or in a group, the stock answers offered by Kirchstein and Klein's contingent of military personnel was: "I don't know," and: "We were just following orders. Sir!"

Nothing was said about Klein's attempt on the Alien's life. The question wasn't ask. No one volunteered the information. Nor did anyone mention the troubling failure they all experienced when trying to discharge their weapons.

Three hours later, the bodies were gone, and being prepared for autopsy. The technicians were back at work, trying as best they could, to salvage and restore and recover what Klein and his men had set out to destroy: all evidence of the alien's existence.

The situation in the Alien's containment cell posed yet other difficulties. There was blood everywhere, even on the Alien.

"We should move the creature to another room."

"No. Too dangerous."

"But its in a coma."

"What if it wakes up?"

"Yeah. If it wakes up, it might be in a very very bad mood. No telling what might happen."

"But its strapped down."

"Too dangerous."

Finally, it was decided that the technicians and a small janitorial crew, would clean as best they could. The Alien lay literally under wraps, hidden beneath a sheet. Dr. Garcia supervised the clean up effort, while praying the creature would not suddenly wake up while the cleaning crew was at work.

Drs. Meyer and Lee also had their work cut out for them: supervising and helping with the data recovery effort in the next room.

Gabriel stood off to the side, nursing his secret thoughts while seemingly watching the frenzy of activity swirling around him. Kirchstein, he knew, kept staring at him, but why, he had only the vaguest of clues. Did Kirchstein suspect the Alien had communicated with him? He didn't see how.

Gabriel glanced up, but Kirchstein had already averted his gaze. Instead, Kirchstein was staring, with obvious appreciation, at the incredibly beautiful and sexy, Dr. Kim who was making her way across the room. She was stepping over the wreckage, her skirt riding and tightening up, emphasizing her great ass and her long slim sexy legs.

Gabriel met her eyes. He fought the impulse to take her in his arms and kiss her pretty mouth and face.

"Are you hungry?" she asked. "I am."

Gabriel smiled at her. All the gore and excitement had absolutely killed his appetite. He wondered how she could feel hungry. But the prospect of being alone with her and maybe, finally, getting her into bed, wetted his appetite. Didn't the Alien say Kim liked him? Besides, he also wanted to use a phone, as none were working in this room, and get someone to see about Tiger, his dog.

"Sounds great," he replied.

"I believe we need an escort," she commented. "I'll talk to Dr. Garcia."

Kirchstein was suddenly beside them. "Care if I join you?" he asked, directing his question to Dr. Kim. He grinned at her like a shark.

"Oh! Sure. That would be fine," Kim replied.

"Excellent. I am absolutely famished," he replied, giving her an obvious once over, his eyes lingering on her breasts. "And we have a lot to talk about." He reached out toward her as if he were about to take her hands, but then changed his mind. "I'll take care of arranging an escort."

Gabriel frowned. Not because he considered Kirchstein to be a prick and a horse's ass. But because Gabriel wanted to be alone with this Asian princess and didn't need Kirchstein in the way drooling all over her. From the looks he had been giving her, it was fairly obvious that this horse's ass obviously wanted to stick his little prick into the pretty pussy of Dr. Kim. Sorry, Kirchstein, Gabriel silently thought, that pretty pussy belongs to me.


Tired from the exertion of her mental activity and the effort of directing the thoughts of the now dead general, she lay perfectly still, focusing her mind's eye, allowing her body to more rapidly heal.

It didn't bother her to have humans in the room; except for the odor. She wrinkled her snout. Humans tended to stink.

Not only did humans excrete the foulest of odors, but they applied all kinds of stinky chemicals to their bodies. In their hair, in their mouths, on their skin, under the arms pits, inside their vaginas, and even around their assholes.

The humans stunk to high heaven! Marslastarla did not relish the notion of greeting a human in the manner that was customary on her planet. Even at this distance, one sniff was more than enough. P.U.

No wonder the humans preferred to shake hands. Her own species also enjoyed shaking "hands," though the preferred method of greeting was bending over, nuzzling up close and taking a good sniff. Of course, the males of her planet sometimes took advantage by getting in a lick or two; which was fine with Marslastarla. She liked being licked.

Marslastarla grimaced, her face betraying signs of hurt and pain. was what got her into this mess...and killed Sattra.

They had settled into an orbit directly above the empty space craft designed by the humans... the better to prevent detection...

And then Sattra began feeling frisky. Kissing and licking...and licking and kissing and...then... they let their minds wonder... they gave themselves up to love, romance, and another sexual escapade...let their minds wonder... and... momentarily released control over their space craft... all the defenses were down.. but they were in open space...there would be no danger... and then...and then...the craft of the Earthlings... it must have been unstable...must have slightly changed its orbit... maybe because of a reduction in the electro-magnetic force field generated by her own ship...a force field that normally repelled foreign matter... maybe... maybe... but...they had no fear of attack...They were in love! They were in lust! The Sex Was Incredible!

And then...and then...a freak accident...the ships collided.... punctured the most vulnerable part of their space craft... and then...and then.... Marslastarla suppressed a sob....she didn't want to think about that...not now...not ever....


Tantrar led the charge through inter-gallatic space. Soon they would make the leap from the walls of his universe, across the chasm of near emptiness, avoid the scavenging black holes, and allow the gravitational pull of the next universe to assist in counterbalancing the gravitational forces of his own.

Tantrar loved soaring through space, relishing not just the journey and the cosmic rush of interstellar winds blowing by, but flying... and the adventure... and the danger...the opportunity to test himself and prove his bravery...and that opportunity, he knew, would present itself the moment they approached and then entered the galactic territory of the Blues... through which they would soon soar and fly...

Stars and galaxies whipped by, leaving only meandering trails of light, his craft directed on its way by the miracle of liquid DNA and his mind's eye. Unlike the Robot Killers who actions and ships were controlled by living brains, Tantrar and his kind had harnessed the informational computing powers of gold, diamonds, crystals, and liquid DNA.

Veins of gold crisscrossed the walls and ceiling of his multi-ribbed craft, creating an interlocking sparkling web of informational computational engineering. Diamonds and crystals powered the craft and provided not just information but energy.

Yet, it was the liquid DNA which coursed through these golden veins, which provided the power of thought, and which did the ship's thinking all night and day.

Of course, it was all directed by his mind's eye, and this was the beauty of the design, as well as its danger. Only an experienced mind could pilot these ships. A momentary slip of thought, a blink of the mind's eye, could disable the craft and expose all aboard to death, defeat, and incredible danger.

Tantrar wasn't worried. He was on a roll. Tantrar's co-pilot, Venula, had been expertly trained, and if she and he were to become disabled, the engineer, Joloeglar, would automatically assume control.

Onward they sped. Through the heavens they soared. Stars and galaxies lay up ahead... and now they were already far behind... and soon they would enter the galactic territory of the notorious Blues.... and then, before exiting this universe, they would pass through the galactic tripartite controlled by the spidery Reds...The Reds were a cause for worry, not so the Blues.

The Blues were a mysterious breed who desired to be neither friend nor foe. They had conquered their own small galaxy, and its hundred billions worlds, millions of years ago. The Blues claimed they wished now only to be left alone. Which meant, however, that they also claimed the right to fight and destroy any who dared even approach their little chunk of galactic space. But Tantrar was not afraid and cared not a damn about their claims, for his mission against time and the Robot Killers, required that through their territory he must race. If challenged, he would fight, and with regret he would destroy them and leave not a trace.

The "Blues" were not their real names, but what they called themselves he did not care. They were "Blues" because of their bluish hues, and as they resembled a liquid flare and bluing flame. Yet they were solid, physical, and were made of something resembling flesh and bone. And they were dangerous, smart, and treacherous; qualities that enabled them to conquer and exterminate all intelligent life that had long ago shared their galactic home.

"Blues approaching" called a warning in his head. He shared glances with his female copilot and they both grinned.

Tantrar and the others focused their mind's eyes. Now the fun begins.

Three Blues, spaced evenly apart, sought to bar their way. Tantrar and the others shared a common thought: The Blues have come out to play. They would not live to regret it. They would never get away.

A Blues craft shot a warning laser light that splashed across Tantrar's bow. Tantrar grinned a wolfish grin, and then let loose with a fearsome howl.

Although it was but a warning, to ward of those who liked to prowl, the Blues craft had also betrayed itself, and would now be destroyed. One shot was all the Blues would be allowed.

With regret, Tantrar reminded himself. And with regret he discharged his great weapon that would absorb then solidify the Blue's protective anti-matter shield. With a burst of electromagnetic energy, the shield solidified then engulfed the Blues, in a suffocating electromagnetic field. The Blue's craft imploded, and what was, was now no more.

The second Blues craft suffered the same fate. It didn't have a chance. The third, realizing it was outgunned, decided to run and sought to escape. Off it went, streaking away, but alas, it was too late.

Tantrar's pricked up his wolfish ears, and flapped his eagle wings, for the chase was on, he soared on and on, the solar winds whipping by and by which made their space craft sing.... within seconds they were alongside... Tantrar dipped to the left forcing the Blue to turn... and then he dipped to the right in a gut wrenching burn again forcing the Blue to change directions...but there was no where to hide... Tantrar allowed it a brief moment of respite as if it might get away... and then he commanded warp speed.. gaining, coming closer, relishing the chase and his enemies failed attempt at flight. "Owwwlll" he howled in wolfish delight, and then mildly surprised asked, "what's this?" The Blue had given up and now turned to fight.

With regret, Tantrar reminded himself.

The danger posed by the Blue was quickly, decisively solved, and now it was on to the Robotic killers and to Marslastarla, the only one he loved.


Gabriel had been taken to a private room, the same in which he had slept away the morn, and allowed to use a phone. But now, it appeared, he would not be allowed to leave. To his surprise and consternation, the door, he discovered, had been locked. They had locked him in!!!

"Kirchstein," he grumbled. "Goddamn it!"

He picked the phone back up, and "dialed 9" as he had been directed, which meant he was to punch in "9" to get an operator who would connect him with an outside line. But he didn't want an outside line. He wanted out of the goddamn room.

He explained the situation to the operator, but since he did not know where in the building he was, there was nothing she could do.

"Where am I? I don't know," he replied, realizing how foolish that must sound.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said, before hanging up.

Gabriel paced about the small private room, pulled open some drawers, looked inside. Pens, paper, office crap. Yanked open the drawers to a small dresser and again looked inside. Socks, underwear, and the like. He pulled open a door, which opened to a small bathroom. Pulled open another door. It was a closet. Clothes, shirts, coats, several uniforms, hung inside.

Gabriel had been wearing the same clothes for over 24 hours, not counting the four hours he lay naked with his sweet little Latina. He sniffed the underarms of his shirt. That decided it. If he was going to get into Dr. Kim's panties, it would make things a lot easier if he didn't stink.

Fifteen minutes later, after a quick shower, and a change into some clean underwear, clean socks, and a clean shirt, he was ready. "Now open the door, Goddamn it," he yelled.

To his surprise, the door opened.


Kirchstein sans bloody lab coat and his face and hands freshly washed, was sitting beside Dr. Kim, at a small corner table. The commissary was nearly empty. Only a few officers and men sat at some of the adjoining tables.

"We could use someone with your talents," Kirchstein said, his eyes flicking from her eyes to her breasts and then back again.

"And what talents are those?" she asked.

Kirchstein smiled, sure she was getting his drift. "Why, you have a Ph.D. from Yale..."

"Harvard," she corrected.

"Yes. Harvard. And an M.D. from..."

"Yale," she added.

"With those kinds of credentials, not too mention the papers you've published, and your expertise in the subtleties of oral communication," he winked at her. "I could easily make you my personal assistant."

Kim frowned.

"What I mean is, I could make you an Assistant Director at NASA's Astrobiology Institute... and we could offer you a salary well into the six figures."

"And what would be my duties?"

Kirchstein smiled like a shark. Normally he preferred blondes. Young blondes. The Nordic type. Yet, there was something incredibly sexy about this Asian cunt. Her long sexy legs, large upturned breasts, "bee stinged" pouty lips...The possibility of giving her a job, and then making her have sex, forcing her... excited him.

Asians were submissive...or so he had been told. He looked her up and down and visualized tying her up and whipping her. Yes! Whipping her! That would give him great pleasure. Making her stand naked, while wearing high heels, tying her hands above her head, and then whipping her, making her his sex slave...pulling down her panties and whipping her...making her cry... Yes...Yes!

"Have you ever been to Israel?" he asked.

Flakes of blood on his tie and lapels had caught her eye. There were more flakes of dried blood in his hair. "Excuse me?"

"Israel? Have you ever visited?"

"No, why do you ask?"

"A beautiful country," he replied. "I was just wondering."

It had been a year since he had been to the promised land. There had been a Russian girl...or maybe she was from the Ukraine...Blond, 17 years old... she had been trafficked to Israel where sex slavery was practically legal... and she was a sex slave...A slave! And she was very pretty! And built! She looked just like Pamela Anderson!

She had begged him to help her, when she realized he was an American, she begged him, in her pigeon English, to help her escape, She said they had promised her a job as a "hostess" and that once they got her aboard ship, they took her passport away and then beat her when she refused to have sex.

"They rape me" she cried, becoming tearful.

Then they brought her to Israel, stripped her naked along with several others girls, and sold her for $2,000 American dollars. "Now I prisoner!" she cried. "They rape me. They beat me. Please help me!" she pleaded, but her helpless cries only made him more aroused.

He had to pay extra to whip her, because it would leave marks, her owners explained. Kirchstein gladly paid. Tied her by the hands, with her arms above her head, and then he whipped her till she cried from the pain...whipped her ass and then her pussy...and made her spread her legs...She was helpless... her hands tied above her head... she had to do whatever he wanted.

"You have lovely hands," Kirchstein said to Dr. Kim and then took her hand in his own. He smiled at her like a shark. "Such lovely hands..."

Led by his Marine escort, Gabriel strolled into the commissary and then spied Kirchstein and Dr. Kim, sitting alone...Goddamn! He was holding her hand!!!

Kim yanked her hand away, as if she had been bitten by a snake. She slid her chair away from his. "You'll have to excuse me," she said, standing up. He was giving her the creeps.

"Leaving so soon?" Dr. Gabriel asked. He had come up right behind her.

Kim spun around, and to his surprise, she threw her arms around him and gave him a hug. He held her close, feeling the outline of her breasts and supple body against his own. Then she pulled away.

"I've been wondering where you were!" she said, as if admonishing him.

Gabriel laughed. "I was wondering the same thing."

Kim had no idea what he was talking about, but she smiled just the same. And then to her pleased surprise, he took her back in his arms. And as she pretended to struggle, he kissed her long and hard, making her wet, and tingle all over with incredible sexual delight.


Kim felt as if she would swoon...his mouth kissing hers...holding her...feeling her... kissing her... kissing her.... and now she was kissing him back, greedily, hungrily, her darting licking tongue inside his mouth...she was on fire... he was sending sparks clear down her spine... and... between her legs...


They both heard the sound of a loud cough, followed by a definite clearing of one's throat. It was Dr. Lee: "If you two love birds could spare a moment..."

Gabriel and Dr. Kim quickly disentangled themselves, and turned to face Dr. Lee; Kim blushing and quickly smoothing and straightening her clothes, Gabriel making an adjustment so that the bulge in his pants was not so obvious. As he made a crotch adjustment, Gabriel noticed that some of the military men sitting together eating at one of the tables, were smiling approvingly, having apparently enjoyed the performance of the "two love birds." But the same could not be said about Dr. Kirchstein whose eyes were firing daggers. Gabriel gave him a big happy smile.

"Generals McWorter and Reily are here," Dr. Lee informed them. "They want everybody to assemble in the military conference room, pronto, in sub-basement 14-B."

"Are the Generals back in charge of the investigation?" Kim asked.

"Yes," Lee replied. "And they have a whole list of questions they want answered right away."

Five minutes later the good doctors, the generals, a few of the technicians, and an assortment of men and women dressed in white lab coats, were taking their seats around a huge shiny mahogany conference table situated in a cavernous wood paneled conference room. Coffee containers and cups, and donuts and other refreshments were set out on a nearby table, and chalk boards, a movie screen, several maps of the world, a dozen digital clocks depicting the time in different parts of the world, and a number of video, computer, internet, and television monitors were attached to, inset and/or had been built into the wood paneled walls. It was now nearly midnight.

Gabriel poured himself a cup of coffee, grabbed several donuts, took a seat next to Dr. Kim, exchanged smiles, and leaned back and relaxed. The leather chairs were padded and quite comfortable, thank you.

General Reily quickly got down to business, introduced some of the principles, including three white coated engineers who had examined the alien space craft, and then asked Dr. Garcia to review, for all present, all that was known about the Alien.

Maria Garcia was happy to oblige. When she began discussing Dr. Joseph's beliefs that the creature was telepathic, Kirchstein turned and stared at him sharply.

Kirchstein interrupted her. "Does Dr. Gabriel have any additional evidence to support his theory?"

"Not at the moment," Gabriel replied.

"So the creature has not been in communication with you?"

Gabriel hesitated. "Not exactly."

"What do you mean: Not exactly? Explain yourself! Has there been any attempt at communication?" General Reily demanded.


"Then what do you mean by: not exactly?" Kirchstein asked.

"I had a feeling, in the jet, on the way over..."

"A feeling? Just a feeling?" Kirchstein asked, his voice mocking.


Kirchstein scowled. "And when you were with the alien, in the containment lab, the creature was not communicating with you?"

"The alien is in a coma," Dr. Garcia remarked, addressing her comments to the two Generals. "Dr. Gabriel was trying to communicate with the Alien, but it did not respond."

"Then why..." Kirchstein began.

"That's enough!" General Reily ordered. "Please continue with the overview, Dr. Garcia."

Twenty minutes later, she was finished.

"Anyone have anything to add to that?" General Reily asked, making eye contact with each of the other doctors. There were no volunteers.

"OK then. General McWorter will take over from here."

"As all of you know," General McWorter began, "the alien craft collided with the Mir space station. We can only surmise that they were attempting to inspect the space station when the collision occurred. Following the collision, the aliens apparently lost control of their craft which crashed to Earth in a cow pasture in West Virginia." McWorter suddenly smiled. "There were no cow fatalities that we know of."

Everybody chuckled.

"The alien craft was badly damaged... Fred, get the lights. Lets see those pictures."

The room was suddenly plunged into semi-darkness, and then a picture of the damaged Alien space craft appeared on the movie screen. Then another shot at another angle, and then at another angle, and at another, and another, and so on, and then, a shot of a man-size rip in the exterior of the craft.

The craft was, well, alien. It wasn't a saucer. It wasn't shaped like a triangle. It didn't look like a jet, or a missile or a boat, or anything like a space craft for that matter. Instead, it was shaped, somewhat like the head of a rainbow colored predatory bird, with stylized "wings" fanned and flattened out and pressed along both sides of the posterior exterior walls of the alien craft . The entire craft, when viewed from the "side" or the "front" had the shape of a bird's head propelled by wings at the rear, and with what appeared to be a multi-fanged beak and predatory "eyes." It looked liked a predatory bird head with wings. The entire craft was about 30 yards high, 40 yards wide, and 50 yards long.

"This is how we gained entry into the space craft," the general explained, pointing at the rip in the side of the alien craft. "We were never able...what I mean to say is, we have not yet been able to find a door, or anything resembling an exit. Its almost as if the aliens were hermetically sealed inside."

"Are those eyes at the front of the craft?" somebody asked.

"They do look like eyes, yes," General McWorter replied. "But, as near as we can tell, they may be just for decoration. And the same seems to be true of the beak, or mouth, or whatever the hell that's supposed to be. The wings, of course, are not functional, and are part of the exterior walls of the craft."

"That face does not look very happy," Gabriel commented wryly. "It looks down right its getting ready to swoop down and take a bite out of something."

"We can presume then, that this is a war craft, designed to frighten and panic the enemy," the general added.

"Any weapons on board?" Gabriel asked.

The general made a face. "We don't know. Fred? Show the rest of the pictures."

The series of photos continued. Entering the craft, shots of the interior walls, ceilings and floors, shots of the dying alien, shots of the female alien, pictures from different angles, pictures of four very large "chairs," pictures of the multi-ribbed walls and the spider-web-like diamond encrusted golden tubing along the ceiling, pictures of broken tubing which were leaking a molasses-like substance, and then pictures of adjoining "cabins," some containing "beds" and other "furniture," others containing what appeared to be storage compartments...

"And it just goes on like this. There are no instrument panels. There are no computers. There are no viewing screens. No way to look outside. In fact, there is no indication whatsoever of how they controlled the craft. Nor is there any indication of what they might have done for entertainment. And, as you can see, the entire inside of the craft appears to be rather spartan."

"What are those square things, attached to the walls? They look like empty picture frames?" "We don't know what they are," General Reily replied.

"What about those round things we saw on the floor? What are those?"

"They appear to be balls," the general replied.

"Do they bounce?"

"Oh yes."

"What about food?

"We did find what we believe to be food containers. From the looks of it, they eat meat."

"What kind of meat?"

"We have not made any definitive determinations. DNA analysis suggests that two of the samples may be related to squirrel and cat."

"Ummm pussy," someone joked.

"Yeah. Good eatin, tastes just like chicken," someone else remarked.

There was scattered laughter.

"Well, if they're meat eaters, then they must be carnivores," Dr. Kim remarked. "And If they're carnivores, then they are killers. They would enjoy killing."

The General looked unhappy. "Killers you say?"

Several heads nodded in the affirmative.

"Hey! If they eat meat, then they're certainly not vegetarians," Gabriel added. "And if you eat meat, then you've got to kill your dinner."

"On the other hand," Kim added, looking at Gabriel. "With all that extra brain power, maybe they've learned to suppress the desire to kill...No weapons have been found, right?"

Gabriel nodded agreeably. Maybe Kim was right. The alien certainly seemed friendly enough. But then... he reminded himself... they always come at you with smiles...

And there there was the supposed suicide and double murder...Although the creature, Mars she called herself, seemed friendly, Gabriel had the distinct impression that she was responsible for these deaths...but then, maybe those bastards were up to no good...maybe she was just defending herself... but if she could make people kill themselves... Gabriel grimmaced: Jesus Christ!

"What are those things running along the walls?" Kim asked.

"The ribs, you mean?" the General asked.

"Ribs! Mmmm. Good eatin!" one of the technicians joked.

"No! Those tube-like things...they have a kinda-spider-web like pattern to them."

"Oh oh! Meat eating aliens flying around in a space ship whose insides look like food," another of the technicians remarked wryly. "That's a bad sign. Not good at all!"

"Why is that?" General Reily asked.

"Meat eating killer carnivores, who decorate the inside of their craft with ribs and spider-webs? Yikes! Gives me the heeby jeebies! "

"Come in and relax, said the spider to the fly!"

"The itsy bitsy spider crawled upon the wall..."

"Lets be serious, people!" Dr. Garcia commanded.

The two Generals looked very glum.

"So what are those things?" Kim asked again. "The spider-like tubes? And what are those globs of glass-like things...that are attached every few feet to the webbing?"

"They appear to be diamonds," General McWorter replied.


"Yes. Diamonds and crystals. And those tubes appear to be made of gold."

"Were rich!" someone remarked.

No one laughed.

"You keep calling them tubes? What's inside them?" Kim asked.

"Fred. Back up a few slides...OK, there! What we see here," General McWorter said, pointing at some of the broken tubing and a pool of goo which had leaked out, "are hollow tubes. Not completely hollow, for inside is this molasses-like substance, which, as you can see here, is leaking out..."

"What is that stuff?" Dr. Kim asked.

"A preliminary analysis suggests that it might be some kind of generic, liquefied DNA."

"Liquid DNA?" Dr. Lee exclaimed. "Does that mean the ship is alive?"

General McWorter seemed surprised by the question. "Uh. To tell you the truth, we hadn't thought of that." He turned to the engineers. "What do you guys think?"

"Beats me," one of the engineers remarked.

"I don't think so," another engineer replied. "Maybe its some kind of solvent."

"If its DNA," Gabriel remarked. "Then what you may have discovered is the brains of the ship."

"The brains?"

"Right. A DNA-biocomputer. The DNA may be doing all the ship's thinking."

"That's absolutely ridiculous!" Kirchstein exclaimed.

"And what about the diamonds?" the General asked. "And the gold?"

"Diamonds and gold... a girl's best friend," Gabriel remarked wryly. "Hell. I don't know."

The room fell into silence.

Dr. Garcia finally spoke up: "So what we have here, are two meat eating carnivorous aliens who fly across the heavens in a space craft designed like the head of a screaming eagle, the inside of which consists of a spider-web pattern of diamonds and gold with DNA coursing through its veins... And so far as we can tell, the only thing these Aliens have for entertainment are a coupled of bouncing balls. That sound about right?"

Nobody disagreed.

"So the question then, is, what are they doing here? Why did they come to our planet?" General Reily asked.

"Maybe they were hungry."

"Or bored!"

"Or they got lost!"

"Lets try to be serious here, people!" Dr. Garcia admonished.

General Reily slammed his fist against the table. "These creatures came here for a reason. Millions more may be on their way."

The room became deathly silent.

Finally the General broke the silence. "What we are facing is not just the end of civilization as we know it, but perhaps the complete extinction of the human race. We must find out what these two aliens are doing here. Are they scouts? Are they tourists who got lost? Why have they come to our planet?"

More silence.

"There is really only one way to find out," Dr. Gabriel commented.

"And how is that?" General Reily asked.

"By questioning the Alien."

"And how do you propose to do that?" Dr. Kirchstein sneered. "She's in a coma!"

Gabriel grinned. "Simple. We just wake her up and ask her."


Meanwhile... a lone space craft, blacker than night, and shaped like a twisting, titanic serpent, materialized well beyond the solar system, 70 Astronomical Units from the sun, 20 Astronomical Units beyond the orbit of Pluto, and well outside the Edgeworth-Kuiper Disk of "ice dwarfs" and minor planets. There it waited... and observed.


(To Be Continued...)

The Origins of Life
Table of Contents
Table of Contents

Biological Big Bang

Life On Earth Came From Other Planets