Lieutenant Colonel Edward T. Wainscoat, "Big John" as he liked himself to be affectionately known in honour of his all-time great hero John Wayne, glared around the scene with suspicion and plucked a soggy unlit cigar from his mouth. Things were taking too long. Pausing to flick a shred of tobacco from his lower lip Wainscoat began to bellow orders. He was surprisingly good at bellowing, considering his size. Unlike the man Wainscoat liked to model himself on, he was a small tubby man in his fifties with a steel-grey crew cut and piggy eyes behind unattractive glasses. Hardly an authoritative figure, but then the Texas National Guard took all sorts.
"MURPHY!" he screamed, scaring the life out of those near by him. "Get that barricade moved back. I don't wanna see them TV people within shootin' range of the target! And where the hell are my tanks?"
A reply drifted back to the effect that the TV people were raising hell about their journalistic rights, and that the tanks had been delayed on the interstate owing to the over-turning of a lorry load of chickens on the highway.
"CHICKENS!" he screamed back. "God-damn it Murphy, you tell that peckerwood Bartlett to get his ass in gear and get me that ordnance! PDQ! And tell those god-damn TV people I don't give a rats-ass for their rights, if the shootin' starts they gonna get their sorry behinds incinerated! Do I make myself clear?"
Murphy got the message and hurried to comply. Wainscoat sighed heavily and turned his attention back to the problem in hand. He'd read all about this sort of thing in the news, hell he'd even seen some of them movies, though he thought it was all a bunch of hogwash, but he never thought he'd live to see the day when he'd actually see one for himself.
A flying saucer. A genuine, honest to god, flying saucer! Right in his own backyard. Sitting there, plain as day and bright as a button in the early morning sunlight. A large ochre-coloured disk with a raised opaque bubble on top, looking distinctly incongruous in the middle of the cow paddock. It didn't seem to bother the cows none either, which immediately raised Wainscoat's suspicions that the aliens were using some kind of mind-sapping ray on them. He'd read all about all the weird disappearances of cattle and how their mutilated bodies would be found days afterwards. Maybe he'd discovered why!
Aliens... well, they were there too. Not in the ship, or they'd have either taken off or started blasting when he and the Guard turned up, alerted by a very worried farmer who hadn't been expecting a visit from another galaxy before breakfast. Neither had he been expecting to find the visitors hiding in his barn when he went to do the milking. They were in there still, hiding, no doubt plotting evil things while doing unmentionable things to the cows trapped in the barn with them. There hadn't been any noise from inside, which Wainscoat also found suspicious.
He hadn't like the sound of what the farmer said he'd seen in there. Two large hideous purple blobs, all eyes and tentacles, slobbering in some hideous alien lingo. The farmer took one look and ran for the phone, and within minutes, the whole State was in uproar. Subsequently, during the morning, what appeared to be half the states' National Guard arrived, who'd taken over from the state police, who'd taken over in turn from the highway patrol, who'd taken over from the local sheriff, who'd taken over from the farmer's son who'd been guarding the building with his pa's shotgun.
They'd now taken up position surrounding the area, and as ranking officer on the spot he was in charge. The general commanding was in Hawaii on vacation and the Governor was in Washington, but there was who-knew-what flying out to be here. The FBI had already sent a couple of field agents down, who were standing around at the back scratching their heads and wondering where the nearest bar was, and various medical types were on stand by. There was the usual gaggle of onlookers and (spit) media, but the local smokies had seen most of them safely back.
He did have one important visitor though. Beside Wainscoat was a tall wiry man in his late-middle age. He had slightly sneering, aristocratic looks and a lot of wavy grey hair. He was watching the barn and the saucer through a pair of binoculars and muttering to himself in his native tongue. His name was Professor Hans Breck and he was on the President's Special Scientific Staff. As luck would have it, the Professor had been in the State for a conference (and a few rounds of golf) and Wainscoat had whistled him down. Breck was a foreigner, a German from the sound, and while Wainscoat didn't much like him he presumed that if the President trusted him enough to employ him on his team then the least he could do was give him the benefit of the doubt - kraut or not.
"Whaddaya reckon, Professor? Are they gonna come out shootin'?"
Breck slowly lowered the binoculars and favoured Wainscoat with an inscrutable glance. "We cannot be sure of anything, Colonel," he snapped, his German accent quite notable. "Contact with alien beings is something that has been much discussed at the highest level, but we'd always assumed that such contact would either have been friendly, or..." he trailed off, then gestured towards the barn. "But this is ridiculous! Hiding themselves in the barn like this!" Breck drew himself up to his full height, nostrils flaring. "This is not the behaviour of intelligent creatures, Colonel. We must prepare for the worst!"
"They're probably and rightfully terrified, and their reaction is entirely intelligent. I wish I could say the same of everyone else's' here."
The quiet voice had drifted from behind them and they swung round to find a strangely dressed man with shoulder-length dark hair and curious, almost rubbery features regarding them with an expression of mild reproach.
"MURPHY!" howled Wainscoat, scaring the life out of the Professor. "Some weirdo has wandered on to my site! Get rid of him!"
The man stepped forward, shaking his head. "I am no weirdo, sir. I am in fact the answer to your problem."
Wainscoat and Breck looked at each other in disbelief. "What the Sam Hill are you talking about?" shouted Wainscoat, making Breck wince again.
The man beamed. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am the Doctor, and something of an expert in these matters. Here are my credentials." He reached inside his jacket and produced a large manila envelope. He opened it up and paused. "Could either of your gentlemen give me today's date?"
"Date?" thundered Wainscoat.
"15th May," replied Breck, bewildered. "Why?"
"Just for my records," the Doctor replied smoothly. "15th May, nineteen...?" he looked at Breck questioningly.
"1977."
"Ah splendid!" cried the Doctor, and plucked a sheet free from the envelope and passed it to Wainscoat. "I think you'll find this in order..."
Wainscoat peered at the sheet suspiciously. "What's this?"
"A declaration allowing me full access and responsibility privileges." He pointed out the signatures at the bottom. "As you can see, it's signed by quite a variety. Your esteemed President Mr Carter, the Chief of Staff, the Head of the CIA - both yours and mine, of course..."
Wainscoat peered at one of the signatures. "What's this squiggle at the bottom?"
"That one? Ah, yes, that's Elizabeth R. Queen Elizabeth the Second of Great Britain, that is. I do recall she'd hurt her wrist playing snooker in a doubles match with 'Hurricane' Higgins, Prince Philip and I. My fault, I do apologise for the confusion."
Wainscoat shook his head, completely nonplussed. The signatures looked authentic, but... "MURPHY! Get this checked out pronto!" He turned back to the Doctor and began to speak. "Now you just listen here... hey!" The Doctor was already wandering down to the barn. Wainscoat and Breck had to run in order to catch up with him. The Doctor paused and looked at them mildly.
"Yes?"
"You can't just wander down there. It's dangerous!" insisted Wainscoat.
"Not at all!" the Doctor laughed. "I shall be perfectly safe."
"Bullshit!" roared Wainscoat.
The Doctor sniffed the air. "Ionised sulphur, actually. It's what they use to fuel their propulsion. Pongs a touch, doesn't it?"
"How can you be so sure you will be all right?" scowled Breck. He didn't know who this man was, but he was starting to resent his intrusion. Breck had been looking forward to dealing with this situation personally. Images of talk shows, best selling books, maybe even the Nobel Prize, had filled his mind all morning. He hadn't been this excited since 1942.
"Because the owners of that spacecraft belong to a species who are not usually known for invading other peoples planets, not any other form of nuisance, for that matter." The Doctor frowned at Breck in recognition. "Johann von Breckenstein, isn't it?"
Breck went pale and cast a sideways glance at Wainscoat. Few knew who he really was, or what he used to be. He didn't like to be reminded, and he was certain other people wouldn't care for the truth either. Especially a nincompoop like Wainscoat. "Nein... I mean no! I am no longer by that name known."
The Doctor nodded understandingly. "Ah yes, joined the Americans after the war, didn't you? American citizen now, eh, well well..." He chuckled. "A long way from Peenemunde isn't it? I do hope the American government has found a less destructive use for your talents." Breck spluttered and turned away, the exact reaction the Doctor was looking for. The Doctor turned to Wainscoat and said soothingly: "You needn't worry at all, Colonel. I'll have this business sorted out in a jiffy, and then you can go back to running your convenience store."
Wainscoat gaped at the Doctor. "How do you know I run a convenience store... MURPHY!"
But before anyone could anything else, the Doctor had dashed down to the barn and disappeared inside. Breck clutched at Wainscoat's arm. "The fool! Does he not realise the danger he is putting us all in?"
Wainscoat shook his head wearily. "That guy is a steer short of a herd, that's for sure. C'mon Professor, we'll go wait where it's safe. Just hope the damn peckerwood doesn't get us all killed!" A thought occurred that cheered him up. "Maybe when he starts screaming we can blast 'em!"
Wainscoat marched back towards his forces slightly happier. Breck glowered at him and muttered: "Dumpkopf."
***
Several minutes passed. Wainscoat crouched behind the safety of a sandbagged machine gun emplacement, chewing his cigar, poised to unleash the full might of his forces upon the invaders. Beside him Breck was playing with a slide rule and trying to work out exactly how the aliens got here.
The barn door opened and a figure ambled out, hands in pockets, and started to come towards them. "He's out!" yelled Wainscoat, jumping up and dashing over. Breck joined him.
The Doctor rubbed his hands at their approach and beamed victoriously. "Gentlemen, I think I've found the solution to our problem."
"You have established contact?" gaped Breck.
"Oh, in a trice!" the Doctor admitted.
"They didn't try to attack you?" asked Wainscoat, looking more than slightly disappointed.
"Not in the slightest. Colonel, do understand;" he began patiently. "These creatures are not here to invade your planet, destroy your cities, drain your oceans, kidnap your women or attempt anything outrageous with cold metal probes."
"What about the cattle?" asked Wainscoat suspiciously.
"Completely unharmed. In fact, they've established a good rapport with Belle, Jess and the other ladies inside."
"What!" exclaimed Wainscoat and Breck in unison. The Doctor smiled.
"Our friends in there are not here by design. They simply wandered off course whilst on their way to a robotics conference on Bellatrix and landed here to stretch their legs. Alas," and the Doctor pulled a grave face, "they made one fatal mistake..."
"Which was?" asked Breck breathlessly.
The Doctor hesitated. "They locked their keys in their ship." He looked from one man to the other. "Does either of you have a bent piece of wire? A coat-hanger, perhaps?" he asked hopefully.
***
Wainscoat was slumped over the rickety card table that had been set up as his desk in the command tent that had been set up some way from the barn. He was gazing blankly at an empty report form.
"How the hell am I going to write this up?" he groaned.
"I wouldn't bother," replied the Doctor, buffing his nails on his lapel. "These things take care of themselves. Once our friends have warmed their motors up they'll be on their way directly." He produced a pocket watch and frowned. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must dash, or I'll be late for an appointment. Tea with the in-laws, or prospective in-laws anyway." He grinned. "Must set a good example early on, eh?"
He made to leave but Breck barred his path. "Colonel, you cannot just let this man go like this. There are things that need explaining!" Breck puffed himself up. "Science requires a answer!"
The Doctor blinked at him, and for a moment something dark crossed his face, but it was gone in an instant. "Professor, some questions are better left unanswered." He caught sight of something through the tent flap and smiled. "Ah, in fact, here are the gentlemen to make all your problems disappear." He politely pushed Breck aside and opened the tent flap. "This way, gentlemen!" he called.
Two men stepped inside the tent. One was tall, white and craggy faced, the other was smaller, black, and with a distinctively large pair of ears. Both were dressed in identical black suits and wore sunglasses. The Doctor nodded to them.
"Mr Kay. Mr Jay. Today's little problem."
They nodded back. "Thanks Doctor," said the taller man, a hint of a smile playing round his stoic features.
"See you around," said the smaller one, his smile more apparent.
"Indeed." The Doctor gave Wainscoat and Breck a final farewell wave and disappeared outside.
"What the hell is going on here?" shouted Wainscoat. "MURPHY!"
The taller man held up a hand. "If you please, Colonel. We're here to explain everything." He nodded to his associate, who pulled a slim silver pen-like object from his jacket. He held it up.
"Say cheese," he grinned.
There was a blinding white flash...
And then the Doctor was right. All their troubles did disappear...
