As Charlie and Fitz left the windswept flight deck of the Hornet and entered the ship, President Nixon was there to meet them. “Mr. Duke!” he said happily. “Glad to see you could make it. I’m sorry for the trouble you ran into on the way here.”
He noticed Fitz, who was spectating off to one side with dropped mouth and trembling limbs. “Who’s this?”
“Specialist Second Class Parson, sir!” Fitz said, snapping so straight it seemed his spine might break and saluting crisply.
“Ah yes, the backup copilot,” Nixon said, smiling. “Specialist, you’ll find quarters have been prepared for you in the officer’s section—there will be a nameplate by the door, I believe. Why don’t you go find your room?”
“Yessir!” Fitz blurted, and he was off like a shot, moving as quickly as he could while maintaining composure. The moment he turned the corner, however, his footsteps quickened greatly, accompanied by a rapidly-fading noise which sounded a bit like “Squee!”
“Now that we’re alone,” Nixon said, “We can talk more classified information. Mr. Armstrong, Mr. Aldrin, and Mr. Collins have done exemplary jobs under the circumstances—they’ve learned quite a bit about Luna, her homeworld, and culture. They’ve only been able to send a few tidbits down, to keep security tight, but what they’ve already given us could keep the analysts busy for years. I want to brief you quickly so you know the basics.
“Luna’s species name apparently means ‘The People’—as do most names—but in English it translates to a rough analogue of ‘Ponies.’ I’m sure you can see why.
“Her species has four distinct races, very different from one another—like dogs or cats, it seems. One race is quite similar to our own four-legged herbivores. Another, the ‘pegasi,’ can fly. The third, the ‘unicorns,’” He paused for a moment. “It’s remarkable that mythology has such close analogues to these creatures. An interesting coincidence. But I digress—this race can apparently manipulate some kind of energy field which translates roughly as ‘magic.’ Obviously, it’s not—Luna seems to be quite well versed in the mechanics of the field, and it’s ostensibly measureable, according to her.
“Luna’s race is called the ‘alicorns,’ and they are mixtures of all three other races, possessing the strengths of all three. They’re quite rare according to Luna.
“Now, that’s all we’ve been able to transmit—others may have gotten snippets of it even as the situation stands. We’ll be getting a full briefing from the three, and hopefully more from the alien, during and after the quarantine process.”
Charlie nodded.
Nixon continued, “The reason I’m telling you all this is because, while Neil and the others are doing admirably, I want someone official on the job. You’ve demonstrated that you work well with the three, and because their job descriptions are going to be changing to “Liaisons” most likely, I want you as the official head of the team.”
He looked the stunned Charlie straight in the eye, and asked solemnly, “Would you be willing to accept the post? In all likelihood, you’d be giving up the chance to go to the Moon yourself.”
Charlie didn’t hesitate. “Of course, sir, I’ll accept. Being a diplomat with aliens—aliens, sir!—is more than a satisfactory replacement.”
The president’s face wrinkled in warmth. “I knew you’d take the post,” he said, offering his hand. “The pencil-pushers haven’t come up with a properly long and formal title for the job, but I’m sure they will soon. For the moment, you’re Head of the Extraterrestrial Liaison Team. As if that term wasn’t already weighty enough.”
He dropped Charlie’s hand. “In other words, the mathematicians have been working on flight solutions for the mission overtime, and so the landing won’t be in three days from takeoff as originally planned. They cut as much time off as they could calculate in the time given, which means the total time was cut to two and a half days.” He checked his watch.
“In other words, in about two hours. I’d recommend you get your room as you like it, and then join me up on the bridge. Your quarters are also in the officer’s block, with a nametag near the door.” He turned and walked away.
A broad grin on his face, Charlie made his way to his room, and that grin only widened as he found Fitz’s room only a few doors down from his. He knocked, and Fitz instantly opened the door. “Come in!” he urged.
The moment the door closed, Charlie was bombarded with Fitz’s excited dialogue. “We met the president! He spoke to me!” he squealed. “That’s so incredible! You think you could get me his autograph? Or maybe you could get it on your sling!” he continued, gently rapping Charlie’s broken arm, mindful of the break.
Charlie grinned. “I’m sure I could convince him to eventually give you an autograph,” he said. “But I’m here to give you a piece of news and a proposition.
“First, it turns out that the Columbia has sped up—it’ll be landing in just a few hours. If you get on the flight deck, you might even catch a glimpse of the alien,” he hinted.
Fitz’s eyes grew huge. “Thanks for the tip!” he said enthusiastically. “What’s the news?”
“I’ve just been offered the job of—“ he paused for a second, trying to remember the name. “—Head of the Extraterrestrial Liaison Team, and I’ve accepted. I have no idea what the job entails or what privileges the office is going to get, but I’d bet it’ll need a transportation department.” He watched with amusement as Fitz hung on every word, still not realizing what he was saying.
Charlie smirked as he dropped the bombshell, his smile widening with every word. “Know any backup helicopter copilots that might want to be Head Pilot for the Extraterrestrial Liaison Team?”
The pilot’s breath caught in his throat. He tried to speak, but all that came out was choked noises, which Charlie had expected. Then, he fainted, which Charlie hadn’t been expecting. Charlie wasn’t fast enough to catch him, and his head clunked nastily against the wall when he fell.
Charlie sat him up. “Fitz, are you alright?” he asked, prodding his shoulder.
Groggily, the pilot’s eyes blinked open. “You jerk,” he mumbled. “That’s not how you extend a job offer.”
“Good, you’re alright.” Charlie helped him stand as Fitz rubbed his head.
“Of course!”
“What?” Charlie asked. “Yes, you’re alright?”
“I mean to the job offer,” Fitz said, beaming widely, but faltering as the action made his head twinge. “You think I’m going to turn down something that awesome? Being a helicopter pilot for astronauts—AND an alien? Did you even have to ask?”
“Yeah,” Charlie laughed. “I wanted to see how’d you react!”
Fitz waved him off, grumbling, “Get outta here,” but his heart wasn’t in it. He was too delighted to stay upset for more than a handful of seconds. “So, you said the Columbia’s going to land in a couple hours?” he asked. At Charlie’s affirmation, he said, “Then I’d better get going—If I want a spot close enough to the hanger downstairs, I’d better claim it now.” He opened the door, already bouncing on his toes in impatience. “See you later!” he called as he jogged down to monopolize the front-row seats.
Shaking his head, Charlie shut the door behind him and began to make his way to the bridge.