First part is a flashback, then it gets to the good stuff.

-Tyrammafar the Worldmaker

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All’s Well

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Chapter 1

Crash-Landing

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Many that live in the United States think that their government hides things from them, little things that don’t really matter in your life, but are interesting to think about. Like the one about a hundred-mile to the gallon engine that oil companies bought the patent for and are sitting on. Or maybe the one about mind-control chemicals in toothpaste. Or, maybe, there are flying cars in a warehouse in Ohio, or maybe even that alien that crashed in Roswell way back when. Hey, we like to dream don’t we? What’s the harm in dreaming?

Alas, truth is always stranger than fiction. It is a strange thing about how much the government hides from us, but even stranger that there is no reason for it. Why hide something that wouldn’t make any difference to normal life? Well, to pay that something minimum wage, unions can’t know about him, can they? It is the last of those conspiracy theories that I’d like to talk about.

You see, it all began one lonely night in a tiny, out of the way town in the United States. No one knew it even existed; it was barely even on the map back then.

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Roswell, New Mexico

July 7, 1947

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The creature lifted its head to stare at blank metal, the gloom thick as a tangible fog. It blinked slowly, massive black eyes taking in more light than any other being on this planet, able to see in almost complete darkness. Because it seemed gloomy in the chamber, it must have truly been pitch-black. The creature sat up in scattered debris, a control panel nearby sparking. There was a little light filtering into this ship, for ship it was, through a gaping hole to one side. The thick hull had been torn apart, and where the engine had once been was a crater in the metal. This being crawled forward, shaking its head to clear its mind.

This being was alien to this world, and it knew it from the taste in the air. It had been traveling through this solar system to avoid intergalactic freeways, bypassing traffic by many parsecs. It hadn’t however, counted on a large object hurtling through space towards the third planet of the system, an asteroid that would have otherwise destroyed the world had his head-first impact not diverted its course. The alien stood now. It was around four and a half feet tall, with lime-green skin and a large head. The creature stepped outside of the ship, out the gaping hole and onto the smoking, burning ground of the desert. The stars burned overhead with a fiery glow, and the alien recognized none of them. With his ship destroyed and its navigation systems gone, he was well and truly lost.

It tilted its head to the side, listening as a dull roar approached in the night, and he saw two bright lights in the distance, steadily growing larger, and the sound louder. The alien reached for its weapon at its side, but tossed it away when it saw it was mangled beyond use. It was defenseless except for one thing…its mind. With much concentration it could use thought as a weapon, but it had never been the best at this and often failed at it. The roar grew and a four-wheeled vehicle slowed to a stop, a spot-light landing on the alien’s face and blinding him.

“Stop right there!” A voice yelled, being translated by the chip in the alien’s brain. “Don’t move!” The alien froze as several green-clothed men surrounded it, and it raised its hands in a gesture of peace. “Get down on the ground! I said get down!”

The alien said the only thing that came to its vast mind at that time, trying to say it out loud in their language.

“I come in peace?” It suggested, smiling. As the butt of a rifle smashed into its face, it knew it had failed in looking innocent.

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July 8, 1947

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The alien sat in a short chair, looking across the brushed steel table at the uniformed man that sat there, the light that hung from the ceiling hurting its eyes.

Or, his eyes, actually…as the alien happened to be male.

“So…” The human cleared his throat. “You mean to say that you didn’t try to come here?”

Not at all. The alien said telepathically, as this was far easier than just using the translator. In fact, I was just taking a shortcut.

“And you crashed?”

Do you see me flying away? The alien’s patience was running thin. He wanted to leave now, and get back on his way.

“Now, I’m going to ask you again…and I want you to say it clearly, and out loud. Where are you from?”

“I am from the planet of Ovask 7.” The alien said out loud. “Do you have anything to drink around here?” He was quickly picking up on the human’s manner of speech.

“Can we get some water in here?” The man said to another by his side, and the other nodded. “Do you have a name?”

“What is a name?”

“Well…it’s what we call people, you know, to identify them.” The human said. “I am called Samuel…so do you have a name?”

“I don’t.”

“Anything we could call you, something that would make this far easier for us?”

The alien looked around for something to grasp onto, something to bring an answer to his thin lips…a bit of paper sticking out of a folder on the table caught his eye, and the word on it stood out very well in his mind.

“You can call me Roswell.”

“Alright then, Roswell.” The human, Samuel, said. “So you really are an alien?”

“Being an alien is really a matter of perspective, you know; if you are not native to a place, then you are an alien.” Roswell explained. “So…yes, I suppose I am.” A glass of water was set on the table, and the alien grabbed it, drinking it quickly with a few gulps. “Ah…so now what? Am I going to get on a ship and get back in space?”

“Actually…we don’t have any ships.”

“You…don’t have ships?”

“Right.”

“Never been in space?”

“Never.”

Roswell thought for a moment. “Well then, I guess I’m stuck until the next taxi-ship comes by this planet.”

“I think I know a place where you can be secure until then.” The man said. “There is a facility many miles northwest of Las Vegas, an underground complex that might be safe to wait in. We think that would be the best place for you to stay. It…it’s not often that anything not human comes along. In fact, you’re the first. I have no idea how to handle this…and the president has not been informed as of yet. Your existence is being kept a secret for public safety.”

“Great…I’m going to be in hiding waiting for a cab.” Roswell shook his head. “So when do I leave? I haven’t slept since I hit that asteroid; I need to shut my eyes for a bit.”

“You’ll leave soon enough, once an armored car gets here to transport you.”

“What is this facility called, by the way?”

“It isn’t called anything. It’s in Lincoln County, Nevada. Nice place, but surrounded by desert.”

“Great, more heat…as if being burned in the atmosphere wasn’t good enough.”

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Lincoln County, Nevada

Area 51, Sector 6

August 9, 1997

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Roswell whistled a little tune as he mopped the white-tiled floor of the hallway, the headphones on his Walkman barely fitting around his massive head. Fifty years of waiting, and a cab still hadn’t passed by this planet…and he was still mopping floors for minimum wage. Roswell Endswell sighed as the batteries in the tape player finally died. He stuck the wooden-handled mop into the yellow, rolling bucket and attached it to his cart, looking around for spare batteries. He was already out of them. He wiped his green hands on the dark-blue jumpsuit he wore.

Fifty years was nothing to one of his species, they often lived to be a thousand, and he was quite young. The years had gone by, people had come and gone, secrets were kept and unleashed, and still he sat there in this underground facility, waiting for someone to come by and save him from this hell.

“Endswell, please report to sector nine.” The lady on the intercom said. It wasn’t a real woman, just a computer. “Endswell, please report to sector nine.” The speakers cut off. Another sigh came from the alien, and he gripped the rubber handles of the cart, trudging down the hall towards the elevator. A large man with a robotic arm passed by him, his mechanical legs whirring.

“Hey, Roswell.” He said.

“Hey, Andy.” Andy was short for android, even though the man was really a cyborg. “How’s the new job holding up?”

“Not too good.”

“Sorry to hear it. See ya round.” Roswell came to the metal doors of the elevator, which opened automatically and allowed him to enter. “Sector nine, please.” He said, and the elevator began to descend. He lashed out with is boot, crushing the speaker in a corner and stopping that annoying elevator jingle. “Told them we don’t need that…” The doors opened and he stepped out into an identical hallway to the one he had just left. A human man went past him with a briefcase and a black suit.

“Endswell.”

“Agent Harris.” The alien acknowledged. He strolled down the hallway as the man stepped into the elevator and the doors closed. A stern-looking woman stood outside a door, looking into a window that glowed green. “What’s the problem?”

“Radioactive gas.” The woman said, putting her hands to her hips and slouching in her white lab-coat. “No idea what happened, but you’re the only one who can get to the back of the chamber.”

“Fine…” Roswell left the cart, entering the little cleaning chamber behind. The first door closed and another opened, letting green light flicker over him. It was like lying in the sun to him, but a human would have been growing things in strange places, and possibly melting. He walked calmly to the back of the room and yanked a switch, which shut off a large black device on a table. The light faded and a voice came onto the room speakers. It was the woman outside.

“Thanks, we’ll let the radiation clear for a bit.”

“Whatever…” Roswell went back through the double doors, sighing once more to make a point. “I’ll just get back to cleaning sector six then.”

Another day, another dollar and sixty cents. Roswell Endswell put on a blue cap that shielded his eyes from the bright lights overhead. “This sucks…how could it get any worse?”