Hell's Basin, We Have A Problem
"We still have unaccounted for aliens though, right?" Lurch questioned Monday Eve.
“It's not just the basic information that's hidden on purpose; they can't even find a link between humans and these so-called aliens. Some are not from outer space, and we never actually confirmed which aliens were what from the first mission." she answered. "Another example of idiots who run things that don't know their ass from a hole in the ground."
"If they're not from outer space, then why the spaceships?" Penn asked. "So they're from where?"
"Underground, they're the ones who showed us to the minerals and other resources which were then used to craft the base of these ships they're constructing. They use a weaving pattern, and the friction loss is only 5%, making maintenance, cloaking and flight easier."
"So can we go into outer space?" Penn asked with a sparkle in his eye.
"Let's get it out the gate first, we don't even know if this is going to work; pulling off a stunt like this is dangerous at best."
Penn and Teller were now seated at one of the smaller tables, a look of worry was plastered on their faces. Their whole belief of what aliens were and weren't had been brought into question. What’s more, apparently, they, whoever they were, were trying to construct a fleet of spaceships. However, Penn and Teller also knew that these people weren't too damned happy with Area 51 or NASA and took it upon themselves to break a few underground laws. So there was that element that they were probably classified as fugitives and here they were, at their base and aiding and abetting in the theft of craft that were built by beings that most people don't know even exist. The gravity of this situation was now starting to seep in.
Ben got up and backed away from the table. The spider had decided it wanted Ben's chair. Mole jumped back and everyone cleared away from the table.
"What's the spider's name?" Teller asked Sketch.
"Midgetknuckle." Sketch answered.
"You know," Penn started. “If there are aliens in those things up there, floating over the planet in a spaceship and causing a magnetic storm as a cover, why would you fear NASA? They could just map the desert floor, or whatever their problem is. So why care about NASA?" "Because, Fester," Breaker said, "we're using their stuff."
“Oh shit! A pane is down out there, we’re getting zero thermal reading up here now!" Sketch reported. "And the ships are here, if my reading is correct, we've got 285 feet," Ben added.
Sketch took her miniature tool set and headed out the door. For some reason, everyone followed her outside. Sketch trotted over to the stray rock shaped panel and picked it up. Penn and Teller helped her clip it back into place. They got it back the appropriate height and angle. Everyone looked up at the strange, lingering storm.
There was another red flash of light coming through the clouds. Something odd was coming through the clouds; it looked like the bottom part of some type of craft. Though rather faint, it at first looked as if it was part of the cloud itself, but the glow of amber and bronze was now visible. Everyone was standing and staring.
"How is NASA stealing this?" Ben asked Dr. George. "They've got tracking on it. The beam isn't secure, but my readings have picked up a tracking beam. The ship isn't in position to break away, or attempting a break away. No pilots. This is either a hovering test run or 51 has been broken into again." Dr. George said.
"Again?!" Penn exclaimed. "Yeah," Monday Eve said with a sigh.
“Wait! We can’t be directly under that ship! I don’t know if it’s reached polar reversal, we don't know if it's hovering on instruments or not. We could be Swiss cheese if we stay out here!" Isotophes indicated. They started back inside the base.
"How do we really know if there's no pilot?" Breaker insisted. “Okay, we’ll not let them see us freak. We go down fighting! No shooting until it becomes necessary!" Dr. George commanded.
They all stood within the ominous glow of the spacecraft. They looked at each other, trying to think of something. Then, almost at once, mingled shouts imminated from the group.
“Come get me I.T.!" Ben shouted out. “I think it’s E.T." Sketch reminded him. "Your ship is so bland, it’s off center!" “Nazis are more threatening, even in Lederhosen!" "You can’t even explore other planets because you're always drunk." Other unseemly remarks of the sort were uttered as the group ran towards the building.
“Oh, probe this!" Penn added his two cents. They ran as fast as they could while the spider, unnoticed, ran behind them and through the doors as the crew got back inside.
They all stood up against the doors while catching their breath. They backed away from the doors slowly, huddled together. The door flew open, allowing a thin layer of smoke to travel through the open space. They all scattered and ran into their hiding places, leaving Teller standing alone. “Oh fuck this!" He said before also running away.
A figure walked into the main room, lit up a cigarette and looked back at the doors. “Alright, get your asses in here!" The strange person ordered to some unseen people who were apparently waiting outside.
Dr. George recognized an old friend and came up to greet him. Smiling he introduced him to the others. "Mortamule Snide, everyone!"
Penn and Teller who were walking up to greet him, suddenly turned around and went back to their table and sat down with annoyed looks on their faces. The group exchanged dry hellos. They noticed that their new visitor was wearing a black jumpsuit with an 'Area 51 Security' patch on his arm.
"So where are these other people you brought here?" Dr. George asked, looking out the doors. "Nah, I was just pulling your chain." Mortamule said. "Anyway yeah, well, I may have gotten the goddamn ships, but we have a problem," Mortamule took a deep puff off his cigarette and went on to explain.
“One ship was my only plan, stealing the one ship that I went to all the trouble of disconnecting from their hangar equipment and computers. Apparently it was a mother ship and the damned thing was still maintaining a tractor beam with all the other spacecraft in the flight bay."
“Which means?" asked Dr. George, a nervous look on his face. “Go look outside, we’ve got something like forty two fucking UFOs parked out there." Mortamule said as he checked his watch.
"How did you fly it out here without even us detecting any life form on board?" Lurch asked.
"I'm a UFO pilot, I can do whatever the hell I want." Lurch accepted that answer, shrugged and walked away. "He's wearing a special fabric, it. . .blends." Monday Eve told Lurch.
"Are we still safe here?" Sketch wondered. "Look, if you're stealing a TV from a store and the wires are dangling behind you while you run out the door, you don't stop and pick them up, you just fucking run." Mortamule said. "Makes sense." Sketch accepted his analogy.
All of a sudden, Penn and Teller didn't want to be there. What with all the borrowed equipment from NASA and the many wonderful, yet stolen spaceships from Area 51, it just didn't seem like them. They began working out some kind of bizarre disclaimer in their heads, but gave up after five minutes.
"Well, we're going now, it's been nice meeting all of you, it's been real, have fun now." Penn said as he and Teller headed towards the entrance. The others looked at them with blank expressions.
"We're not calling the feds, we're not with the CIA, we're not goons from NASA, we're nobody! Just two lost magicians who ran out of gas!" Penn began to weep, "We do tricks, with cards and knives, and maybe an occasional gun or two, so please let us go!" He begged.
Mortamule looked at them studiously. A slight expression of recognition came over his face. “Two magicians? What are your names?"
"Fester and Renfield," Penn answered.
"Never heard of you."
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