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      The Alien’s Secret

      Volume 2

      Robert M. Doroghazi

      Copyright © 2015 Robert M. Doroghazi, MD

       [email protected]

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical or by any information or storage and retrieval system without written permission from the author or publisher.

      Cover art by Jessica Parks

      Edited by Geoffrey Doyle

      Published in eBook format by AKA-Publishing

      Converted by http://www.eBookIt.com

      ISBN-13: 978-1-9421-6804-1

      AKA-Publishing

      Columbia, Missouri

      Author’s Note

      I hated college English class. The word symbolism brings back nothing but unpleasant memories. My interpretation of everything was inevitably different than the instructor’s, which meant I was always wrong. A guy in a wife-beater undershirt kills a woman in a drunken rage with a pick ax between the eyes: that sounded pretty nasty to me. Sorry, Robert: you didn’t appreciate the irony, the sarcasm, the pathos, and the inner turmoil. Nope, guess I missed that. I’m not sure whether it was my crew cut, or that I suggested we read Robert Louis Stevenson’s Treasure Island or Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn, rather than Eldridge Cleaver’s Soul on Ice that upset them. I was told I would never get into medical school with an attitude like that. You’re lucky to get a B minus there, fella. Looking back, I think they were all just a bunch of pot-smoking hippies.

      I’ll save you all that phooey and tell you straightaway what this story is about. There is no doubt who the bad guys are: they say bad things and do bad things; they manipulate people, steal from them, lie to them, and abuse, then discard them. The good guys are the Lone Ranger, Sergeant York, Audie Murphy, June and Ward Cleaver type: clean-cut, hard-working, loyal, honest people of character, willing to die for what they believe in.

      Since political (in)correctness now mandates trigger warnings, I caution you that this book will make you sad, mad, and happy, make you laugh and cry, make you feel humbled, proud and embarrassed, make you want to hug and kiss your kids­—and could offend you.

      Chapter Twenty-Eight

      Day One: Trip to Earth

      A little more than three hours down, with five days, give or take one day or maybe even more, and about 200 trillion kilometers, to go to Earth. The Gunslinger was no longer receiving the energy boost from the Rankin Cube. Its job done far beyond everyone’s wildest expectations, the energy receptor panel folded silently back down, barely breaking the outline of the top of the fuselage, a subtle ridge barely more than a dimple on the top of the ship.

      Hoken had never spent any time in the cockpit of a warplane, but he was already starting to feel comfortable and get settled in. The adrenaline rush of the seemingly long-past takeoff had faded away. Things were running smoothly; which was exactly how he liked it.

      Hoken had made a nice start on his preparation for the mission before takeoff, but like all hard-working, conscientious over-achievers, he was ready to push on and get started. There was a lot more to learn.

      “Computer, display my schedule for the next six hours.”

      Hoken looked down. He was surprised, then actually a little disappointed, with the first thing on the list: “Optional one hour sleep period.”

      Hoken shook his head. He was thinking about a lot of things, and sleep wasn’t one of them. If it’s optional, he thought, that means it’s optional, and I don’t need it. He did feel a little tired, and actually a little sleepy, but this was the most important mission of his life, so he fought the urge.

      Just then, Colonel Hasemereme’s voice came over the speaker. “Major, your schedule says ‘optional sleep period.’ ”

      Amazing, thought Hoken, it’s like he’s reading my mind. “I just pulled up my schedule, Sir. I see that.” With a very slight sharpness, almost a tone of protest, Hoken said, “But I feel fine. I have a lot to do. I’d like to go straight to the first work session and start on my English.”

      “Nice try, Major,” said Hasemereme with almost a chuckle. “But you know one of the things we’re monitoring is your EEG, your brain waves, and the Duelloh waves say you’re really getting sleepy.”

      Hoken was impressed. They could read his mind—almost, but close enough. Was there anything he couldn’t hide? But he wasn’t about to show any weakness and admit he was even a little sleepy. “Colonel, I feel—”

      Atos interrupted. “Major, you’ve been up for thirty-two hours and you’ve accomplished a lot, everything that’s been expected of you and more. I’ve been up for thirty-five hours. I’m not really sleepy, but keeping on focus is getting a little more difficult. I must admit, I’m ready for a break.”

      Hasemereme continued right on without interruption. “I didn’t even have to discuss this with General Ribbert. Just a few minutes ago he told me that you need to sleep. We feel the next hour can be put to best use by both of us getting a little rest. You can study English while you sleep. Put on the nasal cannula, the sleep learning device, and just close your eyes. The computer will awaken you in exactly one hour.”

      “Yes, Sir,” replied Hoken, knowing deep down that Hasemereme was right, and also knowing that he got him to admit first that he was tired before Hoken said he was.

      Hoken had so much to learn during the trip; his time had been scheduled to the minute. There were three main areas of focus. About half of the time he was awake, and almost all while he was asleep, would be spent learning English. If this went well, there would be a few sessions on customs, then current events, politics, and history. Even though he would do everything possible on Earth to keep personal contact to a minimum, he still had to be able to move around without raising suspicion. He had to learn enough in a week to become a functioning member of society.

      He was going to the United States of America, the most prosperous and powerful country on Earth, so he had to know English. When the Orian military linguists began to study English, they were impressed with its logic, grace, and simplicity. They were able to quickly devise a program that would allow Hoken to master the language in the time required.

      The Orians also had another advantage, and it was a really big one, that made this quick, intensive study possible; the Orian brain is hard-wired for language much differently, and in this case, much better than the human brain. If an Earthling isn’t introduced to a language by about age seven or eight, they will always have at least a slight, telltale accent. It’s like a tattoo on their speech; you can rub and scrape, but no matter how hard you try, you just can’t get rid of it. Orians can learn a language at any age with perfect syntax, and without an accent; just like they might learn a trade or how to swim or how to play an instrument.

      But for Hoken and for this mission, the task was even greater. He must be fluent not only in English, but also basic conversational Russian. The human that Hoken would possess spoke Russian. The goal was to learn enough to carry on a basic conversation. There certainly wasn’t enough time to learn the Cyrillic alphabet. He didn’t need to be able to read Tolstoy or Dostoevsky in the original.(Who would want to anyway?) He just needed to know enough to get by.

      About a third of Hoken’s waking time would be spent mastering the use of the rifle, rehearsing over and over—and over—and over and over, more than a thousand times, that fifteen-second sequence from when Rennedee came into view until he got off three perfect shots. The real winners can visualize victory long before they cross the finish line.

      The rest of the time would be spent on the plan itself: how

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