Free An Alien Rescue by Gordon Mackay Page B

think you should keep this information to yourself and not disclose it to anyone else.”
    “OK,” he readily agreed. Whoops , he thought to himself. Perhaps he shouldn’t have mentioned it at all. He also felt a little excited knowing he might own a little bit of flying saucer metal and began to formulate a simple experiment to test this revelation when he returned home, should he be allowed to remember all he had just heard. A simple battery with a couple of wires should do it, he figured.
    “What’s the black dust then?” he wondered out loud.
    “It’s probably dust from your moon, which is very black on the surface.”
    He almost jumped with joy. “Holy smoke, I’ve got my own Moondust! I’ve got some bits of the moon in my garage. Hey-hey and bloody-hell. Fan-friggen-tastic! I’ll definitely try and remember all of this.”
    Belinda was a little concerned. Should all this information get into the wrong hands, the evidence for extraterrestrial life and intervention would be readily at hand, and many secrets would be available. She knew she had to change the subject - and very quickly.
    Taking him by the hand once again, she gave him a not-so gentle tug to distract his thoughts. “Follow me,” she commanded.
    He knew he wasn’t supposed to have the metal box or the dust, so decided not to raise the subject again, unless prompted to do so.
    She led Scott to a slightly raised platform, directly below an opening in the roof.
    “This looks like an elevator. Is it?” he asked inquisitively, even though he already knew what the reply would be. Everything he was seeing he felt he already knew; it just needed to be shown and explained to him again.
    “Yes, it is an elevator, as you call it. It will take us up to the Control Deck.”
    “The name, Drang, means something to me,” said Scott. “As soon as you said Control Deck, the word entered my head. You mentioned the word, Drang, earlier. Why?” he asked.
    “Drang is the name of the pilot who coordinated the ship you were on with Frell.”
    “Erm, does that mean there’s a pilot on this ship too?” he asked wondering if there was another person on board.
    “Yes, there is another. You will meet her in a moment.”
    Scott’s stood open-mouthed. A, her, meant another woman, and, she, was a pilot. He was impressed. Female pilots were a recent innovation in the Royal Air Force and he thought the idea was brilliant. There were plenty of excellent female drivers back home too, where he would often see a woman handling her car with the enough grace and style befitting that of an expert. He’d sometimes wondered if they could pilot an aircraft as well as they drove. He enjoyed seeing women in technical jobs, employment where male chauvinists firmly believed only men could manage. Scott could never stifle a grin when he chanced upon any woman in one of these occupations, feeling pleased for them and their against-convention efforts. He could never bring himself to tell them how pleased he was to see them doing what they had chosen for an occupation as it would have sounded patronising to the extreme, possibly as if he was just trying to get into their pants. He never fancied a slap across the face either! There were many girls serving in the RAF, many doing jobs that some chaps thought they shouldn’t be. He always gave them positive encouragement and corrected any misgivings slighted by some ignorant male colleagues.
    “Please stand very close to me and keep your arms close by your sides?”
    Scott practically stood with his body pressed against hers as he took hold of one of her hands. Once again, he felt how soft and warm it was, enjoying the sensation as a comforting feeling entered him. She was so pleased he had done this and felt surprised. She could hear his breathing while he stood alongside her and felt the warmth of his breath on her neck; such was the closeness of their bodies. She released another sigh, but much shallower than previously.
    Without