This Guy Again

72 17 15

Agent Randall Calhoun of the Federal Bureau of Investigation walked out from the darkness and leveled a handgun directly at Ace.

Pradeep yelped again and darted his hands straight up.

Ace casually raised his hands and thought to himself, This guy again...

"Well, well, well," Agent Calhoun said as he took a step closer. "Somehow I knew it would be you behind all this ruckus. You think you can come down here. To my planet and mess with the house of the King of Rock 'n' Roll? No sir."

Calhoun pulled out a pair of handcuffs as he approached Ace.

"What does he mean, 'your planet'?" Pradeep said with worry in his eyes. He tried to inch away from Ace, but Calhoun stopped him dead in his tracks.

"Hey! Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Hold on there, Sanjay Gupta!" Calhoun pronounced it Goopter. "You stay put. I'll deal with you in a minute." Then to Ace, he said, "And you, Buck Rogers! Turn around slowly and put your hands behind your back. Any sudden movements and I'll see if you have green blood like that Doctor Spock. You got me?"

Ace opened his mouth about to correct Calhoun that it was Mister Spock, not Doctor. He was amused with himself because it was the type of thing Ivan would do.

Ivan's media stash included some sci-fi movies and shows including the entire run of the 1960s television program, Star Trek. It was one of their favorites. Ivan, however, took his fandom one step further and wrote Star Trek fan fiction in his spare time. Ace enjoyed the continued journeys of the Enterprise crew as told by Ivan Chimpanov but thought it got a little heady at times. And the continual romantic subplots between Kirk and Chekov tended to meander a bit.

Ace decided to hold his tongue and not correct Calhoun mostly because of the gun. Yet the butchered Star Trek reference convinced Ace that Calhoun knew Ace was from outer space.

Ace narrowed his eyes and began to turn around in a slow, deliberate movement as not to spook Calhoun. He slowly brought his hands down and clenched his jaw.

How the hell does he know? Ace thought.

Ace could feel Calhoun standing right behind him. The agent grabbed Ace by the arm and pulled it up twisting it in an unnatural position. He heard the agent holster his pistol then the clank of metal chains. Calhoun slapped a handcuff on Ace's right wrist; the cop leaned in close to Ace's ear.

"How's that feel, spaceman?" Calhoun said. Ace could smell the cop's rancid breath, which also had a hint of something sweet. Donuts?

Ace had never eaten a donut, but he recalled multiple references to police officers and their affinity for the round confections. Ivan was particularly fond of an advertisement for donuts that appeared several times in his media stash. Commercial advertisements were prevalent throughout the galaxy, so they were easy to spot. For some reason, Ivan loved watching an ad for a restaurant called Dunkin' Donuts. It depicted a man who religiously rose before dawn to make fresh donuts for appreciative customers. Every day the pudgy man with a large mustache would waddle into the store and say, "Time to make the donuts."

"When I got the call, I didn't believe it at first," Calhoun said. "A real-life ET? In Tennessee? Well, I didn't believe it at first, but after that little stunt you pulled at the rest stop...Let's just say, I've been looking forward to our second meeting. Now hold still."

It felt like Calhoun was about to slap on the other handcuff, and Ace cursed under his breath.

Calhoun paused for a beat. "What you say, boy? Something about donuts?"

Ace Tucker Space TruckerWhere stories live. Discover now