The Interplanetary Visit

The Island

In the air-tight, aqua boosters-equipped and oddly-colored, Mercedes "submarine," the senior agent held the steering wheel with one hand while his partner on his right was crunching away on a huge black bag of no-brand crackers as if there was no tomorrow. The no-brand crackers were one of their agency products. No added artificial flavorings and coloring agents. The snack was manufactured to provide enough calories, carbohydrates, proteins and vitamins for an entire day, and there would be no need to relieve oneself, as everything would be sufficiently absorbed unless it was gross gluttony as displayed by the younger agent. Exteriorly, the "submarine" still resembled an automobile, with the only difference that the wheels were parallel to the bottom of the car and they would spin and create a propelling vortex to keep them from sinking down to the bottom of the sea while a huge titanium "fan" attached on the hind license plate would propel them forward.

Amazingly, the "submarine" managed to keep at a speed of five hundred fifty knots per hour while traveling about a hundred meters below sea level.

"Hey, bud, enjoying yourself with those crackers of yours?" the senior agent asked, sneaking a peek at the black bag of crackers and smacking his lips.

"Yeahmm, thesemmm aremm delicciousssmm," came the done-on-purpose reply.

"Yep, maybe you should learn some etiquette and not talk with your mouth full."

"Well, it's not as if you were the Prince of Mars."

"Bud, if I was the Prince of Mars, you would be in suspended animation a long time ago."

"Like Han Solo in Star Wars?"

"Stop watching those sci-fi shows, they're rubbish and FICTIONAL!" the senior agent emphasized. "Besides, they're never close to the real stuff."

"Well, not this one! I like Darth Vader, the way he talks and uses the..."

"Asthmatic inhaler?" the senior agent cut in.

"No, you old fool, its..."

The younger agent stopped in his nonsense, he pointed and tapped to an island no more than five hundred kilometers away on the exceptionally large rear-view mirror that was linked to the "radio antenna" at the right-hand top of the car hood.

The island was around a thousand square kilometers. From the "rear-view mirror," it was a very hilly island, with hills and mountains with what seems to be a dent in the center. The entire island was old, ancient, and was covered entirely in dense foliage reaching up to several hundred meters in height. The tall foliage further added to the wall of surrounding hills, successfully hiding the center valley from prying eyes.

Probably caused by the Jovian pod impact, the younger agent thought.

"Okay, Han Solo, brace yourself, we're flying in with the Million Dollar Falcon."

"What!?!? You mean this thing can fly?" the reply came with a hint of shock and choking on crackers.

"Yep, that's the most important part we got to test out. We have to see if it crashes. And how do you reckon that we can get over that unnatural natural fortress wall of trees and hills?"

"Nice, very nice, I would appreciate if we don't dieeee...!"

The submarine broke up to the surface of the water like a dolphin and laterally below the front doors ejected two wing plates. The hind bumper rolled in, revealing boosters, as it and the exhaust pipe went into action sending them soaring up over the hills towards the "dent" with the help of the great big "fan."

The plane broke over the hills into the canopy, missing a distant shiny object that was glittering in the center of the dent. The sphere was enormous enough to break over the canopy. Taking the form of a squashed and remolded Mercedes into a rod, the automobile allowed easy maneuver through the dense forest downhill to their destination. The wheels came on down. This time, the wheels were not only on the right places, they had been slightly deflated to cushion the bumpy forest floor.