The Perfect Specimen
by David Crutcher

            The mirror image of the Reno skyline reflected off the brilliantly shining underbelly of the alien craft.
            “Pick one out already!” yelled Slug impatiently from the primary command terminal, “We need to begin our next set of experiments!”
            “Alright, alright,” Crawler mumbled back from the targeting computer, located two levels below, becoming increasingly irritated by the disembodied voice yelling at him over the ship’s intercom.
            It’s not like this was their first mission.  Crawler was no novice.  He certainly knew the minimum requirements necessary for a viable specimen.  He just wanted to take his time and get the “perfect one” this time; not like all of the others now lying dissected and discarded in the desert.
            “O.k.!  O.k!, I’ve locked-in on one!” Crawler communicated up to Primary Command, “Take us in a little closer, and I’ll transport it into the holding bay.”
            “We are directly above the coordinates you locked into Primary Command, Crawler.  Are you prepared to acquire the specimen?”
            “Ready!” Crawler gleefully shouted.
            “Four, three, two, one…”
            “I have it!  Specimen secure in Holding Bay 13.”
            “Well done, Crawler!  Please sanitize and secure the specimen.  I will be down shortly to assist with the experiments!  Don’t start without me this time!”
            After what seemed like an eternity, Crawler could wait no longer.  He began without Slug, yet once again, and yet once again, he was disappointed with the quality and tolerance of the specimen.
            “Geez, these just don’t hold up like they used to,” Crawler sighed in disgust.
            At that moment, Slug burst into the holding bay.
            “Hey!  What happened!  You were supposed to wait for me!  I had all our snacks fried up and the Earth comedy, “Star Trek,” set-up on the master viewer, wired to play in this holding bay!”
            “Well, I just got too excited,” Crawler replied, “and jumped the gun again.”
            “Dammit!  Now we have to start all over!”
            “Be prepared to jettison the carcass once we’re over the desert.”
            “Yes, Slug,” Crawler replied.
With that said, Slug left the holding bay to quickly return to Primary Command.  His single thought being a quick return to the desert north of town.
            KATHUNK!  And it was over.  The carcass was now just another part of the Black Rock Desert.
            “Martha!  Martha!  Come take a look at this mess,” Ron yelled over their yet-to-be-converted-to-digital television set.
            “Some damn group of juvenile delinquents just dumped another broken Chesterfield out back of the trailer!”