PART SIXTY-ONE
July 10, 1947
Copper Summit, Arizona
“Got ‘em!” Amar cried gleefully. “I knew it was only a matter of time before one of them activated a communicator!”
“But…are you sure that was a communicator?” Malik said, trying to sound doubtful instead of hopeful. “It was just one tone.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Amar said. “That was no Earth frequency. Those apes don’t even know those frequencies exist.”
“Did you get enough to triangulate the position?” Malik asked, hoping against hope that the answer was no.
It wasn’t. “You bet!” Amar said with satisfaction. “And guess where it is? Roswell. Hard to believe, but it looks like those humans aren’t so dumb after all.” He stood up. “I’ll tell the Leader,” he announced smugly, obviously anticipating that his news would be welcome.
Don’t bet on it, Malik thought bitterly as Amar headed for the airlock. The last thing the Leader wanted was anything interrupting his work, and losing his engineer for even a short time would do just that. And given the rumored new abilities of the Royal Warders, there was always the possibility he would lose both his engineer and his interface with the human world permanently. He was unlikely to receive this news cheerfully.
The minutes ticked by as Malik fretted. How could this have happened? He was absolutely certain that child could hear him. Had she not delivered the message? But she must have. She had certainly proven her pluck resisting Amar’s telepathic threats; delivering his message should have been simple by comparison. But what other reason could there be? Certainly Brivari would have warned everyone not to use a communicator. What was going on that would make someone feel the need to take that kind of risk?
Finally Amar emerged from the airlock looking decidedly less smug than when he went in. “What happened?” Malik asked.
“He’s angry,” Amar said grimly. “Says we missed something. And he wants to know why none of them have activated a communicator until now, and even that looks like it was a mistake. I told him that Brivari must have suspected we were here.” He paused. “You don’t think that girl could hear us, do you?”
“Absolutely not,” Malik said firmly, “and this is the proof. If she could hear us, if she knew anything at all about them, she would have warned them, and none of them would have been stupid enough to go anywhere near a communicator. We did not miss anything.”
“Oh, we missed something all right,” Amar said, with a dark look at the communications console. “But not this time. We’re leaving in five minutes.”
Amar stalked off. Malik waited until the door ground shut behind him before slamming his fist down on the workbench in frustration. Damn it! He had hoped to approach them alone, without Amar in tow. Now any meeting was destined to be a messy confrontation.
Sighing, Malik followed Amar out the door. He had managed to stall them for a few days, at least.
He could only hope that had been enough.
******************************************************
5:00 p.m.
Proctor residence
Dee Proctor sat glumly on the back steps in the hot afternoon sunshine, waiting for the neighborhood kids to reach a decision about what to play next. They had already played kickball, gotten all sweaty, run through sprinklers, played hopscotch, gotten all sweaty again, and run through sprinklers again. Those that didn’t mind getting sweaty—mostly the boys—were advocating something like baseball, while those who did mind getting sweaty—mostly the girls—were pushing for something quieter indoors, preferably in the basement where it was cooler.
Dee, who normally enjoyed all of these activities, really didn’t care what they picked. The only reason she was out here at all was because her mother had this nutsy idea that everything could go back to “normal”. As if. She couldn’t wait until her father got home. He might be able to understand that the definition of “normal” had been forever, irrevocably changed.
Pulling her knees up under her chin, she listened to the bickering with increasing impatience. Honestly, who cared if they played kick the can or gossip when there were innocent people out there being shot just because they existed? So much of her life now seemed pointless. She didn’t want to be sitting out here listening to this nonsense. She wanted to be back upstairs drawing more pictures, or figuring out how to prevent Brivari from doing anything bad to what was left of Urza.
Most of all she wanted to talk to Jaddo some more. Never in a million years would she have expected that Jaddo would turn out to be someone whose company she would seek. It was surprising how good it felt to talk to someone who didn’t take it personally when she got surly, who understood the reason for her anger. Granted, he wasn’t the warm and cuddly type, but that suited Dee just fine. What she was feeling now was predominantly anger; warm and cuddly was the last thing she wanted.
“What about you? What do you want to do?” came a voice, jerking her back to reality.
Ernie Hutton was standing there, staring at her curiously. They were all standing there staring at her curiously. Her drastically changed attitude had not gone unnoticed, although the boys, being boys, hadn’t said much. The girls had exchanged looks and whispers amongst themselves, but taken their lead from Rachel, who had tactfully ignored Dee’s mood. Poor Rachel. Dee longed to pull her aside and spill. But she knew what would happen if she did that: Either Rachel would think she was nuts, or she would get scared and tell her parents, and the Army would promptly descend upon them. No, she couldn’t tell anyone anything, and that fact was really beginning to sting.
“I don’t care. You pick,” Dee answered tonelessly.
“Proctor, what’s the matter with you?” Ernie demanded. “You’ve been moping around all day. What’sa matter—did you hurt your big toe, or something?”
“If you wanna hang onto your toes, you’ll shut up,” Dee said coolly.
“Just leave her alone!” Rachel said sharply. Ernie’s eyes widened, but he held up both hands. “Okay, okay. Girl stuff. We get it, don’t we guys?” He sniggered, and the rest of the boys followed suit with the exception of Anthony, the new kid from three doors down. Rachel and the rest of the girls rolled their eyes.
“Hey, I’ve got it!” Ernie said suddenly. “A new game!”
“What?” everyone chorused. The old games did get mighty dull after awhile.
“We can play…”—Ernie paused dramatically—“…Capture the Alien!”
Dee’s eyes flicked upward. “Excuse me?”
An uncomfortable silence descended on the backyard. Ernie looked from one face to another in disbelief. “Come on, haven’t you all been listening? It’s in all the papers. There are aliens in Roswell! We should do our patriotic duty and capture them!”
“The Army said it was a weather balloon,” Rachel announced flatly.
“My mom was so worried she wouldn’t even leave the house last Monday,” Betty said, looking around her nervously as though expecting a spaceship to land in the backyard any moment.
“My dad says it’s all bunk,” announced Peter. “He says it was just some troublemaker in the Army trying to stir things up.”
“Well, something must be out there,” reasoned Mary Laura, the bookworm of the group. “If it really was just a weather balloon and they could prove that, there wouldn’t still be all this fuss.”
“Mr. Brazel never took back what he said on the radio,” Betty said even more nervously. “Why would he lie? And where is he, anyway?” she added, with a glance at the Brazel’s empty house.
“Maybe it’s true!” Ernie said with mock anxiety, enjoying the look on Betty’s face. “Maybe they’re here right now, and they’re going to start kidnapping us and stealing our bodies! Or maybe they want us for food! Or maybe…”
“Or maybe they took one look at you and decided it wasn’t worth it,” snapped Dee, whose eyes had gone dangerously hard.
“Do you really think they would want to steal our bodies?” shrilled Betty, as Ernie glared at Dee.
“Maybe they want to study us,” suggested Mary Laura.
“Yeah, before they decide if we’re the main course or dessert!” said Peter, who apparently didn’t share his father’s opinions on the subject at hand.
“Why do they have to be bad? Maybe they’re friendly,” suggested Anthony. As he spoke, he pushed his glasses further up his freckled nose.
Everyone looked at Anthony, who, prior to this, hadn’t contributed to any of their conversations. Dee shot him a grateful look, and he smiled back. He had a nice face, Anthony. A good-natured, intelligent face.
“Everyone knows aliens are bad,” Ernie scoffed. “I say we get’em!”
Dee snorted softly. It seemed that for every person like her or Anthony, there were five others like Ernie. Math wasn’t her favorite subject, but she knew a bad ratio when she saw one.
Ernie was still radiating enthusiasm for his new game. “Some of us can be alien hunters, and some of us can be aliens. Who wants to be who?”
Nobody moved. Expressions ranged from Dee’s stony one, to Rachel’s exasperated one, to Betty’s fearful one. Even the boys looked iffy. Finally, Anthony, who seemed to be a bit quicker on the uptake than the average boy, said quietly, “No one seems to want to play that game.”
“Oh, all right,” said Ernie, who wasn’t the least bit quick on the uptake. “I’ll make assignments. The boys can be the alien hunters, and you girls can be the aliens. Dee’s acting so weird today that she’d make a perfect alien,” he finished, smirking. “Now…you run, and we’ll chase you.” He made the shape of a gun with his hand. “Go on—run aliens! Run!”
The girls gave in and started running. The boys charged around with their make believe guns, chasing the “aliens” hither and yon. Shouts of “Bang! You’re dead!” rang out over the yard. Dee remained on the back porch step and watched them all with hatred burning in her gut. Idiots! They had no idea what they were doing, not a single one. No wonder Urza had looked the way he had when she had suggested telling people the truth. He had known this would happen. How could she have been so stupid?
And suddenly Ernie was standing in front of her, fake gun outstretched, triumph on his face. “Run, alien!”
Dee gave him a look that could have frozen boiling water. “Get lost, Ernie.”
“If you don’t run, I’ll kill you,” Ernie warned.
Dee slowly stood up, fists twitching at her sides. “I mean it, Ernie,” she said in a dangerous voice. “Leave me out of your stupid game.”
“She doesn’t have to play if she doesn’t want to,” Anthony said, coming up behind Ernie.
But Ernie was way too caught up in his wonderful new game to listen to reason, and way too thick to notice the warning signs right in front of him. “She has to run,” he said in a singsong voice. “Because if she doesn’t, I’m gonna get her, and cut her up into little pieces!”
“Ernie, that’s disgusting!” Rachel announced. She turned to the others. “Let’s play something else. I don’t like this game.” Heads bobbed in agreement.
But Ernie didn’t budge. “Look at her,” he taunted. “Stupid alien! Aliens are supposed to be smarter than we are, aren’t they? They should be smart enough to run away, smart enough not to get caught. But this alien’s just standing there, so I guess I’ll have to shoot it.”
Both of Dee’s fists were curled into tight little balls. Ernie hadn’t noticed, but Anthony had. “I wouldn’t push her any further if I were you,” he warned. “You might not like what happens.”
“BANG!” Ernie shouted suddenly, making everyone but Dee jump. “BANG! BANG! You’re dead, Proctor! Did’ya hear me? You’re dead!”
And Dee’s fist flew up, landing squarely on Ernie Hutton’s nose.
******************************************************
Emily Proctor looked out the window over the kitchen sink as she set some dishes to soak. Another perfect summer day, complete with blazing sunshine, oppressive heat and humidity—and no aliens. She hadn’t seen either of their troublesome guests since yesterday evening, and that was quite all right with her.
David had been calm about Dee’s attitude. “She’s angry. She has a right to be,” he had said when she told him how scared she was about the changes she saw in Dee. “I spent most of the war angry, about one thing or another. She’ll have to work through that. We just have to be patient.”
The broken window had bothered him even less. “Their world fell apart, Em,” he said quietly, with a glance toward his late brother’s picture. “And now this world is falling apart on them too. If all Brivari broke was a window, then he’s doing well.”
So Emily had backed off. She had not imposed a punishment for talking back, had left Dee alone, hard as that was, and was relieved to see her looking somewhat better in the morning. She was still quiet, but the edge of her anger seemed blunted. Emily had thought it might do her some good to get away from it all for awhile, so when she had spied a group of neighborhood children, including that new boy from down the street, she had invited them over to play. Dee had trooped outside looking very uninterested, but at least she had gone without complaint or eruption. At this point, Emily figured she should be grateful for small favors.
And now it was almost dinner time, and Emily had enjoyed an afternoon full of the normal sounds of children playing in the yard. She headed for the backyard, meaning to call Dee in for dinner and send everyone else home, arriving at the door of the back porch just in time to see her daughter’s fist connect with Ernie Hutton’s nose.
“Deanna! Emily flew out the door to Ernie, who was sprawled on the ground, howling and clutching his nose. Blood was seeping through his fingers.
“Rachel, run get a washcloth from the linen closet,” Emily commanded. Rachel moved, but none too quickly, and Emily glanced up at the other faces gathered around. None of them looked shocked, or even sorry. Dee, however, was the very picture of a miniature Fury. Her fists were still clenched, and there was blood on her right hand. “Deanna, what got into you?” Emily demanded. “Apologize this instant!”
“He had it coming, Mrs. Proctor,” Mary Laura piped up from the gawping crowd.
“I don’t care what he did,” Emily said firmly. She looked back at Dee, who hadn’t budged or squeaked. “Apologize!”
“I’m really sorry, Ernie,” Dee said in a toneless voice.
Ernie scowled up at her, obviously not believing a word she said. Emily didn’t either, but it would have to do.
“I’m really sorry that I didn’t hit you harder,” Dee amended.
“DeANNA! Emily barked furiously. “That’s enough!”
Rachel returned with the washcloth. Emily mopped up Ernie’s nose as best she could. It had stopped bleeding, and appeared more bruised than anything else.
“Mrs. Proctor, he was…” began Rachel.
“I said I don’t care what he did,” Emily interrupted her. “Whatever it was, that’s no excuse to hit someone!”
“But don’t you even want to know what caused this?” came a new voice from the back.
Emily looked up to see the new boy, the only one of the group she didn’t recognize, staring at her. “He…”—the new boy indicated Ernie—“…invented a new game called ‘Capture the Alien’.”
“Capture…what?”
“ ‘Capture the Alien’,” the new boy repeated. “Dee didn’t want to play, but Ernie insisted she had to be an alien and pretended to shoot her.”
Oh my God. Emily’s head swiveled from Ernie’s sullen face, to the other children’s accusing ones, to her daughter’s.
“Is this what you call ‘normal’, Mama?” Dee whispered furiously in Emily’s ear. “Because if this is ‘normal’, you can keep it.”
Dee turned on her heel and marched back inside the house, slamming the door for effect. Ernie handed the bloody washcloth back to a still stricken Emily. “I’m going home,” he mumbled.
“You do that,” Emily said, her throat dry. “And Ernie—don’t you ever play that game with my daughter again.”
“We were just playing,” Ernie muttered.
“I said don’t play it here,” Emily said firmly.
Ernie trudged off, and Emily turned to the rest of them. “It’s time for supper. Go on, all of you,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.
They filed away, many with sympathetic looks toward the door through which Dee had recently vanished. She waited until they were gone before collapsing on the back porch step, head in her hands.
What had she been thinking? Of course the other children had heard the stories flying around. She had been so busy in her own, insane little world that she had forgotten everyone else knew something about this too….or thought they did. Listening to everyone talk about it, speculate about it, was going to be very hard. It would likely never be safe to tell anyone what really happened.
She had just sent her daughter out here to take her mind off what had happened, and instead, she had made her relive the worst experience of her life.
******************************************************
Brivari flew in the open upstairs window. He was dimly aware of some altercation taking place in the space behind the house, but he ignored it. Whatever it was, it didn’t involve him.
Jaddo was asleep, but he awakened before Brivari finished shifting. <What did you discover?>
<I found them,> Brivari said. <They’ve been put in some sort of container for the move.>
<I want a look at where they are,> Jaddo said, rising. <Hopefully we can find at least two escape routes prior to this evening.>
<Are you up to it?>
<I’m much improved. Still, it’s better I look now and then rest before tonight.>
<Good. We can perform the dispersal, then proceed to the base.>
Jaddo gave him a questioning look. <You have changed your mind about Urza’s remains?>
<I have not,> Brivari said flatly. <I will find some filthy pool of water or garbage heap in which to dispose of him, as befits one who destroyed his world.>
“You will not!” came an angry voice from the door.
Brivari and Jaddo turned to see the child standing in the doorway. She was clearly in a state, what with her tense posture and balled up fists, one of which had what appeared to have blood on it.
<What happened to you?> Jaddo asked, staring at her messy hand.
“Oh, nothing,” the child answered, glaring furiously at Brivari. “I was just dealing with an idiot, and now I come upstairs and find another one.”
Brivari cast a questioning look at Jaddo, whose face was unreadable. <What is this all about?>
“You will not just dump Urza somewhere!” the child said angrily. “I don’t care what you think he did…or didn’t do,” she added darkly.
<And how exactly do you have any idea what I think Urza did or didn’t do?> Brivari asked, with a stern look at Jaddo.
“Don’t blame him,” she ordered, taking another step into the room. “You’re the one with the big mouth. Did you forget I could hear you?”
Brivari paused, looking from one to the other with consternation. He had quite forgotten she could hear their telepathic speech. She had likely gotten an earful that morning, given how angry he had been.
But no matter. <“I don’t care what you heard…or think you heard. Urza is one of our people, and we are responsible for the disposal of his remains.>
“Then why don’t you act responsible?” she challenged. “Urza died protecting those sacs. I was there. You weren’t,” she added accusingly. “He doesn’t deserve to be dumped on a garbage heap, and I won’t let you do that!”
<And how exactly do you plan to stop me?> Brivari asked coldly.
By way of answer, the child streaked forward, grabbed the container holding Urza’s remains, and returned to the doorway, hugging it tightly to her chest. “You can’t have him,” she announced flatly.
Brivari raised his eyebrows. It was laughable, really, that this slip of a human girl would challenge his authority concerning a member of his own race. Her tantrum had been surprising, even mildly amusing, for a moment. Now it was just plain irritating.
“Put that back,” Brivari demanded, reverting to physical speech. “That doesn’t belong to you.”
“Like hell it doesn’t!” she shot back. “I was with him. I know what he went through. He was with me when he died. I have something to say about this too!”
“ ‘With you when he died’—what is she talking about?” Brivari said impatiently to Jaddo.
“Urza apparently visited her in a dream shortly after we left him,” Jaddo said. “She says he died in her dream.” Jaddo paused. “He showed her our world, Brivari.”
“ He did what?” Brivari said sharply.
“He took me to Antar,” the child broke in, obviously enjoying the look on Brivari’s face when he realized she knew the name of their home planet. “He told me he wanted to show me what he was fighting for. He said Antar was worth fighting for and worth dying for. Maybe it is, if it’s full of people like him, but if it’s full of people like you…” She let the sentence dangle, its meaning implicit.
Enough! Brivari took a deliberate step toward her. “I know you were fond of Urza,” he said, struggling to keep his voice level, “but you do not understand. My patience grows short, and my time even shorter. Now give that back.”
Tightening her grip on the container, the child backed up . “You want him?” she said fiercely. “Come and get him!”
Kathy W--Shapeshifters Series--Completed Fics
Moderators: Anniepoo98, ISLANDGIRL5, Hunter, Forum Moderators
PART SIXTY-TWO
July 10, 1947, 5:35 p.m.
Proctor residence
Dee Proctor stood in the doorway to the guest room, eyes blazing, her arms holding the container with Urza’s remains in a death grip. Brivari stood in front of her, clearly angry, clearly trying to control himself. Behind him stood Jaddo, his expression inscrutable . She knew Jaddo agreed with her, but that didn’t mean he was willing to help her on this one. He had specifically told her to stay out of it and was probably angry with her because she hadn’t.
Frankly, she didn’t care how angry either of them became. They were not taking Urza, and that was that; she had had it, had it, had it. It was bad enough to watch idiots like Ernie pretend to shoot them, but to watch them turn on each other like this was unbearable.
“Your fondness for Urza doesn’t change the fact that he was a traitor,” Brivari was saying in that same strained voice. “He failed his Ward and his King.”
“He was not a traitor!” Dee shouted. “Even Jaddo doesn’t think so! And if he ‘failed his Ward and his King’, then why aren’t you treating Valeris the same way? Isn’t the queen dead too? And what about you? Your Ward is the King, and he’s dead!”
“I have no intention of debating this with you,” Brivari said coldly. “I would prefer you return my property voluntarily, but if you insist, I will take it from you.”
Dee backed up a step. “I’ll tell,” she said flatly. You know what happened to Urza and Valeris, so you know what will happen if I turn you in.”
Brivari’s eyebrows rose. “Have you considered what will happen to you if you turn us in?”
“Can we dispense with the threats?” Jaddo said impatiently. “We are missing the point.”
“Yes, let’s skip the threats, shall we?” came a voice very nearly at Dee’s elbow.
Still hugging the container to her chest, Dee backed all the way up against the doorframe as her father stepped into view. He must have just gotten home from work; she hadn’t even heard him come upstairs. This was not good; he would probably side with Brivari and tell her all of this was none of her business. Grown-ups always stuck together. Now she had two people to fight.
“David Proctor,” Brivari said, in a tone bordering on relief. “Perhaps you can be of assistance here.”
Dee looked hopefully at her father. He had listened to her before—maybe he would listen to her now. But he gave her a grave look, the kind of look she knew always came right before he told her something he knew she wouldn’t want to hear, and her heart sank.
“Daddy, he says Urza is a traitor, and I know he’s not!” The words came out in a rush, quickly, before her father could speak. “He says he’s going to dump him somewhere, and he doesn’t deserve that, not after all he did! I saw, I was there…”
“Dee….” her father began.
“…and there’s no way he could be a traitor! This is wrong! We can’t let them…”
But her father had held up a hand for silence. “I get the idea. I heard most of it.”
“Then you heard the charges against him,” Brivari said firmly. “This does not concern you. Neither of you are one of us.”
“Agreed,” her father said, as Dee shook her head in horror and clutched the container as if her life depended on it, “but he is one of you,” he added, with a nod toward Jaddo. “What does he have to say about all this?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
David and Jaddo locked eyes, the former curious, the latter wary. This was the one Brivari had suspected of treason, and looking at him now, David could understand his concern—even when silent, this was a formidable individual, definitely not someone you would want working against you. He’d never spoken with Jaddo, but Emily had. She had found him blunt and tactless, but there had been a lot of truth in what he had said to her. He may be short on diplomacy, but if Dee had reason to think that Jaddo agreed Urza was not a traitor, then David wanted to hear why.
“Well?” David prompted. “You said they were ‘missing the point’. What point is it, exactly, that’s being missed?”
All eyes turned his way; Jaddo looked none too pleased at being put on the spot. “I have made my feelings on this subject clear. To those that matter,” he added, making it very clear he didn’t feel David was one of those who mattered. “However, I am not foolish enough to think I can change Brivari’s mind.”
“Wise advice,” Brivari said. “This is none of your business, David Proctor.”
“Perhaps,” David allowed. “But Urza argued for my daughter’s life. If he hadn’t done that, she’d probably be dead now. You may not feel you owe him anything, but I do.”
“Very touching, but off topic,” Brivari said sharply. “We have another rescue mission to embark upon, and I do not have time to indulge your need to pay a perceived debt. This is my decision to make, and I have made it.”
“So, if you were home right now, you would be responsible for the disposition of Urza’s remains?”
“He would not,” Jaddo interjected, before Brivari could say anything. “The rites due a Warder are performed by one’s Ward.”
“And that would be……the princess? Right?”
“The princess who is not here,” Brivari pointed out.
“But she will be,” David said. “According to Valeris, you came here to heal your royalty. So assuming you’re successful, this princess will return at some point in the future. Would she approve of this?”
“She would not,” Jaddo announced firmly, as Brivari whirled on him in fury. “She knows what happened. She knows perfectly well that Urza was no traitor.”
“If that’s the case,” David said slowly, “then someday you will have to face whoever Urza guarded and explain yourself. Are you prepared to do that?”
Brivari looked entirely at a loss. He glanced back and forth from David to Jaddo, glaring at both, saying nothing, clearly torn. David pressed his advantage. “Look, you have more important things to do right now, don’t you? Urza is dead. He will still be dead after you’re finished rescuing whatever it is you’re rescuing. Leave his remains here while you take care of everything else. You can always do this later, but once you do it, there’s no going back.”
“And you will return him to me when I ask?” Brivari challenged.
“Yes,” David said firmly, hushing Dee’s loud objections.
Brivari’s eyes raked the three of them; after a moment, he apparently decided not to fight this battle.
“I have work to do tonight,” he said, “and, frankly, Urza does not deserve this much of my time and energy. Keep him, if it pleases you. And should you not keep your word when I ask you to return him to me, I will still have the comfort of knowing he was denied the rites of his own people.”
“Unworthy though that may be,” Jaddo said softly.
Glaring at him, Brivari snatched the container of Valeris’s dust. Then he stalked to the window, snapped into bird shape, and flew away, leaving David wondering what had happened to the container he’d been holding. Dee, for her part, wasted no time. She raced to her own room with her burden and slammed the door, locking it behind her. David and Jaddo were left alone.
“You were foolish to oppose him when he was so angry,” Jaddo announced.
“If I heard you right, then you agree with me,” David countered.
“I do. But Urza is dead. He has no way of knowing how his remains are disposed of. This is wasted effort.”
“Funerals aren’t for the dead,” David protested. “They’re for the people left behind. If Brivari goes through with this, he can’t take it back. He’s angry now—he can’t think straight. Believe me, I know how that works. I just wanted him to have some time to calm down before he makes a decision he’ll regret.”
Jaddo gave him an appraising look, and when he spoke again, his tone had softened slightly. “Brivari knows he is wrong,” he said, moving to the window. “But he must reach a point where he is willing to admit that. Neither you nor I can force that process. You would be unwise to confront him further on this subject. Whatever debt you feel you owe Urza, Brivari is still the King’s Warder.”
Then he, too, snapped into bird shape and flew out the window, leaving David leaning against the doorframe, his eyes closed against the headache he felt coming on. He’d been home all of fifteen minutes and already he’d argued with two aliens, seen both deflate into birds and fly away, and watched his daughter lock herself into her bedroom with an urn full of alien dust.
Just another day in the Proctor household.
******************************************************
Pod Chamber
Standing in the shadow of the rock formation that housed the pod chamber, Brivari turned his back to the wind and let Valeris’s dust fly. It swirled away, glinting in the light of a huge sun in an alien sky, and a large portion of his anger seemed to go with it. As he watched the wind carry away what remained of his closest friend, it occurred to him again just how wrong this was. Valeris should not be dispersed on a foreign planet, nor by anyone but his Ward.
Jaddo stood behind him, respectfully silent. He had answered David Proctor’s question correctly: Normally one’s own Ward performed the dispersal when death occurred in their service. But as neither Ava nor her husband were exactly up to the task, Valeris would just have to settle for her husband’s Warder. Brivari had chosen this spot, just outside the chamber where the hybrids kicked and tumbled in their glowing sacs, as the closest he could reasonably come to having Ava here. He had considered saving the dust until she could perform the rite herself, but had found that he himself had a burning need to do this, to impose some kind of order on the madness that had become their lives. Besides, he was more mine than yours, he thought to himself. I knew him long before you ever caught Zan’s eye.
He glanced up at Jaddo, and was immediately sorry he had done so. As the Warder of Vilandra’s betrothed, it would have been Jaddo’s responsibility to disperse Urza’s remains, and his face bore the unmistakable stamp of one who felt a wrong had been committed. And he’s right, Brivari thought guiltily. Vilandra would have been furious at his treatment of Urza, and, frankly, Zan would have been no less displeased. Valeris would have objected even more loudly. Urza should be here with them, outside the chamber that held the recreation of the one he had guarded since birth.
“I can retrieve him, if you wish,” Jaddo said in a low voice, as though reading his mind. “I will tell them you have reconsidered.”
“The child won’t believe you,” Brivari said. And why should she? Now that his anger had eased somewhat, he felt ashamed of his behavior. And to think that two humans had seen fit to defend one of his own when he himself would not. It was humiliating.
“I believe the child’s father will keep his word,” Jaddo said. “I am confident we will be able to retrieve him later.”
“We will have to,” Brivari said heavily, climbing to his feet. “We have work to do.”
Jaddo nodded, and seconds later, two hawks were winging their way northeast.
******************************************************
Pohlman Ranch
“So—we didn’t miss anything,” Amar deadpanned. “I’d call that ‘missing something’, wouldn’t you?”
Sitting on a branch beside Amar, both in the shape of birds, Malik stared at the ship and the swarm of humans surrounding it. It was only a cargo ship, and an older one at that. But its damaged hull gleamed in Earth’s sun, an evening sun which had turned almost as red as Antar’s, and a wave of homesickness washed over him. The last time he had been on a similar vessel, he had been en route to Earth, and he had never gone back. He had questioned that decision many times since then. This was one more time to add to the list.
“It took quite a beating, didn’t it?” Malik said, staring at the damage. “They were lucky to survive.”
“And we were unlucky,” Amar said darkly. “Too bad they didn’t all die and save us the trouble of hunting them down.” He sighed, staring at the ship, missing Malik’s glare. “It appears only certain of the humans are allowed inside the ship, so I think our best bet will be to keep our current shape and try to fly in. Once inside, we’re going to have to search very thoroughly. And that’s going to be hard, given the number of apes crawling all over it. We’ll have to be very careful.”
“You think they’re still on the ship?”
“Could be. Word is Valeris was able to do some pretty tricky stuff after he was altered, and we don’t know which two survived, or even if those reports are accurate. The hybrids may be in there, or the bodies; that would help out those back home. From what I hear, not having the bodies to show the people is becoming problematic.”
You won’t find the bodies, Malik thought. The Warders would have destroyed them; that’s what he would have done, were he in their place. He seriously doubted they’d find anything; judging from when they’d received the transponder signal, several days had passed before the human military had found the ship, enough time to empty it of anything Amar would wish to find. But he kept silent; if Amar hadn’t done the math and thought there was still something to find in there, let him look. The longer he spent prowling the ship, the better.
“What are we waiting for? Let’s go,” Malik said impatiently, taking wing and heading for one of the holes in the hull. Amar chuckled and followed, no doubt misreading the source of his enthusiasm. Malik wasn’t interested in capturing anyone or anything. He just wanted to plant his feet once more on something that had come from home.
******************************************************
Proctor residence
The doorbell rang. Dee Proctor shook her soapy hands over the sink and reached for a towel. “I’ll get it,” she said, grateful for any chance at all to leave the kitchen.
This had to rank as one of the worst dinners ever. Not the food—her parents. Perhaps she should have followed her first instinct, which was to stay in her room and skip dinner entirely. But anger apparently made her hungry, and she was angry enough over Ernie’s idiocy and Brivari’s treatment of Urza to eat an entire buffet.
First, her father had started in about Ernie Hutton.
“People are going to talk, Dee, and they don’t know what happened. There’s no way they could know. You can’t run around popping people for things they don’t know.”
“I wasn’t popping him for things he didn’t know,” Dee had replied stonily. “I was popping him because he wouldn’t leave me alone. And because he’s a jerk.”
That had been the wrong thing to say. A lecture followed on how she would meet many “jerks” in her life, and the classic right hook was really not the best way to deal with them. Coulda fooled me, Dee had thought, as she slapped some mashed potatoes on her plate. In her experience, the right hook, or the left hook for that matter, was an excellent way of dealing with jerks. After that, they left you alone.
Still, the Ernie conversation was nothing compared to the look on her mother’s face when she learned that alien remains currently resided in her daughter’s bedroom.
“He’s better off in my bedroom,” Dee had said, mentally picturing the deepest, darkest recesses of her closet where she had stashed the container. “Can you believe what Brivari was going to do with him?”
“He’ll come around,” her father said quietly. “He’s angry. Just like you are.”
Dee gave her father a long look. “And what if he doesn’t ‘come around’?”
But her mother hadn’t even made it to that part of the conversation. “Remains?” she had said in a faint voice, her fork halfway up to her mouth. “What kind of…remains?”
“Dust,” Dee said casually, as though that were obvious. “Sort of like Uncle James’s ashes, but lighter weight, and lighter colored.”
Her parents exchanged silent glances.
“And how do you know what Uncle James’s ashes looked like?” her mother finally asked, in a tone that implied she might be better off not knowing.
“I just popped the top off when no one was looking,” Dee answered, sprinkling salt on her corn. “I didn’t think you could burn a body that way. I wanted to see what it looked like.”
“I don’t recall you asking permission to do that,” her mother said, while her father looked carefully at the ceiling.
Dee gave her mother a level stare. “Of course I didn’t ask. You didn’t want me to look. You probably thought it would give me nightmares or something like that. Everybody acted like it was this big secret, and then I looked and it was just ashes, just like in the fireplace.” She paused. Her mother’s eyebrows were practically grazing the light fixtures. “Someday, Mama, you’re going to figure out that it’s the stuff I don’t see that gives me nightmares.”
“I see,” her mother said evenly. “So it’s a good thing, then, that you saw several people killed a few days ago, because now you won’t have nightmares?”
And Dee had plunked her fork down on her plate and looked daggers at her mother. “May I be excused?”
Everyone had been silent during the washing up. While silence was preferable to conversation, it was still irritating to see all the supposedly covert glances her parents were sending each other’s way. Which is why she was all too glad to escape and answer the door. At this point, she’d even welcome that nosy Deputy Valenti.
But it was Anthony standing behind the front screen door. Anthony, the new kid from down the street. The one with the sandy hair and glasses that always seemed to be sliding down his nose. The one who had suggested that maybe aliens could be friendly.
“Hi,” he said casually, hands in his pockets.
Dee felt some of the anger leach out of her. “Hi,” she answered. “What are you doing here?”
“Just wanted to see if you’re okay,” he replied. “Are your folks all upset about you popping Ernie?”
No, actually they’re more upset about the alien dust in my bedroom, she thought, suppressing a giggle. And suppressing a sudden urge to say just exactly that. God, her life had become so weird.
“I got the standard lecture about using words instead of fists, and so on and so forth.”
Anthony shook his head gravely. “People like Ernie never listen to words unless they come with fists. Kids know that.”
Dee felt more of her anger slipping away. He was absolutely right, of course, and it was wonderful to talk to someone who knew that.
“So do you think there are aliens out on Pohlman Ranch?”
Dee blinked. “What?”
Anthony shrugged. “Well, you seemed to feel pretty strongly about it. I just wondered what you thought.”
“I…well, I…I guess there could be,” she said lamely, mentally kicking herself for not being prepared for this question. Of course someone was bound to ask her that eventually. “But I think it’s a pretty far out story,” she added quickly. “Don’t you?”
“Not really,” he answered seriously. “I mean, if there is a ship, and it crashed, that would be the perfect place to crash, right? I heard whatever’s out there is in an unused pasture. No one would find it for days.”
Sure they wouldn’t, Dee thought guiltily. Unless a nosy kid was looking out the window when it crashed and went looking for it the next day.
“I wonder if anyone helped them,” Anthony said casually.
“Helped who?” Dee asked, all her alarms going off.
“The aliens, of course.”
“Why would anyone do that?”
Push went the glasses. “Maybe they are friendly.” He paused. “I’d help them if they were friendly.”
“Really?”
“And if I had helped them, and they were friendly,” Anthony continued, “I’d be really mad if anyone hurt them.”
“That’s a lot of ‘ifs’,” Dee said, hoping her voice was steady. Does he know? she thought frantically. How could he?
They stared at each other through the screen door for a moment, neither of them speaking. Finally, Anthony leaned in closer to the screen and whispered, “And if they did need help, I’d hope they’d be lucky enough to find someone like you instead of someone like Ernie.”
Dee gave a little shrug, but said nothing. Her heart was pounding, and she didn’t trust her voice.
“Well, I’ll be seeing you,” Anthony smiled. “Bye.”
“Bye,” she answered. He walked away, and was almost all the way to his own house before she really started breathing again, deciding that he was just a kid with a big imagination…and a lot more common sense than most grown-ups, never mind kids. Too bad she couldn’t tell him anything. He might understand.
”I’d hope they’d be lucky enough to find someone like you instead of someone like Ernie.” Dee leaned her head against the screen door, a single tear trickling down her cheek. Oh, they were lucky all right. They were so lucky to have met her that they’d wound up exactly the same way they would have if they’d met Ernie instead.
******************************************************
Pohlman Ranch
Malik bent down to touch the patch on the floor with one long, skinny, gray finger. Blood. Or it had been, at least. It had long since turned to dust, but the pattern was unmistakable. Someone had been injured here.
He straightened up and looked around the abandoned lab with a powerful sense of longing. It had been so long, five Earth years….he had left without so much as a backward glance, and now he found himself wanting to do nothing but look back. It was strange, really, how perspective changed everything.
Moving through the lab, he opened drawers and cupboards, expecting nothing, finding nothing. This entire ship had been picked clean, whether by Warders or human soldiers, he could not tell. He had held his breath when he had opened the incubators, but all of them were fortunately empty. At this point, it would be better for the Royals to be in the hands of human soldiers than in the hands of their own people.
Malik opened the last of the drawers, and a glint caught his eye. Reaching far into the back, he withdrew an eating utensil missed by whoever was clearing this room. He held it in his hand a moment, reflecting on the fact that, most of the time, anything made by humans felt enormous because they were so much taller and bigger than Antarians. One of the few exceptions was anything made to be used with the hands, since Antarian hands were so much larger. This utensil was a perfect example. It bore the most resemblance to what humans would call a “fork”, but they would have found it ridiculously oversized. He turned it over and over in his huge hand, savoring the feel of a properly sized utensil in a properly sized hand, grateful that they had needed to assume their native forms in order to move discreetly on this vessel. It had been a long time since he had looked and felt like himself.
“Are you finished?” a voice whispered behind him. Malik turned to see Amar dart through the damaged doorway. “I…” He stopped. Scuffling sounds were heard, the sound of a human lumbering clumsily down the too-small-for-them corridor. Instantly, both moved to the walls and melted into them.
The scuffling noises passed, and Malik and Amar reappeared from the wall. They had been at this for hours, shifting to their native forms to scour the ship, and melting up against whatever was handy when humans approached. Shifting so much was exhausting, no doubt contributing to Amar’s obviously foul mood.
“There’s nothing here, is there?” Amar said sourly, listing the main reason for his foul mood. Malik shook his head.
“It’s the same everywhere I looked. Everything’s gone. The stasis units are empty, the cargo hold is empty. They—or somebody—took everything.”
“Cargo hold?” Malik echoed. “The bodies would have been in the stasis units, the hybrids in here. What were you looking for in the hold?”
Amar leaned closer. “Zan was working on a secret project,” he whispered, eyes darting sideways as though afraid someone would overhear their telepathic speech. “Some kind of technology.”
“Big deal,” Malik said in a bored tone. “Every major faction on the five planets is working on some sort of secret technology. Why should Zan be any different?”
“He signed the treaty,” Amar said reproachfully. “He was supposed to share all new technology.”
“The others signed the treaty too,” Malik pointed out, “and that didn’t stop them.”
“They think it’s a weapon,” Amar said, whispering more quietly still. “Something that could take out the four sister planets and his own enemies besides.”
“Nope,” Malik shook his head firmly. “That wasn’t Zan’s style. He wanted to unite the five planets, sometimes foolishly so.”
“Whatever,” Amar said impatiently. “They think it was sent along with Zan, to be hidden here until he could claim it.”
“Good,” Malik said shortly. “If it’s something you think Zan shouldn’t have, it’s a good bet Khivar shouldn’t have it either.”
Amar’s face flushed. “You always had a soft spot for that idiot, didn’t you?”
“I never thought he was as bad as you did,” Malik answered coolly.
“How can you say that, after what he did to us?”
“After what Riall did to us,” Malik corrected. “I was not around when Zan’s father took the throne, but I would imagine he had reasons for what he did. Zan had started to change things. He just wasn’t moving fast enough to suit you.”
“Or you either,” Amar said acidly, “or do you now claim that you were held here against your will?”
Malik shot him a withering look. “I do not. But I wanted reform, Amar. I did not expect Zan to be overthrown, never mind assassinated. He was a long way from perfect, but there is far worse out there.”
“No one expected Zan to be overthrown,” Amar answered. “The opportunity just presented itself. Prior to that, the Argilians were merely trying to even the score, and we were trying to win freedom for our race. We are much closer to that now, thanks to Khivar.”
“Are we?”
Amar’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you think we are?”
“Perhaps. We shall see,” Malik replied thoughtfully. “Covari have always been used; it is a matter of degree. We shall have to see to what degree Khivar uses us.”
Scuffling noises echoed from the hallway again. “We should leave,” Amar said abruptly. “We can debate political science later. I overheard one of the soldiers saying that material from the ship was being taken to the nearby Army base. That will be our next stop.”
A few minutes later, two birds flew from one of the holes in the hull, drawing stares from nearby soldiers. Malik cast one last glance at the ship as they sped off. It was a remnant of his world, a world that had fallen. As much as he thought some aspects of that world should have fallen, he had not expected to lose it completely.
Many times he had debated going back; now there was nothing to go back to.
July 10, 1947, 5:35 p.m.
Proctor residence
Dee Proctor stood in the doorway to the guest room, eyes blazing, her arms holding the container with Urza’s remains in a death grip. Brivari stood in front of her, clearly angry, clearly trying to control himself. Behind him stood Jaddo, his expression inscrutable . She knew Jaddo agreed with her, but that didn’t mean he was willing to help her on this one. He had specifically told her to stay out of it and was probably angry with her because she hadn’t.
Frankly, she didn’t care how angry either of them became. They were not taking Urza, and that was that; she had had it, had it, had it. It was bad enough to watch idiots like Ernie pretend to shoot them, but to watch them turn on each other like this was unbearable.
“Your fondness for Urza doesn’t change the fact that he was a traitor,” Brivari was saying in that same strained voice. “He failed his Ward and his King.”
“He was not a traitor!” Dee shouted. “Even Jaddo doesn’t think so! And if he ‘failed his Ward and his King’, then why aren’t you treating Valeris the same way? Isn’t the queen dead too? And what about you? Your Ward is the King, and he’s dead!”
“I have no intention of debating this with you,” Brivari said coldly. “I would prefer you return my property voluntarily, but if you insist, I will take it from you.”
Dee backed up a step. “I’ll tell,” she said flatly. You know what happened to Urza and Valeris, so you know what will happen if I turn you in.”
Brivari’s eyebrows rose. “Have you considered what will happen to you if you turn us in?”
“Can we dispense with the threats?” Jaddo said impatiently. “We are missing the point.”
“Yes, let’s skip the threats, shall we?” came a voice very nearly at Dee’s elbow.
Still hugging the container to her chest, Dee backed all the way up against the doorframe as her father stepped into view. He must have just gotten home from work; she hadn’t even heard him come upstairs. This was not good; he would probably side with Brivari and tell her all of this was none of her business. Grown-ups always stuck together. Now she had two people to fight.
“David Proctor,” Brivari said, in a tone bordering on relief. “Perhaps you can be of assistance here.”
Dee looked hopefully at her father. He had listened to her before—maybe he would listen to her now. But he gave her a grave look, the kind of look she knew always came right before he told her something he knew she wouldn’t want to hear, and her heart sank.
“Daddy, he says Urza is a traitor, and I know he’s not!” The words came out in a rush, quickly, before her father could speak. “He says he’s going to dump him somewhere, and he doesn’t deserve that, not after all he did! I saw, I was there…”
“Dee….” her father began.
“…and there’s no way he could be a traitor! This is wrong! We can’t let them…”
But her father had held up a hand for silence. “I get the idea. I heard most of it.”
“Then you heard the charges against him,” Brivari said firmly. “This does not concern you. Neither of you are one of us.”
“Agreed,” her father said, as Dee shook her head in horror and clutched the container as if her life depended on it, “but he is one of you,” he added, with a nod toward Jaddo. “What does he have to say about all this?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
David and Jaddo locked eyes, the former curious, the latter wary. This was the one Brivari had suspected of treason, and looking at him now, David could understand his concern—even when silent, this was a formidable individual, definitely not someone you would want working against you. He’d never spoken with Jaddo, but Emily had. She had found him blunt and tactless, but there had been a lot of truth in what he had said to her. He may be short on diplomacy, but if Dee had reason to think that Jaddo agreed Urza was not a traitor, then David wanted to hear why.
“Well?” David prompted. “You said they were ‘missing the point’. What point is it, exactly, that’s being missed?”
All eyes turned his way; Jaddo looked none too pleased at being put on the spot. “I have made my feelings on this subject clear. To those that matter,” he added, making it very clear he didn’t feel David was one of those who mattered. “However, I am not foolish enough to think I can change Brivari’s mind.”
“Wise advice,” Brivari said. “This is none of your business, David Proctor.”
“Perhaps,” David allowed. “But Urza argued for my daughter’s life. If he hadn’t done that, she’d probably be dead now. You may not feel you owe him anything, but I do.”
“Very touching, but off topic,” Brivari said sharply. “We have another rescue mission to embark upon, and I do not have time to indulge your need to pay a perceived debt. This is my decision to make, and I have made it.”
“So, if you were home right now, you would be responsible for the disposition of Urza’s remains?”
“He would not,” Jaddo interjected, before Brivari could say anything. “The rites due a Warder are performed by one’s Ward.”
“And that would be……the princess? Right?”
“The princess who is not here,” Brivari pointed out.
“But she will be,” David said. “According to Valeris, you came here to heal your royalty. So assuming you’re successful, this princess will return at some point in the future. Would she approve of this?”
“She would not,” Jaddo announced firmly, as Brivari whirled on him in fury. “She knows what happened. She knows perfectly well that Urza was no traitor.”
“If that’s the case,” David said slowly, “then someday you will have to face whoever Urza guarded and explain yourself. Are you prepared to do that?”
Brivari looked entirely at a loss. He glanced back and forth from David to Jaddo, glaring at both, saying nothing, clearly torn. David pressed his advantage. “Look, you have more important things to do right now, don’t you? Urza is dead. He will still be dead after you’re finished rescuing whatever it is you’re rescuing. Leave his remains here while you take care of everything else. You can always do this later, but once you do it, there’s no going back.”
“And you will return him to me when I ask?” Brivari challenged.
“Yes,” David said firmly, hushing Dee’s loud objections.
Brivari’s eyes raked the three of them; after a moment, he apparently decided not to fight this battle.
“I have work to do tonight,” he said, “and, frankly, Urza does not deserve this much of my time and energy. Keep him, if it pleases you. And should you not keep your word when I ask you to return him to me, I will still have the comfort of knowing he was denied the rites of his own people.”
“Unworthy though that may be,” Jaddo said softly.
Glaring at him, Brivari snatched the container of Valeris’s dust. Then he stalked to the window, snapped into bird shape, and flew away, leaving David wondering what had happened to the container he’d been holding. Dee, for her part, wasted no time. She raced to her own room with her burden and slammed the door, locking it behind her. David and Jaddo were left alone.
“You were foolish to oppose him when he was so angry,” Jaddo announced.
“If I heard you right, then you agree with me,” David countered.
“I do. But Urza is dead. He has no way of knowing how his remains are disposed of. This is wasted effort.”
“Funerals aren’t for the dead,” David protested. “They’re for the people left behind. If Brivari goes through with this, he can’t take it back. He’s angry now—he can’t think straight. Believe me, I know how that works. I just wanted him to have some time to calm down before he makes a decision he’ll regret.”
Jaddo gave him an appraising look, and when he spoke again, his tone had softened slightly. “Brivari knows he is wrong,” he said, moving to the window. “But he must reach a point where he is willing to admit that. Neither you nor I can force that process. You would be unwise to confront him further on this subject. Whatever debt you feel you owe Urza, Brivari is still the King’s Warder.”
Then he, too, snapped into bird shape and flew out the window, leaving David leaning against the doorframe, his eyes closed against the headache he felt coming on. He’d been home all of fifteen minutes and already he’d argued with two aliens, seen both deflate into birds and fly away, and watched his daughter lock herself into her bedroom with an urn full of alien dust.
Just another day in the Proctor household.
******************************************************
Pod Chamber
Standing in the shadow of the rock formation that housed the pod chamber, Brivari turned his back to the wind and let Valeris’s dust fly. It swirled away, glinting in the light of a huge sun in an alien sky, and a large portion of his anger seemed to go with it. As he watched the wind carry away what remained of his closest friend, it occurred to him again just how wrong this was. Valeris should not be dispersed on a foreign planet, nor by anyone but his Ward.
Jaddo stood behind him, respectfully silent. He had answered David Proctor’s question correctly: Normally one’s own Ward performed the dispersal when death occurred in their service. But as neither Ava nor her husband were exactly up to the task, Valeris would just have to settle for her husband’s Warder. Brivari had chosen this spot, just outside the chamber where the hybrids kicked and tumbled in their glowing sacs, as the closest he could reasonably come to having Ava here. He had considered saving the dust until she could perform the rite herself, but had found that he himself had a burning need to do this, to impose some kind of order on the madness that had become their lives. Besides, he was more mine than yours, he thought to himself. I knew him long before you ever caught Zan’s eye.
He glanced up at Jaddo, and was immediately sorry he had done so. As the Warder of Vilandra’s betrothed, it would have been Jaddo’s responsibility to disperse Urza’s remains, and his face bore the unmistakable stamp of one who felt a wrong had been committed. And he’s right, Brivari thought guiltily. Vilandra would have been furious at his treatment of Urza, and, frankly, Zan would have been no less displeased. Valeris would have objected even more loudly. Urza should be here with them, outside the chamber that held the recreation of the one he had guarded since birth.
“I can retrieve him, if you wish,” Jaddo said in a low voice, as though reading his mind. “I will tell them you have reconsidered.”
“The child won’t believe you,” Brivari said. And why should she? Now that his anger had eased somewhat, he felt ashamed of his behavior. And to think that two humans had seen fit to defend one of his own when he himself would not. It was humiliating.
“I believe the child’s father will keep his word,” Jaddo said. “I am confident we will be able to retrieve him later.”
“We will have to,” Brivari said heavily, climbing to his feet. “We have work to do.”
Jaddo nodded, and seconds later, two hawks were winging their way northeast.
******************************************************
Pohlman Ranch
“So—we didn’t miss anything,” Amar deadpanned. “I’d call that ‘missing something’, wouldn’t you?”
Sitting on a branch beside Amar, both in the shape of birds, Malik stared at the ship and the swarm of humans surrounding it. It was only a cargo ship, and an older one at that. But its damaged hull gleamed in Earth’s sun, an evening sun which had turned almost as red as Antar’s, and a wave of homesickness washed over him. The last time he had been on a similar vessel, he had been en route to Earth, and he had never gone back. He had questioned that decision many times since then. This was one more time to add to the list.
“It took quite a beating, didn’t it?” Malik said, staring at the damage. “They were lucky to survive.”
“And we were unlucky,” Amar said darkly. “Too bad they didn’t all die and save us the trouble of hunting them down.” He sighed, staring at the ship, missing Malik’s glare. “It appears only certain of the humans are allowed inside the ship, so I think our best bet will be to keep our current shape and try to fly in. Once inside, we’re going to have to search very thoroughly. And that’s going to be hard, given the number of apes crawling all over it. We’ll have to be very careful.”
“You think they’re still on the ship?”
“Could be. Word is Valeris was able to do some pretty tricky stuff after he was altered, and we don’t know which two survived, or even if those reports are accurate. The hybrids may be in there, or the bodies; that would help out those back home. From what I hear, not having the bodies to show the people is becoming problematic.”
You won’t find the bodies, Malik thought. The Warders would have destroyed them; that’s what he would have done, were he in their place. He seriously doubted they’d find anything; judging from when they’d received the transponder signal, several days had passed before the human military had found the ship, enough time to empty it of anything Amar would wish to find. But he kept silent; if Amar hadn’t done the math and thought there was still something to find in there, let him look. The longer he spent prowling the ship, the better.
“What are we waiting for? Let’s go,” Malik said impatiently, taking wing and heading for one of the holes in the hull. Amar chuckled and followed, no doubt misreading the source of his enthusiasm. Malik wasn’t interested in capturing anyone or anything. He just wanted to plant his feet once more on something that had come from home.
******************************************************
Proctor residence
The doorbell rang. Dee Proctor shook her soapy hands over the sink and reached for a towel. “I’ll get it,” she said, grateful for any chance at all to leave the kitchen.
This had to rank as one of the worst dinners ever. Not the food—her parents. Perhaps she should have followed her first instinct, which was to stay in her room and skip dinner entirely. But anger apparently made her hungry, and she was angry enough over Ernie’s idiocy and Brivari’s treatment of Urza to eat an entire buffet.
First, her father had started in about Ernie Hutton.
“People are going to talk, Dee, and they don’t know what happened. There’s no way they could know. You can’t run around popping people for things they don’t know.”
“I wasn’t popping him for things he didn’t know,” Dee had replied stonily. “I was popping him because he wouldn’t leave me alone. And because he’s a jerk.”
That had been the wrong thing to say. A lecture followed on how she would meet many “jerks” in her life, and the classic right hook was really not the best way to deal with them. Coulda fooled me, Dee had thought, as she slapped some mashed potatoes on her plate. In her experience, the right hook, or the left hook for that matter, was an excellent way of dealing with jerks. After that, they left you alone.
Still, the Ernie conversation was nothing compared to the look on her mother’s face when she learned that alien remains currently resided in her daughter’s bedroom.
“He’s better off in my bedroom,” Dee had said, mentally picturing the deepest, darkest recesses of her closet where she had stashed the container. “Can you believe what Brivari was going to do with him?”
“He’ll come around,” her father said quietly. “He’s angry. Just like you are.”
Dee gave her father a long look. “And what if he doesn’t ‘come around’?”
But her mother hadn’t even made it to that part of the conversation. “Remains?” she had said in a faint voice, her fork halfway up to her mouth. “What kind of…remains?”
“Dust,” Dee said casually, as though that were obvious. “Sort of like Uncle James’s ashes, but lighter weight, and lighter colored.”
Her parents exchanged silent glances.
“And how do you know what Uncle James’s ashes looked like?” her mother finally asked, in a tone that implied she might be better off not knowing.
“I just popped the top off when no one was looking,” Dee answered, sprinkling salt on her corn. “I didn’t think you could burn a body that way. I wanted to see what it looked like.”
“I don’t recall you asking permission to do that,” her mother said, while her father looked carefully at the ceiling.
Dee gave her mother a level stare. “Of course I didn’t ask. You didn’t want me to look. You probably thought it would give me nightmares or something like that. Everybody acted like it was this big secret, and then I looked and it was just ashes, just like in the fireplace.” She paused. Her mother’s eyebrows were practically grazing the light fixtures. “Someday, Mama, you’re going to figure out that it’s the stuff I don’t see that gives me nightmares.”
“I see,” her mother said evenly. “So it’s a good thing, then, that you saw several people killed a few days ago, because now you won’t have nightmares?”
And Dee had plunked her fork down on her plate and looked daggers at her mother. “May I be excused?”
Everyone had been silent during the washing up. While silence was preferable to conversation, it was still irritating to see all the supposedly covert glances her parents were sending each other’s way. Which is why she was all too glad to escape and answer the door. At this point, she’d even welcome that nosy Deputy Valenti.
But it was Anthony standing behind the front screen door. Anthony, the new kid from down the street. The one with the sandy hair and glasses that always seemed to be sliding down his nose. The one who had suggested that maybe aliens could be friendly.
“Hi,” he said casually, hands in his pockets.
Dee felt some of the anger leach out of her. “Hi,” she answered. “What are you doing here?”
“Just wanted to see if you’re okay,” he replied. “Are your folks all upset about you popping Ernie?”
No, actually they’re more upset about the alien dust in my bedroom, she thought, suppressing a giggle. And suppressing a sudden urge to say just exactly that. God, her life had become so weird.
“I got the standard lecture about using words instead of fists, and so on and so forth.”
Anthony shook his head gravely. “People like Ernie never listen to words unless they come with fists. Kids know that.”
Dee felt more of her anger slipping away. He was absolutely right, of course, and it was wonderful to talk to someone who knew that.
“So do you think there are aliens out on Pohlman Ranch?”
Dee blinked. “What?”
Anthony shrugged. “Well, you seemed to feel pretty strongly about it. I just wondered what you thought.”
“I…well, I…I guess there could be,” she said lamely, mentally kicking herself for not being prepared for this question. Of course someone was bound to ask her that eventually. “But I think it’s a pretty far out story,” she added quickly. “Don’t you?”
“Not really,” he answered seriously. “I mean, if there is a ship, and it crashed, that would be the perfect place to crash, right? I heard whatever’s out there is in an unused pasture. No one would find it for days.”
Sure they wouldn’t, Dee thought guiltily. Unless a nosy kid was looking out the window when it crashed and went looking for it the next day.
“I wonder if anyone helped them,” Anthony said casually.
“Helped who?” Dee asked, all her alarms going off.
“The aliens, of course.”
“Why would anyone do that?”
Push went the glasses. “Maybe they are friendly.” He paused. “I’d help them if they were friendly.”
“Really?”
“And if I had helped them, and they were friendly,” Anthony continued, “I’d be really mad if anyone hurt them.”
“That’s a lot of ‘ifs’,” Dee said, hoping her voice was steady. Does he know? she thought frantically. How could he?
They stared at each other through the screen door for a moment, neither of them speaking. Finally, Anthony leaned in closer to the screen and whispered, “And if they did need help, I’d hope they’d be lucky enough to find someone like you instead of someone like Ernie.”
Dee gave a little shrug, but said nothing. Her heart was pounding, and she didn’t trust her voice.
“Well, I’ll be seeing you,” Anthony smiled. “Bye.”
“Bye,” she answered. He walked away, and was almost all the way to his own house before she really started breathing again, deciding that he was just a kid with a big imagination…and a lot more common sense than most grown-ups, never mind kids. Too bad she couldn’t tell him anything. He might understand.
”I’d hope they’d be lucky enough to find someone like you instead of someone like Ernie.” Dee leaned her head against the screen door, a single tear trickling down her cheek. Oh, they were lucky all right. They were so lucky to have met her that they’d wound up exactly the same way they would have if they’d met Ernie instead.
******************************************************
Pohlman Ranch
Malik bent down to touch the patch on the floor with one long, skinny, gray finger. Blood. Or it had been, at least. It had long since turned to dust, but the pattern was unmistakable. Someone had been injured here.
He straightened up and looked around the abandoned lab with a powerful sense of longing. It had been so long, five Earth years….he had left without so much as a backward glance, and now he found himself wanting to do nothing but look back. It was strange, really, how perspective changed everything.
Moving through the lab, he opened drawers and cupboards, expecting nothing, finding nothing. This entire ship had been picked clean, whether by Warders or human soldiers, he could not tell. He had held his breath when he had opened the incubators, but all of them were fortunately empty. At this point, it would be better for the Royals to be in the hands of human soldiers than in the hands of their own people.
Malik opened the last of the drawers, and a glint caught his eye. Reaching far into the back, he withdrew an eating utensil missed by whoever was clearing this room. He held it in his hand a moment, reflecting on the fact that, most of the time, anything made by humans felt enormous because they were so much taller and bigger than Antarians. One of the few exceptions was anything made to be used with the hands, since Antarian hands were so much larger. This utensil was a perfect example. It bore the most resemblance to what humans would call a “fork”, but they would have found it ridiculously oversized. He turned it over and over in his huge hand, savoring the feel of a properly sized utensil in a properly sized hand, grateful that they had needed to assume their native forms in order to move discreetly on this vessel. It had been a long time since he had looked and felt like himself.
“Are you finished?” a voice whispered behind him. Malik turned to see Amar dart through the damaged doorway. “I…” He stopped. Scuffling sounds were heard, the sound of a human lumbering clumsily down the too-small-for-them corridor. Instantly, both moved to the walls and melted into them.
The scuffling noises passed, and Malik and Amar reappeared from the wall. They had been at this for hours, shifting to their native forms to scour the ship, and melting up against whatever was handy when humans approached. Shifting so much was exhausting, no doubt contributing to Amar’s obviously foul mood.
“There’s nothing here, is there?” Amar said sourly, listing the main reason for his foul mood. Malik shook his head.
“It’s the same everywhere I looked. Everything’s gone. The stasis units are empty, the cargo hold is empty. They—or somebody—took everything.”
“Cargo hold?” Malik echoed. “The bodies would have been in the stasis units, the hybrids in here. What were you looking for in the hold?”
Amar leaned closer. “Zan was working on a secret project,” he whispered, eyes darting sideways as though afraid someone would overhear their telepathic speech. “Some kind of technology.”
“Big deal,” Malik said in a bored tone. “Every major faction on the five planets is working on some sort of secret technology. Why should Zan be any different?”
“He signed the treaty,” Amar said reproachfully. “He was supposed to share all new technology.”
“The others signed the treaty too,” Malik pointed out, “and that didn’t stop them.”
“They think it’s a weapon,” Amar said, whispering more quietly still. “Something that could take out the four sister planets and his own enemies besides.”
“Nope,” Malik shook his head firmly. “That wasn’t Zan’s style. He wanted to unite the five planets, sometimes foolishly so.”
“Whatever,” Amar said impatiently. “They think it was sent along with Zan, to be hidden here until he could claim it.”
“Good,” Malik said shortly. “If it’s something you think Zan shouldn’t have, it’s a good bet Khivar shouldn’t have it either.”
Amar’s face flushed. “You always had a soft spot for that idiot, didn’t you?”
“I never thought he was as bad as you did,” Malik answered coolly.
“How can you say that, after what he did to us?”
“After what Riall did to us,” Malik corrected. “I was not around when Zan’s father took the throne, but I would imagine he had reasons for what he did. Zan had started to change things. He just wasn’t moving fast enough to suit you.”
“Or you either,” Amar said acidly, “or do you now claim that you were held here against your will?”
Malik shot him a withering look. “I do not. But I wanted reform, Amar. I did not expect Zan to be overthrown, never mind assassinated. He was a long way from perfect, but there is far worse out there.”
“No one expected Zan to be overthrown,” Amar answered. “The opportunity just presented itself. Prior to that, the Argilians were merely trying to even the score, and we were trying to win freedom for our race. We are much closer to that now, thanks to Khivar.”
“Are we?”
Amar’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t you think we are?”
“Perhaps. We shall see,” Malik replied thoughtfully. “Covari have always been used; it is a matter of degree. We shall have to see to what degree Khivar uses us.”
Scuffling noises echoed from the hallway again. “We should leave,” Amar said abruptly. “We can debate political science later. I overheard one of the soldiers saying that material from the ship was being taken to the nearby Army base. That will be our next stop.”
A few minutes later, two birds flew from one of the holes in the hull, drawing stares from nearby soldiers. Malik cast one last glance at the ship as they sped off. It was a remnant of his world, a world that had fallen. As much as he thought some aspects of that world should have fallen, he had not expected to lose it completely.
Many times he had debated going back; now there was nothing to go back to.
PART SIXTY-THREE
July 10, 1947, 2115 hours
Eagle Rock Military Base
Private Spade gripped the barrel of his specially altered rifle and checked his watch one more time. Where the hell were they? The alien sacs had been crated and ready to go for hours; they were scheduled to be flown elsewhere in only forty-five minutes. If anyone wanted to rescue them, they’d better hurry up.
Spade shifted uncomfortably on the floor of the hallway. He and another soldier, one Private Waters, were stationed outside the room where the crates were being held. Dozens of pairs of soldiers were hidden in and around the room, all with specially equipped rifles. Cavitt wanted his hostages, and he wanted them alive.
It had been Spade’s idea to use the sacs as bait, although he had been very careful not to let on that he knew what had been in that truck. He didn’t, really, having never gotten more than a quick look at the glowing, pulsing lumps. “Whatever was in the truck—that’s what they want more than anything,” he had told Cavitt earlier “That’s what they were after the night they got me.” He had offered no explanation for this sudden burst of memory, and mercifully Cavitt had asked for none. He had merely given Spade a look that made it clear this was a trade: Spade would give information, and Cavitt would not pursue the fact that he knew damned well Spade had been lying about not remembering all along. It was a fair trade, as far as Spade was concerned. He kept his neck, and the bastards responsible for killing his buddies would go down.
They’d go down if they ever got here, that is. Where were they? Cavitt had made certain the information about the sacs being removed was accessible. The altered rifles had been Cavitt’s idea, the number of soldiers, Spade’s. “They get tired,” he had told Cavitt. “Using their…their…. ‘powers’ too much makes them weak.” Spade was certain the aliens could be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. They couldn’t blast everyone at once, and it only took one rifle to hit the mark. Impatiently, he checked his watch again.
“How many times you gonna look at that watch?” Private Waters said suddenly. “Got a hot date?”
Spade shot him a testy look. “They should’ve been here by now. I know they want what’s in there. Bad.”
Waters smiled, glanced sideways, and leaned in close to Spade, who grimaced at the smell of stale cigarettes. “Maybe they found out,” he whispered, grinning.
Spade stared at him. “Maybe they found out what?”
******************************************************
Dr. Perkins wore a grim expression as he pulled on his rubber gloves. He cast a glance at Dr. Boardman across from him, similarly dressed in surgical scrubs, and wondered again if it was safe to tell him what he’d discovered about the fetus’ human bone structure. He had told no one his findings so far, although he had brought his research with him tonight just in case he decided to share it. Eventually Boardman was bound to find out, and Perkins thought it might be better to try and control the situation by telling him before he discovered it on his own.
But…first things first. Perkins eagerly reached for a scalpel and poised it over the corner of the sac with the sluggish fetuses. He’d been waiting for this all day. Cavitt had gone dotty, boxing up the sacs under the pretence of moving them elsewhere, the notion of which had sent Perkins into an apoplectic fit until Cavitt had assured him it was merely a ruse. He had released the sacs only a short time ago, insisting he and Boardman work in secrecy in the morgue wing with all major lights off, no guard outside, no indication whatsoever that the room was occupied. Perkins had no idea what Cavitt was up to and didn’t much care. He wanted at that one sac while the other one was left alone, and so far, he had managed to get what he wanted.
Hand poised over the corner of the sac, Perkins made the first cut. Or tried to, rather. Whatever the sac was made of, it was incredibly tough. It took four tries and the combined efforts of both he and Boardman to open a small hole in the corner of the sac.
“Good Lord,” Boardman muttered under his mask. “What is this stuff? Dragon hide?”
Foul looking gray liquid had begun draining, caught in a basin hastily placed there by Boardman. “I wonder why the fluid is gray?” Perkins said. “It’s still glowing inside the sac, but it’s gray outside.”
“I believe that has something to do with a chemical reaction once the fluid is exposed to the air,” said a voice behind Perkins, who whirled around in shock.
“Although I doubt you will find that information helpful at this point,” added a silky voice behind Boardman, who also whirled around.
The building containing the morgue had been so successfully emptied by Captain Cavitt that no one was on hand to hear them scream.
******************************************************
“Maybe they found out what?” Spade repeated to a grinning Private Waters.
Waters leaned in closer, the smirk on the his face reminiscent of Spade’s the day that he and his friends had spray painted Miss Strobel’s chair when she wasn’t looking, and watched with glee while she sat down and stood up again, unaware there was a large yellow blotch on her backside. “I was listening,” Waters confided. “Whatever’s supposed to be in there isn’t in there anymore.”
“What are you talking about?” Spade asked sharply.
“They moved it,” Waters said, pitching his voice lower still. “Coupla hours ago. To the morgue, over in Building 7354. Whatever them aliens are coming for ain’t there. They’ll just think it’s in there. It’s a decoy—get it?”
“Oh, I get it,” Spade said, feeling the blood rush to his face. “Just how stupid can one Captain be?”
Waters looked around nervously at this announcement. “What’s wrong, man? Don’t you think it’s brilliant, messing with their heads like that? Assuming they have heads,” he added with a grin.
Spade abruptly rose to his feet and threw his gun on the floor. Waters’s jaw dropped, and other soldiers nearby peered out of their hiding places in surprise. “What an idiot!” he raged. “Does he ever stop to think before he does anything? Is a serious lack of brain cells a requirement for promotion?”
Waters was goggling now. Spade grabbed him by the collar and pulled him so close their noses were touching. “You. Listen. You are to go to Cavitt and tell him he’s a flaming moron,” Spade commanded. “The aliens aren’t here because they’re wherever he sent what was in those crates. Tell him to send everyone over there now!”
“But…” Waters seemed to have difficulty swallowing the prospect of delivering such a message to Cavitt. “…but how could they know? They was real careful about how they did it, and…”
“Doesn’t anyone listen to me?” shouted Spade, making Waters jump. “These people can look like anyone, sound like anyone. Shit, for all you know, I’m an alien!”
This idea clearly didn’t sit well with Private Waters, who shrank back into his corner with a look of utter terror. Spade cast a furious look around at the various wide-eyed faces poking out of various places before reaching a decision.
“Never mind. I’ll do it myself.” He grabbed his rifle and sprinted for the exit.
Waters watched him go, his mouth hanging open. A full five minutes would pass before he worked up the courage to approach Captain Cavitt.
******************************************************
“I have repaired the cut, but it’s still oozing,” Jaddo announced, holding his glowing palm over the incision made only moments before. “Has the other set been damaged?”
“No,” Brivari replied with relief. They had made it just in time. Their best set was still intact, and apparently unharmed. “We might lose the one you’re repairing, but this one appears to be fine.”
“Good,” Jaddo said grimly, straightening up. “We could use a bit of good news right now.” He looked around, eyeing the walls. “I’ll search for a suitable escape route. It will be too risky to carry these through the halls.”
Nodding, Brivari stepped carefully over the two bodies on the floor and rummaged through the piles of instruments nearby, searching for whatever information the humans had been able to glean from the sacs. Then he noticed a conveyance of some sort on a counter. It was locked; a glowing hand made short work of the lock. “Look at this,” he called to Jaddo, rifling through the papers and images inside. “They’ve discovered the hybrids have human bodies.”
“Good for them,” Jaddo said sarcastically. “I’m impressed.”
Brivari slapped the handful of papers he was holding down on a nearby table. “No doubt they think we’re planning an invasion, or some other such rot.”
“No doubt,” Jaddo agreed from the corner of the room he was investigating.
“I hate to disabuse them of that notion, but I’m afraid I must,” Brivari said with mock contrition. He held up his palm toward the assembled mass of papers and x-ray films, reducing all of it to ashes in seconds.
“Come here,” Jaddo called. Brivari joined him in the corner. “If we remove these blocks, I believe we will find ourselves in a narrow passageway between two buildings, the end of which is relatively close to the metal enclosure they have around this compound.”
Both of them set to work, using their energy to force the blocks from the wall, creating a narrow gap.
“That’s wide enough for our native form,” Brivari noted, pulling back his hand. “The humans will not be able to fit through. That will slow them down.”
“Agreed,” Jaddo said. “And we should keep our native form even after we leave. Our size and color will serve as better camouflage.”
Brivari nodded. “Let’s go.”
Both shifted to their native forms, pausing afterward to catch their breaths. The hybrids had not been where Brivari had found them earlier, and they had been led on a merry chase, having to shift dozens of times in their quest to locate them. The exhaustion they had been fighting ever since the crash was evident in their labored breathing.
“Are you all right?” Brivari asked Jaddo.
“Yes,” Jaddo replied, panting. “But I sincerely hope we won’t have to do this again.”
“We’re almost out,” Brivari said soothingly. “Let’s get the sacs.”
Footsteps abruptly sounded outside. Someone inserted a key into the locked door.
“Over here!” Jaddo called urgently, pointing to a sort of curtain hanging on a frame. The two Warders silently slipped behind it as the door opened, and someone stepped inside.
******************************************************
Spade’s running feet pounded, sounding abnormally loud in the empty hallway. He’d been in this building just this morning to view West’s and Belmont’s bodies; the memory churned his stomach and made him run even faster. Where was everybody? Granted it was late, but somebody should be down here. Wonderful, he thought grimly, as he continued to sprint. Why didn’t you just gift wrap’em, Cavitt? Here he’d gone and put his ass on the line by admitting he knew more than he’d been telling, and Cavitt had ignored him, setting up this harebrained scheme that the aliens had probably figured out in five minutes flat. Granted, finding where the sacs actually were would take time. But according to Waters, a couple of hours had passed since he’d heard they’d been moved. A couple of hours was a long time.
Spade whizzed around a corner, clutching his altered rifle and praying he’d make it there in time. His worst fear, other than that they’d escape, was that someone else would find the aliens and react exactly like West had. Spade didn’t want the aliens dead—yet. He wanted them to live just long enough so he could hold a gun to their heads and demand an explanation as to why they had hunted down his buddies and killed them for no good reason.
He skipped down a flight of steps two at a time, rounded another corner, and came to a screeching halt.
Rows of doors lined the corridor facing him, which seemed to go on forever. “To the morgue,” Private Waters had said. But the morgue wasn’t just one room; it occupied an entire section of this building, with several operating rooms and several different storage facilities like the one he’d visited this morning to view the bodies. Cavitt could have hidden the sacs anywhere. He stood motionless, silent, straining to catch the slightest sound. Where were they?
Hearing nothing, Spade tried the nearest door. Locked. He started down the hallway, trying one door after another.
******************************************************
Brivari and Jaddo watched from their hiding space behind the curtain as a single, male human dressed in uniform entered the room. The human gaped at the sacs for several seconds before raising a large, unfamiliar device to his face. Pushing a button on the device, a light flared.
<What is that?> Jaddo asked.
<A primitive recording device,> Brivari answered.
The human had noticed the bodies on the floor. After gathering his wits, he pointed his huge recording device at them, and the light flashed several more times.
<Enough of this,> Jaddo said sharply. <We can’t wait any longer. We should neutralize him now.>
<I’d rather not,> Brivari said worriedly. <We are both exhausted, and we still have to get off the base. He appears to be unarmed—perhaps we can frighten him away? We should still have a few minutes before he summons aid.>
Jaddo threw a glance at the narrow gap they had made in the wall and the glowing sacs resting nearby. <Whatever we do, we need to do it quickly,> he urged.
Brivari considered a moment. <We will prepare to strike,> he decided, <but only if necessary. If he attacks, we will act together. That will weaken each of us less than if we act alone.>
Jaddo looked a bit irritated at this conservative approach, but he nodded and immediately began gathering energy; Brivari did the same, producing a bright, white glow all around him. If the human moved an inch toward them, they would release that energy, killing him instantly. They began to move out from behind the curtain.
The human paused in his frantic snapping of the recording device. Seeing them reflected in a nearby mirror, he slowly turned around.
Brivari could feel Jaddo readying a strike. <Wait!>
<What for?> Jaddo asked irritably.
<Wait and see what he does,> Brivari commanded. <We are nearly spent, Jaddo. We can’t afford to use power unnecessarily.>
But the human made no move toward them, merely stood there, staring. His gaze shifted to the sacs which lay between them, then back to the two glowing figures standing motionless across the room.
Hoping to save his strength for their escape, Brivari decided to try something. He spoke in his native tongue, well aware that it’s strangeness combined with the inevitable distortion that would come with hearing it through his energy field would produce a sound incomprehensible to human ears.
<What are you doing?> Jaddo hissed.
<Hoping he’ll get the message,> Brivari answered.
For a moment, it appeared he would not. The human continued to look back and forth between the Warders and the sacs until movement in one of the sacs caught his eye. A tiny figure had drifted close to the outside of one of the sacs, visible through the glowing fluid within. The human’s eyes widened; even from a distance, that shape was unmistakable. He stared for another long moment, and when he raised his eyes to the Warders again, he had clearly reached a decision.
“Save them,” he said, and moved out the door, closing it behind him.
<Amazing,> Jaddo said softly. <He caught on quickly, for a human.>
<And we are no more depleted than we were,> Brivari said, beginning to move one of the sacs.
<Not so fast,> Jaddo growled, causing Brivari to turn around. <What do you suggest we do with this one?>
For running feet had sounded outside the door, and as Brivari was turning, another human entered the room. He gaped at them for a fraction of a second, then pulled a weapon from his belt.
******************************************************
Private Spade ran from door to door, increasingly frantic. He had seen no one else—apparently Cavitt hadn’t believed Waters, or maybe Waters was too yellow to approach him. He was certain the aliens had figured out the switch; if they didn’t catch them soon, they would lose their chance. After they had those sacs, he doubted they’d be back.
A door opened at the far end of the hall. Spade turned in surprise to see an agitated Captain heading for the exit. The Captain paused and looked back the way he had come as three soldiers came running around the far corner.
“Hey!” the Captain called, pulling the fire alarm and sprinting away toward the main door. Two of the pursuing soldiers followed the fleeing Captain, while the other entered the room the Captain had just left.
Heart pounding, Spade ran down the corridor. He was going to be too late; he could feel it. Sure enough, just as he reached the door a brilliant light flared, blinding him even through the partially opened doorway. Clutching his rifle and shielding his eyes, he stumbled inside.
Even though Spade knew what was happening better than anyone else on the base, he was not prepared for the carnage in that room. The soldier who had entered moments before was dead, his body charred, smoke wafting in little tendrils from the burned flesh. Nearby lay two men dressed as doctors, silver handprints burned into their chests. The aliens had been busy tonight.
It took almost a full minute before Spade’s eyes recovered from the flare. Holding his hand over his mouth, gagging against the smell of burned flesh, he peered around the room and saw two short, spindly gray figures disappearing with the sacs through what appeared to be a hole in the wall.
He raised his rifle, took careful aim, and fired.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jaddo jumped as he felt a stinging sensation. What was that? Looking down, he saw a curious, dart-like object protruding from his shoulder. He reached around and removed it, holding it up for inspection. It was a narrow tube, half filled with some kind of liquid.
Brivari, who had thrown the all-too-familiar human who had fired it hard against the far wall, looked at it grimly. <Drugs,> he said flatly. <Go. Quickly. Before it takes affect.>
<I didn’t get it all,> Jaddo said, nevertheless moving one of the sacs through the opening in the wall, Brivari following with the other, both breathing hard. Brivari had been right—that last burst of energy had dangerously weakened them, and they still had a ways to go.
A soft swishing sound caught Jaddo’s ear, then another. He looked back to see Brivari pulling not one, but two of the strange darts out of his side. <Never mind me!> Brivari snapped, pushing him forward. <Go!>
Jaddo nodded and continued through the opening, his heart sinking. He had managed to remove the dart before it could empty, but Brivari had been hit with two of them.
Once outside they moved silently down the passageway, each with a sac hovering in front. Loud bells were clanging wildly; human feet could be heard pounding inside and out, rushing this way and that in obvious confusion. They saw no one, heard no sounds of pursuit from behind as they moved closer to the metal enclosure surrounding the base.
Two thirds of the way down the passage, Jaddo heard Brivari stumble. Looking back, he saw him falter and fall to his knees. Jaddo backtracked a bit, setting the sac he was carrying down gently beside the one that Brivari had lost control of. <Come,> he said gruffly. <I will carry all of you.>
<You can’t,> Brivari answered, breathing heavily, fighting whatever was in his system. <You’ll never make it.>
<I can try,> Jaddo insisted.
<No,> Brivari said firmly, despite the fact his breath was coming in ragged gasps. <Your duty is clear. Our Wards take precedence over either one of us.>
<I’m surprised you trust me with our Wards, Brivari.>
Brivari raised his huge head to look at his fellow Warder. <I’m surprised you are concerned enough about me to even suggest compromising our Ward’s safety. Are you going soft, Jaddo?>
For a moment, it looked like Jaddo was going to give one of his typical irritable replies. But he looked away for a moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was hushed.
<I do not wish to be alone in this alien world.>
<Nor do I,> Brivari responded sincerely. <But if that is what happens, so be it. Someone recently told me that we should expend our energy dealing with what has happened, rather than waste it lamenting what we would have preferred.>
Their eyes locked. <They will find you,> Jaddo said.
<They haven’t….found me yet,> Brivari answered shortly. It was getting harder for him to talk. <Go. Now. While there is….still time.>
Jaddo didn’t answer. He glanced around the passageway, which was littered with what looked like garbage containers, boxes, and all manner of other things. Helping Brivari behind a pile of boxes, he carved a small hole for him with a glowing hand and helped him curl inside. <This will make you harder to find. And I will come back for you.>
<No,> Brivari said as firmly as he could muster. <Too… dangerous. Must have at least…one of us…left. Do not…attempt a rescue.> He paused for breath. <You…go. Now. Before…however much…of the drug you got…takes effect.>
Jaddo hesitated for just a moment. Then, with one last look at Brivari, he levitated the two sacs and sped down the passageway.
July 10, 1947, 2115 hours
Eagle Rock Military Base
Private Spade gripped the barrel of his specially altered rifle and checked his watch one more time. Where the hell were they? The alien sacs had been crated and ready to go for hours; they were scheduled to be flown elsewhere in only forty-five minutes. If anyone wanted to rescue them, they’d better hurry up.
Spade shifted uncomfortably on the floor of the hallway. He and another soldier, one Private Waters, were stationed outside the room where the crates were being held. Dozens of pairs of soldiers were hidden in and around the room, all with specially equipped rifles. Cavitt wanted his hostages, and he wanted them alive.
It had been Spade’s idea to use the sacs as bait, although he had been very careful not to let on that he knew what had been in that truck. He didn’t, really, having never gotten more than a quick look at the glowing, pulsing lumps. “Whatever was in the truck—that’s what they want more than anything,” he had told Cavitt earlier “That’s what they were after the night they got me.” He had offered no explanation for this sudden burst of memory, and mercifully Cavitt had asked for none. He had merely given Spade a look that made it clear this was a trade: Spade would give information, and Cavitt would not pursue the fact that he knew damned well Spade had been lying about not remembering all along. It was a fair trade, as far as Spade was concerned. He kept his neck, and the bastards responsible for killing his buddies would go down.
They’d go down if they ever got here, that is. Where were they? Cavitt had made certain the information about the sacs being removed was accessible. The altered rifles had been Cavitt’s idea, the number of soldiers, Spade’s. “They get tired,” he had told Cavitt. “Using their…their…. ‘powers’ too much makes them weak.” Spade was certain the aliens could be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. They couldn’t blast everyone at once, and it only took one rifle to hit the mark. Impatiently, he checked his watch again.
“How many times you gonna look at that watch?” Private Waters said suddenly. “Got a hot date?”
Spade shot him a testy look. “They should’ve been here by now. I know they want what’s in there. Bad.”
Waters smiled, glanced sideways, and leaned in close to Spade, who grimaced at the smell of stale cigarettes. “Maybe they found out,” he whispered, grinning.
Spade stared at him. “Maybe they found out what?”
******************************************************
Dr. Perkins wore a grim expression as he pulled on his rubber gloves. He cast a glance at Dr. Boardman across from him, similarly dressed in surgical scrubs, and wondered again if it was safe to tell him what he’d discovered about the fetus’ human bone structure. He had told no one his findings so far, although he had brought his research with him tonight just in case he decided to share it. Eventually Boardman was bound to find out, and Perkins thought it might be better to try and control the situation by telling him before he discovered it on his own.
But…first things first. Perkins eagerly reached for a scalpel and poised it over the corner of the sac with the sluggish fetuses. He’d been waiting for this all day. Cavitt had gone dotty, boxing up the sacs under the pretence of moving them elsewhere, the notion of which had sent Perkins into an apoplectic fit until Cavitt had assured him it was merely a ruse. He had released the sacs only a short time ago, insisting he and Boardman work in secrecy in the morgue wing with all major lights off, no guard outside, no indication whatsoever that the room was occupied. Perkins had no idea what Cavitt was up to and didn’t much care. He wanted at that one sac while the other one was left alone, and so far, he had managed to get what he wanted.
Hand poised over the corner of the sac, Perkins made the first cut. Or tried to, rather. Whatever the sac was made of, it was incredibly tough. It took four tries and the combined efforts of both he and Boardman to open a small hole in the corner of the sac.
“Good Lord,” Boardman muttered under his mask. “What is this stuff? Dragon hide?”
Foul looking gray liquid had begun draining, caught in a basin hastily placed there by Boardman. “I wonder why the fluid is gray?” Perkins said. “It’s still glowing inside the sac, but it’s gray outside.”
“I believe that has something to do with a chemical reaction once the fluid is exposed to the air,” said a voice behind Perkins, who whirled around in shock.
“Although I doubt you will find that information helpful at this point,” added a silky voice behind Boardman, who also whirled around.
The building containing the morgue had been so successfully emptied by Captain Cavitt that no one was on hand to hear them scream.
******************************************************
“Maybe they found out what?” Spade repeated to a grinning Private Waters.
Waters leaned in closer, the smirk on the his face reminiscent of Spade’s the day that he and his friends had spray painted Miss Strobel’s chair when she wasn’t looking, and watched with glee while she sat down and stood up again, unaware there was a large yellow blotch on her backside. “I was listening,” Waters confided. “Whatever’s supposed to be in there isn’t in there anymore.”
“What are you talking about?” Spade asked sharply.
“They moved it,” Waters said, pitching his voice lower still. “Coupla hours ago. To the morgue, over in Building 7354. Whatever them aliens are coming for ain’t there. They’ll just think it’s in there. It’s a decoy—get it?”
“Oh, I get it,” Spade said, feeling the blood rush to his face. “Just how stupid can one Captain be?”
Waters looked around nervously at this announcement. “What’s wrong, man? Don’t you think it’s brilliant, messing with their heads like that? Assuming they have heads,” he added with a grin.
Spade abruptly rose to his feet and threw his gun on the floor. Waters’s jaw dropped, and other soldiers nearby peered out of their hiding places in surprise. “What an idiot!” he raged. “Does he ever stop to think before he does anything? Is a serious lack of brain cells a requirement for promotion?”
Waters was goggling now. Spade grabbed him by the collar and pulled him so close their noses were touching. “You. Listen. You are to go to Cavitt and tell him he’s a flaming moron,” Spade commanded. “The aliens aren’t here because they’re wherever he sent what was in those crates. Tell him to send everyone over there now!”
“But…” Waters seemed to have difficulty swallowing the prospect of delivering such a message to Cavitt. “…but how could they know? They was real careful about how they did it, and…”
“Doesn’t anyone listen to me?” shouted Spade, making Waters jump. “These people can look like anyone, sound like anyone. Shit, for all you know, I’m an alien!”
This idea clearly didn’t sit well with Private Waters, who shrank back into his corner with a look of utter terror. Spade cast a furious look around at the various wide-eyed faces poking out of various places before reaching a decision.
“Never mind. I’ll do it myself.” He grabbed his rifle and sprinted for the exit.
Waters watched him go, his mouth hanging open. A full five minutes would pass before he worked up the courage to approach Captain Cavitt.
******************************************************
“I have repaired the cut, but it’s still oozing,” Jaddo announced, holding his glowing palm over the incision made only moments before. “Has the other set been damaged?”
“No,” Brivari replied with relief. They had made it just in time. Their best set was still intact, and apparently unharmed. “We might lose the one you’re repairing, but this one appears to be fine.”
“Good,” Jaddo said grimly, straightening up. “We could use a bit of good news right now.” He looked around, eyeing the walls. “I’ll search for a suitable escape route. It will be too risky to carry these through the halls.”
Nodding, Brivari stepped carefully over the two bodies on the floor and rummaged through the piles of instruments nearby, searching for whatever information the humans had been able to glean from the sacs. Then he noticed a conveyance of some sort on a counter. It was locked; a glowing hand made short work of the lock. “Look at this,” he called to Jaddo, rifling through the papers and images inside. “They’ve discovered the hybrids have human bodies.”
“Good for them,” Jaddo said sarcastically. “I’m impressed.”
Brivari slapped the handful of papers he was holding down on a nearby table. “No doubt they think we’re planning an invasion, or some other such rot.”
“No doubt,” Jaddo agreed from the corner of the room he was investigating.
“I hate to disabuse them of that notion, but I’m afraid I must,” Brivari said with mock contrition. He held up his palm toward the assembled mass of papers and x-ray films, reducing all of it to ashes in seconds.
“Come here,” Jaddo called. Brivari joined him in the corner. “If we remove these blocks, I believe we will find ourselves in a narrow passageway between two buildings, the end of which is relatively close to the metal enclosure they have around this compound.”
Both of them set to work, using their energy to force the blocks from the wall, creating a narrow gap.
“That’s wide enough for our native form,” Brivari noted, pulling back his hand. “The humans will not be able to fit through. That will slow them down.”
“Agreed,” Jaddo said. “And we should keep our native form even after we leave. Our size and color will serve as better camouflage.”
Brivari nodded. “Let’s go.”
Both shifted to their native forms, pausing afterward to catch their breaths. The hybrids had not been where Brivari had found them earlier, and they had been led on a merry chase, having to shift dozens of times in their quest to locate them. The exhaustion they had been fighting ever since the crash was evident in their labored breathing.
“Are you all right?” Brivari asked Jaddo.
“Yes,” Jaddo replied, panting. “But I sincerely hope we won’t have to do this again.”
“We’re almost out,” Brivari said soothingly. “Let’s get the sacs.”
Footsteps abruptly sounded outside. Someone inserted a key into the locked door.
“Over here!” Jaddo called urgently, pointing to a sort of curtain hanging on a frame. The two Warders silently slipped behind it as the door opened, and someone stepped inside.
******************************************************
Spade’s running feet pounded, sounding abnormally loud in the empty hallway. He’d been in this building just this morning to view West’s and Belmont’s bodies; the memory churned his stomach and made him run even faster. Where was everybody? Granted it was late, but somebody should be down here. Wonderful, he thought grimly, as he continued to sprint. Why didn’t you just gift wrap’em, Cavitt? Here he’d gone and put his ass on the line by admitting he knew more than he’d been telling, and Cavitt had ignored him, setting up this harebrained scheme that the aliens had probably figured out in five minutes flat. Granted, finding where the sacs actually were would take time. But according to Waters, a couple of hours had passed since he’d heard they’d been moved. A couple of hours was a long time.
Spade whizzed around a corner, clutching his altered rifle and praying he’d make it there in time. His worst fear, other than that they’d escape, was that someone else would find the aliens and react exactly like West had. Spade didn’t want the aliens dead—yet. He wanted them to live just long enough so he could hold a gun to their heads and demand an explanation as to why they had hunted down his buddies and killed them for no good reason.
He skipped down a flight of steps two at a time, rounded another corner, and came to a screeching halt.
Rows of doors lined the corridor facing him, which seemed to go on forever. “To the morgue,” Private Waters had said. But the morgue wasn’t just one room; it occupied an entire section of this building, with several operating rooms and several different storage facilities like the one he’d visited this morning to view the bodies. Cavitt could have hidden the sacs anywhere. He stood motionless, silent, straining to catch the slightest sound. Where were they?
Hearing nothing, Spade tried the nearest door. Locked. He started down the hallway, trying one door after another.
******************************************************
Brivari and Jaddo watched from their hiding space behind the curtain as a single, male human dressed in uniform entered the room. The human gaped at the sacs for several seconds before raising a large, unfamiliar device to his face. Pushing a button on the device, a light flared.
<What is that?> Jaddo asked.
<A primitive recording device,> Brivari answered.
The human had noticed the bodies on the floor. After gathering his wits, he pointed his huge recording device at them, and the light flashed several more times.
<Enough of this,> Jaddo said sharply. <We can’t wait any longer. We should neutralize him now.>
<I’d rather not,> Brivari said worriedly. <We are both exhausted, and we still have to get off the base. He appears to be unarmed—perhaps we can frighten him away? We should still have a few minutes before he summons aid.>
Jaddo threw a glance at the narrow gap they had made in the wall and the glowing sacs resting nearby. <Whatever we do, we need to do it quickly,> he urged.
Brivari considered a moment. <We will prepare to strike,> he decided, <but only if necessary. If he attacks, we will act together. That will weaken each of us less than if we act alone.>
Jaddo looked a bit irritated at this conservative approach, but he nodded and immediately began gathering energy; Brivari did the same, producing a bright, white glow all around him. If the human moved an inch toward them, they would release that energy, killing him instantly. They began to move out from behind the curtain.
The human paused in his frantic snapping of the recording device. Seeing them reflected in a nearby mirror, he slowly turned around.
Brivari could feel Jaddo readying a strike. <Wait!>
<What for?> Jaddo asked irritably.
<Wait and see what he does,> Brivari commanded. <We are nearly spent, Jaddo. We can’t afford to use power unnecessarily.>
But the human made no move toward them, merely stood there, staring. His gaze shifted to the sacs which lay between them, then back to the two glowing figures standing motionless across the room.
Hoping to save his strength for their escape, Brivari decided to try something. He spoke in his native tongue, well aware that it’s strangeness combined with the inevitable distortion that would come with hearing it through his energy field would produce a sound incomprehensible to human ears.
<What are you doing?> Jaddo hissed.
<Hoping he’ll get the message,> Brivari answered.
For a moment, it appeared he would not. The human continued to look back and forth between the Warders and the sacs until movement in one of the sacs caught his eye. A tiny figure had drifted close to the outside of one of the sacs, visible through the glowing fluid within. The human’s eyes widened; even from a distance, that shape was unmistakable. He stared for another long moment, and when he raised his eyes to the Warders again, he had clearly reached a decision.
“Save them,” he said, and moved out the door, closing it behind him.
<Amazing,> Jaddo said softly. <He caught on quickly, for a human.>
<And we are no more depleted than we were,> Brivari said, beginning to move one of the sacs.
<Not so fast,> Jaddo growled, causing Brivari to turn around. <What do you suggest we do with this one?>
For running feet had sounded outside the door, and as Brivari was turning, another human entered the room. He gaped at them for a fraction of a second, then pulled a weapon from his belt.
******************************************************
Private Spade ran from door to door, increasingly frantic. He had seen no one else—apparently Cavitt hadn’t believed Waters, or maybe Waters was too yellow to approach him. He was certain the aliens had figured out the switch; if they didn’t catch them soon, they would lose their chance. After they had those sacs, he doubted they’d be back.
A door opened at the far end of the hall. Spade turned in surprise to see an agitated Captain heading for the exit. The Captain paused and looked back the way he had come as three soldiers came running around the far corner.
“Hey!” the Captain called, pulling the fire alarm and sprinting away toward the main door. Two of the pursuing soldiers followed the fleeing Captain, while the other entered the room the Captain had just left.
Heart pounding, Spade ran down the corridor. He was going to be too late; he could feel it. Sure enough, just as he reached the door a brilliant light flared, blinding him even through the partially opened doorway. Clutching his rifle and shielding his eyes, he stumbled inside.
Even though Spade knew what was happening better than anyone else on the base, he was not prepared for the carnage in that room. The soldier who had entered moments before was dead, his body charred, smoke wafting in little tendrils from the burned flesh. Nearby lay two men dressed as doctors, silver handprints burned into their chests. The aliens had been busy tonight.
It took almost a full minute before Spade’s eyes recovered from the flare. Holding his hand over his mouth, gagging against the smell of burned flesh, he peered around the room and saw two short, spindly gray figures disappearing with the sacs through what appeared to be a hole in the wall.
He raised his rifle, took careful aim, and fired.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jaddo jumped as he felt a stinging sensation. What was that? Looking down, he saw a curious, dart-like object protruding from his shoulder. He reached around and removed it, holding it up for inspection. It was a narrow tube, half filled with some kind of liquid.
Brivari, who had thrown the all-too-familiar human who had fired it hard against the far wall, looked at it grimly. <Drugs,> he said flatly. <Go. Quickly. Before it takes affect.>
<I didn’t get it all,> Jaddo said, nevertheless moving one of the sacs through the opening in the wall, Brivari following with the other, both breathing hard. Brivari had been right—that last burst of energy had dangerously weakened them, and they still had a ways to go.
A soft swishing sound caught Jaddo’s ear, then another. He looked back to see Brivari pulling not one, but two of the strange darts out of his side. <Never mind me!> Brivari snapped, pushing him forward. <Go!>
Jaddo nodded and continued through the opening, his heart sinking. He had managed to remove the dart before it could empty, but Brivari had been hit with two of them.
Once outside they moved silently down the passageway, each with a sac hovering in front. Loud bells were clanging wildly; human feet could be heard pounding inside and out, rushing this way and that in obvious confusion. They saw no one, heard no sounds of pursuit from behind as they moved closer to the metal enclosure surrounding the base.
Two thirds of the way down the passage, Jaddo heard Brivari stumble. Looking back, he saw him falter and fall to his knees. Jaddo backtracked a bit, setting the sac he was carrying down gently beside the one that Brivari had lost control of. <Come,> he said gruffly. <I will carry all of you.>
<You can’t,> Brivari answered, breathing heavily, fighting whatever was in his system. <You’ll never make it.>
<I can try,> Jaddo insisted.
<No,> Brivari said firmly, despite the fact his breath was coming in ragged gasps. <Your duty is clear. Our Wards take precedence over either one of us.>
<I’m surprised you trust me with our Wards, Brivari.>
Brivari raised his huge head to look at his fellow Warder. <I’m surprised you are concerned enough about me to even suggest compromising our Ward’s safety. Are you going soft, Jaddo?>
For a moment, it looked like Jaddo was going to give one of his typical irritable replies. But he looked away for a moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was hushed.
<I do not wish to be alone in this alien world.>
<Nor do I,> Brivari responded sincerely. <But if that is what happens, so be it. Someone recently told me that we should expend our energy dealing with what has happened, rather than waste it lamenting what we would have preferred.>
Their eyes locked. <They will find you,> Jaddo said.
<They haven’t….found me yet,> Brivari answered shortly. It was getting harder for him to talk. <Go. Now. While there is….still time.>
Jaddo didn’t answer. He glanced around the passageway, which was littered with what looked like garbage containers, boxes, and all manner of other things. Helping Brivari behind a pile of boxes, he carved a small hole for him with a glowing hand and helped him curl inside. <This will make you harder to find. And I will come back for you.>
<No,> Brivari said as firmly as he could muster. <Too… dangerous. Must have at least…one of us…left. Do not…attempt a rescue.> He paused for breath. <You…go. Now. Before…however much…of the drug you got…takes effect.>
Jaddo hesitated for just a moment. Then, with one last look at Brivari, he levitated the two sacs and sped down the passageway.
PART SIXTY-FOUR
July 10, 1947, 2205 hours
Eagle Rock Military Base
Private Spade pushed himself to his feet. His head was spinning, and he paused for a moment to get his bearings, leaning against a nearby table. He still had his rifle clutched in a death grip. Setting it on the table, he examined it carefully. All three cartridges were gone.
Something stank, and he looked around for the source, wrinkling his nose. He spied a metal basin on one of the tables that had held the alien sacs. It was full of a thick, grayish-black substance that reeked. One of those dead doctors must have been cutting the sacs open.
Heading over to the opening in the wall, he peered through the narrow crack, too narrow for a person to fit through. He could hear people running and shouting, both in the hallway and outside, but no one was in the room with him. Probably looking for the nonexistent fire, Spade thought sourly. Whoever that fleeing Captain had been, he’d caused a wonderful diversion from the aliens’ point of view. Likely none of those people running around out there had any idea what was really going on.
Careful to bend over and stand up slowly, Spade examined the walls, the floor, the furniture, everything surrounding the opening. He found his three cartridges on the floor; two were half empty, one was mostly empty. Good, he thought grimly. That means I got’em.
Four soldiers barged into the room, led by Private Waters. They gaped at the bodies on the floor, two with silver handprints, one charred beyond recognition, before spotting him in the corner.
“Spade!” Waters said, with a guilty look. “I’m sorry it took so long. Cavitt needed some convincing, and he was furious you ran off like that.”
Spade gave him a severe look. “Yeah, right. More likely you peed your pants for a few minutes before telling him.”
Waters flushed scarlet. “Did they come? Did they get…what we were guarding?”
“Yes,” Spade answered curtly. “There were two, but I managed to shoot one or both of them…both, I think. They left through here,” he said, indicating the opening in the wall. “Send everyone out there to look.”
“But…”
“Just do it,” Spade shouted. “There’s no fire; that was a ruse. Don’t wait for Cavitt, don’t wait for anyone! We don’t have time!”
Waters hesitated for just a moment before nodding and scurrying out the door with the rest of them. Apparently he had decided that, for the moment at least, Spade was more worrisome than Cavitt.
Spade leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He’d been spared the worst of the invisible punch that had thrown him several feet, partly because his head had hit some boxes instead of the wall, and partly because the punch hadn’t been that strong in the first place. That was good; that meant they’d been weakening even before he shot them. Still, getting thrown against a wall several times in just a few days was hard on the bod, and his recently concussed head was still complaining. Let the others do the legwork for a few minutes.
About ten minutes later, Waters’s voice floated through the opening in the wall. “All clear, Spade. Nothing out here.”
Spade jerked his eyes open. That couldn’t be right. He knew he’d hit at least one of them, and he was pretty sure he’d hit both. Then it dawned on him that the soldiers in his detail had been told to look for human assailants.
“You’re not looking for something human,” he said to Waters, whose eyes grew round as saucers. “You’re looking for something about four feet tall, big head, big black eyes, gray skin.” He moved closer to the opening and looked out at the night. “That would be the perfect disguise out here. They’re small, they’d blend in with the dark better. That’s what they both looked like when they left, Waters. That’s what you have to look for.”
Waters’s eyes were practically popping out of his head now. “Right…right…um….I’ll get right on it.”
Spade sighed. If you want something done right, do it yourself. He headed outside, dodging the scurrying crowds of people looking for a fire that wasn’t there, trying to shake off the spots dancing in front of his eyes.
He was one of the few people on this base who knew exactly what they were looking for. It was up to him.
******************************************************
Spade halted at the upper end of the alley that lay outside the room where the sacs had been secretly—or not so secretly—held. His flashlight beam cut a swath through the darkness, adding to the feeble glow from the lights on the roofs of nearby buildings. Slowly, moving his light from side to side, he started down the alley.
It had to be here. After the alley there was nowhere to hide, only open pavement and a bit of lawn before the fence. But the alley, with its dumpsters and boxes and darkness, was the perfect place for a tranquilized, little gray alien to lay low. And he was going to find it, if he had to tear this place apart with his bare hands.
“Hey!” a voice called.
Spade turned, and was instantly blinded by the flashlight of a fellow soldier. “What?” he asked irritably, holding up one hand against the light.
“We already checked down there,” the voice called.
“Well, I’m checking again. You got a problem with that?”
There was a pause. Then the light bobbed away, its owner retreating. “They checked,” Spade muttered with disgust. The rest of them didn’t even know what they were looking for. They’d probably look right past it if it were lying on the tarmac at their feet.
He reached the end of the alley, briefly glanced at the hole in the wall through which he could hear the excited voices of a whole lot more people than had been in there previously, and turned around. Methodically, he started examining every single thing lining the alley. He opened bags of garbage, moved boxes, even found a stick and sifted through the dumpster. He was a little more than halfway up the alley when movement caught his eye as he heaved some boxes aside. Swinging his flashlight around, he trained it on the dark space behind.
It was curled in a fetal position, occupying so little space that he never would have thought to look there had he not been doing a systematic search. Its eyes were screwed shut against the light, its huge hands over its face. It looked scared, pathetic, and for one brief moment, Spade wondered if he was doing the right thing.
Then he remembered his friends, murdered in their beds as they slept, and his mouth set in a hard line. He lowered his light a bit. “Look at me,” he commanded.
The eyes opened a bit, and it suddenly occurred to Spade that he really didn’t know if this alien was one of the two he had dealt with. How could he tell? Were there more? Then the huge black eyes widened in obvious recognition. Apparently some expressions were universal.
“You know me, don’t you,” Spade said tersely. The huge head gave a slight nod.
“I helped you,” Spade went on in a fierce whisper. “I did the best I could to get your children out of here, to get you and your buddy out of here. Is that a fair statement?”
Another slight nod.
“Then why,” Spade said through gritted teeth, “would you repay me by killing my friends?”
A thin, weak voice, high-pitched like a child’s, came from the huddled gray figure at Spade’s feet. “They were…cutting…had to…stop them.”
“I don’t mean the doctors in there,” Spade said impatiently, remembering the basin of foul smelling liquid with distaste. “I can understand you wanting to save your children. What I don’t understand is hunting down my friends while they slept!”
This time the huge head gave a more pronounced shake. No.
“You deny you were here last night?”
Another shake. No.
“You deny you murdered two people who weren’t doing a damn thing to you?”
“I…was here,” the weak voice confirmed. “I took the remains of the two who died…the two you saw.”
“And then you killed two soldiers in their beds!”
Another, more vigorous head shake. “No. I…killed no one.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Spade hissed furiously. “I saw the bodies! They had silver handprints on the chests, just like that guard you killed outside my door.”
“Lying,” the voice breathed, and there was a trace of bitterness in it now.
“I saw them!” Spade would have dearly loved to grab this thing by its scrawny neck, but he was reluctant to touch it. “I saw the bodies with my own eyes!”
“Saw…how? Close?”
Spade hesitated. No, he hadn’t seen the bodies up close. He had see them at quite a distance, actually, because they wouldn’t let him go inside. Spade hadn’t questioned it at the time, but now….
“Lying,” the voice whispered again. One huge, gray hand lifted, a bony looking, impossibly long finger pointing at….
Him? No. It was pointing over his right shoulder. But there wasn’t anyone else out here, and….
“Well, well,” said a soft voice behind him. “What have we here?”
Spade whirled around to find Captain Cavitt and six other soldiers standing behind him, staring at the alien with expressions ranging from interest, to shock, to utter revulsion.
“Excellent, Private, excellent,” Cavitt continued in that soft, dangerous voice. “I am so pleased. Granted, I was furious with you for running off the way you did. We’ll have a chat about that later. But this….” He paused, gazing down at the gray figure with a hungry expression. “…this means you’re now a Corporal. You have done your country a great service tonight.”
Murmurs of approval rose from the assembled soldiers. Spade looked from the alien, to Cavitt, and back, oblivious to the fact that he had just been promoted. That huge accusing finger was still pointing straight at Cavitt, who obviously had not grasped its meaning.
“Would you look at that thing?” Cavitt breathed, as six additional heads crowded closer to peer. “Such an ugly little beast! Was this the only one?”
“N…no,” Spade said haltingly. His voice wasn’t cooperating. “There was another.”
“And did you hit them both?”
“I….I think so.”
Cavitt cocked his head as he stared at the alien, as though examining a particularly interesting zoo animal. “It’s still awake. Curious. The doctors assured me there was enough in just one of those syringes to stop a horse. But no matter.”
Unceremoniously appropriating the rifle of the nearest soldier, Cavitt extracted a syringe. As Spade watched in horror, he leaned over and plunged the needle into the alien’s back.
The gray body convulsed, shaking violently. The huge hand dropped. For the second time that day, Spade felt like he was going to be sick. He shifted slightly, and the beam from his flashlight fell on Cavitt’s face. He looked positively transported—he was actually enjoying this.
“Yes,” Cavitt said with enormous satisfaction, as he watched the small, gray body twitch. “I’ll bet that hurts, doesn’t it?”
Spade whirled around, fell to his knees, and vomited into the dark alleyway.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right, man,” a sympathetic voice said. “I almost threw up when I saw that thing too.”
Spade continued to heave as squeaking sounds filled the alley behind him. A stretcher had been summoned to take the prisoner away.
A pair of booted feet stepped in front of him. Spade looked up into Captain Cavitt’s hungry eyes.
“Once you’ve recovered, I want you to organize a detail to search the area outside the base,” Cavitt said, oblivious to the puddle of vomit at his feet. “If you did manage to shoot the other one too, it won’t have made it far. If we don’t find it on the base, it’s a good bet it’s somewhere close by.” He laid a firm hand on Spade’s shoulder. “Get me the other one, and I’ll make you a Lieutenant.”
Spade stayed on his hands and knees as the stretcher squeaked off, the footsteps following. He waited several minutes for his stomach to calm down before rising unsteadily to his feet and heading back inside. There was one thing that needed doing before he could be certain how to organize the search.
He needed to be absolutely sure just exactly who his enemy was.
******************************************************
11:00 p.m.
Proctor residence
David Proctor was dreaming.
It was the same dream he’d had for years now, so familiar to him that, even now, half asleep as he was, he knew he was dreaming, and he knew how it would end.
He was running, running hard, his lungs complaining. Several pairs of feet echoed his, pounding over the grassy, uneven ground. Up ahead was a fence that he and his men had to get over because everyone knew what happened when the enemy captured American soldiers.
It seemed to take forever to reach the fence. When he did, he flung himself up three feet and started to climb, feeling the fence wobble as others also hurled themselves at it. After what seemed an eternity, he reached the top and looked back at the slew of enemy uniforms trying to reach them. One of his men slipped and fell, down, down, on the wrong side of the fence…
No!
David stirred, twisting himself around in his bed. He didn’t want to see the next part. He had become adept at waking himself at just this moment so he wouldn’t have to watch Christianson go down again and again and again.
A hand closed over his. Must be Emily; she frequently reached out to comfort him when he had nightmares. He let her hold his hand, and sank back down into the pillow, confident that the dream would not return. It only ever came once.
Suddenly he was running, running hard, his lungs complaining. No, this can’t be right! His feet inexplicably made no sound on the pavement. What happened to the grass? Up ahead was a fence he had to get through, because everyone knew what would happen if he were captured.
No feet echoed his own. He was alone, the sole runner, and he was carrying something with him. No…..not carrying: Transporting. He tried to look down to see what it was, but his head wouldn’t move; his eyes were locked on the goal, the fence just ahead. Despite being unable to see what he transported, he knew it was important. Terribly important. Important enough to die for.
Suddenly, a set of footsteps joined his own. He had reached the fence, and instead of climbing over it, he held up his hand, an inexplicably huge, long-fingered hand, and a portion of the fence melted away. Just as he was about to escape to freedom, a voice behind him said in English, “Halt!”
English? The enemy didn’t speak English. He turned around to find a soldier in an American uniform pointing an odd-looking rifle directly at him.
David thrashed in his sleep. He had no idea why the dream had come twice, or why it was so different this time, but he knew he had to get away from that soldier. The lives of millions depended on it.
Panic filled him. He felt an odd burning sensation filling him, consuming him. He held up a huge, glowing hand; there was a brilliant, blinding flash of light. David sagged against the fence for a moment, exhausted. The soldier pursuing him lay on the ground, rifle still clutched in his hands—and he was burned to a crisp.
David cried out and sat up in bed, flinging his free hand to his face. Good God—where had that come from? He was sweating profusely, and very dizzy; he closed his eyes to stop the spinning just as he heard Emily say, “David, are you all right?”
“Yeah,” he answered in a ragged voice, eyes still closed. “Just a dream. A weird one.”
“What was.…David?” Emily’s voice suddenly took on a harder edge.
“I’ll be all right,” David assured her, still breathing hard.
“David? David!”
“Just give me a minute, will you?” he snapped. “And let go of my hand!”
“David…I’m not holding your hand,” Emily said in a strained voice.
Not holding…what? David opened his eyes; Emily was on his right, a soft silhouette in the dark room. But it was his left hand that someone was holding, and judging from the fact that both of Emily’s hands were now pressed to her face in horror, she wasn’t the one doing the holding.
“Emily?” David said carefully. “Get the light.”
She fumbled for the switch and scrambled back, as both of them looked over the side of the bed toward the source of the hand that had a death grip on David’s wrist.
July 10, 1947, 2205 hours
Eagle Rock Military Base
Private Spade pushed himself to his feet. His head was spinning, and he paused for a moment to get his bearings, leaning against a nearby table. He still had his rifle clutched in a death grip. Setting it on the table, he examined it carefully. All three cartridges were gone.
Something stank, and he looked around for the source, wrinkling his nose. He spied a metal basin on one of the tables that had held the alien sacs. It was full of a thick, grayish-black substance that reeked. One of those dead doctors must have been cutting the sacs open.
Heading over to the opening in the wall, he peered through the narrow crack, too narrow for a person to fit through. He could hear people running and shouting, both in the hallway and outside, but no one was in the room with him. Probably looking for the nonexistent fire, Spade thought sourly. Whoever that fleeing Captain had been, he’d caused a wonderful diversion from the aliens’ point of view. Likely none of those people running around out there had any idea what was really going on.
Careful to bend over and stand up slowly, Spade examined the walls, the floor, the furniture, everything surrounding the opening. He found his three cartridges on the floor; two were half empty, one was mostly empty. Good, he thought grimly. That means I got’em.
Four soldiers barged into the room, led by Private Waters. They gaped at the bodies on the floor, two with silver handprints, one charred beyond recognition, before spotting him in the corner.
“Spade!” Waters said, with a guilty look. “I’m sorry it took so long. Cavitt needed some convincing, and he was furious you ran off like that.”
Spade gave him a severe look. “Yeah, right. More likely you peed your pants for a few minutes before telling him.”
Waters flushed scarlet. “Did they come? Did they get…what we were guarding?”
“Yes,” Spade answered curtly. “There were two, but I managed to shoot one or both of them…both, I think. They left through here,” he said, indicating the opening in the wall. “Send everyone out there to look.”
“But…”
“Just do it,” Spade shouted. “There’s no fire; that was a ruse. Don’t wait for Cavitt, don’t wait for anyone! We don’t have time!”
Waters hesitated for just a moment before nodding and scurrying out the door with the rest of them. Apparently he had decided that, for the moment at least, Spade was more worrisome than Cavitt.
Spade leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He’d been spared the worst of the invisible punch that had thrown him several feet, partly because his head had hit some boxes instead of the wall, and partly because the punch hadn’t been that strong in the first place. That was good; that meant they’d been weakening even before he shot them. Still, getting thrown against a wall several times in just a few days was hard on the bod, and his recently concussed head was still complaining. Let the others do the legwork for a few minutes.
About ten minutes later, Waters’s voice floated through the opening in the wall. “All clear, Spade. Nothing out here.”
Spade jerked his eyes open. That couldn’t be right. He knew he’d hit at least one of them, and he was pretty sure he’d hit both. Then it dawned on him that the soldiers in his detail had been told to look for human assailants.
“You’re not looking for something human,” he said to Waters, whose eyes grew round as saucers. “You’re looking for something about four feet tall, big head, big black eyes, gray skin.” He moved closer to the opening and looked out at the night. “That would be the perfect disguise out here. They’re small, they’d blend in with the dark better. That’s what they both looked like when they left, Waters. That’s what you have to look for.”
Waters’s eyes were practically popping out of his head now. “Right…right…um….I’ll get right on it.”
Spade sighed. If you want something done right, do it yourself. He headed outside, dodging the scurrying crowds of people looking for a fire that wasn’t there, trying to shake off the spots dancing in front of his eyes.
He was one of the few people on this base who knew exactly what they were looking for. It was up to him.
******************************************************
Spade halted at the upper end of the alley that lay outside the room where the sacs had been secretly—or not so secretly—held. His flashlight beam cut a swath through the darkness, adding to the feeble glow from the lights on the roofs of nearby buildings. Slowly, moving his light from side to side, he started down the alley.
It had to be here. After the alley there was nowhere to hide, only open pavement and a bit of lawn before the fence. But the alley, with its dumpsters and boxes and darkness, was the perfect place for a tranquilized, little gray alien to lay low. And he was going to find it, if he had to tear this place apart with his bare hands.
“Hey!” a voice called.
Spade turned, and was instantly blinded by the flashlight of a fellow soldier. “What?” he asked irritably, holding up one hand against the light.
“We already checked down there,” the voice called.
“Well, I’m checking again. You got a problem with that?”
There was a pause. Then the light bobbed away, its owner retreating. “They checked,” Spade muttered with disgust. The rest of them didn’t even know what they were looking for. They’d probably look right past it if it were lying on the tarmac at their feet.
He reached the end of the alley, briefly glanced at the hole in the wall through which he could hear the excited voices of a whole lot more people than had been in there previously, and turned around. Methodically, he started examining every single thing lining the alley. He opened bags of garbage, moved boxes, even found a stick and sifted through the dumpster. He was a little more than halfway up the alley when movement caught his eye as he heaved some boxes aside. Swinging his flashlight around, he trained it on the dark space behind.
It was curled in a fetal position, occupying so little space that he never would have thought to look there had he not been doing a systematic search. Its eyes were screwed shut against the light, its huge hands over its face. It looked scared, pathetic, and for one brief moment, Spade wondered if he was doing the right thing.
Then he remembered his friends, murdered in their beds as they slept, and his mouth set in a hard line. He lowered his light a bit. “Look at me,” he commanded.
The eyes opened a bit, and it suddenly occurred to Spade that he really didn’t know if this alien was one of the two he had dealt with. How could he tell? Were there more? Then the huge black eyes widened in obvious recognition. Apparently some expressions were universal.
“You know me, don’t you,” Spade said tersely. The huge head gave a slight nod.
“I helped you,” Spade went on in a fierce whisper. “I did the best I could to get your children out of here, to get you and your buddy out of here. Is that a fair statement?”
Another slight nod.
“Then why,” Spade said through gritted teeth, “would you repay me by killing my friends?”
A thin, weak voice, high-pitched like a child’s, came from the huddled gray figure at Spade’s feet. “They were…cutting…had to…stop them.”
“I don’t mean the doctors in there,” Spade said impatiently, remembering the basin of foul smelling liquid with distaste. “I can understand you wanting to save your children. What I don’t understand is hunting down my friends while they slept!”
This time the huge head gave a more pronounced shake. No.
“You deny you were here last night?”
Another shake. No.
“You deny you murdered two people who weren’t doing a damn thing to you?”
“I…was here,” the weak voice confirmed. “I took the remains of the two who died…the two you saw.”
“And then you killed two soldiers in their beds!”
Another, more vigorous head shake. “No. I…killed no one.”
“Don’t lie to me,” Spade hissed furiously. “I saw the bodies! They had silver handprints on the chests, just like that guard you killed outside my door.”
“Lying,” the voice breathed, and there was a trace of bitterness in it now.
“I saw them!” Spade would have dearly loved to grab this thing by its scrawny neck, but he was reluctant to touch it. “I saw the bodies with my own eyes!”
“Saw…how? Close?”
Spade hesitated. No, he hadn’t seen the bodies up close. He had see them at quite a distance, actually, because they wouldn’t let him go inside. Spade hadn’t questioned it at the time, but now….
“Lying,” the voice whispered again. One huge, gray hand lifted, a bony looking, impossibly long finger pointing at….
Him? No. It was pointing over his right shoulder. But there wasn’t anyone else out here, and….
“Well, well,” said a soft voice behind him. “What have we here?”
Spade whirled around to find Captain Cavitt and six other soldiers standing behind him, staring at the alien with expressions ranging from interest, to shock, to utter revulsion.
“Excellent, Private, excellent,” Cavitt continued in that soft, dangerous voice. “I am so pleased. Granted, I was furious with you for running off the way you did. We’ll have a chat about that later. But this….” He paused, gazing down at the gray figure with a hungry expression. “…this means you’re now a Corporal. You have done your country a great service tonight.”
Murmurs of approval rose from the assembled soldiers. Spade looked from the alien, to Cavitt, and back, oblivious to the fact that he had just been promoted. That huge accusing finger was still pointing straight at Cavitt, who obviously had not grasped its meaning.
“Would you look at that thing?” Cavitt breathed, as six additional heads crowded closer to peer. “Such an ugly little beast! Was this the only one?”
“N…no,” Spade said haltingly. His voice wasn’t cooperating. “There was another.”
“And did you hit them both?”
“I….I think so.”
Cavitt cocked his head as he stared at the alien, as though examining a particularly interesting zoo animal. “It’s still awake. Curious. The doctors assured me there was enough in just one of those syringes to stop a horse. But no matter.”
Unceremoniously appropriating the rifle of the nearest soldier, Cavitt extracted a syringe. As Spade watched in horror, he leaned over and plunged the needle into the alien’s back.
The gray body convulsed, shaking violently. The huge hand dropped. For the second time that day, Spade felt like he was going to be sick. He shifted slightly, and the beam from his flashlight fell on Cavitt’s face. He looked positively transported—he was actually enjoying this.
“Yes,” Cavitt said with enormous satisfaction, as he watched the small, gray body twitch. “I’ll bet that hurts, doesn’t it?”
Spade whirled around, fell to his knees, and vomited into the dark alleyway.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. “It’s all right, man,” a sympathetic voice said. “I almost threw up when I saw that thing too.”
Spade continued to heave as squeaking sounds filled the alley behind him. A stretcher had been summoned to take the prisoner away.
A pair of booted feet stepped in front of him. Spade looked up into Captain Cavitt’s hungry eyes.
“Once you’ve recovered, I want you to organize a detail to search the area outside the base,” Cavitt said, oblivious to the puddle of vomit at his feet. “If you did manage to shoot the other one too, it won’t have made it far. If we don’t find it on the base, it’s a good bet it’s somewhere close by.” He laid a firm hand on Spade’s shoulder. “Get me the other one, and I’ll make you a Lieutenant.”
Spade stayed on his hands and knees as the stretcher squeaked off, the footsteps following. He waited several minutes for his stomach to calm down before rising unsteadily to his feet and heading back inside. There was one thing that needed doing before he could be certain how to organize the search.
He needed to be absolutely sure just exactly who his enemy was.
******************************************************
11:00 p.m.
Proctor residence
David Proctor was dreaming.
It was the same dream he’d had for years now, so familiar to him that, even now, half asleep as he was, he knew he was dreaming, and he knew how it would end.
He was running, running hard, his lungs complaining. Several pairs of feet echoed his, pounding over the grassy, uneven ground. Up ahead was a fence that he and his men had to get over because everyone knew what happened when the enemy captured American soldiers.
It seemed to take forever to reach the fence. When he did, he flung himself up three feet and started to climb, feeling the fence wobble as others also hurled themselves at it. After what seemed an eternity, he reached the top and looked back at the slew of enemy uniforms trying to reach them. One of his men slipped and fell, down, down, on the wrong side of the fence…
No!
David stirred, twisting himself around in his bed. He didn’t want to see the next part. He had become adept at waking himself at just this moment so he wouldn’t have to watch Christianson go down again and again and again.
A hand closed over his. Must be Emily; she frequently reached out to comfort him when he had nightmares. He let her hold his hand, and sank back down into the pillow, confident that the dream would not return. It only ever came once.
Suddenly he was running, running hard, his lungs complaining. No, this can’t be right! His feet inexplicably made no sound on the pavement. What happened to the grass? Up ahead was a fence he had to get through, because everyone knew what would happen if he were captured.
No feet echoed his own. He was alone, the sole runner, and he was carrying something with him. No…..not carrying: Transporting. He tried to look down to see what it was, but his head wouldn’t move; his eyes were locked on the goal, the fence just ahead. Despite being unable to see what he transported, he knew it was important. Terribly important. Important enough to die for.
Suddenly, a set of footsteps joined his own. He had reached the fence, and instead of climbing over it, he held up his hand, an inexplicably huge, long-fingered hand, and a portion of the fence melted away. Just as he was about to escape to freedom, a voice behind him said in English, “Halt!”
English? The enemy didn’t speak English. He turned around to find a soldier in an American uniform pointing an odd-looking rifle directly at him.
David thrashed in his sleep. He had no idea why the dream had come twice, or why it was so different this time, but he knew he had to get away from that soldier. The lives of millions depended on it.
Panic filled him. He felt an odd burning sensation filling him, consuming him. He held up a huge, glowing hand; there was a brilliant, blinding flash of light. David sagged against the fence for a moment, exhausted. The soldier pursuing him lay on the ground, rifle still clutched in his hands—and he was burned to a crisp.
David cried out and sat up in bed, flinging his free hand to his face. Good God—where had that come from? He was sweating profusely, and very dizzy; he closed his eyes to stop the spinning just as he heard Emily say, “David, are you all right?”
“Yeah,” he answered in a ragged voice, eyes still closed. “Just a dream. A weird one.”
“What was.…David?” Emily’s voice suddenly took on a harder edge.
“I’ll be all right,” David assured her, still breathing hard.
“David? David!”
“Just give me a minute, will you?” he snapped. “And let go of my hand!”
“David…I’m not holding your hand,” Emily said in a strained voice.
Not holding…what? David opened his eyes; Emily was on his right, a soft silhouette in the dark room. But it was his left hand that someone was holding, and judging from the fact that both of Emily’s hands were now pressed to her face in horror, she wasn’t the one doing the holding.
“Emily?” David said carefully. “Get the light.”
She fumbled for the switch and scrambled back, as both of them looked over the side of the bed toward the source of the hand that had a death grip on David’s wrist.
PART SIXTY-FIVE
July 10, 1947, 11:10 p.m.
Proctor residence
David and Emily Proctor exchanged astonished glances. Jaddo lay sprawled on the floor of their bedroom beside David’s side of the bed, his eyes closed, his left hand still gripping David’s wrist. As David moved to peel Jaddo’s hand away, images exploded in his mind.
Two large, glowing sacs, floating in front of him, floating toward the hole he had just made in the fence. A feeling of dread, of panic, that what he guarded would be found. Again.
The images vanished. The bedroom spun back into view, with Emily’s worried face gazing into his own.
“What happened?” she asked. “You…it was like you blanked out there for a minute.”
David stared at her, thoroughly confused. That dream—the first dream had been his, but the second couldn’t have been. His hand had been the size of an alien’s, and he had done impossible things, like burn a hole in a the fence, and….and cook that soldier.
But at least that was a dream. What had just happened now? He wasn’t asleep now. What had he just seen?
Emily was still watching closely. “I don’t know what happened,” he confessed, freeing himself from Jaddo’s grip. “But I think we have bigger problems.” He slid down off the bed and knelt beside Jaddo. His medic training was about to come in handy once more.
“What’s wrong with him?” Emily asked in a hushed voice. “Has he been…”
“…shot?” David finished. “I don’t think so.” He carefully felt Jaddo’s arms and legs. “He’s breathing all right, no broken bones, no bleeding I can see. I’m not sure what happened to him.” He looked up at Emily. “They left those stones in the guest room. Go get them.” Emily nodded, and scurried off.
David looked over Jaddo again, checking for anything he might have missed. He couldn’t find anything obviously wrong with him. “What happened to you?” he murmured, mystified. As he spoke, his hand strayed close to Jaddo’s hand. Jaddo’s eyes flickered half open, and his hand grabbed David’s arm.
A stab of pain in his lower left leg. He looked down to see a skinny, gray leg with an odd looking dart protruding from it. Anger surged through him; he reached down to pluck it out with a gray, long-fingered hand.
“David?”
The images stopped. David looked up at Emily, who was breathing hard and holding the bag with the stones. “Did I…blank out again?”
She nodded, her eyes wide with concern. “What happened?”
“I’m seeing things, Em,” David said slowly, pulling his hand out of Jaddo’s, whose eyes had closed again; he appeared to be unconscious.
“Seeing…things?”
“It’s like…it’s like I’m him,” David said, nodding at Jaddo, “and I’m seeing what happened to him through his eyes. And feeling what he felt,” he added, remembering the panicky feeling as he had piloted the sacs through the hole in the fence.
Emily glanced nervously from one to the other of them, pulling her hastily donned robe closer around her. “Is this what Dee calls their ‘mind speech’? Can you do it now?”
“I don’t think so,” David said, frowning. “She always described that as just talking, like thinking the words instead of saying them. She never mentioned watching someone else’s home movies.” He shook his head. “Whatever it is, it’s not helping. Try the stones.”
Emily knelt down on the floor beside Jaddo and took one of the strange rocks from the bag. It immediately gave off a brilliant glow, and she sat for several minutes with her eyes closed, the glowing stone in her hand. At length, she opened her eyes and shook her head.
“It’s not working,” she reported, “and it feels different. You said he doesn’t seem to be injured, so maybe these only work on injuries.”
“I wish I knew what all those images meant,” David said.
“Maybe he’s trying to communicate with you some other way,” Emily suggested.
Suddenly, Jaddo began to move. His eyes fluttered and his mouth moved, but no sound came out. He seemed to be fighting the effects of whatever had happened to him, struggling to stay conscious.
“What happened to you?” David whispered. “Was that dream really a dream?
“What dream?” Emily asked, sounding genuinely frightened now.
“I had a weird dream,” David said slowly. “I was running from an American soldier, and my hand was large, with really long fingers, just like theirs. And…Emily,” David said slowly. “I think he’s trying to show me what happened to him.”
His eyes still flickering, Jaddo gave a barely perceptible nod.
“But you’re awake now,” Emily argued. “You just blanked out twice when you were wide awake. That was no dream.”
Jaddo’s fingers twitched. He tried to raise his hand and failed. His eyes were open now, staring intently at David.
“You have to touch me, don’t you?” David said. “That’s why you keep grabbing my arm.” No nod this time, but Jaddo’s fingers kept twitching.
“What do you mean he has to ‘touch you’?” Emily asked with alarm. “What is he doing to you?”
“He’s showing me what happened to him,” David explained. “When he touches me, I can see what he saw.”
“How?” Emily demanded, her voice rising a notch.
“Hell, I don’t know,” David said. “But it makes sense. We already know they can communicate telepathically with words—why not pictures?” He moved his hand toward Jaddo’s. “Show me,” he said firmly.
“No!” Emily said, lunging forward and grabbing David’s arm. “Don’t do it!”
“Why not?”
“David, you don’t know what that’ll do to you! Maybe they can communicate telepathically, but humans don’t. It could be dangerous!”
“I want to know what happened to him,” David insisted. “Someone did this to him; I want to know who and how. And where’s Brivari?”
At the mention of Brivari’s name, Jaddo summoned the strength to reach up and over Emily’s arm and grab David’s hand. Images began flashing so fast that David had trouble keeping up with them.
Pulling out the dart….
A soldier in the distance, firing that strange rifle….
Turning around to see a short, gray alien behind him pulling two darts out of his leg….
An alien curled in a fetal position, lying in what looked like an alley outside a building….
Running, running for the fence….burning a hole….the soldier behind him….the raised, glowing hand….the blinding flash of light….two glowing sacs being set down….
David came back to reality with a gasp. Emily was on her hands and knees, staring at him. She looked absolutely terrified.
David waited a moment for his breathing to slow. He felt as though he had been the one pulling the needle out of his leg, he had been the one leaving his friend behind, he had been the one running, running. His heart was racing, his mind whirling as though all of that had just happened to him. By contrast, Jaddo’s hand had fallen back to his side, and he appeared unconscious once more.
“What did you see?” Emily whispered after a minute.
“It was the Army,” David said grimly, putting it all together. “They shot him and Brivari with some kind of tranquilizer dart. That’s why he doesn’t look injured, why the stones won’t work. He’s been drugged.”
“Tranquilizer dart?” Emily repeated. “Like the ones they use in zoos?”
“Probably.”
“So where’s Brivari?”
“At the Army base,” David answered. “He was hit with two darts, and he couldn’t go on. Jaddo managed to get out with two of those sacs I helped them move the other night. There were two left on the ship when the Army found it—I was heading back to get them when George told me what happened. Those sacs are what they’re guarding. That’s what the other two died trying to save. They must not have been able to get them off the ship.”
“But where are they?” Emily asked, looking around nervously, no doubt wondering what else she’d find in her bedroom besides a collapsed alien. “Did he bring them here?”
“I don’t know,” David answered, putting his hand to his forehead and closing his eyes. He felt a headache coming on. “I saw him put them down, but it looked like grass…water…I don’t know where.”
“What’s in them?”
“People.”
“ ‘People’?” Emily echoed blankly.
“From what I understand, their world was attacked unexpectedly,” David explained. “Their royalty, the people they guard, were injured. They brought them here to recover. That’s why these sacs are so important to them. They contain their leaders.”
“Wonderful,” Emily sighed. “More aliens.” She looked down at Jaddo on the floor. “He’s waking up again.”
Jaddo’s eyes had indeed opened again, his hand twitching like before. David hesitated just a moment before reaching for it. Just before taking Jaddo’s hand, he closed his own eyes, hoping that would make things easier.
The sacs gently floated to the ground. It was dark, wet. He could smell the humidity in the air, hear water running. He felt so weak…so weak. A feeling of panic engulfed him. Those sacs must not be found…he must save them…
David felt Jaddo release his hand. The images stopped; David opened his eyes. He felt better this time, less disoriented. Closing his eyes and preparing for it ahead of time had definitely made the whole experience less…unnerving.
“He left the sacs somewhere,” David said to Emily, who was tensely awaiting a report. “Somewhere dark, with running water—I didn’t recognize it. But I know why he came here.”
“Why?” Emily asked, in a voice that sounded as if she wasn’t sure she wanted an answer.
“You want me to go get those sacs, don’t you?” David asked Jaddo.
Another faint nod.
“But…how can you do that if you don’t know where they are?” Emily protested.
David thought a moment. “Go wake up Dee.”
“What?!”
“I said go wake up Dee,” David replied shortly. “She knows these people far better than we do. He might be able to tell her where the sacs are using their telepathic speech.”
Emily scrambled to her feet. “No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“Leave her out of this, David!” Emily said in a warning voice. “She’s gone through too much already as it is.”
“If we’re going to find those sacs before the Army does, we need to find out where they are,” David insisted. “I need her help. And she would want to help,” he added.
“I don’t care what she wants,” Emily said firmly. “I don’t want her involved in this!”
“She’s already involved in this!” David snapped, causing Emily to jump. “We’re all involved in this! Closing your eyes and refusing to look at it will not make it just go away!”
“Look, we’ve already helped these people,” Emily argued, beginning to sound desperate. “We hid them, we fed them, we helped them hide whatever it was they’re hiding. But enough is enough! We’ve got a Sheriff’s deputy on our tail, our child is falling apart, and you want to do more? It’s not safe!”
“This isn’t about what’s ‘safe’,” David said hotly. “This is about what’s right. Is it right to attack people who haven’t attacked you? Is it right to take what doesn’t belong to you? Is it right to shoot darts at them like they’re elephants in a circus? They’ve probably got Brivari, Em. Want to take bets on what they’re going to do to him?”
Emily’s eyes dropped, and she looked away, but said nothing.
David pushed himself to his feet. “I enlisted in the Army five years ago not because it was safe, but because it was right. Someone had to say, enough. Someone had to draw a line in the sand, and I wanted to be one of the people who drew that line. I feel exactly the same way now: Someone has to help these people, and there’s no one else out there to help them but us.”
Emily stared at him a moment, then sank down on the bed, her face stricken. David paused, feeling abashed, his hands on his hips, his eyes on the floor. Where had that come from? It wasn’t like him to lose his temper like this. His enlistment had been a very sore point at the time, was still a sore point. Dee had been only four years old, and Emily had hoped to God that he wouldn’t be drafted. So when he had actually volunteered, she had been furious. And frightened.
“Look….I’m sorry,” he said, sitting down beside her one the bed. “I didn’t mean to bring that up again. That has nothing to do with this.”
“Oh, yes it does,” she said, her voice strained. “It has everything to do with this. I know it was horrible over there, but believe me, it was no picnic here either.” She wiped her face with her hand. “Do you know what it’s like,” she continued, “to wonder each and every day if your husband is still alive? To tremble every time the phone rings, every time someone knocks on the door, because it might be bad news? I’d spot the Western Union man on the street, and I’d just go cold. I’d go inside and shut the doors, and look through the curtains to see if he was heading this way. And sometimes he was heading this way. And then I’d back away from the door and wait for it. Wait for the knock, wait for the telegram that was for me.”
Emily paused, her eyes widening at the memory. “But he never knocked. He always passed by this house and headed to someone else’s. Someone else would get the news that their husband, or their son, or their brother was injured. Or missing. Or captured. Or worse,” she added in a whisper. “A few minutes after he left, the whole neighborhood would head for that house, offering to help, promising meals, and money, and ration coupons. And inside, all the time, every one of us was privately thanking God that it was them, and not us.”
David was silent. There was nothing to say. He’d been in hell overseas, but so had she—hell had many mansions, just like heaven did.
“I lived with that for almost three years,” Emily went on, her voice breaking. “And now I’m living with it again. Only now it’s not just you I could lose, it’s our daughter too. I already went through that once. I don’t want to go through it again. I don’t want to live that way again.”
Emily swiped her hands across her face again. David took his wife in his arms, letting her hide her face in his shoulder, knowing how much she hated to cry in front of other people. Dee was the same way.
“I don’t want to live that way again either,” he said gently. “But no matter what happens, no matter what we decide to do tonight, I will always have to live with myself. And I can’t live with myself if I just sit back and watch this happen without trying to stop it.”
Emily shook her head. “We don’t owe them anything, David. We’ve already repaid what they did for Dee several times over. You felt obligated to defend your country, but this isn’t your country, or even your planet. You have no allegiance to them.”
“No, I don’t,” David admitted, rubbing her shoulder as he spoke. “But I do have an allegiance to myself. To what I think is the decent thing to do. And I have an allegiance to Dee. She started this fight, and I believe it’s a just fight. And deep down, I know you believe that too. How is it going to look to her if we just abandon these people now?”
Emily sighed. “If you feel strongly that you have to do this, I can’t stop you. But leave Dee out of it. She doesn’t need this on top of everything else she’s been through.”
“It’s not right to leave her out of this precisely because of everything else she’s been through,” David said. “Dee is angry because she fought and lost. She feels helpless because someone took something from her, and she was powerless to stop it. This is a chance for her to do something to fix at least some of what’s wrong, to shake off that feeling of powerlessness and the anger that goes with it. Don’t deny her that chance.”
“David, please, just leave her out of it!” Emily insisted.
“Leave me out of what?” came a voice from the door.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
David and Emily stared at the small figure of their daughter, standing in the bedroom doorway, blinking her eyes against the light. They had forgotten their voices would carry, and of course she’d heard them. None of them was sleeping well these days.
“Leave me out of what?” Dee repeated, eyes sweeping the bedroom.
“Nothing, dear,” Emily said, moving swiftly to stand in front of Dee. “Your father and I were just having a discussion.”
“Sounded more like an argument to me,” Dee said frankly, twisting to look around her mother.
“It’s none of your concern,” Emily said firmly. “Back to bed.”
David shook his head sadly. This most definitely was Dee’s concern, more hers than any of theirs. He needed her help, and she needed the opportunity to apply some justice to a world in which she felt there was none.
He hesitated just a moment before stepping sideways so that Dee, looking around her mother, had a clear view of Jaddo’s feet sticking out from the end of the bed. An instant later, she was past her mother and bounding over the bed.
“Jaddo!” she cried. “What happened to him? Is he all right? Did they shoot him too?”
“No,” David assured her hastily, “he hasn’t been shot. At least not with a bullet,” he added. Emily was looking daggers at him, and Dee was regarding him suspiciously too. Lately, he always seemed to be at a place where both of the women in his life were mad at him for some reason or another. “He’s been given some kind of drug that makes him sleep,” David explained, choosing his words carefully.
“Who gave it to him?” Dee demanded, eyes narrowing.
“The Army,” David replied shortly. “Look, near as I can tell, he and Brivari were trying to rescue two of those sacs I helped them move, the two that the Army got hold of. Both of them were given this drug, and Brivari had to stay behind. Jaddo managed to get the sacs out, but he had to leave them somewhere, and he wants me to go get them. But I don’t know where they are.”
But Dee, whose eyes had widened with fear at the mention of Brivari’s fate, had her mind on other things. “They have Brivari?” she asked in a trembling voice. “Oh God, Daddy, what are they going to do to him? Will they kill him?”
“Oh, this is wonderful,” Emily said scornfully. “This is really helping.”
“Be quiet!” Dee shouted at her mother, causing Emily to blanch. Dee turned back to her father. “Will they kill him, Daddy? Will they?”
“I doubt it,” David said carefully, keeping his voice level in the hopes that would calm his daughter. “They deliberately shot them with a drug, not bullets. That means they want them alive. And whatever they did to Brivari doesn’t give you the right to shout at your mother.”
“She doesn’t have the right to not tell me what’s going on!” Dee said hotly. “I pulled Urza out thinking someone would help him. I told Valeris how to surrender, for all the good it did him. I did everything I could think of to keep them alive and none of it worked! It is too my business!”
Dee’s face was contorted with anger. Emily, still white as a sheet, seemed to be at a loss for words.
“Dee, I need your help,” David said, abruptly switching tactics. There wasn’t time to get into this now, and he was hoping that needing her help would draw her attention away from fighting with Emily.
It did. Dee’s eyes snapped to his. “How?”
“He’s trying to tell me where he left the sacs,” David said, indicating Jaddo, “but I can’t figure it out. What is it like when you talk to them with that ‘mind speech’? Is it like watching a movie, like pictures passing through your mind?”
Dee frowned. “No. It’s just like hearing you talk, but the words are in your head, not coming through your ears. But it’s just words; I never saw any pictures.”
“Try to talk to him,” David urged, ignoring the sounds of anguish Emily was making behind him. “Ask him where the sacs are.”
Dee stared hard at Jaddo for several long moments. His eyes still flickered open every few seconds, and when they did, they were fastened on Dee. David sat on the edge of the bed and waited while his wife paced, her hand pressed to her mouth in a posture of despair.
“He’s almost asleep,” Dee reported worriedly after a minute or two. “I can barely hear him, and what I did hear won’t help much. He says he left the sacs in a big metal tube by the water not too far from the base.”
“Big metal tube?”
“That’s what he said.”
“A culvert,” Emily said quietly.
Both David and Dee turned to look at her, surprised.
“A culvert,” Emily repeated. “Warner’s Creek runs for miles south of the base. He would have had to pass it on the way here. There are at least a half dozen bridges that cross it, and each one has a culvert underneath it.”
“But which one?” David asked. “We could spend half the night searching all of them, and I’ll bet the Army is searching too.”
“What were these ‘pictures’ you were talking about, Daddy?” Dee asked.
“I’m not sure,” David said slowly. “When he touched me I could see what happened to him the way he saw it. It’s a little like I’m watching a movie, but I’m seeing it through his eyes, as though I’m him.”
“Did he show you where he put the sacs?”
“Yes….once. But I couldn’t see much—it could have been anywhere.”
“Why don’t I try,” Dee said confidently, reaching for Jaddo’s hand. “Maybe I…”
But she stopped, because Jaddo had just come rather violently to life, pulling his hand away and shaking his head. He raised a shaking finger, pointing it straight at David.
“I think he wants me to do it,” David said.
“Why wouldn’t he want me to do it?” Dee asked, sounding hurt.
“Maybe there are things he doesn’t want you to see,” Emily said, with a pointed look at David. “It would be nice if someone tried to protect the child, even it has to be the alien in the room.”
David considered this while Emily continued to pace. She had a point. He definitely didn’t want Dee seeing that soldier incinerated….
Rising from the bed, David knelt beside Jaddo, who watched him from eyes that were nearly closed. “Can you show me where you put the sacs? Show me where they are, and we’ll go get them. Wait,” he added hastily, as Jaddo’s hand started to rise. “Let me start it. It’s easier on me that way.” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and placed his hand on Jaddo’s.
Images swam in front of his closed eyes, a chaotic mix of pictures that didn’t seem to be related. There were too many to process, all rushing by at dizzying speed. He struggled to pick out a few…
A pink sky with a small red sun and three orangish moons, one of them alarmingly large…
A man slipping a necklace around the neck of a beautiful woman…
Standing somewhere on an upper floor, watching a gray figure with a large head walk alone toward a set of gates…
Dragging that same gray figure, covered in blood, beaten almost beyond recognition…
One of the sacs leaking thick, grayish fluid into a basin…
Two glowing sacs lying in the dark, surrounded by metal walls, water running…
David let go of Jaddo’s hand. Both of their eyes opened simultaneously.
“Well?” Dee asked impatiently. “Did you see where they are?”
“I saw them,” David answered, his voice rough. “But only inside the culvert. That doesn’t tell me which culvert.” He looked down at Jaddo, whose eyes were almost closed. “He’s almost unconscious. He’s finding it hard to focus.”
“Then hurry up! Before he can’t tell us any more! Jaddo,” Dee said urgently, turning to the prone figure on the rug. His eyes flicked open a little wider at the sound of her voice. “Don’t show Daddy the sacs; that doesn’t help. Show him what it looked like when you reached the place where you found the big metal tube. Show him what’s around it.” She nodded to her father. “Try again.”
David closed his eyes and reached for Jaddo’s hand again. This might be his last chance. Jaddo was clearly struggling to remain conscious, but soon he would lose the fight.
More images…too many…fighting….slaughter….blood everywhere….death. People were running, shouting, panic stricken…
The body was on the ground, surrounded by people pummeling it, kicking it. Enraged, he charged into the fray, holding up a huge, gray hand, knocking everyone away with a furious burst of power….
The badly beaten body being dragged into a beam of light…
Four dead bodies, laid out in a row, with four exhausted looking people gathered around them….sadness….desolation…
David released Jaddo’s hand with a gasp. The emotions were raw, overpowering. The feelings of anger and despair were paralyzing. No wonder Jaddo hadn’t wanted Dee to do this.
“What, Daddy? What’s wrong?”
“I’m okay,” David answered, shaking his head to clear the image of that horribly battered body. “It’s just that…I not only see what he saw….I feel what he felt. And it’s kind of overwhelming sometimes.”
“What did you see?” she asked in a hushed voice. “Did you see their planet?”
“Never mind,” David said firmly. “I have to try again. He’s having trouble focusing; I think I’m just seeing whatever’s there in his mind at the moment. Maybe if I think hard about the sacs, he will too.” He closed his eyes and began again.
He was back at the scene of the slaughter…NO! Not here…what he needed wasn’t here. Think of the sacs, Jaddo, the sacs….
The sacs were lying in darkness, surrounded by metal walls and water…not good enough. Back up.
He was flying backwards, becoming airborne, watching the culvert, and then the bridge, recede. A huge weeping willow fell away to his left, and….
The images abruptly faded. David’s eyes snapped open.
“I’ve got it!”
July 10, 1947, 11:10 p.m.
Proctor residence
David and Emily Proctor exchanged astonished glances. Jaddo lay sprawled on the floor of their bedroom beside David’s side of the bed, his eyes closed, his left hand still gripping David’s wrist. As David moved to peel Jaddo’s hand away, images exploded in his mind.
Two large, glowing sacs, floating in front of him, floating toward the hole he had just made in the fence. A feeling of dread, of panic, that what he guarded would be found. Again.
The images vanished. The bedroom spun back into view, with Emily’s worried face gazing into his own.
“What happened?” she asked. “You…it was like you blanked out there for a minute.”
David stared at her, thoroughly confused. That dream—the first dream had been his, but the second couldn’t have been. His hand had been the size of an alien’s, and he had done impossible things, like burn a hole in a the fence, and….and cook that soldier.
But at least that was a dream. What had just happened now? He wasn’t asleep now. What had he just seen?
Emily was still watching closely. “I don’t know what happened,” he confessed, freeing himself from Jaddo’s grip. “But I think we have bigger problems.” He slid down off the bed and knelt beside Jaddo. His medic training was about to come in handy once more.
“What’s wrong with him?” Emily asked in a hushed voice. “Has he been…”
“…shot?” David finished. “I don’t think so.” He carefully felt Jaddo’s arms and legs. “He’s breathing all right, no broken bones, no bleeding I can see. I’m not sure what happened to him.” He looked up at Emily. “They left those stones in the guest room. Go get them.” Emily nodded, and scurried off.
David looked over Jaddo again, checking for anything he might have missed. He couldn’t find anything obviously wrong with him. “What happened to you?” he murmured, mystified. As he spoke, his hand strayed close to Jaddo’s hand. Jaddo’s eyes flickered half open, and his hand grabbed David’s arm.
A stab of pain in his lower left leg. He looked down to see a skinny, gray leg with an odd looking dart protruding from it. Anger surged through him; he reached down to pluck it out with a gray, long-fingered hand.
“David?”
The images stopped. David looked up at Emily, who was breathing hard and holding the bag with the stones. “Did I…blank out again?”
She nodded, her eyes wide with concern. “What happened?”
“I’m seeing things, Em,” David said slowly, pulling his hand out of Jaddo’s, whose eyes had closed again; he appeared to be unconscious.
“Seeing…things?”
“It’s like…it’s like I’m him,” David said, nodding at Jaddo, “and I’m seeing what happened to him through his eyes. And feeling what he felt,” he added, remembering the panicky feeling as he had piloted the sacs through the hole in the fence.
Emily glanced nervously from one to the other of them, pulling her hastily donned robe closer around her. “Is this what Dee calls their ‘mind speech’? Can you do it now?”
“I don’t think so,” David said, frowning. “She always described that as just talking, like thinking the words instead of saying them. She never mentioned watching someone else’s home movies.” He shook his head. “Whatever it is, it’s not helping. Try the stones.”
Emily knelt down on the floor beside Jaddo and took one of the strange rocks from the bag. It immediately gave off a brilliant glow, and she sat for several minutes with her eyes closed, the glowing stone in her hand. At length, she opened her eyes and shook her head.
“It’s not working,” she reported, “and it feels different. You said he doesn’t seem to be injured, so maybe these only work on injuries.”
“I wish I knew what all those images meant,” David said.
“Maybe he’s trying to communicate with you some other way,” Emily suggested.
Suddenly, Jaddo began to move. His eyes fluttered and his mouth moved, but no sound came out. He seemed to be fighting the effects of whatever had happened to him, struggling to stay conscious.
“What happened to you?” David whispered. “Was that dream really a dream?
“What dream?” Emily asked, sounding genuinely frightened now.
“I had a weird dream,” David said slowly. “I was running from an American soldier, and my hand was large, with really long fingers, just like theirs. And…Emily,” David said slowly. “I think he’s trying to show me what happened to him.”
His eyes still flickering, Jaddo gave a barely perceptible nod.
“But you’re awake now,” Emily argued. “You just blanked out twice when you were wide awake. That was no dream.”
Jaddo’s fingers twitched. He tried to raise his hand and failed. His eyes were open now, staring intently at David.
“You have to touch me, don’t you?” David said. “That’s why you keep grabbing my arm.” No nod this time, but Jaddo’s fingers kept twitching.
“What do you mean he has to ‘touch you’?” Emily asked with alarm. “What is he doing to you?”
“He’s showing me what happened to him,” David explained. “When he touches me, I can see what he saw.”
“How?” Emily demanded, her voice rising a notch.
“Hell, I don’t know,” David said. “But it makes sense. We already know they can communicate telepathically with words—why not pictures?” He moved his hand toward Jaddo’s. “Show me,” he said firmly.
“No!” Emily said, lunging forward and grabbing David’s arm. “Don’t do it!”
“Why not?”
“David, you don’t know what that’ll do to you! Maybe they can communicate telepathically, but humans don’t. It could be dangerous!”
“I want to know what happened to him,” David insisted. “Someone did this to him; I want to know who and how. And where’s Brivari?”
At the mention of Brivari’s name, Jaddo summoned the strength to reach up and over Emily’s arm and grab David’s hand. Images began flashing so fast that David had trouble keeping up with them.
Pulling out the dart….
A soldier in the distance, firing that strange rifle….
Turning around to see a short, gray alien behind him pulling two darts out of his leg….
An alien curled in a fetal position, lying in what looked like an alley outside a building….
Running, running for the fence….burning a hole….the soldier behind him….the raised, glowing hand….the blinding flash of light….two glowing sacs being set down….
David came back to reality with a gasp. Emily was on her hands and knees, staring at him. She looked absolutely terrified.
David waited a moment for his breathing to slow. He felt as though he had been the one pulling the needle out of his leg, he had been the one leaving his friend behind, he had been the one running, running. His heart was racing, his mind whirling as though all of that had just happened to him. By contrast, Jaddo’s hand had fallen back to his side, and he appeared unconscious once more.
“What did you see?” Emily whispered after a minute.
“It was the Army,” David said grimly, putting it all together. “They shot him and Brivari with some kind of tranquilizer dart. That’s why he doesn’t look injured, why the stones won’t work. He’s been drugged.”
“Tranquilizer dart?” Emily repeated. “Like the ones they use in zoos?”
“Probably.”
“So where’s Brivari?”
“At the Army base,” David answered. “He was hit with two darts, and he couldn’t go on. Jaddo managed to get out with two of those sacs I helped them move the other night. There were two left on the ship when the Army found it—I was heading back to get them when George told me what happened. Those sacs are what they’re guarding. That’s what the other two died trying to save. They must not have been able to get them off the ship.”
“But where are they?” Emily asked, looking around nervously, no doubt wondering what else she’d find in her bedroom besides a collapsed alien. “Did he bring them here?”
“I don’t know,” David answered, putting his hand to his forehead and closing his eyes. He felt a headache coming on. “I saw him put them down, but it looked like grass…water…I don’t know where.”
“What’s in them?”
“People.”
“ ‘People’?” Emily echoed blankly.
“From what I understand, their world was attacked unexpectedly,” David explained. “Their royalty, the people they guard, were injured. They brought them here to recover. That’s why these sacs are so important to them. They contain their leaders.”
“Wonderful,” Emily sighed. “More aliens.” She looked down at Jaddo on the floor. “He’s waking up again.”
Jaddo’s eyes had indeed opened again, his hand twitching like before. David hesitated just a moment before reaching for it. Just before taking Jaddo’s hand, he closed his own eyes, hoping that would make things easier.
The sacs gently floated to the ground. It was dark, wet. He could smell the humidity in the air, hear water running. He felt so weak…so weak. A feeling of panic engulfed him. Those sacs must not be found…he must save them…
David felt Jaddo release his hand. The images stopped; David opened his eyes. He felt better this time, less disoriented. Closing his eyes and preparing for it ahead of time had definitely made the whole experience less…unnerving.
“He left the sacs somewhere,” David said to Emily, who was tensely awaiting a report. “Somewhere dark, with running water—I didn’t recognize it. But I know why he came here.”
“Why?” Emily asked, in a voice that sounded as if she wasn’t sure she wanted an answer.
“You want me to go get those sacs, don’t you?” David asked Jaddo.
Another faint nod.
“But…how can you do that if you don’t know where they are?” Emily protested.
David thought a moment. “Go wake up Dee.”
“What?!”
“I said go wake up Dee,” David replied shortly. “She knows these people far better than we do. He might be able to tell her where the sacs are using their telepathic speech.”
Emily scrambled to her feet. “No.”
“What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“Leave her out of this, David!” Emily said in a warning voice. “She’s gone through too much already as it is.”
“If we’re going to find those sacs before the Army does, we need to find out where they are,” David insisted. “I need her help. And she would want to help,” he added.
“I don’t care what she wants,” Emily said firmly. “I don’t want her involved in this!”
“She’s already involved in this!” David snapped, causing Emily to jump. “We’re all involved in this! Closing your eyes and refusing to look at it will not make it just go away!”
“Look, we’ve already helped these people,” Emily argued, beginning to sound desperate. “We hid them, we fed them, we helped them hide whatever it was they’re hiding. But enough is enough! We’ve got a Sheriff’s deputy on our tail, our child is falling apart, and you want to do more? It’s not safe!”
“This isn’t about what’s ‘safe’,” David said hotly. “This is about what’s right. Is it right to attack people who haven’t attacked you? Is it right to take what doesn’t belong to you? Is it right to shoot darts at them like they’re elephants in a circus? They’ve probably got Brivari, Em. Want to take bets on what they’re going to do to him?”
Emily’s eyes dropped, and she looked away, but said nothing.
David pushed himself to his feet. “I enlisted in the Army five years ago not because it was safe, but because it was right. Someone had to say, enough. Someone had to draw a line in the sand, and I wanted to be one of the people who drew that line. I feel exactly the same way now: Someone has to help these people, and there’s no one else out there to help them but us.”
Emily stared at him a moment, then sank down on the bed, her face stricken. David paused, feeling abashed, his hands on his hips, his eyes on the floor. Where had that come from? It wasn’t like him to lose his temper like this. His enlistment had been a very sore point at the time, was still a sore point. Dee had been only four years old, and Emily had hoped to God that he wouldn’t be drafted. So when he had actually volunteered, she had been furious. And frightened.
“Look….I’m sorry,” he said, sitting down beside her one the bed. “I didn’t mean to bring that up again. That has nothing to do with this.”
“Oh, yes it does,” she said, her voice strained. “It has everything to do with this. I know it was horrible over there, but believe me, it was no picnic here either.” She wiped her face with her hand. “Do you know what it’s like,” she continued, “to wonder each and every day if your husband is still alive? To tremble every time the phone rings, every time someone knocks on the door, because it might be bad news? I’d spot the Western Union man on the street, and I’d just go cold. I’d go inside and shut the doors, and look through the curtains to see if he was heading this way. And sometimes he was heading this way. And then I’d back away from the door and wait for it. Wait for the knock, wait for the telegram that was for me.”
Emily paused, her eyes widening at the memory. “But he never knocked. He always passed by this house and headed to someone else’s. Someone else would get the news that their husband, or their son, or their brother was injured. Or missing. Or captured. Or worse,” she added in a whisper. “A few minutes after he left, the whole neighborhood would head for that house, offering to help, promising meals, and money, and ration coupons. And inside, all the time, every one of us was privately thanking God that it was them, and not us.”
David was silent. There was nothing to say. He’d been in hell overseas, but so had she—hell had many mansions, just like heaven did.
“I lived with that for almost three years,” Emily went on, her voice breaking. “And now I’m living with it again. Only now it’s not just you I could lose, it’s our daughter too. I already went through that once. I don’t want to go through it again. I don’t want to live that way again.”
Emily swiped her hands across her face again. David took his wife in his arms, letting her hide her face in his shoulder, knowing how much she hated to cry in front of other people. Dee was the same way.
“I don’t want to live that way again either,” he said gently. “But no matter what happens, no matter what we decide to do tonight, I will always have to live with myself. And I can’t live with myself if I just sit back and watch this happen without trying to stop it.”
Emily shook her head. “We don’t owe them anything, David. We’ve already repaid what they did for Dee several times over. You felt obligated to defend your country, but this isn’t your country, or even your planet. You have no allegiance to them.”
“No, I don’t,” David admitted, rubbing her shoulder as he spoke. “But I do have an allegiance to myself. To what I think is the decent thing to do. And I have an allegiance to Dee. She started this fight, and I believe it’s a just fight. And deep down, I know you believe that too. How is it going to look to her if we just abandon these people now?”
Emily sighed. “If you feel strongly that you have to do this, I can’t stop you. But leave Dee out of it. She doesn’t need this on top of everything else she’s been through.”
“It’s not right to leave her out of this precisely because of everything else she’s been through,” David said. “Dee is angry because she fought and lost. She feels helpless because someone took something from her, and she was powerless to stop it. This is a chance for her to do something to fix at least some of what’s wrong, to shake off that feeling of powerlessness and the anger that goes with it. Don’t deny her that chance.”
“David, please, just leave her out of it!” Emily insisted.
“Leave me out of what?” came a voice from the door.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++
David and Emily stared at the small figure of their daughter, standing in the bedroom doorway, blinking her eyes against the light. They had forgotten their voices would carry, and of course she’d heard them. None of them was sleeping well these days.
“Leave me out of what?” Dee repeated, eyes sweeping the bedroom.
“Nothing, dear,” Emily said, moving swiftly to stand in front of Dee. “Your father and I were just having a discussion.”
“Sounded more like an argument to me,” Dee said frankly, twisting to look around her mother.
“It’s none of your concern,” Emily said firmly. “Back to bed.”
David shook his head sadly. This most definitely was Dee’s concern, more hers than any of theirs. He needed her help, and she needed the opportunity to apply some justice to a world in which she felt there was none.
He hesitated just a moment before stepping sideways so that Dee, looking around her mother, had a clear view of Jaddo’s feet sticking out from the end of the bed. An instant later, she was past her mother and bounding over the bed.
“Jaddo!” she cried. “What happened to him? Is he all right? Did they shoot him too?”
“No,” David assured her hastily, “he hasn’t been shot. At least not with a bullet,” he added. Emily was looking daggers at him, and Dee was regarding him suspiciously too. Lately, he always seemed to be at a place where both of the women in his life were mad at him for some reason or another. “He’s been given some kind of drug that makes him sleep,” David explained, choosing his words carefully.
“Who gave it to him?” Dee demanded, eyes narrowing.
“The Army,” David replied shortly. “Look, near as I can tell, he and Brivari were trying to rescue two of those sacs I helped them move, the two that the Army got hold of. Both of them were given this drug, and Brivari had to stay behind. Jaddo managed to get the sacs out, but he had to leave them somewhere, and he wants me to go get them. But I don’t know where they are.”
But Dee, whose eyes had widened with fear at the mention of Brivari’s fate, had her mind on other things. “They have Brivari?” she asked in a trembling voice. “Oh God, Daddy, what are they going to do to him? Will they kill him?”
“Oh, this is wonderful,” Emily said scornfully. “This is really helping.”
“Be quiet!” Dee shouted at her mother, causing Emily to blanch. Dee turned back to her father. “Will they kill him, Daddy? Will they?”
“I doubt it,” David said carefully, keeping his voice level in the hopes that would calm his daughter. “They deliberately shot them with a drug, not bullets. That means they want them alive. And whatever they did to Brivari doesn’t give you the right to shout at your mother.”
“She doesn’t have the right to not tell me what’s going on!” Dee said hotly. “I pulled Urza out thinking someone would help him. I told Valeris how to surrender, for all the good it did him. I did everything I could think of to keep them alive and none of it worked! It is too my business!”
Dee’s face was contorted with anger. Emily, still white as a sheet, seemed to be at a loss for words.
“Dee, I need your help,” David said, abruptly switching tactics. There wasn’t time to get into this now, and he was hoping that needing her help would draw her attention away from fighting with Emily.
It did. Dee’s eyes snapped to his. “How?”
“He’s trying to tell me where he left the sacs,” David said, indicating Jaddo, “but I can’t figure it out. What is it like when you talk to them with that ‘mind speech’? Is it like watching a movie, like pictures passing through your mind?”
Dee frowned. “No. It’s just like hearing you talk, but the words are in your head, not coming through your ears. But it’s just words; I never saw any pictures.”
“Try to talk to him,” David urged, ignoring the sounds of anguish Emily was making behind him. “Ask him where the sacs are.”
Dee stared hard at Jaddo for several long moments. His eyes still flickered open every few seconds, and when they did, they were fastened on Dee. David sat on the edge of the bed and waited while his wife paced, her hand pressed to her mouth in a posture of despair.
“He’s almost asleep,” Dee reported worriedly after a minute or two. “I can barely hear him, and what I did hear won’t help much. He says he left the sacs in a big metal tube by the water not too far from the base.”
“Big metal tube?”
“That’s what he said.”
“A culvert,” Emily said quietly.
Both David and Dee turned to look at her, surprised.
“A culvert,” Emily repeated. “Warner’s Creek runs for miles south of the base. He would have had to pass it on the way here. There are at least a half dozen bridges that cross it, and each one has a culvert underneath it.”
“But which one?” David asked. “We could spend half the night searching all of them, and I’ll bet the Army is searching too.”
“What were these ‘pictures’ you were talking about, Daddy?” Dee asked.
“I’m not sure,” David said slowly. “When he touched me I could see what happened to him the way he saw it. It’s a little like I’m watching a movie, but I’m seeing it through his eyes, as though I’m him.”
“Did he show you where he put the sacs?”
“Yes….once. But I couldn’t see much—it could have been anywhere.”
“Why don’t I try,” Dee said confidently, reaching for Jaddo’s hand. “Maybe I…”
But she stopped, because Jaddo had just come rather violently to life, pulling his hand away and shaking his head. He raised a shaking finger, pointing it straight at David.
“I think he wants me to do it,” David said.
“Why wouldn’t he want me to do it?” Dee asked, sounding hurt.
“Maybe there are things he doesn’t want you to see,” Emily said, with a pointed look at David. “It would be nice if someone tried to protect the child, even it has to be the alien in the room.”
David considered this while Emily continued to pace. She had a point. He definitely didn’t want Dee seeing that soldier incinerated….
Rising from the bed, David knelt beside Jaddo, who watched him from eyes that were nearly closed. “Can you show me where you put the sacs? Show me where they are, and we’ll go get them. Wait,” he added hastily, as Jaddo’s hand started to rise. “Let me start it. It’s easier on me that way.” He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and placed his hand on Jaddo’s.
Images swam in front of his closed eyes, a chaotic mix of pictures that didn’t seem to be related. There were too many to process, all rushing by at dizzying speed. He struggled to pick out a few…
A pink sky with a small red sun and three orangish moons, one of them alarmingly large…
A man slipping a necklace around the neck of a beautiful woman…
Standing somewhere on an upper floor, watching a gray figure with a large head walk alone toward a set of gates…
Dragging that same gray figure, covered in blood, beaten almost beyond recognition…
One of the sacs leaking thick, grayish fluid into a basin…
Two glowing sacs lying in the dark, surrounded by metal walls, water running…
David let go of Jaddo’s hand. Both of their eyes opened simultaneously.
“Well?” Dee asked impatiently. “Did you see where they are?”
“I saw them,” David answered, his voice rough. “But only inside the culvert. That doesn’t tell me which culvert.” He looked down at Jaddo, whose eyes were almost closed. “He’s almost unconscious. He’s finding it hard to focus.”
“Then hurry up! Before he can’t tell us any more! Jaddo,” Dee said urgently, turning to the prone figure on the rug. His eyes flicked open a little wider at the sound of her voice. “Don’t show Daddy the sacs; that doesn’t help. Show him what it looked like when you reached the place where you found the big metal tube. Show him what’s around it.” She nodded to her father. “Try again.”
David closed his eyes and reached for Jaddo’s hand again. This might be his last chance. Jaddo was clearly struggling to remain conscious, but soon he would lose the fight.
More images…too many…fighting….slaughter….blood everywhere….death. People were running, shouting, panic stricken…
The body was on the ground, surrounded by people pummeling it, kicking it. Enraged, he charged into the fray, holding up a huge, gray hand, knocking everyone away with a furious burst of power….
The badly beaten body being dragged into a beam of light…
Four dead bodies, laid out in a row, with four exhausted looking people gathered around them….sadness….desolation…
David released Jaddo’s hand with a gasp. The emotions were raw, overpowering. The feelings of anger and despair were paralyzing. No wonder Jaddo hadn’t wanted Dee to do this.
“What, Daddy? What’s wrong?”
“I’m okay,” David answered, shaking his head to clear the image of that horribly battered body. “It’s just that…I not only see what he saw….I feel what he felt. And it’s kind of overwhelming sometimes.”
“What did you see?” she asked in a hushed voice. “Did you see their planet?”
“Never mind,” David said firmly. “I have to try again. He’s having trouble focusing; I think I’m just seeing whatever’s there in his mind at the moment. Maybe if I think hard about the sacs, he will too.” He closed his eyes and began again.
He was back at the scene of the slaughter…NO! Not here…what he needed wasn’t here. Think of the sacs, Jaddo, the sacs….
The sacs were lying in darkness, surrounded by metal walls and water…not good enough. Back up.
He was flying backwards, becoming airborne, watching the culvert, and then the bridge, recede. A huge weeping willow fell away to his left, and….
The images abruptly faded. David’s eyes snapped open.
“I’ve got it!”
PART SIXTY-SIX
July 10, 1947, 11:55 p.m.
Proctor residence
“Where?” Dee asked excitedly. “Where are they?”
David was already on his feet, rifling through his closet. “I think he blacked out right at the end there, but I saw a weeping willow. There’s a line of those along part of the creek, which is weird because they usually don’t grow here. It doesn’t tell us which bridge they’re under, but it does narrow it down to two or three.”
“So you’re going then,” Emily said heavily.
David looked over at her as he pulled on a pair of dark pants. “Of course I’m going. He put the sacs in the culvert because he didn’t have the strength to cover them up, but they’re still glowing like beacons. Someone is going to find those things, and I think it should be the right someone. Whatever they gave him will wear off eventually,” he added with a nod toward Jaddo, who did look completely unconscious now. “When he wakes up, he’ll be able to take care of them.”
“I’m going too,” Dee announced, slipping off the bed.
“No,” Emily said firmly. “If your father is determined to do this, so be it, but you don’t have to.”
“Two of my friends died trying to save what’s in those sacs,” Dee said, ignoring her mother and addressing her father. “I don’t want them to have died for nothing. Please, Daddy. I need to go.”
David looked from his daughter to his wife, who was throwing all sorts of warning looks his way. Then he nodded to Dee, who turned and sprinted for her room. “Wear something dark!” he called after her. “Something with long sleeves!”
“I don’t believe this!” Emily exclaimed. “Asking her to talk to him was one thing, but taking her with you? What for?”
“Haven’t we been over this?” David answered, fumbling with a pair of socks.
“No. We haven’t,” Emily argued. “You never mentioned taking her with you! She’s eight years-old, for God’s sake! She doesn’t have any experience with.......”
“With what?” David interrupted. “Hiding from the Army? Keeping aliens safe? She’s way ahead of me on both counts.”
“You were an Army officer,” Emily said severely. “And accidentally getting trapped inside their ship is not what I’d call ‘experience’!”
“Emily, you said you were worried about Dee, about how angry she’s been. Letting her do something tangible is one way to counter that anger. And I need the help—these things are big, and they looked heavy. We’ll probably have to haul them out of a culvert into the car.”
“Why? Why bring them here? Just hide them better, or move them somewhere else. You don’t have to bring them here!”
“Do you remember what I told you was in those sacs?” David demanded.
Emily swallowed. “Yes. Their injured royalty.”
“Right. They are completely and utterly defenseless. You didn’t answer me a few minutes ago when I asked you if you knew what they’d do to Brivari. What do think they’re going to do to whoever’s in those sacs?”
Emily stared at the floor, saying nothing. David stopped dressing and put his hands on her shoulders. “I know you’re not thrilled about this,” he said gently, “and I don’t blame you. I’m not either. But this is the right thing to do. I’m sure of it.”
As David pulled a black sweater out of a dresser drawer, Emily abruptly stood up. He fully expected her to stalk out of the room in a huff, and was surprised when she headed for the closet, shrugging off her robe.
“What are you doing?”
“Coming with you.”
“Coming? But….I thought you disapproved.”
“Look, I have no objection to helping these people,” Emily said, pulling out some dark pants and shutting the closet door with a bang, “but I have wild objections to sacrificing my family in the process. We came way too close to losing our daughter a few days ago for my comfort. But, since you’re determined, and since both of you seem to have inexplicably developed a death wish, it’s best that I go. Three heads are better than one. Besides,” she added, with a catch in her voice, “if they find you......I’d rather go with you than be left alone here.”
“They won’t find us,” David said softly, watching her pull on a long-sleeved, dark shirt. “We can always say we were out for a stroll.”
Emily shot him a withering look. “In the middle of the night? Oh, I’m sure they’d buy that.” She disappeared into the hallway, returning with a stack of blankets just as David finished dressing.
“What are those for?”
“You said those things are glowing, right?”
“Yes.”
“And how big are they?”
“One filled the trunk,” David said, remembering. “I guess we’ll have to stick the other one in the back seat.”
“Splendid. And do you want huge, alien, glowing things shining for all the world to see?” Emily asked, holding up the stack of blankets like a waitress with a tray of drinks.
“No,” David replied with a sheepish look, “I don’t.” He plopped the blankets down on the bed and took her in his arms. “See? We’re already better off having you in the gang.”
“I’m only trying to make sure everyone gets back in one piece,” Emily said dryly, just as Dee came back into the room.
“I’m ready,” she announced, pulling up short at the sight of her mother. “Mama? Are you coming too?”
David cleared his throat. “Your mother has decided that the chances of this mission’s success are far greater if she joins us,” he announced, as Emily rolled her eyes.
“She’s right,” Dee answered seriously, plopping down on the bed. “That’s the way it worked on the Underground Railroad. Whole families were in on it—they picked up black people and hid them until they could get them to Canada.”
“I’m glad to see you were listening in history class,” Emily commented.
“The same thing happened when people were helping the Jews get away from Hitler,” Dee added.
David and Emily stared at their daughter, who gazed placidly back at them. Emily’s eyes swiveled around to rest upon her husband, who looked mildly surprised. But only mildly.
“I swear,” he said, holding up his right hand, “I always put the newspapers at the bottom of the trash can. Scout’s honor.”
“I found them,” Dee said simply.
“I noticed,” Emily said, with a touch of irony in her voice. “But I doubt we can compare this to either Jews or negroes.”
“What’s the difference? People hated them because they were different. Some people were willing to help them, and some people wanted to, but were too scared.”
Emily glanced sharply at her daughter, the implied accusation hanging in the air. “I can sympathize,” she said after a moment, her voice shaking a little. “They had good reasons to be scared.”
“Maybe,” Dee allowed.
“Definitely,” Emily said. “Now why don’t you go downstairs and find us some flashlights. And extra batteries.”
Dee left, and David watched sympathetically as Emily sank down on the bed, staring at Jaddo on the floor at her feet. Dee had always been opinionated—and God knows she didn’t get that from the trees—but this was a level of challenge they’d never had to deal with before. If this was any indication of what adolescence would be like, they’d best brace themselves.
“Did we really think we could keep our daughter ignorant of her own world?” Emily whispered suddenly.
David blinked. “What?”
“He asked me that,” Emily said quietly, nodding toward Jaddo, “in his usual diplomatic way. I’ve been chewing on an answer ever since. She paused, hugging herself as though she were cold. “We tried so hard to keep the war away from her. Did any of it work? Was it even worth it?”
“I think it was worth a try,” David answered. “At least we toned it down so it wasn’t in her face all the time. But perhaps we expected too much. You can’t hide something like a world war, Em. You can’t hide the fact that your father’s gone, and some of your friend’s fathers and brothers won’t be coming home. It’s too damned big to hide, and she was bound to be curious.”
“So she found out by digging newspapers out of a trash can. He was right,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “We should have been sitting beside her when she learned all this, filtering it, interpreting it, answering her questions. It was our job to control the flow of information, not cut it off entirely. That didn’t work anyway.”
David sat down beside his wife, tucking his feet into his boots. “We did what we felt was best for her at the time. And I would argue we were right, at least at first. She was a lot younger then. She’s going to be nine shortly; she’s not a little girl anymore. Maybe we just did what was initially the right thing for a bit too long.”
“How are we supposed to know what’s too long?”
“By paying attention to signs like these,” David answered. “Other than that, we don’t know. Kids don’t come with manuals. We just do the best we can. Just like we’re doing now.” He picked up the stack of blankets and held out his hand. “Come on. We’d better get going.”
Emily sighed and followed him to the door, grabbing his arm as they reached it. “Promise me one thing,” she said, glancing over at Jaddo.”
“What?”
“Don’t you ever tell him I agreed with him.”
David smiled and slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Your secret is safe with me.”
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
Spade hurried down one of the now teeming hallways of Building 7354. Doors that were previously locked were now open as soldiers searched feverishly for any further signs of alien activity. He knew they wouldn’t find any. The aliens had only wanted one thing, and from the looks of things, they’d gotten away with it.
He turned a corner, running now, no one noticing because everyone was running one way or the other. When he reached the room where he’d viewed West’s and Belmont’s bodies, it was open. The window he’d looked through was straight ahead, the storage area for bodies beyond it.
A guard appeared out of nowhere, keys jingling on his belt. “Don’t waste your time—they already searched. There’s nothin’ here.”
“I need to get in there,” Spade said shortly, indicating the room behind the window. He knew he’d get flack, and he didn’t care. He was ready to beat this guy senseless for his keys if necessary.
“Only the docs go in…..Hey!” the guard said, peering at his name tag. “ ‘Spade’ Are you the Private Spade? The one who caught the monsters?”
Spade winced inwardly at word ‘monsters’. He had a very bad feeling the monster wasn’t who he thought it was. He was about to bark at the guard when he saw the look of admiration on his face, and decided that admiration could be put to good use.
“Well…yeah. I am,” Spade said, managing a small smile and not bothering to correct the guard’s use of the plural. “I guess word travels fast.”
“Wow! Good on you!” The guard was positively beaming. “How’d you do it? Catch’em, I mean.”
“Look…I need a favor,” Spade said, deliberately making his voice shaky. “Those…monsters killed two of my friends and I really, really want to see the bodies one more time.”
The guard now looked doubtful as well as impressed. “I’d love to help you, man, but I’m not supposed to let anyone back there without authorization.” He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “That’s where they’ve got’em all, y’know. All the ones killed by aliens. They don’t want anyone else to know.”
“I already know,” Spade pointed out, matching the guard’s whisper.
That settled it for the guard. “You’re right. You’re right! Besides, it’s the least I can do for the guy who caught the monsters. Anything for a hero! But you can’t tell anyone I let you in there. It’d be my neck.” He led Spade over to the inner door and produced a set of keys. “Just a few minutes, now. The lights are to the right of the door. If I see someone coming, I’ll knock twice on the window. That means you have to turn the lights out. Got it?”
Spade nodded. The guard unlocked the door and hustled Spade inside. Then he retreated to the main doorway, turned around, and gave Spade a thumbs up sign, his face still positively radiating admiration.
Spade fumbled for the light switch. The lights were incredibly bright, so much so that Spade saw the guard outside closing the main door a bit more so the brilliant light couldn’t be seen from the hallway. Refrigerated drawers lined the walls, each neatly labeled with a name. The room was cold, and Spade moved along the rows of labels, shivering as he read them.
He had to go through two rows of drawers before he found the first one: “West, Arthur, Private”. He hesitated, his hand on the drawer handle, torn between wanting and not wanting the answer. The cold started to sting his hand as he stood there, steeling himself against what he would see. Or wouldn’t see. It was hard to decide which was worse.
Finally, he closed his eyes and pulled the drawer open. He took several deep breaths before opening his eyes.
West lay as though asleep, white as a sheet, stiff as a board. There was indeed a silver handprint on his left upper chest, just as he had seen this morning. But then he had been looking through the window; seeing it up close for the first time, he instinctively knew something was awry. The handprints he had seen had been literally burned into the victim’s flesh, the surrounding skin raw and reddened. But West’s chest looked untouched. There was no evidence of burning anywhere.
A horrible suspicion came over Spade. Slowly, hesitantly, he raised his hand to touch the handprint. He winced when his fingers connected with cold, dead flesh, but he squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to touch it, rub his fingers over it.
When he pulled his hand away, his fingertips were silver.
Breathing hard, Spade raised his shaking hand in front of his face. Paint. He fingered the silver tint on his hands, held it to his nose—it was paint. Someone had faked this, to make it look like an alien death.
Cavitt.
A flush of anger crept up Spade’s face. With a speed bordering on panic, Spade slammed West’s drawer shut and began looking frantically for Belmont. He found him at the end of the row sporting the same painted handprint. He slammed the door shut with such force they probably heard him three rooms over and let our a howl, pounding his fists on the wall. He murdered them! The stinking bastard murdered them!
Trembling violently, Spade turned around and slid down the wall to the floor. How stupid could he have been? Cavitt had killed West and Belmont to keep them quiet, and had used their deaths to extract information from him. Cavitt had played him like a fiddle, and he had fallen for it completely.
“We assume they’re trying to remove anyone who saw them alive.” A true statement; he had just misidentified the pronoun, “they”. And this answered the question about why he had been left alive: Cavitt couldn’t afford to kill him. Spade had information he hadn’t shared, and Cavitt knew that. He had known full well that Spade was likely to get angry at this cock-and-bull story, and Spade had not let him down.
So now what? Now that Cavitt had what he wanted, would he try to murder Spade too? And what should he do now that he had this information? Would it do any good to blow Cavitt in? Spade had no proof that Cavitt was behind it, no idea what had really killed West and Belmont. Cavitt must have higher-ups in on this, or he never would have gotten away with it in the first place—at the very least, the doctors must have known. Should he resign now that he knew his commanding officer murdered in cold blood? Would they even let him?
Spade forced himself to his feet and headed for the door. If he stayed here any longer, he’d be sick again. He clicked off the lights and opened the door to the main room; the guard at the door turned and looked at him, alarmed.
“Are you okay? You look terrible!”
“Yeah, I…I’m fine,” Spade said. His voice was shaking despite his attempts to steady it. “It’s just…hard…looking at them…you know.”
“Look at it this way,” the guard said sympathetically. “You got the monsters who did it. I bet that’s a good feeling, ain’t it? Knowing that they got what was coming to them, and that you stopped’em from doing it again.”
Spade stared at the guard so long that the guard started to fidget. Then his mouth set in a hard line.
“You’re right,” he said to the guard, who was looking at him as though he feared Spade had become unhinged during his time in the inner room. “It’s a good feeling to get the one who did it.” He clapped the guard on the shoulder. “Thanks. You just pointed the way.”
Spade took off out the door, ignoring the guard’s puzzled look, absolutely sure now of his direction. Cavitt had just promoted him and praised him to the skies. He still didn’t know Spade knew about the murders, and Spade meant to keep it that way. Ratting Cavitt out wouldn’t help; Cavitt would just destroy the evidence, and he’d wind up just like his buddies, lying in a refrigerated drawer with a fake silver handprint. No—he would stay, and worm his way even further into whatever Cavitt was planning for the captured alien. He would be the thorn in Cavitt’s side, the bane of his existence. He would make his life a living hell.
Smiling, Spade jogged outside into the starry night. He had been ordered to muster a detail and search the surrounding area, and he would do just that.
And do his damnedest to make certain nothing was found.
******************************************************
Soldiers streamed by, hurrying to and fro. The base was a flurry of activity, so no one noticed two soldiers slip into a quiet alcove, stand near each other, and face each other as if to speak.
<They were here,> Amar said tensely. <Two of them. So were the hybrids. They managed to rescue them.>
Malik allowed himself an invisible sigh of relief. They had been searching fruitlessly at the base for the past several hours, finding nothing but materials that the humans had removed from the ship. When the alarms had sounded, it had taken them awhile to find the source. It was all over by the time they got there, rumors were rife, and they’d had to eavesdrop on many a conversation before they’d learned anything useful.
<Do we know where they are now?>
<They got one of them,> Amar said with a nasty smile. <I don’t know which one. Shot him with some sort of drug that knocked him out. The other one got away, but the word is he was shot too. That one took the hybrids with him, and he’s out there somewhere. I don’t know how far he could have made it.>
<I heard something as well,> Malik replied. <There were two captured earlier this week; both are dead.>
<They’ve undoubtedly gone to dust by now,> Amar said. <We won’t be able to tell who died until we see who lived.> He glanced at the soldiers hurrying by. <There’s a search party being formed for the one that got away. I’m going on ahead of them. You stay here and see if you can get close to whoever it is they caught.>
<Wouldn’t you rather do that?> Malik said quickly.
A little too quickly. <Why?> Amar asked, with a touch of suspicion in his voice.
Malik thought fast. If it was Brivari who had escaped, the last person he wanted to find him would be Amar. If there was any chance of being reinstated, any chance of effecting any change at all, it lay with Brivari: He had the King’s ear, as much as anyone could. And if Brivari had been captured, he was likely safe from Amar for the moment. Amar would need help to remove him from the human compound.
<What if it was Brivari who was captured? Just think, Amar,> Malik said slowly, <of what it would feel like to find Brivari helpless. Defenseless. Completely at your mercy.>
Malik watched a distinctly unpleasant smile spread across his partner’s face as Amar’s baser instincts took hold, never a long wait even on a good day. Amar blamed Brivari for the state in which they had found themselves when they had decided to defect; unjustifiably so, in Malik’s opinion. True, Brivari had led the coalition that had supported Riall’s bid for the throne, and accepted the conditions he had imposed all those years ago. But Brivari had merely been the leader. He was supported by the vast majority of the Covari, and Malik did not feel that Brivari alone should be held to account for the manner in which those conditions had been used.
Amar, however, was of the opinion that Brivari should be held personally responsible for the way things had slid downhill. His hatred of Brivari was legendary. Malik knew perfectly well that Amar would give a lot to see Brivari brought to his knees.
<It might not be Brivari who was captured,> Amar was saying, in the tone of someone who is trying to talk himself out of something. <It might be any of the other three.>
<But what if it is?> Malik said suggestively, raising an eyebrow. <Besides, even if it isn’t, wouldn’t it be satisfying to see any of them in that condition?>
That settled it. <It would,> Amar breathed, smiling, happy to have been handed an excuse. <It would indeed. You go,> he said to Malik, <and find whoever escaped, or the hybrids—he may have had to abandon them. Make sure you’re ahead of the humans. I will stay here and see if I can find whoever they captured.> He walked away quickly, eagerly, eyes shining like a hunter who had finally picked up the scent of his prey.
Some people crave war, Malik mused as he watched Amar’s retreating figure. They simply could not find a place for themselves in peace. Khivar was like that; so was Amar. And then there were those like Brivari, willing to make enormous concessions to gain peace. Malik agreed that peace was a laudable goal, but sometimes the ‘peace’ which came at such a high price was really no peace at all.
Malik walked out into the night, observing the search party being formed as he slipped into shadow and took to the air. He had decided where to start, but he had no idea who or what he would find, or what would happen when he got there. The answer to that probably depended on whether the one he found was more like those who craved war, or more like those who craved peace.
******************************************************
July 11, 1947, 12:25 a.m.
Proctor residence
Deputy Valenti jerked awake. His decision to keep watch on the Proctor’s house during the night had made him less visible, but it was much harder to stay awake. He had almost nodded off several times tonight already. Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea.
Noises caught his ear, soft noises that would have gone unnoticed in the daytime, but were magnified at night. He grabbed his binoculars. He was stationed much closer to the Proctor household than he could safely manage during the day, although the darkness rather cut back on that advantage. Still, he could see plenty, and what he saw made his heart race.
The Proctors were leaving. All three of them were heading toward their car, dark, shadowy figures dressed in dark clothing. Valenti watched the girl climb into the back seat, while the parents opened the trunk and put something inside.
Now, where on earth were they going at this time of night? And with the kid? Dressed in dark clothes? Valenti heard their car start, and was suddenly gripped with indecision. Should he follow them, or use this golden opportunity to get inside their house? He swung his binoculars toward the house, dark and silent against the night sky. There would never be a better time.
Still undecided, Valenti watched the Proctor’s car back out of the driveway, unaware that two more pairs of eyes watched from close by, one of which was pondering the same question.
July 10, 1947, 11:55 p.m.
Proctor residence
“Where?” Dee asked excitedly. “Where are they?”
David was already on his feet, rifling through his closet. “I think he blacked out right at the end there, but I saw a weeping willow. There’s a line of those along part of the creek, which is weird because they usually don’t grow here. It doesn’t tell us which bridge they’re under, but it does narrow it down to two or three.”
“So you’re going then,” Emily said heavily.
David looked over at her as he pulled on a pair of dark pants. “Of course I’m going. He put the sacs in the culvert because he didn’t have the strength to cover them up, but they’re still glowing like beacons. Someone is going to find those things, and I think it should be the right someone. Whatever they gave him will wear off eventually,” he added with a nod toward Jaddo, who did look completely unconscious now. “When he wakes up, he’ll be able to take care of them.”
“I’m going too,” Dee announced, slipping off the bed.
“No,” Emily said firmly. “If your father is determined to do this, so be it, but you don’t have to.”
“Two of my friends died trying to save what’s in those sacs,” Dee said, ignoring her mother and addressing her father. “I don’t want them to have died for nothing. Please, Daddy. I need to go.”
David looked from his daughter to his wife, who was throwing all sorts of warning looks his way. Then he nodded to Dee, who turned and sprinted for her room. “Wear something dark!” he called after her. “Something with long sleeves!”
“I don’t believe this!” Emily exclaimed. “Asking her to talk to him was one thing, but taking her with you? What for?”
“Haven’t we been over this?” David answered, fumbling with a pair of socks.
“No. We haven’t,” Emily argued. “You never mentioned taking her with you! She’s eight years-old, for God’s sake! She doesn’t have any experience with.......”
“With what?” David interrupted. “Hiding from the Army? Keeping aliens safe? She’s way ahead of me on both counts.”
“You were an Army officer,” Emily said severely. “And accidentally getting trapped inside their ship is not what I’d call ‘experience’!”
“Emily, you said you were worried about Dee, about how angry she’s been. Letting her do something tangible is one way to counter that anger. And I need the help—these things are big, and they looked heavy. We’ll probably have to haul them out of a culvert into the car.”
“Why? Why bring them here? Just hide them better, or move them somewhere else. You don’t have to bring them here!”
“Do you remember what I told you was in those sacs?” David demanded.
Emily swallowed. “Yes. Their injured royalty.”
“Right. They are completely and utterly defenseless. You didn’t answer me a few minutes ago when I asked you if you knew what they’d do to Brivari. What do think they’re going to do to whoever’s in those sacs?”
Emily stared at the floor, saying nothing. David stopped dressing and put his hands on her shoulders. “I know you’re not thrilled about this,” he said gently, “and I don’t blame you. I’m not either. But this is the right thing to do. I’m sure of it.”
As David pulled a black sweater out of a dresser drawer, Emily abruptly stood up. He fully expected her to stalk out of the room in a huff, and was surprised when she headed for the closet, shrugging off her robe.
“What are you doing?”
“Coming with you.”
“Coming? But….I thought you disapproved.”
“Look, I have no objection to helping these people,” Emily said, pulling out some dark pants and shutting the closet door with a bang, “but I have wild objections to sacrificing my family in the process. We came way too close to losing our daughter a few days ago for my comfort. But, since you’re determined, and since both of you seem to have inexplicably developed a death wish, it’s best that I go. Three heads are better than one. Besides,” she added, with a catch in her voice, “if they find you......I’d rather go with you than be left alone here.”
“They won’t find us,” David said softly, watching her pull on a long-sleeved, dark shirt. “We can always say we were out for a stroll.”
Emily shot him a withering look. “In the middle of the night? Oh, I’m sure they’d buy that.” She disappeared into the hallway, returning with a stack of blankets just as David finished dressing.
“What are those for?”
“You said those things are glowing, right?”
“Yes.”
“And how big are they?”
“One filled the trunk,” David said, remembering. “I guess we’ll have to stick the other one in the back seat.”
“Splendid. And do you want huge, alien, glowing things shining for all the world to see?” Emily asked, holding up the stack of blankets like a waitress with a tray of drinks.
“No,” David replied with a sheepish look, “I don’t.” He plopped the blankets down on the bed and took her in his arms. “See? We’re already better off having you in the gang.”
“I’m only trying to make sure everyone gets back in one piece,” Emily said dryly, just as Dee came back into the room.
“I’m ready,” she announced, pulling up short at the sight of her mother. “Mama? Are you coming too?”
David cleared his throat. “Your mother has decided that the chances of this mission’s success are far greater if she joins us,” he announced, as Emily rolled her eyes.
“She’s right,” Dee answered seriously, plopping down on the bed. “That’s the way it worked on the Underground Railroad. Whole families were in on it—they picked up black people and hid them until they could get them to Canada.”
“I’m glad to see you were listening in history class,” Emily commented.
“The same thing happened when people were helping the Jews get away from Hitler,” Dee added.
David and Emily stared at their daughter, who gazed placidly back at them. Emily’s eyes swiveled around to rest upon her husband, who looked mildly surprised. But only mildly.
“I swear,” he said, holding up his right hand, “I always put the newspapers at the bottom of the trash can. Scout’s honor.”
“I found them,” Dee said simply.
“I noticed,” Emily said, with a touch of irony in her voice. “But I doubt we can compare this to either Jews or negroes.”
“What’s the difference? People hated them because they were different. Some people were willing to help them, and some people wanted to, but were too scared.”
Emily glanced sharply at her daughter, the implied accusation hanging in the air. “I can sympathize,” she said after a moment, her voice shaking a little. “They had good reasons to be scared.”
“Maybe,” Dee allowed.
“Definitely,” Emily said. “Now why don’t you go downstairs and find us some flashlights. And extra batteries.”
Dee left, and David watched sympathetically as Emily sank down on the bed, staring at Jaddo on the floor at her feet. Dee had always been opinionated—and God knows she didn’t get that from the trees—but this was a level of challenge they’d never had to deal with before. If this was any indication of what adolescence would be like, they’d best brace themselves.
“Did we really think we could keep our daughter ignorant of her own world?” Emily whispered suddenly.
David blinked. “What?”
“He asked me that,” Emily said quietly, nodding toward Jaddo, “in his usual diplomatic way. I’ve been chewing on an answer ever since. She paused, hugging herself as though she were cold. “We tried so hard to keep the war away from her. Did any of it work? Was it even worth it?”
“I think it was worth a try,” David answered. “At least we toned it down so it wasn’t in her face all the time. But perhaps we expected too much. You can’t hide something like a world war, Em. You can’t hide the fact that your father’s gone, and some of your friend’s fathers and brothers won’t be coming home. It’s too damned big to hide, and she was bound to be curious.”
“So she found out by digging newspapers out of a trash can. He was right,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “We should have been sitting beside her when she learned all this, filtering it, interpreting it, answering her questions. It was our job to control the flow of information, not cut it off entirely. That didn’t work anyway.”
David sat down beside his wife, tucking his feet into his boots. “We did what we felt was best for her at the time. And I would argue we were right, at least at first. She was a lot younger then. She’s going to be nine shortly; she’s not a little girl anymore. Maybe we just did what was initially the right thing for a bit too long.”
“How are we supposed to know what’s too long?”
“By paying attention to signs like these,” David answered. “Other than that, we don’t know. Kids don’t come with manuals. We just do the best we can. Just like we’re doing now.” He picked up the stack of blankets and held out his hand. “Come on. We’d better get going.”
Emily sighed and followed him to the door, grabbing his arm as they reached it. “Promise me one thing,” she said, glancing over at Jaddo.”
“What?”
“Don’t you ever tell him I agreed with him.”
David smiled and slipped his arm around her shoulders. “Your secret is safe with me.”
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
Spade hurried down one of the now teeming hallways of Building 7354. Doors that were previously locked were now open as soldiers searched feverishly for any further signs of alien activity. He knew they wouldn’t find any. The aliens had only wanted one thing, and from the looks of things, they’d gotten away with it.
He turned a corner, running now, no one noticing because everyone was running one way or the other. When he reached the room where he’d viewed West’s and Belmont’s bodies, it was open. The window he’d looked through was straight ahead, the storage area for bodies beyond it.
A guard appeared out of nowhere, keys jingling on his belt. “Don’t waste your time—they already searched. There’s nothin’ here.”
“I need to get in there,” Spade said shortly, indicating the room behind the window. He knew he’d get flack, and he didn’t care. He was ready to beat this guy senseless for his keys if necessary.
“Only the docs go in…..Hey!” the guard said, peering at his name tag. “ ‘Spade’ Are you the Private Spade? The one who caught the monsters?”
Spade winced inwardly at word ‘monsters’. He had a very bad feeling the monster wasn’t who he thought it was. He was about to bark at the guard when he saw the look of admiration on his face, and decided that admiration could be put to good use.
“Well…yeah. I am,” Spade said, managing a small smile and not bothering to correct the guard’s use of the plural. “I guess word travels fast.”
“Wow! Good on you!” The guard was positively beaming. “How’d you do it? Catch’em, I mean.”
“Look…I need a favor,” Spade said, deliberately making his voice shaky. “Those…monsters killed two of my friends and I really, really want to see the bodies one more time.”
The guard now looked doubtful as well as impressed. “I’d love to help you, man, but I’m not supposed to let anyone back there without authorization.” He leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “That’s where they’ve got’em all, y’know. All the ones killed by aliens. They don’t want anyone else to know.”
“I already know,” Spade pointed out, matching the guard’s whisper.
That settled it for the guard. “You’re right. You’re right! Besides, it’s the least I can do for the guy who caught the monsters. Anything for a hero! But you can’t tell anyone I let you in there. It’d be my neck.” He led Spade over to the inner door and produced a set of keys. “Just a few minutes, now. The lights are to the right of the door. If I see someone coming, I’ll knock twice on the window. That means you have to turn the lights out. Got it?”
Spade nodded. The guard unlocked the door and hustled Spade inside. Then he retreated to the main doorway, turned around, and gave Spade a thumbs up sign, his face still positively radiating admiration.
Spade fumbled for the light switch. The lights were incredibly bright, so much so that Spade saw the guard outside closing the main door a bit more so the brilliant light couldn’t be seen from the hallway. Refrigerated drawers lined the walls, each neatly labeled with a name. The room was cold, and Spade moved along the rows of labels, shivering as he read them.
He had to go through two rows of drawers before he found the first one: “West, Arthur, Private”. He hesitated, his hand on the drawer handle, torn between wanting and not wanting the answer. The cold started to sting his hand as he stood there, steeling himself against what he would see. Or wouldn’t see. It was hard to decide which was worse.
Finally, he closed his eyes and pulled the drawer open. He took several deep breaths before opening his eyes.
West lay as though asleep, white as a sheet, stiff as a board. There was indeed a silver handprint on his left upper chest, just as he had seen this morning. But then he had been looking through the window; seeing it up close for the first time, he instinctively knew something was awry. The handprints he had seen had been literally burned into the victim’s flesh, the surrounding skin raw and reddened. But West’s chest looked untouched. There was no evidence of burning anywhere.
A horrible suspicion came over Spade. Slowly, hesitantly, he raised his hand to touch the handprint. He winced when his fingers connected with cold, dead flesh, but he squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to touch it, rub his fingers over it.
When he pulled his hand away, his fingertips were silver.
Breathing hard, Spade raised his shaking hand in front of his face. Paint. He fingered the silver tint on his hands, held it to his nose—it was paint. Someone had faked this, to make it look like an alien death.
Cavitt.
A flush of anger crept up Spade’s face. With a speed bordering on panic, Spade slammed West’s drawer shut and began looking frantically for Belmont. He found him at the end of the row sporting the same painted handprint. He slammed the door shut with such force they probably heard him three rooms over and let our a howl, pounding his fists on the wall. He murdered them! The stinking bastard murdered them!
Trembling violently, Spade turned around and slid down the wall to the floor. How stupid could he have been? Cavitt had killed West and Belmont to keep them quiet, and had used their deaths to extract information from him. Cavitt had played him like a fiddle, and he had fallen for it completely.
“We assume they’re trying to remove anyone who saw them alive.” A true statement; he had just misidentified the pronoun, “they”. And this answered the question about why he had been left alive: Cavitt couldn’t afford to kill him. Spade had information he hadn’t shared, and Cavitt knew that. He had known full well that Spade was likely to get angry at this cock-and-bull story, and Spade had not let him down.
So now what? Now that Cavitt had what he wanted, would he try to murder Spade too? And what should he do now that he had this information? Would it do any good to blow Cavitt in? Spade had no proof that Cavitt was behind it, no idea what had really killed West and Belmont. Cavitt must have higher-ups in on this, or he never would have gotten away with it in the first place—at the very least, the doctors must have known. Should he resign now that he knew his commanding officer murdered in cold blood? Would they even let him?
Spade forced himself to his feet and headed for the door. If he stayed here any longer, he’d be sick again. He clicked off the lights and opened the door to the main room; the guard at the door turned and looked at him, alarmed.
“Are you okay? You look terrible!”
“Yeah, I…I’m fine,” Spade said. His voice was shaking despite his attempts to steady it. “It’s just…hard…looking at them…you know.”
“Look at it this way,” the guard said sympathetically. “You got the monsters who did it. I bet that’s a good feeling, ain’t it? Knowing that they got what was coming to them, and that you stopped’em from doing it again.”
Spade stared at the guard so long that the guard started to fidget. Then his mouth set in a hard line.
“You’re right,” he said to the guard, who was looking at him as though he feared Spade had become unhinged during his time in the inner room. “It’s a good feeling to get the one who did it.” He clapped the guard on the shoulder. “Thanks. You just pointed the way.”
Spade took off out the door, ignoring the guard’s puzzled look, absolutely sure now of his direction. Cavitt had just promoted him and praised him to the skies. He still didn’t know Spade knew about the murders, and Spade meant to keep it that way. Ratting Cavitt out wouldn’t help; Cavitt would just destroy the evidence, and he’d wind up just like his buddies, lying in a refrigerated drawer with a fake silver handprint. No—he would stay, and worm his way even further into whatever Cavitt was planning for the captured alien. He would be the thorn in Cavitt’s side, the bane of his existence. He would make his life a living hell.
Smiling, Spade jogged outside into the starry night. He had been ordered to muster a detail and search the surrounding area, and he would do just that.
And do his damnedest to make certain nothing was found.
******************************************************
Soldiers streamed by, hurrying to and fro. The base was a flurry of activity, so no one noticed two soldiers slip into a quiet alcove, stand near each other, and face each other as if to speak.
<They were here,> Amar said tensely. <Two of them. So were the hybrids. They managed to rescue them.>
Malik allowed himself an invisible sigh of relief. They had been searching fruitlessly at the base for the past several hours, finding nothing but materials that the humans had removed from the ship. When the alarms had sounded, it had taken them awhile to find the source. It was all over by the time they got there, rumors were rife, and they’d had to eavesdrop on many a conversation before they’d learned anything useful.
<Do we know where they are now?>
<They got one of them,> Amar said with a nasty smile. <I don’t know which one. Shot him with some sort of drug that knocked him out. The other one got away, but the word is he was shot too. That one took the hybrids with him, and he’s out there somewhere. I don’t know how far he could have made it.>
<I heard something as well,> Malik replied. <There were two captured earlier this week; both are dead.>
<They’ve undoubtedly gone to dust by now,> Amar said. <We won’t be able to tell who died until we see who lived.> He glanced at the soldiers hurrying by. <There’s a search party being formed for the one that got away. I’m going on ahead of them. You stay here and see if you can get close to whoever it is they caught.>
<Wouldn’t you rather do that?> Malik said quickly.
A little too quickly. <Why?> Amar asked, with a touch of suspicion in his voice.
Malik thought fast. If it was Brivari who had escaped, the last person he wanted to find him would be Amar. If there was any chance of being reinstated, any chance of effecting any change at all, it lay with Brivari: He had the King’s ear, as much as anyone could. And if Brivari had been captured, he was likely safe from Amar for the moment. Amar would need help to remove him from the human compound.
<What if it was Brivari who was captured? Just think, Amar,> Malik said slowly, <of what it would feel like to find Brivari helpless. Defenseless. Completely at your mercy.>
Malik watched a distinctly unpleasant smile spread across his partner’s face as Amar’s baser instincts took hold, never a long wait even on a good day. Amar blamed Brivari for the state in which they had found themselves when they had decided to defect; unjustifiably so, in Malik’s opinion. True, Brivari had led the coalition that had supported Riall’s bid for the throne, and accepted the conditions he had imposed all those years ago. But Brivari had merely been the leader. He was supported by the vast majority of the Covari, and Malik did not feel that Brivari alone should be held to account for the manner in which those conditions had been used.
Amar, however, was of the opinion that Brivari should be held personally responsible for the way things had slid downhill. His hatred of Brivari was legendary. Malik knew perfectly well that Amar would give a lot to see Brivari brought to his knees.
<It might not be Brivari who was captured,> Amar was saying, in the tone of someone who is trying to talk himself out of something. <It might be any of the other three.>
<But what if it is?> Malik said suggestively, raising an eyebrow. <Besides, even if it isn’t, wouldn’t it be satisfying to see any of them in that condition?>
That settled it. <It would,> Amar breathed, smiling, happy to have been handed an excuse. <It would indeed. You go,> he said to Malik, <and find whoever escaped, or the hybrids—he may have had to abandon them. Make sure you’re ahead of the humans. I will stay here and see if I can find whoever they captured.> He walked away quickly, eagerly, eyes shining like a hunter who had finally picked up the scent of his prey.
Some people crave war, Malik mused as he watched Amar’s retreating figure. They simply could not find a place for themselves in peace. Khivar was like that; so was Amar. And then there were those like Brivari, willing to make enormous concessions to gain peace. Malik agreed that peace was a laudable goal, but sometimes the ‘peace’ which came at such a high price was really no peace at all.
Malik walked out into the night, observing the search party being formed as he slipped into shadow and took to the air. He had decided where to start, but he had no idea who or what he would find, or what would happen when he got there. The answer to that probably depended on whether the one he found was more like those who craved war, or more like those who craved peace.
******************************************************
July 11, 1947, 12:25 a.m.
Proctor residence
Deputy Valenti jerked awake. His decision to keep watch on the Proctor’s house during the night had made him less visible, but it was much harder to stay awake. He had almost nodded off several times tonight already. Perhaps this hadn’t been such a good idea.
Noises caught his ear, soft noises that would have gone unnoticed in the daytime, but were magnified at night. He grabbed his binoculars. He was stationed much closer to the Proctor household than he could safely manage during the day, although the darkness rather cut back on that advantage. Still, he could see plenty, and what he saw made his heart race.
The Proctors were leaving. All three of them were heading toward their car, dark, shadowy figures dressed in dark clothing. Valenti watched the girl climb into the back seat, while the parents opened the trunk and put something inside.
Now, where on earth were they going at this time of night? And with the kid? Dressed in dark clothes? Valenti heard their car start, and was suddenly gripped with indecision. Should he follow them, or use this golden opportunity to get inside their house? He swung his binoculars toward the house, dark and silent against the night sky. There would never be a better time.
Still undecided, Valenti watched the Proctor’s car back out of the driveway, unaware that two more pairs of eyes watched from close by, one of which was pondering the same question.
PART SIXTY-SEVEN
July 11, 1947, 12:50 a.m.
Warner’s Creek, south of Eagle Rock Military Base
“Stay up here and let us know if you see anyone coming,” David Proctor said to his daughter, as he and his wife clambered down the bank to the culvert that supported the bridge over this part of Warner’s Creek. “Just take a stick, or a stone, and throw it into the culvert. We’ll hear it. And don’t turn on your flashlight unless you absolutely have to.”
Dee nodded, and watched as her parents entered the near end of the culvert. On the way here they had consulted the map in the glove compartment of their car and identified three bridges they were pretty sure were near weeping willows. This was the first one on the list. The other two lay ahead, the second one relatively close, the third a good ways further off. The crescent moon gave off a fair amount of light as she looked west to where the third bridge lay, wishing her parents would hurry up. Then she saw something that nearly made her stop breathing.
Lights had appeared in the direction of the third bridge, tiny pinpoints that looked like fireflies from this distance. But unless she was seeing the world’s first ever firefly marching band, these lights were way too organized to be anything other than flashlights. Flashlights likely held by soldiers who were likely looking for the same thing she was.
Dee held her breath as the lights reached the third bridge, and some descended into the creek bed. She strained her ears to hear commotion, any shouts of alarm. But the night was silent while the lights continued to mill around in semi-organized fashion. They hadn’t found them. And that meant that unless her father had completely misinterpreted what Jaddo had shown him, the sacs had to be in one of the first two culverts—the one her parents were in now, or the one in the middle.
Dee looked impatiently down at the culvert. She couldn’t see her parents, or hear anything other than vague scuffling sounds from below. Her father had said the sacs were out in the open, glowing for all to see. If they were in this culvert, they might be able to get them out in time, or at least hide them until the Army had passed. But if they were in the second one…
Hurry up! Dee thought frantically. The tiny lights were still milling around far away, probably searching not just the culvert but the entire creek bed. She and her parents knew the sacs were in a culvert, so they had an advantage, but if her parents took too long, that advantage would be useless.
In the distance, a tiny light detached itself from the throng and started moving slowly down the creek toward the second bridge. Alarmed, Dee looked back and forth from the solitary light to the culvert her parents were searching. She could tell them, but they couldn’t just hop in the car and drive up to the second bridge; even with their lights off, the car would be heard.
“We will not have another chance to do this. So many have died; we cannot afford to lose even one more unnecessarily. There have been too many mishaps. Too many mistakes.”
The lone light was moving east slowly, but steadily. Dee tucked her flashlight into her pocket and took off at a run, knowing that she was closer to the second bridge than the bearer of that light, and determined this would not turn into yet another mistake.
******************************************************
Proctor residence
Soft footsteps roamed the empty rooms of the Proctor household. Silently they moved from the kitchen, to the back porch, to the living room. They ascended the front stairs, pausing only for a moment when the eighth step creaked, as it always did.
At the top of the stairs, the footsteps paused, listening. Gravitating toward the first bedroom on the right, they stood in the doorway for just a moment before moving into the room, to the other side of the bed, where a figure lay on the floor, absolutely still in the pale moonlight.
The owner of the footsteps, a mere shadow in the dark bedroom, knelt beside the figure on the floor, examining it carefully. Instruments were produced; the shadow hovered over the prone figure for several minutes, but the figure never moved.
At length the shadow rose, and the footsteps padded softly back downstairs, leaving no trace they had ever been there at all.
******************************************************
Warner’s Creek
“See anything?” David Proctor called to his wife, the water up to his ankles as he sifted through the debris inside the culvert, most of which was rocks and dirt and a few stray leaves.
“Nothing on this side,” Emily called, having worked her way to the other end. “If they’re here, they’re well hidden.”
“Let’s move to the next one then,” David said, heading out the end of the culvert, with his wife following.
They clambered up the bank, arms swinging, shoes squishing. When they reached the top, both heads swiveled first in one direction, then another.
“Do you think she went to the car?” Emily asked, in an I-just-knew-something-like-this-was-going-to-happen tone of voice.
David shook his head. “No way.” Then he noticed the pinpoints of light to the west, and one single light approaching the second bridge over the creek.
“Emily,” David said quickly, “get in the car. Now!”
******************************************************
Dee slipped and slid down the relatively short bank into the creek. She’d lost sight of the solitary light about two thirds of the way here, which hopefully meant that whoever was wielding it had given up pursuit. Even if they hadn’t, she’d been moving far faster than the light bearer, so she should have at least a few minutes to make some decisions if decisions proved necessary.
She reached the end of the culvert and peered cautiously inside. Once glance told her what she needed to know. Unfortunately, one glance would tell anyone what they needed to know.
The sacs were halfway down the culvert, lying on rocks which kept them out of the water. Or likely had kept them out of the water initially. One of the sacs had slipped partway off the rock into the chilly water, and Dee thought worriedly about the special box in which they had been placed on the ship. Probably to keep them warm, she thought. That sac halfway in the water would be anything but warm.
Dee splashed through the creek water, partly soaking herself in the process, until she reached them. They weren’t glowing as brightly as she remembered, but in the darkness of the culvert, they might just as well have been lighthouses. With difficulty, she heaved the slipping sac out of the water, grabbing the leathery skin and pulling, grunting with the effort. God, that thing was heavy.
When she finally had most of it out of the water, she started looking around for something to cover them with. Nothing suitable was at hand. Maybe some tree branches? Would that be enough to hide two big, glowing things from nosy soldiers? Probably not, but she would have to try. She headed back for the opening of the culvert. Halfway there, a noise made her look up. A bird flew across the end of the culvert, and her heart leapt with hope. Was that Jaddo? Had he recovered enough to come and help them?
But the noise was coming from above her head; footsteps. Someone was walking over the culvert, and before she could process this fact, choose a course of action, or even simply panic, skidding noises could be heard, and a lone figure holding a flashlight came into view at the end of the culvert. It stood silhouetted against the summer night sky for just a moment before swinging its flashlight inside the culvert.
Swiftly, Dee whipped out her flashlight and trained it on the figure, blinding it just as its flashlight blinded her.
“Who are you?” barked a male voice. “Get that light out of my eyes!”
Definitely not Jaddo. “Not until you get your light out of my eyes,” Dee retorted.
More footsteps. The figure was coming closer. Dee couldn’t retreat because the sacs were behind her, so she moved forward instead, holding her flashlight as steady as she could given the fact that her hands were trembling badly. She was still blinded by the other light, so she couldn’t see who was coming, but as long as whoever he was blinded by her light, she hoped he wouldn’t be able to see the sacs. And the further she was from the sacs when she had to stop, the better.
The footsteps stopped about ten feet in front of her. The glare from the light was almost unbearable; she had to squint fiercely to see anything at all. He was close enough now that she could see bits of the uniform, and her heart sank. She was too late.
The light dipped a little. For a moment, Dee saw the face of the soldier. He looked familiar.
“Red sneakers,” he whispered. “We found a red sneaker. And someone said they saw a little girl.” The light returned to her face. “You were on the ship, weren’t you?”
And suddenly Dee realized why this soldier looked familiar. He was the one she had seen squatting outside the room where she’d pulled Urza, holding the red sneaker she had left outside to mark the door.
Anger boiled over in her. What are the odds, she thought, that the very soldier who found my shoe would be here now? This was the second time she had found herself facing the Army with her back against the proverbial wall. At that moment, she would have sworn the universe was out to get her.
“Go away!” she hissed at the soldier, who had inched forward and was standing uncomfortably close to her now. “Can’t you just leave us alone? Do you have to destroy everything you touch? Leave us alone!”
She would have gladly gone on, given how mad she was, but she was cut off by sounds of splashing ahead. The soldier whipped around, training his flashlight on the opening of the culvert just as her parents came into view.
******************************************************
0100 hours
Eagle Rock Military Base
Yvonne White plopped what seemed like the two hundredth box of supplies down on the table and sighed. She had been cleaning rooms and unpacking a dizzying array of supplies all day, and she was exhausted. Not to mention confused, worried, furious, and a few other adjectives that probably didn’t bear repeating in polite company.
Not that she had any company. The only people she had seen so far were guards, and though there were certainly plenty of those, she could hardly refer to them as ‘company’. Her new world consisted of one main hallway with several shorter hallways branching off, all sporting rooms that looked as though they hadn’t been touched in years. She’d been able to discern only three major pieces of information so far: Wherever she was had once been a medical facility judging from the operating rooms and labs, it was likely a basement because none of the rooms had windows, and the only way out was through a set of heavily guarded double doors at one end of the long main hall, from which she had been firmly shooed away every single time she had attempted to approach them.
She had been shown to her new quarters this morning, marched out of the room in which she had been locked and down the hall to a more spacious room with an attached bath that she would have coveted under different circumstances. The room was actually furnished with real furniture: A bed, dresser, wardrobe, desk, easy chair, a small table, and various lamps. Her luggage was there as promised by Captain Cavitt, along with a large assortment of personal products such as soap, shampoo, and bubble bath. A note on the dresser instructed her to write down anything she needed, and it would be acquired for her and delivered directly to her room. A second note inquired as to her favorite foods so that the kitchen could be sure to have them in stock.
How about some answers? Yvonne had thought irritably when she had read that. How about some freedom? If Cavitt thought that creating this hotel room complete with a concierge would cancel out kidnapping and blackmail, he was crazy.
Still, she had been curious as to the limits of her new existence, so she had left a note that the brand of toothpaste in the bathroom was unacceptable, along with her preferred brand, and that the sheets on the bed were too rough. Both of these were astonishing announcements from anyone in this man’s army; nevertheless, she had returned to her room shortly before lunch to find that new sheets and the required brand of toothpaste had mysteriously appeared.
Lunch had been delivered to her quarters on a tray, making her wonder where the “kitchen” mentioned in the note was located. After lunch had come the delivery of several pieces of equipment, some medical—x-ray machines, operating room equipment, laboratory supplies—and some not. There were sheets, towels, laundry supplies, even a huge stock of stationery complete with pens and pencils. More of the same arrived after dinner. Whatever was going on here, the place was being prepared for long term occupation of some sort. But what sort? Had they found the aliens? From what she’d seen, Yvonne doubted they could be captured alive. Perhaps it was a highly prized prisoner, such as a German or a Russian? Perhaps a highly placed government official was ill and wished it kept secret?
Yvonne finished emptying the last box of supplies into a cabinet, closed the door, and leaned her head against it. Time for bed. Cavitt had been very insistent that everything had to be unpacked and ready to go as soon as possible, although she had certainly seen no reason for the rush. Walking out into the main hallway, she headed for her room. She had memorized the layout of the place, and she meant to scribble a map before she went to sleep. Tomorrow she would start paying attention to where guards were posted and when their shifts changed. Tomorrow, when she could see straight.
As Yvonne trudged back to her room, a commotion at the far end of the hall made her look up. The guarded double doors had burst open, and several excited people spilled through, pushing a stretcher which was rocketed down the hall and around a corner into a short side hallway. If she remembered rightly, the only thing down that particular hallway was an old operating room.
Yvonne’s heart pounded as she reached the junction of the side and main hallways. A crowd of people was milling around outside the operating room, but she paid no attention; her eyes were focused on the double doors at the end of the main hallway, which, in all the excitement, stood wide open. Walk—don’t run, she told herself severely. She started to walk down the hall, eyes forward, forcing herself to move at a leisurely pace. Soldiers were rushing by, talking in excited tones, oblivious to her bearing down on them. If she moved fast, she might be able to scoot through the doors just long enough to see something, anything, that might tell her where she was.
Forty feet. Thirty. Twenty. Ten. The doors were still wide open, people were still streaming through, and now she was close enough to see. Unfortunately, what she could see was not helpful; just another nondescript stairway. But what she could hear was far more exciting; voices were floating down from the top of the stairway. One of the voices called for a jeep, and another voice noted there was one just outside.
Somewhere near the top of that staircase was the outside world.
A figure detached itself from the throng coming through the doors, blocking her path. Annoyed, Yvonne didn’t look up, but merely tried to step around whoever it was. Until they grabbed her arm.
“Ah, Lieutenant,” said a familiar voice. “What excellent timing. I was just about to send for you.”
Damn! Yvonne looked up into Cavitt’s triumphant face. At first she thought his expression was the result of foiling her attempt to reach an open door, but the look of pure joy he wore was out of proportion to such small potatoes. Cavitt looked positively transported, like a kid on Christmas. Still holding her arm, he steered her back down the main hallway— “No!”—down the side hallway, and into the room where the stretcher had been taken, barking, “Shut that door!” over his shoulder as they crossed the threshold.
“I’m delighted to see you have everything in such tip top shape, Lieutenant,” Cavitt was purring in her ear. “And now, I’d like to introduce you to your new project. Just look what I have for you!”
He ushered her through the crowd of staring people, which parted as they advanced. As the last of them moved aside, Yvonne’s hand went to her mouth, and a hush descended over the room.
“I got you a live one,” Cavitt was saying with enormous satisfaction, as though presenting her with an especially rare pet. “Would you just look at that? Isn’t it hideous?”
Yvonne felt herself trembling all over. The all-too-familiar gray figure was curled in a fetal position, apparently unconscious, blessedly unaware of what Cavitt was hissing in her ear.
“Surely now you can understand why all of this….” he indicated the room with an airy wave “....had to be undertaken with the utmost secrecy. No one can know it’s here but a select, chosen few. And you, Lieutenant, are one my most select. You will have the unique opportunity to personally participate in the world’s first ever experiments on an extra-terrestrial life form. You should feel exceptionally fortunate; only a handful of people on this planet will be able to say that.”
Her hand still pressed to her mouth, Yvonne moved her other hand to her stomach. Dinner had been hours ago, but whatever was left was now threatening to come up the way it had gone down.
“We’ll have to be careful not to kill it,” Cavitt was saying thoughtfully. “You remember what happened to the dead ones, I’m sure. We can’t let that happen this time, at least not too soon. Not until we’re finished with it.”
Cavitt swiveled his head around to look at her. “Well, Lieutenant? Say something!”
Yvonne looked back and forth from the figure on the stretcher to Cavitt’s exuberant face. Everyone was silent, staring, waiting for some kind of proclamation from her as to how pleased she was to have been chosen for this ‘unique opportunity’.
She gave them one. Bending over, Yvonne was sick all over Captain Cavitt’s shiny black shoes.
******************************************************
Warner’s Creek
David Proctor skidded to a halt in the opening of the culvert, his wife at his elbow, the beams of their flashlights dancing in front of them. He felt Emily stiffen even though they weren’t touching, and he could see why. Straight ahead was their current worst nightmare.
Dee was standing about twenty feet ahead, holding her flashlight in front of her like a weapon, clearly frightened but standing her ground. The beam of her flashlight was aimed squarely at the face of the soldier who stood halfway between them and their daughter, blocking the light with his hand. And visible beyond Dee, even in the glare of all the various flashlights, were two glowing lumps, pulsing cheerfully in the darkness like neon signs on a lonely highway at night. Emily’s sharp intake of breath told him that she had seen them too. And if they could see them, surely the soldier could see them. They’d be hard to miss.
“Lower your light,” David called firmly to Dee, remembering at the last minute not to use her name. Never give away any information unnecessarily. That was rule number one in situations like this.
Dee didn’t move.
“You’re frightening him more by blinding him,” David said, keeping his voice calm and reasonable. “Remember what I told you about frightened people?”
There was a moment’s hesitation, then Dee slowly dropped her light a few inches.
The soldier blinked, swinging his light swiftly from them to Dee and back again, clearly taken aback by their arrival. He never looked toward the sacs, but he must have seen them. He was young, wore Private’s stripes, and was alarmed enough to have raised his hand to his gun. It was as yet unholstered, but that was a mere technicality.
“Okay, everyone,” David said in the most neutral voice he could muster. “Let’s not lose our heads.”
“Who are you?” the soldier demanded. “Why are you here?”
“We’re her folks,” David answered, indicating Dee. “We’ve been looking for her.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“We got separated,” David said carefully.
“You expect me to believe you take family strolls in the middle of the night?”
“Believe what you like. Incidentally, what are you doing out here at this hour?”
“I’m asking the questions here, Mister!”
“No, actually you’re not,” Emily broke in.
Her voice startled the soldier, who swung his light around as though he hadn’t yet registered she was there. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not police, Private,” Emily said firmly. “And this is public property. There’s no law against walking on public property at any hour.”
The soldier raised an eyebrow, hesitated, then apparently decided to try a different approach.
“I found your kid’s sneaker on Monday, right where she lost it.”
“My daughter hasn’t lost a sneaker,” David answered.
“She did on Monday,” the soldier said, giving David an appraising stare. “And you know where I found it.”
“I do?”
“You were up there, weren’t you?”
“Up where?”
“You know where. And so do I!”
“If you know, then why are you asking?”
“You were on the ship, weren’t you?”
“What ship?”
“Enough!” the soldier barked, making them all jump. His hand closed more firmly on his gun.
“I agree,” Emily said in exasperation, taking a step toward the soldier; he looked wary, but didn’t back up. “Look, we don’t have a lot of time. We saw the lights up there; we know you have more people with you. If we’re going to save them, we have to move now.”
“Save what?” the soldier asked suspiciously.
“Save those,” Emily said, pointing her light squarely at the alien sacs.
July 11, 1947, 12:50 a.m.
Warner’s Creek, south of Eagle Rock Military Base
“Stay up here and let us know if you see anyone coming,” David Proctor said to his daughter, as he and his wife clambered down the bank to the culvert that supported the bridge over this part of Warner’s Creek. “Just take a stick, or a stone, and throw it into the culvert. We’ll hear it. And don’t turn on your flashlight unless you absolutely have to.”
Dee nodded, and watched as her parents entered the near end of the culvert. On the way here they had consulted the map in the glove compartment of their car and identified three bridges they were pretty sure were near weeping willows. This was the first one on the list. The other two lay ahead, the second one relatively close, the third a good ways further off. The crescent moon gave off a fair amount of light as she looked west to where the third bridge lay, wishing her parents would hurry up. Then she saw something that nearly made her stop breathing.
Lights had appeared in the direction of the third bridge, tiny pinpoints that looked like fireflies from this distance. But unless she was seeing the world’s first ever firefly marching band, these lights were way too organized to be anything other than flashlights. Flashlights likely held by soldiers who were likely looking for the same thing she was.
Dee held her breath as the lights reached the third bridge, and some descended into the creek bed. She strained her ears to hear commotion, any shouts of alarm. But the night was silent while the lights continued to mill around in semi-organized fashion. They hadn’t found them. And that meant that unless her father had completely misinterpreted what Jaddo had shown him, the sacs had to be in one of the first two culverts—the one her parents were in now, or the one in the middle.
Dee looked impatiently down at the culvert. She couldn’t see her parents, or hear anything other than vague scuffling sounds from below. Her father had said the sacs were out in the open, glowing for all to see. If they were in this culvert, they might be able to get them out in time, or at least hide them until the Army had passed. But if they were in the second one…
Hurry up! Dee thought frantically. The tiny lights were still milling around far away, probably searching not just the culvert but the entire creek bed. She and her parents knew the sacs were in a culvert, so they had an advantage, but if her parents took too long, that advantage would be useless.
In the distance, a tiny light detached itself from the throng and started moving slowly down the creek toward the second bridge. Alarmed, Dee looked back and forth from the solitary light to the culvert her parents were searching. She could tell them, but they couldn’t just hop in the car and drive up to the second bridge; even with their lights off, the car would be heard.
“We will not have another chance to do this. So many have died; we cannot afford to lose even one more unnecessarily. There have been too many mishaps. Too many mistakes.”
The lone light was moving east slowly, but steadily. Dee tucked her flashlight into her pocket and took off at a run, knowing that she was closer to the second bridge than the bearer of that light, and determined this would not turn into yet another mistake.
******************************************************
Proctor residence
Soft footsteps roamed the empty rooms of the Proctor household. Silently they moved from the kitchen, to the back porch, to the living room. They ascended the front stairs, pausing only for a moment when the eighth step creaked, as it always did.
At the top of the stairs, the footsteps paused, listening. Gravitating toward the first bedroom on the right, they stood in the doorway for just a moment before moving into the room, to the other side of the bed, where a figure lay on the floor, absolutely still in the pale moonlight.
The owner of the footsteps, a mere shadow in the dark bedroom, knelt beside the figure on the floor, examining it carefully. Instruments were produced; the shadow hovered over the prone figure for several minutes, but the figure never moved.
At length the shadow rose, and the footsteps padded softly back downstairs, leaving no trace they had ever been there at all.
******************************************************
Warner’s Creek
“See anything?” David Proctor called to his wife, the water up to his ankles as he sifted through the debris inside the culvert, most of which was rocks and dirt and a few stray leaves.
“Nothing on this side,” Emily called, having worked her way to the other end. “If they’re here, they’re well hidden.”
“Let’s move to the next one then,” David said, heading out the end of the culvert, with his wife following.
They clambered up the bank, arms swinging, shoes squishing. When they reached the top, both heads swiveled first in one direction, then another.
“Do you think she went to the car?” Emily asked, in an I-just-knew-something-like-this-was-going-to-happen tone of voice.
David shook his head. “No way.” Then he noticed the pinpoints of light to the west, and one single light approaching the second bridge over the creek.
“Emily,” David said quickly, “get in the car. Now!”
******************************************************
Dee slipped and slid down the relatively short bank into the creek. She’d lost sight of the solitary light about two thirds of the way here, which hopefully meant that whoever was wielding it had given up pursuit. Even if they hadn’t, she’d been moving far faster than the light bearer, so she should have at least a few minutes to make some decisions if decisions proved necessary.
She reached the end of the culvert and peered cautiously inside. Once glance told her what she needed to know. Unfortunately, one glance would tell anyone what they needed to know.
The sacs were halfway down the culvert, lying on rocks which kept them out of the water. Or likely had kept them out of the water initially. One of the sacs had slipped partway off the rock into the chilly water, and Dee thought worriedly about the special box in which they had been placed on the ship. Probably to keep them warm, she thought. That sac halfway in the water would be anything but warm.
Dee splashed through the creek water, partly soaking herself in the process, until she reached them. They weren’t glowing as brightly as she remembered, but in the darkness of the culvert, they might just as well have been lighthouses. With difficulty, she heaved the slipping sac out of the water, grabbing the leathery skin and pulling, grunting with the effort. God, that thing was heavy.
When she finally had most of it out of the water, she started looking around for something to cover them with. Nothing suitable was at hand. Maybe some tree branches? Would that be enough to hide two big, glowing things from nosy soldiers? Probably not, but she would have to try. She headed back for the opening of the culvert. Halfway there, a noise made her look up. A bird flew across the end of the culvert, and her heart leapt with hope. Was that Jaddo? Had he recovered enough to come and help them?
But the noise was coming from above her head; footsteps. Someone was walking over the culvert, and before she could process this fact, choose a course of action, or even simply panic, skidding noises could be heard, and a lone figure holding a flashlight came into view at the end of the culvert. It stood silhouetted against the summer night sky for just a moment before swinging its flashlight inside the culvert.
Swiftly, Dee whipped out her flashlight and trained it on the figure, blinding it just as its flashlight blinded her.
“Who are you?” barked a male voice. “Get that light out of my eyes!”
Definitely not Jaddo. “Not until you get your light out of my eyes,” Dee retorted.
More footsteps. The figure was coming closer. Dee couldn’t retreat because the sacs were behind her, so she moved forward instead, holding her flashlight as steady as she could given the fact that her hands were trembling badly. She was still blinded by the other light, so she couldn’t see who was coming, but as long as whoever he was blinded by her light, she hoped he wouldn’t be able to see the sacs. And the further she was from the sacs when she had to stop, the better.
The footsteps stopped about ten feet in front of her. The glare from the light was almost unbearable; she had to squint fiercely to see anything at all. He was close enough now that she could see bits of the uniform, and her heart sank. She was too late.
The light dipped a little. For a moment, Dee saw the face of the soldier. He looked familiar.
“Red sneakers,” he whispered. “We found a red sneaker. And someone said they saw a little girl.” The light returned to her face. “You were on the ship, weren’t you?”
And suddenly Dee realized why this soldier looked familiar. He was the one she had seen squatting outside the room where she’d pulled Urza, holding the red sneaker she had left outside to mark the door.
Anger boiled over in her. What are the odds, she thought, that the very soldier who found my shoe would be here now? This was the second time she had found herself facing the Army with her back against the proverbial wall. At that moment, she would have sworn the universe was out to get her.
“Go away!” she hissed at the soldier, who had inched forward and was standing uncomfortably close to her now. “Can’t you just leave us alone? Do you have to destroy everything you touch? Leave us alone!”
She would have gladly gone on, given how mad she was, but she was cut off by sounds of splashing ahead. The soldier whipped around, training his flashlight on the opening of the culvert just as her parents came into view.
******************************************************
0100 hours
Eagle Rock Military Base
Yvonne White plopped what seemed like the two hundredth box of supplies down on the table and sighed. She had been cleaning rooms and unpacking a dizzying array of supplies all day, and she was exhausted. Not to mention confused, worried, furious, and a few other adjectives that probably didn’t bear repeating in polite company.
Not that she had any company. The only people she had seen so far were guards, and though there were certainly plenty of those, she could hardly refer to them as ‘company’. Her new world consisted of one main hallway with several shorter hallways branching off, all sporting rooms that looked as though they hadn’t been touched in years. She’d been able to discern only three major pieces of information so far: Wherever she was had once been a medical facility judging from the operating rooms and labs, it was likely a basement because none of the rooms had windows, and the only way out was through a set of heavily guarded double doors at one end of the long main hall, from which she had been firmly shooed away every single time she had attempted to approach them.
She had been shown to her new quarters this morning, marched out of the room in which she had been locked and down the hall to a more spacious room with an attached bath that she would have coveted under different circumstances. The room was actually furnished with real furniture: A bed, dresser, wardrobe, desk, easy chair, a small table, and various lamps. Her luggage was there as promised by Captain Cavitt, along with a large assortment of personal products such as soap, shampoo, and bubble bath. A note on the dresser instructed her to write down anything she needed, and it would be acquired for her and delivered directly to her room. A second note inquired as to her favorite foods so that the kitchen could be sure to have them in stock.
How about some answers? Yvonne had thought irritably when she had read that. How about some freedom? If Cavitt thought that creating this hotel room complete with a concierge would cancel out kidnapping and blackmail, he was crazy.
Still, she had been curious as to the limits of her new existence, so she had left a note that the brand of toothpaste in the bathroom was unacceptable, along with her preferred brand, and that the sheets on the bed were too rough. Both of these were astonishing announcements from anyone in this man’s army; nevertheless, she had returned to her room shortly before lunch to find that new sheets and the required brand of toothpaste had mysteriously appeared.
Lunch had been delivered to her quarters on a tray, making her wonder where the “kitchen” mentioned in the note was located. After lunch had come the delivery of several pieces of equipment, some medical—x-ray machines, operating room equipment, laboratory supplies—and some not. There were sheets, towels, laundry supplies, even a huge stock of stationery complete with pens and pencils. More of the same arrived after dinner. Whatever was going on here, the place was being prepared for long term occupation of some sort. But what sort? Had they found the aliens? From what she’d seen, Yvonne doubted they could be captured alive. Perhaps it was a highly prized prisoner, such as a German or a Russian? Perhaps a highly placed government official was ill and wished it kept secret?
Yvonne finished emptying the last box of supplies into a cabinet, closed the door, and leaned her head against it. Time for bed. Cavitt had been very insistent that everything had to be unpacked and ready to go as soon as possible, although she had certainly seen no reason for the rush. Walking out into the main hallway, she headed for her room. She had memorized the layout of the place, and she meant to scribble a map before she went to sleep. Tomorrow she would start paying attention to where guards were posted and when their shifts changed. Tomorrow, when she could see straight.
As Yvonne trudged back to her room, a commotion at the far end of the hall made her look up. The guarded double doors had burst open, and several excited people spilled through, pushing a stretcher which was rocketed down the hall and around a corner into a short side hallway. If she remembered rightly, the only thing down that particular hallway was an old operating room.
Yvonne’s heart pounded as she reached the junction of the side and main hallways. A crowd of people was milling around outside the operating room, but she paid no attention; her eyes were focused on the double doors at the end of the main hallway, which, in all the excitement, stood wide open. Walk—don’t run, she told herself severely. She started to walk down the hall, eyes forward, forcing herself to move at a leisurely pace. Soldiers were rushing by, talking in excited tones, oblivious to her bearing down on them. If she moved fast, she might be able to scoot through the doors just long enough to see something, anything, that might tell her where she was.
Forty feet. Thirty. Twenty. Ten. The doors were still wide open, people were still streaming through, and now she was close enough to see. Unfortunately, what she could see was not helpful; just another nondescript stairway. But what she could hear was far more exciting; voices were floating down from the top of the stairway. One of the voices called for a jeep, and another voice noted there was one just outside.
Somewhere near the top of that staircase was the outside world.
A figure detached itself from the throng coming through the doors, blocking her path. Annoyed, Yvonne didn’t look up, but merely tried to step around whoever it was. Until they grabbed her arm.
“Ah, Lieutenant,” said a familiar voice. “What excellent timing. I was just about to send for you.”
Damn! Yvonne looked up into Cavitt’s triumphant face. At first she thought his expression was the result of foiling her attempt to reach an open door, but the look of pure joy he wore was out of proportion to such small potatoes. Cavitt looked positively transported, like a kid on Christmas. Still holding her arm, he steered her back down the main hallway— “No!”—down the side hallway, and into the room where the stretcher had been taken, barking, “Shut that door!” over his shoulder as they crossed the threshold.
“I’m delighted to see you have everything in such tip top shape, Lieutenant,” Cavitt was purring in her ear. “And now, I’d like to introduce you to your new project. Just look what I have for you!”
He ushered her through the crowd of staring people, which parted as they advanced. As the last of them moved aside, Yvonne’s hand went to her mouth, and a hush descended over the room.
“I got you a live one,” Cavitt was saying with enormous satisfaction, as though presenting her with an especially rare pet. “Would you just look at that? Isn’t it hideous?”
Yvonne felt herself trembling all over. The all-too-familiar gray figure was curled in a fetal position, apparently unconscious, blessedly unaware of what Cavitt was hissing in her ear.
“Surely now you can understand why all of this….” he indicated the room with an airy wave “....had to be undertaken with the utmost secrecy. No one can know it’s here but a select, chosen few. And you, Lieutenant, are one my most select. You will have the unique opportunity to personally participate in the world’s first ever experiments on an extra-terrestrial life form. You should feel exceptionally fortunate; only a handful of people on this planet will be able to say that.”
Her hand still pressed to her mouth, Yvonne moved her other hand to her stomach. Dinner had been hours ago, but whatever was left was now threatening to come up the way it had gone down.
“We’ll have to be careful not to kill it,” Cavitt was saying thoughtfully. “You remember what happened to the dead ones, I’m sure. We can’t let that happen this time, at least not too soon. Not until we’re finished with it.”
Cavitt swiveled his head around to look at her. “Well, Lieutenant? Say something!”
Yvonne looked back and forth from the figure on the stretcher to Cavitt’s exuberant face. Everyone was silent, staring, waiting for some kind of proclamation from her as to how pleased she was to have been chosen for this ‘unique opportunity’.
She gave them one. Bending over, Yvonne was sick all over Captain Cavitt’s shiny black shoes.
******************************************************
Warner’s Creek
David Proctor skidded to a halt in the opening of the culvert, his wife at his elbow, the beams of their flashlights dancing in front of them. He felt Emily stiffen even though they weren’t touching, and he could see why. Straight ahead was their current worst nightmare.
Dee was standing about twenty feet ahead, holding her flashlight in front of her like a weapon, clearly frightened but standing her ground. The beam of her flashlight was aimed squarely at the face of the soldier who stood halfway between them and their daughter, blocking the light with his hand. And visible beyond Dee, even in the glare of all the various flashlights, were two glowing lumps, pulsing cheerfully in the darkness like neon signs on a lonely highway at night. Emily’s sharp intake of breath told him that she had seen them too. And if they could see them, surely the soldier could see them. They’d be hard to miss.
“Lower your light,” David called firmly to Dee, remembering at the last minute not to use her name. Never give away any information unnecessarily. That was rule number one in situations like this.
Dee didn’t move.
“You’re frightening him more by blinding him,” David said, keeping his voice calm and reasonable. “Remember what I told you about frightened people?”
There was a moment’s hesitation, then Dee slowly dropped her light a few inches.
The soldier blinked, swinging his light swiftly from them to Dee and back again, clearly taken aback by their arrival. He never looked toward the sacs, but he must have seen them. He was young, wore Private’s stripes, and was alarmed enough to have raised his hand to his gun. It was as yet unholstered, but that was a mere technicality.
“Okay, everyone,” David said in the most neutral voice he could muster. “Let’s not lose our heads.”
“Who are you?” the soldier demanded. “Why are you here?”
“We’re her folks,” David answered, indicating Dee. “We’ve been looking for her.”
“In the middle of the night?”
“We got separated,” David said carefully.
“You expect me to believe you take family strolls in the middle of the night?”
“Believe what you like. Incidentally, what are you doing out here at this hour?”
“I’m asking the questions here, Mister!”
“No, actually you’re not,” Emily broke in.
Her voice startled the soldier, who swung his light around as though he hadn’t yet registered she was there. “Excuse me?”
“You’re not police, Private,” Emily said firmly. “And this is public property. There’s no law against walking on public property at any hour.”
The soldier raised an eyebrow, hesitated, then apparently decided to try a different approach.
“I found your kid’s sneaker on Monday, right where she lost it.”
“My daughter hasn’t lost a sneaker,” David answered.
“She did on Monday,” the soldier said, giving David an appraising stare. “And you know where I found it.”
“I do?”
“You were up there, weren’t you?”
“Up where?”
“You know where. And so do I!”
“If you know, then why are you asking?”
“You were on the ship, weren’t you?”
“What ship?”
“Enough!” the soldier barked, making them all jump. His hand closed more firmly on his gun.
“I agree,” Emily said in exasperation, taking a step toward the soldier; he looked wary, but didn’t back up. “Look, we don’t have a lot of time. We saw the lights up there; we know you have more people with you. If we’re going to save them, we have to move now.”
“Save what?” the soldier asked suspiciously.
“Save those,” Emily said, pointing her light squarely at the alien sacs.
PART SIXTY-EIGHT
July 11, 1947, 1:10 a.m.
Warner’s Creek, Roswell
Emily held her flashlight directly on the alien sacs, although they certainly needed no light to illuminate them. Dee had gasped with dismay; David held his breath. He had been hoping that if they ignored the sacs, the soldier might believe the three of them didn’t know a thing, and let them go. The sacs would still be lost, but at this point, they were lost anyway.
The soldier’s eyes were flicking rapidly from one face to the other, his hand still on his weapon, Emily’s unexpected bluntness having apparently left him nonplussed. She waited for just a moment before trying again.
“Please don’t waste our time by pretending you don’t see them,” Emily said severely. “We know you’re not blind. I repeat—our time is running out. We need to get those out of here.”
“And do what with them?” the soldier asked warily.
“Return them to their rightful owners,” David replied evenly. “What do you intend to do with them?”
The soldier’s eyes narrowed. The beam of his flashlight moved from one face to another, finally coming to rest on Dee.
“What species are you?” he demanded.
“I…what?” Dee spluttered.
“Are you human?”
“Of course I’m human!” Dee answered angrily. “What else would I be?” She paused, her eyes widening. “You thought I was one of them, didn’t you?”
“You’re the right size,” the soldier said softly. “When I first looked down here, I thought…” He broke off and was silent for a moment before moving the flashlight to David’s face.
“Human,” David answered, before the soldier could ask. “We’re all human.”
The soldier considered this in silence for a moment before swinging his light back to Dee. “You were on the ship when we found it, weren’t you?”
Dee shot a look toward her parents. David saw Emily give a small nod.
“Yes,” Dee answered, “I was on the ship.”
“Why?” the soldier demanded.
“I was helping them. Trying to help them,” she amended darkly.
“And that’s what we’re doing now,” David pointed out. “We’re just trying to help out some people who need a hand.”
For a long moment the soldier did nothing, just stood there and looked at all of them with an inscrutable expression on his face. Then he abruptly lowered his flashlight and removed his hand from his gun.
“Good. I would have had a bitch of a time trying to cover up those things.”
David blinked. He and Emily exchanged glances.
“Okay, here’s how it works,” the soldier said briskly. His manner was relaxed now, his tone all business. “I’ve got about thirty men west of this position—you said you saw them. I need to get back to them soon, or they’ll come looking for me. I’ll tell them I didn’t see anything down here, but you’re still going to have to be careful. Did you come in a car?”
Emily nodded, her eyebrows nearly level with her hairline.
“You’ll have to get those things into your car without being seen or heard,” the soldier continued. “Don’t use your flashlights; make as little noise as possible. Make sure you don’t turn on your headlights until you reach a main road. I’ll keep’em busy over there as long as I can, but eventually someone’s going to wander over this way. I can guarantee you fifteen minutes, maybe twenty. After that, all bets are off. If they find you, it’s all over. And,” he added slowly, taking a step toward David, “if they find you, I don’t know you. We never had this conversation. Understood?”
David nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Good.” The soldier nodded toward Emily and Dee. “Ma’am. Miss. Good luck.”
“Wait!” Dee called as he started out of the culvert. “You said I was the right size to be an alien. How do you know what size they are?”
The soldier turned. “I’ve seen them,” he said quietly.
“You did?” Dee said eagerly. “Do you know what happened to the two who…who…I mean, I know they died, but…” She paused, swallowing. “I told him to surrender,” she said, in a voice that threatened to crack. “I told him exactly what to do, and I told him no one would hurt him if he said he surrendered. Didn’t I tell him right?”
The soldier’s eyes widened in shock. “That’s how he knew!” he whispered. “I wondered how he would know something like that, but.....” He stopped, aware that the three of them were openly staring at him. He was now close enough for David to see his name tag: It read, “Spade”.
“You were there? And he did surrender? But then why…” Dee’s voice trailed off, as if she couldn’t bear to finish the thought.
Private Spade was looking distinctly uncomfortable. He focused his gaze on the ground, the ceiling, out the opening of the culvert....anywhere but on the hurt, accusing little face in front of him. He glanced at David, who raised a questioning eyebrow, then at Emily, who nodded, and moved to stand behind her daughter, her hands protectively on her shoulders.
“Tell her the truth,” Emily said.
Spade scratched the back of his head. “Ma’am, I’m not certain that’s such a good idea.”
“The truth, Private,” Emily said firmly. “Please. She may never get another chance to hear it, and she deserves to know.”
“She thinks what happened was her fault,” David added, “that she gave poor instructions. Since you were there, can you shed any light on that?”
Private Spade hesitated a moment; then, nodding reluctantly, he walked back to Dee and knelt down on one knee so he could look her in the eye.
“You didn’t tell him wrong, sweetheart,” he said gently. “You told him just right, and he did it just right. It’s just that…well…a buddy of mine, he got scared. He saw the....”—he paused—“he saw your friend, and just lost his marbles. He…he shot him.”
David saw Emily’s hands tighten on Dee’s shoulders as Dee struggled valiantly not to cry. Poor Valeris. Shot at point blank range. He hadn’t stood a chance.
“We think he died pretty much right away,” Spade continued, staring at Dee’s feet now. “My friend felt real bad about it. He knew he shouldn’t have done it, but by the time he calmed down, it was too late.”
A single tear trickled down Dee’s cheek; she wiped her face with the back of her sleeve as she slowly lost the battle with her emotions. Behind her, Emily shot David an anguished look. She was finding this hard to listen to, and she didn’t even know these people; it must be ten times harder for Dee.
“But I want you to understand something,” Spade went on firmly. “It wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t your friend’s fault either. You did everything right. He did everything right. It’s just that....well......even when we do everything right…sometimes things just don’t work out right anyway.”
“And what about the other one?” Dee asked in a shaky voice.
“The other one lived for awhile. He got to stay with a really pretty nurse who played the radio for him all day, and made sure no one bothered him until he’d….passed away.”
“What about they one they just caught?” David asked.
Spade jerked his head up. “How do you know about that?” he demanded.
“The same way I knew where to look for those,” David replied, nodding toward the cheerfully glowing sacs.
Spade rose and moved to stand face to face with David, his back towards Emily and Dee. “Tell the other one something for me,” he whispered tensely. “Don’t come back. They’ll be waiting for him, just like they were tonight.”
David watched him impassively; offering any reaction would be tantamount to admitting he knew where the “other one” was. Spade waited a moment, and then nodded approvingly .
“You’re Army, right?”
“I was.”
“Rank?”
“Captain.”
Spade pulled his right hand into a salute. “Good luck, sir.”
“I’m not in the Army anymore, Private,” David pointed out.
“No. But it’s been several days since I’ve found someone I felt was worth saluting.”
Spade turned and walked out of the culvert, creating waves as he splashed through the ankle deep water. No one said anything for a long time. Emily was silent, staring into space; Dee looked positively stricken.
Finally David broke the silence. “We should get going,” he said gently. “Let’s not let this turn into yet another sad story.”
******************************************************
Deputy Valenti peered through his binoculars, hands shaking with excitement. This was it! He would have given a whoop of joy if it had been safe to do so. He couldn’t wait to see the expression on George Wilcox’s face, or on everyone’s face, for that matter, when he personally hauled in whatever it was the Proctor family was hauling out right this very minute.
Valenti had followed them up here to Warner’s Creek, driving with his lights off, carefully keeping his distance. They had disappeared down into the creek bed near one of the bridges, only to reappear and drive further west toward the next bridge. Proctor had kept his headlights off for that second trip, which had piqued Valenti’s interest. Then he had seen the lights bobbing in the distance and realized he was on the right track. The Army was also here.
Crouched in the bushes, Valenti kept his eyes glued to the binoculars. Not five minutes ago he had observed a soldier climb out of the creek bed and head west, toward the rest of the bobbing lights. A few minutes later, dark figures emerged from the creek bed, heaving something between them. Whatever it was appeared to be covered, but a corner of it flashed for just a moment, pulsing and glowing. He knew what that was. He’d seen one of those things in the back of the truck at the crash site four days ago. As he watched, the bundle was settled into the trunk of their car, the trunk was closed, and the dark figures descended into the creek bed once more. There must be more to retrieve.
Valenti tucked his binoculars away, pulled out his flashlight, and headed back toward his car, careful to keep the light pointed at the ground. It was time to introduce himself to the Proctors once again. He’d head out for the main road with his lights off and wait for the them to go by. Then he’d pull them over and settle this business once and for all. Perhaps when he caught them red handed, they’d be a little more forthcoming about what the hell was going on.
Up ahead his car loomed, a dark blot against the night. He was about ten feet away when the headlights flared, blinding him, then winked out.
Valenti stopped cold in his tracks. What the hell?
“Who’s in there?” he called warily.
As if in answer, the headlights blinked again.
Valenti whipped his gun out. “I’m armed,” he called to whoever was in the car, stepping sideways in case the headlights were to flare again. “Step out with your hands in the air!”
No answer. The car sat dark and still, deserted looking.
“I said, step out of the car!” Valenti said severely. “I’m armed. Don’t fool with me!”
Silence. Valenti slowly approached the driver’s side of his car, both gun and flashlight raised. When he was close enough to see inside, he stopped in confusion.
There was no one there.
Valenti’s eyes darted sideways. He saw nothing, heard nothing; all the doors were closed. Shining his flashlight further into the car, he could see nothing, neither on the passenger’s side nor in the back seat. His keys were still in the ignition, right where he’d left them.
After walking carefully around the car without finding anything amiss, Valenti began to relax a little. Maybe it was just some freak electrical thing. His mind was still on the Proctors; if he didn’t hurry up, they’d be gone, and if they managed to get whatever it was they had into their house, he’d need a search warrant. He climbed carefully into the driver’s seat and looked around once more. Nothing. Relaxing a bit more, he reholstered his gun, placed his flashlight on the passenger’s seat, and reached for the keys.
His keys were gone.
Shit! What the hell was going on here? The keys had been there only seconds before! A thorough search of the seats and floor proved fruitless. Valenti grabbed his flashlight and climbed out of the car, searching the ground nearby, and then in ever-widening circles. Still no keys.
Swearing loudly, Valenti looked back and forth from his car to the direction in which the bridge lay. He could probably make it to the bridge before the Proctors left. He took off at a run, every nerve in his body jangling. This was getting downright creepy.
But not half so creepy as things became about fifteen yards from his car. Valenti skidded to a halt, his trembling hand making the flashlight bream shake. Standing in front of him like a sentinel was a coyote, teeth bared. As he gaped at it, a low growl rose from its throat.
Valenti’s own throat went dry. Out here there would be no one to hear him scream. Except the Proctors, of course, and somehow he doubted they’d care. Moving slowly, he reached for his gun. He didn’t want to use it unless he had to. The sound of a gunshot would give away his position and draw the Army this way immediately; if they got to the Proctors first, he’d never find out what was going on. But Army or no Army, if he had to, that thing was going to coyote heaven.
His gun was gone.
Oh, no…NO! Valenti pawed frantically at his empty holster for several seconds before giving up. The coyote hadn’t moved.
Man and beast stared each other down for one very long minute before Valenti began to slowly back up. The coyote moved with him, still growling, still displaying an impressive set of teeth, but still keeping its distance, and Valenti got the uncomfortable impression he was being.....herded. Were there more of them? A glance backward answered that question—there was nothing between him and his car.
Sprinting for the car, Valenti reached the driver’s side, and hurled himself inside, expecting at any moment to feel teeth sinking into his leg. He locked all four doors and sat, panting, staring out the windows, watching for the coyote.
There was no sign of it anywhere.
Still breathing hard, Valenti put his head down on the steering wheel. His hands were shaking, his heart pounding. This had to be the weirdest night of his life, not to mention one of man’s closer shaves with coyotes. Searching frantically, he checked the floor, the backseat......everywhere. His gun had been in a holster on his hip, for God’s sake, and now it was nowhere to be found.
“Okay. Calm down, Jim, calm down,” Valenti muttered to himself, his heart beating a wild tattoo inside his chest. “It can’t get you in the car, and you can hotwire this thing. Just drive on out of here and wait for them. Sort this out later.”
Minutes later he had broken open the ignition, clamping the flashlight between his legs as he fumbled for the two relevant wires, touching them together. The engine roared to life. Sighing with relief, Valenti shifted the car into gear.
“Gracious, you’re thick,” a casual voice said from the back seat. “I would have thought you’d have gotten the message by now,”
Thunderstruck, Valenti raised his eyes to the rearview mirror.
And screamed.
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
Corporal Darron yawned as he headed for the latrine. Men’s Room he corrected himself with a smile. Now that they had a lone nurse in the compound, there was an actual Ladies’ Room on the premises, not to be confused with the various Men’s Rooms. Not that I’d mind confusing them, he thought with a grin. That nurse was a real looker. He was currently feeling very sympathetic toward her after watching her toss her cookies all over Captain Cavitt’s spit polished shoes. The sight of that thing Cavitt had captured was enough to make anyone sick.
Taking his glasses off, Darron bent over the sink and splashed cold water on his face. This had been one hell of a long day, and it was only going to get longer; what he really needed was coffee, but for now, cold water would have to do. He heard the door to the men’s room open; footsteps approached, stopping directly behind him.
“Grab another sink,” Darron called when the footsteps didn’t move.
Darron continued splashing. The footsteps still didn’t move.
“I said grab another sink, man,” Darron repeated, water dripping from his nose.
Silence. What, is there something sacred about this sink? he thought impatiently. His eyes squeezed shut, Darron grabbed a paper towel, dried off, and opened his eyes to face the mirror over the sink.
Over his left shoulder, his own face looked back at him.
As his head came down hard on the porcelain sink, the last thought to pass through Corporal Darron’s mind was that he’d had no idea his face was capable of such a nasty smile.
July 11, 1947, 1:10 a.m.
Warner’s Creek, Roswell
Emily held her flashlight directly on the alien sacs, although they certainly needed no light to illuminate them. Dee had gasped with dismay; David held his breath. He had been hoping that if they ignored the sacs, the soldier might believe the three of them didn’t know a thing, and let them go. The sacs would still be lost, but at this point, they were lost anyway.
The soldier’s eyes were flicking rapidly from one face to the other, his hand still on his weapon, Emily’s unexpected bluntness having apparently left him nonplussed. She waited for just a moment before trying again.
“Please don’t waste our time by pretending you don’t see them,” Emily said severely. “We know you’re not blind. I repeat—our time is running out. We need to get those out of here.”
“And do what with them?” the soldier asked warily.
“Return them to their rightful owners,” David replied evenly. “What do you intend to do with them?”
The soldier’s eyes narrowed. The beam of his flashlight moved from one face to another, finally coming to rest on Dee.
“What species are you?” he demanded.
“I…what?” Dee spluttered.
“Are you human?”
“Of course I’m human!” Dee answered angrily. “What else would I be?” She paused, her eyes widening. “You thought I was one of them, didn’t you?”
“You’re the right size,” the soldier said softly. “When I first looked down here, I thought…” He broke off and was silent for a moment before moving the flashlight to David’s face.
“Human,” David answered, before the soldier could ask. “We’re all human.”
The soldier considered this in silence for a moment before swinging his light back to Dee. “You were on the ship when we found it, weren’t you?”
Dee shot a look toward her parents. David saw Emily give a small nod.
“Yes,” Dee answered, “I was on the ship.”
“Why?” the soldier demanded.
“I was helping them. Trying to help them,” she amended darkly.
“And that’s what we’re doing now,” David pointed out. “We’re just trying to help out some people who need a hand.”
For a long moment the soldier did nothing, just stood there and looked at all of them with an inscrutable expression on his face. Then he abruptly lowered his flashlight and removed his hand from his gun.
“Good. I would have had a bitch of a time trying to cover up those things.”
David blinked. He and Emily exchanged glances.
“Okay, here’s how it works,” the soldier said briskly. His manner was relaxed now, his tone all business. “I’ve got about thirty men west of this position—you said you saw them. I need to get back to them soon, or they’ll come looking for me. I’ll tell them I didn’t see anything down here, but you’re still going to have to be careful. Did you come in a car?”
Emily nodded, her eyebrows nearly level with her hairline.
“You’ll have to get those things into your car without being seen or heard,” the soldier continued. “Don’t use your flashlights; make as little noise as possible. Make sure you don’t turn on your headlights until you reach a main road. I’ll keep’em busy over there as long as I can, but eventually someone’s going to wander over this way. I can guarantee you fifteen minutes, maybe twenty. After that, all bets are off. If they find you, it’s all over. And,” he added slowly, taking a step toward David, “if they find you, I don’t know you. We never had this conversation. Understood?”
David nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Good.” The soldier nodded toward Emily and Dee. “Ma’am. Miss. Good luck.”
“Wait!” Dee called as he started out of the culvert. “You said I was the right size to be an alien. How do you know what size they are?”
The soldier turned. “I’ve seen them,” he said quietly.
“You did?” Dee said eagerly. “Do you know what happened to the two who…who…I mean, I know they died, but…” She paused, swallowing. “I told him to surrender,” she said, in a voice that threatened to crack. “I told him exactly what to do, and I told him no one would hurt him if he said he surrendered. Didn’t I tell him right?”
The soldier’s eyes widened in shock. “That’s how he knew!” he whispered. “I wondered how he would know something like that, but.....” He stopped, aware that the three of them were openly staring at him. He was now close enough for David to see his name tag: It read, “Spade”.
“You were there? And he did surrender? But then why…” Dee’s voice trailed off, as if she couldn’t bear to finish the thought.
Private Spade was looking distinctly uncomfortable. He focused his gaze on the ground, the ceiling, out the opening of the culvert....anywhere but on the hurt, accusing little face in front of him. He glanced at David, who raised a questioning eyebrow, then at Emily, who nodded, and moved to stand behind her daughter, her hands protectively on her shoulders.
“Tell her the truth,” Emily said.
Spade scratched the back of his head. “Ma’am, I’m not certain that’s such a good idea.”
“The truth, Private,” Emily said firmly. “Please. She may never get another chance to hear it, and she deserves to know.”
“She thinks what happened was her fault,” David added, “that she gave poor instructions. Since you were there, can you shed any light on that?”
Private Spade hesitated a moment; then, nodding reluctantly, he walked back to Dee and knelt down on one knee so he could look her in the eye.
“You didn’t tell him wrong, sweetheart,” he said gently. “You told him just right, and he did it just right. It’s just that…well…a buddy of mine, he got scared. He saw the....”—he paused—“he saw your friend, and just lost his marbles. He…he shot him.”
David saw Emily’s hands tighten on Dee’s shoulders as Dee struggled valiantly not to cry. Poor Valeris. Shot at point blank range. He hadn’t stood a chance.
“We think he died pretty much right away,” Spade continued, staring at Dee’s feet now. “My friend felt real bad about it. He knew he shouldn’t have done it, but by the time he calmed down, it was too late.”
A single tear trickled down Dee’s cheek; she wiped her face with the back of her sleeve as she slowly lost the battle with her emotions. Behind her, Emily shot David an anguished look. She was finding this hard to listen to, and she didn’t even know these people; it must be ten times harder for Dee.
“But I want you to understand something,” Spade went on firmly. “It wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t your friend’s fault either. You did everything right. He did everything right. It’s just that....well......even when we do everything right…sometimes things just don’t work out right anyway.”
“And what about the other one?” Dee asked in a shaky voice.
“The other one lived for awhile. He got to stay with a really pretty nurse who played the radio for him all day, and made sure no one bothered him until he’d….passed away.”
“What about they one they just caught?” David asked.
Spade jerked his head up. “How do you know about that?” he demanded.
“The same way I knew where to look for those,” David replied, nodding toward the cheerfully glowing sacs.
Spade rose and moved to stand face to face with David, his back towards Emily and Dee. “Tell the other one something for me,” he whispered tensely. “Don’t come back. They’ll be waiting for him, just like they were tonight.”
David watched him impassively; offering any reaction would be tantamount to admitting he knew where the “other one” was. Spade waited a moment, and then nodded approvingly .
“You’re Army, right?”
“I was.”
“Rank?”
“Captain.”
Spade pulled his right hand into a salute. “Good luck, sir.”
“I’m not in the Army anymore, Private,” David pointed out.
“No. But it’s been several days since I’ve found someone I felt was worth saluting.”
Spade turned and walked out of the culvert, creating waves as he splashed through the ankle deep water. No one said anything for a long time. Emily was silent, staring into space; Dee looked positively stricken.
Finally David broke the silence. “We should get going,” he said gently. “Let’s not let this turn into yet another sad story.”
******************************************************
Deputy Valenti peered through his binoculars, hands shaking with excitement. This was it! He would have given a whoop of joy if it had been safe to do so. He couldn’t wait to see the expression on George Wilcox’s face, or on everyone’s face, for that matter, when he personally hauled in whatever it was the Proctor family was hauling out right this very minute.
Valenti had followed them up here to Warner’s Creek, driving with his lights off, carefully keeping his distance. They had disappeared down into the creek bed near one of the bridges, only to reappear and drive further west toward the next bridge. Proctor had kept his headlights off for that second trip, which had piqued Valenti’s interest. Then he had seen the lights bobbing in the distance and realized he was on the right track. The Army was also here.
Crouched in the bushes, Valenti kept his eyes glued to the binoculars. Not five minutes ago he had observed a soldier climb out of the creek bed and head west, toward the rest of the bobbing lights. A few minutes later, dark figures emerged from the creek bed, heaving something between them. Whatever it was appeared to be covered, but a corner of it flashed for just a moment, pulsing and glowing. He knew what that was. He’d seen one of those things in the back of the truck at the crash site four days ago. As he watched, the bundle was settled into the trunk of their car, the trunk was closed, and the dark figures descended into the creek bed once more. There must be more to retrieve.
Valenti tucked his binoculars away, pulled out his flashlight, and headed back toward his car, careful to keep the light pointed at the ground. It was time to introduce himself to the Proctors once again. He’d head out for the main road with his lights off and wait for the them to go by. Then he’d pull them over and settle this business once and for all. Perhaps when he caught them red handed, they’d be a little more forthcoming about what the hell was going on.
Up ahead his car loomed, a dark blot against the night. He was about ten feet away when the headlights flared, blinding him, then winked out.
Valenti stopped cold in his tracks. What the hell?
“Who’s in there?” he called warily.
As if in answer, the headlights blinked again.
Valenti whipped his gun out. “I’m armed,” he called to whoever was in the car, stepping sideways in case the headlights were to flare again. “Step out with your hands in the air!”
No answer. The car sat dark and still, deserted looking.
“I said, step out of the car!” Valenti said severely. “I’m armed. Don’t fool with me!”
Silence. Valenti slowly approached the driver’s side of his car, both gun and flashlight raised. When he was close enough to see inside, he stopped in confusion.
There was no one there.
Valenti’s eyes darted sideways. He saw nothing, heard nothing; all the doors were closed. Shining his flashlight further into the car, he could see nothing, neither on the passenger’s side nor in the back seat. His keys were still in the ignition, right where he’d left them.
After walking carefully around the car without finding anything amiss, Valenti began to relax a little. Maybe it was just some freak electrical thing. His mind was still on the Proctors; if he didn’t hurry up, they’d be gone, and if they managed to get whatever it was they had into their house, he’d need a search warrant. He climbed carefully into the driver’s seat and looked around once more. Nothing. Relaxing a bit more, he reholstered his gun, placed his flashlight on the passenger’s seat, and reached for the keys.
His keys were gone.
Shit! What the hell was going on here? The keys had been there only seconds before! A thorough search of the seats and floor proved fruitless. Valenti grabbed his flashlight and climbed out of the car, searching the ground nearby, and then in ever-widening circles. Still no keys.
Swearing loudly, Valenti looked back and forth from his car to the direction in which the bridge lay. He could probably make it to the bridge before the Proctors left. He took off at a run, every nerve in his body jangling. This was getting downright creepy.
But not half so creepy as things became about fifteen yards from his car. Valenti skidded to a halt, his trembling hand making the flashlight bream shake. Standing in front of him like a sentinel was a coyote, teeth bared. As he gaped at it, a low growl rose from its throat.
Valenti’s own throat went dry. Out here there would be no one to hear him scream. Except the Proctors, of course, and somehow he doubted they’d care. Moving slowly, he reached for his gun. He didn’t want to use it unless he had to. The sound of a gunshot would give away his position and draw the Army this way immediately; if they got to the Proctors first, he’d never find out what was going on. But Army or no Army, if he had to, that thing was going to coyote heaven.
His gun was gone.
Oh, no…NO! Valenti pawed frantically at his empty holster for several seconds before giving up. The coyote hadn’t moved.
Man and beast stared each other down for one very long minute before Valenti began to slowly back up. The coyote moved with him, still growling, still displaying an impressive set of teeth, but still keeping its distance, and Valenti got the uncomfortable impression he was being.....herded. Were there more of them? A glance backward answered that question—there was nothing between him and his car.
Sprinting for the car, Valenti reached the driver’s side, and hurled himself inside, expecting at any moment to feel teeth sinking into his leg. He locked all four doors and sat, panting, staring out the windows, watching for the coyote.
There was no sign of it anywhere.
Still breathing hard, Valenti put his head down on the steering wheel. His hands were shaking, his heart pounding. This had to be the weirdest night of his life, not to mention one of man’s closer shaves with coyotes. Searching frantically, he checked the floor, the backseat......everywhere. His gun had been in a holster on his hip, for God’s sake, and now it was nowhere to be found.
“Okay. Calm down, Jim, calm down,” Valenti muttered to himself, his heart beating a wild tattoo inside his chest. “It can’t get you in the car, and you can hotwire this thing. Just drive on out of here and wait for them. Sort this out later.”
Minutes later he had broken open the ignition, clamping the flashlight between his legs as he fumbled for the two relevant wires, touching them together. The engine roared to life. Sighing with relief, Valenti shifted the car into gear.
“Gracious, you’re thick,” a casual voice said from the back seat. “I would have thought you’d have gotten the message by now,”
Thunderstruck, Valenti raised his eyes to the rearview mirror.
And screamed.
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
Corporal Darron yawned as he headed for the latrine. Men’s Room he corrected himself with a smile. Now that they had a lone nurse in the compound, there was an actual Ladies’ Room on the premises, not to be confused with the various Men’s Rooms. Not that I’d mind confusing them, he thought with a grin. That nurse was a real looker. He was currently feeling very sympathetic toward her after watching her toss her cookies all over Captain Cavitt’s spit polished shoes. The sight of that thing Cavitt had captured was enough to make anyone sick.
Taking his glasses off, Darron bent over the sink and splashed cold water on his face. This had been one hell of a long day, and it was only going to get longer; what he really needed was coffee, but for now, cold water would have to do. He heard the door to the men’s room open; footsteps approached, stopping directly behind him.
“Grab another sink,” Darron called when the footsteps didn’t move.
Darron continued splashing. The footsteps still didn’t move.
“I said grab another sink, man,” Darron repeated, water dripping from his nose.
Silence. What, is there something sacred about this sink? he thought impatiently. His eyes squeezed shut, Darron grabbed a paper towel, dried off, and opened his eyes to face the mirror over the sink.
Over his left shoulder, his own face looked back at him.
As his head came down hard on the porcelain sink, the last thought to pass through Corporal Darron’s mind was that he’d had no idea his face was capable of such a nasty smile.
PART SIXTY-NINE
July 11, 1947, 0135 hours
Eagle Rock Military Base
Yvonne White sat with her head in her hands, elbows resting on the table. Her stomach, though blessedly empty, was still churning violently; she felt she would be sick again any minute. The image of that gray body, drugged and helpless against the taunts and looks of disgust, was impossible to get out of her mind.
The door opened. She heard footsteps walk toward her, and something heavy clink on the table beside her. The delicious odor of fresh coffee wafted her way, and her stomach began to settle in anticipation. She reached for the cup and lifted it with shaking hands.
“I thought that might make you feel better,” a familiar voice said.
Yvonne jerked her head up to see Captain Cavitt. The next instant, she’d hurled the coffee cup across the room. It smashed into the wall, causing a spectacular noise, a spectacular stain, and the appearance of several spectacularly startled MP’s.
Captain Cavitt gave a heavy sigh. “That’s all right, that’s all right,” he said, waving away the soldiers, who wandered back outside the room after giving her looks ranging from dark to sympathetic.
Cavitt closed the door and sat down beside her. Instinctively, Yvonne backed her chair away from him. She had neither seen nor spoken to him since losing her dinner all over his shoes, and she only wished she’d had the foresight to aim higher. Shoes were too easy to clean.
Cavitt sat in silence for several moments before speaking. “I gather, Lieutenant,” he said at length, “that you are angry with me.”
Brilliant, Yvonne thought sarcastically. She kept her eyes fixed on a point on the wall straight ahead. She didn’t want to look at him, to see that triumphant smirk cover his face the way it had when he had first shown her the alien. It was the look of one who enjoyed inflicting pain, who felt he had a right to inflict pain. Yvonne had watched other soldiers go this same route, and the results were never pretty.
“Would it make any difference if I were to tell you that all the other soldiers are here under exactly the same conditions you are? None of them chose this duty; they were assigned. They had no more choice in the matter than you did.”
“Really?” Yvonne said with mock surprise. “I see you’ve been busy then, Captain. Kidnapping all those people must have been quite an undertaking. Did they all wind up with concussions like me, or is that something special you save for female recruits?”
“I apologize once again for the manner in which you arrived here,” Cavitt said in a remarkably calm voice. “I did not intend to ‘kidnap’ you, as you so dramatically put it, but merely to divert you. It was necessary for the rest of the world to think you had been reassigned elsewhere. Those I sent to intercept you were a bit more…aggressive than they needed to be. And, as I have already pointed out, your resistance was more than they expected.”
“They attacked me!” Yvonne said, her voice rising. “They assaulted me! Is that how the other soldiers arrived? With someone’s hands all over their breasts?”
For the first time since Yvonne had met him, Cavitt actually looked shocked. “I didn’t know about that! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“As if you would have cared,” Yvonne said angrily.
“You misjudge me,” Cavitt protested. “I have no intention of tolerating such behavior. The soldiers responsible will be severely punished, I assure you. I apologize for their actions; I do not apologize for the deception involved in bringing you here. You were being reassigned to a covert operation. Absolute secrecy was required. Reassignment is within the Army’s rights, Lieutenant. Surely you knew that when you enlisted.”
“Reassignment is not synonymous with kidnapping,” Yvonne said, struggling to keep her voice level. “But then kidnapping does seem to be your forte lately, regardless of species.”
Cavitt sighed again. He was silent so long this time that Yvonne risked a peek. She was surprised to find no trace of anger or triumph in his expression. His fingers were tented, his eyes staring off into space, deep in thought. She waited.
“Look,” Cavitt said at last, “I know this has been hard on you, and I am truly sorry for that. I have attempted to make it up to each and every one of you by providing you with things you would not normally have. Your quarters, for example, are far larger than would normally be accorded someone of your rank. I meant it when I said you could have anything you wanted. Food, clothing, toiletries, books—simply name it, and I will see it is procured. The same goes for the others. I realize I ask a great deal of you, and I am prepared to give a great deal in return.” He paused. “You did get the toothpaste and sheets you requested, didn’t you?”
“Damn it, Captain!” Yvonne exploded. “Do you really think this is about toothpaste and sheets? This isn’t about things! It’s about basic freedoms accorded by our Constitution, the very same Constitution I swore to uphold—that you swore to uphold! I have a right to know where I am and what I am expected to do! Do you really think you can just buy me off with a set of sheets?”
Cavitt was silent during this tirade, his hands still tented, eyebrows raised. Yvonne was certain she was going to be reprimanded for insubordination. She’d already said enough to qualify for several reprimands, and she didn’t care. She was so angry she was literally shaking.
“Very well,” Cavitt said quietly. “I must confess you have a point. I have the utmost respect for you and all the soldiers stationed here. I personally chose all of you. I shall answer your questions as best I can. You are currently right where you were before—in Roswell, New Mexico, at the Eagle Rock Military Base. This is an isolated section which served as a medical facility of a sort in the not too distant past. We are currently on the basement level; there is another floor above us. This area has been converted to an experimentation facility and living environment for those who will carry out said experiments or provide security for this operation.”
“ ‘Experimentation’?,” Yvonne said, eyes widening. “What kind of ‘experimentation’?”
“I would think that would be obvious after what you saw tonight,” Cavitt answered.
“My, how the mighty have fallen,” Yvonne said with bitter sarcasm. “After waging war against one who carried out campaigns of incarceration, experimentation, and extermination, we are going to do exactly the same.”
Cavitt’s raised his eyebrows. “You feel sorry for it?”
“Let’s just say I have a soft spot right now for anyone who is taken against their will,” Yvonne said pointedly.
Cavitt’s eyes grew sharp. “Let me remind you of something, Lieutenant. While you’re busy feeling sorry for that creature, it and another like it have infiltrated this base three times with no one the wiser. They can make themselves look like anyone, sound like anyone. It was sheer luck we knew of their presence the first time; the second time they escaped before we even knew they were here. Despite the fact that we laid what I thought was a very clever trap for them tonight, they saw through it, and would have escaped again were it not for the forethought of Private Spade.”
Spade? Oh, Stephen, no! Yvonne thought despairingly. Why would he help Cavitt? This didn’t make any sense.
“ ‘Know your enemy’,” Cavitt went on. “That is one of the oldest rules of the battlefield, and its worth was proven again tonight. And that is exactly what we intend to do; we intend to ‘know our enemy’ as well as we can, so we may be better prepared to fight them should that time arise. The best way to do that is to detain them here and study them, and that is what we—what you—will do.”
“They’re calling it a monster,” Yvonne whispered. “But they’re wrong. You’re the monster.”
Cavitt’s jaw tightened. “I realize I am not a popular man. There are always those who must make the hard decisions, the messy decisions, and in this particular situation, that burden has fallen on my shoulders. If you hate me for that, so be it. History has always hated those with such foresight. I am in good company.”
Yvonne couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He actually thought his actions were not only excusable, but noble?
“How we feel about each other is, however, irrelevant,” Cavitt continued. “Whether you like it or not, you have been assigned here, and I require you to perform your duty to the best of your ability or suffer the consequences.”
“Oh, I know how you feel about me, Captain,” Yvonne said tightly. “You kidnapped me. You locked me up. You treated me just like that creature in there. That right there tells me how much you ‘respect’ me.”
Cavitt’s expression grew weary. “I have apologized for that many times. How many more times must I apologize before you believe me when I say I that things got out of hand?” He leaned forward. “My doctors weren’t the only ones impressed with you,” he said earnestly. I was impressed with the way you handled yourself during those autopsies. Many a hardened soldier would have fallen apart. I was even more impressed that you managed to sit alone in a room with two dead aliens without once complaining. You made not one single phone call during that entire time, Lieutenant. Not one. Anyone else would have been climbing the walls, calling for release or at the very least bothering the guards. You did none of that. That’s how I knew you were the right person for this post.”
Yvonne stared at him, speechless. What he was taking as evidence of bravery and character were actually her attempts to deceive him into thinking both aliens were dead.
“You are welcome to the night off,” Cavitt continued. “I expect you to report for duty at 0600 tomorrow morning at the latest. Incidentally, you received some mail. We will have a mail room installed shortly, but in the meantime, I’ve taken the liberty of sending it to your quarters.”
Yvonne blinked. “Mail? From whom?”
Cavitt looked at her blankly. “Why, from your family, I presume.”
“My family?” Yvonne repeated. “The family who thinks I’m in London? The family you lied to about my whereabouts?”
Cavitt gave another careworn sigh. “Your family does believe you are in London, and they are addressing their correspondence to you there. I have had your mail rerouted here, just as I have everyone else’s from whatever locations their families were told they were stationed. You are free to answer provided you do not give away your location or mission. Your correspondence will be censored, of course, and sent to London first before being forwarded to the recipients. This is not unusual; many soldiers on covert missions find themselves in exactly the same situation.”
“Tell me something, Captain,” Yvonne said slowly. “Do you actually sleep at night? Actually sleep?”
Cavitt’s eyes narrowed. “I am not a monster, Lieutenant, despite what you may think of me. I have sworn to defend my country against all enemies, both foreign and domestic; I believe that oath covers both alien intruders and tantrum-throwing soldiers unable to see the larger picture. I do what I do for the good of the American people. It is my job to keep them safe, and I intend to do just that.” He rose to his feet, indicating that their conversation was over.
“That’s what Hitler said,” Yvonne said softly.
Cavitt stared at her. “Excuse me?”
“That was Hitler’s argument,” Yvonne said, her eyes boring into Cavitt’s. “He claimed he did what he did for the good of the German people, for their own protection. He also claimed he was misunderstood and unjustly vilified. He was every bit as pompous and self righteous as you are, Captain.”
Cavitt had gone rigid; Yvonne could see his jaw clenching and unclenching as he struggled to control himself. “Actually, it’s ‘Major’ now, or will be soon,” he said, eyes flashing. “I have been indulgent, Lieutenant, because I know this has been difficult for you. That indulgence ends here. Any further remarks of this kind will be taken as insubordination and treated accordingly. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Yvonne replied stiffly.
“Good. Dismissed.”
Cavitt stood there, waiting, while Yvonne stared at him defiantly. “I believe it is customary to salute one’s commanding officer upon dismissal, is it not?” he said in a dangerous voice.
Yvonne slowly rose to her feet. He wanted a salute? Fine. She’d give him a salute. But not the one he was expecting—the one he deserved. Hesitating only a moment, she raised her arm in a perfect mimic of a Nazi salute.
Cavitt paled, his face a miasma of emotion as he struggled to decide how to respond. Yvonne stood with her hand in the air, hardly able to believe she was doing this. She who had rarely so much as even questioned a doctor had now committed acts so grievous that Cavitt had several grounds on which to lock her up, even without her chat with the reporter. But he’s already locked me up, she thought fiercely. What was the difference? Being court-martialed sounded more inviting than being forced to violate every oath she’d ever taken, to her country or her profession. There were some things she simply would not do, no matter what the cost.
At length, Cavitt reached a decision: He raised his own hand in a classic salute. Both he and Yvonne dropped their hands and stood glaring at each other.
“Your salute is a bit stiff, Lieutenant,” Cavitt said in a voice that dripped rage. “Specifically, you need to learn how to bend. That which refuses to bend, will break. I’d keep that in mind, if I were you.” Then he turned on his heel and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Yvonne sank back into her chair, ignoring the curious looks of the MP’s staring through the window, no doubt wondering how anyone could anger Cavitt so intensely and live to tell the tale. She was wondering the same thing herself. She had pushed him to the brink, and she was still here. Which meant that Cavitt meant to keep her here in spite of her attitude, and that she’d best watch her step. He could make life very difficult for her indeed.
However he chose to characterize her situation, she was a prisoner in this place every bit as much as that alien.
******************************************************
Amar climbed the stairs to the observation room, every nerve in his body twitching with anticipation. It had taken a surprising amount of time just to locate where they had taken the captured Covari and slip inside. There were two checkpoints through which one must pass, both heavily guarded. Everyone coming through those doors had to have the proper pass, and their names were double checked against a master list. Pitiful security precautions by Antarian standards, but probably the best the humans could do. And still enough to be extremely annoying.
He stood at the back of the room, taking in his surroundings. Ahead of him, the entire far wall was comprised of large windows. Several apes were standing in front of these windows, gawping down at the scene below. That told him he had likely found the right place.
Amar moved forward cautiously, watching to see if anyone noticed. No one paid him any mind; everyone’s attention was focused on whatever was in the room below. As he neared the window, one of the apes gave him a smile and a nod, apparently friendly with the one whose shape Amar had taken. Amar nodded curtly in return, ignoring both the puzzled look from the ape and the need to be careful with his borrowed shape so as not to call attention to himself. Every fiber in his being was focused on reaching that window. He slipped closer, right up to the edge, and looked down.
He was looking into a single room, some kind of medical facility by the looks of it. A horde of apes was below, all dressed in those garish white outfits human healers always wore. They were crowded around a small gray figure that was stretched on a table, spread-eagled, with a primitive imaging device arranged above it. The device blocked the face of the figure, and Amar snorted with impatience.
“Yeah, I know,” the ape closest to him said without turning around. “Aren’t they ugly?”
Look who’s talking, Amar thought angrily. But then the imaging device swung aside, and he was able to see who it was that lay upon that table. His heart began to pound, and he placed one hand on the glass as though touching it would somehow bring him closer to the figure below.
Brivari.
At last, Amar thought, his breath quickening, at last. At long last it was Brivari who was the captive, helpless, held against his will. At last he would learn exactly how it felt to be captured, imprisoned, and tortured in the name of ‘progress’. Finally, the tables had turned.
There is no King to rescue you now, Amar thought with enormous satisfaction. No palace in which to hide, no title to protect you. Brivari, along with others of his rank, had reaped nothing but benefits from the so-called “reforms” Zan’s father had ushered in. Now he would taste what life was like at the other end of the Covari food chain.
But it won’t be the same, will it? Amar thought bitterly. It couldn’t be the same, because it would be humans who would do this to him, not his own kind. It was so much worse when one’s tormentors were one’s own kind. Perhaps he could arrange to slip in here on a regular basis and provide a demonstration of just what it felt like to have one’s own turn against you.
That thought made Amar burn with desire. He slapped his other hand on the glass, his mind swirling with all the various ways he could make that very important point.
“You want a piece of that, Darron?” a voice said in his ear.
Amar jerked his hands off the glass and stared at the ape next to him, who was smiling. Amar managed a small smile in return.
The ape nodded. “We all want a piece of that. Did you see what they did tonight? Four people dead. Two had that weird silver handprint, the other two were burned to a crisp. These things are goddamned killing machines.”
“How exactly did they subdue them?” Amar asked. He’d been dying to know this ever since he’d heard of the capture.
“ ‘Subdue’?” said the ape with mock gravity. “Whoo-hoo! Such big words! Been hittin’ the old dictionary, bud?” The ape gave him a slap on the back. Amar flinched.
The idiot ape appeared not to notice. Of course not—one of the human race’s biggest weaknesses was all they failed to notice. “They used some kind of tranquilizer,” the ape was saying. “You know, a knock-out drug. Knocked it out cold. I guess they’re giving it regular boosters because they don’t want it to wake up too soon.”
“There were two,” Amar said. “What happened to the other one?”
“Got away,” the ape answered. “But we’ll get’im. He fried a guy on the way out and burned a hole in the fence. We know which way he went.”
Figures, Amar snorted silently. And they called this “enhancement”? Leaving a trail of destruction that any idiot could follow? He failed to see how that could be construed as ‘enhancement’. For generations, Covari had been prized precisely because they were invisible. Anyone could be hired to assassinate; Covari assassinated invisibly. Anyone could be hired to steal; Covari stole invisibly. Anyone could be hired to spy; Covari spied invisibly. They could make themselves look like anyone or anything, and their trademark was attracting no attention, leaving no trace of where they had been, no tracks to follow. Now these so called “enhanced” Covari left not only tracks, but calling cards that danced and sang. It was embarrassing.
“Rather stupid, don’t you think?” Amar asked the ape at his elbow. “Leaving such an obvious trail to follow?”
“Oh, but you should see what these things can do,” the ape countered. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping as though sharing a secret. “They can levitate things, make them float, without touching them. They can throw somebody up against a wall from several feet away. They can open locks just by touching them.” The human sighed. “What I wouldn’t give to be able to do things like that,” he said, obviously impressed.
Blithering idiot, Amar thought acidly. The only reason Brivari and company could do those things was because humans could, but humans were too stupid to know that. He looked away, irritated by the ape’s infatuation with Royal Covari’s advanced abilities. They were an abomination.
Down below, the figure on the table was rolled over and the imager reset. Amar leaned his head on the glass, scowling. He knew that when Brivari awoke, the humans would not be able to hold him long without tranquilizing him again. He should be enjoying this while he had the chance, but there was something curiously anticlimactic about all of it. He wanted to revel at seeing one he hated so thoroughly tied hand and foot, but he couldn’t. He wanted to gloat at seeing him at the mercy of his enemies, but he didn’t. Something was missing, and after a moment, Amar put his finger on it.
He’s asleep, he thought bitterly to himself. He has no idea what’s happening. This was simply no fun if Brivari was going to sleep through it all. He wanted to see the dismay on his face, the anger in his eyes, the astonishment when he realized that he, Amar, yet lived, and had returned to take his vengeance. <Wake up!> he mentally commanded the figure down below.
Amar placed both hands on the glass. <Wake up!>
Still nothing. Pounding the glass with his fist, Amar shouted, <WAKE UP!>
The low level muttering that had filled the room abruptly ceased. Amar was suddenly aware of several pairs of curious eyes on him.
“Darron…buddy…are you okay?” the ape next to him asked.
Amar took his hands from the glass. His right hand was still clenched in a tight fist, which he relaxed with difficulty. Everyone was staring at him, some with surprise, some with sympathy.
“I’m okay,” he said. “I’m just…angry.”
“I hear you,” the ape said sympathetically. “We’d all like to get our hands on one of those things, isn’t that right guys?”
A murmur of assent rippled through the “guys”, all of whom were blissfully unaware that one of “those things” was standing right in front of them.
“Hey Darron,” came another voice. “Where are your glasses?”
Amar blinked at the faces waiting expectantly for an answer, remembering. The human whose form he had assumed had been wearing eyeglasses, which he had removed before washing. Those glasses were still sitting right where the human had left them, a testimony to Amar’s carelessness.
“I must have left them somewhere,” Amar mumbled, backing toward the door. “I’ll go find them.”
“Go take a break,” another ape advised. “You look like you need to get away from this for awhile.”
The apes resumed gawping. Amar slipped down the stairs and out the door, silently cursing himself for his lack of vigilance. He had been so intent on getting inside, on seeing who had been captured and how, that he not been careful. Mistakes like that could—and had—cost Covari their lives. He needed to be more cautious. If he were to be captured, he had seen firsthand exactly what would happen to him.
******************************************************
2:25 a.m.
Proctor residence
Emily Proctor pulled the last window shade on the back porch closed, checked the door one more time to be sure it was locked, then sank gratefully onto the porch swing. Every muscle in her body ached, including a distressing number of muscles she didn’t even know she had. She closed her eyes, letting the stillness of the summer night close around her, almost missing the sound of her husband entering the room and plopping into a chair across from her.
“How is he?” she murmured.
“Right where we left him. Still out cold,” David answered. He paused. “Tired?” he asked.
She nodded without opening her eyes. “Those suckers are heavy,” she said, with a wave in the direction of the two alien sacs wrapped in blankets on the floor. “They feel like they each weigh a ton. Must be all the liquid in there. The aliens don’t look that heavy.”
“By the way,” David said, “I have a favor to ask of you.”
Emily rolled her head sideways and cracked an eyelid. “Are you kidding? I am fresh out of favors for you tonight, buddy.”
“Yes, a favor,” David said, ignoring her. “The next time you decide to try the ‘confuse’em with the truth’ tactic, let me know ahead of time so I can bring a clean pair of shorts.”
Emily grabbed a pillow off the porch swing and chucked it at him.
“You can’t be that tired,” David said, his eyes twinkling. “You still have enough strength to attack me.”
“I have more ammunition,” Emily warned, pointing to the rest of the pillows on the swing.
“Seriously,” David said. “That was an awful risk you took, Em. What made you think that guy would let us go, with or without the sacs?”
“What made you think he’d fall for that ‘strolling through culverts in the middle of the night’ shtick? I can’t believe you actually tried that.”
“He couldn’t prove anything,” David pointed out, “especially if we didn’t acknowledge having seen the sacs. Then you went and blew my brilliant plan by doing just that.”
Emily chucked another pillow at him, but only half-heartedly. “It just didn’t add up. Why was he all by himself? Why didn’t he yell for someone else as soon as he found her? There’s no way he could have missed these things. He was fishing too much, asking too many questions. Any ordinary soldier would’ve arrested us on the spot.”
“I thought they didn’t have jurisdiction,” David teased.
“Like that would’ve mattered,” Emily said bitterly, turning her head in the direction of the Brazel’s empty house. “It certainly didn’t matter with Mac.” She sighed. “Isn’t Dee ready for bed yet?”
“She’s taking a bath. Again,” David replied. “She said she’d be down as soon as she’s done to tuck them in.”
“ ‘Tuck them in’?” Emily echoed. David nodded toward the sacs and shrugged.
Emily suddenly sat up and stared at the two large lumps on the floor. “David…did you ever look inside these things?”
“Nope,” he replied promptly. “Never got close enough to them, and that’s fine with me.”
“But aren’t you even a little bit curious?”
“No,” David said firmly. “Valeris told me the people they guard were injured, and they’d brought them here to recover. I’m really not interested in seeing some injured aliens, royalty or no.”
“Well, I want to see what’s in them,” Emily said, sliding off the porch swing to kneel on the floor beside one of the sacs. “I just busted a gut hauling these things around. That gives me the right to a peek, doesn’t it?”
“Suit yourself,” David said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “Not interested.”
Emily tentatively raised a corner of the blanket. There was warmth coming from the sac that could be felt several inches away. She knew the material the sacs were made of felt wrinkled and leathery, and she’d already figured out that the glow was coming from the fluid inside the sac, not the material of the sac itself. She’d also seen things…floating...inside the sacs, and she’d tried very hard to ignore that. Now, safely back inside her own house, she found herself wanting to know.
She pushed the blanket back a bit further. The sac was creased into four separate sections, or pockets, and she focused her attention on the nearest one. Something was moving inside, something very small. She peered more closely, but whatever it was too far down in the watery depths of its pocket to be seen clearly.
Emily hesitated, unsure of how far she wanted to go. They had made a hammock out of blankets for the sacs, one blanket on the bottom, one on the top to hide the glow. But first they had had to maneuver the sacs onto the blankets, and for that, she’d had to touch them. Emily wasn’t the squeamish sort, but she had to admit that touching alien sacs was a bit…gross. She had paid as little attention to them as possible while she was handling them. But now she would have to touch them again if she really wanted to see what was in there.
She really did. Stop being such a baby! Emily chided herself. Grimacing, she pushed down on the nearest pocket, causing the fluid inside to bulge to the sides. Something came into view…and moved.
“David!” Emily exclaimed.
David, who had dropped off to sleep in his chair, jumped. “What? What is it?”
“Come here!” Emily said excitedly, her hands still on the sac. “Come look at this!”
“I told you, I’m not interested,” David said when he saw what she was doing.
“No, really David, you have to see this! They’re…they’re babies!”
David blinked. “Babies?”
“Yes!” Emily exclaimed. “Tiny ones, and they look….”
David sat up. “What?”
Emily looked up at him with wide eyes. “They’re human.”
“Human? How could they be human?”
“They only look human,” said a voice from the door.
David and Emily looked up to see Dee standing there in her sleeveless summer nightgown. She crossed to where the sacs were, and knelt down beside her mother. “Aren’t they cute, Mama?”
Emily had peeled back the rest of the blanket and was inspecting the other pockets. “Two boys, two girls.....I think,” she announced at length. “All fingers and toes present and accounted for. Oh, look!” she added, smiling. “That little boy is sucking his thumb!”
David’s mouth was hanging open. “I don’t understand,” he said in confusion. “Valeris told me these were their royalty. He said they brought them here to heal from war injuries.”
“They didn’t just get hurt—they died,” Dee said, curling into a sitting position. “They’re growing them again, right from babies. I told him I wished they could have done that with Uncle James.”
“That’s a neat trick,” David admitted, “but why do they look human?”
“Valeris and Urza called them ‘hybrids’,” Dee said.
“What does that mean?” Emily asked.
“I think it means that they look human, but they’re really Antarian,” Dee said, frowning.
Emily paused in her inspection of the sacs. “ ‘Antarian’?”
“The name of their planet is ‘Antar’,” Dee replied solemnly. “It’s got a red sun and three moons. It didn’t look like it had as many colors as earth, mostly reds and oranges. Maybe that’s why Urza liked color so much.”
Emily shot a look at David over the nearest sac. They hadn’t heard about this before. What else did their daughter know about these people that they didn’t?”
“Urza came into my dream the night they found the ship,” Dee went on, staring off into space. “He said he was in my dream but his body was somewhere else, just like I was in my dream, but my body was asleep in my bed. He…” Her voice faltered a moment, and she swallowed. “He said we could do anything because it was a dream. So I told him I wanted to see his ship, and he took me for a ride to his own planet. He said he wanted to show me what they were fighting for. And he said that no matter what happened, we had managed to save most of the babies, and that meant we had won.”
David opened his mouth to say something, but Emily shook her head quickly, cautioning silence. Dee had never talked this much about what had happened to her, and she needed to. This was the stage David’s brother James had never reached. Instead of talking about his awful experiences in the war, he had turned inward, shut down, and ultimately, imploded.
“But I don’t feel like we’ve won,” Dee went on, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He died in my dream. He was….he was sitting right next to me, and then the next minute he wasn’t. He just…disappeared. I knew he was dead, but I didn’t want to believe it. But then Jaddo said they were both dead, and Brivari came back with those containers. And Valeris did surrender just like I told him to, but they killed him anyway......”
Dee stopped, her voice finally failing her, and then she put her head in her hands and sobbed.
Emily’s eyes locked with David’s over their weeping daughter. He’d already been through the wringer on this one, trying to get Dee to talk, defending her anger, pointing to ways she might crawl out of the pit she’d fallen into. And Emily had balked at every turn, clinging to some phantom definition of “innocence” that no longer existed, that apparently hadn’t existed for quite some time. She certainly hadn’t been making his job any easier.
Silently, Emily inclined her head toward the door. Let me handle this, the nod said. It was her turn at bat. She’d missed the ball too many times already. Let him sit this one out.
David nodded and silently left the room, closing the porch door quietly behind him. The porch was dark, the only light coming from the glowing alien sac she was still kneeling beside, the only sound from her heartbroken child, hiccupping as she tried to quiet herself, to hold in what had to come out.
Emily pulled the blanket back over the sac and resumed her seat on the porch swing. Holding out her arms in the universal posture of mothers everywhere, she spoke gently to her daughter. “Come here.”
Dee looked up, and in an instant was curled on her mother’s lap, crying uncontrollably. Emily tucked herself into the corner of the porch swing, one leg on the floor, and rocked it back and forth, back and forth, stroking her child’s hair, saying nothing. There was nothing to say. She was wise enough not to murmur idiocies like “that’s okay”, or “don’t cry”. It wasn’t okay, and Dee had dozens of excellent reasons to cry.
After several minutes her sobs began to subside, and after several more minutes, they ceased. Mother and daughter lay curled on the porch swing, rocking, rocking.
“Is this how you and Daddy felt when Uncle James died?” Dee whispered.
“Pretty much,” Emily said quietly.
“Does it ever get better? Does it ever go away?”
“It gets better,” Emily said, “but it doesn’t go away. And it shouldn’t, really. If you really care about someone, you never completely stop missing them.”
“I want it to go away,” Dee whispered, her eyes screwed tightly shut. “I don’t ever want to feel this way again.”
“You could do that,” Emily said slowly, “but I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Why not? This is awful, Mama! I think about it all the time. I dream about it every night. I keep wanting to cry all the time. The only thing that stops it is being mad. But being mad is no good either.”
Emily stroked her daughter’s hair and kissed her head. “Honey, there are two kinds of people in this world: Those who can feel, and those who are numb. The people who feel, feel everything, the good things and the bad things. The people who are numb feel nothing, the bad things......or the good things. That’s the way feelings are; they’re a package deal. You can’t feel only the good and not the bad.”
“The numb ones don’t sound so bad,” Dee said in a voice husky from crying. “At least they don’t have to hurt like this.”
“True,” Emily agreed, “but that also means they can’t feel joy. And being numb doesn’t take away whatever awful thing happened to make them want to be numb in the first place. So they’re left with the bad memories, and no way to experience happy things to offset them. They’re still miserable, and they’ve cut themselves off from the only way to end that misery.”
Emily stopped rocking and pulled her daughter up so they were facing each other. “That’s what happened to Uncle James. He didn’t want to feel sadness, and that meant he couldn’t feel happiness either. But he still had the memories of the war, and because he wouldn’t let himself feel, that’s all he wound up having. That’s why he killed himself. He let himself go numb.”
Emily wiped Dee’s tear stained face with her hands. “Don’t do that, sweetheart. I know it hurts. It hurts like hell. But it hurts for a reason, a good reason. People you cared about are gone, and you miss them. Our people behaved badly. You’re sad, and you’re angry, and you have a right to be. That sadness is what made you so willing to go out tonight and try to fix what you saw as wrong. Your anger is what made you stand up for your friend earlier today when you thought he was being treated unfairly. Even bad feelings have their uses; without them, we wouldn’t find the courage or the strength to fix what’s wrong. And without being open to bad feelings, we’re also not open to good ones, and that’s no way to live. Being numb isn’t living; it’s just existing. There’s a difference.”
Emily stopped talking; the lecture was already long enough, and long lectures seldom got the point across. Dee looked at her for a moment, then curled up against her once more.
“Urza wasn’t angry,” Dee said in a calmer voice, “even though I was. Neither was Valeris. Valeris said that the soldiers were just afraid, and that they had a right to be. He thought he could talk to one of them. He said that everywhere you go, there’s someone whose curiosity outweighs their fear.”
“Valeris sounds like a smart guy,” Emily said, resuming their rocking. “And Urza sounds like a lot of fun. Wasn’t he the one you spent time with at the festival?” Dee nodded, her head still against her mother’s chest.
“You’ve never told me about them,” Emily said softly.
“You never asked.”
Emily swallowed. No, she hadn’t asked, because she’d been too busy trying to forget, to haul everything back to “normal”. It was time for that nonsense to stop.
“Well, I’m asking now,” she said firmly. “Tell me about them. Tell me what you did with them, and what they said, and what kind of people they were. Emily brushed her daughter’s hair out of her eyes and smiled down at her. “Tell me about your friends.”
July 11, 1947, 0135 hours
Eagle Rock Military Base
Yvonne White sat with her head in her hands, elbows resting on the table. Her stomach, though blessedly empty, was still churning violently; she felt she would be sick again any minute. The image of that gray body, drugged and helpless against the taunts and looks of disgust, was impossible to get out of her mind.
The door opened. She heard footsteps walk toward her, and something heavy clink on the table beside her. The delicious odor of fresh coffee wafted her way, and her stomach began to settle in anticipation. She reached for the cup and lifted it with shaking hands.
“I thought that might make you feel better,” a familiar voice said.
Yvonne jerked her head up to see Captain Cavitt. The next instant, she’d hurled the coffee cup across the room. It smashed into the wall, causing a spectacular noise, a spectacular stain, and the appearance of several spectacularly startled MP’s.
Captain Cavitt gave a heavy sigh. “That’s all right, that’s all right,” he said, waving away the soldiers, who wandered back outside the room after giving her looks ranging from dark to sympathetic.
Cavitt closed the door and sat down beside her. Instinctively, Yvonne backed her chair away from him. She had neither seen nor spoken to him since losing her dinner all over his shoes, and she only wished she’d had the foresight to aim higher. Shoes were too easy to clean.
Cavitt sat in silence for several moments before speaking. “I gather, Lieutenant,” he said at length, “that you are angry with me.”
Brilliant, Yvonne thought sarcastically. She kept her eyes fixed on a point on the wall straight ahead. She didn’t want to look at him, to see that triumphant smirk cover his face the way it had when he had first shown her the alien. It was the look of one who enjoyed inflicting pain, who felt he had a right to inflict pain. Yvonne had watched other soldiers go this same route, and the results were never pretty.
“Would it make any difference if I were to tell you that all the other soldiers are here under exactly the same conditions you are? None of them chose this duty; they were assigned. They had no more choice in the matter than you did.”
“Really?” Yvonne said with mock surprise. “I see you’ve been busy then, Captain. Kidnapping all those people must have been quite an undertaking. Did they all wind up with concussions like me, or is that something special you save for female recruits?”
“I apologize once again for the manner in which you arrived here,” Cavitt said in a remarkably calm voice. “I did not intend to ‘kidnap’ you, as you so dramatically put it, but merely to divert you. It was necessary for the rest of the world to think you had been reassigned elsewhere. Those I sent to intercept you were a bit more…aggressive than they needed to be. And, as I have already pointed out, your resistance was more than they expected.”
“They attacked me!” Yvonne said, her voice rising. “They assaulted me! Is that how the other soldiers arrived? With someone’s hands all over their breasts?”
For the first time since Yvonne had met him, Cavitt actually looked shocked. “I didn’t know about that! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“As if you would have cared,” Yvonne said angrily.
“You misjudge me,” Cavitt protested. “I have no intention of tolerating such behavior. The soldiers responsible will be severely punished, I assure you. I apologize for their actions; I do not apologize for the deception involved in bringing you here. You were being reassigned to a covert operation. Absolute secrecy was required. Reassignment is within the Army’s rights, Lieutenant. Surely you knew that when you enlisted.”
“Reassignment is not synonymous with kidnapping,” Yvonne said, struggling to keep her voice level. “But then kidnapping does seem to be your forte lately, regardless of species.”
Cavitt sighed again. He was silent so long this time that Yvonne risked a peek. She was surprised to find no trace of anger or triumph in his expression. His fingers were tented, his eyes staring off into space, deep in thought. She waited.
“Look,” Cavitt said at last, “I know this has been hard on you, and I am truly sorry for that. I have attempted to make it up to each and every one of you by providing you with things you would not normally have. Your quarters, for example, are far larger than would normally be accorded someone of your rank. I meant it when I said you could have anything you wanted. Food, clothing, toiletries, books—simply name it, and I will see it is procured. The same goes for the others. I realize I ask a great deal of you, and I am prepared to give a great deal in return.” He paused. “You did get the toothpaste and sheets you requested, didn’t you?”
“Damn it, Captain!” Yvonne exploded. “Do you really think this is about toothpaste and sheets? This isn’t about things! It’s about basic freedoms accorded by our Constitution, the very same Constitution I swore to uphold—that you swore to uphold! I have a right to know where I am and what I am expected to do! Do you really think you can just buy me off with a set of sheets?”
Cavitt was silent during this tirade, his hands still tented, eyebrows raised. Yvonne was certain she was going to be reprimanded for insubordination. She’d already said enough to qualify for several reprimands, and she didn’t care. She was so angry she was literally shaking.
“Very well,” Cavitt said quietly. “I must confess you have a point. I have the utmost respect for you and all the soldiers stationed here. I personally chose all of you. I shall answer your questions as best I can. You are currently right where you were before—in Roswell, New Mexico, at the Eagle Rock Military Base. This is an isolated section which served as a medical facility of a sort in the not too distant past. We are currently on the basement level; there is another floor above us. This area has been converted to an experimentation facility and living environment for those who will carry out said experiments or provide security for this operation.”
“ ‘Experimentation’?,” Yvonne said, eyes widening. “What kind of ‘experimentation’?”
“I would think that would be obvious after what you saw tonight,” Cavitt answered.
“My, how the mighty have fallen,” Yvonne said with bitter sarcasm. “After waging war against one who carried out campaigns of incarceration, experimentation, and extermination, we are going to do exactly the same.”
Cavitt’s raised his eyebrows. “You feel sorry for it?”
“Let’s just say I have a soft spot right now for anyone who is taken against their will,” Yvonne said pointedly.
Cavitt’s eyes grew sharp. “Let me remind you of something, Lieutenant. While you’re busy feeling sorry for that creature, it and another like it have infiltrated this base three times with no one the wiser. They can make themselves look like anyone, sound like anyone. It was sheer luck we knew of their presence the first time; the second time they escaped before we even knew they were here. Despite the fact that we laid what I thought was a very clever trap for them tonight, they saw through it, and would have escaped again were it not for the forethought of Private Spade.”
Spade? Oh, Stephen, no! Yvonne thought despairingly. Why would he help Cavitt? This didn’t make any sense.
“ ‘Know your enemy’,” Cavitt went on. “That is one of the oldest rules of the battlefield, and its worth was proven again tonight. And that is exactly what we intend to do; we intend to ‘know our enemy’ as well as we can, so we may be better prepared to fight them should that time arise. The best way to do that is to detain them here and study them, and that is what we—what you—will do.”
“They’re calling it a monster,” Yvonne whispered. “But they’re wrong. You’re the monster.”
Cavitt’s jaw tightened. “I realize I am not a popular man. There are always those who must make the hard decisions, the messy decisions, and in this particular situation, that burden has fallen on my shoulders. If you hate me for that, so be it. History has always hated those with such foresight. I am in good company.”
Yvonne couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He actually thought his actions were not only excusable, but noble?
“How we feel about each other is, however, irrelevant,” Cavitt continued. “Whether you like it or not, you have been assigned here, and I require you to perform your duty to the best of your ability or suffer the consequences.”
“Oh, I know how you feel about me, Captain,” Yvonne said tightly. “You kidnapped me. You locked me up. You treated me just like that creature in there. That right there tells me how much you ‘respect’ me.”
Cavitt’s expression grew weary. “I have apologized for that many times. How many more times must I apologize before you believe me when I say I that things got out of hand?” He leaned forward. “My doctors weren’t the only ones impressed with you,” he said earnestly. I was impressed with the way you handled yourself during those autopsies. Many a hardened soldier would have fallen apart. I was even more impressed that you managed to sit alone in a room with two dead aliens without once complaining. You made not one single phone call during that entire time, Lieutenant. Not one. Anyone else would have been climbing the walls, calling for release or at the very least bothering the guards. You did none of that. That’s how I knew you were the right person for this post.”
Yvonne stared at him, speechless. What he was taking as evidence of bravery and character were actually her attempts to deceive him into thinking both aliens were dead.
“You are welcome to the night off,” Cavitt continued. “I expect you to report for duty at 0600 tomorrow morning at the latest. Incidentally, you received some mail. We will have a mail room installed shortly, but in the meantime, I’ve taken the liberty of sending it to your quarters.”
Yvonne blinked. “Mail? From whom?”
Cavitt looked at her blankly. “Why, from your family, I presume.”
“My family?” Yvonne repeated. “The family who thinks I’m in London? The family you lied to about my whereabouts?”
Cavitt gave another careworn sigh. “Your family does believe you are in London, and they are addressing their correspondence to you there. I have had your mail rerouted here, just as I have everyone else’s from whatever locations their families were told they were stationed. You are free to answer provided you do not give away your location or mission. Your correspondence will be censored, of course, and sent to London first before being forwarded to the recipients. This is not unusual; many soldiers on covert missions find themselves in exactly the same situation.”
“Tell me something, Captain,” Yvonne said slowly. “Do you actually sleep at night? Actually sleep?”
Cavitt’s eyes narrowed. “I am not a monster, Lieutenant, despite what you may think of me. I have sworn to defend my country against all enemies, both foreign and domestic; I believe that oath covers both alien intruders and tantrum-throwing soldiers unable to see the larger picture. I do what I do for the good of the American people. It is my job to keep them safe, and I intend to do just that.” He rose to his feet, indicating that their conversation was over.
“That’s what Hitler said,” Yvonne said softly.
Cavitt stared at her. “Excuse me?”
“That was Hitler’s argument,” Yvonne said, her eyes boring into Cavitt’s. “He claimed he did what he did for the good of the German people, for their own protection. He also claimed he was misunderstood and unjustly vilified. He was every bit as pompous and self righteous as you are, Captain.”
Cavitt had gone rigid; Yvonne could see his jaw clenching and unclenching as he struggled to control himself. “Actually, it’s ‘Major’ now, or will be soon,” he said, eyes flashing. “I have been indulgent, Lieutenant, because I know this has been difficult for you. That indulgence ends here. Any further remarks of this kind will be taken as insubordination and treated accordingly. Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Yvonne replied stiffly.
“Good. Dismissed.”
Cavitt stood there, waiting, while Yvonne stared at him defiantly. “I believe it is customary to salute one’s commanding officer upon dismissal, is it not?” he said in a dangerous voice.
Yvonne slowly rose to her feet. He wanted a salute? Fine. She’d give him a salute. But not the one he was expecting—the one he deserved. Hesitating only a moment, she raised her arm in a perfect mimic of a Nazi salute.
Cavitt paled, his face a miasma of emotion as he struggled to decide how to respond. Yvonne stood with her hand in the air, hardly able to believe she was doing this. She who had rarely so much as even questioned a doctor had now committed acts so grievous that Cavitt had several grounds on which to lock her up, even without her chat with the reporter. But he’s already locked me up, she thought fiercely. What was the difference? Being court-martialed sounded more inviting than being forced to violate every oath she’d ever taken, to her country or her profession. There were some things she simply would not do, no matter what the cost.
At length, Cavitt reached a decision: He raised his own hand in a classic salute. Both he and Yvonne dropped their hands and stood glaring at each other.
“Your salute is a bit stiff, Lieutenant,” Cavitt said in a voice that dripped rage. “Specifically, you need to learn how to bend. That which refuses to bend, will break. I’d keep that in mind, if I were you.” Then he turned on his heel and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Yvonne sank back into her chair, ignoring the curious looks of the MP’s staring through the window, no doubt wondering how anyone could anger Cavitt so intensely and live to tell the tale. She was wondering the same thing herself. She had pushed him to the brink, and she was still here. Which meant that Cavitt meant to keep her here in spite of her attitude, and that she’d best watch her step. He could make life very difficult for her indeed.
However he chose to characterize her situation, she was a prisoner in this place every bit as much as that alien.
******************************************************
Amar climbed the stairs to the observation room, every nerve in his body twitching with anticipation. It had taken a surprising amount of time just to locate where they had taken the captured Covari and slip inside. There were two checkpoints through which one must pass, both heavily guarded. Everyone coming through those doors had to have the proper pass, and their names were double checked against a master list. Pitiful security precautions by Antarian standards, but probably the best the humans could do. And still enough to be extremely annoying.
He stood at the back of the room, taking in his surroundings. Ahead of him, the entire far wall was comprised of large windows. Several apes were standing in front of these windows, gawping down at the scene below. That told him he had likely found the right place.
Amar moved forward cautiously, watching to see if anyone noticed. No one paid him any mind; everyone’s attention was focused on whatever was in the room below. As he neared the window, one of the apes gave him a smile and a nod, apparently friendly with the one whose shape Amar had taken. Amar nodded curtly in return, ignoring both the puzzled look from the ape and the need to be careful with his borrowed shape so as not to call attention to himself. Every fiber in his being was focused on reaching that window. He slipped closer, right up to the edge, and looked down.
He was looking into a single room, some kind of medical facility by the looks of it. A horde of apes was below, all dressed in those garish white outfits human healers always wore. They were crowded around a small gray figure that was stretched on a table, spread-eagled, with a primitive imaging device arranged above it. The device blocked the face of the figure, and Amar snorted with impatience.
“Yeah, I know,” the ape closest to him said without turning around. “Aren’t they ugly?”
Look who’s talking, Amar thought angrily. But then the imaging device swung aside, and he was able to see who it was that lay upon that table. His heart began to pound, and he placed one hand on the glass as though touching it would somehow bring him closer to the figure below.
Brivari.
At last, Amar thought, his breath quickening, at last. At long last it was Brivari who was the captive, helpless, held against his will. At last he would learn exactly how it felt to be captured, imprisoned, and tortured in the name of ‘progress’. Finally, the tables had turned.
There is no King to rescue you now, Amar thought with enormous satisfaction. No palace in which to hide, no title to protect you. Brivari, along with others of his rank, had reaped nothing but benefits from the so-called “reforms” Zan’s father had ushered in. Now he would taste what life was like at the other end of the Covari food chain.
But it won’t be the same, will it? Amar thought bitterly. It couldn’t be the same, because it would be humans who would do this to him, not his own kind. It was so much worse when one’s tormentors were one’s own kind. Perhaps he could arrange to slip in here on a regular basis and provide a demonstration of just what it felt like to have one’s own turn against you.
That thought made Amar burn with desire. He slapped his other hand on the glass, his mind swirling with all the various ways he could make that very important point.
“You want a piece of that, Darron?” a voice said in his ear.
Amar jerked his hands off the glass and stared at the ape next to him, who was smiling. Amar managed a small smile in return.
The ape nodded. “We all want a piece of that. Did you see what they did tonight? Four people dead. Two had that weird silver handprint, the other two were burned to a crisp. These things are goddamned killing machines.”
“How exactly did they subdue them?” Amar asked. He’d been dying to know this ever since he’d heard of the capture.
“ ‘Subdue’?” said the ape with mock gravity. “Whoo-hoo! Such big words! Been hittin’ the old dictionary, bud?” The ape gave him a slap on the back. Amar flinched.
The idiot ape appeared not to notice. Of course not—one of the human race’s biggest weaknesses was all they failed to notice. “They used some kind of tranquilizer,” the ape was saying. “You know, a knock-out drug. Knocked it out cold. I guess they’re giving it regular boosters because they don’t want it to wake up too soon.”
“There were two,” Amar said. “What happened to the other one?”
“Got away,” the ape answered. “But we’ll get’im. He fried a guy on the way out and burned a hole in the fence. We know which way he went.”
Figures, Amar snorted silently. And they called this “enhancement”? Leaving a trail of destruction that any idiot could follow? He failed to see how that could be construed as ‘enhancement’. For generations, Covari had been prized precisely because they were invisible. Anyone could be hired to assassinate; Covari assassinated invisibly. Anyone could be hired to steal; Covari stole invisibly. Anyone could be hired to spy; Covari spied invisibly. They could make themselves look like anyone or anything, and their trademark was attracting no attention, leaving no trace of where they had been, no tracks to follow. Now these so called “enhanced” Covari left not only tracks, but calling cards that danced and sang. It was embarrassing.
“Rather stupid, don’t you think?” Amar asked the ape at his elbow. “Leaving such an obvious trail to follow?”
“Oh, but you should see what these things can do,” the ape countered. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping as though sharing a secret. “They can levitate things, make them float, without touching them. They can throw somebody up against a wall from several feet away. They can open locks just by touching them.” The human sighed. “What I wouldn’t give to be able to do things like that,” he said, obviously impressed.
Blithering idiot, Amar thought acidly. The only reason Brivari and company could do those things was because humans could, but humans were too stupid to know that. He looked away, irritated by the ape’s infatuation with Royal Covari’s advanced abilities. They were an abomination.
Down below, the figure on the table was rolled over and the imager reset. Amar leaned his head on the glass, scowling. He knew that when Brivari awoke, the humans would not be able to hold him long without tranquilizing him again. He should be enjoying this while he had the chance, but there was something curiously anticlimactic about all of it. He wanted to revel at seeing one he hated so thoroughly tied hand and foot, but he couldn’t. He wanted to gloat at seeing him at the mercy of his enemies, but he didn’t. Something was missing, and after a moment, Amar put his finger on it.
He’s asleep, he thought bitterly to himself. He has no idea what’s happening. This was simply no fun if Brivari was going to sleep through it all. He wanted to see the dismay on his face, the anger in his eyes, the astonishment when he realized that he, Amar, yet lived, and had returned to take his vengeance. <Wake up!> he mentally commanded the figure down below.
Amar placed both hands on the glass. <Wake up!>
Still nothing. Pounding the glass with his fist, Amar shouted, <WAKE UP!>
The low level muttering that had filled the room abruptly ceased. Amar was suddenly aware of several pairs of curious eyes on him.
“Darron…buddy…are you okay?” the ape next to him asked.
Amar took his hands from the glass. His right hand was still clenched in a tight fist, which he relaxed with difficulty. Everyone was staring at him, some with surprise, some with sympathy.
“I’m okay,” he said. “I’m just…angry.”
“I hear you,” the ape said sympathetically. “We’d all like to get our hands on one of those things, isn’t that right guys?”
A murmur of assent rippled through the “guys”, all of whom were blissfully unaware that one of “those things” was standing right in front of them.
“Hey Darron,” came another voice. “Where are your glasses?”
Amar blinked at the faces waiting expectantly for an answer, remembering. The human whose form he had assumed had been wearing eyeglasses, which he had removed before washing. Those glasses were still sitting right where the human had left them, a testimony to Amar’s carelessness.
“I must have left them somewhere,” Amar mumbled, backing toward the door. “I’ll go find them.”
“Go take a break,” another ape advised. “You look like you need to get away from this for awhile.”
The apes resumed gawping. Amar slipped down the stairs and out the door, silently cursing himself for his lack of vigilance. He had been so intent on getting inside, on seeing who had been captured and how, that he not been careful. Mistakes like that could—and had—cost Covari their lives. He needed to be more cautious. If he were to be captured, he had seen firsthand exactly what would happen to him.
******************************************************
2:25 a.m.
Proctor residence
Emily Proctor pulled the last window shade on the back porch closed, checked the door one more time to be sure it was locked, then sank gratefully onto the porch swing. Every muscle in her body ached, including a distressing number of muscles she didn’t even know she had. She closed her eyes, letting the stillness of the summer night close around her, almost missing the sound of her husband entering the room and plopping into a chair across from her.
“How is he?” she murmured.
“Right where we left him. Still out cold,” David answered. He paused. “Tired?” he asked.
She nodded without opening her eyes. “Those suckers are heavy,” she said, with a wave in the direction of the two alien sacs wrapped in blankets on the floor. “They feel like they each weigh a ton. Must be all the liquid in there. The aliens don’t look that heavy.”
“By the way,” David said, “I have a favor to ask of you.”
Emily rolled her head sideways and cracked an eyelid. “Are you kidding? I am fresh out of favors for you tonight, buddy.”
“Yes, a favor,” David said, ignoring her. “The next time you decide to try the ‘confuse’em with the truth’ tactic, let me know ahead of time so I can bring a clean pair of shorts.”
Emily grabbed a pillow off the porch swing and chucked it at him.
“You can’t be that tired,” David said, his eyes twinkling. “You still have enough strength to attack me.”
“I have more ammunition,” Emily warned, pointing to the rest of the pillows on the swing.
“Seriously,” David said. “That was an awful risk you took, Em. What made you think that guy would let us go, with or without the sacs?”
“What made you think he’d fall for that ‘strolling through culverts in the middle of the night’ shtick? I can’t believe you actually tried that.”
“He couldn’t prove anything,” David pointed out, “especially if we didn’t acknowledge having seen the sacs. Then you went and blew my brilliant plan by doing just that.”
Emily chucked another pillow at him, but only half-heartedly. “It just didn’t add up. Why was he all by himself? Why didn’t he yell for someone else as soon as he found her? There’s no way he could have missed these things. He was fishing too much, asking too many questions. Any ordinary soldier would’ve arrested us on the spot.”
“I thought they didn’t have jurisdiction,” David teased.
“Like that would’ve mattered,” Emily said bitterly, turning her head in the direction of the Brazel’s empty house. “It certainly didn’t matter with Mac.” She sighed. “Isn’t Dee ready for bed yet?”
“She’s taking a bath. Again,” David replied. “She said she’d be down as soon as she’s done to tuck them in.”
“ ‘Tuck them in’?” Emily echoed. David nodded toward the sacs and shrugged.
Emily suddenly sat up and stared at the two large lumps on the floor. “David…did you ever look inside these things?”
“Nope,” he replied promptly. “Never got close enough to them, and that’s fine with me.”
“But aren’t you even a little bit curious?”
“No,” David said firmly. “Valeris told me the people they guard were injured, and they’d brought them here to recover. I’m really not interested in seeing some injured aliens, royalty or no.”
“Well, I want to see what’s in them,” Emily said, sliding off the porch swing to kneel on the floor beside one of the sacs. “I just busted a gut hauling these things around. That gives me the right to a peek, doesn’t it?”
“Suit yourself,” David said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “Not interested.”
Emily tentatively raised a corner of the blanket. There was warmth coming from the sac that could be felt several inches away. She knew the material the sacs were made of felt wrinkled and leathery, and she’d already figured out that the glow was coming from the fluid inside the sac, not the material of the sac itself. She’d also seen things…floating...inside the sacs, and she’d tried very hard to ignore that. Now, safely back inside her own house, she found herself wanting to know.
She pushed the blanket back a bit further. The sac was creased into four separate sections, or pockets, and she focused her attention on the nearest one. Something was moving inside, something very small. She peered more closely, but whatever it was too far down in the watery depths of its pocket to be seen clearly.
Emily hesitated, unsure of how far she wanted to go. They had made a hammock out of blankets for the sacs, one blanket on the bottom, one on the top to hide the glow. But first they had had to maneuver the sacs onto the blankets, and for that, she’d had to touch them. Emily wasn’t the squeamish sort, but she had to admit that touching alien sacs was a bit…gross. She had paid as little attention to them as possible while she was handling them. But now she would have to touch them again if she really wanted to see what was in there.
She really did. Stop being such a baby! Emily chided herself. Grimacing, she pushed down on the nearest pocket, causing the fluid inside to bulge to the sides. Something came into view…and moved.
“David!” Emily exclaimed.
David, who had dropped off to sleep in his chair, jumped. “What? What is it?”
“Come here!” Emily said excitedly, her hands still on the sac. “Come look at this!”
“I told you, I’m not interested,” David said when he saw what she was doing.
“No, really David, you have to see this! They’re…they’re babies!”
David blinked. “Babies?”
“Yes!” Emily exclaimed. “Tiny ones, and they look….”
David sat up. “What?”
Emily looked up at him with wide eyes. “They’re human.”
“Human? How could they be human?”
“They only look human,” said a voice from the door.
David and Emily looked up to see Dee standing there in her sleeveless summer nightgown. She crossed to where the sacs were, and knelt down beside her mother. “Aren’t they cute, Mama?”
Emily had peeled back the rest of the blanket and was inspecting the other pockets. “Two boys, two girls.....I think,” she announced at length. “All fingers and toes present and accounted for. Oh, look!” she added, smiling. “That little boy is sucking his thumb!”
David’s mouth was hanging open. “I don’t understand,” he said in confusion. “Valeris told me these were their royalty. He said they brought them here to heal from war injuries.”
“They didn’t just get hurt—they died,” Dee said, curling into a sitting position. “They’re growing them again, right from babies. I told him I wished they could have done that with Uncle James.”
“That’s a neat trick,” David admitted, “but why do they look human?”
“Valeris and Urza called them ‘hybrids’,” Dee said.
“What does that mean?” Emily asked.
“I think it means that they look human, but they’re really Antarian,” Dee said, frowning.
Emily paused in her inspection of the sacs. “ ‘Antarian’?”
“The name of their planet is ‘Antar’,” Dee replied solemnly. “It’s got a red sun and three moons. It didn’t look like it had as many colors as earth, mostly reds and oranges. Maybe that’s why Urza liked color so much.”
Emily shot a look at David over the nearest sac. They hadn’t heard about this before. What else did their daughter know about these people that they didn’t?”
“Urza came into my dream the night they found the ship,” Dee went on, staring off into space. “He said he was in my dream but his body was somewhere else, just like I was in my dream, but my body was asleep in my bed. He…” Her voice faltered a moment, and she swallowed. “He said we could do anything because it was a dream. So I told him I wanted to see his ship, and he took me for a ride to his own planet. He said he wanted to show me what they were fighting for. And he said that no matter what happened, we had managed to save most of the babies, and that meant we had won.”
David opened his mouth to say something, but Emily shook her head quickly, cautioning silence. Dee had never talked this much about what had happened to her, and she needed to. This was the stage David’s brother James had never reached. Instead of talking about his awful experiences in the war, he had turned inward, shut down, and ultimately, imploded.
“But I don’t feel like we’ve won,” Dee went on, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He died in my dream. He was….he was sitting right next to me, and then the next minute he wasn’t. He just…disappeared. I knew he was dead, but I didn’t want to believe it. But then Jaddo said they were both dead, and Brivari came back with those containers. And Valeris did surrender just like I told him to, but they killed him anyway......”
Dee stopped, her voice finally failing her, and then she put her head in her hands and sobbed.
Emily’s eyes locked with David’s over their weeping daughter. He’d already been through the wringer on this one, trying to get Dee to talk, defending her anger, pointing to ways she might crawl out of the pit she’d fallen into. And Emily had balked at every turn, clinging to some phantom definition of “innocence” that no longer existed, that apparently hadn’t existed for quite some time. She certainly hadn’t been making his job any easier.
Silently, Emily inclined her head toward the door. Let me handle this, the nod said. It was her turn at bat. She’d missed the ball too many times already. Let him sit this one out.
David nodded and silently left the room, closing the porch door quietly behind him. The porch was dark, the only light coming from the glowing alien sac she was still kneeling beside, the only sound from her heartbroken child, hiccupping as she tried to quiet herself, to hold in what had to come out.
Emily pulled the blanket back over the sac and resumed her seat on the porch swing. Holding out her arms in the universal posture of mothers everywhere, she spoke gently to her daughter. “Come here.”
Dee looked up, and in an instant was curled on her mother’s lap, crying uncontrollably. Emily tucked herself into the corner of the porch swing, one leg on the floor, and rocked it back and forth, back and forth, stroking her child’s hair, saying nothing. There was nothing to say. She was wise enough not to murmur idiocies like “that’s okay”, or “don’t cry”. It wasn’t okay, and Dee had dozens of excellent reasons to cry.
After several minutes her sobs began to subside, and after several more minutes, they ceased. Mother and daughter lay curled on the porch swing, rocking, rocking.
“Is this how you and Daddy felt when Uncle James died?” Dee whispered.
“Pretty much,” Emily said quietly.
“Does it ever get better? Does it ever go away?”
“It gets better,” Emily said, “but it doesn’t go away. And it shouldn’t, really. If you really care about someone, you never completely stop missing them.”
“I want it to go away,” Dee whispered, her eyes screwed tightly shut. “I don’t ever want to feel this way again.”
“You could do that,” Emily said slowly, “but I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Why not? This is awful, Mama! I think about it all the time. I dream about it every night. I keep wanting to cry all the time. The only thing that stops it is being mad. But being mad is no good either.”
Emily stroked her daughter’s hair and kissed her head. “Honey, there are two kinds of people in this world: Those who can feel, and those who are numb. The people who feel, feel everything, the good things and the bad things. The people who are numb feel nothing, the bad things......or the good things. That’s the way feelings are; they’re a package deal. You can’t feel only the good and not the bad.”
“The numb ones don’t sound so bad,” Dee said in a voice husky from crying. “At least they don’t have to hurt like this.”
“True,” Emily agreed, “but that also means they can’t feel joy. And being numb doesn’t take away whatever awful thing happened to make them want to be numb in the first place. So they’re left with the bad memories, and no way to experience happy things to offset them. They’re still miserable, and they’ve cut themselves off from the only way to end that misery.”
Emily stopped rocking and pulled her daughter up so they were facing each other. “That’s what happened to Uncle James. He didn’t want to feel sadness, and that meant he couldn’t feel happiness either. But he still had the memories of the war, and because he wouldn’t let himself feel, that’s all he wound up having. That’s why he killed himself. He let himself go numb.”
Emily wiped Dee’s tear stained face with her hands. “Don’t do that, sweetheart. I know it hurts. It hurts like hell. But it hurts for a reason, a good reason. People you cared about are gone, and you miss them. Our people behaved badly. You’re sad, and you’re angry, and you have a right to be. That sadness is what made you so willing to go out tonight and try to fix what you saw as wrong. Your anger is what made you stand up for your friend earlier today when you thought he was being treated unfairly. Even bad feelings have their uses; without them, we wouldn’t find the courage or the strength to fix what’s wrong. And without being open to bad feelings, we’re also not open to good ones, and that’s no way to live. Being numb isn’t living; it’s just existing. There’s a difference.”
Emily stopped talking; the lecture was already long enough, and long lectures seldom got the point across. Dee looked at her for a moment, then curled up against her once more.
“Urza wasn’t angry,” Dee said in a calmer voice, “even though I was. Neither was Valeris. Valeris said that the soldiers were just afraid, and that they had a right to be. He thought he could talk to one of them. He said that everywhere you go, there’s someone whose curiosity outweighs their fear.”
“Valeris sounds like a smart guy,” Emily said, resuming their rocking. “And Urza sounds like a lot of fun. Wasn’t he the one you spent time with at the festival?” Dee nodded, her head still against her mother’s chest.
“You’ve never told me about them,” Emily said softly.
“You never asked.”
Emily swallowed. No, she hadn’t asked, because she’d been too busy trying to forget, to haul everything back to “normal”. It was time for that nonsense to stop.
“Well, I’m asking now,” she said firmly. “Tell me about them. Tell me what you did with them, and what they said, and what kind of people they were. Emily brushed her daughter’s hair out of her eyes and smiled down at her. “Tell me about your friends.”
PART SEVENTY
July 11, 1947, 7 a.m.
Roswell Sheriff’s Station
Roswell Sheriff Charles Hemming slammed his coffee cup down so hard on the table that coffee slopped out, spattering the folder he had slammed onto the very same table only moments before. The deputy whose unfortunate job it had been to hand him the folder jumped.
“Damn!” Hemming fumed, furious. “This is all I need! As if I don’t already have a three ring circus going on, now my own deputies are climbing up to the high wire and trying to join the act!”
“Er…yes, sir,” the deputy replied, backing up a step.
Hemming sighed. “Fine way to start a Friday morning. Where is he?”
“In your office, Sheriff.”
“Who else knows about this?”
“Only me,” the deputy replied nervously. “I…I haven’t filed that yet. Didn’t even make a copy. I thought you should see it first.”
“Thank God,” Hemming muttered. “I’m glad at least some of my men have some sense.” He waggled a finger in the deputy’s face. “Not a word to anyone about this, you hear? Not one word!”
“Not a word,” the deputy repeated, wide eyed. He turned to leave, then paused. “Sheriff, perhaps….well….I just wanted to point out….”
Hemming grabbed a napkin and wiped off his dripping coffee cup. “What is it? Spit it out! I haven’t got all day! Especially now,” he grumbled, with a withering look at the folder on the table.
“Well…all that’s been going on is bound to affect us too, Sheriff. We’re only human.”
Sheriff Hemming fixed beady eyes on him, and the deputy momentarily quailed. “I just thought you might want to keep that in mind, sir,” he finished in a rush, then left quickly before the Sheriff could reply.
“Is that so?” Hemming muttered after the rapidly retreating deputy. “We’re paid to not be affected by all this nonsense. We’re supposed to be the sane ones.”
Hemming gave an exasperated snort, grabbed the folder and his coffee, and headed down the hall to his office, slamming the door behind him, making the figure seated in front of his desk flinch. Striding to his chair, he plopped down and tossed the troublesome folder across his desk. “Explain yourself!”
Seated stiffly in the chair, hands massaging the arm rests, Deputy Valenti hesitated. “Explain…I already gave a statement, Sheriff. Which part do you want me to explain?”
“Explain to me why you thought for even one second that I’d buy this cockamamie story!”
Valenti swallowed. “That’s not a ‘story’, sir. That’s the truth. That’s what happened.”
Hemming sat back in his chair. “Deputy, you do realize what’s going on out there, don’t you?”
Valenti cast a puzzled glance in the direction of the window. “No. Why? Did something hap…”
“You know what I mean!” Hemming roared, making Valenti flinch again. “I’ve got a population in a panic! I’ve got an Army that says it had something, then turned around hours later and said it didn’t—after the damage was done. I’ve got phones ringing off the hook with reports of aliens everywhere. As we speak, I can confidently guarantee that at least three dozen people in town are convinced there is an alien ship hanging over their house or crashed in their backyard. A bunch more are convinced they found a piece of such a ship, or, better yet, a piece of an actual alien! There are aliens everywhere, Deputy! They’re in bedrooms, boardrooms, bordellos, and beauty parlors. They’re in dry cleaners, deli’s, department stores, and dentist’s offices. I’ve got reports of aliens coming in from all over Roswell, and now I’m told there’s one more place I need to look—the back seat of your car!”
Valenti was gripping the arms of his chair so hard his knuckles were beginning to turn white, but he said nothing.
“It’s my job to ensure the public’s safety,” Hemming continued, rising from his chair and beginning to pace. “It’s my job to keep people from panicking. It’s my job to restore a sense of order and common sense. And how, pray tell, am I supposed to do that when my own employees are losing it?”
“Sheriff, I swear, that’s the God’s honest truth,” Valenti objected, pointing to the folder on the desk. “That’s what I saw. That’s what I remember. I…”
“You were found passed out face down on the steering wheel, with eight empty bottles of beer in your car,” Hemming interrupted. “After eight bottles of beer, I’m more than a little surprised you remember anything.”
“I wasn’t drinking!” Valenti retorted, his face flushing. “I said that! I…”
“Yes, I know you said that,” Hemming spat. “You weren’t drinking, and you have no idea where those beer bottles came from. Here’s a thought—how about your refrigerator? That is the brand of beer you drink, you know.”
“Here’s another thought!” Valenti flared, rising to his feet. “Why would I make up a story like that? If I were going to invent a tale, wouldn’t you think I’d at least be smart enough to invent one that people would believe?”
“Normally, I would think so,” Hemming replied soberly. “Now, I’m not so sure.”
The two men stared each other down for a moment before Hemming broke the silence. “Sit down, Jim.”
“Sheriff, I…”
“I said, sit down.”
Reluctantly, Valenti sat, eyes still blazing.
Sinking into his own chair, Hemming drummed his fingers on the arms for a moment before speaking in a slightly calmer tone. “Look, Jim. Pretty soon I’ll start grooming one of you to take over this job when I retire. And I think you’d make an excellent Sheriff. But you can’t pull stunts like this without fessing up. It’s bad enough that one of my deputies was found passed out drunk in his car, and this..”—he indicated the report on the desk— “…this just makes it worse.”
“I was not drinking!” Valenti ground out.
“There’s no need for this!” Hemming protested. “I know it doesn’t look good, but you weren’t doing anything illegal. You weren’t on duty, you weren’t in uniform, you weren’t in a patrol car. You were parked, not driving. It’s mighty weird to go sit out in a car and get sloshed all by yourself, but drinking ain’t illegal. This kind of thing has never happened with you before, and if you’re smart, you’ll never let it happen again. I really don’t think one little incident like this would ruin your chances for the job. There’s no need to go jumping on the alien bandwagon trying to cover your ass.”
Valenti gave a snort of impatience. “Sheriff, would you consider just for one second, just one second, that what I’m saying is true? You know I’m no liar, and you know damned well that was no weather balloon up on that ranch!”
“No, it wasn’t,” Hemming replied sharply. “But I don’t know what it really was, and the Army’s not talking. I do know that they have officially denied that whatever they found was of extraterrestrial origin, and they will be most displeased if a deputy in my employ is going around saying they’re lying.”
“But what if it was a spaceship?” Valenti persisted. “You said it was our job to protect the public safety. We have a right to know what’s really going on. We have to know in order to do our jobs.”
Hemming leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “Fine. There was an alien in the back seat of your car. So—what did this alien do?”
“It’s all there in the report, sir.”
“Oh, yes. The report.” Hemming reached for the folder and flipped it open. “Let’s see…you say the alien blinked your headlights?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“Well, isn’t that special?” Hemming interrupted, his eyes wide in mock surprise. “It turned on your lights all by itself? A three year-old could do that! Very scary stuff, Jim. Very alien.”
“I know that wasn’t especially weird,” Valenti said impatiently, but.....”
“And then the apparently invisible alien took your keys,” Hemming interrupted. “Is that right?”
Valenti’s fingers curled on the arms of the chair. “My keys just vanished! One minute they were in the ignition, next minute they weren’t anywhere inside the car or out.”
“We found your keys in the ignition, Jim.”
“They weren’t there when I saw that thing in the mirror!”
“Great. Now you’re seeing things that aren’t there, and you’re not seeing things that are there,” Hemming deadpanned.
“It took my gun,” Valenti said desperately.
“Your gun was in the glove compartment.”
“But it wasn’t there!” Valenti protested. “I looked!”
“And you didn’t find it after consuming eight bottles of beer?” Hemming said dryly. “Imagine that.”
“I wasn’t drinking!” Valenti shouted, finally losing his temper.
“Then where did the beer bottles come from?” Hemming thundered back.
“I don’t know! It must have put them there!”
“Oh, I see. The alien put them there,” Hemming said sarcastically.
“What about the coyote?” Valenti demanded desperately.
“What about it?” Hemming retorted. “There was a coyote attack here just last weekend. You investigated it yourself. You do remember that, don’t you?”
“Of course I remember it! But this one was acting strangely. It’s.....it’s like it was herding me toward my car.”
Hemming shook his head impatiently. “You said it looked like it might attack you. That’s what wild animals do, Jim. That’s why we call them ‘wild’.”
Valenti shook his head furiously. “But what if it wasn’t really a coyote?”
“What, now the coyote is the alien?” Hemming said in astonishment. “Honestly, this just gets better and better! I suppose I should thank God for small favors that the alien isn’t invisible any more. But why would aliens look like coyotes?”
“Maybe......I don’t know, maybe the alien was controlling a coyote,” Valenti said, exasperated. “Or maybe they can make you think they look like coyotes. It’s the perfect disguise! Coyotes are the only animals that are plentiful around here and known to kill humans.”
“But it didn’t kill you,” Hemming pointed out.
“Exactly!” Valenti said triumphantly. “Why not? A real coyote would have tried!”
“So now the coyote’s an alien because it didn’t kill you? And it put eight empty bottles of beer in your car?” Hemming shook his head in disbelief. “You know, I thought this couldn’t get any worse, but I was wrong. Why in the name of God would an alien be even the slightest bit interested in framing you with eight empty bottles of beer? And why didn’t it kill you? According to your ‘report’, it certainly had the opportunity.”
“I don’t…..” Valenti stopped suddenly, staring off into space. “That’s it,” he said softly.
Hemming looked blank. “What’s it?”
“It could’ve killed me,” Valenti said slowly, “but it was too smart for that. Killing me would have called attention to itself; that would have left a body, or a missing person. It didn’t want me dead…it just didn’t want me interfering,” he whispered, completely ignoring the Sheriff, who was rolling his eyes. “It disabled my car, disarmed me, kept me from leaving, and finally intervened when I got the car started anyway.” He paused, eyes wide. “It was protecting them.”
“Protecting whom?” Hemming demanded.
Valenti jerked his head up as though he had momentarily forgotten the Sheriff was there. Hemming’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t you see?” Valenti said earnestly. “If it can discredit me, it can also discredit any other reports like this, at least up to a point. I’m worth more to it alive and discredited then dead and silent.”
“So now you think the alien is trying to discredit you? Fine. Allow me to be the instrument of its failure.”
Hemming removed the report from the folder and ceremoniously ripped it in half, then again into quarters.
“This never happened,” Hemming announced. “Your fellow deputy never found you slumped over your steering wheel with eight empty bottles of beer in your car. You never went off the deep end insisting you were being chased by aliens with a personal vendetta against you. We never had this conversation. Is that clear?”
Valenti swallowed visibly. “Yes, sir.”
“And furthermore,” Hemming went on, standing up and leaning forward, hands resting on his desk, “this bullshit stops here. Don’t get yourself into situations where you feel you have to act like a dimwit in order to save your ass. I don’t want to hear another word out of you about spaceships, or aliens, or alien coyotes. You copy?”
“Copy,” Valenti echoed, his mouth set in a hard line.
Hemming’s face softened a bit. “You’re a good deputy, Jim. You’d make a good Sheriff. Don’t screw all of that up by acting like those nutcases you’re always going on about, the ones with Jesus in the outhouse and vampires in the bathtub.
“It was Jesus in the bathtub, and vampires in the outhouse.”
“Whatever!” Hemming said sharply. “Just don’t get yourself painted with that same brush. You’re supposed to prevent public panic, not foster it.”
“I’m also supposed to uphold the truth, aren’t I?” Valenti asked angrily. “Whatever truth that may be, even if some people don’t want to hear it? Or even if it makes me look crazy?”
“Jim, sometimes the truth doesn’t want to be found.”
“What if I want to find it anyway?”
“Then you risk ruining your career,” Hemming said firmly. “Look, I won’t be able to pull this off again. You do this again, you go down for it. So whatever you decide to do in your pursuit of the ‘truth’, make sure you keep it completely to yourself.”
“I’ll do that sir,” Valenti replied. He stood up. “Will that be all?”
“It’s been more than enough already,” Hemming said darkly. “Too much, in fact. Take the day off, Jim. Think about what I said.”
Valenti nodded curtly, and left the office.
Sheriff Hemming leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “Alien coyotes,” he muttered. Jesus. It wasn’t even 8 a.m. yet, and already he needed a drink.
*************************************************************
7:10 a.m.
Proctor residence
Yawning, David Proctor headed down the back stairs toward the kitchen. He’d been so exhausted last night that he’d slept soundly, which fortunately meant no more dreams watching Christianson fall from that fence. Unfortunately, the reason he’d slept soundly also meant that he’d slept far too little. He was going to have trouble staying awake today for sure.
“Sleep well?” David asked, as he reached the kitchen where Emily was cooking breakfast.
“Like the dead. No pun intended,” Emily answered. “Is Dee still asleep?”
David nodded. “But someone else isn’t.” He looked around the kitchen. “Where is he?”
Emily gestured toward the back porch. “In there.”
“Is he all right?”
“Seems to be,” Emily answered, stirring the scrambled eggs. “In fact, I’d say he looks better than I’ve ever seen him. Maybe in some ways that enforced deep sleep was good for him.”
“Did he say anything?”
Emily shook her head. “He just appeared, and looked at me, and I pointed, and off he went. Not a word. Didn’t even say ‘thank you’,” she added.
“He probably will later,” David said, staring out the kitchen window at the Brazel’s empty house. “But that wouldn’t be the first thing on his mind. If there was one thing I learned from whatever happened between us last night, it’s that he has one purpose and one purpose only—to keep those babies alive any way he can.”
Emily gave him a skeptical look. “You’re an alien psychologist now, are you?”
“You didn’t see what I saw,” David said soberly. “It was awful.”
Emily stopped feeding bread into the toaster. “What did you see?”
David continued to stare out the window, his eyes glassy, as if he were looking into a different world. “It was a surprise attack….a massacre…..blood everywhere, bodies everywhere. They were pulling the bodies of the people they had guarded behind them, onto the ship, and his hands kept slipping because his person was a mess. Beaten to a bloody pulp. It was…” He paused, as if at a loss for words to describe what he had seen.
Emily pushed the lever on the toaster down. “Was it worse than what you went through?”
“Yes,” David said slowly. “Because it was…personal.”
“Personal?”
“It’s hard to describe,” David said, “but I didn’t just see what he was seeing. I felt what he was feeling. And what he was feeling was a sense of personal loss that I’ve never felt. All the time I was overseas, my little world here was secure. I knew you and Dee were safe, I knew the States probably wouldn’t be touched. But his world fell apart. I’ve never experienced that kind of devastation. I hope I never have to.”
The toaster popped. David watched Emily butter the toast before speaking again. “I think I understand them better now, Em. Imagine if Hitler had come here and taken over our country, and killed the people you loved most. How would you feel?”
A long moment passed before Emily answered. “I would probably go mad,” she said quietly.
“Then let’s congratulate them,” David said, heading toward the back porch. “All they’ve done so far is get on our nerves and break a window. All thing’s considered, I’d say they’re doing pretty well.”
“Wait,” Emily called as he headed out of the room. “I found this in your pants pocket when I was folding laundry this morning.” As she spoke, she pulled something out of the pocket of her robe and held it out for him to see. “It belongs to them, doesn’t it?”
Dangling from her hand was a pendant with the swirling symbol on it, the same pendant that the sheriff’s deputy had found in the trunk of his car the night David had helped them move. “It’s theirs,” David confirmed. “I slipped it into my pocket. Must have forgotten it.” He reached for the necklace, but his hand froze halfway there, tense and rigid.
“What’s wrong?” Emily asked in alarm.
“I know this!” David exclaimed. “It’s familiar now!”
Emily looked confused. “I know you know it,” she said a little uncertainly. “You said you put it in your pocket when…”
“That’s not what I mean,” David said, taking the pendant from her and staring at it, wide eyed. “I remember it from all the things I was seeing last night through Jaddo.” He paused. “This was hers.”
“Hers?”
“The Princess. The one Urza guarded. This was hers. It was around her neck when they pulled her body away.”
Emily stared at him. “Remind me to thank him for not showing me the movies,” she said warily. “None of them sound good.”
“There’s more,” David said, screwing his eyes shut. “I can see him giving it to her…putting it around her neck….I know him…his name is…is…” He paused a moment, then opened his eyes. “Rath.”
“Why are you seeing all this now?” Emily asked in a voice that bordered on alarm. “You’re not touching him now. Where is all this coming from?”
David fingered the pendant and shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe you should go talk to him about what happened,” Emily said, concerned. She walked over to the stove and poured two cups of coffee. “Here,” she said, pressing them into David’s hands. “One for each of you. You probably both need it.”
*************************************************************
David found Jaddo on the back porch, squatting beside one of the sacs. He had pulled the blanket aside, revealing a dull, cheerless light that contrasted sharply with what David remembered from last night as a brilliant glow.
“Is it just me, or doesn’t that one look very good?” David asked, setting the cup of coffee down on the floor beside Jaddo.
Jaddo glanced up at him, his face a mask of concern. Emily was right—he looked stronger, well rested. “We will likely lose this one,” he said heavily, looking at the dully glowing sac.
“Because of something we did?”asked David, sitting down in a nearby chair.
Jaddo shook his head. “All of the sacs were in incubators that lost power when we crashed. We restored power, but some were irreparably damaged. Now they have been removed prematurely again, and it is inevitable that more will be affected. Still….” His voice trailed off.
“It’s hard to watch,” David finished for him.
Jaddo shot him a wary look. They locked eyes.
“Yes,” Jaddo finally admitted, in a voice that made it clear he was uncertain whether to admit that. “It is very hard to watch.”
David held out the pendant. “Emily found this. It was in the trunk of my car the night I helped you moved the rest of those,” he said, indicating the sacs with a nod of his head. “I put it in my pocket and completely forgot about it.”
Jaddo’s face paled when he saw the pendant. He looked at it a long moment before taking it from David. “Thank you.”
David sipped his coffee. “He gave it to her, didn’t he?”
Jaddo didn’t look at him. He was looking at the pendant, and for a moment, David thought perhaps he hadn’t heard. “Yes,” he finally whispered.
“It was night time,” David said, closing his eyes, as images swam before them. “They were in…some sort of garden, with a pond, or small lake. All three moons were full. It was her birthday present…..”
David paused; he knew that woman’s name. It was right on the tip of his tongue….
“Vilandra.”
David opened his eyes to find Jaddo staring at him uncomfortably. He dropped his eyes when David’s met his.
“How did I know that?” David whispered.
When Jaddo spoke, his voice was hoarse. He sounded like one who was making a confession. “Last night, I formed a telepathic connection with you,” he said, still not looking at David. “It is something all races on my planet can do, to one degree or another. It enables us to share thoughts and experiences with one another.”
“And feelings,” David murmured.
Jaddo shot him a sidelong glance. “And feelings,” he confirmed reluctantly. “It is…it is an intimate form of communication usually reserved for those closest to you. I risked it last night because I was too weak to speak, and had no other way to communicate.”
“ ‘Risked’ it?” David asked.
“I wasn’t certain if you would be capable of receiving what I was sending,” Jaddo explained, still looking supremely uncomfortable. “Normally one can control what thoughts are visible, but in my weakened state, I could not do that. I was unable to edit or organize my thoughts, and given what has been on my mind of late, I knew what whomever I connected with would be likely to see.” He hesitated. “I am certain I could have formed a connection with either your daughter or your mate, but I chose you because you had been a soldier. You were more likely to understand what you would see, to make sense of it.”
“I’m very grateful you didn’t show all that to my daughter,” David admitted.
Jaddo expression hardened. “I would have, if I’d had to.”
“I know you would have,” David said quietly. “So… you have to touch someone to form this… ‘connection’?”
“Usually.”
“So whenever you people touch each other, you form a connection? No one keeps their own thoughts private?”
“Connection is a consensual event,” Jaddo said, and here he looked uncomfortable again. “It can be blocked if one does not consent. Forcing connection against someone’s will is akin to what you would term ‘rape’. I…was not able to seek your consent last night.”
“No, no, it’s all right,” David said hastily, reacting to Jaddo’s apologetic tone even though no apology had actually been offered. “I’m just confused. I remembered that bit about the pendant when Emily showed it to me just now in the kitchen. But we weren’t touching then—what happened?”
“My thoughts were jumbled,” Jaddo said, still looking away. “I wasn’t able to show you only what you needed to know. You saw a great deal, most of which you probably weren’t able to process at the time, but it was still transmitted. In the future, something—like the pendant—may trigger more of the memories you saw.”
David nodded slowly. For some reason he had the nagging feeling that Jaddo wasn’t telling him everything. “So is this going to happen now whenever I touch someone?”
“No. You would need to touch someone capable of—and willing to—form a telepathic connection. You did not form it, you merely received it.”
“Good,” David said with obvious relief. While this “telepathic connection” had served its purpose last night, he was in no hurry to repeat the experience. “So—I assume you want to move these after dark?” he asked, indicating the sacs on the floor.
Jaddo nodded. “Yes. Then I will attempt to free Brivari.”
“Is that wise?” David asked, remembering Private Spade’s warning. “They’ll be waiting for you. They’ll know right where you’re headed.”
“Of course they will,” Jaddo said darkly. “And I know how they will attempt to subdue me, so I am one step ahead of them.”
“He might get out on his own,” David said. “I doubt they’ll be able to hold him once he wakes up.”
Jaddo shot him an appraising look. “You were a soldier. What would you do?”
David hesitated for a moment. “I’d go back,” he admitted. “I’d go back, come hell or high water.” He smiled slightly. Here he was, giving advice that he wouldn’t follow himself.
“Besides,” Jaddo added, “I do not wish to be alone in this strange place.”
But you’re not alone, David thought. Should he tell him about the others of his kind now that Brivari was captured? He had spoken of that to no one but Dee, not even Emily. She’d had enough to swallow lately without being told that there was a war on yet another front. They had heard nothing, seen nothing that would indicate the others were back. And Brivari was no fool—if he suspected Jaddo of treason, he must have his reasons, although David was even more certain now than he had been before that this was not likely to be the case.
No, he finally decided. He would stay out of it. That seemed the wisest course of action.
“Well,” David said. “I need to get going.” He picked up his coffee cup and headed for the kitchen.
“Did your men make it over the fence, David Proctor?”
David stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”
Jaddo looked him directly in the eye. “I said, did your men make it over the fence?”
“What fence?”
“The fence that you and the other human soldiers were heading toward when I first established the connection. You were under attack, and attempting to climb a fence to escape.”
It took David a moment to realize exactly what this meant, and when he did, his heart began to pound.
“This ‘connection’…it goes both ways, doesn’t it?”
Jaddo looked away and nodded. “I was too weak to see much. But I did see the dream you were having.”
For a split second, David could see why Jaddo’s people considered a nonconsensual connection to be rape. He felt invaded, violated. The idea that someone had been leafing through the file cabinets in his own mind was disquieting, to say the least.
“Uh....yeah,” he replied uncertainly, not quite certain how to take this latest revelation. “Most of them made it over the fence.”
“But one didn’t.”
“Christianson,” David said, his throat tightening at the memory. “He was just a kid. Only eighteen.”
“He was captured.”
“He was,” David admitted. “On my watch.”
“I saw him fall,” Jaddo said softly. “I saw what they did to him.”
David closed his eyes. He said nothing.
“You blame yourself for this.”
“Yeah,” David said heavily, “Yeah I do. Just like you blame yourself for that guy who stood all alone at the gate.”
Jaddo’s head whipped around, his eyes burning into David’s, and suddenly David realized he wasn’t the only one feeling violated. This intensely private, intense individual had just made a relative stranger, and a human, no less, privy to some of his most private thoughts. And not just his thoughts, but his regrets. His fears. His embarrassments. His guilt. Everything anyone wouldn’t want anyone else to see.
Jaddo stared at him silently for a long minute before turning his attention back to the sacs without replying. David slipped out the porch door, deciding not to press this particular issue any further. Not yet, anyway. The image of that lone figure standing before the gate behind which an army seethed was powerful, as was the regret that accompanied it. And even though the figure in the image was alien—short, gray, large-headed—the situation was not. Replace the alien with a human, and the result would be instantly recognizable to anyone on planet Earth.
Be it Christianson or whoever had stood at Jaddo’s gate, it appeared guilt was a universal constant.
July 11, 1947, 7 a.m.
Roswell Sheriff’s Station
Roswell Sheriff Charles Hemming slammed his coffee cup down so hard on the table that coffee slopped out, spattering the folder he had slammed onto the very same table only moments before. The deputy whose unfortunate job it had been to hand him the folder jumped.
“Damn!” Hemming fumed, furious. “This is all I need! As if I don’t already have a three ring circus going on, now my own deputies are climbing up to the high wire and trying to join the act!”
“Er…yes, sir,” the deputy replied, backing up a step.
Hemming sighed. “Fine way to start a Friday morning. Where is he?”
“In your office, Sheriff.”
“Who else knows about this?”
“Only me,” the deputy replied nervously. “I…I haven’t filed that yet. Didn’t even make a copy. I thought you should see it first.”
“Thank God,” Hemming muttered. “I’m glad at least some of my men have some sense.” He waggled a finger in the deputy’s face. “Not a word to anyone about this, you hear? Not one word!”
“Not a word,” the deputy repeated, wide eyed. He turned to leave, then paused. “Sheriff, perhaps….well….I just wanted to point out….”
Hemming grabbed a napkin and wiped off his dripping coffee cup. “What is it? Spit it out! I haven’t got all day! Especially now,” he grumbled, with a withering look at the folder on the table.
“Well…all that’s been going on is bound to affect us too, Sheriff. We’re only human.”
Sheriff Hemming fixed beady eyes on him, and the deputy momentarily quailed. “I just thought you might want to keep that in mind, sir,” he finished in a rush, then left quickly before the Sheriff could reply.
“Is that so?” Hemming muttered after the rapidly retreating deputy. “We’re paid to not be affected by all this nonsense. We’re supposed to be the sane ones.”
Hemming gave an exasperated snort, grabbed the folder and his coffee, and headed down the hall to his office, slamming the door behind him, making the figure seated in front of his desk flinch. Striding to his chair, he plopped down and tossed the troublesome folder across his desk. “Explain yourself!”
Seated stiffly in the chair, hands massaging the arm rests, Deputy Valenti hesitated. “Explain…I already gave a statement, Sheriff. Which part do you want me to explain?”
“Explain to me why you thought for even one second that I’d buy this cockamamie story!”
Valenti swallowed. “That’s not a ‘story’, sir. That’s the truth. That’s what happened.”
Hemming sat back in his chair. “Deputy, you do realize what’s going on out there, don’t you?”
Valenti cast a puzzled glance in the direction of the window. “No. Why? Did something hap…”
“You know what I mean!” Hemming roared, making Valenti flinch again. “I’ve got a population in a panic! I’ve got an Army that says it had something, then turned around hours later and said it didn’t—after the damage was done. I’ve got phones ringing off the hook with reports of aliens everywhere. As we speak, I can confidently guarantee that at least three dozen people in town are convinced there is an alien ship hanging over their house or crashed in their backyard. A bunch more are convinced they found a piece of such a ship, or, better yet, a piece of an actual alien! There are aliens everywhere, Deputy! They’re in bedrooms, boardrooms, bordellos, and beauty parlors. They’re in dry cleaners, deli’s, department stores, and dentist’s offices. I’ve got reports of aliens coming in from all over Roswell, and now I’m told there’s one more place I need to look—the back seat of your car!”
Valenti was gripping the arms of his chair so hard his knuckles were beginning to turn white, but he said nothing.
“It’s my job to ensure the public’s safety,” Hemming continued, rising from his chair and beginning to pace. “It’s my job to keep people from panicking. It’s my job to restore a sense of order and common sense. And how, pray tell, am I supposed to do that when my own employees are losing it?”
“Sheriff, I swear, that’s the God’s honest truth,” Valenti objected, pointing to the folder on the desk. “That’s what I saw. That’s what I remember. I…”
“You were found passed out face down on the steering wheel, with eight empty bottles of beer in your car,” Hemming interrupted. “After eight bottles of beer, I’m more than a little surprised you remember anything.”
“I wasn’t drinking!” Valenti retorted, his face flushing. “I said that! I…”
“Yes, I know you said that,” Hemming spat. “You weren’t drinking, and you have no idea where those beer bottles came from. Here’s a thought—how about your refrigerator? That is the brand of beer you drink, you know.”
“Here’s another thought!” Valenti flared, rising to his feet. “Why would I make up a story like that? If I were going to invent a tale, wouldn’t you think I’d at least be smart enough to invent one that people would believe?”
“Normally, I would think so,” Hemming replied soberly. “Now, I’m not so sure.”
The two men stared each other down for a moment before Hemming broke the silence. “Sit down, Jim.”
“Sheriff, I…”
“I said, sit down.”
Reluctantly, Valenti sat, eyes still blazing.
Sinking into his own chair, Hemming drummed his fingers on the arms for a moment before speaking in a slightly calmer tone. “Look, Jim. Pretty soon I’ll start grooming one of you to take over this job when I retire. And I think you’d make an excellent Sheriff. But you can’t pull stunts like this without fessing up. It’s bad enough that one of my deputies was found passed out drunk in his car, and this..”—he indicated the report on the desk— “…this just makes it worse.”
“I was not drinking!” Valenti ground out.
“There’s no need for this!” Hemming protested. “I know it doesn’t look good, but you weren’t doing anything illegal. You weren’t on duty, you weren’t in uniform, you weren’t in a patrol car. You were parked, not driving. It’s mighty weird to go sit out in a car and get sloshed all by yourself, but drinking ain’t illegal. This kind of thing has never happened with you before, and if you’re smart, you’ll never let it happen again. I really don’t think one little incident like this would ruin your chances for the job. There’s no need to go jumping on the alien bandwagon trying to cover your ass.”
Valenti gave a snort of impatience. “Sheriff, would you consider just for one second, just one second, that what I’m saying is true? You know I’m no liar, and you know damned well that was no weather balloon up on that ranch!”
“No, it wasn’t,” Hemming replied sharply. “But I don’t know what it really was, and the Army’s not talking. I do know that they have officially denied that whatever they found was of extraterrestrial origin, and they will be most displeased if a deputy in my employ is going around saying they’re lying.”
“But what if it was a spaceship?” Valenti persisted. “You said it was our job to protect the public safety. We have a right to know what’s really going on. We have to know in order to do our jobs.”
Hemming leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “Fine. There was an alien in the back seat of your car. So—what did this alien do?”
“It’s all there in the report, sir.”
“Oh, yes. The report.” Hemming reached for the folder and flipped it open. “Let’s see…you say the alien blinked your headlights?”
“That’s right, sir.”
“Well, isn’t that special?” Hemming interrupted, his eyes wide in mock surprise. “It turned on your lights all by itself? A three year-old could do that! Very scary stuff, Jim. Very alien.”
“I know that wasn’t especially weird,” Valenti said impatiently, but.....”
“And then the apparently invisible alien took your keys,” Hemming interrupted. “Is that right?”
Valenti’s fingers curled on the arms of the chair. “My keys just vanished! One minute they were in the ignition, next minute they weren’t anywhere inside the car or out.”
“We found your keys in the ignition, Jim.”
“They weren’t there when I saw that thing in the mirror!”
“Great. Now you’re seeing things that aren’t there, and you’re not seeing things that are there,” Hemming deadpanned.
“It took my gun,” Valenti said desperately.
“Your gun was in the glove compartment.”
“But it wasn’t there!” Valenti protested. “I looked!”
“And you didn’t find it after consuming eight bottles of beer?” Hemming said dryly. “Imagine that.”
“I wasn’t drinking!” Valenti shouted, finally losing his temper.
“Then where did the beer bottles come from?” Hemming thundered back.
“I don’t know! It must have put them there!”
“Oh, I see. The alien put them there,” Hemming said sarcastically.
“What about the coyote?” Valenti demanded desperately.
“What about it?” Hemming retorted. “There was a coyote attack here just last weekend. You investigated it yourself. You do remember that, don’t you?”
“Of course I remember it! But this one was acting strangely. It’s.....it’s like it was herding me toward my car.”
Hemming shook his head impatiently. “You said it looked like it might attack you. That’s what wild animals do, Jim. That’s why we call them ‘wild’.”
Valenti shook his head furiously. “But what if it wasn’t really a coyote?”
“What, now the coyote is the alien?” Hemming said in astonishment. “Honestly, this just gets better and better! I suppose I should thank God for small favors that the alien isn’t invisible any more. But why would aliens look like coyotes?”
“Maybe......I don’t know, maybe the alien was controlling a coyote,” Valenti said, exasperated. “Or maybe they can make you think they look like coyotes. It’s the perfect disguise! Coyotes are the only animals that are plentiful around here and known to kill humans.”
“But it didn’t kill you,” Hemming pointed out.
“Exactly!” Valenti said triumphantly. “Why not? A real coyote would have tried!”
“So now the coyote’s an alien because it didn’t kill you? And it put eight empty bottles of beer in your car?” Hemming shook his head in disbelief. “You know, I thought this couldn’t get any worse, but I was wrong. Why in the name of God would an alien be even the slightest bit interested in framing you with eight empty bottles of beer? And why didn’t it kill you? According to your ‘report’, it certainly had the opportunity.”
“I don’t…..” Valenti stopped suddenly, staring off into space. “That’s it,” he said softly.
Hemming looked blank. “What’s it?”
“It could’ve killed me,” Valenti said slowly, “but it was too smart for that. Killing me would have called attention to itself; that would have left a body, or a missing person. It didn’t want me dead…it just didn’t want me interfering,” he whispered, completely ignoring the Sheriff, who was rolling his eyes. “It disabled my car, disarmed me, kept me from leaving, and finally intervened when I got the car started anyway.” He paused, eyes wide. “It was protecting them.”
“Protecting whom?” Hemming demanded.
Valenti jerked his head up as though he had momentarily forgotten the Sheriff was there. Hemming’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t you see?” Valenti said earnestly. “If it can discredit me, it can also discredit any other reports like this, at least up to a point. I’m worth more to it alive and discredited then dead and silent.”
“So now you think the alien is trying to discredit you? Fine. Allow me to be the instrument of its failure.”
Hemming removed the report from the folder and ceremoniously ripped it in half, then again into quarters.
“This never happened,” Hemming announced. “Your fellow deputy never found you slumped over your steering wheel with eight empty bottles of beer in your car. You never went off the deep end insisting you were being chased by aliens with a personal vendetta against you. We never had this conversation. Is that clear?”
Valenti swallowed visibly. “Yes, sir.”
“And furthermore,” Hemming went on, standing up and leaning forward, hands resting on his desk, “this bullshit stops here. Don’t get yourself into situations where you feel you have to act like a dimwit in order to save your ass. I don’t want to hear another word out of you about spaceships, or aliens, or alien coyotes. You copy?”
“Copy,” Valenti echoed, his mouth set in a hard line.
Hemming’s face softened a bit. “You’re a good deputy, Jim. You’d make a good Sheriff. Don’t screw all of that up by acting like those nutcases you’re always going on about, the ones with Jesus in the outhouse and vampires in the bathtub.
“It was Jesus in the bathtub, and vampires in the outhouse.”
“Whatever!” Hemming said sharply. “Just don’t get yourself painted with that same brush. You’re supposed to prevent public panic, not foster it.”
“I’m also supposed to uphold the truth, aren’t I?” Valenti asked angrily. “Whatever truth that may be, even if some people don’t want to hear it? Or even if it makes me look crazy?”
“Jim, sometimes the truth doesn’t want to be found.”
“What if I want to find it anyway?”
“Then you risk ruining your career,” Hemming said firmly. “Look, I won’t be able to pull this off again. You do this again, you go down for it. So whatever you decide to do in your pursuit of the ‘truth’, make sure you keep it completely to yourself.”
“I’ll do that sir,” Valenti replied. He stood up. “Will that be all?”
“It’s been more than enough already,” Hemming said darkly. “Too much, in fact. Take the day off, Jim. Think about what I said.”
Valenti nodded curtly, and left the office.
Sheriff Hemming leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “Alien coyotes,” he muttered. Jesus. It wasn’t even 8 a.m. yet, and already he needed a drink.
*************************************************************
7:10 a.m.
Proctor residence
Yawning, David Proctor headed down the back stairs toward the kitchen. He’d been so exhausted last night that he’d slept soundly, which fortunately meant no more dreams watching Christianson fall from that fence. Unfortunately, the reason he’d slept soundly also meant that he’d slept far too little. He was going to have trouble staying awake today for sure.
“Sleep well?” David asked, as he reached the kitchen where Emily was cooking breakfast.
“Like the dead. No pun intended,” Emily answered. “Is Dee still asleep?”
David nodded. “But someone else isn’t.” He looked around the kitchen. “Where is he?”
Emily gestured toward the back porch. “In there.”
“Is he all right?”
“Seems to be,” Emily answered, stirring the scrambled eggs. “In fact, I’d say he looks better than I’ve ever seen him. Maybe in some ways that enforced deep sleep was good for him.”
“Did he say anything?”
Emily shook her head. “He just appeared, and looked at me, and I pointed, and off he went. Not a word. Didn’t even say ‘thank you’,” she added.
“He probably will later,” David said, staring out the kitchen window at the Brazel’s empty house. “But that wouldn’t be the first thing on his mind. If there was one thing I learned from whatever happened between us last night, it’s that he has one purpose and one purpose only—to keep those babies alive any way he can.”
Emily gave him a skeptical look. “You’re an alien psychologist now, are you?”
“You didn’t see what I saw,” David said soberly. “It was awful.”
Emily stopped feeding bread into the toaster. “What did you see?”
David continued to stare out the window, his eyes glassy, as if he were looking into a different world. “It was a surprise attack….a massacre…..blood everywhere, bodies everywhere. They were pulling the bodies of the people they had guarded behind them, onto the ship, and his hands kept slipping because his person was a mess. Beaten to a bloody pulp. It was…” He paused, as if at a loss for words to describe what he had seen.
Emily pushed the lever on the toaster down. “Was it worse than what you went through?”
“Yes,” David said slowly. “Because it was…personal.”
“Personal?”
“It’s hard to describe,” David said, “but I didn’t just see what he was seeing. I felt what he was feeling. And what he was feeling was a sense of personal loss that I’ve never felt. All the time I was overseas, my little world here was secure. I knew you and Dee were safe, I knew the States probably wouldn’t be touched. But his world fell apart. I’ve never experienced that kind of devastation. I hope I never have to.”
The toaster popped. David watched Emily butter the toast before speaking again. “I think I understand them better now, Em. Imagine if Hitler had come here and taken over our country, and killed the people you loved most. How would you feel?”
A long moment passed before Emily answered. “I would probably go mad,” she said quietly.
“Then let’s congratulate them,” David said, heading toward the back porch. “All they’ve done so far is get on our nerves and break a window. All thing’s considered, I’d say they’re doing pretty well.”
“Wait,” Emily called as he headed out of the room. “I found this in your pants pocket when I was folding laundry this morning.” As she spoke, she pulled something out of the pocket of her robe and held it out for him to see. “It belongs to them, doesn’t it?”
Dangling from her hand was a pendant with the swirling symbol on it, the same pendant that the sheriff’s deputy had found in the trunk of his car the night David had helped them move. “It’s theirs,” David confirmed. “I slipped it into my pocket. Must have forgotten it.” He reached for the necklace, but his hand froze halfway there, tense and rigid.
“What’s wrong?” Emily asked in alarm.
“I know this!” David exclaimed. “It’s familiar now!”
Emily looked confused. “I know you know it,” she said a little uncertainly. “You said you put it in your pocket when…”
“That’s not what I mean,” David said, taking the pendant from her and staring at it, wide eyed. “I remember it from all the things I was seeing last night through Jaddo.” He paused. “This was hers.”
“Hers?”
“The Princess. The one Urza guarded. This was hers. It was around her neck when they pulled her body away.”
Emily stared at him. “Remind me to thank him for not showing me the movies,” she said warily. “None of them sound good.”
“There’s more,” David said, screwing his eyes shut. “I can see him giving it to her…putting it around her neck….I know him…his name is…is…” He paused a moment, then opened his eyes. “Rath.”
“Why are you seeing all this now?” Emily asked in a voice that bordered on alarm. “You’re not touching him now. Where is all this coming from?”
David fingered the pendant and shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Maybe you should go talk to him about what happened,” Emily said, concerned. She walked over to the stove and poured two cups of coffee. “Here,” she said, pressing them into David’s hands. “One for each of you. You probably both need it.”
*************************************************************
David found Jaddo on the back porch, squatting beside one of the sacs. He had pulled the blanket aside, revealing a dull, cheerless light that contrasted sharply with what David remembered from last night as a brilliant glow.
“Is it just me, or doesn’t that one look very good?” David asked, setting the cup of coffee down on the floor beside Jaddo.
Jaddo glanced up at him, his face a mask of concern. Emily was right—he looked stronger, well rested. “We will likely lose this one,” he said heavily, looking at the dully glowing sac.
“Because of something we did?”asked David, sitting down in a nearby chair.
Jaddo shook his head. “All of the sacs were in incubators that lost power when we crashed. We restored power, but some were irreparably damaged. Now they have been removed prematurely again, and it is inevitable that more will be affected. Still….” His voice trailed off.
“It’s hard to watch,” David finished for him.
Jaddo shot him a wary look. They locked eyes.
“Yes,” Jaddo finally admitted, in a voice that made it clear he was uncertain whether to admit that. “It is very hard to watch.”
David held out the pendant. “Emily found this. It was in the trunk of my car the night I helped you moved the rest of those,” he said, indicating the sacs with a nod of his head. “I put it in my pocket and completely forgot about it.”
Jaddo’s face paled when he saw the pendant. He looked at it a long moment before taking it from David. “Thank you.”
David sipped his coffee. “He gave it to her, didn’t he?”
Jaddo didn’t look at him. He was looking at the pendant, and for a moment, David thought perhaps he hadn’t heard. “Yes,” he finally whispered.
“It was night time,” David said, closing his eyes, as images swam before them. “They were in…some sort of garden, with a pond, or small lake. All three moons were full. It was her birthday present…..”
David paused; he knew that woman’s name. It was right on the tip of his tongue….
“Vilandra.”
David opened his eyes to find Jaddo staring at him uncomfortably. He dropped his eyes when David’s met his.
“How did I know that?” David whispered.
When Jaddo spoke, his voice was hoarse. He sounded like one who was making a confession. “Last night, I formed a telepathic connection with you,” he said, still not looking at David. “It is something all races on my planet can do, to one degree or another. It enables us to share thoughts and experiences with one another.”
“And feelings,” David murmured.
Jaddo shot him a sidelong glance. “And feelings,” he confirmed reluctantly. “It is…it is an intimate form of communication usually reserved for those closest to you. I risked it last night because I was too weak to speak, and had no other way to communicate.”
“ ‘Risked’ it?” David asked.
“I wasn’t certain if you would be capable of receiving what I was sending,” Jaddo explained, still looking supremely uncomfortable. “Normally one can control what thoughts are visible, but in my weakened state, I could not do that. I was unable to edit or organize my thoughts, and given what has been on my mind of late, I knew what whomever I connected with would be likely to see.” He hesitated. “I am certain I could have formed a connection with either your daughter or your mate, but I chose you because you had been a soldier. You were more likely to understand what you would see, to make sense of it.”
“I’m very grateful you didn’t show all that to my daughter,” David admitted.
Jaddo expression hardened. “I would have, if I’d had to.”
“I know you would have,” David said quietly. “So… you have to touch someone to form this… ‘connection’?”
“Usually.”
“So whenever you people touch each other, you form a connection? No one keeps their own thoughts private?”
“Connection is a consensual event,” Jaddo said, and here he looked uncomfortable again. “It can be blocked if one does not consent. Forcing connection against someone’s will is akin to what you would term ‘rape’. I…was not able to seek your consent last night.”
“No, no, it’s all right,” David said hastily, reacting to Jaddo’s apologetic tone even though no apology had actually been offered. “I’m just confused. I remembered that bit about the pendant when Emily showed it to me just now in the kitchen. But we weren’t touching then—what happened?”
“My thoughts were jumbled,” Jaddo said, still looking away. “I wasn’t able to show you only what you needed to know. You saw a great deal, most of which you probably weren’t able to process at the time, but it was still transmitted. In the future, something—like the pendant—may trigger more of the memories you saw.”
David nodded slowly. For some reason he had the nagging feeling that Jaddo wasn’t telling him everything. “So is this going to happen now whenever I touch someone?”
“No. You would need to touch someone capable of—and willing to—form a telepathic connection. You did not form it, you merely received it.”
“Good,” David said with obvious relief. While this “telepathic connection” had served its purpose last night, he was in no hurry to repeat the experience. “So—I assume you want to move these after dark?” he asked, indicating the sacs on the floor.
Jaddo nodded. “Yes. Then I will attempt to free Brivari.”
“Is that wise?” David asked, remembering Private Spade’s warning. “They’ll be waiting for you. They’ll know right where you’re headed.”
“Of course they will,” Jaddo said darkly. “And I know how they will attempt to subdue me, so I am one step ahead of them.”
“He might get out on his own,” David said. “I doubt they’ll be able to hold him once he wakes up.”
Jaddo shot him an appraising look. “You were a soldier. What would you do?”
David hesitated for a moment. “I’d go back,” he admitted. “I’d go back, come hell or high water.” He smiled slightly. Here he was, giving advice that he wouldn’t follow himself.
“Besides,” Jaddo added, “I do not wish to be alone in this strange place.”
But you’re not alone, David thought. Should he tell him about the others of his kind now that Brivari was captured? He had spoken of that to no one but Dee, not even Emily. She’d had enough to swallow lately without being told that there was a war on yet another front. They had heard nothing, seen nothing that would indicate the others were back. And Brivari was no fool—if he suspected Jaddo of treason, he must have his reasons, although David was even more certain now than he had been before that this was not likely to be the case.
No, he finally decided. He would stay out of it. That seemed the wisest course of action.
“Well,” David said. “I need to get going.” He picked up his coffee cup and headed for the kitchen.
“Did your men make it over the fence, David Proctor?”
David stopped dead in his tracks. “What?”
Jaddo looked him directly in the eye. “I said, did your men make it over the fence?”
“What fence?”
“The fence that you and the other human soldiers were heading toward when I first established the connection. You were under attack, and attempting to climb a fence to escape.”
It took David a moment to realize exactly what this meant, and when he did, his heart began to pound.
“This ‘connection’…it goes both ways, doesn’t it?”
Jaddo looked away and nodded. “I was too weak to see much. But I did see the dream you were having.”
For a split second, David could see why Jaddo’s people considered a nonconsensual connection to be rape. He felt invaded, violated. The idea that someone had been leafing through the file cabinets in his own mind was disquieting, to say the least.
“Uh....yeah,” he replied uncertainly, not quite certain how to take this latest revelation. “Most of them made it over the fence.”
“But one didn’t.”
“Christianson,” David said, his throat tightening at the memory. “He was just a kid. Only eighteen.”
“He was captured.”
“He was,” David admitted. “On my watch.”
“I saw him fall,” Jaddo said softly. “I saw what they did to him.”
David closed his eyes. He said nothing.
“You blame yourself for this.”
“Yeah,” David said heavily, “Yeah I do. Just like you blame yourself for that guy who stood all alone at the gate.”
Jaddo’s head whipped around, his eyes burning into David’s, and suddenly David realized he wasn’t the only one feeling violated. This intensely private, intense individual had just made a relative stranger, and a human, no less, privy to some of his most private thoughts. And not just his thoughts, but his regrets. His fears. His embarrassments. His guilt. Everything anyone wouldn’t want anyone else to see.
Jaddo stared at him silently for a long minute before turning his attention back to the sacs without replying. David slipped out the porch door, deciding not to press this particular issue any further. Not yet, anyway. The image of that lone figure standing before the gate behind which an army seethed was powerful, as was the regret that accompanied it. And even though the figure in the image was alien—short, gray, large-headed—the situation was not. Replace the alien with a human, and the result would be instantly recognizable to anyone on planet Earth.
Be it Christianson or whoever had stood at Jaddo’s gate, it appeared guilt was a universal constant.
Last edited by Kathy W on Sun Nov 28, 2004 3:43 pm, edited 1 time in total.