"We've got her now," said Jim Valenti as he reached the bottom of the arroyo and saw the taillights of the jeep continuing to head west. "If she can find a way to climb up on the road, Posner and his partner will get her. At the speed she's going, she probably won't be able to find a way out of the arroyo, and even if she does we'll be right behind her. This pursuit is damn near over."
Isabel was thinking just about the same thing as she approached the old Clovis road. The patrol car had slowed up - obviously waiting to see if she could find some way up on to the road - ready to pounce if she could. The other vehicle was only a hundred feet or so behind her and catching up quickly -it's six big off-road lights practically blinding her if she looked in the rear view mirror. Even in front of her it made her own headlights pale in comparison. But as she looked ahead in that light - saw the Old Clovis Road crossing her path - she saw a chance.
In the desert arroyos occur every few miles and the roads that cross them must either go down into them or pass above them. Although usually dry, when they are filled there is a tremendous volume of water and trying to cross a flooded arroyo is a death trap. Still, you don't need a major bridge every few miles with concrete reinforcement on both sides either. It's too costly. The answer that is often used in flat areas is something called a box culvert.
Box culverts are prefabricated concrete boxes - sometimes while and sometimes in parts. You level off the arroyo and lower these in to the dry arroyo with a crane, then backfill with a tractor or bulldozer. It's a lot cheaper than a bridge and - in the wide open desert - works just as well. In the glare of the big off-road lights of the jeep pursuing her she saw the triple box culvert ahead supporting above it the Old Clovis Road. The culverts came in a variety of sizes - the most common being eight foot wide by five foot high. The roll bar above her head was about 4 ft 10 inches. If the buildup of sand and gravel was more than two inches, it would get real interesting. Of course, the jeep behind her had those humongous lights on its roll bar. Even if the concrete was bare, the following jeep was going to lose its lights.
'Of course, if it has six inches of sand or gravel on the floor of the culvert, you are going to come to a screeching - and likely very painful - halt,' she told herself.
But what little she could see of the entrance to the culvert looked like bare concrete. She tightened her seatbelt and scrunched down in the seat, ducking her head as the jeep entered the darkness of the culvert at thirty-five miles and hour.
Behind her, Jim Valenti watched in disbelief - then hit the brakes. With the higher suspension of the search and rescue vehicle there was no doubt in his mind that the roll bar was at least six inches above height of the roof ofthe box culvert. They wouldn't just smash the six expensive off road lights, they'd wreck the jeep and probably injure themselves if they continued. He was able to get the jeep to slide to a stop with only about a foot of the hood inside the culvert. He quickly jumped out of the vehicle and walked in to the culvert to see what had become of the Evans jeep. The floor of the culvert was bare concrete - and in the distance further up the arroyo he could see the taillights of the jeep heading west over the desert. The patrol car above couldn't follow it even if it could find a way off the road. The search and rescue jeep could - but only after backtracking four or five miles. The jeep would be way out of sight before they could get back on its trail. Isabel Evans had eluded them again....
Informed consent (M/L ADULT) [COMPLETE]
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Re: Informed consent AU M/L ADULT 03/20/2010
Last edited by greywolf on Sun Mar 21, 2010 11:01 am, edited 2 times in total.
Re: Informed consent AU M/L ADULT 03/20/2010
Four miles west of the Old Clovis Highway Isabel turned right driving the jeep north out of the arroyo. If the jeep behind her had gone north it would have run in to the Pecos river so almost certainly it had gone south. Not only would turning north put more distance between her and that pursuer she could parallel the river this way and then cut across the desert to the Old Albuquerque Highway only about a mile south of where the little canyon leading to the podchamber came in. She could turn north, cache the supplies, then continue north another half mile or so before again cutting west across the desert. That way she could stay off the roads with their patrol cars altogether and limit her worrying to the one jeep by now probably ten miles behind her.
It had been a near thing - the culvert. It had been about thirty feet long - thirty feet of the concrete ceiling being only scant inches above the roll bar of the jeep - and it had almost ended in disaster. Exactly where the old railroad tie had come from she didn't know - in fact it and an identical fellow had been used by a jeep club building a trail across a small ravine not too far west up the arroyo - but it had been washed in to the west entrance of the culvert along with a tangle of mesquite branches that had no doubt fallen in to the side of the arroyo when their roots had been eroded out from under them. Whatever the circumstances, if she'd run up on that pile it would have forced her roll bar and probably the top of the windshield into the ceiling of the culvert at twenty-five or thirty miles an hour. It wouldn't have been pretty. Fortunately instinct had taken over - Antar was apparently a pretty rough place and her alien DNA had done the trick. Her hand had shot out clear of the windscreen and a powerblast had sent the debris flying out of the culvert five feet before she'd gotten to it. Of course, she'd run over it out in the arroyo and it had rattled her teeth and the impact bruised her butt there, but at least it hadn't broken her neck and the jeep still seemed to be working. She'd have to prepare better next time - and she knew how to do that.
Michael knew these desert spaces like the back of his hand. He'd spent years on that dirt bike out here. With his truly sucky home life, he'd drive out here for hours - thinking how wonderful it would be to go back 'home' - wherever that was. He didn't do that anymore. Oh, he still rode out here - but with Maria's arms around his waist, it wasn't so sucky anymore. 'Lucky bastard,' she thought, wishing that she had the nerve to just tell him - him of course being a certain gangly musician and computer nerd. That wasn't altogether fair, she had told him, she thought to herself.
'Yeah, well in a dream-orb doesn't count...'
She forced her thoughts back to Michael. She'd talk to him - tell him what the problem was - find out from him where places were that she might be able to brush off pursuers. Putting that aside to deal with in the future, she thought about her immediate circumstances - concentrating on getting the supplies to Max.
With any luck at all, she'd be home free in an hour or so and ready to collect her reward - the warm feeling inside from having helped her brother and her injured sister-in-law - and that would be very real - although perhaps not quite as real as another stargazing session with Alex.
'You ought to just tell him - show him,' she told herself. Realizing even as she did so that she didn't have the nerve to do it.
At the podchamber, Max was getting ready to leave to take up his position on the overlook above the road. Isabel would be coming shortly, and he needed to be in position before she dropped off the supplies and the journal article. If she was being followed, he'd just leave them at the side of the road. If there was no evidence after ten minutes that anyone had tracked her, he'd retrieve the supplies and bring them back to the podchamber
He had checked Liz over already but as he walked to the entrance he stopped by her again and allowed his lips to brush softly against hers. He hated to leave her – half convinced that the half hour every three or four weeks while he was retrieving supplies would inevitably be the one and only time that she'd – briefly – recover consciousness. He sighed deeply. It couldn't be helped. He left quickly to take up his surveillance of the stretch of the Old Albuquerque highway adjacent to the small canyon leading up to the podchamber.
Even as Max was leaving the abyss was forming. Of course, with Isabel on the road and Max on the way to pick up the supplies, there was no one in the abyss but Liz.
Liz felt the darkness coalesce around her and knew she was alone in her dream. The abyss had been getting progressively smaller – at least when she was unable to dream about Isabel or Max – and the duration she spent in it was getting shorter each time she found herself there even when she did manage to dream about one of them. But this time was the worst. It seemed like she was in little more than an inky coffin. She could put her arms out away from her but they went into a cold empty nothingness only about a foot from her body. She couldn't touch one hand to another unless she kept them in quite close – there was simply nothing there.
“Face it, Liz,” she told herself. “You are starting to just fade away.”
She was reasonably sure what was happening. The reticular activating system was – like she had discussed with dream-Max – just giving up the ghost.
'An expression,' she reminded herself, '...that I might get a chance to experience myself very soon.'
Of course, she couldn't be sure of that but that particular model fit the reality of what was happening to her perfectly. Her intervals of self-awareness were getting shorter progressively. At first it seemed like she had spent an eternity of self awareness alone in the abyss- a far larger abyss than she had now. Only the fact that she'd conjured up her imaginary friends - now one imaginary friend and one imaginary husband - had allowed her to keep her sanity at all. But whatever damage that car accident had done to her - it had continued to progress inexorably.
She smiled briefly as she remembered the times she had shared with her two imaginary consciousnesses in the abyss - thought of the wild tales - strange powers and alien podchambers they'd discussed.
'The human mind does some amazing things to fight off loneliness,' she thought.
But it was coming to an end - she couldn't fail to notice that even when one of them was with her the abyss was still much smaller than it had been and without them.... she put her hands out again and touched the darkness - feeling their substance disappear.
That was going to be her fate - she knew that and accepted it. It was the only logical thing to do. And it wouldn't be much longer - she was certain of that as well. Dream-Isabel and Dream-Max had gotten her through the first panic - the terrible realization that she would never again have a real life - and for that she would always be grateful. Dream-Max had given her a brief look at what joy she might have had - perhaps a mixed blessing since it let her know how very much she would be missing - but even so she cherished those dreams. No, at least her imaging of dram-Isabel and dream-Max had helped her deal with her impending finish with some degree of dignity - and not just a little pleasure. For that at least she owed both of them.
'Too bad the dream isn't real,' she thought, '... too bad I don't really have a part-alien husband out there trying to change the fundamental laws of physics to save me,' she thought, '....not that it would make any difference, I guess. He would either do it, or not do it. There's no way I could affect it...'
She felt the dissolution coming and as the abyss collapsed around her she thought about dream-Max - and smiled.
It had been a near thing - the culvert. It had been about thirty feet long - thirty feet of the concrete ceiling being only scant inches above the roll bar of the jeep - and it had almost ended in disaster. Exactly where the old railroad tie had come from she didn't know - in fact it and an identical fellow had been used by a jeep club building a trail across a small ravine not too far west up the arroyo - but it had been washed in to the west entrance of the culvert along with a tangle of mesquite branches that had no doubt fallen in to the side of the arroyo when their roots had been eroded out from under them. Whatever the circumstances, if she'd run up on that pile it would have forced her roll bar and probably the top of the windshield into the ceiling of the culvert at twenty-five or thirty miles an hour. It wouldn't have been pretty. Fortunately instinct had taken over - Antar was apparently a pretty rough place and her alien DNA had done the trick. Her hand had shot out clear of the windscreen and a powerblast had sent the debris flying out of the culvert five feet before she'd gotten to it. Of course, she'd run over it out in the arroyo and it had rattled her teeth and the impact bruised her butt there, but at least it hadn't broken her neck and the jeep still seemed to be working. She'd have to prepare better next time - and she knew how to do that.
Michael knew these desert spaces like the back of his hand. He'd spent years on that dirt bike out here. With his truly sucky home life, he'd drive out here for hours - thinking how wonderful it would be to go back 'home' - wherever that was. He didn't do that anymore. Oh, he still rode out here - but with Maria's arms around his waist, it wasn't so sucky anymore. 'Lucky bastard,' she thought, wishing that she had the nerve to just tell him - him of course being a certain gangly musician and computer nerd. That wasn't altogether fair, she had told him, she thought to herself.
'Yeah, well in a dream-orb doesn't count...'
She forced her thoughts back to Michael. She'd talk to him - tell him what the problem was - find out from him where places were that she might be able to brush off pursuers. Putting that aside to deal with in the future, she thought about her immediate circumstances - concentrating on getting the supplies to Max.
With any luck at all, she'd be home free in an hour or so and ready to collect her reward - the warm feeling inside from having helped her brother and her injured sister-in-law - and that would be very real - although perhaps not quite as real as another stargazing session with Alex.
'You ought to just tell him - show him,' she told herself. Realizing even as she did so that she didn't have the nerve to do it.
At the podchamber, Max was getting ready to leave to take up his position on the overlook above the road. Isabel would be coming shortly, and he needed to be in position before she dropped off the supplies and the journal article. If she was being followed, he'd just leave them at the side of the road. If there was no evidence after ten minutes that anyone had tracked her, he'd retrieve the supplies and bring them back to the podchamber
He had checked Liz over already but as he walked to the entrance he stopped by her again and allowed his lips to brush softly against hers. He hated to leave her – half convinced that the half hour every three or four weeks while he was retrieving supplies would inevitably be the one and only time that she'd – briefly – recover consciousness. He sighed deeply. It couldn't be helped. He left quickly to take up his surveillance of the stretch of the Old Albuquerque highway adjacent to the small canyon leading up to the podchamber.
Even as Max was leaving the abyss was forming. Of course, with Isabel on the road and Max on the way to pick up the supplies, there was no one in the abyss but Liz.
Liz felt the darkness coalesce around her and knew she was alone in her dream. The abyss had been getting progressively smaller – at least when she was unable to dream about Isabel or Max – and the duration she spent in it was getting shorter each time she found herself there even when she did manage to dream about one of them. But this time was the worst. It seemed like she was in little more than an inky coffin. She could put her arms out away from her but they went into a cold empty nothingness only about a foot from her body. She couldn't touch one hand to another unless she kept them in quite close – there was simply nothing there.
“Face it, Liz,” she told herself. “You are starting to just fade away.”
She was reasonably sure what was happening. The reticular activating system was – like she had discussed with dream-Max – just giving up the ghost.
'An expression,' she reminded herself, '...that I might get a chance to experience myself very soon.'
Of course, she couldn't be sure of that but that particular model fit the reality of what was happening to her perfectly. Her intervals of self-awareness were getting shorter progressively. At first it seemed like she had spent an eternity of self awareness alone in the abyss- a far larger abyss than she had now. Only the fact that she'd conjured up her imaginary friends - now one imaginary friend and one imaginary husband - had allowed her to keep her sanity at all. But whatever damage that car accident had done to her - it had continued to progress inexorably.
She smiled briefly as she remembered the times she had shared with her two imaginary consciousnesses in the abyss - thought of the wild tales - strange powers and alien podchambers they'd discussed.
'The human mind does some amazing things to fight off loneliness,' she thought.
But it was coming to an end - she couldn't fail to notice that even when one of them was with her the abyss was still much smaller than it had been and without them.... she put her hands out again and touched the darkness - feeling their substance disappear.
That was going to be her fate - she knew that and accepted it. It was the only logical thing to do. And it wouldn't be much longer - she was certain of that as well. Dream-Isabel and Dream-Max had gotten her through the first panic - the terrible realization that she would never again have a real life - and for that she would always be grateful. Dream-Max had given her a brief look at what joy she might have had - perhaps a mixed blessing since it let her know how very much she would be missing - but even so she cherished those dreams. No, at least her imaging of dram-Isabel and dream-Max had helped her deal with her impending finish with some degree of dignity - and not just a little pleasure. For that at least she owed both of them.
'Too bad the dream isn't real,' she thought, '... too bad I don't really have a part-alien husband out there trying to change the fundamental laws of physics to save me,' she thought, '....not that it would make any difference, I guess. He would either do it, or not do it. There's no way I could affect it...'
She felt the dissolution coming and as the abyss collapsed around her she thought about dream-Max - and smiled.
Re: Informed consent AU M/L ADULT 03/22/2010
Max watched the road – perched high up on one of the edges of the little canyon. He was trying to keep the fear from building inside him but this probably wasn't the best place for that. Too many memories. This was where he and Isabel had come – over eleven years ago now – when they'd left the podchamber looking for food water. They'd had to make a choice when they saw the road and the car coming their way. Michael had been too frightened – Max would have been too if Isabel hadn't been there with him – so only he and his sister went to the car. They didn't see Michael again for almost five years.
The whole world had been new to them – and they knew absolutely nothing. The machines had grown their bodies – but they had only been machines. There had been no …. nurturing … that was likely the best word. The machines had functioned – they had never loved – they had never held them and made them feel they were special – important. The machines had been incubators – not parents. The machines fed their bodies but not their minds – and certainly not their souls. The three of them at first had been – quite literally – frightened of their own shadows. But as bad as that had been, it was even worse now. Max was terrified of failure.
It had seemed so easy at first. The hard part, he had thought – would be getting Liz safely here. That part, however, had gone with deceptive ease. He'd always been good at science, Hell, he'd always been GREAT at science. It was inconceivable that after all these weeks of study he had not a clue how to get the stasis machines working – even with Liz's help. It was inconceivable as well that with all the astrophysics and unified field theory he'd studied, things were getting even worse. At the start he hadn't known all that much about the subject, but he'd been naively certain that with three working models he could somehow reverse engineer the science. After intensive study he had now educated himself – and could now do a mathematical proof that the stasis machines could not possibly work. That was hardly progress.
'You keep using that word. I do not think it means, what you think it means.... ,' he thought to himself, remembering the quotation from an old movie he'd once seen.
And now – now what was frightening him was the knowledge that he was losing Liz. Despite his best efforts – she was fading out – even in the abyss. Increasingly, he couldn't dreamwalk her when he was asleep what little sleep his worries allowed him – because the abyss just wouldn't form. Izzy had the same problem. Liz would miss whole days – just because she couldn't even generate enough REM sleep for the abyss. And when it did form, it was so brief. At the start it seemed like they had hours of subjective time with her in the abyss. Now anything over fifteen minutes seemed wonderful. And the abyss itself.... Liz's dream-orb had been noticeably abnormal from the start but it was becoming less and less. It was losing the battle with nothingness.
Oh, Liz might not die if she could no longer form the abyss – at least not immediately – but even that would come too, if he couldn't solve the riddle of those stasis chambers. Of that he was frighteningly certain. He had already done the research - back when he was trying to get her treated.
The life expectancy of someone in a persistent vegetative state was only two to five years, but that was for everyone in that group - and most of them had EEG evidence of REM sleep - like Liz when she was in the abyss. Once that REM sleep stopped - like appeared to be happening now to Liz - the comatose person typically succumbed within six months. Max knew he didn't have all eternity to solve this problem. He also knew that he was little closer to solving it now than he had been months ago.
'....and yet you promised her you'd save her,' he told himself for the millionth time.
Not that she'd ever believed him - or even believed that he was really in the abyss with her. That was some compensation. At least he hadn't gotten her hopes up. She'd never thought he was real.
And yet even that depressed him. Before she'd been hurt, he'd never believed there could possibly be anything between the two of them - much as he loved her. Maybe there could have been. Oh maybe she just married him in the abyss because he was the only guy in it - because he and Izzy had rescued her from such unbearable loneliness, but even so - he cherished the memories of the times he had shared with her as her dream-husband more than any times he'd had in this real world.
He had, he knew, also cherished a dream. He dreamed that he'd actually find a way to cure her - that one day her eyes would open and she'd see his face and see the podchamber and realize it hadn't just been a dream. That she'd know that it had been real - that his love for her was real - and that she'd accept him for what he was and still want to be his wife. But that WAS only a dream, he reminded himself. As hard as he was working to make that dream come true - as hard as he was willing to work - that dream seemed less and less like it could ever come true.
'It's just as well Liz doesn't believe,' he told himself. '...that way only one of us gets their hopes destroyed.'
Max saw the headlights of the jeep - almost a mile a way. Soon he heard the familiar sound of the little 2.5L engine. There didn't appear to be anyone following her. Izzy pulled over at the usual spot and quickly unloaded the supplies. He waited until she was out of sight and scanned again for traffic from either direction before making his way down to the road to start hauling the supplies back to the podchamber. He'd need, he figured, to take three trips. It was difficult carrying the cases of water up the steep narrow trail through the canyon in the darkness.
The whole world had been new to them – and they knew absolutely nothing. The machines had grown their bodies – but they had only been machines. There had been no …. nurturing … that was likely the best word. The machines had functioned – they had never loved – they had never held them and made them feel they were special – important. The machines had been incubators – not parents. The machines fed their bodies but not their minds – and certainly not their souls. The three of them at first had been – quite literally – frightened of their own shadows. But as bad as that had been, it was even worse now. Max was terrified of failure.
It had seemed so easy at first. The hard part, he had thought – would be getting Liz safely here. That part, however, had gone with deceptive ease. He'd always been good at science, Hell, he'd always been GREAT at science. It was inconceivable that after all these weeks of study he had not a clue how to get the stasis machines working – even with Liz's help. It was inconceivable as well that with all the astrophysics and unified field theory he'd studied, things were getting even worse. At the start he hadn't known all that much about the subject, but he'd been naively certain that with three working models he could somehow reverse engineer the science. After intensive study he had now educated himself – and could now do a mathematical proof that the stasis machines could not possibly work. That was hardly progress.
'You keep using that word. I do not think it means, what you think it means.... ,' he thought to himself, remembering the quotation from an old movie he'd once seen.
And now – now what was frightening him was the knowledge that he was losing Liz. Despite his best efforts – she was fading out – even in the abyss. Increasingly, he couldn't dreamwalk her when he was asleep what little sleep his worries allowed him – because the abyss just wouldn't form. Izzy had the same problem. Liz would miss whole days – just because she couldn't even generate enough REM sleep for the abyss. And when it did form, it was so brief. At the start it seemed like they had hours of subjective time with her in the abyss. Now anything over fifteen minutes seemed wonderful. And the abyss itself.... Liz's dream-orb had been noticeably abnormal from the start but it was becoming less and less. It was losing the battle with nothingness.
Oh, Liz might not die if she could no longer form the abyss – at least not immediately – but even that would come too, if he couldn't solve the riddle of those stasis chambers. Of that he was frighteningly certain. He had already done the research - back when he was trying to get her treated.
The life expectancy of someone in a persistent vegetative state was only two to five years, but that was for everyone in that group - and most of them had EEG evidence of REM sleep - like Liz when she was in the abyss. Once that REM sleep stopped - like appeared to be happening now to Liz - the comatose person typically succumbed within six months. Max knew he didn't have all eternity to solve this problem. He also knew that he was little closer to solving it now than he had been months ago.
'....and yet you promised her you'd save her,' he told himself for the millionth time.
Not that she'd ever believed him - or even believed that he was really in the abyss with her. That was some compensation. At least he hadn't gotten her hopes up. She'd never thought he was real.
And yet even that depressed him. Before she'd been hurt, he'd never believed there could possibly be anything between the two of them - much as he loved her. Maybe there could have been. Oh maybe she just married him in the abyss because he was the only guy in it - because he and Izzy had rescued her from such unbearable loneliness, but even so - he cherished the memories of the times he had shared with her as her dream-husband more than any times he'd had in this real world.
He had, he knew, also cherished a dream. He dreamed that he'd actually find a way to cure her - that one day her eyes would open and she'd see his face and see the podchamber and realize it hadn't just been a dream. That she'd know that it had been real - that his love for her was real - and that she'd accept him for what he was and still want to be his wife. But that WAS only a dream, he reminded himself. As hard as he was working to make that dream come true - as hard as he was willing to work - that dream seemed less and less like it could ever come true.
'It's just as well Liz doesn't believe,' he told himself. '...that way only one of us gets their hopes destroyed.'
Max saw the headlights of the jeep - almost a mile a way. Soon he heard the familiar sound of the little 2.5L engine. There didn't appear to be anyone following her. Izzy pulled over at the usual spot and quickly unloaded the supplies. He waited until she was out of sight and scanned again for traffic from either direction before making his way down to the road to start hauling the supplies back to the podchamber. He'd need, he figured, to take three trips. It was difficult carrying the cases of water up the steep narrow trail through the canyon in the darkness.
Re: Informed consent AU M/L ADULT 03/22/2010
It was a clear dark morning as the Jeep with the two teenagers pulled in to Royer Park on the edge of Roswell at 4AM. A near perfect time for stargazing, the moon already below the horizon and the first light of morning not yet in the eastern sky. Of course, except for one amateur astronomer, stargazing wasn't what most people did in Royer Park after dark. It was a well known and frequently utilized teenage make-out spot - although 4AM was clearly past prime time even for that. There was one car on the other end of the dark parking lot faintly visible. The couple in it was - apparently - still in the front seat, but that was the only surprising thing about it. Isabel parked as far as she could from it. What the darkened figures chose to do in that car - Isabel decided - was their business. Besides - she needed the comfort of these minutes with Alex.
The anxiety of the close call at the culvert was long past and the safe delivery of the supplies had brought her a sense of accomplishment - but it was all starting to seem so hopeless. What she needed was reassurance - to have the depressing fears that were starting to haunt her pushed aside - if only for a few moments. A brief respite from a fearful reality that would let her recharge her batteries and continue to fight for a cause that increasingly seemed hopeless. Of course, she wasn't really thinking these things. It was more intuitive. She needed the steadiness that being with Alex gave her, but had yet to understand that. Physically she was one of the three strongest beings in the county, but emotionally - that was a different story.
Diane Evans had tried her best - in fact accomplished a miracle - but Isabel's 'mother' for her first six years had been a mechanical incubator. The fetal Isabel had never heard her mother's heartbeat - had never felt her mothers movements – or heard her mothers voice during that time. Mothers generally are the most important person in a child's early life. No machine can substitute for that. In a very real sense all the problems the podlings had with their social relationships stemmed much more from their early maternal than it did with the small amount of alien DNA each of them had. Diane had done quite a lot for Isabel and Max given the late start but at this stage in her life what she really needed was support from Alex. Despite her doubts about that intellectually – have I mentioned that thinking is over-rated? - her body seemed to know intuitively that cuddling up to him would be emotionally reassuring. That was what she most desperately needed right now.
She laid her head on his shoulder and looked up at the skies, trying to fight back her fears. She had managed to dreamwalk Max yesterday to finalize the supply delivery since dreamwalking Liz was becoming so erratic and uncertain. She'd tasted the fear in his dream-orb and felt his uncertainty that he could actually figure out the stasis chambers. His agitated depression threatened to be contagious. Besides that, she was concerned for Alex.
“Alex, I'm sorry I ever got you into this. I honestly thought it was going to be work out. When Max sets his mind on some sort of problem he usually finds some way to make it work. It's like he has hit a brick wall this time – and by pulling you into this as my alibi, you've become an accessory after the fact – just like that Phillips said.”
“Phillips was a drunk and an idiot – even the FBI figured that out. That's why he's off the case.”
“Well, like they say, even a broken clock is right twice a day.”
“Yeah, well I'll never believe that either you or Max would hurt Liz. Whatever Max is doing, I'm sure it has a better chance of helping her than letting her be warehoused in that nursing home would. Besides, Max was the only one who did anything very effective about finding treatment for her even before that. I figure he probably still is...”
“I still don't think I should have gotten you involved....”
His head moved closer to hers and his arm went around her shoulder – just like he sometimes would do with 'Izzy' in his dreams. “I'm not complaining, am I?” he asked.
No she thought, as she closed her eyes and drew strength from his closeness, Alex wasn't complaining. What he was doing was trusting her – trusting her far more than she had any right to expect him to – trusting her far more than an Ice Princess could ever bring herself to trust anyone … except she wasn't an Ice Princess right now. She was scared and vulnerable and needed someone to hold on to – needed Alex – more than she could even admit to herself. That didn't stop her from holding on to him though. She cuddled closer, looking up at the sky and pointing.
“What's that constellation there?” she asked.
“That would be Orion, the Hunter,” he replied. “The three stars there in a row – that's the belt of Orion. If I remember right they are called 'the three Marys' in Latin America.”
Alex kept talking, reeling off other names. Isabel tried to listen attentively but found herself distracted by his closeness – by his musky smell – by the warmth of his body against her. Over the next half hour that alone did its trick. Being with Alex let her recharge her psychological batteries – let her feel that there was hope – that the world still could be a wonderful place.
The anxiety of the close call at the culvert was long past and the safe delivery of the supplies had brought her a sense of accomplishment - but it was all starting to seem so hopeless. What she needed was reassurance - to have the depressing fears that were starting to haunt her pushed aside - if only for a few moments. A brief respite from a fearful reality that would let her recharge her batteries and continue to fight for a cause that increasingly seemed hopeless. Of course, she wasn't really thinking these things. It was more intuitive. She needed the steadiness that being with Alex gave her, but had yet to understand that. Physically she was one of the three strongest beings in the county, but emotionally - that was a different story.
Diane Evans had tried her best - in fact accomplished a miracle - but Isabel's 'mother' for her first six years had been a mechanical incubator. The fetal Isabel had never heard her mother's heartbeat - had never felt her mothers movements – or heard her mothers voice during that time. Mothers generally are the most important person in a child's early life. No machine can substitute for that. In a very real sense all the problems the podlings had with their social relationships stemmed much more from their early maternal than it did with the small amount of alien DNA each of them had. Diane had done quite a lot for Isabel and Max given the late start but at this stage in her life what she really needed was support from Alex. Despite her doubts about that intellectually – have I mentioned that thinking is over-rated? - her body seemed to know intuitively that cuddling up to him would be emotionally reassuring. That was what she most desperately needed right now.
She laid her head on his shoulder and looked up at the skies, trying to fight back her fears. She had managed to dreamwalk Max yesterday to finalize the supply delivery since dreamwalking Liz was becoming so erratic and uncertain. She'd tasted the fear in his dream-orb and felt his uncertainty that he could actually figure out the stasis chambers. His agitated depression threatened to be contagious. Besides that, she was concerned for Alex.
“Alex, I'm sorry I ever got you into this. I honestly thought it was going to be work out. When Max sets his mind on some sort of problem he usually finds some way to make it work. It's like he has hit a brick wall this time – and by pulling you into this as my alibi, you've become an accessory after the fact – just like that Phillips said.”
“Phillips was a drunk and an idiot – even the FBI figured that out. That's why he's off the case.”
“Well, like they say, even a broken clock is right twice a day.”
“Yeah, well I'll never believe that either you or Max would hurt Liz. Whatever Max is doing, I'm sure it has a better chance of helping her than letting her be warehoused in that nursing home would. Besides, Max was the only one who did anything very effective about finding treatment for her even before that. I figure he probably still is...”
“I still don't think I should have gotten you involved....”
His head moved closer to hers and his arm went around her shoulder – just like he sometimes would do with 'Izzy' in his dreams. “I'm not complaining, am I?” he asked.
No she thought, as she closed her eyes and drew strength from his closeness, Alex wasn't complaining. What he was doing was trusting her – trusting her far more than she had any right to expect him to – trusting her far more than an Ice Princess could ever bring herself to trust anyone … except she wasn't an Ice Princess right now. She was scared and vulnerable and needed someone to hold on to – needed Alex – more than she could even admit to herself. That didn't stop her from holding on to him though. She cuddled closer, looking up at the sky and pointing.
“What's that constellation there?” she asked.
“That would be Orion, the Hunter,” he replied. “The three stars there in a row – that's the belt of Orion. If I remember right they are called 'the three Marys' in Latin America.”
Alex kept talking, reeling off other names. Isabel tried to listen attentively but found herself distracted by his closeness – by his musky smell – by the warmth of his body against her. Over the next half hour that alone did its trick. Being with Alex let her recharge her psychological batteries – let her feel that there was hope – that the world still could be a wonderful place.
Re: Informed consent AU M/L ADULT 03/22/2010
Across the parking lot, a scene of a different sort was unfolding.
You learn a lot about someone going on a stakeout with them. Jim and Jaime had given up on the off-road vehicle after getting left behind at the culvert. With an eight to ten mile head start in the desert there was precisely no chance they would have caught up with Isabel Evans before she dropped off those supplies – assuming that's what she was doing. They had gone back to Jaime's hotel and picked up his rental car and when a patrol car parked near Alex Whitman's house had seen Isabel pick up Alex, Jim had made a shrewd guess and managed to beat them to the parking lot of the most likely make-out spot in the direction they were traveling – not that it had done them much good so far.
“You know, I've always felt a little bit like a voyeur on stakeouts...” said Jaime. “Tell me again why we don't just go report her to her folks...?”
“Because Diane Evans is not someone you want angry at you. Given proof that Isabel was running supplies to her brother, Diane would likely co-operate. Until then, that would just be police harassment – even if we were to tell the good Mrs. Evans that her seventeen year old daughter is out at 4AM making out in a lover's lane.”
“Yeah, well they seem to be doing stuff that's pretty tame so far...” said Jaime. "Do you think that Phillips was right? That the girl's just using him? I've got to admit, he really doesn't seem to be in her league..."
Jim Valenti looked at the two through the binoculars - they did seem to be just cuddling - but Isabel sure looked like she was enjoying it.
"I don't know. Isabel and her brother have always been somewhat of an enigma ... in fact before this whole thing happened with Liz Parker I almost wrote you a letter about them."
"Me?"
"Well, not you, actually, but the FBI. An elite secret unit that my father worked with many years ago - the Special Unit."
"You know about the Special Unit?" asked Jaime, the concern in his face obvious.
"Yeah, I even tracked down their office once when I went to your headquarters. My father - well he's institutionalized now - he's getting along in years - married late in life and I think he was a little surprised when us kids came along - but working with the Special Unit back when he was a rookie in the 1950s was one of the high points of his career I think. He still brags about it - not that anyone but me can understand him. He was even prouder of working with them than being he was being elected county Sheriff."
Jim put down the binoculars and saw Jaime's face - obviously troubled.
Jaime winced. "I shouldn't be talking with you about this but...since you already know part of the story ... I guess it would be better if you knew the rest."
"The rest?"
"About the Special Unit. They were disbanded last year - thank God. I only wish we'd had the cojones to prosecute them - but the publicity would have torn the Bureau apart - or so the big guys believed - and any conviction would have been hard to come by. We should have tried it anyway though. It would have been the right thing to do."
You learn a lot about someone going on a stakeout with them. Jim and Jaime had given up on the off-road vehicle after getting left behind at the culvert. With an eight to ten mile head start in the desert there was precisely no chance they would have caught up with Isabel Evans before she dropped off those supplies – assuming that's what she was doing. They had gone back to Jaime's hotel and picked up his rental car and when a patrol car parked near Alex Whitman's house had seen Isabel pick up Alex, Jim had made a shrewd guess and managed to beat them to the parking lot of the most likely make-out spot in the direction they were traveling – not that it had done them much good so far.
“You know, I've always felt a little bit like a voyeur on stakeouts...” said Jaime. “Tell me again why we don't just go report her to her folks...?”
“Because Diane Evans is not someone you want angry at you. Given proof that Isabel was running supplies to her brother, Diane would likely co-operate. Until then, that would just be police harassment – even if we were to tell the good Mrs. Evans that her seventeen year old daughter is out at 4AM making out in a lover's lane.”
“Yeah, well they seem to be doing stuff that's pretty tame so far...” said Jaime. "Do you think that Phillips was right? That the girl's just using him? I've got to admit, he really doesn't seem to be in her league..."
Jim Valenti looked at the two through the binoculars - they did seem to be just cuddling - but Isabel sure looked like she was enjoying it.
"I don't know. Isabel and her brother have always been somewhat of an enigma ... in fact before this whole thing happened with Liz Parker I almost wrote you a letter about them."
"Me?"
"Well, not you, actually, but the FBI. An elite secret unit that my father worked with many years ago - the Special Unit."
"You know about the Special Unit?" asked Jaime, the concern in his face obvious.
"Yeah, I even tracked down their office once when I went to your headquarters. My father - well he's institutionalized now - he's getting along in years - married late in life and I think he was a little surprised when us kids came along - but working with the Special Unit back when he was a rookie in the 1950s was one of the high points of his career I think. He still brags about it - not that anyone but me can understand him. He was even prouder of working with them than being he was being elected county Sheriff."
Jim put down the binoculars and saw Jaime's face - obviously troubled.
Jaime winced. "I shouldn't be talking with you about this but...since you already know part of the story ... I guess it would be better if you knew the rest."
"The rest?"
"About the Special Unit. They were disbanded last year - thank God. I only wish we'd had the cojones to prosecute them - but the publicity would have torn the Bureau apart - or so the big guys believed - and any conviction would have been hard to come by. We should have tried it anyway though. It would have been the right thing to do."
Re: Informed consent AU M/L ADULT 03/26/2010
The two teenagers stared into the desert sky, Isabel continuing to draw badly needed emotional sustenance from the presence of Alex. He didn't speak of anything other than the stars – no proclamations of eternal love - but none of that mattered. No, her problems didn't magically get better. Liz was still in a coma that was progressively deepening and during the rare times she dreamwalked Max he seemed barely able to hold it together himself. But she'd seen him draw courage and – inspiration was perhaps the best word – on those times he had been able to dreamwalk Liz. It was like that with her and Alex too. Like when she'd danced with him all those years – a sensation of rightness perhaps. It was as if with him at her side she could withstand any adversity – even a tragedy that she and Max seemed unable to change.
No, there was nothing overtly sexual about cuddling up next to Alex – although in the unlikely event that his hands had decided to wander he probably wouldn't have been rebuffed. It just felt like....home. Somehow, both teenagers were shoring up their coping skills just by being together.
Of course, in the car on the other side of the parking lot, the conversation was getting interesting in its own right.
“What did the Special Unit do?” asked Jim.
“Well, perhaps it would be best to go back to the beginning. The Special Unit was formed over six years before that episode in Roswell. It was formed at the same time as Executive Order 9066 was issued.”
“Executive Order 9066?” asked Jim, uncertainty obvious on his face even in the darkened car.
“Yeah. That was FDR's order that permitted indefinite detention of alien enemies. It was used mostly against the Japanese-American population on the West Coast. I have a number of friends whose parents were born in detention camps because one or both of their parents were Japanese-Americans.”
“But what does this have to do with the Special Unit?”
“The FBI set up the Special Unit in response to a number of presidential 'findings' that were made after eight German saboteurs were landed by submarine on the East Coast in the summer of 1942. They were a small, elite, unit, with powers delegated by the President that – basically – made them a law unto themselves. At the time nobody really cared much about that. WWII was on – millions were dying – and we were only talking about aliens and those related to aliens, except of course that wasn't true. Most of the Japanese-Americans were citizens.”
“Didn't the Supreme Court do anything?” asked Jim.
“Yeah – the cases that got to the Supreme Court were upheld as constitutional. The presidential directive licensing the Special Unit to do pretty damn near anything they wanted to never got there. It was classified top secret. Anyway, for a couple of years the Special Unit mainly harassed Germans and Italians and Japanese. In 1944 though, they got interested in foo fighters. Do you understand what I mean by foo fighters?”
“A post-Punk band? I'm more a country-western type myself.”
“No, that came later. Foo fighters were – well – Unidentified Flying Objects, I guess. They started following fighter planes in WWII – apparently the fighter planes of all nations. Initially we thought they belonged to the Germans and the Japanese – they thought the same thing about us – but that's when the subject first got the Special unit's interest. Eventually one of the foo fighters got caught in a crossfire in an aerial dogfight and got shot down over Allied territory. It turned out to be unmanned – or perhaps unaliened would be more apropos – since the technology clearly wasn't human-based.”
“Automated?”
“Yes, at a very high level. Almost sentient. I don't mean to say there was no trace of humans in the craft though – there was just that – a trace. It was frozen incredibly hard – in what we would now call cryonics. We didn't find out until later – after the Roswell saucer – that the purpose of the foo figters was sampling of the flesh of the dominant life-form....us.”
“These things kidnapped people? Killed them?”
“No... nothing like that. Apparently they had come to Earth in response to the development of nuclear energy – the first atomic pile had been developed – just about a year after Pearl Harbor and about two years before the first foo fighter showed up. These foo fighters apparently chased after aircraft because aircraft often crashed – especially fighter planes that tended to shoot each other down. Getting female human tissue was more difficult. But there were 38 WASP pilots that died in aircraft mishaps. Apparently the foo fighters got to at least a few of them before the bodies were recovered.
That was before we had discovered DNA back then. All they knew for sure was that these foo fighters were going to crash scenes and swiping human tissue. It was all super-secret, but the leading theory back then was that these things were sampling human flesh for developing biological warfare agents to use against us – sort of a reverse War of the Worlds. The intention – it was believed – was to find some alien bug that would destroy all human life – that would open the Earth to alien invasion. ”
“I can see why people were freaked out.”
“I guess I can too. As it turned out though, nothing could have been farther from the truth. But that didn't matter. The Special Unit was given carte blanche to 'capture an interrogate the aliens who had built the foo fighters,' with no restrictions whatsoever. All their funding was taken off the books, and they were allowed to recruit their own cadre of agents from anywhere in the FBI.”
“You said nothing could have been farther from the truth? How could you know what the intent of the aliens really were?”
“Because of the two badly damaged aliens that were captured in the debris from the Roswell saucer. Those Special Unit bastards tortured one to death almost immediatley – but the other one was in captivity for almost seven years before he escaped - long enough for it to learn English and be subjected to many long and brutal interrogations at a secret facility on the White Sands Missile Range. That's how I know about this. El Paso was the nearest field office. When the Unit got shut down, we got all their old records. What they did to that poor creature when they recaptured him....” Jaime shook his head, his face grim even in the near-darkness. " That was - I would guess - when your father was introduced to the Special Unit - trying to recapture the last surviving alien after his escape from White Sands Missile Range. Anyway, after they recaptured him he lived another 12 years – if you call what they did to it living – before the Unit bastards killed him. They had some Nazi war criminal from Project Paper Clip vivisect him. I saw the tape – like the torture scene from Braveheart without the chick waiting for it to be over. I damn near vomited.”
“What were they doing then – the aliens I mean?”
“Remember that first moon mission – what it said on the plaque they left behind? 'We came in peace for all mankind,' it said. That appears to be pretty much what the aliens were doing. They came in peace to give us something – and the Special Unit killed them.”
No, there was nothing overtly sexual about cuddling up next to Alex – although in the unlikely event that his hands had decided to wander he probably wouldn't have been rebuffed. It just felt like....home. Somehow, both teenagers were shoring up their coping skills just by being together.
Of course, in the car on the other side of the parking lot, the conversation was getting interesting in its own right.
“What did the Special Unit do?” asked Jim.
“Well, perhaps it would be best to go back to the beginning. The Special Unit was formed over six years before that episode in Roswell. It was formed at the same time as Executive Order 9066 was issued.”
“Executive Order 9066?” asked Jim, uncertainty obvious on his face even in the darkened car.
“Yeah. That was FDR's order that permitted indefinite detention of alien enemies. It was used mostly against the Japanese-American population on the West Coast. I have a number of friends whose parents were born in detention camps because one or both of their parents were Japanese-Americans.”
“But what does this have to do with the Special Unit?”
“The FBI set up the Special Unit in response to a number of presidential 'findings' that were made after eight German saboteurs were landed by submarine on the East Coast in the summer of 1942. They were a small, elite, unit, with powers delegated by the President that – basically – made them a law unto themselves. At the time nobody really cared much about that. WWII was on – millions were dying – and we were only talking about aliens and those related to aliens, except of course that wasn't true. Most of the Japanese-Americans were citizens.”
“Didn't the Supreme Court do anything?” asked Jim.
“Yeah – the cases that got to the Supreme Court were upheld as constitutional. The presidential directive licensing the Special Unit to do pretty damn near anything they wanted to never got there. It was classified top secret. Anyway, for a couple of years the Special Unit mainly harassed Germans and Italians and Japanese. In 1944 though, they got interested in foo fighters. Do you understand what I mean by foo fighters?”
“A post-Punk band? I'm more a country-western type myself.”
“No, that came later. Foo fighters were – well – Unidentified Flying Objects, I guess. They started following fighter planes in WWII – apparently the fighter planes of all nations. Initially we thought they belonged to the Germans and the Japanese – they thought the same thing about us – but that's when the subject first got the Special unit's interest. Eventually one of the foo fighters got caught in a crossfire in an aerial dogfight and got shot down over Allied territory. It turned out to be unmanned – or perhaps unaliened would be more apropos – since the technology clearly wasn't human-based.”
“Automated?”
“Yes, at a very high level. Almost sentient. I don't mean to say there was no trace of humans in the craft though – there was just that – a trace. It was frozen incredibly hard – in what we would now call cryonics. We didn't find out until later – after the Roswell saucer – that the purpose of the foo figters was sampling of the flesh of the dominant life-form....us.”
“These things kidnapped people? Killed them?”
“No... nothing like that. Apparently they had come to Earth in response to the development of nuclear energy – the first atomic pile had been developed – just about a year after Pearl Harbor and about two years before the first foo fighter showed up. These foo fighters apparently chased after aircraft because aircraft often crashed – especially fighter planes that tended to shoot each other down. Getting female human tissue was more difficult. But there were 38 WASP pilots that died in aircraft mishaps. Apparently the foo fighters got to at least a few of them before the bodies were recovered.
That was before we had discovered DNA back then. All they knew for sure was that these foo fighters were going to crash scenes and swiping human tissue. It was all super-secret, but the leading theory back then was that these things were sampling human flesh for developing biological warfare agents to use against us – sort of a reverse War of the Worlds. The intention – it was believed – was to find some alien bug that would destroy all human life – that would open the Earth to alien invasion. ”
“I can see why people were freaked out.”
“I guess I can too. As it turned out though, nothing could have been farther from the truth. But that didn't matter. The Special Unit was given carte blanche to 'capture an interrogate the aliens who had built the foo fighters,' with no restrictions whatsoever. All their funding was taken off the books, and they were allowed to recruit their own cadre of agents from anywhere in the FBI.”
“You said nothing could have been farther from the truth? How could you know what the intent of the aliens really were?”
“Because of the two badly damaged aliens that were captured in the debris from the Roswell saucer. Those Special Unit bastards tortured one to death almost immediatley – but the other one was in captivity for almost seven years before he escaped - long enough for it to learn English and be subjected to many long and brutal interrogations at a secret facility on the White Sands Missile Range. That's how I know about this. El Paso was the nearest field office. When the Unit got shut down, we got all their old records. What they did to that poor creature when they recaptured him....” Jaime shook his head, his face grim even in the near-darkness. " That was - I would guess - when your father was introduced to the Special Unit - trying to recapture the last surviving alien after his escape from White Sands Missile Range. Anyway, after they recaptured him he lived another 12 years – if you call what they did to it living – before the Unit bastards killed him. They had some Nazi war criminal from Project Paper Clip vivisect him. I saw the tape – like the torture scene from Braveheart without the chick waiting for it to be over. I damn near vomited.”
“What were they doing then – the aliens I mean?”
“Remember that first moon mission – what it said on the plaque they left behind? 'We came in peace for all mankind,' it said. That appears to be pretty much what the aliens were doing. They came in peace to give us something – and the Special Unit killed them.”
Last edited by greywolf on Sat Mar 27, 2010 10:43 am, edited 1 time in total.
Re: Informed consent AU M/L ADULT 03/28/2010
"But I don't understand - why did anyone let that happen?" asked Jim.
"FDR was dead. Almost no one else even knew about the Unit. Had Truman known, probably he would have revoked the presidential directives that let them do this sort of stuff - but he didn't. Besides, he was up to his ass in alligators - trying to rein in Douglas MacArthur, avoid WWIII with Stalin. Besides, once federal organizations get established they tend to take on a life of their own. A hundred and thirty years ago somebody in Congress established the US Mohair commission to encourage the production of Angora wool in the US. I'm not sure anybody still produces it, but the commission has a building just off Connecticut Avenue in DC and a couple dozen people work there. Once something is established it's very difficult to disestablish it - and it keeps getting money. The budget is so damn big nobody can afford the time to read it. It's simpler just to pass a new one - giving everyone what they got last year - plus 5% - then it is to try to decide what's still needed."
"But, Jaime, still....."
Across the parking lot there was more talking going on.
"Are you warm enough, Isabel?"
Despite the cold morning air, Isabel felt amazingly comfortable there with his arm around her shoulder and her head resting on his shoulder - and she was almost foolish enough to tell him that. Despite her Ice Princess status (or maybe because of it), Isabel had scant need for or experience with 'feminine wiles' but they were there in her DNA somewhere apparently. She quickly caught herself.
"I'm OK I guess - well, maybe if you could hold me just just a little bit tighter...."
Alex snuggled a little closer. OK, he knew that Isabel was out of his league - but he couldn't let the poor girl freeze could he? Besides - he couldn't do anything for Liz - Max would either work that problem out or not without much help from Alex Whitman. Izzy he could help. He could provide her with an alibi ... and he could keep her warm. Besides, the smell of her shampoo with her head on his shoulder like that seemed so pleasant.
"That one there is Cassiopeia... and beside it her husband, King Cepheus. They had a daughter who was really beautiful, named Andromeda. That galaxy there is named after Andromeda...," said Alex, thinking as he did so that no princess from the sky could be half as beautiful as the one he had beside him.
So while two cops talked about old law enforcement and political history, and two teenagers treated their own individual depressions with liberal doses of closeness all the while pretending it was about astronomy and Greek mythology, back in the Roswell business district, Jeff Parker was up in his was room across the hall from the room of his missing daughter, planning his next steps.
The GPS tracker device had started downloading coordinates as soon as it had gotten back in cell phone range - and it had notified his beeper of that immediately. For the last half hour he had been plotting carefully the path that Isabel Evans' jeep had taken and had now overlain that on the track of her previous early morning excursion. There was good news and bad news.
The good news was that the two trips did overlap. The bad news was that they overlapped in two different places. There was about a half mile area out in the desert where the jeep had traveled along the same route both times - along the same arroyo. There was also another area where - for almost a mile and a half - the two trips had merged together on the Old Albuquerque highway.
Jeff had traveled that road many times and knew it reasonably well. In that area there was high land - a small area of hills - to the east and desert to the west. He wasn't even sure if the hillsides were climbable but there were a few old abandoned ranch houses on the flat desert to the west just off the road itself. But those were easily accessible from the Old Albuquerque highway which - although no longer the main road to Albuquerque was still a reasonably well traveled road - although not so much at 3AM perhaps. But still... the
ranch houses there were easily accessible by their old driveways off the road. No doubt they would have been checked out - thoroughly - by the Sheriff's department.
Jeff turned his attention to the half mile stretch the jeep had traversed on both trips in the arroyo. He logged on to google earth and pulled up the highest magnification picture he could get of the area. There were - within a mile or two - several old mines and one old farm house. It was possible that the Sheriff's office hadn't gotten to these - they were well off any paved road - and were he a betting man that's where he would have placed his money.
Of course, it could be all for naught. Max Evans wasn't stupid - the name engraved with his daughter on those science fair trophies across the hall attested to that, he thought with bitter irony. No, the kid might be truly depraved and evil - but he certainly wasn't stupid. The Evans kid might have a vehicle and if so he could meet his sister anywhere to pick up supplies - a different place each time in fact. But Jeff Parker didn't think so. There were a lot of old mines and deserted homesteads out there - but few of them had garages or other shelters big enough to hide a vehicle and a 'deserted' place with a vehicle by it's side would quickly draw attention to itself. Gradually he formed a plan.
He would assume that the Evans boy was on foot and his sister was dropping off supplies to him. The girl appeared to do a lot of off-road through the desert during each of her early morning sorties - no doubt trying to shake off anyone tailing her - and only then went off on more direct driving that seemed purposeful. The next time she left town to resupply him, he'd drive immediately to the road nearest that arroyo and hike in over the desert. He should get their well before she got there. If Max was there to meet her he'd find him ... and take care of him. If she didn't come there it would mean that he'd guessed wrong. But if she instead went to the Old Albuquerque highway ..... well, he'd have to wait until her NEXT trip after that one.
He looked at the map, then went to Google Earth again. There was one small road that went partway up one of the hills to the east. If he didn't find Max Evans along the arroyo on Isabel's next trip, that was where he'd go on the subsequent time. From up there he could see the entire mile and a half of the Old Albuquerque Highway she'd traveled. He fingered his new toy - night vision goggles - he could drive in without even having his lights on and sit their like an owl in the darkness - waiting to scoop up a field mouse.
Jeff Parker had seen owls catch field mice - coming down out of the darkness - talons gripping the victim - rending it's flesh from its bones. He smiled grimly at the thought, that was precisely what he would like to do to the boy who kidnapped his daughter.
"FDR was dead. Almost no one else even knew about the Unit. Had Truman known, probably he would have revoked the presidential directives that let them do this sort of stuff - but he didn't. Besides, he was up to his ass in alligators - trying to rein in Douglas MacArthur, avoid WWIII with Stalin. Besides, once federal organizations get established they tend to take on a life of their own. A hundred and thirty years ago somebody in Congress established the US Mohair commission to encourage the production of Angora wool in the US. I'm not sure anybody still produces it, but the commission has a building just off Connecticut Avenue in DC and a couple dozen people work there. Once something is established it's very difficult to disestablish it - and it keeps getting money. The budget is so damn big nobody can afford the time to read it. It's simpler just to pass a new one - giving everyone what they got last year - plus 5% - then it is to try to decide what's still needed."
"But, Jaime, still....."
Across the parking lot there was more talking going on.
"Are you warm enough, Isabel?"
Despite the cold morning air, Isabel felt amazingly comfortable there with his arm around her shoulder and her head resting on his shoulder - and she was almost foolish enough to tell him that. Despite her Ice Princess status (or maybe because of it), Isabel had scant need for or experience with 'feminine wiles' but they were there in her DNA somewhere apparently. She quickly caught herself.
"I'm OK I guess - well, maybe if you could hold me just just a little bit tighter...."
Alex snuggled a little closer. OK, he knew that Isabel was out of his league - but he couldn't let the poor girl freeze could he? Besides - he couldn't do anything for Liz - Max would either work that problem out or not without much help from Alex Whitman. Izzy he could help. He could provide her with an alibi ... and he could keep her warm. Besides, the smell of her shampoo with her head on his shoulder like that seemed so pleasant.
"That one there is Cassiopeia... and beside it her husband, King Cepheus. They had a daughter who was really beautiful, named Andromeda. That galaxy there is named after Andromeda...," said Alex, thinking as he did so that no princess from the sky could be half as beautiful as the one he had beside him.
So while two cops talked about old law enforcement and political history, and two teenagers treated their own individual depressions with liberal doses of closeness all the while pretending it was about astronomy and Greek mythology, back in the Roswell business district, Jeff Parker was up in his was room across the hall from the room of his missing daughter, planning his next steps.
The GPS tracker device had started downloading coordinates as soon as it had gotten back in cell phone range - and it had notified his beeper of that immediately. For the last half hour he had been plotting carefully the path that Isabel Evans' jeep had taken and had now overlain that on the track of her previous early morning excursion. There was good news and bad news.
The good news was that the two trips did overlap. The bad news was that they overlapped in two different places. There was about a half mile area out in the desert where the jeep had traveled along the same route both times - along the same arroyo. There was also another area where - for almost a mile and a half - the two trips had merged together on the Old Albuquerque highway.
Jeff had traveled that road many times and knew it reasonably well. In that area there was high land - a small area of hills - to the east and desert to the west. He wasn't even sure if the hillsides were climbable but there were a few old abandoned ranch houses on the flat desert to the west just off the road itself. But those were easily accessible from the Old Albuquerque highway which - although no longer the main road to Albuquerque was still a reasonably well traveled road - although not so much at 3AM perhaps. But still... the
ranch houses there were easily accessible by their old driveways off the road. No doubt they would have been checked out - thoroughly - by the Sheriff's department.
Jeff turned his attention to the half mile stretch the jeep had traversed on both trips in the arroyo. He logged on to google earth and pulled up the highest magnification picture he could get of the area. There were - within a mile or two - several old mines and one old farm house. It was possible that the Sheriff's office hadn't gotten to these - they were well off any paved road - and were he a betting man that's where he would have placed his money.
Of course, it could be all for naught. Max Evans wasn't stupid - the name engraved with his daughter on those science fair trophies across the hall attested to that, he thought with bitter irony. No, the kid might be truly depraved and evil - but he certainly wasn't stupid. The Evans kid might have a vehicle and if so he could meet his sister anywhere to pick up supplies - a different place each time in fact. But Jeff Parker didn't think so. There were a lot of old mines and deserted homesteads out there - but few of them had garages or other shelters big enough to hide a vehicle and a 'deserted' place with a vehicle by it's side would quickly draw attention to itself. Gradually he formed a plan.
He would assume that the Evans boy was on foot and his sister was dropping off supplies to him. The girl appeared to do a lot of off-road through the desert during each of her early morning sorties - no doubt trying to shake off anyone tailing her - and only then went off on more direct driving that seemed purposeful. The next time she left town to resupply him, he'd drive immediately to the road nearest that arroyo and hike in over the desert. He should get their well before she got there. If Max was there to meet her he'd find him ... and take care of him. If she didn't come there it would mean that he'd guessed wrong. But if she instead went to the Old Albuquerque highway ..... well, he'd have to wait until her NEXT trip after that one.
He looked at the map, then went to Google Earth again. There was one small road that went partway up one of the hills to the east. If he didn't find Max Evans along the arroyo on Isabel's next trip, that was where he'd go on the subsequent time. From up there he could see the entire mile and a half of the Old Albuquerque Highway she'd traveled. He fingered his new toy - night vision goggles - he could drive in without even having his lights on and sit their like an owl in the darkness - waiting to scoop up a field mouse.
Jeff Parker had seen owls catch field mice - coming down out of the darkness - talons gripping the victim - rending it's flesh from its bones. He smiled grimly at the thought, that was precisely what he would like to do to the boy who kidnapped his daughter.
Last edited by greywolf on Mon Mar 29, 2010 1:39 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: Informed consent AU M/L ADULT 03/28/2010
Jeff is in for a really rude shock.
RosFic Addict, motorcyclist, jazz fan, shooter, hardware builder, software tweaker, lover of family, kids, cats and other things soft and cuddly.
Re: Informed consent AU M/L ADULT 03/28/2010
Luved the updates. So the special unit was so busy torturing they turned down free gifts. Aaarg! I'm glad Jim is getting the low down on everything. He may need it very shortly. Jeff has certainly narrowed down the search, hasn't he? I must admit I thought he would even be able to narrow it down even more by multiple time hits in the spot where Isabel actually stopped to unload. But even yet Max is now truly in danger. Can't wait for more! 
Re: Informed consent AU M/L ADULT 03/29/2010
Beeeep.....
Max's hand went down to shut off the timer automatically - just as he had been doing for weeks. Every two hours while he was awake the timer would go off - like it just had - to remind him to reposition Liz's body, an essential thing if someone in a coma is to avoid bedsores. Also something that would doubtless NOT have occurred had Liz still been back at the nursing home.
Unlike Jim and Jaime, Alex and Isabel, and even Jeff Parker, Max wasn't up long after - or perhaps long before - his bedtime. For him it had become normal to be up all night and to sleep all day - with the door of the podchamber closed it was impossible to tell in any event - so that Izzy would be available to dreamwalk Liz while he was awake and she would be availbel to dreamwalk Liz when he was sleeping. Unlike Izzy who had to get up in the middle of the night to make the delivery, Max had been up anyway - although in a few hours he would be sleeping and - if he was lucky - dreamwalking Liz as well. He might even be able to dreamwalk Izzy and tell her that all was well - she'd likely need a nap herself after being up all night,
'Especially if she spends the morning stargazing with Alex,' Max thought to himself.
He briefly wondered if Izzy would ever get up the nerve to tell Alex. Truthfully, he wasn't sure if he would have ever told Liz - had it not been for her accident. Like her, he too feared being rejected. Even now after telling her - only in the abyss of course - Max couldn't help wondering what his wife would really feel about him once she accepted the truth. He'd imagined it both ways.
The first way was hopeful - that she'd awaken and see the pods, see him, see her ring - Max had fashioned it himself, manipulating the molecules of gold in an old watch case that he'd found and placed it on her comatose finger - and realize that everything she'd been told in the abyss was true and then she'd look up at him and smile and shake her head the way she always did when she was pleasantly surprised by something...
Of course, the second way was that she screamed, leaped away from him, tore off the ring, and beat her fists on the door until he either opened it for her or she pounded her way through the metal to go running out onto the desert, gibbering in terror.
'Of course, that's not really going to happen - the running across the desert..., he told himself.
Unfortunately, that wasn't a sudden burst of optimism from Max - it was rather an acknowledgment of a reality - there were limits to his power, and while he could and did provide far better care to Liz than she would have had at the nursing home, he couldn't stop some things from happening.
He looked down at her on the bed. She would always be beautiful to him - was beautiful now - but sentimentality aside, she wasn't in great shape.
The problem was something called disuse atrophy. Disuse atrophy affects muscles that just don't get used much. Except for the muscles that did her breathing, none of Liz's muscles were being exercised. They got nutrition - he fed her three times a day through her feeding tube - and they did get stretched whenever he did her range of motion exercises to keep her joints from getting stiff - and he did those two or three times a day - but you can't build or even keep muscle mass when the muscle is not being used. That's why when an arm or a leg is put in a cast, the cast becomes loose in three of four weeks. The cast hasn't gotten any bigger - the muscles under it have gotten smaller - which was why she wasn't going to be running off into the desert very fast, even if she were scared to death of him. Once she was conscious it would take weeks of exercise before she had her full strength back - before she could even stand up.
Looking down on her dispassionately - always difficult for him to do - her body really was wasted. It looked like one of these frighteningly skinny supermodels - the ones that kept on a starvation diet and had all their molars extracted to give them a starved waif look. Except, of course, the problem wasn't diet - Liz got all the calories she needed - it was just real hard to exercise when you were in a coma.
"Sorry, babe ... I wish we could put some more muscle mass on you. You are going to be as weak as a kitten for a week or two if we get you back to consciousness..."
A chill went through him and he winced involuntarily as he realized what he had just said. He frequently talked out loud to Liz - even though he knew she couldn't hear him. But always before he would have said 'when', not 'if' Liz got back to consciousness. He fought back the tears that threatened to fall on her as he decided to hell with reading the new journals and books that Izzy had brought for him. He needed to do something for Liz.
A half hour later he had finished the sponge bath and toweled her dry - then reached for a clean gown - hesitated and decided to shampoo her hair instead.
"We need to have you looking your best for WHEN you wake up," he said loudly - but even as he said it he had to wonder if it was going to happen. He shook his head sadly. He didn't want those doubts - even if he didn't actually voice them - but they seemed to be growing daily.
Back in Royer Park, the horizon to the east was starting to lighten but the discussion between Jim and Jaime was still going strong.
"So they tortured this guy for nineteen years - tortured him to death - and that's all the information they got out of him?" asked Jim.
"Hey, I just read the records, but those creatures - man they were some kind of tough. A human being would have died when the meteor hit the spacecraft. They lost atmosphere for most of re-entry - the craft busted into about twelve major pieces and God only knows how many minor pieces on impact - but both of them were not only still alive, but able to salvage the cargo and get it hidden somewhere before the Army Air Corps showed up. And these weren't like hand-picked special forces troops or something. One elderly biologist - I guess you would call him a molecular biologist today - and one crewman in a largely automated ship - and it wasn't even the crew member that wound up in captivity - it was the old guy."
"But - you really think that's true? That they were trying to HELP the human race?"
"Like I said, I just read the records. I'm not sure how anyone would have survived the initial injuries those two had - or breathing vacuum for a half-hour or so - and I sure know of no one human that would have survived the drugs and torture that those Special Unit bastards did to the the one who they had for all those years - but that creature did. Whether he was coerced into telling them the truth or not ... that's a different story. What the creature claimed though, was that the universe was sort of a lonely place. There was a lot of life out there - but most of it wasn't intelligent - just real mean. He said they had looked for hundreds of thousands of years for another interstellar race they could deal with as equals.
It seemed like most races that evolved intelligence and a basic level of technology - which they regarded as the knowledge of nuclear fission and the ability to use rockets for primitive purposes - it sounds like the German V-2 was what they decided placed us in that criteria - tended to lapse back into self-destruction. In their explorations they found plenty of ancient civilizations that had climbed the technological level to the point of being able to wipe themselves out in thermonuclear was and had done precisely that - but they hadn't found in hundreds of thousands of years of looking another intelligent civilization that had managed to survive the transition to a true interstellar society.
When they found a civilization here with their automated scouts in 1944 that was right on the cusp of being able to destroy itself the decision was made to try to intercede. It was a unique project - done at great expense - and something the old biologist at least felt really strongly about. The idea was to jumpstart human evolution by taking the samples from the remains of those dead aviators and infusing them with some of the characteristics of these creatures from [url=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antares] Antares {/url] themselves. Evolution had been working on them for many millenia longer than they had on homo sapiens and they'd evolved strong survival traits. The hope was that - in just a few tens of thousands of years - the genes would spread through the human race - give us some of the characteristics that allowed them to survive if and when the inevitable nuclear proliferation occurred and when the human race reached out toward space. The old biologist said it would be 'nice to have another race to talk to as equals'."
"So - when my father was involved - that was when this guy escaped? All he was trying to do was get away from guys who were torturing him?"
"Yeah - it wasn't your father's fault, Jim. He couldn't have known. They'd worked on this guy for five solid years - the Special Unit had - I don't doubt they'd driven him insane. In the end, all that was important to him was protecting the experiment. Even as they were vivisecting him, they promised him they'd quit - that they'd leave him alone in peace - if he'd just show them where he'd hid that cargo. I doubt the bastards would have actually - the old guy obviously didn't believe them."
"So that cargo - those embryos - they've never been found?"
"Nope, the Army searched for years - the Special Unit searched for decades - nobody ever found it."
"Well, it's a damn big county,Jaime. Hell, we can't find two teenagers - one of them in a coma - who can't do things like molecular manipulation and move things with their mind or connect with each others brains. A few little embryos would have been a lot easier to find than that. But tell me the truth - do you really think anything they got from that guy was the truth?"
"Well, they didn't - the Special Unit that is - and that's what ultimately got them in trouble. They kept the organization going - paranoid sociopaths recruiting paranoid sociopaths to replace them - and continually grabbing people with holes in their back ground who they thought 'might' be aliens. Then drugging them and torturing them to try to get them to confess. A year and a half ago someone died in their custody during such an interrogation and it was found out - that's when they pulled out these old FDR Presidential proclamations. It was brought to the attention of the current President who instantly revoked them but that still made it at least nominally legal for them to do what they did at the time they did it. The Bureau paid a number of millions of dollars to the family of the last victim to make it all go away and additional compensation to others who were drugged and tortured over the years who had survived it. Obviously, it's not something the Bureau is very proud of - or want made public."
"But still, you really think somewhere out there in the desert is some old stack of petri dishes with dried up human embryos on them?"
"I just don't know. All I know for sure was that creature - the old biologist - he was one tough bastard. He took everything they could dish out - right to the end. Had it been me, I would have never taken the chance of pissing these Antareans off. I can believe they've been around a long time - I sure wouldn't want to come up against one in a dark alley some night."
Jim nodded. "Yeah, I guess I see what you mean. I'm not going to tell my father, though. He's an old man and going senile. He doesn't need to know that in this great battle he's so proud of in the 1950s - well he was on the wrong side."
Across the park, Isabel sighed deeply. This was so nice - she hated to see it end - but she just had time to get Alex back to his house and get back in her own bed before her parents woke up.
"Nice as this is..." started Alex. Isabel smiled.
"I was about to say the same thing. Nice as this is, I'd better get you back home. Thanks for doing this - it means more to me than you know."
Alex smiled at her - sure in his own mind that she meant giving her an alibi - but it had been pleasant in its own right too. Like being with his dream-Izzy only better.
"The pleasure," he said, "...was all mine."
"That's not true, Alex. Not true at all."
Alex smiled again. "Well, maybe we should do this sometimes when your not taking supplies to Max - just to make the cover story stronger... "
"An excellent idea, Mr Whitman...." she said with a smile as she started the engine of the jeep.
The other car carefully followed the jeep to Alex's house where the two officers saw him get out. Then they followed it to the Evans residence where Isabel cut off the engine and headlights a couple hundred feet from the house and coasted the jeep into the driveway.
"Well, only about 5% of stakeouts ever turn up anything," said Jaime.
"Yeah," said Jim. "It wasn't a total loss - I didn't decapitate us by trying to go through that culvert and I learned that what my daddy told me throughout my childhood was 180 degrees out from reality."
"Yeah, well I'd grown up expecting the Bureau to be the good guys too, or I wouldn't have joined. There are a few rotten apples in every barrel, I guess, if the barrel is big enough," said Jaime.
"Well, let's both head for home and get what sleep we can. We no doubt have another long and busy day ahead of us."
Max's hand went down to shut off the timer automatically - just as he had been doing for weeks. Every two hours while he was awake the timer would go off - like it just had - to remind him to reposition Liz's body, an essential thing if someone in a coma is to avoid bedsores. Also something that would doubtless NOT have occurred had Liz still been back at the nursing home.
Unlike Jim and Jaime, Alex and Isabel, and even Jeff Parker, Max wasn't up long after - or perhaps long before - his bedtime. For him it had become normal to be up all night and to sleep all day - with the door of the podchamber closed it was impossible to tell in any event - so that Izzy would be available to dreamwalk Liz while he was awake and she would be availbel to dreamwalk Liz when he was sleeping. Unlike Izzy who had to get up in the middle of the night to make the delivery, Max had been up anyway - although in a few hours he would be sleeping and - if he was lucky - dreamwalking Liz as well. He might even be able to dreamwalk Izzy and tell her that all was well - she'd likely need a nap herself after being up all night,
'Especially if she spends the morning stargazing with Alex,' Max thought to himself.
He briefly wondered if Izzy would ever get up the nerve to tell Alex. Truthfully, he wasn't sure if he would have ever told Liz - had it not been for her accident. Like her, he too feared being rejected. Even now after telling her - only in the abyss of course - Max couldn't help wondering what his wife would really feel about him once she accepted the truth. He'd imagined it both ways.
The first way was hopeful - that she'd awaken and see the pods, see him, see her ring - Max had fashioned it himself, manipulating the molecules of gold in an old watch case that he'd found and placed it on her comatose finger - and realize that everything she'd been told in the abyss was true and then she'd look up at him and smile and shake her head the way she always did when she was pleasantly surprised by something...
Of course, the second way was that she screamed, leaped away from him, tore off the ring, and beat her fists on the door until he either opened it for her or she pounded her way through the metal to go running out onto the desert, gibbering in terror.
'Of course, that's not really going to happen - the running across the desert..., he told himself.
Unfortunately, that wasn't a sudden burst of optimism from Max - it was rather an acknowledgment of a reality - there were limits to his power, and while he could and did provide far better care to Liz than she would have had at the nursing home, he couldn't stop some things from happening.
He looked down at her on the bed. She would always be beautiful to him - was beautiful now - but sentimentality aside, she wasn't in great shape.
The problem was something called disuse atrophy. Disuse atrophy affects muscles that just don't get used much. Except for the muscles that did her breathing, none of Liz's muscles were being exercised. They got nutrition - he fed her three times a day through her feeding tube - and they did get stretched whenever he did her range of motion exercises to keep her joints from getting stiff - and he did those two or three times a day - but you can't build or even keep muscle mass when the muscle is not being used. That's why when an arm or a leg is put in a cast, the cast becomes loose in three of four weeks. The cast hasn't gotten any bigger - the muscles under it have gotten smaller - which was why she wasn't going to be running off into the desert very fast, even if she were scared to death of him. Once she was conscious it would take weeks of exercise before she had her full strength back - before she could even stand up.
Looking down on her dispassionately - always difficult for him to do - her body really was wasted. It looked like one of these frighteningly skinny supermodels - the ones that kept on a starvation diet and had all their molars extracted to give them a starved waif look. Except, of course, the problem wasn't diet - Liz got all the calories she needed - it was just real hard to exercise when you were in a coma.
"Sorry, babe ... I wish we could put some more muscle mass on you. You are going to be as weak as a kitten for a week or two if we get you back to consciousness..."
A chill went through him and he winced involuntarily as he realized what he had just said. He frequently talked out loud to Liz - even though he knew she couldn't hear him. But always before he would have said 'when', not 'if' Liz got back to consciousness. He fought back the tears that threatened to fall on her as he decided to hell with reading the new journals and books that Izzy had brought for him. He needed to do something for Liz.
A half hour later he had finished the sponge bath and toweled her dry - then reached for a clean gown - hesitated and decided to shampoo her hair instead.
"We need to have you looking your best for WHEN you wake up," he said loudly - but even as he said it he had to wonder if it was going to happen. He shook his head sadly. He didn't want those doubts - even if he didn't actually voice them - but they seemed to be growing daily.
Back in Royer Park, the horizon to the east was starting to lighten but the discussion between Jim and Jaime was still going strong.
"So they tortured this guy for nineteen years - tortured him to death - and that's all the information they got out of him?" asked Jim.
"Hey, I just read the records, but those creatures - man they were some kind of tough. A human being would have died when the meteor hit the spacecraft. They lost atmosphere for most of re-entry - the craft busted into about twelve major pieces and God only knows how many minor pieces on impact - but both of them were not only still alive, but able to salvage the cargo and get it hidden somewhere before the Army Air Corps showed up. And these weren't like hand-picked special forces troops or something. One elderly biologist - I guess you would call him a molecular biologist today - and one crewman in a largely automated ship - and it wasn't even the crew member that wound up in captivity - it was the old guy."
"But - you really think that's true? That they were trying to HELP the human race?"
"Like I said, I just read the records. I'm not sure how anyone would have survived the initial injuries those two had - or breathing vacuum for a half-hour or so - and I sure know of no one human that would have survived the drugs and torture that those Special Unit bastards did to the the one who they had for all those years - but that creature did. Whether he was coerced into telling them the truth or not ... that's a different story. What the creature claimed though, was that the universe was sort of a lonely place. There was a lot of life out there - but most of it wasn't intelligent - just real mean. He said they had looked for hundreds of thousands of years for another interstellar race they could deal with as equals.
It seemed like most races that evolved intelligence and a basic level of technology - which they regarded as the knowledge of nuclear fission and the ability to use rockets for primitive purposes - it sounds like the German V-2 was what they decided placed us in that criteria - tended to lapse back into self-destruction. In their explorations they found plenty of ancient civilizations that had climbed the technological level to the point of being able to wipe themselves out in thermonuclear was and had done precisely that - but they hadn't found in hundreds of thousands of years of looking another intelligent civilization that had managed to survive the transition to a true interstellar society.
When they found a civilization here with their automated scouts in 1944 that was right on the cusp of being able to destroy itself the decision was made to try to intercede. It was a unique project - done at great expense - and something the old biologist at least felt really strongly about. The idea was to jumpstart human evolution by taking the samples from the remains of those dead aviators and infusing them with some of the characteristics of these creatures from [url=http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Antares] Antares {/url] themselves. Evolution had been working on them for many millenia longer than they had on homo sapiens and they'd evolved strong survival traits. The hope was that - in just a few tens of thousands of years - the genes would spread through the human race - give us some of the characteristics that allowed them to survive if and when the inevitable nuclear proliferation occurred and when the human race reached out toward space. The old biologist said it would be 'nice to have another race to talk to as equals'."
"So - when my father was involved - that was when this guy escaped? All he was trying to do was get away from guys who were torturing him?"
"Yeah - it wasn't your father's fault, Jim. He couldn't have known. They'd worked on this guy for five solid years - the Special Unit had - I don't doubt they'd driven him insane. In the end, all that was important to him was protecting the experiment. Even as they were vivisecting him, they promised him they'd quit - that they'd leave him alone in peace - if he'd just show them where he'd hid that cargo. I doubt the bastards would have actually - the old guy obviously didn't believe them."
"So that cargo - those embryos - they've never been found?"
"Nope, the Army searched for years - the Special Unit searched for decades - nobody ever found it."
"Well, it's a damn big county,Jaime. Hell, we can't find two teenagers - one of them in a coma - who can't do things like molecular manipulation and move things with their mind or connect with each others brains. A few little embryos would have been a lot easier to find than that. But tell me the truth - do you really think anything they got from that guy was the truth?"
"Well, they didn't - the Special Unit that is - and that's what ultimately got them in trouble. They kept the organization going - paranoid sociopaths recruiting paranoid sociopaths to replace them - and continually grabbing people with holes in their back ground who they thought 'might' be aliens. Then drugging them and torturing them to try to get them to confess. A year and a half ago someone died in their custody during such an interrogation and it was found out - that's when they pulled out these old FDR Presidential proclamations. It was brought to the attention of the current President who instantly revoked them but that still made it at least nominally legal for them to do what they did at the time they did it. The Bureau paid a number of millions of dollars to the family of the last victim to make it all go away and additional compensation to others who were drugged and tortured over the years who had survived it. Obviously, it's not something the Bureau is very proud of - or want made public."
"But still, you really think somewhere out there in the desert is some old stack of petri dishes with dried up human embryos on them?"
"I just don't know. All I know for sure was that creature - the old biologist - he was one tough bastard. He took everything they could dish out - right to the end. Had it been me, I would have never taken the chance of pissing these Antareans off. I can believe they've been around a long time - I sure wouldn't want to come up against one in a dark alley some night."
Jim nodded. "Yeah, I guess I see what you mean. I'm not going to tell my father, though. He's an old man and going senile. He doesn't need to know that in this great battle he's so proud of in the 1950s - well he was on the wrong side."
Across the park, Isabel sighed deeply. This was so nice - she hated to see it end - but she just had time to get Alex back to his house and get back in her own bed before her parents woke up.
"Nice as this is..." started Alex. Isabel smiled.
"I was about to say the same thing. Nice as this is, I'd better get you back home. Thanks for doing this - it means more to me than you know."
Alex smiled at her - sure in his own mind that she meant giving her an alibi - but it had been pleasant in its own right too. Like being with his dream-Izzy only better.
"The pleasure," he said, "...was all mine."
"That's not true, Alex. Not true at all."
Alex smiled again. "Well, maybe we should do this sometimes when your not taking supplies to Max - just to make the cover story stronger... "
"An excellent idea, Mr Whitman...." she said with a smile as she started the engine of the jeep.
The other car carefully followed the jeep to Alex's house where the two officers saw him get out. Then they followed it to the Evans residence where Isabel cut off the engine and headlights a couple hundred feet from the house and coasted the jeep into the driveway.
"Well, only about 5% of stakeouts ever turn up anything," said Jaime.
"Yeah," said Jim. "It wasn't a total loss - I didn't decapitate us by trying to go through that culvert and I learned that what my daddy told me throughout my childhood was 180 degrees out from reality."
"Yeah, well I'd grown up expecting the Bureau to be the good guys too, or I wouldn't have joined. There are a few rotten apples in every barrel, I guess, if the barrel is big enough," said Jaime.
"Well, let's both head for home and get what sleep we can. We no doubt have another long and busy day ahead of us."