Roswell Fanatics

"Twenty years?" asked Bartelson. The last supervisor of special programs had done so for a quarter of a century. Twenty years was a long time, but twenty years would still be on his watch. Twenty years would be a chance for him to cash in personally on the results of this, and surely those on the inside would be the first to benefit.

"I think you better explain to me about this protocol and just how it works."

"Well," said Higby. "The protocol requires a total of fifty observation-years with a potentially infective alien life form....and then five observation-years of interaction with a volunteer human volunteer. We have already observed Tess here for almost ten years, and four years ago something came up that was....interesting. We've been doing some preliminary work, and it suggests a way that we could shortcut the whole time span."

"But how can fifty years take less than fifty years?"

"Oh, those are observation years....if we had two life-forms, it would only take twenty more years. Three life-forms...even less."

Four and a half years ago

Tess wasn't afraid of a little blood, but she was concerned. She'd been poked and prodded by the researchers for years...liver biopsies....bone marrow biopsies...lung biopsies.... But always she'd bled as a result of some procedure they did, and she'd been able to stop it fairly quickly. Sometime during the dark period she had started to bleed spontaneously and she didn't understand....but she certainly was concerned. She wasn't losing a great deal of blood but it had been over twelve hours, and it still hadn't stopped..and she knew of no reason that she would be bleeding from ....there.

As she heard the click of the solenoid she shielded herself from the gas and agian slumped to the floor. This time it was different.

There where four of them this time and she heard one of them referred to as Doctor Higby. She'd overheard his name...he seemed to be more important than the others. Was it possible that he was actually concerned about her health as well?

They had brought a special rollling exam table and other equipment she noticed, stealing a quick peek as they lifted her onto it and secured her legs with straps to the cold metal. She didn't understand....this had never happened before. She thought of trying to resist...but the memory of the four lenses looking down at her stopped her. She had to conceal her capabilities...she had to endure whatever they planned, if she had any chance at all of ever being free. Even so, their was a wrongness she felt as Higby touched her there... As he started to insert the instrument she wanted to scream...

Higby was annoyed that the colposcope was meeting with such resistance...annoyed at himself for not remembering to bring the lubricant..and annoyed at the creature for being so tight down there. The menstrual blood itself was not exactly slippery, but with persistence and force he tore his way past the hymen with the colposcope to get a good look at the cervix.

"Well I'll be damned....it is menstrual blood...the damn thing is menstruating... We need to come back in two weeks.....do a laparoscopic exam. Even if the first few cycles ar anovulatory...eventually we ought to be able to get some of its eggs..."

Tess lay on the bed where they had placed her after they were gone. She wasn't bleeding externally anymore...they'd left something pushed up ... there. And she knew she should have been planning...deciding what she could do with this new resource...how she might use it against them...but she couldn't.

For two weeks she lived and relived that memory...fighting back the tears. Somehow she knew that something had been taken from her...something that it was not their right to take...but only hers to give. She relived that terror and pain for the next six months...as they came back and shoved the laparoscope through her abdomen to manipulate her intestines and find the eggs her ovaries would produce. And while that was painful...and painful that they were taking a part of her away to use against her...it wasn't as painful as the memories of that first time with Higby....

"Let me get this straight..." said Bartelson, "..you want to BREED it? Is that even possible?"

"Well, yes,...at least we believe so. Then by observing both the specimen and any offspring that are produced simultaneously....well we can get to the fifty years of total observation much more quickly."

"But I mean...well wouldn't you need another of the same species?"

"We did in vitro fertilization on the eggs we removed with human sperm from donors. The embryos appeared normal through the first divisions at least. We tried implanting them in some non-human primates and they quickly died....no surprise there, human embryos don't survive implantation in non-human primates either. No...the simplest would be to incubate the embryos in the specimen itself...do a caesarean section as it approaches maturity. The offspring and the original specimen will never interact. It will simply give us another specimen to observe...and a fresh start, since our first specimen seems to bear us a grudge about her first encounter with us..."

"So you would do what...artificial insemination of the specimen you have?"

"I considered that but our psychologist, Dr. Phillips reminded me that to use the creature's mind control ...or even that of the offspring...we'll have to assess it's ability to interact with humans. It would be instructive if we introduced a human male to mate with it...of course, he would have to be expendable...she may reject him with extreme prejudice....and even if she accepted him...well...he'd be in isolation for at least 20 years..."

"How would you get anyone to volunteer for that?"

Higby smiled. "This is the black world, Mr. Bartelson. We needn't depend upon volunteers..."

It was the State championship semi-final game at the Roswell Municipal Athletic Center pitting the last two teams eliminated against each other in the single-elimination tournament to determine who would be third and fourth for the state title, and West Roswell was leading 4 to 3 in the bottom of the ninth inning. There were two outs and Albuquerque Central had runners on first and second as their best hitter came to bat. Kyle looked at Donnie Fowler on the mound. He didn’t much care for the arrogant SOB, but he was praying that he had just enough for one more batter, because if he didn’t this game could be lost with a single pitch. He signaled for a fast ball, low and away, and watched in disgust as Donnie shook the signal off. He signaled it again.. 'What’s wrong with Fowler?' he asked himself, '.. this guy eats curve balls for breakfast.' Still the pitcher shook him off.

“Time out, ump!”

The catcher walked slowly out to the mound.

“What’s the matter?”

“What’s the matter with you, Valenti? Call the right pitch.”

Kyle gritted his teeth before answering. “That is the right pitch…Velasquez is not the right guy to give a good pitch to. Toss him fast balls, low and away. If he swings at them he’ll probably miss them. If he hits one it’ll certainly go foul. If we are lucky and he fans the third…we win. But he’s the best hitter they’ve got and even if he walks, the pitcher is batting next. Even if they pinch hit him, it’ll be better than serving up something hittable to Velasquez.”

Kyle really didn’t like Fowler if the truth be known, and it had nothing to do with baseball. It had to do, strangely enough, with football. Fowler had been the West Roswell High quarterback the last two years, and they’d been pretty unremarkable years for the varsity…and Kyle understood why. Fowler was lazy…never prepared for games. He had a lot of natural talent but he couldn’t be coached. Eventually the opponents would figure out a way to beat what he was doing and Fowler would ignore the coach’s directions on how to adjust. The varsity had led every game at the half for the last two years, but they had finished the season with two wins and six losses each year. The freshman team, with Kyle as quarterback, had finished with no losses and nine wins..including the regional championship game. And whatever love there may have been between Donnie Fowler and Kyle Valenti…which wasn’t much…ended the day the coach had told Fowler that if he didn’t start paying attention, the coach would start Kyle Valenti next year. Fowler and a dozen returning juniors would be seniors next year, and they’d already said they weren’t going to let any underclassmen break in to their clique.

“Listen, Valenti….just because we don’t have a freshman baseball team…because we have to let freshmen play on the big boys team…well don’t get the idea you know what the hell you are doing. This bozo can’t hit my curve ball….you just get back there and catch it…”

As he walked angrily back to the plate, Kyle knew what would happen…and with the first pitch it did.

As the bat went “crack” Kyle watched the ball sail through the gap between first and second base, the second baseman being unable to make the play because he was held close to the bag by the lead of the runner. But the center fielder made a great play, fielding the ball on one bounce, and as the runner approached third base fired a shot just toward the left of home plate. Kyle moved into the path of the runner, knowing the ball would come on the bounce, giving him only a fraction of a second to field it and tag the runner out. The runner came in a slide, hoping to go under the tag…or to knock the ball free. Kyle caught it at the last second, tagged the runner as they collided…and was promptly knocked onto his butt. But the ball never came loose….

“You’re OUT!”

There was pandemonium in the crowd and most of Kyle’s teammates rushed to congratulate him. In the midst of the crowd the coach walked up to Kyle. “Good play, son…” he said with a pat on his back. Then he looked at Donnie.

“Fowler, you ever shake off another signal like that, you’ll never play for me again.”

Jim Valenti walked up to his son as he left the locker room. “Hell of a game, Kyle. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad. I just got lucky…that was all.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” said Coach Crenshaw. “Kyle works hard and listens to his coach. If the older kids on the team were half as coachable as he is…well we’d be getting ready right now to play for first place. You should be proud of your son, Sheriff.”

“Thanks Coach Crenshaw….I am. Kyle, you want to head for home? Or maybe to the Crashdown to get a milkshake? I’ve got to be at work in another hour?”

Kyle considered it. Liz was probably working at the Crashdown…and at one time he’d thought that the two of them might someday…., but then he’d seen her once in Biology lab staring at Evans. Why kid himself? The girl was head over heels for Evans…no matter if she wanted to admit it to herself yet or not. “I think I’ll just stay around for the next game, Dad. Maybe next year we’ll be going against one of these two teams. Might as well see what they’ve got.”

“Are you sure? It’s a long walk home, it’s not like you brought your bicycle.”

Kyle didn’t quite wince when he heard about the bicycle. Most of the guys on varsity were already driving, and many had their own cars. He had one too…his father had bought it for him at a police auction….a late model Mustang…or at least what was left of it. It had been used by drug smugglers until they’d been stopped. The police had run it off the road and it had taken a lot of body damage. But he and his father had been patching it up…and it was almost ready for a primer coat of paint. Then it was going to be painted candy apple red. He hoped to have it done in time for his sixteenth birthday, only three weeks away. But in the meantime he was suffering the embarrassment of being a freshman…bumming rides from other people, or letting the older kids make fun of him riding a bike.

“A bunch of the team is staying to watch, Dad…I’m sure I can get a ride with one of them.”

“Well, OK then…great game, son. I’m really proud.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Hour 13 Day 3646 Control Room, The Facility, 40 feet underground, 28.2 nautical miles northwest of Roswell, New Mexico

There were seven teams...fourteen people... who manned the control room that provided 24-7 oversight of the specimen. They typically worked five hour shifts out of every 25 hours...when not off for vacation or weekends. The rules on oversight were tight but that didn't mean they couldn't be stretched just a little bit when the boss asked you to.

Durning and Brosby were both ex-Special Forces...and they were going off shift in a little over an hour.

"I've got a special job for you gentlemen," said Higby, ".. a little overtime. I think Brosby might need an extra $10,000 soon," said Higby with a smile.

Brosby glared at the doctor...he'd been ribbed about this enough. Brosby had bragged about being a chess grandmaster and when assigned to the duties a year ago had offered to bet anyone a thousand dollars he could beat the specimen in a game of chess. Ten of his fellows had taken the bet...at a thousand dollars each. But whatever weaknesses Tess had, Higby was pretty sure that chess wasn't one of them. Years before Brosby had shown up all of the other specimen monitors had long since given up playing manually...allowing the computer to play instead. That at least extended the games. But Brosby had shot his mouth off and was within one shift of having to pay the price for his bragging, which in fact was one of the reasons Higby had chosen Brosby and Durning for the overtime job. He was offering them each $10,000 for a simple snatch job.

The general criteria for the quarry was discussed with both of the men...then Higby left.

The rules said that two men should always be in the control room but as Brosby started the chess program on the computer and put it in manula mode, Durning could stand it no longer.

"She's going to kick your ass again....then you are going to holler and scream and cuss...again... and I'm going to have to listen to it...again. Why don't you just accept the fact that she's too damn good and pay the ten thousand bucks?"

"No friggin freak is going to beat me.."

"What do you mean she isn't going to beat you? She ALWAYS beats you."

"Well not this time."

"Hey, if you want to make a fool of yourself...well OK I guess. But I don't have to watch. I'm going to go down to the armory and draw out some trank guns for when we get off shift. Collecting the ten grand each for doing this is a hell of a lot more likely than you getting ten grand for winning your asinine bet."

"Well go ahead. The tape is running...I'll have it for evidence."

"Yeah...evidence that she kicked you ass at chess for the hundred and fifth time..."

As Durning left the room he saw Brosby start the machine and key in the first move.

Hour 13 Day 3646 Specimen holding facility, The Facility, 120 feet underground, 28.2 nautical miles northwest of Roswell, New Mexico

It was a day much like any other day...her captors went to considerable lengths to keep her from being able to alter anything... and one might think that Tess's mood would be pretty much as it had been for the past nine years...one of hopeful resignation. But if one thought that, one would be wrong. In fairness, Tess had probably endured her captivity about as well as one could have expected but even if her environment was unchanging...Tess wasn't. Tess had reviewed her options for escape for something like the four thousandth time...and nothing had changed. But Tess had changed...in fact, Tess was still changing.

Tess was no longer the little girl she had once been, her body had changed and with it her endocrine system. It wasn't just that her formerly flat chest had filled out substantially, or even that she was now troubled every 28 days or so by the onset of her period, it was more than that. Tess had only really lived nine years, but intellectually was probably the equal of most adults, at least in areas she had been given access to in her learning programs.

Her body, however, was physiologically the equivalent of a human female between the ages of fifteen and sixteen, a time of considerable endocrine driven angst between most young females and their parents. Tess, of course, did not have parents...the only authority figures she knew were the employees of the organization that held her captive.

So perhaps it was adolescent rebellion, perhaps it was due to endocrine induced anger, perhaps it was due to the fact that she was feeling sorry for herself today...but for whatever reason her normally mature self-discipline decided to take a short holiday.

When the computer screen lit up with the chess program, Tess waited for it to make its first move. When it took over three seconds to do so, she realized she wasn't playing the computer. It was seldom that any of her captors played in manual mode anymore, in fact she believed it likely there was only one of her captors that did so. Based upon the timing of the computer programs they started for her, Tess thought there were most likely seven teams that observed her...and only when this team was on duty was the chess game played in manual...and she disliked it when that happened.

The computer was a worthy opponent...reliable...and fast. It would calculate for about 2.5 second for each move....whereas in manual mode the controller might take nearly a minute for each move. Tess wasn't really sure if the controller was really that slow, or if they were perhaps time-sharing their attention with multiple other activities, but in any event it made the game tedious. She didn't get much recreation, playing chess was actually about it. And now her precious recreation time was being wasted by this captor. She realized she should go along with it....draw out the game...not really show her true potential...but in a world that struck Tess as not very fair to begin with...well, today this was the final straw.

'Just get the one game over with,' she told herself, 'then it'll go back to computer mode.'

And if that had been it....if she'd only beaten Brosby as expeditiously as possible, holding nothing back, it might have been OK. Brosby would have just felt that he was having a bad day at chess...but that's not what happened. Tess, feeling the need for a little teenage rebellion, decided to beat him with attitude.

The first six moves went relatively quickly for Brosby as he established a standard Alekhine's Defense. He was, he thought, doing quite well...perhaps the specimen was having a bad day. But as he made his seventh move, the voice came from the speaker...

"White queen's bishop to White king's rook five....Mate in 12 moves."

Brosby had played chess for over 20 years...been a grandmaster for almost ten years...and he had never...ever...heard anyone predict a victory 12 moves out. 'The arrogant little bitch,' he thought, '...who does she think she's dealing with..?'

Brosby's face turned red with anger as he keyed in a very aggressive move...forcing the bishop to retreat.

"With THAT move, it's now Mate in NINE moves...," came the young girl's voice over the speaker...dripping derision.

Brosby smiled as he swooped in to take the white queen, but the smile was short lived as Tess's rook came in to force him to make a disadvantageous trade for his bishop after which his defense quickly crumbled.

"Check...mate in one move," came the voice.

Brosby looked at the screen in disbelief....this thing had beaten him as badly as he had ever been beaten....and she was practically laughing at him.

'Friggin little freak...no wonder she's good at chess....that's all she does all day.'


Tess waited for the next move...knowing she had won. It was perfectly obvious...the black king was in check, there was only one move that was possible...and that one would put it in a position where the next move would be checkmate...yet still the hesitation. Wishing the situation were different didn't change it...or else she'd have been out of this place years ago....

"Well are you going to move or not? Why not get this over with and let me play the computer...at least it won't make me wait forever between moves..."

Brosby did a slow burn. 'The little bitch needs to be taught a lesson,' he told himself. But how do you do that to someone you can't get near? Suddenly he had an idea.

Tess was shocked back to reality when the voice came over the computer. She'd heard human voices talk...when she'd feigned unconsciousness when they'd taken blood and tissue and eggs from her...but she'd never actually been addressed by one of them over the speaker...

"OK Tess, you got an attitude today, huh? Well pretty soon you won't have so damn much time to practice chess...let me show you what is going to happen to you..."

The DVD was one from Brosby's private collection of videos. The woman had actually done a few years of summer stock before the easy availability of drugs and booze had caused her to change her career to porn films so she wasn't actually that bad an actress.
The man had been chosen not so much for his acting ability as for the size of the equipment he brought with him to the job and he really wasn't much of an actor...but then he didn't have a lot of lines to say anyway.

The plot was a staple of porn films...an innocent young thing being raped and discovering during the rape that she really liked it in a sort of sexual Stockholm Syndrome sort of way.

The actress wasn't really that young and as for innocent....well the woman had starred with the same actor in three previous films...and as for rape...well, that scene took six takes over three days, and the man went through a half dozen Viagra in the filming of it.

It was, in fact, a poorly made porn film which wouldn't have convinced anybody who was more than 16 years old, unless they'd been cut off from the real world their entire life. Of course Tess was only nine really...and HAD been cut off from the real world for her whole life.

It was probably not a surprise when the video started that Tess identified with the woman. It was the first time Tess had ever seen a woman...but the shape of her hips and the fullness of her chest seemed to be like Tess...or at least like Tess was now becoming. Tess had seen her captors in their protective suits...but she'd never seen women's clothes...not even the skimpy outfit the woman wore. But it was apparent as the man grabbed her and tore at them...that she wouldn't have them on for long. She'd never seen men's clothes either...but he didn't keep them on long either. Revealed in her nakedness, the woman appeared to be very much like Tess...at least a much older Tess. The man however.....

The man had an appendage that Tess didn't recognize...and while she had nothing to compare it with really, it struck her as ....well huge. And the woman was in terror of it...and of him. Although the woman screamed and cried out for help...then for mercy...the man flung her down on something similar to Tess's own sleeping mat and impaled her again and again with the appendage...the woman shrieking in obvious pain and terror.

"NO!!!," Tess screamed at the computer speaker as she slammed her right fist into the LCD screen...causing sparks to come from the screen and causing the picture to be lost. But even then she could hear the moans and groans of the woman. Tess retreated into the corner of the room, tears streaking down her face.

She'd put up with so much...for so many years...but they'd never do THAT to her...she'd kill them first. She didn't care about the explosive...didn't care about escape...she'd die before she let them do that to her...and take as many of them as she could to their deaths with her.

"Jesus," said Brosby as he saw the LCD screen shatter. It brought him to his senses. He had a job that paid $120k a year for a twenty-five hour week, and he'd risked it just to taunt some stupid freak.
'You're an idiot," he told himself. 'It's not like she's even human...."
No, he decided, getting upset because Tess beat him at chess was like getting upset with a cheetah for outrunning you or an eagle for being able to fly when you couldn't. She wasn't human. Hell, the computer could beat him too, so what. Quickly he removed the DVD from the player and put it back in his backpack. By the time Durning was back from the armory all seemed normal.

"Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

"No...well, she beat me again at chess...oh, and the LCD screen failed. I put in a work order for a new one to be put in...next time she's knocked out."

"Well, with any luck at all that will be in about two or three hours...when we bring her a boyfriend," Durning said with a smile.

The crowd was starting to leave the Roswell athletic center. The final game was more of a blowout than the previous one, Farmington beating a very overmatched Clovis team by a score of nine to nothing.

A lot of the guys on the varsity baseball team had stayed to the end, and Kyle had sort of expected to get a ride back home from one of the older guys that had their licenses and cars...but it didn't quite work out that way. As one of the upperclassmen slowed up...clearly intending to offer Kyle a lift, Donnie Fowler cut him off with his car.

"Anderson...let him walk. The little turd thinks he'll be varsity quarterback next year...well hell, he needs to get in to shape..."

Kyle was irritated, but when your father is the Sheriff, you can't afford to go getting in to fights. It didn't matter what was said, the question his father always asked was, 'Who threw the first punch?' and it wasn't going to be him. It was only three miles and the exercise would be good for him. He slung his gear bag over his shoulder and started hiking towards home.

It was nearing dark as he approached the park a mile from his home. He could keep to the sidewalks with their streetlights, but he could save about a quarter mile by cutting diagonally through the park. In the end, the thought of getting home in time to see a TV program he wanted won out, and he started on the well worn trail through the trees. He'd gone about 200 yards when he felt something hit his gear bag...followed quickly by a stinging in his right buttocks.

It was twilight...too light for the night vision scope...not light enough really for the standard telescopic sight. But the target looked perfect...a healthy specimen about the right age. They had stalked a few others but they'd either stayed in their group or kept to plae that were just too damn conspicuous for a snatch. This was their best bet so far.

It was simply bad luck that the equipment bag swung down to cover the target's right back while the dart was in the air.... but understandable. The dart didn't travel nearly as fast as a bullet, making a miss or blocked shot much more of a possibility. Brosby's shot was a hit...but the placement was poor. It took almost a second for the tranquilizer to be completely expelled from the dart...and the target had pulled the dart from his butt in a fraction of that time.

To Kyle it had felt like a bee sting and he had reflexively pulled the dart out without even thinking...but he still felt a warmth in the area that seemed to be spreading out to the rest of his body.

He dropped the gear bag and ran, trying to zig-zag and keep low, hoping he could outdistance whoever was doing this. He heard another couple of darts whizz by as he headed deeper into the brush, hoping to find cover...and he almost made it...at least until the dart caught him in the middle of the back...right next to his spine.

He should have been able to reach it...but he found his hands unsteady..his balance unsteady from the first dart. It took several seconds for him to reach back and find it..... but even as he finally grasped the dart and pulled it free, unconsciousness was already overtaking him.

Higby and the clinical psychologist were in the holding area when Brosby and Durning returned with the new ‘volunteer.’ The discussion was brief.

“Well, Dr. Carlson,…do we tranquilize Tess when we enter the holding cell?’ asked Higby, “ If we don’t, she’ll wake up when the gas wears off….before this one does. If we tranquilize her, he ought to wake up first. The risk, of course, is that she’ll attack him immediately. Which way do you think would be less threatening?”

“Well, I believe if he was still out…it would likely be less threatening to her, “ said Carlson. “It has really been nine years since she was conscious when a human was present…although clearly she knows when she wakes up that we have taken samples from her. Perhaps if she awakes and finds him unconscious…no obvious threat to her,…well she’ll be less likely to use her powers against him… It might give her time to get more comfortable with him. And honestly…that’s the key. Physiologically they are both teenagers, despite her powers. If we just leave them in close proximity long enough…and she doesn’t kill him,…well the rest is inevitable.”

“I suppose it really doesn’t matter. I mean, if she does kill him, we could still do artificial insemination.”

“I’m sure we could, but we’d lose a chance to discover more about the specimen…and we’ll need that information if we are ever to be successful at getting it…or its progeny’s cooperation in using those incredible mental powers to…well, I guess you’d say warp the minds of people whose minds we need to change.”

“Well, OK. We’ll try it your way.”

After he was stripped of all clothes and a chip inserted under his right scapula, Kyle was placed on a gurney and taken to the elevator to roll him down the long passage to the specimen holding cell.




Tess had dreaded hearing the solenoid click and the gas release for almost four hours. She had been a fool, she realized, to taunt the observer. The observers had near total control over her and she had spent most of her life in an attempt to make them underestimate her … to lull them into making one mistake that would allow her to escape. But in the end, the mistake had been hers.

Nine years of frustration and feelings of hopelessness had caused her to strike out, not from a position of strength, but rather from one of weakness. Oh, she’d gotten a reaction alright, one that she’d never gotten before…direct communication. She’d clearly communicated her contempt, and the controller had clearly indicated an ability to punish her for her contempt. ‘Would he really do that?’ she asked herself. She knew they feared contact with her…that’s why they wore the suits. 'But if one of them didn’t fear the contact…would he really….?'

Her mind recoiled from the memory of the humiliation and pain that had been inflicted on the woman, and she struggled to keep from showing her fear by shaking. If only she had today to live over again….

As she heard the solenoid click, it seemed like her heart stopped, but as the hiss of the gas into the ventilators reached her ears she did automatically what she’d done for eight years…slumped to the floor of the cell, her eyes closed…but the fear already growing inside of her.




The Telazole hadn’t improved any over the last nine years…but then Kyle hadn’t been recently disemboweled, so his dreams weren’t quite the nightmares that Tess had experienced. In fact, after a few terrifying thoughts about the final in Mrs. Murgatroyd’s algebra class, his dreams were mainly about sports.

• It was fourth and four with 3 seconds to play in the final quarter of the big game and the young quarterback looked down the field to see a deep prevent defense. They had thirty yards to make for a touchdown, and only one play to do it, and trailing by four points, that play wasn’t going to be a field goal. He called for a split formation with only one back behind him to cover anyone who blitzed. As Kyle went under center he barked the signals…eyes on the linebackers both were threatening to blitz. As the ball was snapped he took a three step drop, continuing his reads. His wide receivers were closely covered …his tight end had been knocked back onto the ground… and the linebackers were both coming with outside blitzes that would soon collapse the pocket. He couldn’t wait for the wide receivers to get open..there would be no time. He tucked the ball away and headed up the middle leaving the linebackers in back of him.
  
  When he made it through a small hole off tackle, Kyle was in open field and he took off for the goal line. The wide receivers were still on their routes and for several seconds drew the defensive backs with them before they realized he’d broken containment. They came back fast, but the call had been flag patterns, and the defenders had to come back from the corners of the field as he continued up the middle. As he approached the goal line he could see it would be close.
  
  Either of the defensive backs could have knocked him down…both were coming with their best speed and both were going to catch him at the five yard line, but by aiming for the spot where they would converge, Kyle knew that both would hit him simultaneously. It would hurt…and hurt badly…but with the right timing their momentum would cancel and his speed would tumble them into the end zone. So that’s what he did…right in between them.
  
  The impact from both sides staggered him, but Kyle hung on to the ball..staggering across the goal line before he collapsed. The home crowd went wild with applause and the West Roswell cheerleaders charged onto the field to join his teammates in congratulating him. One of them he’d never seen before. She had short curly blonde hair and was possibly the most beautiful thing Kyle had ever seen.

Kyle figured he was groggy from the hit as he staggered to his feet…but as his eyes cleared the dream faded. The young lady was still there…but that certainly wasn’t a West Roswell cheerleader outfit she was wearing. He knew it was a dream….and threatening to become a wet dream momentarily…at least until she raised her hand toward him and suddenly there was a golden flash. Then the lights went out.

The fear had been near overwhelming as the memory of the video replayed itself in Tess's mind. She'd been afraid that the quaking of her body would give away the fact that she wasn't really unconscious...until the thought occurred to her.

That would never happen to her...she'd never let it. They'd given her a weapon that would insure that such torture would never happen.

The chip was buried under her right scapula, but her tissue totally surrounded it. Even if they somehow managed to drug her....or to leave the anesthetic gas on longer than her small bubble of air would allow her to breathe...well, it would only take a few seconds to dissolve that chip. She'd rather die in a flash of heat than to endure something like that...or worse, to eternally endure the memory of such pain and horror.

She reached with her mind into her back and felt the chip there, already preparing herself to use the energies that would dissolve it, and somehow with that assurance found the resolve to lay there still as the door to the chamber opened.

"Where do we want him?" asked Durning.

"Just flop him on the bed," said Higby over the computer speaker.

"Yeah...I hope we get back to the control room before Tess wakes up," said Brosby. "THIS I've got to see..."

It took only a few seconds for the suited figures of Durning and Brosby to pull the body from the gurney and drop it unceremoniously on the sleeping pad, then retreat back toward the decon area. As quickly as that, Tess found herself alone with the creature.

She waited on the floor where she'd fallen, feigning unconsciousness for the proper time...her courage kept up only by the feel of the capsule in her mind. 'You can stop this, Tess,' she told herself. 'You can stop this at any time...'

When she at last brought herself to her feet she moved cautiously to get a better look at it. The chest structure was flatter...much like the creature in the recording, but while it had the appendage it was ...smaller...and ...flaccid.

Somehow, the sight of it was affecting her emotionally...she didn't understand why. It didn't seem all that threatening somehow. Perhaps it was because it was drugged...Tess remembered those hours of that first year she'd spent that way...so vulnerable. She wouldn't want anything...not even this...to go through something like that.

She watched it as it twitched and moved during its drugged sleep. She was still afraid of it...but...but somehow she felt some sort of a kinship with it as well.

But all that changed as it woke up...as it struggled to its feet looking at her...the fear came back...and as she saw the appendage grow...the creature obviously preparing itself to impale her...she didn't hesitate. She raised her hand and struck...knocking it back against the wall where it slumped to the floor. She ran to the opposite corner of the room, huddling there shaking with fright.

In the observation room, Dr. Higby looked at Dr. Carlson.

"Not a particularly good start to the courtship..."

"No, no, indeed..."