Comes The Inquisitor *Series*(AU,TEEN) Complete - 9/23

Finished stories set in an alternate universe to that introduced in the show, or which alter events from the show significantly, but which include the Roswell characters. Aliens play a role in these fics. All complete stories on the main AU with Aliens board will eventually be moved here.

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Kathy W
Obsessed Roswellian
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Joined: Thu Oct 31, 2002 5:06 am

Post by Kathy W »

Hello to everyone reading! *wave*

Misha: You're right--either "it" or "that thing" is no way to refer to a living, breathing, sentient being. Yvonne and Pierce go round and round about that in a little while. ;)

That's interesting that Spanish has no "it". I remember being surprised that Irish Gaelic (technically speaking) has no "yes". One answers with the verb in question. For example, "Are you going to church?" is answered with "Going", not "yes".

Sorry I'm complicating things for your mom. :shock: I thought the extra aliens already on Earth were going to be the biggest complicating factor. Between Dee's school friends and all the people at the Army base and all the other aliens.......let's just say there are a lot more characters in Book 3. ;) Methinks Mom is going to be even more upset with me a bit later. LOL!






CHAPTER TEN


July 18, 1947, 12:15 p.m.

Proctor residence





“What....happened?” Brivari repeated haltingly.

Emily looked down in astonishment at the hand gripping her wrist as she struggled for an appropriate answer to Brivari’s question. So much had happened since he had been out of commission that a brief answer was basically impossible. Where would she start? The rival aliens? The rescued sacs? Jaddo’s capture? Was he even capable of following such a convoluted train of thought in his present state?

“Hybrids!” Brivari gasped again impatiently.

“Safe,” Emily answered, reverting to one word answers for simplicity.

“Jaddo?”

“Captured,” Emily said quietly.

The hand fell from her wrist, sank back down on the bed. “We think he’s alive,” Emily hastened to add. “But your….hybrids are safe. I know that much.”

Brivari started to sit up. “Have to....go,” he said, pushing himself up with difficulty as Emily watched in alarm. He wasn’t in any shape to walk down the hall, never mind wander out into the desert, in this form or any other.

“You can’t,” Emily said firmly, and was rewarded with an answering glare that made it clear his personality was still very much intact despite his present physical condition. “You’re not strong enough,” she clarified, wondering for the umpteenth time why she had to wind up with the grumpier aliens on the planet. “You’ll never make it.”

Brivari ignored her and tried to stand up, with “tried” being the operative word. Emily pushed him back down by the shoulders. “I don’t know if you remember this, but you almost got caught after you escaped,” she said in stern, parental tones. “Now is not the best time to go blundering about in full view. And don’t even think about turning into something else,” she added, as she perceived his shoulders beginning to recede, although that might have been her imagination. “If you do that, you’ll never have enough energy to get there, never mind get yourself back.”

Brivari tried to stand up again; this time he was more successful, although he had to clutch the bedside table for support. Emily shook her head as he walked unsteadily to the window and looked out at the bright summer day. He looked like hell. She knew where he was going, and he’d never make it.

“Okay, I give up,” she said in exasperation. “Frankly, I don’t think you’re well enough to stand up, never mind go anywhere. But we’ve knocked ourselves out keeping you in one piece, so if you’re foolish enough to go anyway, I may as well help. I’ll drive you there.”

“No,” Brivari said at once, in a steadier voice than he had previously used. “No....offense, but this is....not for you.”

“No argument there,” Emily said tartly, “but if you insist on going right now, you don’t have a choice.”

“I will go alone,” Brivari insisted, his voice taking on an edge.

Emily sighed. “Look, I won’t go into the cave with you if you don’t want me to. I’ll just park at the base and wait. Or if you can’t make the climb alone, and I seriously doubt you can, I’ll do what I can to help you up and then I’ll wait…..”

She stopped, her mouth open, her next word dying on her lips as she stared at the expression on Brivari’s face. His eyes glittered, his expression feral, as he advanced on her with menace in every shaky step. Even in this condition, he could still intimidate.

“How do you know about that?” he hissed furiously.

Emily backed up, stopping abruptly as she reached the wall. A moment ago, she would have sworn he wasn’t strong enough to swat a fly. Now she was seriously reminded of a wild animal who had just discovered some hapless human stumbling into its nest. Could he hurt her? Would he hurt her? After all they’d done for him? For all of them?

“I will ask you one more time,” Brivari said in a dangerous voice. “How do you know of the hybrids’ hiding place?”

“Jaddo,” Emily answered quickly, back pressed against the wall. “He took me there.”

A look of puzzlement crossed Brivari’s face. “Jaddo took you there?” he echoed.

“Yes, Jaddo,” Emily repeated. “And you know him—you know what he’s like. If he took me there, he must have had an awfully good reason.”

Brivari pondered this for a moment. “Why?” he finally demanded. “Why did he take you there?”

Determined not to look as unnerved as she felt, Emily pushed herself off the wall and took two steps forward to stand directly in front of him. Two steps were all she could take. “A lot has happened since you were captured,” she said, keeping her voice steady with effort. “You disappeared seven days ago. You were held prisoner for three days before you escaped, and you’ve been unconscious for all practical purposes for the past four days. Now, I can stand here and go through the whole story if you like, or I can drive you out to the cave and do the storytelling later. You’re the guardian. It’s your call.”

Brivari stared at her for so long that Emily began to doubt he would speak at all. She forced herself to hold his gaze, determined not to be the one who blinked first. A torrent of emotions was crossing his face: Confusion, anger, fear. She kept her eyes locked on his, watching his feelings roll past like numbers on a carnival wheel, wondering where it would stop.

Finally he spoke. “Take me there.

Emily nodded. “Give me ten minutes.”

“No. Now.

“No,” Emily replied firmly. “I need a few minutes to make arrangements for someone to look after Dee while I’m gone. I’m her guardian. That’s my call.”

She saw him turn away in frustration as she walked out of the room, watched him sink into the rocking chair as she rounded the doorway. He was back to looking weak and helpless, all traces of strength gone. Could he really have hurt her, or was that all an act? Emily decided she’d rather not know. If it was an act, it was a damned good one.

Hurrying down the stairs, Emily headed for the phone. Dee was playing at Anthony Evans’s house; perhaps Dee could stay there while she was out. Dee would be disappointed later that she missed the trip, but she really didn’t want to drag her daughter into all of this again while she was happily engaged in something normal.

Picking up the phone, Emily dialed the Evans’s number, tapping her foot impatiently while the phone rang. This would be so much easier if it were Jaddo that were here now. He knew what had happened; he’d brought her to the cave himself. It would take ages to explain to Brivari what she wouldn’t have had to explain to Jaddo at all.

Ironic, isn’t it? Emily thought, as she waited for someone to answer the phone. Who would have thought the day would come when she was desperately wishing she had Jaddo to deal with instead of Brivari.




******************************************************





Eagle Rock Military Base




Jaddo stared at the human female as soldiers pulled her backwards toward the door to his prison. Her eyes were wide with incomprehension but, to her credit, she wasn’t panicking like the rest of them. Humans, Jaddo thought derisively. They were capable of so much, and they accomplished so little. Ordinarily, discovering that he was able to have a semi-private conversation with one of his more sympathetic captors would have been good news. Under the circumstances, however, it meant nothing. It would not change what was coming.

The female was literally pulled from the room as more agitated humans swarmed in, some dressed in uniforms, some in those glaring white coats. The soldiers ringed his bed, pointing their loathsome weapons full of drugs at him, while the white-coated variety, who appeared to fancy themselves some sort of healers, excitedly checked their machines, applied strange instruments to him, and chattered nonstop to each other. Jaddo ignored them. He rolled his head back to face the far wall and resumed his motionless pose. Let them play with their new toy. He would not give them the satisfaction of twitching so much as a finger.

As the humans dithered amongst themselves, Jaddo pondered the information the female had given him. So....Brivari had escaped. David Proctor had been right. The girl’s father had argued against Jaddo’s rescue attempt, saying that Brivari might escape all by himself, and it appeared he had done just that. So all this was for nothing, Jaddo thought bitterly. I am captive for nothing.

At least now his course of action was clear. Uncertain as to whether or not Brivari remained captive or even lived, Jaddo had wavered over whether or not to attempt to postpone the inevitable. If he were the last remaining Warder, it was his duty to keep himself alive as long as possible. Now that he knew Brivari had successfully freed himself, that question was settled. There was no point in prolonging his agony. He could just let go.

The humans’ chatter abruptly stopped as another human male entered the room. Jaddo recognized him—this had been the first face he had seen when he initially awakened. This one was of higher rank, and it showed; he did not get excited and flap about as many of the other idiots did. His gaze was thoughtful. Appraising. Challenging.

Jaddo was careful not to look directly at the higher-ranking human; his Covari peripheral vision enabled him to observe the human quite closely while still appearing to stare fixedly at the wall. The human studied him in total silence for a very long time, causing Jaddo to feel a passing admiration for his level of self control. Most of the humans he had seen here were excitable, high-strung creatures. This one was different.

The human circled him several times, staring at him with that measuring gaze. At one point he knelt down directly in Jaddo’s line of vision, and Jaddo carefully fixed his gaze on a hair on the human’s head to avoid looking him in the eye. He knew that if he did look the human in the eye, he would lose his own self control, and that would do him no good. Because nothing was working; he could summon no energy to free himself from these restraints. He couldn’t burst the glass containers that held that vile medication in the soldiers’ guns like he should have been able to, or dim the lights, or use any of his enhancements. Most horrifying of all, he could not shift. He was trapped, in this form, in this room, with these contemptible creatures, and he did not know how.

When he had first awakened and realized his limitations, Jaddo had thought that maybe the humans had obtained one of the five-sided devices that Amar had used during their confrontation. Although he had watched the human soldier destroy the device, that did not mean there weren’t more of them. But that device had not prevented him from shifting, and its effects had felt different. Fighting Amar, Jaddo could still feel his power building within him—he just couldn’t release it, like water held back by a dam. Now there was no water; no power surged within him, no energy, nothing. It wasn’t a case of something unable to break free. There was simply nothing there to begin with.

But no matter. His enhancements were relatively new; a Covari’s real weapon was his ability to shapeshift. Power or no power, he could still change his shape to something no restraint could hold, could make himself look like anyone or anything and make his escape. But his cells refused to respond to his attempts to expand or contract them. At first he had written off this failure to exhaustion, but even then, he had known. Even when too tired to shift, he should still be able to feel his cells attempting to obey him. Instead he felt nothing, and realizing what that meant he had panicked, thrashing about like the caged animal he was only to be drugged again, sinking back down into an oblivion that was curiously welcome. Consciousness would be far worse, he was certain.

And it was. Lying here, strapped down, trapped in every imaginable sense of the word, he had his first real taste of how humans existed, and it made him hate them all the more. How did they stand being trapped in one shape? How was it possible that their brains held such enormous potential and they used practically none of it? They were weak, wasteful creatures, like animals with technology they didn’t even know existed, much less know how to use. We should never have come here, Jaddo thought bitterly. They aren’t worth it.

Jaddo watched from the corner of his eye as the high-ranking human continued to study him. The gun-toting soldiers and white-coated “healers” had been dismissed. They were the only two left in the room.

“So,” the human said in a wondering tone. “You responded to our nurse. That’s interesting.”

Jaddo ignored him, continuing to stare at the wall in the waking trance he had lapsed into over the last few hours as a refuge from the rage boiling inside him.

“We can have her come back, if you like,” the human continued.

When Jaddo neither moved nor spoke, the human sighed. “Perhaps we should start over again,” he said with exaggerated patience. “I know you can hear me. I know you can understand me. I know you could respond if you wanted to. Your EEG readings—a kind of brain scan—make it clear you’re conscious and alert. You’re not responding because you choose not to. I can understand that. But eating doesn’t require responding; refusing to eat hurts only you. If you don’t eat, I’ll have to force you to eat. There are those here who would enjoy watching that. If I were you, I wouldn’t give them the pleasure.”

Curious, Jaddo thought. That was the same argument the female healer had used. It was a valid argument, one that would have resonated with him under normal circumstances....but these were not normal circumstances.

“I’m not one of those who would like to see you suffer,” the human continued. “My name is Daniel Pierce, and I’m a doctor, someone who helps people’s minds and bodies get well when they’ve been sick. Those in my profession don’t hurt people, and I have no interest in hurting you or watching others do so. I would like to learn about you and your people, and in order to do that, you need to be alive and healthy.” He paused, leaning in closer. “I should point out that most others don’t share those opinions. I could protect you from a great deal of.......unpleasantness. You would do well to ally yourself with me. ”

Unlikely, Jaddo thought acidly, keeping his eyes averted. After a moment the human straightened up and sighed dramatically.

“Very well then. Think it over. And do keep in mind that you will eat, one way or the other. We can do this the easy way or the hard way; if you’re as intelligent as I think you are, you’ll choose the easy way.”

My ‘choice’ is irrelevant, Jaddo thought as the human left the room, and so is yours. Because he could not shift, and every Covari knew what happened to those who could not shift.

They died.




******************************************************





1 p.m.

Pod chamber





They look dead, Brivari thought, as the door slid shut behind them.

He and Emily Proctor stood in the pod chamber staring at the sacs, all of which had now split into four pods just as Valeris had predicted. They were propped against the far wall, taking advantage of the heat from the Granolith chamber, but just a glance was enough to tell Brivari that hadn’t been enough to save some of them. A little over half of the pods were glowing brightly; the rest glowed dimly, or not at all. A few had turned black.

Brivari glanced at the human woman standing next to him. He had been silent on the drive here, trying to recover, trying to consider what extraordinary circumstances could have occurred that would have induced Jaddo, of all people, to bring her here, of all places. “A lot has happened since you were captured,” she had said. Indeed. The planet must have all but stopped rotating if Jaddo had seen fit to bring her here.

When they had arrived at the rock formation, the woman had followed him, keeping her distance but following him nonetheless. He knew she was worried he wouldn’t be able to handle the climb on his own, and though he never would have admitted it, he had shared that worry. But he had made it, stopping a couple of times to rest, the woman always trailing a discreet distance behind. She had hung back when they had reached the door, showing no surprise whatsoever when he revealed the opening handprint. She had been here before, and knowing Jaddo the way he did, she must have earned the right to be here. So he had beckoned her inside, secretly glad of the company. He knew what he was going to find.

Brivari’s heart sank when he saw how many appeared compromised. So many, he thought sadly. We’ve lost so many. A quick count told him they still had four viable sets, down from six, plus one extra Rath hybrid. The rest would have to be disposed of, a distasteful task that Valeris had always handled. Now that task fell to him. He walked to one end of the row and began rearranging the pods, sorting them by viability. The woman headed for the other end where one set glowed brilliantly, a sight for sore eyes.

“They’ve all split into fours,” she commented as she walked past. “Only some of them had split the last time I was here.”

Brivari was silent. The last time he had been here, none of them had split.

“These still look good,” she continued, squatting down beside two sets at the opposite end of the row, one brilliantly glowing, the other somewhat less so. “In fact, this one looks better. It wasn’t glowing this brightly the night we rescued them.”

Brivari stopped. “The night you rescued them?”

“Jaddo made it to our house and collapsed the night you rescued these…the night you were caught,” she explained. “Whatever drug they’d given him made him sleep for a long time. He did manage to tell us where they were, though, so Dee and David and I went out and got them. We brought them back to our house until Jaddo was well enough to bring them here.”

Brivari resumed his sorting. Not only had Jaddo not made it back to the pod chamber, but he apparently had not been able to find a suitable hiding place for the hybrids. Things must have been bad indeed for him to voluntarily seek the help of humans. And he’d noticed something else—the door to the Granolith chamber had been hidden by a wall, smoothed over as though the door had never existed in the first place. The handprint lock on this chamber would accept only the genetic codes of the Warders and the Royal Four; why would Jaddo feel the need to further hide something already so well hidden?

“So,” Brivari said gravely, as he pulled one of the blackened pods in front of him. “It seems we are in your debt once again, Emily Proctor.” He ran a glowing hand down the length of the blackened pod, the human woman recoiling as black, viscous fluid spilled onto the floor carrying with it a tiny, curled figure no bigger than his human hand and obviously dead. A Vilandra hybrid.

The woman stooped to examine it, carefully avoiding the swirling pool of blackened gestational fluid snaking across the floor. “Poor thing,” she whispered.

“Spare your pity. It is her fault we are here at all.”

“Whatever she did, it looks like she paid for it,” the woman commented.

“We have all paid for it,” Brivari said bitterly. “Her family. Her entire world. And you,” he added pointedly.

He readied another pod for disposal, and as he did so, the Vilandra hybrid collapsed into a thin layer of dust that floated on top of the black lake of fluid for just moments before dissolving into it.

“Dust,” the woman said wonderingly. “Dee said it was dust, not ashes, but I didn’t understand.” As she spoke Brivari slit open another pod. More black fluid gushed out, along with another hybrid which collapsed like the first.

“Is this what happens to all of them when they die?” she asked, watching closely.

“They were engineered that way,” Brivari explained shortly, reaching for another almost dead pod, “so no one can study them.”

“But this happened to your people too when they died. Does that mean you were… ‘engineered’ that way?”

Brivari ignored her. There was no need for her to know the answer to that question. That was always the problem with spilling some of your secrets. Those you spilled to always wanted to know more, often more than you were willing to tell. Jaddo knew this, which made his willingness to share privileged information all the more inexplicable.

“There’s more to it than just rescuing the pods, isn’t there?” Brivari said, as he slit another one open. “Something else went wrong, something that would make Jaddo willing to bring you here.” He looked up at her as another dead hybrid spilled onto the floor. “What happened?”

“A lot,” she answered quietly. “An awful lot. I…..” She broke off suddenly, staring to her left.

“What’s wrong?”

The woman knelt in front of one of the pods she had rescued with a look of concern on her face. “What is that?” she asked.

Glancing in her direction, Brivari said, “What is what?”

The woman was still staring. “Its head was glowing. Is that supposed to happen?”

Brivari looked up sharply. Abandoning the dead pod he had been opening, he hurried over to where the woman crouched beside….Oh, God. It was a Zan hybrid.

“What did you see?” he demanded, kneeling beside her.

“Little glittery specks of light,” the woman answered, unfazed by his abruptness. She was probably used to it by now.

“Are you sure you weren’t just looking at the gestational fluid glowing?”

“ ‘Gestational fluid’?” the woman repeated. “Is that the goo they’re floating in?” She shook her head. “That’s not what I saw. This was something on the baby itself.”

Where on the fetus?”

“On its head,” she said pointing to the hybrid’s tiny head. “There were little dots that flashed on and off. They’re gone now.”

His breath catching in his throat, Brivari caught the fetus floating in the pod between two hands and studied it. There was nothing there now. Nothing at all.

“Are you sure you saw this?” Brivari asked in a husky voice.

The woman nodded. “I’m sure. Is....something wrong?”

“No,” Brivari whispered. “If you truly saw what you think you saw, then everything is right.” As he spoke, the Zan hybrid squirmed unhappily in his grip.

“He doesn’t like you holding him like that,” the woman commented.

“He never did,” Brivari said, releasing the fetus which seemed to wrench itself imperiously from his grasp.

Brivari returned to work on the dead pod with a heavy heart. He had let himself hope….he shouldn’t do that. It was just that he so badly wanted a sign that things would work out right, that all this anguish wasn’t for nothing.

“You know,” the woman said slowly behind him, “if you really mean to bring them back and restore what was lost…you’re going to have to forgive them first.”

Brivari glanced at her briefly before resuming his task.

“I can’t.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I'll post Chapter 11 next Sunday. :)
BRIVARI: "In our language, the root of the word 'Covari' means 'hidden'. I'm always there, Your Highness, even if you don't see me."
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Kathy W
Obsessed Roswellian
Posts: 690
Joined: Thu Oct 31, 2002 5:06 am

Chapter 11

Post by Kathy W »

Hello and Merry Christmas to everyone reading! :)






CHAPTER ELEVEN


July 18, 1947, 1 p.m.

Chaves County Sheriff’s Station





“Come in,” George Wilcox called, as a knock sounded on his door.

George eyed the man who entered warily. He wasn’t looking forward to this. He’d had the report on his desk for two days now, and the conclusion he had reached was disturbing. “Deputy Valenti, have a seat,” George said, indicating the chair in front of his desk.

Valenti obediently sat down, his expression neutral.

“I understand you’ve been a big help around here,” George began, using the age-old method of beginning with the positive. “I really appreciate that. It’s a big difference from your attitude the last time I saw you.”

“May I say something, sir, before we go any further?” Valenti asked suddenly.

“Go ahead.”

“I just wanted to apologize for my former behavior, sir,” Valenti said, with what sounded like total sincerity. “I was absolutely out of line to come in here and accuse you of covering up….anything. I was just caught up in the madness that was going around, and I got carried away. I was overreacting—I see that now. It won’t happen again.”

That’s not the only thing that hadn’t better happen again, George thought darkly. He’d had a long conversation with David Proctor about Valenti’s antics. George had wanted to nail Valenti to the wall, but David had begged him not to. “If you go after him, you’ll have to say why,” David had argued. “Don’t call attention to us. Even if people think Valenti’s some crackpot, word could get back to the wrong people.”

“If he keeps this up, word could still get back to the wrong people,” George had protested. “You’re not safe either way.”

“I’m safer if we don’t make a big deal out of it,” David had insisted. “And besides, I have a hard time faulting the guy for pursuing the truth. He’s right.”

“I know he’s right,” George had said soberly. “That’s precisely what makes him so dangerous.”

Now George studied Valenti, sitting there in front of him looking so eagerly contrite. Had he really given up, or had he just figured out that it didn’t pay to voice his suspicions?

“Apology accepted,” George said pleasantly. “I’m glad to see you’ve calmed down. At least I think you’ve calmed down,” he added, tossing a folder across his desk. “After reading this, I’m not so sure.”

Valenti glanced at the folder. “What’s that?”

“ ‘That’ is your report of the prowler incident from the night of the thirteenth,” George said. “And this...”—he indicated a stapled sheaf of papers inside the folder—“...is the testimony of one Reverend Robert O’Neill, pastor of St. Mary’s church.” George folded his arms across his chest, studying Valenti closely. “I have a few questions.”

“Of course, sir,” Valenti replied smoothly, his hands tightening on the arms of his chair.

“According to this, it all started with a report from the Amos family about an alien under their shed.”

“It was the kid who thought there was an alien under the shed,” Valenti clarified. “Turned out the mother—she’s the one who made the report—never saw what it was.”

“Uh huh. So you didn’t find anything at the Amos’s house, but subsequent calls from other addresses sent you tracking this ‘prowler’. Is that right?”

Valenti nodded, his face impassive.

“And then you tracked the prowler to Corona.” Another nod. “And you thought he went into St. Mary’s.” Another nod. “So of course you pulled your gun on the pastor.”

“An error, sir,” Valenti said quickly—a little too quickly. “I thought the pastor was the prowler.”

“I see,” George said. “And when the pastor opened the front door of the church—a dead giveaway right there, Deputy, if I do say so myself, because prowlers aren’t given to opening the front doors of anything—you proceeded to demand that this man wearing a Roman collar identify himself. At gunpoint.”

Valenti swallowed “I…I’m not familiar with Corona residents. I’ve never met Father O’Neill.”

“Of course,” George said evenly. “So after he…. ‘introduced’ himself, you then demanded to know who started the Protestant reformation.”

Silence.

“And accused him of not being who he said he was.”

More silence.

“And announced that your ‘prowler’ may have disguised himself, though you say in the report you never actually saw him, and therefore couldn’t know a disguise from his true appearance.”

“I thought he went into the church,” Valenti said finally.

“That explains why you went to the church in the first place. What it doesn’t explain is why you continued to hold your weapon on a Catholic priest and insist he might not be who he said he was.”

“I guess I got a little carried away,” Valenti said, his fingers beginning to drum on the armrest of the chair.

“ A ‘little’ carried away?” George queried, eyebrows raised.

“Okay, more than a little carried away,” Valenti allowed. “Look, it was my first night here. I didn’t want to drop the ball. I wanted to do a good job.”

“Okay....so you got carried away and overreacted. Where have I heard that before?”

‘This was different,” Valenti insisted defensively. “We had actual reports I was responding to. That’s my job, isn’t it? To protect the people?”

“Let me ask you something, Deputy,” George said, leaning forward on his desk. “Did this ‘prowler’ of yours hurt anyone?”

Valenti hesitated. “No, sir.”

“Threaten anyone?”

“No, sir.”

“Damage any property?”

No, sir.” Irritation was creeping into Valenti’s voice.

“Then I suggest you proceed a bit less aggressively in the future,” George said pointedly. “The people in this county are riled enough as it is. They don’t need you out there waving guns at them for no good reason.”

“Just because it wasn’t violent to start with doesn’t mean it won’t turn violent,” Valenti said flatly.

“ ‘It’?”

“ ‘He’. I meant ‘he’,” Valenti corrected.

He knows, George thought. Valenti had known exactly what he was chasing. And somehow he’d figured out the aliens could change their shapes; that was the only plausible explanation for him questioning the priest’s identity. Ordinarily George would be impressed with such investigative skills; at the moment, however, they were a pain in the ass.

“Thinking ahead is a fine skill, Deputy. But that doesn’t give you the right to terrorize a priest because you think someone who knocked over a few garbage cans might be hiding in his church.”

A flicker of annoyance flashed in Valenti’s eyes, dying as quickly as it had flared. “I’ll apologize to Father O’Neill,” he said, once again sounding absolutely sincere. “It won’t happen again.”

“That makes the second time you’ve assured me of that in the past ten minutes,” George noted. “I hope I can believe both assurances.”

The two men stared at each other a moment before George pushed the report across the desk. “I’m sure Father O’Neill would appreciate an apology. You can file this away. Dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir.” Valenti took the report and stood up.

“I take it you didn’t catch your potentially violent prowler?” George asked as Valenti headed for the door.

“No, sir. The trail ended at St. Mary’s. But don’t you worry,” Valenti added, pausing in the open doorway, his tone every bit as sincere as it had been a moment ago. “Whoever he is, he’ll try it again. And when he does, I’ll be here. I’m a patient man. I’ll get him. You can count on that.” Smiling pleasantly, he walked out, closing the door behind him.

George sank back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. Shit. As if it wasn’t bad enough to have an alien lose in his county, now he had an alien hunter to go with it.

Just what he needed. A matched set.



******************************************************



17:00 hours

Eagle Rock Military Base






Lieutenant Spade knocked on Major Cavitt’s door, glancing down at the folder in his hand. He’d taken his sweet time gathering the information it contained, giving himself plenty of leeway to doctor the results if necessary. In the end, it hadn’t been. The evidence was in there, but it was so mixed up with other garbage that it was difficult to find.

“Come in,” came the answer to his knock. Spade entered and saluted. “Report,” Cavitt ordered.

“I have the reports from the sheriffs’ departments, sir,” Spade answered.

“It’s about time. The prisoner escaped five days ago. What the hell took so long?”

“Well, sir, everybody and their mother claims to have seen an alien,” Spade replied. “Sifting through all this while maintaining a low profile took some time.” He paused as Cavitt gave him a flinty look. “We certainly didn’t want to alert the media again after the incident with William Brazel, sir.”

Cavitt scowled as he took the folder Spade offered him and leafed through it; the subject of William Brazel was still a sore one. Spade knew the Army couldn’t afford to set off any more alarms, especially after the riot induced by the Army’s treatment of Brazel. Public reaction to the men Cavitt had assigned to make certain Brazel kept his mouth shut, along with articles in the newspaper and mentions on the radio, had put the Army in a dicey position.

“There must be hundreds of calls in here,” Cavitt said in disbelief as he shuffled through the papers.

“Yes, sir. This is what the Roswell and Chaves County Sheriffs have to put up with right now.”

“Did you follow up on them?”

“Yes, sir. Every one.”

“And?”

“Most everyone claims to have seen an alien with a big head and slanted black eyes. Most of those were probably attention seekers or just plain scared.”

“But some might be true,” Cavitt objected.

“Unfortunately, there’s no way to tell the difference, sir.”

Cavitt dropped the folder on his desk with a sigh. “What about the night it escaped? That would be the most likely time for anyone to have seen it.”

“There were several reports of prowlers that night in Chaves County, sir,” Spade replied, “and one report of an alien hiding under a shed. Turned out it was the five year-old in the family who thought it was an alien. Adults didn’t see a thing.”

“What about the other reports?”

“No one saw anything specific. Deputies investigated, but didn’t find anything.”

Spade held his breath while Cavitt examined the entries for the night of the thirteenth, running his index finger slowly down the list. Don’t see it, he prayed silently, hands clasped behind his back, fingers tapping in silent impatience. Nothing to see there. Just move on by.

No such luck. “What’s this? Someone reported a ‘deformed child’ in their back yard rooting through garbage bins only hours after the escape.”

Shit. “Yes, sir. That call is representative of calls coming in from all over the county ever since the discovery. It was investigated, and nothing was found.”

“But this call was one of a series of calls that night, all reporting prowlers or disturbances of some sort,” Cavitt pointed out. “You can’t just look at individual calls, Lieutenant. You have to look for patterns, look at the bigger picture.”

“Yes, sir.”

Spade fidgeted as Cavitt pulled out a map of the area and began marking the addresses of the various prowler calls, numbering them in the order in which the calls came in. “They stop here,” he murmured, hunched over the map, his finger moving from point to point along the same trajectory as Spade’s had yesterday when he’d been researching the “bigger picture”. “And the nearest town is Corona.” His finger tapped on the map. “William Brazel lives in Corona.”

He’s not the only one, Spade thought silently. He hadn’t investigated for fear of someone questioning his curiosity, but he was willing to bet someone else lived in or around Corona: A family with a father who was a former Army Captain, a mother bold as brass, and a daughter with more guts than half the soldiers on this base. “You think he has something to do with this?” Spade asked out loud.

“It survived, Lieutenant,” Cavitt said with grim certainty. “Others think it died and turned to dust behind some rock, but I have a hunch it didn’t. And if my hunch is correct, it not only survived, but got some poor sap to help it, someone who has no idea what they’re helping. We’d best keep an eye out for dead bodies.”

Takes one to know one, Spade thought sourly, thinking of the fake handprints on West’s and Belmont’s bodies.

“At the moment, Brazel is the likeliest suspect,” Cavitt continued. “Choose men from the main base and put a tail on him.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Spade said carefully, “is that wise? We can’t afford any more bad press.”

“Don’t restrict his movements,” Cavitt directed. “Put the men in civilian clothes, and just watch him. From a distance. Soldiers have always frequented the towns around the base; as long as they’re discreet, they shouldn’t arouse suspicion.”

“Yes, sir. Will that be all, sir?”

“No.” Cavitt leaned back in his chair, pushing the map aside. “We need to beef up security. From now on I want two guards on both sides of all doors, with the exception of the exterior doors. Guards posted outside the compound would arouse too much curiosity. I want everyone to pass through two sets of completely different guards on their way upstairs or downstairs. Also, the list of security questions must be expanded; tell everyone to be sure of their knowledge of their extended families as well as their immediate families.”

“Yes, sir,” Spade answered. “You think it will come back here?”

“I’m sure of it,” Cavitt said darkly. “We hold one of its own, and if history is any teacher, it will return to free it. And when it does return it will be able to look like anyone, so our job is to make its job as difficult as possible.”

“So we can recapture it,” Spade said.

“Or kill it,” Cavitt answered shortly. “Don’t look at me that way, Lieutenant,” he added when he saw the expression on Spade’s face. “Come hell or high water, I’m not letting the other one escape. I’ll kill it myself if I have to. A dead alien in the hand is better than a live alien on the loose.”

“Yes, sir,” Spade said tightly.

“One more thing,” Cavitt said. “From now on, all personnel save for certain exceptions are restricted to the compound.”

Spade’s eyes widened. “You’re putting us on lockdown?”

“I said ‘restricted’,” Cavitt clarified. “We’ll still be receiving select visitors who want to see what we’ve caught.”

Thank God, Spade thought, breathing a mental sigh of relief. Lockdowns were murder. During a lockdown, no one could leave or enter the designated area, which usually resulted in everyone climbing the walls in short order.

“How long will the men be restricted to the base, sir?”

“I didn’t say they were restricted to the base,” Cavitt answered. “I said they were restricted to the compound.”

Spade felt his throat go dry. “The.....compound, sir?”

Cavitt sighed impatiently. “Is there something wrong with your hearing today, Lieutenant? Yes, the compound. As in this building, and the two floors it contains. No one assigned to this facility is to leave without prior authorization.”

“But.....” Spade paused, thinking of the compound’s one meager recreation room versus all the amenities available on the rest of the base.

“But what?” Cavitt demanded.

Spade hesitated for just a moment before taking the plunge. “Permission to speak freely, sir.”

Cavitt waited so long to nod that by the time he finally did, Spade was convinced such permission would not be forthcoming and had resolved to speak anyway. He may be new to the officer bit, but he knew very well that his men and their wellbeing were his responsibility. This type of restriction was going to make a difficult assignment ten times more difficult.

“I understand why you want restrictions, sir,” Spade began, hoping to mollify Cavitt by agreeing with him at least in part. “But can’t we just restrict them to the base? This level of restriction is essentially a lockdown, and.....”

“......and they can look like anyone, Lieutenant,” Cavitt broke in, his eyes hard. “Anyone. You know that as well as I, perhaps better. I shouldn’t need to explain to you how important it is that this facility not be compromised, or how easily it could be now that one of those things is free. I wish to remove as many such opportunities as possible.”

“But if visitors are still coming in......”

“They will be carefully screened,” Cavitt said dismissively. “Besides, they don’t make good targets for infiltration. They’re not as available as the personnel assigned here, and their presence at an unexpected time would draw instant notice.”

A knock sounded at the door. “Come in, Harriet,” Cavitt called. The door opened a crack, and Harriet’s head poked through. “Just a reminder, sir, Colonel Blanchard is waiting for you in the second floor conference room at the base.”

“Thank you, Harriet,” Cavitt said, as she disappeared. “Dismissed,” he added to Spade, who couldn’t believe his ears.

“But sir....I don’t understand. I thought you just said everyone assigned here was restricted to the compound.”

“Good Lord, Lieutenant,” Cavitt said irritably, rising from his chair and plopping his briefcase on the desk. “That doesn’t include me.”

Spade felt his temperature rising. “Why doesn’t it include you, sir?” he demanded, as Cavitt’s eyebrows rose. “You could be compromised just as easily as any of the rest of us.”

“I disagree,” Cavitt said, stuffing papers in his briefcase. “I am much too high profile to be valuable to an alien invader. They are far more likely to choose a less conspicuous target. Besides,” he continued, apparently unaware that Spade was reaching a boiling point, “it would be impractical to keep one hundred percent of assigned personnel in the compound. Major Pierce and I meet with dozens of dignitaries on a regular basis, not all of whom have clearance to actually enter this facility. You will need to leave to muster a surveillance detail for William Brazel. Exceptions will need to be made. The point is to reduce the number of potential targets to as close to zero as possible. That, plus our other security measures, will lower the risk of infiltration enormously.”

He’s right, Spade thought reluctantly. Much as it killed him to admit it, Cavitt was right. The fewer people they had coming in and out, the harder it would be for an alien to get in there. Harder—but not impossible. In the meantime, Cavitt would come and go as he pleased while everyone else was locked up like rats in a cage. The resulting impact on morale didn’t seem to be on Cavitt’s mind.

“Sir, since I know they’ll be asking, may I give the men some idea of how long they’ll be restricted to this tiny area with practically nothing to do while you come and go as you please?”

Cavitt’s eyes flicked up as he slammed his briefcase closed, Spade’s sarcasm hanging in the air like fog. Picking up his briefcase, he walked around the desk until he stood face to face with Spade.

“You may tell your men, Lieutenant, that they will be restricted to this compound until such a time as the escaped alien is either found or killed. Until then, they will do their duty, and they will do it cheerfully, as befits soldiers in the United States Army.”

“With all due respect, sir, the other alien may never be found!” Spade protested. “If it died out there somewhere, we may never know if.......”

“We will cross that bridge if and when we come to it,” Cavitt interrupted. “Until then, my orders stand.....and just in case anyone should get any bright ideas, General Ramey has already cleared them. Dismissed.”

“But....”

“I said dismissed, Lieutenant,” Cavitt said coldly. “I seem to be repeating myself a great deal today. Perhaps you really should have your hearing checked.”

Cavitt swept past Spade, leaving the door open as he left. Spade saw Harriet shoot him a sympathetic glance, and she made no move to shoo him out as he sank down on the edge of the desk, letting out a long, slow breath.

How does this keep happening? Spade thought wearily. Every time he tried to make things better, he wound up making them worse. He’d tried to keep the second alien from getting captured, and failed. He’d managed to free the first one, but that very freedom now meant that everyone here was as much a prisoner as the alien they still held.

No matter the species, it seemed that Stephen Spade was virtually everyone’s bad luck charm.




******************************************************




2330 hours




Private Walker leaned back in his chair and looked at the clock on the observation room wall for the fifth time in the past fifteen minutes. Only 2330, 11:30 p.m. civilian time. “Normal people” time, they liked to call it. He still had a half hour to go. A half hour of babysitting that thing down in the room below, a half hour of watching it lie there while a parade of concerned people marched in and out, trying to get it to eat, to talk, to do something. General Ramey was due in two days, and everyone wanted it tap dancing by then.

The door opened behind him, and Walker swiveled in his chair to find his replacement, Private Lomonaco, arriving early. “What are you doing here?” Walker asked. “You’re not due till 2400.”

“I woke up early. Thought you might be bored. Are you?” he added, sitting down next to Walker.

Walker snorted. “Hell, yes! But this duty is better than guarding the doors,” he added, indicating the room below. “This way I get to watch everyone making jackasses out of themselves.”

Lomonaco leaned toward the window and gazed down at the motionless figure strapped to the bed below. “Is it awake?”

“Yeah, it’s awake,” Walker said. “Just wants us to think it isn’t.”

“Has it said anything?”

Walker shook his head. “Nope. Not a word. Won’t eat, either. Doesn’t even move.” He stuck a toothpick in his mouth which bobbed up and down when he talked. “Well, that ain’t true. It did move once today, when that pretty nurse went in and tried to talk it into eating. Whipped its head around mighty fast to get a look at that cake,” he said, grinning. “Guess it’s got some taste. Hey—know what I was thinking?”

Lomonaco was still staring at the alien. “Fortunately, no.”

Walker laughed and punched Lomonaco’s arm. “I was thinking…what if they came here to breed with us?”

“Breed with you?”

“Well, not me,” Walker qualified. “I mean our women. Maybe that’s why it moved for the first time when the nurse went in. Maybe it knows a good thing when it sees it.” Walker wiggled his eyebrows up and down suggestively.

“If it’s alien, how could it possibly breed with our women?”

Walker leaned in toward Lomonaco and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Word is it has the right parts. A pecker and both balls. That’s what I heard.”

Lomonaco considered this for a moment, then leaned his own head toward Walker. “Do you know what I think?”

“No. What?” Walker said eagerly.

“I think we shouldn’t jump to conclusions about our women,” Lomonaco said quietly. “Maybe they don’t have different genders on their planet. So if they came here to breed with us, maybe they’d try to breed with anyone….even you.”

Walker’s eyes grew round. “Man!” he breathed. “Do you really think it would try to….” He stopped, horrified. “Oh, man! That’s just gross!”

“I agree,” Lomonaco said seriously. “The thought of anyone wanting to reproduce with you defies comprehension.”

Walker’s mouth hung open for just a moment, the toothpick dangling precariously, before he burst out laughing. “You had me going there!” he chortled. “When’d you get to be so funny?”

“You inspire me,” Lomonaco deadpanned.

“Well, thank you. Thank you very much,” Walker grinned. “Hey—I had another thought, about why that thing isn’t talking. Wanna hear it?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Walker grinned. “Nope. I was thinking—what if it’s not talking because it can’t? Maybe it’s too stupid to know how to talk. Hell, maybe it’s too stupid to know how to feed itself! Maybe it’s like…oh, I don’t know, like a pet, or a zoo animal. Yeah!” Walker continued, warming to his subject. “Maybe it’s like a dog or something! And here we are, begging it to eat, and talk, and assuming its smarter than we are, and it ain’t. What’dya think? Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

Lomonaco looked back toward the window. “I think it’s amazing that you think at all.”

Walker burst out laughing again. “Man, you’re killing me tonight!”.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“ ‘Don’t tempt me’,” Walker mimicked, still laughing. “God, I never knew you were so funny!”

“You know very little about me, I suspect,” Lomonaco observed. “Now—since I’m here, why don’t you take advantage of the chance to leave early.”

“Right,” Walker said, rising from his chair still grinning. “I appreciate it, man. It’s dead boring in here, what with that thing laying there like a slug.”

“Perhaps it doesn’t realize its purpose in life is to amuse you.”

Lomonaco successfully ducked yet another punch on the arm as Walker laughed again. “Man, you are killing me!” He picked up his weapon, still chuckling. “Be seeing you.”

“Remember,” Lomonaco warned. “I don’t want to get in trouble for this, so I’m not officially here now. If they ask me later, I’ll deny it.”

“No problemo,” Walker said. He made a zipping motion across his lips. “I’ll head straight for my quarters, and I won’t tell a soul. My lips are sealed.”

“I doubt I’m that lucky.”

Walker doubled over again, clapping Lomonaco on the back so hard that the wheeled chair in which he was seated lurched a few inches to one side.

“Well, I’m off,” Walker said, as Lomonaco righted his chair. “Have fun babysitting. And remember,” he added in a stern voice. “No funny stuff between you two. I don’t care what it turns into.”

Laughing at his own joke, Walker headed out the door. Lomonaco watched him leave, watched the door swing shut behind him. “Idiot,” he breathed. Rising from his seat, he looked down on the motionless figure in the room below.

<Jaddo. Wake up.>

Below, Jaddo stirred, his eyes sweeping the room for the source of the telepathic voice, ultimately coming to rest on the observation room window. His face twisted.

<What are you doing here?>



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I'll post Chapter 12 next Sunday. :)
BRIVARI: "In our language, the root of the word 'Covari' means 'hidden'. I'm always there, Your Highness, even if you don't see me."
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Kathy W
Obsessed Roswellian
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Chapter 12

Post by Kathy W »

Merry Christmas, everyone! :)


Misha: Jaddo answers the question about why he's not eating in this next chapter. As to why he thinks he's dying, we learn a great deal more about the Covari in Book 3--we've already seen how they die and turn to dust like the hybrids, but we also learn how they're born, how they're treated, how they came to be in the first place, and how and why certain myths about them arose (like the business about not shifting meaning death.) The fallout from what happens in Book 3 plays a major part in Langley not wanting to return years later.





CHAPTER TWELVE



July 18, 1947, 2340 hours

Eagle Rock Military Base





Jaddo glared at the figure visible in the window of the observation room. The infrared signature surrounding it gave away the fact that it was Covari, not human, and the voice gave away its identity.

<Are you pleased with this outcome, Brivari?> Jaddo said, his voice laced with bitterness. <You considered me a traitor, so perhaps you find this fitting.>

<What are you talking about?> Brivari snapped. <You sound every bit as idiotic as that human who just left.>

<Why didn’t you tell me about the others?> Jaddo demanded.

<Because I thought you might be working with them.>

<And what exactly gave you that bright idea?>

<The signal from the transponder you planted on our ship was what gave away our position, Jaddo. I had every reason to suspect you.>

<I had no idea they were even here!> Jaddo shouted, struggling against the straps that held him. <When did you know they were here?>

<We do not have time for this,> Brivari said impatiently. <In a few minutes, the human who owns this form will arrive, and….>

<Make time!> Jaddo roared. <It’s because of them I am here in the first place! I may not have succeeded in rescuing you that night, but I would not have been caught were it not for the rogues! When did you know they were here?>

Brivari gave an irritated sigh. <I suspected ever since Urza accused you of following him to that human festival when we both knew none of us had. Then the child told me two of our people had been to her house, posing as humans and looking for the ship fragments.>

<And by what stroke of genius did you not see fit to involve the rest of us at that point? If I had known, I wouldn’t be here now!>

<You wouldn’t be here now if you hadn’t planted the transponder in the first place,> Brivari pointed out. <You also wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t stupidly activated a communicator that led them right to you.>

<I didn’t know!> Jaddo erupted. <If you had told me, I would never have….>

<I did tell you!> Brivari retorted. <I ordered communication silence! Did it not occur to you that I might have had a valid reason for doing so?>

<I had no idea if you had a genuine reason or if you were merely being paranoid.>

<And now do you think I had a good reason?>

Jaddo was silent, seething. Brivari waited a moment before asking the question Jaddo knew was coming.

<Who were you trying to contact?>

<Home. Other Covari. Anyone. We needed help, Brivari! You were captured, possibly dead, the others were dead, I was going in after you—it was all falling apart. And don’t go on about the risk of contacting someone loyal to Khivar. Considering all that had gone wrong, it was a risk we had to take…a risk I had to take. I had no idea my transmission stood any chance of being intercepted, and you have no one to blame for that but yourself.>

<Look,> Brivari said impatiently, <we can sit here and debate the merits of our respective actions, a useless activity in my opinion, or we can work on getting you out of here. How many other Covari are we dealing with?>

Jaddo looked away, lapsing into sullen silence. He’d made mistakes, but he certainly wasn’t the only one. And of course Brivari didn’t want to discuss his own shortcomings. Much as he hated to admit it, however, Brivari was right. There would be plenty of time for recrimination after he was free.

<You tell me how many there are,> Jaddo muttered. <You’re the one who knows so much.>

<Five supposedly died on that expedition, but I don’t know how many actually died, how many defected, or how many are left. Now, how many Covari did you encounter?>

<There are two that I know of,> Jaddo replied, glaring at him. <One of them approached me at the child’s house.>

<Was that Malik?>

<Yes,> Jaddo sighed. <He approached me here later that day and advised me against trying to rescue you. Would that I had listened.>

<And the other?>

<He called himself ‘Amar’.>



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Brivari muttered a mental expletive, his human hands tightening their grip on the windowsill. The rogues would have used every resource they had. If Jaddo had seen only two, that meant only two remained. To have Amar be one of those two survivors was yet another bitter blow to add to an ever growing list.

<Friend of yours?> Jaddo asked sarcastically.

<Hardly,> Brivari said darkly. <He suffers from a quick temper, poor judgment, and a persecution complex, a bad combination under any circumstances. The only reason we kept him on the science team was his technical skill.>

Jaddo snorted. <That would explain his ranting against Zan. And he was false—he took your form to deceive me. And his ‘technical skill’ has been put to use in ways you couldn’t imagine.>

<What do you mean?> Brivari asked sharply.

Jaddo fixed Brivari with a penetrating stare. <He has a device which blocks our new abilities, a device developed with Argilian resources. He and Malik are working for Khivar.>

Brivari was silent for a moment. <I am not surprised,> he said after a moment. <The Argilians knew of our plans for the project. It would make sense that they would seek to nullify it, or bend it to their own uses. And Covari would be useful to them in achieving those goals; we can function here, and they cannot.>

<Exactly what your little friend said.>

<He is not my ‘friend’, little or otherwise,> Brivari said shortly. <Where is this device?>

<Destroyed,> Jaddo said, <by one of the human soldiers. But not soon enough for me.>

<Stop feeling sorry for yourself,> Brivari said impatiently. <I’m going to get you out of here. Are you injured?>

<Worse. I’m powerless.>

<What do you mean, ‘powerless’? I thought you said the device was destroyed?>

<It was. Something else is causing this.>

Brivari felt his heart sinking. He had expected Jaddo to be compromised, but not this compromised. This made a difficult task ten times more difficult.

<The others could be nearby,> he said, trying to reason this out. <If they made one of these devices, they could make more.>

Jaddo shook his head. <This is different. It feels different. Before, I could summon energy—I just couldn’t release it. Now I can’t even summon it. And there’s more.>

More? What else could be wrong? <What?> Brivari asked, dreading the answer.

<I can’t shift.>

Brivari stared through the window, stunned. <Are you sure?>

<Quite sure,> Jaddo answered grimly. <How could I possibly be wrong about something like that?>

Brivari’s throat had gone dry. A Covari who couldn’t shift was helpless in the worst possible way. It happened sometimes to the old or the ill. It was one of their biggest fears.

<Perhaps you’re just tired,> Brivari said hopefully. <The human soldier said you were refusing to eat. Perhaps you just need to…>

<I can’t shift!> Jaddo shouted, his telepathic words exploding in Brivari's mind. <Do you hear me? I am trapped, trapped in this form, trapped in this place! Helpless! No better….>

<Stop it!> Brivari said firmly.

<….than those pathetic, puny humans who somehow managed to put me in this condition to begin with! Do you….>

<Stop it!> Brivari ordered.

<….have any idea what this means? Do you have any idea what it feels like to be strapped down and poked at like….>

<SILENCE!>

Jaddo fell silent, chest heaving, eyes blazing, a study in fury. Brivari waited a moment, his mind racing as to what this did mean. With Jaddo deprived of his abilities, it would be much more difficult to free him; his being deprived of shifting too made it next to impossible. And then there was the question of how this had happened in the first place, and how he was going to hold Jaddo together until it could be undone.

<I know this is difficult for you,> Brivari began, trying to keep his own panic out of his voice, <but what is happening to you now is little different from the way life was before Riall’s reign. You don’t remember that—I do. I survived it, and so will you. Perhaps now you can understand why I take the fall of our world so ‘personally’, as you put it. I know what will happen to us now that Khivar is in control.>

<This is different,> Jaddo argued. <You were not prevented from shifting. You were not trapped like this!>

<Do not presume,> Brivari hissed, <to lecture me about being trapped. In the past, the best most of us could hope for was to be mercenaries for hire, and the usual fate for many was medical experimentation. We were difficult to capture, but there were always other Covari willing to undertake that task in exchange for immunity from the experiments. And once captured, the only way to subdue us and still leave us conscious was to starve us. They could not prevent us from shifting, but they could make us pay for it.>

Jaddo looked away, still breathing hard, but silent.

<Now, you can lie there and feel sorry for yourself, or you can help me figure this out. Did Amar’s device prevent you from shifting?>

<No,> Jaddo answered sullenly.

<Then this is something that happened afterwards. Were you injured here? Did they perform surgery on you?>

<How should I know?> Jaddo replied irritably. <I only regained consciousness a short while ago. I have no idea what transpired while I was unconscious.>

<What about your hearing? Vision? Strength? Are you compromised in any other way?>

<No,> Jaddo said. <I could easily break these straps, but the last time I did so I was promptly sedated again. Although at this point, that might be preferable.>

<Drop the pity, and think!> Brivari ordered. <What have you learned about the chain of command here? Who should I follow? Is anyone sympathetic?>

Jaddo sighed. <The female healer is here, the one who helped Urza. She was in here earlier, trying to convince me to eat.>

<You need every bit of strength you can muster if you want to get out of here. Why would you refuse food?>

<Because it pains them,> Jaddo answered, a note of satisfaction creeping into his voice, <and because it pleases me to see them pained. And why shouldn’t I enjoy myself one last time? You know perfectly well what happens to us when we can no longer shift.>

<This is different,> Brivari insisted. <Covari who can’t shift usually emerge defective or don’t survive their first shift. Or they’re old, or ill. That’s not what’s happening here.>

<You don’t know what’s happening here,> Jaddo retorted.

<Which is precisely why you shouldn’t be giving up so easily!> Brivari shot back.

<Why would I wish to prolong this delightful existence one minute longer than necessary? We all know that not shifting means death!>

Brivari stepped so close to the window that his human nose was almost touching it, desperately wishing he could go down there and shake some sense into Jaddo. <What I know,> he said in a menacing tone, <is that your primary duty is to your Ward and your world. You have a duty, especially in the present circumstances, to keep yourself alive as long as possible, regardless of what you think might happen to you, regardless of your desire to spite your captors. Depriving us of food was one of the ways used to control us in the past, to weaken us, to subdue us. I will not have you voluntarily starve yourself, Jaddo. If I have to, I will shove food into you myself! And trust me, you do not want that to happen!>

Brivari stopped abruptly as the door to the observation room opened behind him.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Private Lomonaco climbed the stairs and stood staring at the soldier silhouetted in the window, facing away. “Walker?” Lomonaco said tentatively.

The soldier turned around. “It is you,” Lomonaco said with a sheepish grin. “For a minute there, you looked like someone else.

“Who?” Walker asked.

“I dunno. Just not like yourself. I guess I’m just creeped out, what with those things, n’all,” Lomonaco said. “You know they say they can look like any of us? Can you imagine?”

“So maybe I’m not really Walker,” Walker said. “Maybe I’m really a space alien who just looks like Walker.”

Lomonaco stared for a moment. Then Walker smiled, and Lomonaco collapsed in laughter. “You had me going there for a minute!” he chuckled. “You really did!”

“What gave it away?”

“Well, if you really were a space alien, you wouldn’t go around admitting it, now would you? Go on, git outa here,” Lomonaco said amiably. “My turn to babysit.”

Walker left, and Lomonaco settled into a chair, glancing out the window toward the room below as he did so. “Damned monster,” he muttered. “I hope they let it starve.”




******************************************************




July 19, 1947, 0015 hours

Eagle Rock Military Base





Yvonne White turned over in bed for what must be the fiftieth time in the past hour. Then flipped again, for the fifty-first time. Then gave up. When one reached a point where one was counting the number of times one tossed and turned, it was time to throw in the towel.

Climbing out of bed, Yvonne trudged toward her bathroom, her bare feet silent on the tile floor. She was still agitated from her debriefing with Major Cavitt and Dr. Pierce, even though that had taken place hours before. It had been a grueling fifty-five minutes, and she was still seething. Pierce had been intrigued by the alien’s response, but Cavitt had been furious that she’d revealed the other alien’s escape; apparently he’d been planning to use threats to torture the escaped alien as an incentive for the one they still had. Her admission had foiled that, and frankly, she was glad.

Flipping on the bathroom light, she bent over the sink, splashing water on her face. She was exhausted, but she couldn’t sleep. She really couldn’t afford to keep getting all worked up like this. Given the circumstances, she was bound to find plenty of things she violently disagreed with. If she allowed herself to become enraged every single time, she’d go crazy, from lack of sleep if nothing else.

Reaching for a towel, Yvonne dried her face and examined herself in the mirror over the sink. The yellow-tinged light bulbs made her skin look sallow. She hated artificial light, and she’d seen way too much of that lately. Most of those assigned here had their quarters on the first floor, the “public” floor, the outward face of the operation. Both Cavitt and Pierce had their offices on the first floor; the rec room, the mess hall, and the mail room were there too. Anything important was in the heavily guarded basement: The prisoner himself, of course, all medical facilities, and quarters for a few, namely the medical technicians, a few of the senior soldiers like Lieutenant Spade, and—unfortunately—herself. Lately she’d found herself looking for any excuse to go upstairs and stare longingly out the window at the sun and the sky. She was feeling hemmed in, irritable, and very sympathetic to the alien’s hunger strike. Maybe I should try that, she thought. I wonder what they’d do if I refused to eat?

Probably nothing. Just one less person who knew about the aliens to worry about. Yvonne rehung her towel and turned back toward her room. Maybe if she read for awhile, she’d get sleepy. Although she was tired of reading too, it being basically the only pastime she had in this dismal place. Her hand was on the light switch when she saw him.

A soldier was standing several feet away, barely outlined by the light from the bathroom. Even from this distance, she recognized him.

“Private Walker?” Yvonne said, feeling suddenly exposed standing there in her sleeveless nightgown, not to mention confused. She hadn’t heard the door open, much less heard anyone knock.

The soldier took a step forward. She could seem him more clearly now—it was Walker, all right, and that was not encouraging. Of all the soldiers stationed here, Walker would definitely not be at the top of any list she might make of whom she’d like to unexpectedly find in her quarters.

“What are you doing in my quarters?”

“I am not Private Walker.”

“Excuse me?”

“I only look like Private Walker.”

Yvonne hesitated, listening. The compound was silent. That meant the alien hadn’t escaped; all hell would have broken loose if he had. Probably just another of Walker’s attempts at humor; she’d already noticed in the short time she’d been here that what Walker regarded as funny was what most people referred to as rude.

“Private, I hope you have a very good reason for inviting yourself into my quarters at this time of night, and playing silly games hadn’t better be it,” Yvonne said sternly in her best Lieutenant’s voice. Given what it meant to be the only woman in a group of several dozen men, she had found that rank had its privileges. Only a handful outranked her.

“I apologize for the intrusion, but I need your help,” Walker said. “And I am not Private Walker.”

Yvonne stared, her eyes narrowing. The language was formal, the tone courteous....almost courtly. This person didn’t sound anything like the Walker she knew. But how could it be an alien? No alien in its right mind would willingly come to this place, much less announce itself. Perhaps the rest of the soldiers were beginning to crack, just like she felt she was? Today’s announcement that they were all restricted to the compound had not been taken well. Still, this was an odd game, to say the least.

“Okay then,” she said impatiently, playing along for the moment. “If you’re not Private Walker, then who are you?”

“Walker” didn’t answer, just stepped closer, the light from the bathroom illuminating him better. It was certainly Walker, and as he took yet another step toward her, Yvonne grew alarmed and took a step back. Life in the compound was hard on everyone, herself included, but that didn’t give him the right to enter her quarters without permission and scare her like this. He’d have to find some other way to amuse himself. She opened her mouth, preparing to launch into a full scale officer’s rant.

Then his eyes changed, blackness rolling down from the eyelids like oil, leaving them dark, pupil-less, and oh-so-familiar.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'll post Chapter 13 next Sunday. :)
BRIVARI: "In our language, the root of the word 'Covari' means 'hidden'. I'm always there, Your Highness, even if you don't see me."
User avatar
Kathy W
Obsessed Roswellian
Posts: 690
Joined: Thu Oct 31, 2002 5:06 am

Post by Kathy W »

Happy New Year, everyone! :mrgreen:




CHAPTER THIRTEEN


July 19, 1947, 0025 hours

Eagle Rock Military Base




Yvonne’s mouth went dry. She wrapped her arms around herself as “Private Walker’s” ink-black eyes bored into her, willing her to understand. She did. Only too well.

“Who are you?” she demanded, fear making her voice a bit louder than expected. Was this the one who escaped, or one of the other aliens Stephen had been talking about?

“The one whose escape you assisted,” the alien who looked like Private Walker said.

Opening her mouth to protest that she had no way of confirming that, Yvonne realized she did. Looking past the eyes, she noticed something she’d missed before: “Private Walker” looked like he’d been through hell. His face was drawn, his hands shaking. “You shouldn’t be here!” she whispered urgently. “You look like you’re going to fall over any minute!”

“Shifting requires energy,” the alien replied, “something I find in short supply at the moment. But my limitations are not the problem—I need to know what they’ve done to my companion.”

“How did you even get in here?” Yvonne exclaimed, perplexed. “There are guards everywhere, and all sorts of precautions. How did you manage it?”

“Getting in is not the problem,” the alien said. “What I need to know is how they’re preventing my companion from using his powers. Do you know?”

Yvonne stiffened as she heard footsteps pass outside. She put a finger to her lips, waiting until the footsteps passed. “I need to turn this light off,” she whispered, biting her lip and glancing at the brilliant light pouring from the bathroom, “and we need to keep our voices down. They’ll get suspicious if they hear me talking to someone.”

She snapped the light off. The room instantly became dark as pitch except for the thin strip of light coming in under the door. Yvonne stood there in the dark, mentally calculating which light was furthest from the door and least likely to draw notice. She began to move forward, choosing her route from memory, desperately hoping she wouldn’t knock anything over and attract attention.

A soft glow arose from nowhere, gently illuminating the room. As though reading her mind, the alien was holding his hand over the lamp near her bed, the one furthest from the door. Somehow the bulb wasn’t fully glowing; it was dimmed to only about a third of its usual brilliance. He had done something similar the night they had come for their injured friends. Yvonne felt a shiver run through her as she stared at the alien. For all that she disagreed with almost everything happening in the compound, the things these people could do were downright unsettling.

The alien lowered his hand; the light continued to glow dimly. “You are a prisoner here too, aren’t you?”

Yvonne nodded mutely as she slipped into her robe, wrapping it tightly around herself.

“Then it is in your best interests to help free my companion. With him gone, there is no one left to study. Rescuing him will be difficult,” the alien continued. “This would be child’s play were the other two still alive, but with me alone and my companion deprived of his abilities, things have become much more complicated. What have they done to him?”

Yvonne sat down on the bed, never taking her eyes off the alien. The light may go unnoticed, but voices were still a concern, and the bed was in the farthest corner of the room. “Rescuing him will be difficult anyway,” she said in a low voice. “There are guards everywhere, all with those tranquilizer guns. You can do things we can’t, but you’re badly outnumbered.”

“How did they stifle his powers?” the alien asked again, more urgently this time. “Have they subjected him to some kind of surgery?”

“No,” Yvonne said quickly. “Nothing like that.....not yet. It’s a serum, a drug, that suppresses certain areas of his brain.”

The alien’s eyebrows rose. “I wasn’t aware human science had advanced sufficiently to develop something like that.”

“It hasn’t. I mean they’re not really sure why it works,” Yvonne admitted. “They don’t even know why it works on humans. They got the idea from the autopsies we did on the two who died. They noticed your brain tissue resembled our own, so they gambled that drugs which affected our brains in a certain way might affect yours the same way. When you…escaped…., you were hooked up to something we call an electroencephalograph that records brain waves. Dr. Pierce was able to see what part of your brain you were using when you….did what you did. That’s how he figured it out.”

The alien sank wearily into a chair, his expression grim, his fingers tapping on the arms . Yvonne wrapped her robe more tightly around her. Fear was making her cold. Being in the presence of a powerful, angry, albeit exhausted creature could do that to you.

“How is this ‘serum’ administered?” the alien demanded.

“By injection.”

“How often?”

“Once a day.”

“Then all I need to do is destroy the supply,” he murmured. “Where is it kept?”

Yvonne shook her head. “It won’t be that easy. They know that serum is the only thing that allows us to hold him. They’ve taken unbelievably elaborate precautions to safeguard it.”

“Such as?”

“Well, for starters, it isn’t stored in just one place. It’s stored in several different places within the compound, and I suspect a few places outside. And missing just one dose won’t do it—based on the time it took to build up the levels in his bloodstream, your friend would probably have to miss about a full week’s worth of doses to have it completely wear off. That’s seven days,” she added, unsure as to whether these people knew what a “week” was. “But even if you destroyed all the different sources at the same time and made certain they couldn’t get any more for a week, that still wouldn’t be enough. The minute you touch it, they’ll know you’re here because each batch is tested before it’s administered to make certain it hasn’t been tampered with. And if they find out you’re here.....” She paused, letting the sentence dangle.

“They will likely kill my companion,” the alien finished for her, as Yvonne nodded sympathetically. She was so miserable here she’d given serious thought to disrupting the supply of serum, which is how she’d learned how impossible it was. “I….I might be able to get you a sample,” she said tentatively. “Is there someone among you who could work out an antidote, or something similar that would fool their testing?”

“There was,” the alien said quietly, “but no more. He was one of the ones who died.”

Yvonne closed her eyes, remembering the two aliens with whom she’d spent that long day and night, one riddled with gunshot wounds and the other who lived for only a few hours. “I’m sorry,” she said gently. “Perhaps we could ask Stephen for help.”

“Stephen?”

“Lieutenant Spade. He’s in charge of all the guards. We’ll need his help anyway, because any attempt to rescue your friend will have to include avoiding the tranquilizer darts in the soldiers’ guns. If either of you are hit with one of those, it’s all over.”

“Spade,” the alien snorted, his expression growing darker. “He betrayed us.”

“Only because Major Cavitt made him think you’d murdered two soldiers in their sleep,” Yvonne said quickly. “You told him otherwise, and he found the bodies—they had silver handprints on them that were made with paint. He’s really sorry about what he did.”

“That does me no good now.”

“Look,” Yvonne said, growing irritated in spite of her fear, “he tried to make up for it. He kept everyone away from those sacs with the babies inside. He tried to keep your friend from being caught, but the other alien intervened. And he’s the reason you’re free,” she added pointedly. “He ordered the men to hold their fire when you escaped. If they’d shot you with those darts, you’d still be captive too.”

The alien looked away, obviously unhappy about the prospect of Spade being his rescuer. Yvonne decided to change the subject.

“You probably don’t know it, but you have a more immediate problem. Your friend refuses to eat. He’s too weak to even consider rescuing now. If he doesn’t eat soon, they’ll force him to.”

“I have already spoken with him about that. Hopefully, he will see sense.”

“You spoke to him?” Yvonne asked, surprised. “How?”

“I used the same subterfuge we used the first time. I took the form of a soldier and reported early for duty.”

“You shouldn’t do that!” Yvonne admonished, alarmed. “They’ll figure it out! You shouldn’t even be here in the first place. You can’t help him if you’re captured again!”

“I also can’t help him if I do nothing,” the alien pointed out. “As I said before, gaining access to this place is not a problem. Gaining access to my companion is another matter entirely.” He rose from his chair, a hand on each temple as though he had a headache. “How many soldiers are here?”

“About a hundred, from what I can tell,” Yvonne replied. “They function solely as guards, and they live here. We all do. And since you escaped, we’re not allowed to leave. They don’t want you impersonating anyone on their way back in.”

“No one leaves?”

“Major Cavitt and Dr. Pierce come and go freely, but that won’t help. They have to answer questions that only they know the answers to in order to get back in. We all have to do that just to go upstairs and downstairs, and the questions change every day. They’ve taken a lot of precautions,” she added with a touch of irony in her voice, “to make certain you can’t do exactly what you’re doing right now.”

The alien smiled slightly, more of a grimace, really. “Who has access to my companion? Who sees him regularly?”

“Dr. Pierce,” Yvonne said, ticking down the list, “several technicians, and myself. That’s it.”

The alien sat down in the chair again, perched on the edge, eyeing her closely. The expression on his face made her cold all over again.

“I need something from you.”




******************************************************




0030 hours




Yawning, Dr. Pierce entered the lab and headed for the lone occupied table, its one light piercing the darkness. On the table was a microscope; the technician hunched over it jumped to his feet when Pierce approached.

“I’m sorry to bother you at this late hour, Doctor,” the tech began, “but I....

“The creature moved again?” Pierce broke in hopefully.

“No, sir. It hasn’t responded to anyone at all except Lieutenant White.”

“Then it’s eating?”

“No, sir,” the tech answered uncertainly. “There’s been no change.”

“Interesting,” Pierce murmured. “Maddening, but interesting. So, Brisson—what else could be so important that you had to summon me at this hour?”

“I....I’m sorry, sir,” Brisson answered. “I thought you’d like to see this right away. I was cleaning out the fridge, throwing out all the tissue samples that had turned to dust, and I found this,” he said, pointing to the microscope.

Pierce removed his glasses and peered through the eyepiece. “I’ve seen these before. What’s so special about this crop?”

“Look at the date,” Brisson said. “They’re a week old.”

Pierce slowly pulled his eyes away from the eyepiece and inspected the date on the slide. “So they are,” he murmured. “So they are. But how can that be? All of our samples have turned to dust within twenty-four hours at most.”

“I looked more closely after finding these,” Brisson went on enthusiastically, warming to his subject. “Every single sample of this kind of cell is still intact. None of them have disintegrated. And look at this.” He produced another slide, sliding it under the microscope in place of the first. Pierce bent his head again to peer, letting out a long, low whistle.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Brisson asked, his eyes shining.

Pierce stood up and thought for a moment. “It make sense,” he said slowly. “It would be counterproductive to have this type of cell disintegrate upon leaving the body.”

“Exactly,” Brisson said. “And this means….”

“Yes,” Pierce interrupted. “I can see what this means, Corporal. Dismissed.”

Brisson’s mouth dropped open. “But…”

“I appreciate you bringing this to my attention. Dismissed.”

“But I could…..”

“I’ll let you know if I need anything else,” Pierce said, walking to the door and holding it open.

“Yes, sir,” Brisson said weakly, practically backing through the door, his eyes widening as Pierce closed and locked it after him.

As soon as the door was locked, Pierce lost no time combing the lab thoroughly for any sign of listening devices. This was his lab and he guarded it jealously; still, what was happening here was so groundbreaking, so sought after by others, that it wouldn’t surprise him in the least if he were to find something. So far he hadn’t, and tonight proved to be no exception. Good. Now more than ever, he needed secrecy.

Moving back to the microscope, Pierce stared for a long time before finally leaning back on his stool, a wide smile spreading across his face. This would be it—the crowning achievement of his career. He would rewrite the science books, the medical books, and the military manuals all in one fell swoop. The possibilities were breathtaking.

Providing he could hang onto it, of course. It was absolutely essential that this information not leave this laboratory. This particular branch of medicine was not his specialty, but no matter; he would simply have to consult—discreetly—with various experts in the field. Absolute secrecy was paramount—the moment any of those experts got so much as a whiff of where he was heading, they would converge on Roswell like a swarm of locusts. He must not lose control of this.

Grabbing a nearby notepad, Pierce began to list all the things he would need, all readily obtainable except for the one most important thing of all. He chewed on the end of his pencil, mentally sifting through the various possibilities before reaching the obvious conclusion.

Lieutenant White.

Of course! She was perfect. She was young, smart, a captive audience—all things that other choices might not be. Granted it was always better to have more than one specimen, but under the circumstances, he would just have to make do. And she would go down in the history books along with him—he would see to that. It would be the least he could do to express his appreciation.

Pierce carefully packed up the slides and returned them to the refrigerator, locking the door and pocketing the key. Corporal Brisson would no doubt squawk tomorrow when he found the key missing, but he couldn’t be allowed any further information about this matter until certain things had been explained to him. Besides, someone would be needed for reconnaissance and experiments, and Brisson would be a good choice. Providing he would play ball, of course. Most likely he would, especially if offered the chance to participate in the most provocative human endeavor to date.

First things first, however. He needed to package this proposal in such a way that General Ramey could understand it—and approve it. Plus there were other issues to consider. Keeping the alien alive was essential, as they would need fresh supplies of those cells periodically. And Lieutenant White…..Lieutenant White must be kept gainfully employed. Given a role, a reason to be here other than simply assisting doctors and restocking supplies. Something that sparked her interest......something that kept her happy.

A minute later, he had it. Yes, Pierce thought with satisfaction. That would do nicely on several fronts, satisfying desires she’d already expressed and silencing her critics. Her being unhappy or upset could throw the whole thing off, so it was now very important Lieutenant White be kept as content as possible under the circumstances.

Pierce headed for the door, his list of necessities in hand. He had a long night ahead of him, but the hardest part was finished. Now the most daunting task which lay ahead was deciding exactly where he’d display his Nobel prize.





******************************************************





7:15 a.m.

Proctor residence



David Proctor came downstairs to find Emily at the kitchen table, the newspaper spread out in front of her. “Any news?” he asked, rolling up his shirt sleeves. It was early on a sunny Saturday morning, and hot already.

“No headlines about escaped alien prisoners, if that’s what you mean,” Emily deadpanned. “But it does say someone’s invented a new kind of oven that cooks food in just a few minutes instead of hours. They call it a ‘microwave’. Whoever manages to get that into my kitchen deserves a medal.”

David smiled as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “Anything else?”

“They’ve created a blacklist for Hollywood actors who are suspected of being Communist sympathizers.”

David stopped pouring. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were,” Emily said darkly. “God bless America; land of the paranoid and home of the blacklisted. Pour another cup,” she added, nodding toward the coffee pot.

“You’re not finished yet,” David said, staring at her half drunk cup of coffee.

“Not for me. For him,” Emily said, with a pointed look toward the back porch. “I’m willing to bet he’s finished his first cup already.”

David turned to look toward the porch. “Brivari’s back?”

“He was here when I came downstairs. He’d already made coffee. That water was boiled with alien voodoo, by the way,” she added, as David cast a nervous glance at the cup in his hands. “It was nice having the coffee ready. I could get used to having an alien housekeeper.”

David shot her a look, and they both smiled. Both knew that Brivari was about as far from a “housekeeper” as one could get. “Good luck,” Emily called after him as David poured a second cup of coffee and headed for the back porch.

He found Brivari staring out the windows, empty cup in his hands. He looked tired, but certainly much better than he had just the previous day. Emily had told him about their trip to the cave where the sacs—or “pods”, as she said Brivari had called them—were hidden. The loss of several more of the infants was not good news, but at least the ones they had helped rescue were still alive.

David set the new coffee cup down beside Brivari’s empty one and took a seat opposite, studying him. He was in a completely different form than the one he had used prior to his capture, but he had managed to look every bit as nondescript.

“You are staring, David Proctor,” Brivari said, lifting the full coffee cup with a nod that David took as a “thank you”. “Is that not considered rude in your culture?”

“Usually,” David admitted. “I was just thinking that it isn’t difficult for me to believe it’s really you, even though you look totally unfamiliar. I guess I’m getting used to the idea of someone who can look different at will.”

“Then you have come further than many on my own planet,” Brivari observed.

“So,” David said, getting right down to business. “Is he alive?”

“Yes,” Brivari answered quietly.

“Tortured?”

“No. Not yet, anyway.”

“Injured?”

“In a manner of speaking. A human doctor has developed a drug that prevents Jaddo from using his powers,” Brivari explained when David looked at him questioningly. “All of his powers. Including shapeshifting. To put that in terms you could understand, imagine if you were suddenly deprived of the ability to use your arms and legs.”

David tapped his fingers against his coffee cup. “So you can’t count on any help from him in a rescue attempt,” he said. “And you’re all by yourself.”

“Exactly. To make matters worse, he’s refusing to eat. They’re threatening to force the issue.”

“There’s a switch,” David said.

“A 'switch'?”

“During the war, it was common practice to starve enemy soldiers. Not officially, of course,” David added, a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “That would have broken all sorts of national and international rules. They were given just barely enough to keep them alive, and promised more food if they talked. I wonder what would’ve happened if a prisoner had actually refused food. I never saw one do that. And Jaddo doesn’t seem like the type to go on a hunger strike.”

Brivari stood up and walked to the window, gazing out toward the morning sky. “My race is not accustomed to being captured. We are very difficult to find, as you may well imagine, and even more difficult to hold. We usually escape, and the rare times we do not, we are either starved in an attempt to gain our cooperation much as you just described, or killed. Capture is not something we are taught to endure.”

“How did you get out?” David asked.

“I feigned unconsciousness for hours. I would have continued longer, but one of the humans divined my deception; I had a choice of trying to escape then or being sedated again. I chose the former.”

“You traveled quite a ways,” David mused. “It’s several miles from the base to the church where I found you.”

“I stopped to rest first,” Brivari said, turning around and leaning against the windowsill. “A child found me, a boy, younger than your daughter. I considered myself fortunate; children have not yet learned everything their culture says they should fear. They act on instinct, and this child’s instinct correctly told him I would not harm him. But he told his mother, and she panicked and called for enforcers. One of them pursued me all the way to your ‘church’.”

David remembered the feelings of panic, of being pursued, hunted, while he was locked in the telepathic connection with Brivari. Those feelings had been paralyzing even when presented as memories; it was a wonder Brivari had been able to function at all. Should he tell him about that connection, about the things he’d seen? After a moment’s reflection, he decided now was not the time. Brivari had enough to worry about at the moment without learning a human had been inside his head. “It was smart to head for the church,” David said, sticking with a safer subject.

“I wagered I had a somewhat better chance at a place of worship than with a private citizen,” Brivari answered.

“Only somewhat?”

“Places of worship can be havens, or they can be bastions of hate. One is never sure which.” Brivari smiled when David looked surprised. “I scanned your history on the way here. Do the ‘Crusades’ sound familiar? The ‘Inquisition’? ‘Salem witch trials’?”

“Those were all a long time ago,” David objected. “Churches don’t act that way now.”

“Really? Even if confronted with evidence to the contrary of one of your holy books, which states that ‘God made man in His own image’?”

David fell into flustered silence. Brivari was right—an awful lot of supposedly pious people would probably have behaved decidedly impiously should they have discovered a live alien hiding in their church.

“I was fortunate that the holy man at your place of worship was of the more enlightened variety,” Brivari went on. “And further fortunate that you were willing to come for me.”

“You were even more fortunate that that,” David said. “It was the local Sheriff—‘enforcer’, to you—who phoned me and kept his mouth shut. And Father O’Neill also got rid of the one chasing you. It was Valenti, that deputy we had a problem with before. The one who found Dee’s shoe.”

“I believe I predicted he would be trouble.”

“Yes. Yes, you did,” David said, rising to his feet and looking Brivari directly in the eye. “And I believe I told you that Jaddo wasn’t working with those others. So I guess we were both right.”

Brivari didn’t answer, merely stared at him, his expression inscrutable. After a moment, David reached for his empty coffee cup. “Good luck with the hunger strike,” he said, heading for the door. “I have errands to run.”

“There is something else you told me,” Brivari called after him.

David stopped. “What was that?”

“You have something that belonged to me, something you promised to return. I am asking you to return it now.”




******************************************************





Emily Proctor had just reopened her newspaper after seeing David off to the grocery store when Brivari appeared in the doorway. “I understand you disposed of Urza’s remains,” he announced without preamble.

“Yes,” Emily answered, her coffee cup halfway to her lips.

“Where?”

“Right outside the cave where the pods are.”

“Why?”

“Because Jaddo asked me to.”

“You had no right.”

Emily set her cup down, staring at the pattern on the Formica tabletop. She didn’t disagree with him—she’d been uncomfortable from the moment Jaddo had asked her if she would be willing to take care of this particular bit of unfinished alien business. Uncomfortable.....and surprised. Surprised that something like that would matter so much to someone who seemed so hard-boiled.

“But I didn’t even know him,” she’d protested when Jaddo had first asked. “I never met him.”

“Irrelevant,” Jaddo had answered, in his typical blunt fashion. “Familiarity is not necessary to honor the dead.”

“No,” Emily had allowed, “but it certainly helps. Why don’t I have David take care of it? He actually met this person, and.....”

“I would prefer it be you.”

“Why?” Emily had asked, flustered. “Why me?”

“You child tells me there was a death in your family recently, and that you saw to the disposition of the remains.”

Remains.
A fitting word, that. What had “remained” of David’s brother James had probably qualified as a “body” in the coroner’s lexicon, but certainly not in hers. Just the memory of the sight inside that apartment churned her stomach almost an entire year later.

But that had nothing to do with the current situation. Perhaps it was the women on Jaddo’s planet who took care of things like this. Or perhaps he just wanted peace of mind before he headed off to attempt a difficult task which might very well fail. Whatever it was, it would be selfish of her to refuse.

“All right,” she’d said reluctantly. “What do you want me to do?”

“The dust must be released into the wind so that it flies for some distance,” he’d answered. “There is much more to the rite, but that is the most important part. Observing that will suffice.”


And that was why Emily, who wanted to do more than that which would merely “suffice”, suggested they attend Joan Wentworth’s funeral and bring what was left of Urza along. If he couldn’t have whatever rite he would have had on his home planet, at least she could substitute another....along with an enthusiastic attendant. Dee had suffered none of her mother’s misgivings about the Proctors being the sole mourners at Urza’s memorial. She clearly felt she had every right to be doing what they were doing, and David seemed to share that opinion. Perhaps Emily would have too if she had met Urza herself, but under the circumstances, she’d gratefully allowed Dee to lead the way, hanging back and feeling out of place throughout the entire process.

“Perhaps not,” Emily said slowly to Brivari. “Perhaps we didn’t have a right. But it was Jaddo who asked me to do it. Surely he had a right.”

“He did not,” Brivari said flatly. “Neither of you did.”

“You weren’t here to argue the point,” Emily reminded him.

Brivari’s eyes flashed. “It was not your place.”

“No,” Emily replied, her voice firm. “It was yours. And as I recall, you weren’t interested. Look,” she continued, her discomfort giving way to irritation, “I know you’ve been through a lot recently. But so have the rest of us, including Jaddo. You’d been captured, the sacs almost fell back into the hands of the Army, and we had an unexpected visit the following day from someone I gather isn’t exactly a friend of yours. Things were looking worse by the minute, and he wanted to make certain that, at least, would be taken care of. And I give him a lot of credit for bothering to see to that in the middle of everything else that was going on. He must have had a great deal of respect for this ‘Urza’.”

“He couldn’t stand Urza,” Brivari said sharply.

“Then Jaddo deserves even more credit. It’s easy to show respect for someone we like. It takes more effort to show respect for someone we don’t.”

“You are not one of us,” Brivari insisted. “I have no idea if you observed the rite properly.”

“We did the best we could,” Emily said impatiently. “And I find this an odd attitude from someone who was going to dump the dust on the ground, which I now know is the ultimate insult. It was your tantrum which left your friend in the hands of strangers. If you were so worried that everything be done correctly, why the hell didn’t you do it yourself when you had the chance?”




******************************************************




Because he didn’t want to, Dee thought, as she sat curled by the upstairs railing, listening to the confrontation below. She was glad Brivari was okay, glad that they hadn’t lost all the babies, glad that her parents were still willing to help him. But she didn’t much care whether he approved of what they’d done with Urza or not. They’d done the right thing by Urza. She was sure of it.

Dee headed back to her room, not bothering to wait for Brivari’s answer to her mother’s rebuke. Let them yell at each other. Grown-ups always loved to argue about things that were over and done with, a waste of time if anyone asked her. Right now she had something else on her mind: The alien book, carefully hidden under her mattress along with her ship piece and the drawings she’d made of the dream she’d spent with Urza.

Kneeling down beside her bed, Dee slipped her hand between the mattress and the box spring and pulled out the metal book. Brivari would no doubt come for it soon, and she was loathe to give it up. Even though she had painstakingly copied every single page, it still felt good to hold it, to feel its weight in her hands. Having the book made her feel closer to Urza and Valeris. She was willing to bet it was one of them who had made it in the first place.

Dee set the book on her lap and opened it, running her finger over the etched symbols she could not read, gazing at the two sets of faces, one younger, one older. In many ways the rubbings she’d made were better pictures, but she still found herself drawn to the original etchings. Vilandra, she thought, running a finger over the etching of the woman she thought was Urza’s princess. Such a beautiful name for someone who did such a bad thing. ”Sometime within your lifetime our Wards will emerge and return here to take back what was theirs,” Urza had said to her. “Tell Vilandra that I loved her, and I’m sorry I will not be there with her when she returns.” And I will, Dee silently promised herself. Somehow, someway, she would find them before they left and deliver Urza’s message.

Reluctantly, Dee closed the book, ready to return it to its hiding place under the mattress. She stopped short when her eyes fell on the cover.

The book’s cover, which had previously been empty, was glowing. Symbols were appearing, first one, then another, then several, forming a pattern of glowing light that took her breath away. Once before she had thought she’d seen symbols on the cover, but they had vanished as quickly as she’d see them. She watched the new symbols with trepidation, but these symbols weren’t vanishing. They remained, but only on the surface of the metal cover, not etched like those inside.

Dee hesitated for just a moment before scrambling for her desk and her pencils. Pulling out a sheet of paper, she hastily began to copy the symbols one by one. She worked fast, which was a good thing. By the time she’d reached the last symbol, the pictures on the cover had almost completely faded away.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'll post Chapter 14 next Sunday. :)
BRIVARI: "In our language, the root of the word 'Covari' means 'hidden'. I'm always there, Your Highness, even if you don't see me."
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Kathy W
Obsessed Roswellian
Posts: 690
Joined: Thu Oct 31, 2002 5:06 am

Post by Kathy W »

Hello and thank you to everyone reading! *wave*





CHAPTER FOURTEEN


July 19, 1947, 0900 hours

Eagle Rock Military Base




Stephen Spade gripped the barrel of his tranquilizer rifle, aimed at the alien strapped to the bed and still studiously ignoring everyone. About fifteen of his men were arrayed around the room, wide-eyed and jumpy. A couple of medical technicians hovered, gazing uneasily at the equipment arrayed nearby that would be used to force food down the alien’s throat. After dozens of appeals, threats, and even more appeals, either the alien ate something or they were going to make him eat something. Spade and his men were here to guard against the possibility that the medical personnel might not be able to subdue the alien by force, but they had strict orders not to fire unless ordered to do so—Cavitt didn’t want the prisoner unconscious for the General’s visit tomorrow if that could be avoided. His men shifted nervously, clearly unhappy about the prospect of watching what everyone knew was likely to happen any minute now.

“Where is Dr. Pierce?” Major Cavitt demanded, pacing back and forth in front of the alien’s bed.

“I believe he was talking to Lieutenant White,” one of the techs answered nervously. The techs didn’t have much contact with Cavitt, which was just as well because he scared the beJesus out of them.

“Has it eaten?”

“No, sir.”

“Has anyone told it what will happen if it doesn’t?”

“Well.....sure, sir,” the tech said uncertainly. “Several times. But...”

“I mean now, Private,” Cavitt clarified. “Has anyone explained what is about to happen if it doesn’t comply with our request that it eat?”

“N....no, sir,” the tech replied, with a fleeting glance at the alien that made it clear he’d rather step in front of a speeding bus then try to explain anything to it.

Cavitt sighed dramatically. “Then I suppose I should make one last appeal before we do what must be done.” Stepping around the bed, he positioned himself in front of the alien. “Do you know who I am?” Cavitt asked imperiously.

Silence. “I am your captor,” Cavitt continued, as though the alien had only one captor. “I have decided to put an end to this little ‘hunger strike’ of yours one way or another. Which way will be up to you. Either you eat....”—Cavitt indicated the tray of food on the bed table nearby—“...or we will make you eat. Do you understand me?”

“Very touching, Sheridan. You really should go into medicine. All of your patients would dread your arrival so much they’d either get well immediately or commit suicide.”

Several soldiers, Spade included, worked hard to stifle smiles as Dr. Pierce swept into the room followed by Yvonne White. Watching Pierce and Cavitt go at it was great fun, but resisting the urge to burst out laughing was becoming harder all the time, especially in a room so fraught with tension as this one.

“I am merely clarifying the situation,” Cavitt said, ignoring Pierce’s sarcasm. “We have tried all available means to make the creature eat. It’s life is in danger if it continues to refuse food, and we have no intention of endangering its life or allowing it to do so. I wish to make it clear to the prisoner, to all present, and to those who will judge our work in the future that this is concern, not mere torture.”

I know where this is coming from, Spade thought, his eyes on Yvonne, who was standing behind Dr. Pierce on the other side of the bed. He hadn’t had a chance to speak with her since early this week when they had both met briefly to trade stories about Spade’s joust with Pierce and the missing bodies, and Yvonne’s joust with Cavitt and the likely reason for those missing bodies. Spade had been flabbergasted when she’d told him the risk she’d taken. Hadn’t she heard a word he’d said? Hadn’t she believed him even a little bit, even enough so that she’d be smart enough not to march up to a murderer and poke him with a stick?

But Spade simmered down as the week had passed and Cavitt truly did seem to be holding back a bit. And he couldn’t argue with the information she’d garnered—he was certain that Cavitt was responsible for West’s and Belmont’s bodies disappearing right out from under Dr. Pierce’s nose mere hours after Yvonne had oh-so-innocently offered to have them transferred. And the reporter.....Spade shivered in spite of himself, even though the room was oppressively warm. It was bad enough that Cavitt was capable of killing his own men, but to think that his influence extended beyond the base was downright terrifying.

“Well?” Cavitt was demanding as the alien, still strapped to the bed, semi-upright, and wide awake, continued to ignore him. “I know you can hear me. Stop pretending you can’t, and look at me!”

To Spade’s surprise, the alien did look, turning his head toward Cavitt and fixing him with a stare that Spade would swear could have frozen boiling water. Even Cavitt appeared startled by the force of that glare, visibly paling as it bored holes in him. Spade remembered this particular alien; certainly both had been intimidating, but this one had been enormously so. Spade felt his men tense, saw hands gripping weapons more tightly.

“That’s better,” Cavitt said. “Now, you.....”

But Cavitt stopped as the alien looked away again, cutting him off in mid-sentence. Cavitt hated being ignored, but being dismissed was even worse. Flushing angrily, he rounded on Pierce. “This is pointless. Begin the procedure.”

“For the last time, I give the medical orders,” Pierce answered. “Gracious, but your memory is poor. Shall we go over our respective roles again?”

“General Ramey has already approved the forced feeding,” Cavitt argued, “and it has refused our best efforts to get it to cooperate. There is no reason to wait any longer.”

“You call that our ‘best effort’?” Pierce asked dryly. “God help America.” Mental smoke seeped from Cavitt’s ears as Pierce smiled. Cavitt was getting better at deflecting Pierce’s barbs, but he could only ignore just so many before his temper took over. “I have a different definition of ‘best efforts’,” Pierce continued. “Lieutenant White would like to try again.”

“Lieutenant White?” Cavitt echoed. “It only responded to her once, and all of her subsequent efforts have failed. What could she possibly have to say that she hasn’t already said?”

“The Lieutenant would like one more chance to reach the prisoner, and I see no reason to deny her that. What’s wrong?” Pierce added. “Afraid she might succeed?”

Of course he is, Spade thought. He knew darned well that Cavitt would dearly love to shove food down the alien’s throat. The irony was that Yvonne’s earlier appeal to ‘history’s judgment’ might actually be providing justification for that. Having a weak, limp-looking alien, albeit one with an attitude, wasn’t the best way to prove one was taking good care of the nation’s most important prisoner. Spade could just see the wheels turning in Cavitt’s mind as he justified force under the guise of “saving it”.

“Of course I’m not afraid she’ll succeed,” Cavitt said sharply. “Very well, then, go ahead. Just as long as I’m not treated to another ‘alien rights’ lecture, and she intends to do her duty when her efforts are once again unsuccessful.”

“You’re such an optimist,” Pierce observed blandly. “And for the record, I wasn’t seeking your approval. I don’t need it.”

Cavitt scowled as Pierce gestured to Yvonne. “It’s all yours Lieutenant.”

Spade didn’t take his eyes off Yvonne as she stepped around Dr. Pierce to stand beside the alien’s bed. She had listened to the exchange between Pierce and Cavitt with a detached air, as though she were growing bored with their fencing. He tried to catch her eye to offer some silent encouragement, but her attention was focused completely on the alien, who was still looking away, seemingly oblivious to the discussion about its fate taking place right in front of it.

“Look at me,” she commanded, in a tone Spade had never heard her use.

“I tried that already,” Cavitt said impatiently.

Yvonne turned flinty eyes on him. “Perhaps he doesn’t find you much to look at.”

Every pair of eyes in the room save Yvonne’s and the alien’s widened, everyone no doubt thinking the same thing Spade was—what did she say? You’re going to regret that, Spade groaned inwardly as he saw Cavitt go absolutely speechless with indignation. Even Pierce managed to layer surprise on top of his usual amusement whenever anyone needled Cavitt. But Yvonne appeared unrepentant and unworried, her huge brown eyes more like pieces of coal as she took advantage of Cavitt’s tongue-tied astonishment to refocus her attention on the alien.

“I said, look at me,” she demanded again.

Spade averted his eyes, not willing to watch as she failed. This wasn’t going to work. And when it didn’t—and maybe even if it did—Cavitt would have her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. She’d gotten lucky when she’d taken Cavitt on the last time, but being lucky twice in one week was too much to ask.

Or....maybe not. Slowly, the alien turned its head toward Yvonne, and when its eyes fell on her, they widened. The two stared at each other for a full minute in total silence while the rest of the room watched, wondering what in blazes was going on. Even Cavitt appeared taken aback, a rarity if ever there was one.

Yvonne broke the silence first. “You hate him, don’t you?” she said intently, nodding her head toward Cavitt, whose mouth dropped open. “You’d love to do to him what he’s doing to you, wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you?”

Everyone waited, holding their collective breaths as if actually expecting an answer. The alien continued to stare at Yvonne in shock.

“You’ll get your chance to take your revenge,” Yvonne continued, “but not if you don’t eat. And while you’re waiting for that chance, there are dozens of ways to annoy him that don’t involve compromising yourself. Think how much fun it will be to toy with him. Think how much more fun toying with him will be if you’re well fed and rested. So eat. Now.” she added, the last word ringing through the room like a command.

Slowly, reluctantly, the alien reached for the tray of food on the table in front of it. The play in the straps which bound its arms was just long enough to allow it to reach. It picked up a fork, stabbing the food violently as though pretending it were Cavitt, never taking its eyes off Yvonne. A silent sigh of relief rippled through the room as it swallowed the first bite.

Yvonne crossed her arms in front of herself with an air of finality and turned to Pierce, whose eyebrows were now grazing the ceiling, and Cavitt, who looked ready to explode. “There. He’s eating.”

“So it is,” Pierce murmured in astonishment, watching the alien shovel as though he couldn’t believe it. “So it is. Well done, Lieutenant. A bit of an…….er……..unorthodox approach, but successful nonetheless.”

“Just a minute!” Cavitt hissed, his face purple. “Explain yourself, Lieutenant!”

“Now, Sheridan,” Pierce sighed, “don’t get your dander up. The Lieutenant was successful. How that was accomplished isn’t the point, is it?”

“I’d be happy to ‘explain myself’,” Yvonne broke in coolly. “He hates you. Why shouldn’t he? I merely used that simple fact to point out why eating would be in his best interests.” She paused. “But that’s not your real objection, is it? You wanted me to fail. You wanted to force the issue. You were looking forward to that....weren’t you?”

A shocked silence settled over the room. Cavitt appeared too angry for speech. Spade had to actively prevent his mouth from dropping open. What had gotten into her? She’d been defiant when she’d gone after Cavitt about feeding the prisoners earlier this week, but this was different. Her voice was so.....cold. So hard. There was a taunting edge to it now, like she was toying with someone she knew she could best. She’s wrong about that, Spade thought sadly. She’d survived her last brush with Cavitt, but he seriously doubted she’d survive this one.

Cavitt’s eyes swept the room, taking in the number of witnesses. “You did accomplish the objective, Lieutenant,” he said tightly, ignoring her accusations about his true desires, “but your attitude, as usual, needs adjustment. I will see you in my office in five minutes.” He turned on his heel, striding from the room without waiting for a reply, shoving past soldiers who scrambled out of his way.

“Wait,” Pierce said to Yvonne in a low voice as Cavitt’s footsteps faded away. “Make that thirty minutes, Lieutenant. Let me talk to him first. Lieutenant Spade,” he continued, “you may dismiss your men. We can take it from here.”

“Assuming it keeps eating,” one of the techs said under his breath, watching the alien eat while sending murderous glares Yvonne’s way.

“Oh, he’ll keep eating,” Yvonne said with mystifying certainty. “I can assure you of that.”

“Dismissed,” Spade said curtly as Pierce left the room with Yvonne on his heels, Spade hurrying to follow. Pierce might succeed in fending Cavitt off, but if he didn’t, they needed a contingency plan that didn’t have Yvonne winding up face down wearing a fake silver handprint.

He caught up with her at the end of the hallway outside the alien’s room. “Hey!” Spade called, slinging his rifle over his shoulder as he grabbed her arm and steered her toward an empty room. Most of the rooms down here were empty, as most of the soldiers were quartered upstairs. “I need to talk to you. In here.” He checked quickly to make sure no one was in sight before whisking her inside.

As the door closed behind them, Yvonne gave him a measuring look. “Do you make a habit of grabbing females and dragging them around, Lieutenant?”

Spade’s voice stuck in his throat. This was the second time he’d done something like this. “Look, I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “But for some reason, you seem to have developed a death wish, and I have a problem with that.”

Her eyebrows rose. “Meaning?”

“Meaning I don’t think you’re going to get out of this one alive no matter how much you got Cavitt to care about ‘history’s judgment’,” Spade said. “What were you thinking, going after him in public like that?”

“Do I take this to mean that you disagreed with my assessment of his true desires?”

Spade shook his head impatiently. “No, of course not. You’re absolutely right about what he wanted. But couldn’t you have kept that to yourself? You got what you wanted—why did you have to rub it in? Wasn’t thwarting his ‘true desires’ rubbing it in enough?”

“No,” she announced, after a moment’s consideration. “It was not enough. I wanted to...... ‘rub it in’ more.”

Sighing, Spade leaned against the door. “I’m willing to bet there’ll be a high price tag on that. Maybe I can get you out of here.” He was quiet for a moment, thinking. “I’m still on a pedestal for catching the aliens—maybe I can bribe some of my guys to keep quiet while I sneak you out. I......”

“That won’t be necessary,” Yvonne interrupted, her voice dropping several degrees, that hard look back in her eyes. “I assure you I can handle Major Cavitt. You needn’t squander your celebrity on my behalf.”

“Why not? Might as well use it for something.”

“I believe I can confidently say that I could do without any more of your so-called ‘help’,” Yvonne said frostily.

Spade stared at her in confusion. “What are you talking about? Why do you sound like you’re mad at me? I told you how Cavitt tricked me into helping him capture the first alien. I’m not happy about it, but at least I helped one of them escape. Doesn’t that count for something?”

Apparently not. She didn’t answer, just stared at him, those beautiful brown eyes boring into his as Spade wondered what he’d done to anger her this time. “I’d love to hang around and find out what I’ve done to piss you off this time, but you don’t have that kind of time,” he said shortly. “You’re supposed to see Cavitt in just a few minutes, and we need to talk about how to keep you alive in case he gets the urge to murder again. We.......”

Spade stopped, suddenly realizing that this might be the last time he’d see Yvonne. If anything happened to her, that would leave him as the only one who knew the score, leave him all alone with no one to talk to. The only reason this experience had been the least bit tolerable was because she was here; without her, it would be downright unbearable.

Impulsively, he took her face in his hands and kissed her.

She stiffened, but didn’t pull away. When he released her a few seconds later, the brown eyes had turned ironic.

“You call that ‘talking’?”

“Sorry,” Spade mumbled. “I just….it’s just.......I might never see you again,” he finished in a whisper.

“I swear I will never understand you humans as long as I live.”

“I…..what did you say?”

Then her eyes changed, blackness rolling over them, and Spade backed up until he hit the wall behind him.





******************************************************





9:30 a.m.

Chambers Grocery Store, Corona, New Mexico




“Throw in a another pound of coffee for me, will you Bill?”

“Sure thing,” Bill Chambers answered. “What’s with all the food? You got company?”

In a manner of speaking, David Proctor thought, watching the grocer bag his purchases. Alien company. But alien or no, Brivari was another mouth to feed. Food had been disappearing fast, and coffee even faster.

“So,” Bill Chambers said as he punched buttons on the cash register, “what do you make of all this alien business?”

David reached for his wallet. “The Army said they made a mistake. I tend to believe them.”

“Well, I don’t,” Bill said stoutly. “That’ll be $24.36.”

“Really? Why not?” David asked, counting out bills on the counter.

“For starters, they’ve still got the north half of Pohlman ranch blocked off. And besides, how can you confuse a flying saucer with a weather balloon? If people in the Army make ‘mistakes’ like that, we’ve got bigger problems than aliens. I don’t believe that weather balloon bit for a second.”

“Oh, I think they found something,” David said, fishing in his pocket for thirty-six cents. “Everyone seems to think it was a Russian plane, or something like that. I can see where they wouldn’t want that to get out, but I agree the weather balloon story wasn’t particularly inspired.”

“But what about what Dee saw?” Bill asked as David handed him the change.

“ ‘What Dee saw’?” David repeated, his heart beginning to beat faster. “What do you mean?”

“She was in here with Mac just two weeks ago on the Fourth, and Mac was saying she told him she’d seen a spaceship out there.”

David managed a smile. “She was just pulling his leg.”

“That’s what she said,” Bill answered. “But you must admit it’s damned funny that she said that, and then just days later the Army announced it’d found a flying saucer.”

David shrugged. He didn’t know what to say. Bill was right—it did look too coincidental for words. Probably because it was.

“And what about that handyman that showed up and disappeared?” Bill continued.

“What about him?”

“He was weird,” Bill said, leaning on the counter. “Dressed all wrong, barely said a word. Tangled with that Miltnor thug, who went and got plastered that very night and mauled by a coyote, not that that’s any great loss.”

David gathered up his bags. “Dressing weird and not being chatty doesn’t make someone an alien, Bill.”

“You didn’t hear what Miltnor’s cronies said. At the time I wrote it off; they’re not exactly what you’d call trustworthy. But now….I wonder.”

“What did they say?” David asked, wondering if Dee had told him what Urza had done that day he’d played delivery boy for Bill.

“They said the handyman was holding Miltnor up in the air against the wall without touching him. How about that?” Bill said triumphantly, eyes gleaming.

“Did you actually see this?”

Bill’s face fell. “No; Miltnor was on the ground when I got there. But he was scared stiff, and that alone is strange where Denny Miltnor is concerned. Was concerned,” he amended. “Say, did Dee see anything weird? You should ask her!”

“I will,” David said politely. “But I think she would have noticed if Denny were hanging in midair.”

“Yeah, I suppose she would have,” Bill said, deflating again. “Still….I was thinking….”

You think too much, David thought wearily. “What?”

“Well…if that handyman was a space alien…I’ve got no complaints,” Bill said thoughtfully. “He did the work I asked him to do. He kept my merchandise safe, and he protected your daughter.”

You have no idea, David thought sadly. He’d grown fond of Urza in the short time he’d known him. It was odd to miss someone you’d known for such a short time.

“So if he was an alien, maybe they’re not bad,” Bill was musing. “They even look like us. Maybe we’re panicking for nothing.”

“I think we’re panicking for nothing, aliens or no,” David said amiably. He hoisted his bags off the counter, pausing when his eyes fell on the bakery case. “I see your wife has hopped on the bandwagon.”

“Those are selling like hotcakes!” Bill beamed. “Want some?”

David stared at the cookies in the case. Essie Chambers had made her Easter egg cookie cutter do double duty, turning the egg shape upside down and frosting the cookies in a startlingly accurate resemblance to Brivari and his people.

“Here, take a couple for Em and Dee. My treat,” Bill said, bustling around and bagging two cookies. “Ship or no ship, this business could transform this town. Notice all the strangers? They’re here because of the headlines. Essie can’t bake these fast enough.”

David gave a wan smile as Bill plopped the cookies into one of his grocery bags. Dee would go nuts when she saw these. Either that, or she’d laugh. And what would Brivari think?

“Thanks, Bill,” David said, heading for the door. “Much appreciate it.”

“And there’s another reason I think that’s no weather balloon up there,” Bill said darkly, looking out the window. “Just look at that.”

David glanced out the window to see Mac Brazel climbing out of his truck across the street. As he headed into the nearby hardware store, a car parked a couple of spaces behind Mac rolled its windows down.

“See that car?” Bill asked, indicating the car with the newly rolled down windows. “I know those guys; they’re Army. I bet they’re following Mac. Why go to all that trouble for a weather balloon?”

David’s hands clenched more tightly around his bags. From what he could see the men looked perfectly ordinary, wearing civilian clothes and sitting in an ordinary car. Cavitt had apparently decided to get crafty after Emily foiled the direct approach. And here they thought they’d gotten the Army off Mac’s tail.

Bill Chambers shot him a knowing look. “Weather balloon my foot.”



******************************************************



TruValue Hardware Store




The tiny bell on the door tinkled faintly as David closed the door of the hardware store behind him. He had kept an eye on the two men in the car close to Mac’s as he loaded the groceries into his trunk. They didn’t get out, weren’t looking at maps, weren’t doing anything but sitting there. They were indeed dressed in civilian clothes, but that meant nothing. Bill Chambers saw everything and everybody that went through here, including a few things he didn’t even realize he’d seen. If he said they were Army, they were Army.

Mac was in the back of the store sorting through various sizes of worm gear hose clamps. “Morning, Mac,” David said.

“Morning, Dave,” Mac replied. He looked drawn and tired, not at all like his usually cheerful self.

David cast a careful glance around. No one was nearby. “Look, I was just wondering if you’d noticed…..”

“Saw’em,” Mac said shortly, not looking at him. “Started following me yesterday.”

“Following you?”

“They always hang back,” Mac said in a low voice, still picking through the clamps. “Never approach me directly. But they’ve been following me everywhere I go. When I’m home, their car is parked a ways up the street.”

David digested this in silence. This was much more low key then the Army’s previous attempt to bully Mac into silence. This would be harder to stop.

“So,” Mac continued, still not looking at him. “Did something happen?”

“Happen?”

“Well, they left me alone for several days, then all of a sudden they’re back. So I was wondering if you knew of anything that would make them do that.”

Oh, yeah, David thought grimly. The Army had lost Brivari; no doubt they thought Mac might be hiding him.

“No details,” Mac muttered, as David opened his mouth to reply. “I can’t tell what I don’t know. Not sure I want to know anyway. I’m getting sick of this crap. So just nod or shake your head—is there a reason for them to be following me?”

Mutely, David nodded.

“Then I think it’s best we not be seen together much,” Mac said, finally choosing two hose clamps.

“Mac, we’re neighbors,” David protested.

“Seeing as what they’re looking for is probably only one house away, I still think it’s better that we not be too chummy. Not now. Am I right?”

David hesitated, then nodded again. Mac was right—the Army was closer than it knew. Too close.

“Nice seeing you, Dave,” Mac said in a normal voice, as he turned and headed toward the cashier.

“Nice seeing you too,” David answered, his heart heavy.

David left the hardware store while Mac was still paying, crossing the street to where he’d left his car in the grocery store parking lot. He pulled out onto the road, heading for home, but as he came abreast of the car with the soldiers, he stopped and stared directly into the eyes of the startled young soldier in the passenger seat.

There was no one behind him, so David stared for a good long minute. He counted the seconds in his head, watching both the soldiers squirm as they realized they’d been made. Then he drove off, smiling with satisfaction.

He probably shouldn’t have done that, but God, that had felt good.




******************************************************




Eagle Rock Military Base




Spade pressed himself against the wall, horrified, gaping at the alien wearing Yvonne’s face, not to mention her body. He reached for his rifle only to have it ripped away by invisible hands, landing with a clatter in the far corner of the room. He glanced at the door, but the alien got there first, planting Yvonne’s sensible rubber-soled shoes firmly in front of it. He was trapped.

“Who are you?” Spade whispered.

The alien raised Yvonne’s eyebrows. “You mean you haven’t figured that out? You didn’t strike me as that stupid before.”

“No, I mean which one are you?” Spade demanded. “The one who escaped, or the other one? And what happened to Yvonne?”

Yvonne’s borrowed eyes flashed. He’d had no idea her face could look that angry. “I am the one you whacked with a stick, breaking several of my bones. I am the one who spared your miserable life later that night. I am the one you betrayed and left in a ditch for that asinine superior of yours to find. Does that answer your question?”

Spade swallowed hard, but kept his voice level. “If that’s true, then you’re also the one I helped escape a few days ago by ordering my men not to shoot. And no, that doesn’t entirely answer my question. Where’s Yvonne?”

“Presumably right where I left her.”

“Right where you…..did you…..you didn’t….”

“Didn’t what?” the alien asked. “Kill her?”

Spade’s throat tightened. “If you hurt her…if you harmed so much as one hair on her head, I swear to God I’ll make you pay for it!”

The alien tilted Yvonne’s head and gave Spade a long, measuring stare. Spade’s fingers twitched at his side. His threat had been an empty one, of course. Any move he made would likely render him dead in seconds.

“She is in the last place anyone would look for her while on duty—her quarters,” the alien said finally. “Surely you don’t think I’d be so foolish as to harm the only ally I have in this charming place, do you?”

“You.....you mean......she knows you’re doing this?”

“Of course. I am here with her consent in an attempt to free my companion. Which will, by extension, free the rest of you as well.”

Jesus! Spade’s head spun as the implications of such a scheme swam before his eyes. Here he’d thought she’d been taking a horrible risk going up against Cavitt, and now this?

“You care for the healer, don’t you?” the alien was asking, running a thoughtful hand over Yvonne’s lips. “Is that why you did….whatever it was you just did?” It paused. “What was that that we just did, anyway?”

“You know so much about humans,” Spade said defensively, feeling his face growing warm. He couldn’t believe he’d just kissed........oh God, he didn’t even want to think about it. “Don’t you know?”

“I studied human anatomy. I didn’t bother to study human physical practices.” A look of disgust crossed its face. “Good Lord. We’d didn’t just mate did we?”

“No! Of course not!” Spade sputtered, his face virtually on fire. “That would be a lot more…complicated.”

“Not everywhere, it wouldn’t,” the alien replied casually. “Why is your face so red?”

“Can we stay on the subject?” Spade said crossly. “You shouldn’t be here!”

“You have only yourself to blame for that,” the alien replied, eyes glinting. “You put me here.”

“I also got you out of here!” Spade retorted. “I’ve had my butt in a sling ever since because of that, and what do you do? You waltz back in here and turn yourself into a nurse!”

“You expect me to leave my companion to your ‘Major Cavitt’s’ tender mercies?”

“If you get yourself captured again, you’ll both be enjoying Cavitt’s ‘tender mercies’!”

The alien shook Yvonne’s head sadly. “Humans. Such a contrary race. First you accuse me of being a murderer, and now you object to my loyalty to my colleague. I suppose if I just left him here, you’d decide I was a cold-hearted bastard.”

Spade sighed in exasperation. “Look, I just don’t want to see them nail you again. And Yvonne is not your only ally. You were right—the two soldiers Cavitt said you killed had fake handprints painted on their bodies. He was lying. I found out the night they caught you, and I’ve been trying to make it up to you ever since.”

“If you truly wish to ‘make it up to me’, as you put it, you can start by telling me what happened the night my companion was captured,” the alien said. “But not now. I have a meeting with your Major Cavitt that I’m thoroughly looking forward to.”

“Yeah, about that,” Spade said testily, “do you realize how much trouble you’ve gotten her into? What’s going to happen to her after you leave and she gets to bear the brunt of your big mouth?”

The alien looked surprised. “You think I have endangered the Healer?”

“No, I don’t think you’ve endangered her, I know you’ve endangered her. I don’t know what they call it wherever you come from, but here it’s called ‘insubordination’, and officers don’t take kindly to it.”

“Nonsense,” the alien said dismissively. “On the contrary, I have made your Healer invaluable to her superiors.”

“How?” Spade demanded. “By bitching at Major Cavitt? By insulting him in front of everyone in sight?”

The alien studied him a moment before settling down into a nearby chair, crossing Yvonne’s legs just exactly the way she did. “You don’t know how this works, do you?”

“Sure I know ‘how it works’,” Spade said sarcastically, trying to take his mind off the fact that the alien had managed to assume not only Yvonne’s form, but her posture and habits as well. “You pop your cork and she gets to pay the piper.”

The alien blinked. “I have no idea what bottle stoppers and musicians have to do with this, but I fear you misunderstand. Your government has recently acquired a very valuable possession—my colleague. Any time an item of value is acquired, be it people, technology, intelligence, whatever, there will inevitably be a bid for power, for the opportunity to control and manipulate the valued item. Your superiors will soon be inundated with attempts to take their prize from them, if they haven’t been already. They will need to prove to their superiors that they have a right to maintain control.”

“How does all that make Yvonne so valuable?”

“Do try to stay with me here,” the alien said, sounding like a weary school teacher. “My companion has responded to no one but your Healer—the fact that it was I who convinced him to eat is irrelevant because everyone else saw only the Healer. Everyone else believes that she is the only one who has managed to reach him, to influence his behavior. Your Major Cavitt cannot afford to harm such a valuable tool, however infuriated he may find himself. Her success may well be the only thing that allows him to keep his position as jailer, something he desires more than the obeisance of his inferiors.”

Sheesh. This guy—girl?—sounded like a walking dictionary. “Are you some sort of politician? Or professor?”

“Neither. And both.” It rose, patting Yvonne’s uniform back into place just as she would have. It was downright creepy standing there in front of Yvonne when it really wasn’t Yvonne. “I will see you later tonight, in your quarters after you’re off duty.”

“All right,” Spade said uneasily. He wouldn’t be off duty until after dark, and he wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of a nocturnal visitor. “But how are you getting in here? We’ve got the place locked up six ways to Sunday.”

“I have my ways,” the alien replied cryptically. “And you can’t tell what you don’t know.” It brushed past him, heading for the door.

“Wait!” Spade called. “Don’t you need to know where my quarters are and when I’m off?”

The alien turned and gave Spade a sardonic smile. “I know where your quarters are, Lieutenant. I know where everyone’s quarters are. I can tell you when every single soldier in this compound is on or off duty. I know what all of you ate for breakfast, that you’re having something called ‘chipped beef on toast’ for lunch, and that a soldier named ‘Walker’ likes to smoke in the lavatory down the hall. I have already been here for hours.”

Spade stomach churned as he listened to this recital. After all Cavitt had gone through to make this place impregnable, none of it had worked. “One more thing,” he added. “When I see you—I mean Yvonne—how do I know if it’s you or her?”

The alien smiled a truly disturbing smile. “You won’t.”





******************************************************




Pierce sat comfortably in Cavitt’s office chair, enjoying the various shades of disbelief and hope alternately marching across Cavitt’s face. It was always amusing to watch military men trying to grasp abstract concepts. So many of them simply didn’t believe what they couldn’t see, couldn’t fathom what they couldn’t touch. They were literalists, driven by their senses, impatient with the hypothetical. Not all of them, of course—the truly great military men didn’t suffer this particular shortcoming, a huge factor in why they became great in the first place. But the lower one went in the ranks, the more literalists one would generally find, until you scraped bottom when you arrived at the types who only knew how to talk with their fists. Sheridan Cavitt was a slightly more socially acceptable version of this bottom dweller....but only slightly.

After watching Lieutenant White commit gross insubordination with Major Cavitt, Pierce had decided that Cavitt would have to be brought into the loop on his latest discovery. The Lieutenant was becoming bold as brass, and Cavitt was no doubt itching to swat her with his brass, so something had to be done. Upsetting the Lieutenant would be very bad for business right about now. Of course, this meant having to explain the hypothetical to Sheridan, and that was quite a piece of work. Pierce leaned back in the chair, relishing the respite while Cavitt’s meager brain worked through the relatively simple explanation he’d just heard.

“Is this even possible?” Cavitt asked, his eyes narrowing as though Pierce were trying to put one over on him.

“Of course it’s possible. My preliminary tests were very encouraging,” Pierce said patiently. “Just think, Sheridan,” he continued, knowing full well that he’d be far more likely to win Cavitt’s cooperation by appealing to his lust for power than his piddling sense of reason. “You could have the Army you’ve always dreamed of. And with a discovery like this, you’d be leading it.”

“You don’t care about the Army,” Cavitt said suspiciously.

“Of course I don’t. And you don’t care about the Nobel I want either,” Pierce replied. “So what if we have different motivations? We can both benefit from this.”

Cavitt was silent, still churning. “You know, I didn’t have to come to you with this,” Pierce said pointedly. “I could have pursued it and left you out entirely.”

“So why didn’t you?”

Pierce shifted in his chair. “Because I have a far greater chance of success with your cooperation.”

My cooperation?” Cavitt echoed. “I’m not a doctor. What could you possibly need from me?”

“Two things. First, your complicity.”

“Complicity?”

“You know what the reaction would be if people found out what we’re attempting here,” Pierce said sagely. “Of course we’ll tell General Ramey the basics—and that will virtually ensure that we stay in command, by the way—but I have no intention of revealing the rest. Do you have a problem with that?”

Cavitt’s face darkened. “How dare you ask me that! I have never shied away from doing what must be done, no matter how difficult the decision. And neither did you; you could always see clearly. We both could. And then you decided you had a nobler calling and hid behind a caduceus, thinking that would soften the more difficult decisions, or justify them—as if they needed that.” He paused. “You were a good soldier, Daniel. You should never have left.”

“According to the oak leaves on my shoulder, I haven’t left,” Pierce remarked. “And I am still a soldier, Sheridan. I merely fight on a different battlefield, using tactics that escape you and yours. Do I have your complicity?”

“Of course. And the second thing?”

“Your patience,” Pierce said carefully, knowing he was approaching dangerous ground. “It will take months to gather the necessary data before we can proceed with the first attempt. Natural processes can’t be rushed…and they can be interfered with. That is why you must give Lieutenant White a long leash.”

“Impossible!” Cavitt snapped. “She is guilty of insubordination, public insubordination. I can’t allow that to go unpunished! Can you just imagine the effect that will have on the rest of the troops? No, you probably can’t, because…..”

“Must we go over this tired ground again?” Pierce interrupted wearily. “Let’s not, and say we did. I will speak with the Lieutenant and attempt to rein her in, but you must make an effort as well. We mustn’t upset her; that will throw everything off. This will never work if you keep fouling up the research.”

Cavitt sighed, fuming, and stared at the ceiling. Pierce let him fret for a moment before speaking again. “Perhaps a compromise would be to craft a situation where the Lieutenant’s occasional ‘insubordination’ would not be considered unusual.”

“There is no such ‘situation’,” Cavitt said darkly.

“There is if we create one,” Pierce said firmly. “Perception is highly personal, but it can be crafted. Directed. Encouraged. Don’t you even want to hear the details?” He leaned forward, fixing Cavitt with a hard stare. “As a nurse, Lieutenant White is mine to assign. I can do this without you, but there is an enormously greater chance of success with you. But are you up to it? Are you capable of setting aside your personal feelings to get the job done? Do you want this, or don’t you?”

Cavitt’s eye’s flamed, swinging to meet Pierce’s.

“What did you have in mind?”



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'll post Chapter 15 next Sunday. :)
BRIVARI: "In our language, the root of the word 'Covari' means 'hidden'. I'm always there, Your Highness, even if you don't see me."
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Kathy W
Obsessed Roswellian
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Joined: Thu Oct 31, 2002 5:06 am

Chapter 15

Post by Kathy W »

Hello to everyone reading! :)






CHAPTER FIFTEEN


July 19, 1947, 1000 hours

Eagle Rock Military Base




Alone in her quarters with only the light from the bathroom to see by, Yvonne White paced back and forth, back and forth, waiting for the alien to return. The number of misgivings she had about this particular strategy would fill an encyclopedia. What had she been thinking when she agreed to this ridiculous plan? How could the alien ever pull off being her?

To be sure, he could look like her. When he had first announced he needed something and she had asked what that was, he had responded by holding his hand over the light once again, making the room dark for just a few seconds. By the time Yvonne had opened her mouth to protest, the light was back and she was staring at herself without benefit of a mirror.

“No,” she had whispered, backing away from the carbon copy of herself, perfect right down to the slightly crooked left upper eye tooth. “No, no, no, NO.” There was something unholy about seeing oneself replicated like this, something almost sacrilegious. “This is wrong,” she had insisted, horrified. “It will never work!”

Over the course of the next half hour, the alien had worn her down. After changing back to his original shape, of course, which she had insisted he do immediately if he wanted her to even consider this. He had pointed out that she had regular access to his companion, and that the captured alien would respond to him in ways he would never respond to humans. “I need to keep his spirits up,” the alien had argued. “The loss of his abilities is for him the equivalent of what losing all your limbs would be for you. I am the only other one of his kind on this planet—he needs me if he is going to endure long enough for me to find a way to get him out of here. And everyone will think he is responding to you, further increasing your value to your commander.”

“But how will he even know it’s you?” Yvonne had asked, bewildered. “You can’t just walk up to him and announce, ‘It’s me!’.”

“We are capable of identifying other members of our race on sight,” the alien had answered. “He will know.”

“But you can’t talk to each other,” she had persisted. “He's always surrounded by several people, and there’s always someone in the observation room.”

“We have other ways of communicating.”

“ ‘Other ways’? What……..” Then she'd stopped, remembering the conversation the aliens had had with one another the night she first met them, a conversation with no sound. And remembering the words she’d heard in her head twice now. The words she had heard without her ears. The words she’d convinced herself she’d imagined.

“Is that what I heard the night you escaped?” Yvonne had asked. “You told me to ‘back up’, but I never saw your mouth move.”

The alien had looked at her in surprise. “You heard me?”

Yvonne had nodded. “I heard you, but no one else did. It was the same thing earlier with your friend; he said something to me the same way, I think, and I was the only one who heard it.”

“Your understanding telepathic speech would be advantageous,” the alien had murmured, more to himself than to her.

“ ‘Telepathic speech’?”

<Direct mind to mind communication.>

“But humans can’t do that,” she had begun to protest, her eyes widening as she realized a moment later that she just had. Again.

The alien had shaken his head and smiled slightly, the first indication of a smile she'd seen on either of them. “Can't they now? The human brain is capable of so much more than you realize. It’s astonishing how little of it you use.”

“Wait a minute….” Yvonne had said, struggling to think as that strange speech echoed in her mind. “How do you know what the human brain is capable of? Have you been here before? I mean for some other reason than hiding your children?”

“We are wasting time,” the alien had said impatiently. And the conversation had turned back to how they might accomplish the switch, and what he would need to know to pose as Yvonne.

Checking her watch for the fifth time in the past ten minutes, Yvonne saw that the alien was a good twenty minutes overdue. What could be keeping him? Had something gone wrong? She hadn’t heard any alarms sound, and no one had come looking for her, so presumably he hadn’t been discovered.

She had no sooner thought this when she heard the stealthy sound of a slowly turning doorknob.

Racing for the bathroom, Yvonne pulled the door almost closed and turned off the bathroom light. Her doorknob was turning, and whoever was turning it must have crept up very quietly; she usually heard anyone approaching her door. Perhaps it was the alien returning? But the knob was turning much too carefully for it to be someone posing as her. She would never have opened the door to her own quarters so quietly. It had to be someone else.

Yvonne held her breath has the door to her quarters opened, admitting a shaft of light and a booted foot.




******************************************************



“Lieutenant,” Major Cavitt said crisply. “Close the door and take a seat.”

“Yes sir.”

Brivari, still wearing the form of the female healer, performed the hand gesture known as a ‘salute’ as the Healer had taught him before obediently taking a seat, studying the two humans across from him as he did so. The one called ‘Cavitt’ was seated at his desk, while the one called ‘Pierce’ was standing behind him. The former was merely a high-placed thug, a common failing of the military. The latter appeared less cruel, but Brivari had the uncomfortable impression he was the more dangerous of the two. Regardless, he would have to deal with them both. They were the linchpins in the system—at least for the moment. As he had pointed out to the one called ‘Spade’, that could change at any moment.

“The Major and I are delighted with your success today,” Dr. Pierce began, cutting off Cavitt, who had only just opened his mouth to speak. “General Ramey will be very pleased with your ability to reach the prisoner. That’s why Major Cavitt has agreed to overlook your.....er.....somewhat novel approach. In this case, the end more than justified the means, didn’t it, Major?”

The glare Cavitt directed at the doctor was almost as toxic as the one earlier directed toward Jaddo, making it clear that Cavitt hadn’t “agreed” to anything of the sort. They hate each other, Brivari thought. Good. As the human book known as the "Bible" correctly noted, houses divided against themselves rarely remained standing. Certainly the threat of losing their prize could be expected to make that 'house' less divided than usual, but only somewhat. The mutual enmity evident here could be put to very good use.

“I won’t quarrel with your success today, Lieutenant,” Cavitt said icily, “but perhaps in the future, you could find a source of motivation other than hatred of me. I would also appreciate it if you would refrain from accusations that I enjoy torture.”

“I understand,” Brivari said promptly. “One should never make such predilections public. I was indiscreet. I apologize.”

“We have a proposal for you, Lieutenant,” Pierce said hastily, as Cavitt struggled to decide whether to give more weight to the apology or the veiled jab. “A new assignment, actually.”

“I’m being reassigned?” Brivari asked, suddenly wary. The last thing he needed was for the Healer to be removed from this place.

“You’re staying here,” Pierce confirmed. “We’re merely altering your focus.” He moved to the front of the desk, perching casually on a corner. “It likes you, Lieutenant. You’re the only one it’s responded to. We’d like you to spend more time with it. Get close to it. Befriend it, if possible.”

“You think he’ll be more likely to spill the secrets of the universe into my ears than yours?” Brivari asked, suppressing a smile.

“We think it more likely to cooperate with us if it has an advocate, someone who’s there to look after its welfare,” Pierce said smoothly. “That will be your new assignment. Given your oft-voiced feelings about how it's being treated and your demonstrated skill in understanding its motivations, the Major and I feel you are absolutely the best person to convince it that cooperating with us is in its best interests.”

“In other words, the two of you are more likely to remain in command if you can demonstrate that you are likely to gain its cooperation,” Brivari said dryly. “I would imagine this is more about your best interests.”

“And yours, Lieutenant,” Cavitt said pointedly. “How indulgent do you think new commanders would be with your now habitual insubordination?”

“You’ve heard me say that I don’t wish to harm the creature,” Pierce added. “I mean that quite sincerely. It’s of no use to me dead or injured. I wish to study it, to learn from it. Unfortunately, there are those who feel differently....and their voices are growing louder. If you are truly interested in its welfare, Lieutenant, you’ll do everything in your power to make certain it cooperates with us. Should other interests gain control....”—he sighed dramatically—“....let’s just say I don’t think you would be pleased with the outcome. Nor would I.”

I’m sure you wouldn’t, Brivari thought darkly. Still, this “assignment” could only work to his advantage. Access would no longer be a problem, and as it might take awhile to get Jaddo out of here, having the female healer as a companion of sorts would be preferable to being alone and bored senseless.

“Very well, then,” Brivari said. “I’ll do my best. What would you like me to do?”

“Excellent!” Pierce smiled. “You’ll begin by taking all your meals with it, encourage it to keep eating. We'll send you in with the next meal. And you’ll be excused from most medical duties in the future. We don’t want it to associate you with anything....unpleasant.”

“Are you planning on doing something unpleasant?” Brivari asked.

“You will still be responsible for your other duties, however,” Pierce added, as Cavitt's eyes narrowed. “Dismissed.”

Brivari shot one more appraising look Cavitt’s way before rising and saluting. As expected, Cavitt had submerged his desire for revenge beneath his desire for dominance, albeit reluctantly. And much as he hated to admit it, Pierce may have a point. Brivari didn’t believe for a moment that he only wanted to “learn” from Jaddo, but it was quite possible that Pierce was the lesser of several available evils.

“Lieutenant,” called a voice behind him as he headed into the hallway. Brivari turned. Pierce had followed him out of Cavitt’s office and fell into step beside him. “Getting bold, aren’t you, Lieutenant?”

“Oh?”

“I know you’re not happy here,” Pierce said. “I know you’re especially unhappy with Major Cavitt, but if I were you, I wouldn’t push my luck.”

“Meaning?”

"Meaning you should drop the habit of constantly needling the Major."

"An activity in which you engage on a regular basis," Brivari noted.

"Touché," Pierce replied, smiling slightly. "I won't argue that it's not a pleasant pastime, or that he doesn't deserve it. I would argue that I know when to quit, and I have a measure of protection you don't, as in Major Cavitt outranks you. The consequences of your behavior could be severe."

“Such as?” Brivari said, stopping and turning to face Pierce. “Demotion? Meaningless in this situation. Reassignment? Dismissal? I know far too much to have me running loose.”

“How about court martial?” Pierce asked.

“Where I would air all your alien laundry for others to hear? I don’t think so,” Brivari said acidly. “If it came to that, he wouldn’t court martial me, Doctor. He’d kill me.”

Pierce’s eyebrows rose. “That’s a bit harsh.”

"But it won't come to that," Brivari continued. "As you pointed out, I am the only one who has managed to influence the behavior of his precious prisoner. That makes me invaluable to Major Cavitt because he values his position as jailer above all else. And as he is fond of pointing out, I am here whether I want to be or not. We’re stuck with each other, the Major and I, and given that fact, I’ll be bold when I see fit. He put me here. He has no one to blame for that but himself.”

Pierce eyed the Healer's form for a moment in silence. “I suppose you have a point,” he said at last. “Circumstances do give you a certain leeway as far as your behavior goes. I’m surprised,” he continued, beginning to walk again. “You never struck me as a strategist.”

“You have no idea how much you don’t know about me,” Brivari said with a perfectly straight face.

“Apparently,” Pierce agreed. "But I do know a great deal about Major Cavitt. I've managed to bring him to heel in this situation, but should you continue this behavior, my luck—our luck—might just run out. Do everyone a favor, and back off on the insults."

Pierce fell silent as both of them passed the stairway checkpoints which led to the basement, Brivari using the personal information the Healer had given him to answer the questions posed. "I know this hasn't been easy for you, Lieutenant," Pierce continued as they entered the basement hallway, "but I think you’ll find your situation less onerous now. I know you sympathize with the creature. That’s why I feel this particular assignment is much more in tune with your needs. And our needs compliment each other's. You need to see the creature well treated, to feel you are positively affecting a situation with which you disagree. I need its cooperation. We can help each other, you and I, and you needn't be constantly aggravating the Major in order to do that. Besides," he added with a smile, "aggravating the Major is my job."

"One you do very well," Brivari admitted.

"I try," Pierce answered with mock seriousness. "I have a good feeling about this, Lieutenant. You’ve already connected with it. Perhaps it senses your sympathy. Spend time with it. Get to know it. Develop a….relationship with it, if you will. There’s no telling where that could lead.” He veered off into a side hallway. "I'll see you at lunch."

Brivari watched Pierce walk away, wondering what the doctor was getting at. Something in his tone had given him the uncomfortable feeling that what had stayed Cavitt's hand was more than just his desire to stay in command. Cavitt had almost lashed out several times, withdrawing reluctantly only when Pierce had reined him in. Which meant Pierce had something Cavitt wanted, something more than the value of the Healer as a conduit.

A couple of soldiers passed by, smiling suggestively at the Healer's form. Brivari had already noticed this form tended to render the male of the species virtually idiotic. For just a moment he had a flash of sympathy for Vilandra, who had been lusted after with every breath she drew. Is this what that felt like? No wonder she'd been the way she was. He headed for the Healer's quarters, only to stop again when it dawned on him what Cavitt and Pierce might be after.

Good Lord, Brivari thought, lapsing into the human expression as he shook his head, smiling. How very ambitious of the good doctor....and how arrogant. Then again, the younger races frequently were, thinking they could pull of feats well ahead of their time. But no matter. If his suspicions were correct, that would serve his purposes well. Jaddo's safety would be assured as the humans occupied themselves pursuing something that Brivari knew was downright impossible.




******************************************************




Hidden in her bathroom, the door ever so slightly ajar, Yvonne watched the owner of the booted foot walk into her quarters and quietly close the door behind him. Whoever it was was taking great pains to be silent; his feet made no sound on the tile floor, and the door closed virtually noiselessly, cutting off the light from the hall and throwing the room into complete darkness. She waited, holding her breath, not trusting herself to breathe quietly.

“Yvonne?” a voice whispered.

Yvonne’s heart skipped a beat. There was only one person in this compound who addressed her by her first name.

Suddenly the light clicked on. The glare was blinding after the total darkness, and she squinted for a few seconds until her eyes adjusted and she could see if her ears were correct.

They were. Stephen Spade stood in front of her door, eyes carefully scanning the room. What was he doing here? If they’d caught the alien, there would have been an audible commotion. But the compound had been quiet, so Spade’s presence couldn’t have anything to do with the alien.

Spade hesitated for a good long minute before beginning to systematically search her room. Yvonne watched in astonishment as he rifled through her wardrobe, checked under her bed, and looked behind furniture, a frantic look on his face. What on earth was he doing? And why? Had he lied to her when he said he no longer trusted Cavitt? Was he really working for him, luring her along, waiting to betray her?

Spade was peeking behind her nightstand. Despite the fact that her quarters were luxurious by military standards, there still wasn’t much in them. He would no doubt head for the bathroom any minute now, and Yvonne decided to take matters into her own hands. Better that she should surprise him rather than the other way around.

“Can I help you, Lieutenant?” Yvonne said suddenly, throwing open the bathroom door, her hand on the light switch as though she had just finished using the facilities.

Spade spun around, flabbergasted, a book from her nightstand in his hands.

“I said, can I help you, Lieutenant?” Yvonne repeated with as much ice in her tone as she could muster. “Or perhaps you don’t need assistance ransacking my room?”

Spade closed his mouth, which had flopped open at the sight of her. "You're okay," he whispered. "Thank God. When I saw the light off and couldn't find you, I was afraid....." His eyes narrowed. “Who are you?” he asked suspiciously.

Now it was Yvonne’s turn to be flabbergasted. “I beg your pardon?”

“Where did we meet right before you were supposedly transferred?” Spade demanded.

“Lieutenant, what are you….”

Where?” Spade demanded again.

“In my barracks,” Yvonne replied, exasperated. “You snuck in. What does this have to do with you trespassing in my quarters?”

Spade’s face softened. He set the book down gently. “I had to be sure it was you and not….him,” he finished deliberately.

Him? Yvonne’s hand flew to her mouth. They’d found him? Already?

“He wasn’t discovered,” Spade said hastily, reading her mind. “No one else knows but me.”

Yvonne allowed herself to start breathing again, and sank down on the bed. “How did you know?”

Spade suddenly flushed a brilliant red from his hairline to his collar. “That doesn’t matter. I wanted to make sure you were all right. He said he hadn’t hurt you, and I….I guess I didn’t believe him.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” Yvonne confirmed, wondering what could have happened to make Spade blush like that, but deciding to leave it alone for the moment. “He came here last night. He’d managed to get inside, even said it was easy.”

“I’d love to see Cavitt’s face if he heard that,” Spade muttered.

“But he said getting close to the other one was hard. We both know how heavily he’s guarded. Last night he pulled the same trick you used the night we first saw them, posing as a soldier and showing up early for duty so he could talk to his friend.”

“He shouldn’t do that. Everyone knows that’s the ruse they used the last time.”

“I told him that,” Yvonne said hastily, “and he knows he can’t keep doing that. That’s why he wanted to pose as me. I have direct access to his friend.”

“If his cover is blown, do you know what they’ll do to you?”

“We went over all that,” Yvonne said patiently. “I’ll deny any knowledge of it at all, and they’ll just do a blood test to confirm I’m human. There's no reason for them to suspect I allowed him to impersonate me."

“But you’re a nurse!” Spade protested, plopping down on the bed beside her. “How could he know everything you know as a nurse?”

“We’ll only do it for short periods," Yvonne assured him. “We’ll have to be careful to avoid times when he'd need specific medical knowledge, such as when I’m on duty in the infirmary, but that won't be difficult—he wants to see the other one, so he’ll only be taking my place when I’m scheduled to be with the prisoner. We’ll go slowly,” she added gently, seeing the alarm on Spade’s face. “We’ll figure it out.”

Spade shook his head. “I don’t like it. It’s too risky.”

Yvonne sighed. “Stephen, we have to do something. I don’t know about you, but I have no intention of staying here indefinitely. If the alien escapes, they have no reason to keep us here. They’ll have to reassign us.”

Spade raised his eyes to hers, saying nothing. “They will let us go if there’s no alien to study, won’t they?” Yvonne asked, a chill going through her. “They can’t kill this many people and get away with it….can they?”

“I don’t know what they’d do with us,” Spade said slowly. “It’s hard to believe they’d be able to get rid of that many people, but it’s also hard to believe they’d let that many people just wander off to other assignments, knowing what they know. Controlling that much information out there would be difficult. I could see somebody taking the easy way out.”

“How?” Yvonne said, a bit more shrilly than she had intended. “How would they pull off a mass execution like that?”

"It wouldn't be easy," Spade admitted, "and it wouldn't necessarily happen here. We know that Cavitt’s reach extends beyond the base because that reporter is dead. He’s killing civilians, Yvonne—or somebody is. Somebody wants this kept quiet badly enough that they’re willing to commit murder on both sides of the green line. That doesn’t bode well for the rest of us.”

Yvonne pulled her sweater tighter around her. She hadn’t considered this possibility. She'd been convinced that freedom for the captured alien meant her freedom as well.

“I don’t get it, Stephen. You tried to keep the second alien from being captured. You ordered everyone to hold their fire so the first one could escape. You want to help them too…but why, if you think we might not survive anyway?”

Spade was silent for a moment, staring at his hands. When he spoke, his tone of quiet finality was chilling.

“I’m a marked man, Yvonne. I know that. I know the only way I’ll probably leave here is feet first. I’m still on record calling Cavitt a liar about the alien who surrendered. Everyone else who had direct contact with the aliens before their capture is dead. Everyone but me. And you.”

“So what you’re saying is, I’m marked too,” Yvonne whispered.

“Maybe not,” Spade said. "They think you only had contact with dead aliens before, remember? I'm in trouble anyway, so it doesn't matter what I do, but you still have a chance. I want to help the aliens escape, but I never intended to involve you. Now you’re involved. Directly involved,” he added, his voice growing husky. “And that scares me.”

“How ‘involved’ I am is my decision,” Yvonne said gently. “I agree this is frightening, but do you know what frightens me more? Sitting here like a good little prisoner, doing nothing. Capitulating. Giving in. Giving up. Just sitting around and waiting for them to get me in my sleep like they did the other two.”

Spade sighed resignedly. “So I can’t talk you out of this?”

Yvonne shook her head firmly. “I’m the closest to the prisoner. I’m in the best position to help.”

Spade looked at her a moment, then slowly stood up and headed for the door. He turned before he opened it.

“You’re sure I can’t talk you out of this?”

“You should get back before they miss you,” Yvonne said softly. She paused. “You never told me how you knew it wasn’t me.”

“Not going to, either,” Spade said with a small smile. He leaned in closer, his face near hers . “You be careful.”

“I will,” Yvonne promised.

The room plunged into darkness as Spade hit the light switch. Yvonne watched for the shaft of light as the door opened, preparing to back up so no one would see her. But the door didn’t open right away.

"I was just thinking," Spade said slowly, his voice floating out of the darkness right next to her ear, "that from now on, whenever I see you......I'll never know if it's really you."




******************************************************




1245 hours




<Would you just look at them,> Jaddo said irritably. <They act like they’ve never watched anyone eat before.>

Brivari shifted his eyes hard left to look at the half dozen or so people standing in the observation room, their noses all but pressed to the window pane in anticipation.

<They’re not watching anyone eat,> he reminded Jaddo. <You haven’t started eating yet.>

<Neither have you.>

<You first.>

Jaddo was still strapped in the hospital bed, which had been raised to a sitting position for the occasion of the midday meal. Brivari, in the female healer’s form, was seated in a chair beside the bed, a tray of food in his lap, eyeing his companion critically. Jaddo was uninjured, but very weak. It would take some time to regain his strength.

Jaddo gave a dramatic mental sigh, and picked up a utensil. <Pray tell why can I expect this ridiculous scenario to be played out three times a day?>

<They have asked the female healer to take meals with you, Jaddo> Brivari said, a touch of amusement in his voice. <They seem to think you like her.>

<And is she aware of this assignment?> Jaddo grumbled, fumbling with a piece of food on his tray.

<She is. Don’t bite that. You have to peel it first.> Brivari took the long yellow fruit out of Jaddo’s hands and showed him how to peel the skin off in long strips.

<What is this, anyway?> Jaddo asked, staring at the mushy insides.

<It’s called a ‘banana’. A type of fruit, I believe. I observed soldiers eating these earlier. As I was saying, I explained the situation to the Healer. She actually seemed pleased.>

<Oh, really?> Jaddo asked sarcastically.

<Yes, really,> Brivari said dryly. <It was an honest mistake, I’m sure. She doesn’t yet know what charming company you make.>

Jaddo glared at him and took a bite of the mushy fruit as Brivari sighed. <Don’t take it out on the Healer; it’s not her fault you’re here. She’s a prisoner here too, and no happier about being here than you are. You could do a lot worse,> he added, with a glance at the observation room window. <You could be eating with one of them.>

<The Healer is not disagreeable,> Jaddo grudged, chewing. <Just timid. She reminds me of a frightened animal.>

<Then it will be your job to calm her fears,> Brivari said firmly. <I need access to you, Jaddo. This is the best way to obtain it. Behave yourself. Don’t upset her.>

<Whatever gave them the ridiculous notion that I liked her?>

<From their perspective, it was she who ended your ‘hunger strike’, as they call it.>

<Hmph,> Jaddo said, swirling a utensil around a bowl of glistening, yellowish stuff. <Little did they know it was only you, threatening to take great pleasure in watching what they were planning to do to me.>

<I spent far more time reminding you of your duty.>

<One cannot perform one’s duty when one is dead.>

<You’re not dead yet!> Brivari snapped. <And we have no idea if that will be the result of this situation. Unless and until you are, you will serve your Ward! Is that clear?>

Jaddo turned exasperated eyes on Brivari’s borrowed form. <I fail to see how eating this glop could be construed as ‘serving my Ward’.>

<As you have already so helpfully pointed out, you cannot serve if you are dead,> Brivari said coldly. <It is your duty to keep yourself alive in any way possible so that you may escape. It is my duty to use any means at my disposal to help you escape. And stop glaring at me like that. If they think the Healer is making you unhappy, they might end this arrangement, and that would severely curtail my access to you.>

<Aren’t you supposed to be eating too?>

Brivari realized with a start that he had completely forgotten the tray he had filled up in the aptly named “mess hall” only minutes earlier. He picked up a utensil. <What is this red stuff the food preparer put all over my food?> he grumbled.

<Malik told me humans love the red stuff,> Jaddo said. <Go ask him.>

The two ate in silence for a moment. <He did try to warn you,> Brivari noted. <Perhaps time on Khivar’s payroll has rendered him a bit more flexible.>

<Have you seen them?>

<No,> Brivari said. <But they’ll be back. It’s only a matter of time.>

<And this drug you say they are using to stifle my powers?>

<It will take some time to figure out how to keep it out of your system long enough to make a difference. You’re going to have to keep them busy while I sort it all out.>

Jaddo looked at him blankly. <Busy?>

<Yes, ‘busy’. A high-ranking officer is coming tomorrow to see you. I understand he will decide the fate of this ‘operation’, as they call it. I need you to make him happy.>

<By doing what, exactly?>

Brivari leaned forward. <Listen to me, Jaddo. If this officer does not believe the ones currently in charge are being successful at their task of extracting information from you, you may be moved. Moved away from your Ward, away from the allies we have carefully cultivated here, away from the allies we have on this base right now. I need you to stay here. I need you to do anything, say anything, that will keep this officer content to leave things as they are.>

<Why don’t I just translate our database for them?> Jaddo said, his eyes knife points.

<Oh, for heaven’s sake!> Brivari snapped. <I know you’re not this thick! Of course you won’t tell them anything of value! Tell them something of no value, like the color of our sun, or what you like for breakfast. They know next to nothing about us, so any information at all should be enough to convince them they’re getting somewhere. I need time! I will work as fast as I can, but you will need to hold up your end of things too.>

The pair were silent for several moments, each eating and casting sour glances in each other’s direction. The assembled throng in the observation room pressed right up against the glass, no doubt wondering why they both looked so ill-tempered.

<How do you plan to go about locating the serum?> Jaddo asked after a few minutes silence.

<Hopefully, Spade will be of some assistance.>

<Spade? You shouldn’t trust him. He betrayed us.>

<He had a reason, and has since recanted,> Brivari said, reaching for his glass. <I will be paying him a visit later tonight. I want to know what he saw the night you were captured.> He took a sip and grimaced. <What is it with humans and gas in their beverages?>

<Mine is the same,> Jaddo said, pushing his glass away with disdain. Then his expression changed. <Be careful, Brivari. I don’t want you to wind up here too. Humans are not to be trusted.>

Brivari set his glass down with a thud. <Strange words from someone who brought humans to the pod chamber.>

<I told you, they had earned it,> Jaddo replied, not looking at him. <All of them.>

<Is that why you asked them to disperse Urza’s dust? Because they had 'earned' it?>

Jaddo sat back in the bed and gave Brivari a level stare. <No. I did so because I did not know whether you were alive or dead, and because I did not know whether I would wind up alive or dead in my attempt to rescue you. But now that you mention it, you’re right. Given what you originally planned to do with Urza’s dust, the child was the better choice to perform the rite.>

Brivari’s borrowed face flushed. He rose from his seat, tray in hand, and marched out of the room, the guards scrambling aside to let him pass.

<Oh dear,> Jaddo said ironically as he watched Brivari leave. <I do seem to have upset her.>




******************************************************




“What just happened?” Cavitt demanded, as Lieutenant White stalked out of the room below. “What was in the glass?”

“Relatively flat ginger ale, sir,” a tech replied nervously. “All the food on the prisoner's tray is standard for someone who hasn't had any solid food for some time, like the ginger ale, applesauce, bananas, toast.....”

“It wasn’t the drink that made her leave,” Pierce mused. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say they'd quarreled."

“Quarreled? They weren’t even speaking to each other! Find her,” Cavitt ordered the nearest technician. “I want to know why she left early. The rest of you are dismissed.”

The techs scurried out. Cavitt turned back to Pierce, who was still standing by the window, arms crossed, watching the alien eat. “What are we going to do? We have basically nothing to present to the General tomorrow except smoke and mirrors.”

“ ‘Nothing’, Sheridan?” Pierce queried, still watching the alien. “Nothing at all? The General hasn’t set foot in this place. You have an alien ship in the hangar, still basically intact, not to mention crates of artifacts. We have photographs from the autopsies of the two aliens that died, and more photographs of the one that escaped. We have a living, breathing alien who, despite its outward human appearance is anything but, as evidenced by various x-rays and blood tests. We’ve demonstrated our ability to suppress its powers enough to hold it captive, plus we have a demonstrated response to one of our personnel. I would hardly say we have ‘nothing’ to present.”

“You know as well as I do that the line of others who want a piece of this action would probably stretch around the globe,” Cavitt fretted, “and no, I’m not exaggerating. If we don’t come up with something soon….”

“I am well aware of the competition,” Pierce said dismissively. “We have enough to keep it here. That’s all we need right now.”

“It still hasn’t uttered a peep,” Cavitt said, worry creasing his forehead, “and we still have no idea where it’s from or what it’s doing here. Those are the key questions the General will want answered.”

“And he shall have his answers,” Pierce said, sitting down on the window ledge. “Eventually. What we already have, plus our proposal, is more than enough to placate the General for the moment.”

“That ‘proposal’ is nothing more than a theory,” Cavitt complained. “I’m already starting to doubt my sanity in agreeing to it in the first place.”

“Ah, but you did agree,” Pierce noted, “for the same reason Ramey will agree. The prospect of success is just too enticing.”

“Just exactly what is the prospect of success?” Cavitt demanded.

“Good enough to pursue it,” Pierce answered impatiently. “Look, there is still much work to be done before we can begin trials. Data will have to be collected and lab work done. I’ve already ordered weekly blood tests for all personnel to see if there are any observable changes from exposure to these creatures, so much of the lab work will be invisible. We’ll get there....but it will take time.”

“How long?” demanded Cavitt.

“As long as it takes,” Pierce said testily. “These are natural processes, Sheridan. You can’t rush them. Rummage around in that attic of yours and find the door marked ‘patience’. It’s probably rusted shut from years of disuse, so get a crowbar and crank it open. You’re going to need it.”

“It is not my patience you need to court,” Cavitt pointed out, “but the General’s.”

“The General won’t be a problem,” Pierce said, smiling at the alien below. “When he hears what I—we—have in mind, he’ll be willing to give us all the time we need."



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I'll post Chapter 16 next Sunday. :)
BRIVARI: "In our language, the root of the word 'Covari' means 'hidden'. I'm always there, Your Highness, even if you don't see me."
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Kathy W
Obsessed Roswellian
Posts: 690
Joined: Thu Oct 31, 2002 5:06 am

Post by Kathy W »

Hello to everyone reading! :)

Misha: Sorry you're spitting your food out. ;) :mrgreen:

Brivari is going to have to watch himself--that comes up in this next chapter, along with what he says about what happened with Stephen. ;)

As to what Pierce is up to that has Cavitt actually willing to go along, that will come out over time. It's going to take Pierce awhile to gather the information he needs to even begin trying what he has in mind, and there will be a period of trial and error after that. (I've got three years to play with here. :mrgreen: ) Some people have already guessed what's going on; I know you don't like spoilers, but if you want the beans spilled for this one, say the word and I'll let you know in an e-mail.





CHAPTER SIXTEEN



July 19, 1947, 4:30 p.m.

Corona, New Mexico





“Tell me this isn’t going to be a regular thing,” Emily Proctor said, as the family car headed down the main street of town toward home. “A church picnic today, and you promised him we’d be at Mass tomorrow? That’s enough church to last me the rest of the summer.”

“I thought we owed Father O’Neill,” David said a little defensively. “He did just do us an enormous favor.”

“You mean he did Brivari an enormous favor,” Emily corrected.

David shook his head. “Us too. He kept his mouth shut, Em. An awful lot of people wouldn’t have done that.”

“I’ll grant you that,” Emily said wryly. In her experience, one of the things Catholic priests did not do well was keep their mouths shut about anything. “But that still doesn’t explain why we had to stay late and help clean up.”

“I didn’t mind,” Dee piped up from the back seat. “I had fun. At the picnic, that is. Mass is boring. Why couldn’t we just go to the picnic? Doesn’t God go to picnics?”

David shot a look at Emily, who smiled. “I don’t know,” she said, twisting in her seat to look at her daughter. “What do you think?”

“I think He’d rather go to the picnic,” Dee said seriously. Her gaze drifted out the window. “Where is everyone going?”

A long stream of cars was heading east, out of town. Traffic was backed up at the light just ahead, a rare occurrence in Corona. The only time Corona saw bumper-to-bumper traffic was during parades.

“What the devil is going on?” David muttered. “Are those tourists?”

“Nope,” said Emily, who saw a number of people she knew sitting in the traffic jam. “There’s Bill Chambers,” she added, pointing to a figure standing outside Chambers Grocery Store. “Maybe he knows what’s up.”

David pulled the car over to the curb beside Bill. “Afternoon, Bill," Emily called. "Where’s everyone headed? Don’t tell me another spaceship landed.”

“In a way, I guess one did,” Bill answered, leaning over to peer into the car. “Afternoon, David. Dee.”

“What do you mean, ‘one did’?” Emily asked suspiciously.

Bill Chambers’s eyes fastened on Dee’s face. “I mean the Army’s opened up Pohlman Ranch. You can go up there now.”



******************************************************




"That must have been some weather balloon," Emily murmured, a tinge of sarcasm in her voice as they walked through the throngs of people fanning out over the ranch.

"Mmm hmm," David agreed.

“So where was it?”

“Over there,” David said with a slight nod, not wanting to point. “At the base of that rise up ahead.”

"Think it'll work?" Emily asked, "them letting people out here to dispel the myth?"

"Nope," David said, shaking his head firmly. "Too many people saw it....or saw something connected with it. I'm afraid that myth is around for a long time to come."

Dee trailed behind her parents, scarcely able to believe her eyes. Practically the whole town was up here along with a generous helping of tourists, wandering, poking, staring at…..nothing. There was nothing here. No ship. No metal pieces. Nothing. Just lots of tire tracks and fresh dirt that squished under her feet as she walked. It looked like half the pasture had been dug up, as if someone had been trying to plant an enormous garden.

Dee trudged toward the rise against which the ship had rested, half-heartedly nodding to the people she knew and ignoring the strangers. She saw several kids from her block off in the distance, including Rachel, Peter, Mary Laura, Anthony.....and Ernie Hutton, who seemed to have whipped up yet another game of “Capture the Alien”. Disgusted, she walked faster until she reached the little hill and began to climb it as she had done so many times before.

There was nothing to see from the top but tons of fresh earth, dumped there no doubt to cover the imprint of the ship, and dozens of people milling around, completely unaware that they were standing right where the ship had been. The Army had clearly gone to great pains to dump dirt over a wide area, so this particular spot didn’t look much different from any other. Even standing here now, knowing exactly where the ship had been, it was hard to picture it.

Dee sat down on the grass, crossing her legs in front of her. What were Brivari and Jaddo going to do now that the Army had their ship? How would they get home? Would they have to use that round radio thing Jaddo had to call home for another ship? Granted, they’d be here for many years, but eventually they’d have to leave. At the very least, the King and his family would be going back. How would they do that without a ship?

Footsteps pounded up the hillside in front of her, and Peter sprang over the edge of the rise, yelling, “You can’t catch me!”, missing Dee by inches. Ernie Hutton followed in hot pursuit, hands clasped together like a gun, hollering, “I got me an alien! I got me an alien!” He paused for a moment, pointing his “gun” straight at Dee. “Bang!” he announced dramatically. “I got me an alien!”

“Get lost, Ernie,” Dee snapped. <Idiot,> she muttered silently, as Ernie scowled and slunk away.

<Friend of yours?>

The familiar voice came from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. It was maddeningly difficult to locate the source of telepathic speech. The aliens seemed to be able to do it, but she hadn’t gotten the knack of it yet.

<Hardly,> she answered. <He’s a neighbor. I put up with him because I have to.>

There was a bit of a smile in the answering voice. <I assure you that people on every world have lists of those they put up with because they have to.>

The crowd shifted, revealing Brivari alone amongst a sea of humans. An alien who looked human surrounded by humans looking for an alien. If there was a God, she was willing to bet He was shaking his head at the irony. Or better yet, laughing at it.

<They took your ship.>

<It doesn’t matter. It was too damaged to fly again anyway.>

<But how will the King get home?>

<We have another way to get home.>

Brivari had been walking toward her as they spoke, and now he climbed the hill and sat down beside her, copying her sitting position.

<You can hear me,> Dee observed, rather unnecessarily.

<I noticed.> He paused. <How long have we been here?>

Dee thought for a moment. <Two and a half weeks. Almost three. Why?>

<I was just wondering how long it took you to become proficient in both hearing and speaking telepathic speech.>

<Does it matter?>

<Not really. Just curious.>

They sat in silence for awhile, watching the disappointed townsfolk wandering by, unhappy because there was nothing to look at. Here and there, little knots of people gathered to discuss what they hadn’t found as Dee sat quietly beside what they were looking for.

<How is Jaddo?>

<Ill-tempered, argumentative, and thoroughly miserable,> Brivari said casually.

<So he’s back to normal,> Dee said.

<Daddy said they haven't hurt him.>

<No, they have not.>

<Can you get him out?>

<Eventually. It’s going to take awhile.>

<Are you going to live with us?>

<If your mother will let me, I'd like that,> Brivari said, as Dee smiled. He had correctly identified the parent who would make that decision.

<Are you still mad about what we did with Urza’s dust?>

Brivari was silent so long Dee began to think he wasn’t going to answer her. <Who disposed of it?> he finally asked.

<We didn’t ‘dispose of it’,> Dee said with a touch of asperity. <You were the one who was going to dump it, remember?>

More silence. <I was angry,> he said at length.

<I did it, right outside the cave, right where Jaddo told us to,> Dee continued. <And I made sure every bit of it flew with the wind.>

<I thought Jaddo asked your mother to do it?>

<I wanted to do it, so Mama let me. Urza was my friend, not hers.>

Dee glanced sideways to see how he was taking this. Brivari was staring off into space, unseeing, his face set.

<Are you mad at me now?> Dee asked, fully prepared to get mad right back if he said yes.

Brivari dropped his eyes to the ground in front of him. <No. You and your parents only did what was asked of you.> He paused. <Urza would have been pleased.>

Yes, he would have, Dee thought with satisfaction, glad that Brivari had come to his senses. <Can I ask you something?>

<Would it make a difference if I said ‘no’?>

There was just enough amusement in the tone that Dee chose to ignore this remark. <Jaddo said the dust had to fly with the wind because that was the only way you could be free. Is that right?>

<Yes.>

<That sounds awful,> Dee said bluntly. <Why would you even want to go back there if life is so bad that the only time you can be free is when you die?>

<It is a very old rite, begun hundreds of years ago, long before the current King’s father made life better for us.>

<If life got better, why do you still do it?>

<Because it is important to remember. What has happened once could happen again. Is happening again.>

<What did they do to you? Why was life so bad?>

<When you can make yourself look different anytime you want, no one trusts you. They can never be sure you are who you look like.>

<So, what did they do?>

<Suffice it to say we frightened people,> Brivari said evasively. <We still do. Your 'neighbor' is creeping up the hill toward us.>

<What?>

Hands clasped in the shape of a gun appeared over the edge of the rise, followed by Ernie Hutton’s face. “Gotcha!” he announced, his “gun” pointed straight at Brivari, whose eyebrows had traveled skyward.

Ernie had apparently been expecting to find Dee in front of him instead of some strange man wearing a rather dangerous expression. Never the brightest bulb in the box, he held his post for a full five seconds before deflating, only to re-inflate seconds later and swing his “weapon” toward Dee, inches from her face.

“Bang! You’re dead!” he announced dramatically.

Dee snorted. “You don't learn, do you?” she said severely. “Don't you remember what happened the last time you did this?”

His nose still faintly black and blue from the Dee’s well-placed punch last week, Ernie wavered momentarily and backed up, only to find that distance made him bolder.

“You wouldn’t dare hit me again,” he taunted, his feet tantalizingly close to the edge of the rise.

“Don’t bet on it,” Dee said darkly.

“Come get me then,” Ernie teased, still keeping a respectable distance. “Bet you can’t catch me!”

“I don’t have to,” Dee said pleasantly, and lunged forward.

She never reached Ernie. She hadn’t intended to. But Ernie didn’t know that and hastily backed up, only to find himself stumbling and tumbling down the side of the hill to a chorus of laughter from nearby children. Dee leaned over the edge of the rise and watched with interest as Ernie finally reached the bottom and picked himself up, glowering.

“I’m telling, Proctor!”

“Telling what?” Dee called down innocently. “I never laid a hand on you.”

More laughter. Dee saw Mary Laura in the crowd with her hand over her mouth, Anthony suppressing a smile, and Peter chuckling openly. Ernie was usually merely annoying, but there were times when he seemed to have the same career goals as Denny Miltnor. Maybe they should see to it that he fell down a few more hills.

Ernie, who had started to walk away, paused when he heard the laughter. Face flushed with embarrassment, he headed back up the hill toward Dee.

“I’m gonna make you pay for that!”

Dee’s fists clenched. As if it wasn’t bad enough to sit here where two of her friends had died, now she had this nitwit to deal with. “I’d like to see you try,” she answered furiously, climbing to her feet. Children crept closer, lured by the prospect of a fight. The situation had not yet registered on the radar of the adults nearby, although that would change once fists started flying.

A flicker of movement caught Dee’s eye. Brivari fingers flipped outward, and suddenly Ernie slipped. There wasn’t much in the way of loose dirt on the hill, but somehow he slipped to his knees.

<You do seem to get yourself into situations like this, don’t you?> Brivari said wearily.

<You don’t have to do that,> she answered crossly. <I can take him.>

<I’m sure you can. The real question is, would it be wise to do so?>

Ernie had picked himself up and was climbing again, madder than ever. Flick! went Brivari’s fingers. Down went Ernie.

<He has it coming!> Dee protested. <He’s an idiot!>

<He’s a child,> Brivari corrected, <and he’s acting like a child. Incidentally, so are you. But does he really merit a public brawl?>

Gamely trying again, Ernie advanced more slowly this time, leaning forward to place his hands on the hill as he climbed. Flick! This time he landed on his stomach and slid most of the way back down. Children standing nearby tittered.

<You keep trying to tell me what is and isn’t my fight!> Dee stormed at Brivari. <This is definitely my fight! It’s none of your business!>

<I seem to recall that argument failing when I used it on you,> Brivari said dryly.

Ernie had risen to his feet again and was apparently trying to decide if another attempt was worth the effort.

<Pick your battles carefully,> Brivari continued. <You can’t right every wrong or reform every ‘idiot’ you meet. Save it for the things that really matter. This one doesn’t.>

<Did you know you can be really annoying sometimes?> Dee fumed.

Brivari smiled slightly. <I do seem to recall a few people mentioning that.>

<Did you drive your King this crazy?>

<Absolutely,> Brivari said casually. <At the moment, you remind me of him. He didn’t use his fists, but he didn’t always pick his battles carefully either. You could stand to learn from his mistakes.>

With a snort of exasperation, Dee marched off, leaving Ernie below pondering whether to follow her. Apparently deciding against it, he slunk off through the crowd in the opposite direction, filthy and scowling.

The excitement over, the children nearby drifted away. All but one. Unlike the others, Anthony Evans had not been watching Ernie Hutton’s aborted trek to the top of the hill. Instead, he’d been watching the stranger sitting beside Dee, and he continued to watch him long after she had left.




******************************************************



1730 hours

Eagle Rock Military Base





Yvonne White steadied the heavy tray in front of her as she waited for the soldier to unlock the prisoner’s door. Two trays actually, stacked one on top of another, with dinner for two piled on the top tray. Dinner with an alien; it sounded like some wacky radio contest. A few weeks ago she would have thought it was just that; now, however, it was her reality.

The door swung open, and Yvonne entered the room, feeling all eyes in the observation room trained on her. She felt a tingle of excitement, a deep-seated sense of satisfaction. I’ve got a secret, she thought, glancing at Major Cavitt in the upstairs window. The alien was still a prisoner, she was still a prisoner, but she no longer felt so helpless and angry. Now she was doing something to undermine this whole situation and she found that exhilarating, despite the inherent danger. Stephen’s worries aside, it was amazing what a little rebellion could do for one’s morale. Okay, she argued with herself, a lot of rebellion. Voluntarily letting someone else pose as yourself most likely qualified as a lot of rebellion.

The free alien—she still didn’t know his name—had returned about two hours later than expected, and had filled her in completely on what had transpired when he was posing as her. He had impressed upon her the importance of keeping each other informed; with the two of them changing places as they were, it was imperative they each know what had happened when the other was out and about. In some ways it was bizarre having someone else living part of her life, interacting with people who thought he was her.

On the other hand, it could also be amusing. Yvonne had found herself smiling at the account of what “she” had said to Cavitt about him not being much to look at. As often as she had stood up to him, it had usually not been in public; she didn’t quite have the guts for that. The alien, of course, had no such reservations, and she had felt obliged to point out that he'd best not get her into so much trouble that she wasn’t able to get out of it.

"If you're going to be me, you have to sound like me," she'd reminded him. "And I don't sound like that....not very often, anyway."

"Your Lieutenant Spade expressed similar concerns," the alien had admitted.

"Speaking of Lieutenant Spade, how did he find out it was you and not me? He wouldn't tell me."

"Wouldn't he, now? I am not surprised. Perhaps I was enjoying myself a bit too much with Cavitt," he had continued, dropping the subject of how Stephen had discovered his identity every bit as quickly as Stephen had. "Your Dr. Pierce advised caution as well. I will curb my enjoyment in the future," he said resignedly, as though relinquishing a much loved pastime. "Pierce will think you took his advice, which should keep him happy."

"You still haven't told me what happened with Stephen," Yvonne had reminded him.

"Nor will I," the alien had answered, the hint of a smile in his voice, if not on his face. "I have many faults, but indiscretion isn't one of them."

"I thought we were supposed to spill everything that happened when we switch?" Yvonne had said, more curious than ever now.

"That particular detail is irrelevant," the alien had announced, in a tone that made it clear he wouldn't discuss it further. Yvonne had decided to drop the matter....but only for the moment. She could always pursue the question later. Unfortunately, she wasn't going anywhere.

She had received the news that she was now expected to “befriend” the captured alien with mixed emotions. On the one hand, her new assignment was a welcome respite from all the medical testing she'd been engaged in, as well as being right up her alley. As a nurse she frequently found herself advocating for patients with doctors, CO’s, and family members, to name a few. She had already been acting as an advocate for the aliens; now the position was formal, and that would silence a specific fear of Stephen’s: That her defense of the aliens would mark her as a sympathizer. Now she would be able to pass off such defense as part of her job, at least to a certain extent.

But her initial enthusiasm had been dampened a bit by the free alien’s cautions about the prisoner. “He is a very difficult person to deal with, even under the best of circumstances,” he had said, in the tone of one who knew this from personal experience. “Needless to say, these are not the best of circumstances. I will apologize in advance for his rudeness. He won’t be pleasant company.”

The alien had gone on to admit that he and his colleague had quarreled during "her" first meal with the prisoner, and the subsequent questions this prompted from Major Cavitt. Yvonne had listened to many, many, private details of people’s lives, yet she still found such listening awkward at times. It was obviously awkward for the alien to relate the experience, even though he hadn't divulged what they had been arguing about. She understood that she had to know what had happened in case she was questioned about it later—he was, after all, posing as her—but that did little to ease her discomfort. It occurred to her that she, too, would need to relate everything that had happened to her, and that might prove difficult. She and the alien were going to learn a great deal more about each other than perhaps each wanted to know.

Still, as dinner time drew near, Yvonne found herself less and less bothered by the alien’s description of his grumpy colleague. She had dealt with all sorts, from civilians to Privates to Major Generals, and she had yet to meet a nut she couldn’t crack. She had headed to the mess hall to collect the food, spending a full five minutes arguing with Dr. Pierce for the pot of coffee on the tray in her hands, and feeling enormously satisfied when she won. Now she stood in the doorway, confident that the prisoner couldn’t be all that bad now that his companion had filled him in on what was happening.

The door closed behind her, two soldiers armed with the requisite tranquilizer rifles taking up positions on either side of it. The alien was still strapped to the bed, silent, staring at the wall.

“Good evening,” Yvonne said pleasantly when she reached the bed. “I have your dinner. Our dinners, actually.”

The alien didn’t move, or give any indication that he had heard her. Was he asleep? Yvonne walked around the bed to stand on the opposite side. No, he was most definitely awake.

She tried again. “I brought you some coffee,” she said, indicating the pot on the tray with a nod. “I heard….I thought you might prefer that,” she amended quickly, silently chastising herself for stumbling over the truth. She was going to have to be very, very careful about how she phrased things. Just one more thing to remember about her strange new existence.

Still no response from the alien. Yvonne stood there a moment, nonplussed. Why was he ignoring her? He had known she would be coming, and he must know it was her, not his colleague; the free alien had explained how those of his kind could identify each other on sight, although he hadn’t explained how.

“Well,” she said after a moment. “I’ll just set up the meal.”

She set the tray down on the wheeled bed table and cranked the bed into a sitting position. He continued to ignore her, not betraying any sign at all that he knew she was there. Mystified, she separated the two trays and began dividing up the food.

“The other one did tell you I was coming, didn’t he?” she said under her breath so the soldiers couldn’t hear her.

No response. Yvonne finished divvying up the food and pushed the bed table closer to the alien, wondering if perhaps he had reinstated his hunger strike. Was that why he was acting like this?

A moment later she had her answer. As soon as the bed table was within range of the play on the straps around his wrists, the alien promptly picked up a spoon and began eating. He still didn’t look at her and he ate mechanically, as though obeying an order he didn’t wish to obey....but he ate nonetheless.

So, Yvonne thought grimly, this is how it’s going to be. All she had gone through on their behalf apparently didn’t even merit acknowledgement of her existence.

The alien reached for the coffee pot. The coffee she had been told he liked. The coffee she had wrangled out of Dr. Pierce. The pot hovered over the cup, tipping, tipping. And suddenly, Yvonne snapped.

Snatching the coffee cup, Yvonne threw it against the wall where it shattered into a half dozen pieces with a spectacular crash. The alien’s eyes jerked upward in surprise, looking at her for the first time. Yvonne heard the soldiers raise their weapons, sensed the tension from the observation room above her. She kept her eyes locked on the alien’s, willing herself not to blink.

“So. You do know I’m here. I guess you’re not completely stupid.”

<What did you do that for?> he demanded.

The voice pounded in her head, angry and surprised. The free alien had tried their “telepathic speech” earlier in the day, and despite the fact that she had heard him last night, this time she had heard nothing. He had explained that it would take time for the previously unused part of her brain responsible for using telepathic speech to become proficient. Now, awash in indignation, she could hear perfectly.

“I see I managed to surprise you,” she said coolly. “Score one for me.”

<I said, what did you do that for?>

“If you think for one minute that you’re just going to sit there and ignore me, think again,” Yvonne said severely.

The alien’s expression hardened, if that were possible. <I do not make a habit of conversing with my captors.>

“I am not your captor, and you know it!” Yvonne snapped, remembering at the last minute to keep her voice low enough so only the tone would carry, although that was difficult given how angry she was. “I’m a prisoner here too, and because of you, I might add. The way I see it, we can either make each other more miserable or less miserable. I vote for less. How about you?”

<I had no idea you could be so violent,> the alien observed, though in a less acerbic tone.

“And I had no idea you could be so rude,” she responded tartly, ignoring for the moment the fact that she had been forewarned. “Now, this is how it works. You are going to behave yourself. You will acknowledge my presence. You will mind your manners. You will remember to speak out loud at least some of the time lest they figure out that you have another means of communicating. You will eat, you will tell them what you safely can, and you will keep them occupied while your friend and I work on getting you out of here. My only way out is if you’re out, and I will not let you screw that up for me. Pull the silent treatment one more time and you’ll be drinking ginger ale from now on. Are we clear? Or do I have to go on breaking crockery?”

Yvonne felt the soldiers still tensed behind her, probably responding to the tone of her diatribe, the only part they could hear. The faces in the observation room were practically smashed against the window, their owners no doubt wondering why she and the alien were angry at each other "again". The alien just stared at her, his eyes narrowing, and for a moment, Yvonne had the sense of being sized up....measured....appraised. It was not a comfortable feeling.

<We are clear,> he said at last. "Now may I have the coffee?" he added out loud.

Yvonne plucked her cup off the second tray and held it out of his reach. “What’s the magic word?”

" ‘Magic word’?" he echoed, looking completely blank. He paused for a moment, staring off into space, then refocused his gaze on her. <The only ‘magic word’ I have in my scans is ‘Abracadabra’.>

Yvonne blinked. Every single time she thought this situation couldn’t get any more bizarre, she was wrong.

“I was referring to the polite way to ask for things in our culture,” she replied. “If you’re not familiar with that, I’ll teach you.”

<Oh,> he said dismissively. <That.> "I believe the word is ‘please’."

“Yes, it is,” Yvonne said, setting the cup down on his tray.

"And that one word makes it all better?" the alien asked with thinly veiled sarcasm.

“No,” Yvonne admitted with a small smile. “But it’s a start.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'll post Chapter 17 next Sunday. :)
Last edited by Kathy W on Sun Jan 30, 2005 3:20 pm, edited 2 times in total.
BRIVARI: "In our language, the root of the word 'Covari' means 'hidden'. I'm always there, Your Highness, even if you don't see me."
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Kathy W
Obsessed Roswellian
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Chapter 17

Post by Kathy W »

Hello everyone! *wave*

imnotlc: Nice to see you here! I think the last time we saw Dee, she was eavesdropping on Brivari and her mother arguing about whether or not the Proctors should have "dispersed" Urza's dust. That's also when Dee first saw symbols fleetingly appear on the cover of the Destiny book. At that point Dee could only hear telepathic speech, not speak it herself, so her ability to speak to Brivari using telepathic speech is new.

Anthony is the new kid on the block who's so interested in space. In Alien Sky he saw the Proctors go after the pods in the middle of the night (although he doesn't realize what they were going after), and he warned Dee the next day when someone (Valenti) was watching them as they were trying to get the pods out of their house. We haven't seen Anthony for awhile, so this marks his return to the story. (Actually, it's only been about a week that we haven't seen him story-wise, but much longer reading-wise.)

I would imagine Anthony was curious when he saw Brivari and Dee together on the ranch because Dee got so obviously angry, and yet neither she nor the man she was with were actually saying anything (that Anthony could hear, that is). Anthony's the quiet type who notices things like that. ;) And as he and Dee will eventually become Max and Isabel's step-grandparents, he'd best get used to seeing strange things. :mrgreen:

Note: For those of you wondering how "Ernie Hutton" magically morphed to "Eddie Hutton" in last week's chapter, chalk it up to my lousy proofreading skills last week. ;) "Ernie" started as "Eddie", and I obviously didn't correct all the "Eddie's". God, I hate it when I make stupid mistakes like that! :lol: *Runs off to fix Chapter 16*






CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


July 20, 1947, 9:42 a.m.

Proctor residence




Anthony Evans cupped his hand around his eyes and peered through the Proctor’s living room window. He was very surprised to find them not home this fine Sunday morning, especially given that Mr. Proctor had specifically suggested Sunday morning as a good time to drop off the item Anthony had tucked under one arm, the item they had discussed the last time Anthony had come to dinner four days ago. He tried the doorbell again just in case someone hadn’t heard. He’d already checked the backyard, and chucked an experimental stone up at Dee’s bedroom window. When there was still no response, he tried the doorknob.

The front door was open. Anthony hesitated for just a moment before slipping inside and closing the door behind him.

The interior of the house was heavy with silence, despite the windows left open in a vain attempt to mitigate the summer heat. Anthony debated for a moment where exactly would be the best place to leave his burden. He didn’t want Dee to see it, so that ruled out public rooms like the living room or the kitchen. He could leave it in Mr. and Mrs. Proctor’s bedroom, but the thought of waltzing into someone’s bedroom uninvited was…uninviting. Besides, there was that not so little matter of temptation. Dee’s bedroom was also upstairs, and he wasn’t entirely sure he had the wherewithal to resist paying it a visit.

Anthony moved to the base of the front stairs, gazing longingly up at the landing. What time was it? He checked the nearby grandfather clock; it was 9:43 a.m., and he really had no idea where the Proctors were. It would be so easy to just slip up the stairs into Dee’s room, and solve the mystery. Find the proof he was aching to find, the proof he was absolutely certain was up there. Because Dee knew something; he wasn’t sure what, exactly, but she had basically admitted she knew something. The fact that the Army had recently reinstated its practice of following Mr. Brazel around, although much more coyly this time, only confirmed this suspicion. The Army obviously thought Mr. Brazel knew something about the aliens.....the Brazels lived right next door to the Proctors, and were good friends with them.....the Proctors had mysteriously driven off in the middle of the night, and someone was watching their house the very next day....Dee had made those cryptic remarks about Jupiter's moons and the aliens being gray. Both the Brazels and the Proctors knew something. It fit.

But Anthony had promised not to ask, and he took his promises very seriously, even if that did mean biting his tongue until he was certain it would fall off. Now, standing so close to what might be the answers to his questions, he wavered. It would be so easy….just slip up there and find out without ever having to ask. No need for her to tell; no need for him to break his promise. He’d just stumble across it by accident while dropping something off for Mr. Proctor. Find out the answer to his question all by himself: Were there really space aliens in Roswell?

The grandfather clock clanged the quarter hour, making Anthony jump and simultaneously knocking some sense into him. What was he thinking? The Proctors could walk through that door at any moment, and if they found him snooping, he’d never be welcome here again. Not to mention the fact he’d lose the one good friend he’d made since moving here. No, it was too risky. Reluctantly, Anthony turned away from the stairs toward the doorway into the kitchen....and froze.

A man stood before him, framed in the kitchen doorway, blocking his path. He looked vaguely familiar. And more than a little vaguely upset.

“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” the man demanded.




******************************************************



0945 hours

Eagle Rock Military Base




“He'll be here any minute now!” squeaked the overeager Private Treyborn to Spade. “A General! Can you believe it, sir? A real General!”

“You were expecting a fake one?” Spade rejoined, smiling as Treyborn stared at him in disbelief. He and Treyborn were standing behind Majors Pierce and Cavitt at the door to the hangar which housed the alien spacecraft, waiting for the arrival of Major General Roger Ramey, the man currently in charge of this operation. This marked Ramey's first visit to Roswell, and Spade could feel Cavitt’s apprehension clouding the air like fog; Pierce, on the other hand, looked cool as a cucumber.

"It's a General, sir!" Treyborn said, still goggling at Spade's blasphemy. "A two-star General! That's so exciting!"

Not next to meeting aliens, it isn't, Spade thought, stifling a yawn. He hadn’t bothered going to bed last night, not wanting to be caught asleep and off guard when his alien visitor arrived, which he had at about 2 a.m. The free alien’s arrival had been silent, catching Spade completely by surprise even though he was sitting bolt upright in a chair waiting for it. That level of stealth was disquieting, to say the least. After he left, Spade had tossed and turned for the rest of the night, sleeping fitfully, if at all. He was currently running on too little sleep and too little coffee.

Nevertheless, Spade had found the exercise of telling the story of the now captive alien’s capture to be therapeutic. He still felt badly that he had failed in his attempt to keep the second alien out of harm’s way, but spending an hour or so going over the event in the great detail the free alien demanded had driven home the point that he had done everything he could. The free alien had asked many questions about the hostile alien, and confirmed a point about which Spade had still been unclear: There were two hostile aliens, something he’d suspected for some time now. While that wasn’t exactly comforting news, it was nice to know he wasn’t merely being paranoid.

Spade was still less than enthusiastic about the concept of the free alien pretending to be Yvonne. He and Yvonne had worked out a signal to identify her when she was herself, but they had agreed to use it only in private or when absolutely necessary. Which meant that every time he passed her in the hall or spied her in the mess, his heart skipped a beat as he wondered who it really was. It was very unnerving to realize you couldn’t trust your own eyes, or even your own intuition—hard as he looked, he simply couldn’t tell the difference. At least he didn’t have to worry about that today. The General’s visit meant far more security than usual, so the free alien had deemed it wise to stay away. Yvonne would really be Yvonne, at least while the General was here.

“I’ve never seen a General,” the enthusiastic Treyborn was saying. “Aren’t you excited, sir?”

“Not really,” Spade answered indifferently. He’d developed a certain antipathy to authority figures. “I figure he pees standing up just like the rest of us.”

Treyborn’s horrified reply was cut short as Major General Roger Ramey, flanked by two Lieutenants, rounded the corner and came to a halt in front of Pierce and Cavitt. Everyone snapped a salute, none faster than Treyborn. Spade could have sworn he heard something crack.

“Welcome, General,” Cavitt beamed, as everyone’s hands lowered. “May I just say how honored we are to….”

“No, you may not,” General Ramey replied pleasantly. “Let’s skip the pontificating and get to the good stuff, shall we? And son?” he added, leaning around Major Pierce toward the bug-eyed Treyborn, still locked in a salute. “At ease. Before you hurt something.”

Treyborn reddened and lowered his hand. Cavitt fell into a flustered silence.

“I must say, it’s a treat to see the two of you standing here side by side and unmaimed,” Ramey continued cheerfully.

“Sir?” Cavitt said quizzically.

“What I mean, Major, is that I would have thought you and Major Pierce would have killed each other by now,” Ramey clarified. “Nice to know you haven’t. Yet.”

Now it was Cavitt’s turn to redden. Pierce raised his eyebrows. Spade mouth twisted as he suppressed a smile. Treyborn's eyes were saucers.

"The Doctor and I have our differences," Cavitt said stiffly, but...."

“Major, I didn’t come all this way to hear tales from the sandbox,” Ramey said. “I want to see the toys. Now.”

Taken aback once again, Cavitt turned and nodded curtly to Spade and Treyborn, who opened the doors and ushered the General inside.

Ramey stood with his mouth open for a full minute before uttering the high command’s first pronouncement on its first personal inspection of the goings on in Roswell.

“Jesus H. Christ!”




******************************************************



Proctor residence



Anthony clutched the catalog to his chest and stared at the man in front of him, thunderstruck. He was fairly young, and dressed in the collared shirt and suspendered work pants common to men everywhere. His face, however, was another matter. That was the face of a school principal collaring a truant, or a policeman nabbing a petty thief. Anthony suddenly felt guilty even though he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“I said who are you and what are you doing here?” the man demanded again.

“I…..I…..I……” Anthony paused as recognition chased away fear. “I remember you,” he finished.

The man’s eyebrows rose. “You remember me?” The tone of his voice gave Anthony the distinct impression that remembering this particular person was perhaps not such a good idea.

“From….from yesterday,” Anthony said hesitantly, hugging the catalog even harder. “You were the one with Dee out on the ranch when Ernie was bugging her.” The one Dee was so mad at even though you weren't talking to each other, he finished silently, keeping that peculiar bit of information to himself for the moment.

The man’s expression became ever so slightly less flinty. “That does not answer my question. Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

“I’m Anthony. I’m a friend of Dee’s. I have something for Mr. Proctor, and he said to bring it by on Sunday morning. But he’s not here,” Anthony finished unnecessarily.

“Obviously. Why were you looking up at the stairs?”

“I wasn’t sure where to leave this,” Anthony answered, slightly annoyed at the man’s commanding tone. “Where are the Proctors? And who are you?”

“I am a relative,” the man answered after a moment, “and the Proctors are attending their place of worship.”

“ ‘Place of’….oh. You mean church?” Anthony asked.

“Yes. Church,” the man replied curtly. “Leave your parcel on the table,” he said, nodding toward the living room. “I will tell them you were here.”

Parcel? “I’d rather not,” Anthony said. “This is about Dee’s birthday present, and I don’t want her to guess what it is.”

“Her birthdate?” The man’s tone had changed.

“Um….yeah. Dee’s birthday,” Anthony said uncertainly. “It’s coming up soon. August 8th.”

“I see.” The man’s tone had definitely changed. He didn’t sound accusing now, merely interested. “And what will be her gift?”

“She wants a telescope,” Anthony said slowly. He still wasn’t sure exactly who this man was, or if he should be discussing Dee’s present with him. “This is a catalog that sells telescopes, and Mr. Proctor wanted to look at them so he could pick one out for her.”

“She wants a telescope?” the man asked. “Why?”

“Well….because she likes to look at the stars,” Anthony said.

“Does she now?” The man’s tone was quiet now, almost wistful.

“We’ve been using my telescope," Anthony continued, bolder now that the man didn't appear to be suspicious of him. "It’s a pretty good one, but it was kind of expensive. I'm not sure Mr. Proctor could afford one like that. I know a little about telescopes, so I told him I’d help him find one.” He paused. “I bet a lot of people will want telescopes now, after…well, after what supposedly happened here,” he finished.

“Indeed,” the man murmured. He held out a hand. “May I see that?”

Wordlessly, Anthony handed him the catalog and watched as the man flipped through it.

“I will assist you in choosing a… ‘telescope’,” the man said abruptly, heading for the living room couch. “Join me.” It was not a request.

“You know about telescopes?” Anthony asked hopefully, padding over to the couch.

The man sat down. “You could say that.”

“Neat!” Anthony said, delighted at the prospect of learning more about one of his favorite hobbies. “Um…are you sure I’m not bothering you?”

This time the man actually smiled slightly. “I am in need of a distraction at the moment, and this will do nicely. Sit,” he said, indicating the spot next to him, “and tell me what you know about telescopes.”




******************************************************



Eagle Rock Military Base



“Amazing,” General Ramey breathed, staring up at the alien spaceship. “Absolutely amazing!”

Standing behind him, Spade had to agree. The ship no longer made his skin crawl like it used to, like it had in the beginning. Now it was beautiful, a gleaming work of art that shone in the sun that managed to stubbornly stream through the covered windows high on the walls near the ceiling.

“Power source?” Ramey was asking Cavitt.

Cavitt’s lip twitched. “We don’t know yet.”

“Weapons?”

“We don’t know yet,” Cavitt repeated.

Ramey looked at Cavitt a moment. “All right, let’s try this from the opposite direction. Why don’t you tell me what you do know.”

“Very little,” Pierce broke in. “Although we have reason to believe they understand our language, the alien hasn’t spoken a word since its capture, so we have learned nothing from it that couldn’t be learned from medical testing.”

“We have conducted tests on the substance the ship is composed of,” Cavitt said hurriedly, indicating the piece of silvery stuff the General had been handed a minute ago. “It has properties of both a solid and a liquid, and has no known counterpart on Earth.”

“I would think not,” Ramey said dryly. “If we had something like this, I would think I’d have been told.”

“Yes. Of course,” Cavitt said stiffly. “As you can see, the material is extremely malleable and durable, although not impossible to damage, as evidenced by the breaches in the hull.”

The General nodded. “Anything else?”

Cavitt opened his mouth, and then closed it. “No, sir. We’ve been spending the lion’s share of our resources studying the aliens themselves.”

“Don’t you mean the alien, Major? You lost one, correct?”

“That was Major Pierce’s fault, sir,” Cavitt said hurriedly, as Pierce’s eyes flashed. “He failed to realize that the creature had regained consciousness and….”

“Oh, come off it Major!” Ramey snapped. “I don’t expect Major Pierce to be fluent in alien biology! I do expect you to be prepared for the consequences that come with the learning curve associated with alien biology. You were supposed to have a plan in place for this eventuality. What happened?”

“Lieutenant Spade happened, sir,” Cavitt said, turning beady eyes on Spade, who glared back at him. “He ordered his men to hold their fire. Not one of them fired, and the alien escaped.”

Ramey spun around, following Cavitt’s gaze and eyeballing Spade’s nametag. “Spade,” he said slowly. “I remember that name. You basically captured all of them, didn’t you?”

“You could put it that way, sir,” Spade responded in a toneless voice.

“So you held fire, did you?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why?” Ramey demanded, stepping forward so they were nose to nose.

“Out of concern for my men, sir. The syringes in our rifles were filled with doses of sedative possibly high enough to kill a man. The alien caused the power to fail, so the lights were out. We couldn’t see who we were shooting.”

Ramey turned to Pierce. “Is this true, what he’s saying about the darts?”

“A man could survive one dart,” Pierce replied. "More than that, and he'd need immediate medical attention."

“So,” Ramey said, turning back to Spade. “You decided, all by yourself, that the risk was too great?”

“Soldiers could have died,” Spade pointed out.

“Soldiers always die,” Ramey observed, his eyes hard.

Spade could feel Treyborn at his right elbow, radiating a fear so intense it should have melted the alien metal. Oddly enough, he didn't share that fear. Only a month ago, a conversation like this with any superior officer, never mind a General, would have turned his knees to jelly. But that was one advantage of knowing you might be a dead man on borrowed time: You stopped caring what other people thought because what difference did it make if they got angry with you? Chances were you weren’t going to be around much longer anyway. Might as well speak your piece. Spade was seized with a sudden affection for his elderly, irascible grandfather, whom he now suddenly understood and would likely never see again.

“We already had one alien,” Spade said firmly, looking the General straight in the eye. “We’ve lost several men already. I didn’t see the point in losing more.”

“Oh, you didn’t, did you?”

“No sir, I didn’t.”

“Did it ever occur to you, Lieutenant, that that wasn’t your decision to make?”

“With all due respect sir, yes it was.”

Spade heard the sound of a collective breath being sucked in. Behind the General, Pierce shook his head regretfully while Cavitt scowled. Treyborn appeared ready to faint. Ramey’s eyebrows rose.

“Explain,” Ramey commanded.

“Major Cavitt placed me in command of the security detail,” Spade answered. “He gave no specific orders concerning a situation such as that we faced that evening, so it fell to me, the one placed in command, to make that decision. If the Major feels I acted improperly, he is always free to remove my command.”

One could have heard a pin drop in the ensuing silence. Ramey continued to stare at Spade, and Spade held his gaze, willing himself not to blink. After what seemed like an eternity but was probably only about a minute, the General relaxed his expression and stepped back.

“I respect a man who stands by his decisions, even if I do disagree with them,” Ramey said, nodding approvingly. “I also respect a man who takes responsibility for his actions instead of blaming everyone around him,” he added, with a pointed look at a scarlet Major Cavitt. “At any rate, what’s done is done. Now,” Ramey said, nodding to Spade and the terrified Treyborn, “I think it’s time I saw this monster for myself.”



******************************************************



Proctor residence



“Not that one,” Anthony protested, shaking his head at the telescope the Proctor’s relative was pointing to. “It’s way too small. Dee won’t be able to see much of anything with that.”

“Why does its size concern you?”

“The bigger the lenses, the more light it can gather and the more you can see," Anthony replied. "I don’t know everything about telescopes, but I do know that much.”

The man looked thoughtful. “Yes, I can see why you would think that.”

“I don’t just ‘think that’—it’s true,” Anthony said with a touch of impatience. “I thought you said you knew something about telescopes?”

“What exactly happened with the child called ‘Ernie’?” the man asked, suddenly changing the subject.

“Ernie’s an idiot,” Anthony said offhandedly.

“So I hear. He said something about being struck?”

“Yup. Dee punched him in the nose.”

“She did? Why?”

“Ernie made up this game he calls 'Capture the Alien'. He picks someone to be the alien, and then everyone runs around trying to shoot it. He made Dee be the alien even though she didn’t want to play, and he kept pretending to shoot her. She finally got tired of it and popped him. And I don’t blame her,” Anthony added. “Some people just don’t get it until you pop them.”

“Most definitely,” the man agreed. Anthony stared at him, surprised. Most grown-ups he knew would have objected to any kind of assertion that sometimes it was necessary to pop someone.

“I don’t even know why Ernie keeps playing that stupid game,” Anthony went on. “He says he doesn’t believe in aliens.”

“And what about you?” the man asked. “Do you believe in aliens?”

Anthony opened his mouth to answer....and then hesitated. The man was looking at the catalog and his tone was casual, but there was something in his voice, something Anthony couldn’t quite put his finger on that made the hair on the back of his neck prickle.

But why? This was the question on everyone’s lips for miles around, a query so ubiquitous it rivaled “how are you?” for sheer use. Everybody was asking everybody whether or not they believed in aliens. Anthony had asked and been asked that questions dozens of times. This time should be no different.

Then the man looked up at him, waiting for an answer, and the look in his eyes made the hair on the back of Anthony's neck stop prickling and literally stand up, his eyes widening with shock as something occurred to him that hadn’t before.

Could it be? Could it possibly be?


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'll post Chapter 18 next Sunday. :)
BRIVARI: "In our language, the root of the word 'Covari' means 'hidden'. I'm always there, Your Highness, even if you don't see me."
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Kathy W
Obsessed Roswellian
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Joined: Thu Oct 31, 2002 5:06 am

Chapter 18

Post by Kathy W »

Hello everyone! *wave*

Misha: Uh-oh. I have reduced the number of occasions you have a chance to read this story by making you spit out your food. :mrgreen:

Dee is indeed a Leo. I know this for certain because she has my birthday, and I'm a Leo. ;)

Her birthday party will be interesting for the presents, the lurking alien(s), and the guests, both expected and unexpected. ;)




CHAPTER EIGHTEEN



July 20, 1947, 1030 hours

Eagle Rock Military Base




“That’s an alien?” General Ramey asked skeptically.

“Yes, sir,” Major Cavitt replied.

“It doesn’t look like an alien.”

“But the photographs, sir….”

“The photographs were of the other alien, the one that escaped.”

“Yes, but the x-rays,” Pierce noted, pointing to a set of x-ray films on a nearby viewer. “These x-rays are of that creature you see before you, and prove incontrovertibly that it is not human. I can’t even begin to identify some of these organs.”

From the corner of the observation room, Yvonne watched as Dr. Pierce made a futile effort to point out the differences in alien anatomy, with the General looking more and more befuddled as he droned on. “Excuse me doctor,” she interjected, “but perhaps it would help to show the General a normal human x-ray so he could view them side by side and note the differences.”

“Good thinking, Lieutenant,” Ramey said, as Pierce nodded his approval. As she leafed through the pile of x-rays searching for the clearest examples to non-medical eyes, she glanced out the observation room window at the alien below, still strapped to his bed. He was passive, looking away as if unaware of the throng above staring at him, but Yvonne knew better. He was planning something, and she found herself in the uncomfortable position of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

After their scuffle yesterday evening at dinner, the rest of the meal had passed uneventfully. And silently. All attempts on her part at some kind of conversation were met with only “yes” or “no” answers or noncommital grunts. Still, he had bid her good night when she had left, and he definitely wasn’t ignoring her anymore. She had left the room satisfied that she had made some progress.

Later, when the free alien had come to her quarters for an update and Yvonne had told him what she had done, she had been surprised to see him break into a genuine smile.

<You broke something?> he had said with amusement, using the telepathic speech which she was having no trouble hearing now. <I would have loved to have seen the look on his face when you did that. You didn’t strike either of us as the type to hurl objects.>

“I was mad,” Yvonne had admitted, a bit sheepishly. “He was so rude. Did I go too far?”

<He is usually rude,> the free alien had answered matter-of-factly. <And you did exactly the right thing. Strong emotions are something he can understand.> And then he had asked her a very strange question.

<How is his health? Do you get the impression that he is....dying?>

"Dying?" Yvonne had repeated. "Well.....no. I mean, I know next to nothing about your physiology, but......"

<You saw my other companion as he lay dying,> the free alien reminded her, <so you have a reference point. What does your intuition tell you?>

Images of Urza had marched through Yvonne's mind; the skin that looked off color even through it was a strange color, the shallow breathing, the loss of consciousness. She hadn't known about his physiology either, but she'd been certain he was dying.

"This one isn't dying," she had answered with confidence. "He just seems weak to me, and he's better now that he's had some food. Dr. Pierce is pushing very hard to let him recover before they start interrogating him, so as long as he keeps eating, he should continue to improve. Why would he be dying?"

<No reason,> the free alien had answered enigmatically. <Now, about your General's visit tomorrow.......>

They had gone on to decide that it was too risky for him to assume Yvonne’s shape until after the General’s visit, which meant more men in the compound and a heightened level of security. The free alien had also impressed upon her the importance of getting the captive alien to say something that would make General Ramey feel those currently holding him were doing their jobs.

“I’ll try,” Yvonne had said, doubtful that anything she said would have any affect on the captive alien if it took broken crockery just to get his attention in the first place. She had lain awake for quite some time trying to figure out how to broach the subject. As it turned out, she hadn’t needed to.

<Why is everyone so agitated?> the captive alien had demanded the next morning when she had arrived for breakfast, tray in hand.

“Good morning,” Yvonne had said smoothly, mentally reminding herself not to sound like she was answering his questions. “You’re having a visitor today.”

<Oh. Yes. My companion mentioned that. Someone of higher rank than the imbeciles here, I take it?>

“General Ramey is coming to see you,” Yvonne replied, setting up the breakfast trays. “He makes the final decisions about what happens to you.”

<What rank is 'General'?>

"General is the highest rank there is," Yvonne had answered, "distinguished by the number of stars they've earned. They can earn up to five—General Ramey is a two-star General, which means he's of much higher rank than the other imbe….officers around here. It would be a good idea to keep him satisfied.”

<A General,> the alien had said with a gleam in his eyes, ignoring her last remark. <Good.>

Then he had silently tucked into his breakfast with unusual gusto while Yvonne sat there wondering why he was so happy. Further attempts at conversation were rebuffed. He had bid her a perfunctory goodbye when she had left, still wondering exactly what that gleam in his eyes meant.

Yvonne placed the normal x-rays she had chosen alongside the alien’s, and Pierce immediately launched into a comparative explanation which Ramey allowed to continue for a full ten seconds before interrupting him.

“Yes, yes,” he said impatiently. “Let me get this straight—this thing can change the look of its face and its body?”

“Correct,” Cavitt confirmed. “That’s the reason for the stringent security procedures you no doubt noticed….”

“Hard not to,” Ramey said wryly. “I expected the next question to be my underwear size.”

“I’m sorry if it seems intrusive, but I assure you it is necessary,” Cavitt replied rather huffily. “We have reason to believe the escaped alien survived. It could return at any time looking like virtually anyone.”

“What about its supposed ability to move objects without touching them, or affect electric fields?” Ramey asked. “Can you demonstrate any of these ‘powers’ you’ve been talking about?”

“They’re not ‘supposed’ abilities,” Cavitt objected. “I’m certain you’ve read the reports of the numerous witnesses to….”

“I've read the reports, but I’d like to see a demonstration,” Ramey interrupted.

“With all due respect, General, if you were to see such a ‘demonstration’, that might be the last thing you’d ever see,” Cavitt pointed out.

“The serum we’ve developed prevents the creature from using its abilities,” Pierce added. “I don’t see how we could hold it unless its powers were suppressed.”

“So in other words, gentlemen, other than the ship, what you’ve got is a whole lot of nothing,” Ramey said flatly.

Pierce and Cavitt exchanged glances. Both began talking at once until Ramey silenced them with a wave of his hand.

“Think about it, Majors. You say you had a little gray alien, but it escaped. You say you had two dead little gray aliens, but their bodies vamoosed, or something. You say you had dead soldiers with silver handprints on their bodies, but the handprints aren’t there anymore. You say these creatures can do all manner of magical stuff, but this one can’t because you stopped it. You say that’s an alien, but it looks perfectly human to me. Forgive me, gentlemen,” Ramey finished, “but all of this is an awful lot to swallow.”

“But.......” Cavitt began blustering, only to have Ramey cut him off again.

“If you don’t mind, Major, I’d like to hear from Dr. Pierce first. The ship is your department; this is his department. I’m sure you can wait a few minutes to tell me about how all of this is someone else’s fault.”

Cavitt pinked. Behind him, Yvonne suppressed a smile.

Pierce removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “I see your point, sir. The only evidence we have of the silver handprints and the aliens in their alien form are photographs and eyewitness accounts. As for the alien’s unique abilities, we simply don’t have a way to detain them while they have the use of their powers. I agree that prevents us from studying those powers. But there is so much more to learn about than just its powers: It's origins, its purpose here, what it knows about life beyond our planet, which we now have proof exists. Plus there are other avenues of research that don't involve any cooperation on its part that you and I need to discuss. There are possibilities here far beyond its powers. I implore you to keep that in mind before making any decisions.”

Ramey looked through the window at the tethered form on the bed below. “Has anyone tried to interrogate it?”

“I wanted to, but Dr. Pierce wouldn’t let me,” Cavitt began, only to fall silent when Ramey shot him a withering look.

“Not yet, sir," Pierce said smoothly, ignoring Cavitt. "There were other issues I felt took precedence. For example, we needed to settle the issue of possible contamination. We've been unable to detect any foreign bacteria, so it should be safe to approach, but I've ordered weekly blood tests for all personnel just to be on the safe side. And we’ve spent the week adjusting the dosage of serum—the creature only fully awakened three days ago. At the moment, it’s quite weak. Initially it refused to eat. Our Lieutenant White here managed to convince it that eating was in its best interests. So far, the Lieutenant is the only person it has responded to positively.”

“That so?” Ramey threw an appreciative look Yvonne’s way. “At least we know it has good taste.” Yvonne blushed.

“We’ve decided to have Lieutenant White take meals with the creature because it seems to like her and we believe she’s making progress," Pierce continued. "We need more time for the creature to regain its strength, and for the Lieutenant to continue her efforts to reach it.”

"So what you're saying is, no one's tried to talk to it and it hasn't said squat."

“Sir, its been through a lot in the past week,” Pierce said persuasively. “We’re still tweaking the serum dosage, and because the serum alters brain chemistry, albeit in a way we don’t yet fully understand, that does take a physical toll on the creature. We don’t understand its physiology; we could easily hurt it without meaning to, and where would we be then? This is the only one we have—we can’t afford to lose it. I want it stronger before letting the Major off his leash. Let us settle the immediate medical questions before actively pursuing intel. And frankly, I think we stand a better chance of obtaining information through a non-threatening source like Lieutenant White. One frequently catches more flies with honey.”

Ramey shook his head. “That may be, doctor, but I’m afraid I can’t wait—I’ve got too many dogs nipping at my heels. If I don’t go back to Washington with something, anything, I won’t be in command much longer, and neither will either of you. Your concern for its welfare is touching, but time’s up. I’m going in there.”



******************************************************




Proctor residence




Anthony Evans sat on the Proctor’s couch as the man he’d seen with Dee on Pohlman Ranch regarded him gravely, the telescope catalog forgotten in his lap. “Do you believe in aliens?” the man had asked. Such a simple question, and such a common one these days. But coming from this individual, it sounded unexpectedly disconcerting. So disconcerting that Anthony found his throat closing even though he was trying to talk.

“I.......I.........”

The man’s eyebrows rose. That simple gesture snapped Anthony out of the stupor in which he found himself. Stop being silly! he chastised himself severely, pushing his glasses back up his sweaty nose. They wouldn’t look human!

“I don’t know what happened on the ranch,” Anthony said honestly, “but I do believe in aliens.”

“Oh? And why is that?”

The questions sounded more innocent this time, merely curious, lacking whatever weight he’d previously thought they carried. “Well.....the universe is so big,” Anthony said. “It just doesn’t make sense that we’re the only people in it.”

“It does not,” the man confirmed, as though he knew this for a fact. “A well reasoned viewpoint.”

Anthony throat began to relax. What had he been thinking? It was ludicrous, really. Completely nuts. He’d been reading too many space novels.

Suddenly the door opened and Mr. Proctor entered, all dressed up for church, stopping short when he saw the two people sitting on his couch.

“Anthony!” Mr. Proctor said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

“Your daughter’s young friend and I were discussing gifts,” the man said, briefly turning the cover of the catalog toward Mr. Proctor. “Should we hide this?”

“No, no, that’s all right,” Mr. Proctor said, shutting the door behind him. “Dee and Emily are over at the Brazel’s for the next few minutes. I’ll take it. Thanks for bringing it over,” he added to Anthony.

“Sure, Mr. Proctor,” Anthony answered, feeling much better now that he'd come to his senses. He climbed off the couch. “I should be going. Mother’s probably wondering where I am. It was nice meeting you, Mr….” He paused. “You never told me your name.”

Silence. Anthony looked back and forth from the man to Mr. Proctor, both of whom were looking at each other.

“Langley,” Mr. Proctor said suddenly. “This is Mr. Langley, an old friend of the family.”

“He....said he was a relative,” Anthony said uncertainly.

“Right. Well….he’s such a close friend, we think of him like family,” Mr. Proctor said, smiling.

“Oh…well, nice to meet you,” Anthony said politely to Mr. Langley, who nodded rather formally. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Anthony. Thanks again for the catalog,” Mr. Proctor called as Anthony headed out the front door.

Outside on the porch, Anthony leaned against a porch post, shaking his head at his own stupidity. What was the matter with him? Why did he have those ridiculous notions running through his head? She said they were gray, he reminded himself. That man in there certainly wasn’t gray. He did have weird ideas about telescopes, but maybe he didn’t know as much as he thought he did. Grown-ups were funny that way; they never liked to admit it when kids were smarter. Hopefully he’d have a chance to get to Mr. Proctor before he followed Mr. Langley’s advice and bought a worthless telescope.

Smiling at his own silliness, Anthony climbed down the front steps and headed for home, sparing a glance at the Brazel's house. He'd only known Dee for a short time, but he already knew her well enough to know she'd be back as soon as possible, if only to get out of the dress she would have had to wear to church. Hopefully Mr. Proctor would hide the catalog fast.

If he had waited just a moment longer, he might not have missed the voices floating out the nearby open living room window.

“Mr. 'Langley'?”

“My 9th grade science teacher. I thought it was appropriate.”

A rustling noise. “Buy her the telescope that will cost you the least currency, and I will take care of the rest.”




******************************************************





Eagle Rock Military Base



Advancing ahead of the three senior officers, Lieutenant Spade and a contingent of soldiers entered the room holding the captive alien. General Ramey had insisted on speaking to the prisoner, and it looked like the entire complement of the compound had turned out for the occasion judging from the packed observation room. Out of the corner of his eye he spied Yvonne standing beside one of the med techs; she looked unusually nervous, and he wondered why. Was she expecting something to happen? He knew she had been communicating with it using that “telepathic speech”, or whatever she had called it. Did she know something he didn’t?

The soldiers took up positions around the alien, still strapped to the bed and ignoring them all. Every rifle was raised, every finger tensed on the trigger. Spade saw Private Treyborn across the room, looking every bit as frightened as he had when Ramey had first appeared.....no big surprise as Treyborn was all of eighteen, barely old enough to shave. All of his men were young, and most were Privates, with a few Pfc.'s and Corporal's sprinkled in. Perhaps Cavitt thought younger, greener soldiers were easier to browbeat.

As soon as the prisoner was surrounded, General Ramey, Major Cavitt, and Dr. Pierce entered. Cavitt was wearing the scowl he always wore when he was around the prisoner, Pierce appeared neutral, and Ramey.....Ramey looked interested. For the second time that day, Spade allowed a tiny bit of hope to creep through his certainty that few of them would get out of this alive. First impressions could be deceiving and officially he was reserving judgment, but it appeared that by some stroke of fate, divine providence, or perhaps sheer dumb luck, a decent person with a level head on his shoulders had finally entered the fray. Spade wasn't sure what he'd been expecting when he had been so devastatingly blunt with Ramey earlier about his order to hold fire, but he certainly hadn't expect him to get mad, disagree.....and then drop the subject after praising him for sticking to his guns. Maybe they weren't all dead after all. Maybe.

True to form, Ramey wasted no time getting started. He walked straight up to the bed, unlike most others who typically kept their distance, and studied the figure it contained closely before turning to Pierce.

“Can it understand me, doctor?”

“Oh, yes,” Pierce replied. “On some level, at least. It certainly responded to Lieutenant White.”

“You said they spoke our language?”

“So we’ve heard,” Pierce said. “Although this one hasn’t said a word since it woke up.”

“General,” Cavitt interrupted, “I believe you’re wasting your time here. We have no idea if this particular specimen is capable of speech, or even intelligent thought. I….”

He broke off suddenly as the alien turned its head in one swift movement and fixed upon Cavitt a glare that could have easily frozen boiling water. Everyone gasped; the tension in the room skyrocketed. Spade felt his throat constrict. He had a bad feeling about this.

“You were saying?” Ramey said dryly to a stunned Major Cavitt.

“Well…that means nothing,” Cavitt sputtered. “Even infants can pick up on someone’s tone. Other aliens have apparently spoken English, but that doesn’t mean this one can. Perhaps this one can’t speak. Or perhaps Dr. Pierce damaged it in some way. Or perhaps….”

“….or perhaps you are just a blithering idiot, a sorry ‘specimen’ of your race, never mind your military, who likely hasn’t suffered an intelligent thought in your entire life.”

The alien’s voice rang through the room, harsh and raspy, as though from a throat which had seen little use of late. Every pair of eyes in the room popped. Spade’s heart rate went from double to triple digits in a matter of seconds. Pierce’s eyebrows had risen so far they had disappeared beneath his hair, although he appeared more interested than surprised. Cavitt, initially shocked that the alien had spoken, turned scarlet as he processed what it had said.

Ramey recovered first. “So, Major,” he said to the flushing Cavitt. “Would you still like to argue it’s not capable of intelligent thought?”

Cavitt opened his mouth, then closed it, wisely choosing to remain silent. Ramey gave the alien an appraising look. “Found your tongue, I see. I am Major General Roger Ramey. Who are you, and where do you come from?”

“I will ‘find my tongue’ for you, and only you," the alien answered, ignoring the General's questions.

“And why is that?”

“Because you are the closest thing present to a representative of your government. I wish to speak with you as a representative of mine.”

Ramey blinked. “Go ahead.”

“Privately,” the alien qualified. “Face to face and unbound.”

Ramey’s eyebrows rose. “I see. And the reason I would agree to such a preposterous arrangement is….what exactly?”

“Because you are curious,” the alien replied, "and because you will be the one who approaches your superiors with anything I might say. You will be the first person to converse with the representative of another world, something that, prior to my arrival, you didn’t even know existed. Don’t you want that honor, General?”

Not the first person, Spade thought to himself, thinking of a spunky little girl who wore red sneakers. Still, the alien was definitely pushing all the right buttons, dangling the bait that would entice an ambitious man.

But Ramey wasn't biting. “This isn’t about my ‘honor’," he snapped. "Given your people’s behavior, you’re in no position to pass yourself off as a diplomat.”

“Which leads me to the most important reason of all you should agree to speak with me—that your people’s behavior is much worse than mine,” the alien replied angrily. “We did nothing to you. You at least owe me an audience.”

“Come again?” Ramey exclaimed in disbelief. “You did ‘nothing’? That’s not what I heard, and I don’t owe you a damned thing! I have absolutely no good reason to remove your restraints, never mind grant you a private audience.”

The alien’s eyes narrowed. “I see. Then I suppose I shall have to try harder to provide one.”

What happened next happened so fast that, even afterwards, no one could agree on the exact sequence of events. What everyone did agree on was hearing the snap of the leather straps that bound the creature, the clatter of a rifle on the tile floor, and a strangled cry.

The next thing Spade knew, the alien was squatting on the bed free of his restraints with one arm firmly around Private Walker’s neck, whose rifle was on the floor several feet away.

“Tell me, General," the alien demanded, its eyes hard. "Does the impending death of one of your men constitute sufficient reason?”




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I'll post Chapter 19 next Sunday. :)
BRIVARI: "In our language, the root of the word 'Covari' means 'hidden'. I'm always there, Your Highness, even if you don't see me."
User avatar
Kathy W
Obsessed Roswellian
Posts: 690
Joined: Thu Oct 31, 2002 5:06 am

Post by Kathy W »

Hello to everyone reading! *wave*
Misha wrote: And speaking of Mr. Langley, I was soooo certain Brivari was going to be Nasedo...but then again, the story is not finished yet... who knows? Knowing you, I shouldn't just think this is the end of it.
Smart woman. ;) :mrgreen:

And I think you'll like the way Dee's telescope turns out. (My kids thought it all rather fantastic, but then again, we are dealing with aliens.) Her birthday comes up in the next part, which starts with Chapter 22.




CHAPTER NINETEEN


July 20, 1947, 1100 hours

Eagle Rock Military Base






His finger on the trigger, Lieutenant Spade hesitated, waiting for an order. The alien had inexplicably broken its restraints and now had a death grip on Private Walker, one arm pinning Walker's arms to his side, the other around his neck. Walker's eyes bulged as his lower arms clawed uselessly at nothing; he didn't look like he was getting much in the way of air. Was this what Yvonne had been waiting for? A quick glance in her direction answered Spade's question—her eyes were round as saucers, her mouth a wide "O". She hadn't been expecting this either.

Ramey rounded angrily on Pierce. "I thought you said it couldn't..."

"It can't," Pierce interrupted, eyeing the now useless restraints which had bound the alien only seconds ago. "This isn't manipulation of an electrical field like we've seen in the past. This is brute strength."

"You said you wanted it stronger," Ramey said, sarcasm tingeing his voice as Pierce looked distinctly uncomfortable. "It appears you've gotten your wish." He turned back to the alien, who was watching him closely. "Release him, or I'll order my men to shoot."

"A useless order," the alien challenged. Walker gasped as the arm around his throat tightened. "The drug will not take affect fast enough to prevent me breaking his neck."

"Fire!" Cavitt ordered.

"Belay that order!" Ramey bellowed.

"But, sir!" Major Cavitt protested. "It refused...."

"Silence!" Ramey snapped, as he and Cavitt glared furiously at each other. The soldiers froze, taut as bowstrings; Pierce, as usual, merely looked intrigued, as though he were watching some psychiatric patient lose their marbles. Those in the observation room couldn't hear what was being said below, but it was clear from the expressions on their faces that they didn't need to.

Ramey turned his attention back to the alien, leaving Cavitt smoldering beside him. "You don't really believe this charming little display is going to convince me to meet with you, do you? Because if you do, you're every bit as stupid as the Major thinks you are."

The alien gave a grim smile. "I know only too well how little value you place on the life of this drone. I imagine you consider him quite expendable. Although," it added, as Walker's terrified eyes came to rest on Ramey, "I warrant he might find his expendability something of a shock."

Ramey flushed. "If you feel I hold the lives of my men in such low esteem, then what exactly do you expect to gain by this?"

"Your attention," the alien answered, "which it now appears I have. Consider this, General," it continued, as Walker struggled in its grasp. "I know you value information. Grant me the private audience I desire, and you will learn something....and this wretch will live. Refuse and he will die, and I will no doubt be sedated. Which means you will learn nothing—nothing about me, my people, my planet, the reason for my presence here—nothing. And when I awaken, I will repeat this procedure. As you have no doubt noticed, your so-called 'restraints' cannot hold me."

All eyes shifted to the broken restraints. The metal buckles and rings which held the various leather pieces together had broken; even the bed frame itself appeared bent. A being that strong couldn't be held. Nervous looks were exchanged as reality sank in; there were many who had been brave enough to approach the alien only because it had been tied down. And all along, those restraints had meant nothing.

"What makes you think we'll let you wake up again?" Ramey asked coldly.

The alien smiled sardonically. "Come now, General. You can't afford to lose yet another 'specimen'. I'm sure even these simpletons have noticed how quickly our bodies disintegrate after our deaths. Kill me, and you truly learn nothing. Kill me, and you lose."

"And if I meet with you, what's to stop you pulling a similar stunt with me as the hostage?" Ramey demanded. "It won't work. I'll leave orders that I not be rescued. Every soldier is expendable in defense of his country, including me."

"Very noble of you, I'm sure," the alien said sarcastically. "The difference, of course, is that you chose your level of expendability, while this unfortunate is in the process of having it chosen for him while his fellows watch, wondering why you would sentence him to death when the price of his safety is a simple meeting with me. Or perhaps you are too frightened?"

Ramey's eyes narrowed as he realized he was standing on the verge of a morale nightmare. The alien had successfully maneuvered him into that tricky spot between a rock and a hard place. If he refused to meet with it, Walker would die and Ramey would be branded a coward who placed his own safety above the lives of his men; if he did agree to a meeting, it might kill Ramey instead. But it won't, Spade thought privately. The alien had nothing to gain and everything to lose by killing someone of such importance. If it was smart enough to back him into this corner, it was also smart enough to know that.

"I will meet with you privately in one hour," Ramey said, as Major Cavitt's mouth dropped open. "Now release him."

"First have your men lower their weapons," the alien countered.

"What assurance do I have that you won't just kill him anyway?"

"What assurance do I have that you won't just shoot me anyway if I release him?"

"You have my word," Ramey said firmly, "which is a damned sight better than the word of a known killer."

"Oh, you think so, do you?" the alien retorted. "You expect me to take the word of a race which attacked us without provocation and murdered my people in cold blood ?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ramey snapped. "I have ten dead soldiers because of you and yours! Do you deny that?"

"You struck first!" the alien said angrily. "You murdered our people and stole our property! Would you not have defended yourselves in a similar situation?"

"The reports say that you attacked us!" Ramey said heatedly, perilously close to losing his temper now. "I don't suppose you have any witnesses to your version of events, do you?"

Just me, Spade thought, as a bead of sweat trickled down the back of his neck. Of the five people who had witnessed confrontations with the aliens, four were dead; two killed by aliens, two by their own people. He was the only living witness, the only one left who had seen Fifer lose his temper and West lose his wits. The last thing he wanted was more dead bodies of any species, but if he spoke up for an alien who was presently engaged in the act of strangling a human soldier there would be hell to pay from both Cavitt and his own men. And just minutes after daring to hope he might actually live through all this.

"That's what I thought," Ramey said with grim satisfaction. "Now release him!"

"No," the alien said flatly. "I won't release him until your weapons are lowered."

"Release him, or I'll have you pumped so full of that sedative you'll never wake up!" Ramey exploded in frustration, losing his temper at last. He wasn't the only one; judging by the anger flaring in the eyes of every soldier in the room, Spade wasn't the least bit certain they'd obey an order to stand down. If this standoff continued, one of them was going to fire with or without an order.

"If you are that willing to kill me, then I am already dead," the alien said soberly, "and this man along with me. You can't threaten a dead man, General. Dead men have nothing to lose." As he spoke, the alien's hand slid to Walker's chin, catching it in an iron grip at just the right angle to snap his neck.

Dead men have nothing to lose. A sentiment Spade could sympathize with, having already reached that conclusion on his own. No one spoke. The eyes of both the General and the alien were locked on one other, each daring the other to call his bluff. Across the room, Yvonne looked as though she hadn't drawn breath since the drama began. Walker, who could now breathe easier but stood only millimeters from death, struggled briefly in the alien's new grasp, then gave up. Why here? Spade thought wearily. He couldn't have picked a worse venue if he'd tried. Still, this was far preferable to penning a letter to Walker's parents full of some fiction about how he'd died.

"I'm a witness, sir."

Silence. Spade waited for the reaction, grateful that his need to keep his eyes on the alien meant that he didn't have to actually look at the General, or anyone else for that matter. If this was a bad time to have this conversation, it was an even worse time to lose his nerve.

"Excuse me?" General Ramey said in disbelief.

"I'm a witness," Spade repeated, his knuckles white from gripping his rifle so hard in an effort to camouflage his shaking hands. "I was there when we first found the ship; I saw what happened. I was there when the other one surrendered; I saw that too. I'm the last man alive who did."

" 'Surrendered'?" echoed the General. "Did I hear you say it 'surrendered'?"

He doesn't know, Spade thought...but that should come as no surprise. The statement he'd given about the surrendering alien that conflicted sharply with Cavitt's invented version of events had likely been used to line the nearest waste basket. Fortunately Cavitt hadn't cleaned house completely, because Spade was still alive with vivid memories of that afternoon. He'd be more than happy to file a second statement.

"I'm certain the Lieutenant misspoke," came Cavitt's voice, cold as ice. "Didn't you Lieutenant?"

"No, sir," Spade said firmly. "One of the aliens surrendered. I accepted that surrender."

"Did you give a statement concerning this, Lieutenant?" Ramey asked.

"I did, sir."

Now it was Ramey's voice that had gone cold. "I ordered you to turn over all paperwork on this operation. Why didn't I see this statement?"

"Sir, I gave you the bulk of…." Cavitt began.

"You mean you withheld information," Ramey said flatly.

"I…."

"What part of 'all' don't you understand, Major?"

"With respect, sir, 'all' information would have been a pile several feet high! I passed on what I felt was pertinent…."

"Pertinent?!" Ramey roared. "Pertinent?! Since when do you decide what's 'pertinent'? And since when does 'pertinent' not include testimony that conflicts with your own?"

Spade risked a peek around the room, starting with Yvonne. She actually looked relieved, and promptly gave him an encouraging nod as though she'd been waiting to make eye contact. Cavitt was seething of course, anger and humiliation surrounding him like a cloud. Most just looked confused, holding their collective breaths, waiting to see which way the wind would blow. The alien remained on the bed, Walker's chin in its hand, watching the drama play itself out. And Ramey....Ramey looked back and forth from Spade to Cavitt, his face a study in fury as he once again found himself with his back against the proverbial wall, this time courtesy of his own men.

"Soldiers," Ramey said at last, "stand down."

Relief washing over him, Spade released his cramped trigger finger and lowered his weapon. He was the only one who did.

"I said, stand down!" Ramey barked.

Slowly, reluctantly, the soldiers lowered their weapons, their faces a collective mask of hatred.

"Your turn," Ramey said to the alien coldly.

After sweeping his gaze across every weapon in the room, the alien nodded. He removed his arm from Walker's neck and gave him a two handed shove toward Spade, who was almost knocked back against the wall as he caught him. Clicking noises followed, and Spade looked up from the coughing and gasping Walker to find that several of the soldiers had raised their weapons again.

"I gave you an order!" Ramey shouted. "Stand down!"

"Don't you want us to fire, sir?" one of the soldiers asked hopefully.

"Let me make myself perfectly clear," Ramey seethed. "If even one of you fires against my explicit order, I will personally court-martial every hairy ass in this room! Is that clear?"

No one moved. No one lowered their weapons. Spade, who had just been thanking God for narrowly averting disaster, realized he had prayed too soon. Only the alien appeared unconcerned, watching with interest as Ramey struggled to control his subordinates.

"I said, IS THAT CLEAR?" Ramey bellowed, his face reddening almost as much as Cavitt's had earlier.

Resentment burning in their eyes, the soldiers lowered their weapons.

"Now, get out of here!" Ramey ordered. "Before I bring the lot of you up on charges!"

Spade watched the soldiers file out sullenly, throwing dark looks his way. He'd just made a lot of enemies....including Walker, it seemed, who glared at him as a couple of med techs helped him up and carried him away toward the infirmary. Whoever said "the truth will set you free" was full of it.

"Lieutenant 'Spade', isn't it?" Ramey asked, as Spade watched the angry looks march by. "Get a guard detail in here, people you can trust. Lieutenant White," he continued, addressing Yvonne and throwing a look of undisguised disgust at the alien, still crouched on the bed wearing a hospital gown that left little to the imagination. "Clean this thing up and get it some clothes. And Majors," he finished pointedly, turning to Pierce and Cavitt, "You're with me."





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Proctor residence




Sitting at the desk in her bedroom, Dee Proctor heard the footsteps on the stairs and sighed. She'd been listening to the conversation below, and she knew what was coming. It was time to give it back, and she wasn't looking forward to it.

The footsteps stopped at her bedroom door. <I'm surprised you're here,> she said, not bothering to turn around. <Why aren't you with Jaddo? Isn't this the day the General visits?>

<That's precisely why I am not there,> Brivari replied, sitting down on the bed behind her. <I am concerned my presence might make him go and do something stupid.>

<That could happen anyway,> Dee said, smiling slightly.

<True,> Brivari allowed, <but there is no need for me to help it happen.>

Dee closed the book she had been reading. <Aren't you afraid they're going to hurt him?>

<He is safe at the moment. They are too enamored of their prize to do him any injury.> Brivari looked beside him on the bed where Dee had laid her scratchy Sunday dress after changing into shorts and a blouse. <Did you enjoy your visit to your place of worship?>

<No.>

<Oh? Why not?>

<Father O'Neill—that's the priest who helped you—said I couldn't be an altar boy, or altar girl, rather. He said he was very sorry, but only boys could do it,> Dee said, scowling at the memory.

<What duties does this 'altar boy' have?>

<They help out during Mass. They hands things to the priest, and light the candles, and stuff like that.>

<And your anatomy prevents you performing these tasks?>

<Of course not,> Dee said scornfully. <Girls could do it just as well as boys. I asked Father O'Neill why girls weren't allowed, and he said that's just the way it is. He wouldn't tell me why.>

Brivari smiled faintly. <I can. It is because of fear, or prejudice to be more exact. Prejudice is always based on fear. In this case, it appears to be fear of losing the power which comes with being the ones who perform these rites.>

<It's stupid, is what it is,> Dee grumbled.

<Not to those who stand to lose power, it isn't,> Brivari pointed out. <Similar situations exist everywhere. On my world, my race is kept largely separate from others. There are only certain jobs we are allowed to do, and there are certain places we may not go.>

<Why do they treat you like that?>

<We are considered untrustworthy because we can change our appearance at will. Others who cannot do that are uncomfortable around us.>

Dee shook her head in consternation. <That doesn't make any sense.>

<It makes a great deal more sense than some of the attitudes I've encountered here,> Brivari noted. <People fear us because we can do something they cannot. But you were just refused participation because of your gender, even though your gender does not seem to afford you skills others lack. And I seem to remember that skin hue is an issue on this world, although I can't imagine why.>

Dee was quiet for a moment, thinking. She had heard that black people had their own schools and churches, even water fountains and parks, although she couldn't say for certain because there were no black people in Corona. Around here it was Indians who lived apart. They lived on the reservation south of town, going to their own schools and keeping to themselves. She'd always been a little afraid of Indians, staring at the few she'd seen and wondering if all the tales she'd heard were true. Now that she had a different frame of reference, everything she thought she knew about Indians was suddenly suspect.

<Everything looks different now,> Dee said soberly. <Now that I know you and the others—and I've seen the way people just assume you're bad even though they don't know anything at all about you....well….I guess I never really thought about it before, but now it bothers me. And when I grow up, I'm going to stop it,> she announced.

<You can't stop it,> Brivari said. <It happens everywhere, in one form or another on every world I've ever visited. Prejudice is universal.>

<I can try, can't I?>

<I wouldn't dream of trying to stop you,> Brivari said with a wry smile. He looked around. <Your father tells me you have something of mine. I'd like it back.>

Sighing, Dee reluctantly stood up. <You'll have to get off the bed.> Brivari rose, and Dee dug under the mattress, pulling out the metal book and laying it on the bed.

<I thought we'd lost this,> Brivari said wistfully, running his hand over the now empty cover. <I'm glad you found it.>

Dee had a million questions about this book, and she wanted at least the major ones answered before she never saw it again and was reduced to staring at her etchings. <What is it? Who's it for?>

<It is instructions for the hybrids,> Brivari answered, <things they will need to know when they emerge.>

<But…won't they know already if they're born all grown up?>

<They should.....but we are not certain. Much has gone wrong, even more since Valeris wrote this. Many years will pass before they emerge, and much can happen in that time. He felt it best to leave a guide.>

So…Valeris had written the book. Dee could almost see him, sitting in that odd little room where they had hidden when the Army had found them, hunched over that little table, making this. <Is this what your language looks like?>

<Yes.>

<It's pretty,> Dee commented, running her fingers over the deep etchings. She liked to touch them for some reason, trace them with her fingertip. <And the pictures…which is which? I think this is the King,> she said, pointing. <And this is the Queen, and this is Princess. The last one must be the General.>

<Correct,> Brivari answered, running the tip of his own finger over the King's human face.

<Are you still mad at him?>

Brivari's finger hesitated over the etching of the King. <Yes.>

<Why? I thought it was the Princess's fault.>

<It was. But the King created a climate whereby his enemy was allowed to prosper. He shares the blame.>

<She's really pretty,> Dee said, gazing at the etching of the Princess. <Well…I mean her human shape is pretty. I don't know what she looked like before.>

<She was considered beautiful then too,> Brivari said softly. <No doubt Vilandra will be beautiful wherever she goes.>

Dee was quiet for a moment. <Jaddo didn't think Vilandra did whatever she did on purpose.>

<Probably not,> Brivari answered. <But that doesn't change what happened, does it?>

<No...but it does mean she's not as bad as you think, doesn't it?>

Brivari didn't answer. Dee decided to drop that particular subject. She didn't want to get him all worked up about the Princess before she had her questions answered.

<Do you know why the cover changes?>

Brivari looked up sharply. <What?>

<The cover,> Dee said, pointing to the now smooth, empty cover of the book. <Sometimes there are pictures on it. They just appear for a few minutes, then they go away. It's weird.>

Suddenly Brivari grabbed her by the shoulders. <What did you see?> he demanded.

<I….I'm not sure,> Dee stammered, hoping he wasn't mad at her. <Does it matter?>

<I'm sorry,> Brivari said, releasing her when he saw the look on her face. <I didn't mean to startle you, but this is very important: Do you remember what you saw on the cover?>

Dee hesitated, torn. She didn't want to tell Brivari that she'd copied every single page in that book, including the strange symbols on the cover during the brief time they had last appeared. But she wouldn't have to; she'd looked at her drawings so often that she remembered them by heart. <I'll draw them for you,> she said, heading over to her desk and grabbling a pencil, sketching quickly on a piece of scrap paper. Brivari bent over her, watching her draw, his eyes growing wider with every stroke. When she had finished he snatched the paper out from under her and stared at what she had drawn.

<Are you sure this was what you saw?> he demanded.

<Pretty sure,> Dee said. <It's close anyway.> More like exact, actually, but no way was she telling him that when he was in this mood. So much for not getting him all worked up. <What does it mean?>

<My God,> Brivari breathed. <Zan.>





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I'll post Chapter 20 next Sunday. :)
BRIVARI: "In our language, the root of the word 'Covari' means 'hidden'. I'm always there, Your Highness, even if you don't see me."
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