PART FORTY-ONE
July 7, 1947, 12:30 p.m.
Proctor residence
Emily Proctor leaned against the wall outside Dee’s room and closed her eyes, marshalling her courage. This shouldn’t be so difficult. Such a simple thing, really. Whoever would have thought that merely walking into her daughter’s bedroom would take such effort.
David, who was now sleeping the sleep of the dead, had been up earlier with a plate of food for Dee. Emily had protested leaving their daughter alone with an injured being from another planet, but David had been firm. “They’ve saved her life twice already,” he’d pointed out, “and besides, you’d have to lock her out of there. She’d just go right back in. Does she remind you of anyone you know?” he added, smiling.
And Emily had looked daggers at her husband, but only for a moment. Because he was right; Dee came by her stubbornness honestly. The apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree.
Now, peeking around the doorway, Emily could see that Dee had finished her sandwich. She was curled up on the window bench, fast asleep under that stuffy afghan, and the plate was on her bedside table complete with the usual rejected bread crusts. All she had to do was walk in there, retrieve the plate, and walk back out. So simple.
Or it would have been simple, if not for the lump under the blanket on her daughter’s bed. Emily could see from the size of the lump that the alien had reverted to its own form. It was only about her daughter’s height and incredibly skinny, with a huge head that was mostly obscured underneath the covers. Strange, the way it hid its shape from human eyes. Much the same way a human would hide if it were naked. She still hadn’t gotten a good look at it and, frankly, she didn’t want to. Not now. The two hours worth of storytelling and explaination that had taken place not long ago downstairs in the living room had been quite enough information to digest for the moment, thank you very much.
Stepping quietly, Emily eased into the room. Honestly, you’re being such a ninny, she scolded herself. Dee clearly wasn’t afraid of it, sitting up here with it like she did, even falling asleep in front of it. If her eight year-old could handle this, certainly a grown woman should be able to. She rounded the end of the bed a bit more confidently. She was just going to take the plate and go. Just like that. Even if it was only inches from a creature from another planet.
A hand emerged from under the blanket on the bed, and Emily’s resolve melted like butter in an oven. She froze in place, staring open-mouthed at the huge hand with the ridiculously long fingers, attached to a ridiculously skinny arm, as it snaked out, reaching, reaching, for…..
……for the bread crusts. Those long, awkward looking fingers were surprisingly nimble as they picked up the nearest crust of peanut butter and jelly sandwich and delivered it under the blanket in the general direction of the head. Chewing noises followed, then the arm snaked out again for the remaining crust. Emily smiled in spite of herself. She was standing here trembling, heart racing, over something so basic.
It was hungry.
“Hello?” she ventured hesitantly. The huge gray hand had almost reached the second crust, but it shot back under the blanket at the sound of her voice.
Emily tried again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you hungry? I can get you something to eat.” You’re babbling, she told herself severely. Stop it.
The gray hand slid out again and pointed toward the bench by the window. Toward Dee.
Emily was momentarily confused. It wanted her daughter? Why? She repeated her question, only to be met with the same pointing finger, more insistent this time. Finally, the meaning sank in.
“I’m not waking her,” Emily said firmly. “She’s exhausted.” And well she should be. From what she’d heard, Dee had been to hell and back, and nothing short of the Second Coming could have induced Emily to wake her.
The owner of that gray hand had other ideas. The hand snaked out again, followed by a long arm, not pointing this time, but reaching, reaching toward the figure of her daughter curled on the bench. The bed was separated from the window bench only by the width of the bedside table in between. It would be a stretch, but it could reach her. Shake her awake. Make her act as translator, as it clearly wanted.
It never got there. Irritated at being ignored, Emily clamped a firm, parental hand on that skinny gray wrist. Its owner stiffened momentarily, surprised.
“Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear,” Emily said, trying to simultaneously keep her voice steady and forget she was holding an alien’s arm. “I am not waking her up. She’s exhausted—and on your behalf, I might add. We’re going to let her sleep, and you and I will just have to muddle through.”
She carefully released the skinny wrist, holding her hand ready in case she needed to press her case further. She couldn’t explain it, but she’d received an impression about this….being….when she was using those strange stones on it. Whoever this was, they were accustomed to being obeyed. And she might do just that, if it were any other subject. But when the subject was her daughter, then she was used to being obeyed, and she would do whatever was necessary to get that point across.
Apparently something else was necessary, because the hand was moving again. Moving slowly, as if hoping she wasn’t looking, but moving nonetheless toward the window bench. Emily’s eyes turned hard as she gripped the wrist again. The she gasped as the blanket was abruptly pulled down, revealing a large head with huge, black eyes, staring right at her.
Momentarily stunned, Emily gaped at the completely alien face in front of her, but she didn’t release the wrist. She looked the figure up and down trying to figure out how the blanket had fallen away, and the position of the second hand was a dead giveaway. It did that on purpose! she thought with astonishment. To scare me. And it had worked. But not well enough.
Emily pursed her lips in anger and took an even firmer grip on the wrist. Leaning over, she looked the creature directly in those vacant, pupil-less eyes. It wasn’t necessary to keep the tremor out of her voice this time—there wasn’t any. Her parental authority had been challenged in her own house, and she was mad.
“Now you listen to me,” she said in a steely tone. “Let me put this in terms you might understand. My husband said you guard a king. I guard someone too—my daughter. If you want our help, you will do things my way. You will not disturb her while she’s sleeping, you will listen to me when I tell you to leave her alone, or I will dump you in the front yard and call the Army. Now, did you catch all that, or do I need to go over that with you again?”
The huge head nodded hastily, tugging on its arm. Emily released the skinny wrist, and the huge hand quickly withdrew underneath the covers.
“So you know how to nod, do you?” Emily asked, hands on hips now. “Why didn’t you do that before? You don’t need Dee for a simple yes or no answer. Let’s try this again—Would you like something to eat?” The huge head nodded.
“I’ll make you some food then,” Emily said, heading for the bedroom door. She paused, turning. “I meant what I said,” she said firmly. “Disturb one hair on her head, and you will answer to me. And I promise you, you will never be that unhappy again. Are we clear?” The head bobbed again.
Stepping into the hallway, Emily leaned against the wall once more and waited. A minute later, she peeked inside to see if the creature in the bed was behaving itself. It was. Dee was still sleeping peacefully, and the creature was motionless.
Perhaps I should move her? Emily thought, biting her lip. She could move Dee to her and David’s bedroom, or the guest bedroom, but doing so would surely wake her. No, she decided. David trusted the alien not to hurt their child, and she trusted her husband’s judgment, however bizarre that judgment may appear at the moment. She’d take her chances with Mr. Guard-the-King in there and see if he’d gotten the message.
And if he hadn’t? Well, Emily thought grimly as she descended the stairs to the kitchen, if he hadn’t, then she would personally see to it that Mr. Guard-the-King would regret the day he had so unwisely chosen to ignore her.
******************************************************
Chaves County Sheriff’s Station
Sheriff George Wilcox didn’t look up when he heard the door to his office open. He’d sent one of his deputies out to get his lunch while he stayed behind and tried to clean up the mess on his desk. Hopefully he’d be able to go home shortly and collapse for awhile; it had certainly been a busy night, and an even busier morning.
“Just put it on the desk, Deputy,” George said.
A loud thud announced the arrival of…..no, not the lunch. Looking up, George did not see the expected paper bag containing a ham sandwich with extra mayo. He saw a red sneaker, caked with what looked like black mud, laces firmly double-tied by an owner that clearly wanted that shoe to stay on their foot.
George opened his mouth to let loose when he noticed the deputy wasn’t his deputy. It took George a minute to place the eager beaver face in front of him. Deputy Valenti had been earnest and accommodating a few days ago when George had paid his call to the Roswell Sheriff’s Station, but now he looked downright smug. The gleam of triumph in his eyes was unmistakable.
And irritating. “Would you like to explain what the hell you think you’re doing?” George demanded.
Valenti hitched his thumbs in his belt and grinned broadly. “Seeing as I’m the one with the evidence, why don’t you go first.”
“Seeing as I’m about five seconds away from busting your ass, why don’t you go first?” George countered.
Valenti’s bravado appeared to falter a bit, but he said nothing.
“Allow me to clarify,” George said pointedly. “Start talking, and as soon as you’re finished, I’m placing a phone call to your boss. So talk now—while you’re still able.”
Valenti considered this a moment, and apparently decided he was already in trouble, so he may as well go for it. “You know what this is,” he announced, pointing at the muddy sneaker. “Don’t try to pretend you don’t.”
“Of course I know what it is,” George replied dryly. “It’s a sneaker. What did you think I was going to ‘pretend’ it was? A toaster?”
“You know where that came from,” Valenti accused.
“I do?”
“I saw you up on Pohlman Ranch this morning. Don’t even bother trying to deny it.”
“Why would I? And what does Pohlman Ranch have to do with a muddy sneaker?”
Valenti leaned forward, bracing his hands on the desk, and spoke slowly, as if George were quite thick. “At approximately 8:30 this morning, I observed a young girl, roughly ten years of age, jump from the craft that crashed on Pohlman Ranch wearing only one red sneaker. She ran through the crowd and up a nearby hill to three people at the top of that hill. One of those people was you, Sheriff Wilcox. I recognized your hat. I want to know who that child was, and what she was doing in that craft.”
George sat expressionless throughout this recital. He’d been Sheriff plenty long enough to know the number one rule of interrogation: Never give anything away unnecessarily. His face was placid, but inside he was churning like a blender set on high. The events of the morning were still a blur in his mind, but he did vaguely remember Mac saying something to David about soldiers having found one of Dee’s sneakers, and if he remembered correctly, she was wearing only one sneaker when she’d come out, shielded from view by whatever—or whoever—was in that ship. But how had Valenti seen her? “I guess we’re out of range,” David had said when George asked why he, Mac, and David could see her. Apparently they weren’t the only ones “out of range”.
“An interesting tale,” George deadpanned. “You’ve missed your calling. You really should write fiction.”
Valenti’s face clouded. “So you deny it?”
“You said this child who jumped out of the craft ran through the crowd up to me?”
“That’s right,” Valenti said firmly. “I saw it myself.”
George rocked to the side of his chair and looked pointedly behind Valenti. “Turn around, Deputy.”
Slowly, Valenti turned around.
“What do you see?”
Valenti flicked his eyes back and forth between George and the empty space behind as if that were a trick question. “Nothing. Why?”
“I was up at Pohlman Ranch this morning. I saw the damaged craft, and I also saw the dozens of soldiers out there. Tell me—how is that this child allegedly ran ‘through a crowd’, but no one saw her? If that were true, wouldn’t there be someone behind you? Someone to question me? Apparently no one else saw what you claim to have seen, because you’re here all by your lonesome.”
Valenti flushed a brilliant shade of red, showing George that he’d hit the nail right on the head. “I know what I saw!” Valenti objected. “I want the truth!”
“Yes, I guess you do want the truth,” George said evenly. “Apparently you want it bad enough to steal evidence from the scene of a military investigation. Do you have any idea what would happen to you if Captain Cavitt found out you’d taken this from the crash site? You not only wouldn’t be a deputy, you wouldn’t even be mopping floors at the station. If I were you, I’d put that shoe back before anyone else finds out you took it. Oh, and I’d also stop running around making baseless accusations on the basis of something you couldn’t possibly prove. That’s a good way to wreck your career.”
George and the deputy locked eyes for a long minute before Valenti capitulated. Picking up the sneaker, he fixed George with a hard stare. “I know what I saw, Sheriff. You’re hiding something. I’m going to get to the bottom of this if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Son, you try to ‘get to the bottom of this’ based on what you’ve just shown me, and it just might be the last thing you do—at least in the area of law enforcement,” George said firmly. “Pointing fingers without proof is shooting yourself in the foot. It looks bad on anyone, but especially on a man of the law. Wrecks your credibility. Credibility is law enforcement’s currency. Without credibility, you’re worthless.”
“Then I’ll get your proof,” Valenti said in a strained voice.
“You find proof, by all means come back,” George said. “In the meantime, save your butt and put that shoe back where you found it. Run along now. Shoo!”
George walked to his office door and watched Valenti leave the station. He moved to the window and made certain he drove away. Let’s hope there aren’t any more people ‘out of range’, he thought wearily. If there was even one more witness, his goose was cooked.
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
Lieutenant Yvonne White cast yet another nervous glance toward the two stretchers parked in the middle of the room. She’d been here for two hours now, locked inside and desperate to get out. She would have expected to find a swarm of doctors down here, but the regular base doctors had apparently been deemed insufficient for this task. A cadre of outside doctors was due to arrive later, and until then, she had orders to stay with the bodies and report any changes at once.
Changes? What kind of changes? She’d been told the creatures were dead, and she was inclined to agree: They did not appear to be breathing, had no discernable pulse, no detectable heartbeats… or detectable hearts, for that matter. No sign of life at all. She really didn’t see a nurse serving any useful purpose here. There was an MP right outside the door who could have called in any “changes”.
Yvonne rose from the desk where she’d been sitting and poured herself yet another cup of black coffee, noticing with embarrassment that her hands were shaking. Setting the cup down, she stared at her traitorous hands, willing them to be still. She was unsuccessful.
Who would have thought?, she wondered. Yvonne was no weakling. She had served in Army hospitals during the war, had seen injuries so horrific that nurses with less sturdy stomachs had retched, or quit altogether. She had supported men as they looked for the first time at the place where their leg or their arm used to be. She had prepared family members for the sight of a loved one who was no longer whole, and coaxed them back into the room after they ran away when they found themselves confronted with someone they did not recognize. This she did with a calm detachment and a quiet compassion which patients and their families found oddly comforting. She did it because she was good at it, and it needed to be done. She never threw up, gave up, or backed away. Why did she suddenly want to back away now?
Because those things aren’t human, she decided, trying to rationalize her feelings. No matter how bad the injuries she had helped treat, the patients were human. She felt nothing for the creatures lying on the stretchers in the middle of the room. She’d never seen them alive; it was hard to conjure up regret for their deaths.
The music blaring from the radio abruptly changed to opera. Wrinkling her nose in distaste, Yvonne rose, meaning to change to another station. She had turned on the radio earlier when the first body had arrived as a means of filling the oppressive silence. But as she walked toward the radio, she hesitated. The radio sat on a small table which had been quite isolated when the first body had been brought in. But when the second creature had arrived, the stretcher containing the first had been pushed closer to the table with the radio. She would have to walk right next to it in order to change the station. All of a sudden, opera didn’t sound so bad.
Don’t be such a idiot, she scolded herself severely. If she could assist in surgery in the middle of shelling, she could do this. If she could hold a leg while a surgeon cut it off, she could turn a simple dial on a radio.
With a confidence she did not feel, Yvonne walked to the table, staying as far away from the nearby stretcher as possible. She willed herself not to look at the small figure with the large head lying only inches away, as she reached for the dial and turned it. She just needed to find something other than opera. Anything other than opera. Under the circumstances it wouldn’t do to be fussy. She was lucky—there was a news program not far up the dial. That would do. She adjusted the tuning to clear up the crackling and turned to retreat to the safety of her desk and coffee cup.
Something grabbed her hand.
Yvonne looked down to find a gray hand with incredibly long fingers wrapped around her own. She opened her mouth to scream, but her voice had deserted her. There was only one thing that could be grabbing her hand: The thing that had no heart rate, no visible signs of life. Doesn’t matter, she thought. Her own heart rate had easily tripled, and was no doubt beating fast enough for both of them, and a few more besides.
The hand let go. Yvonne willed her feet to move, but they wouldn’t. She was frozen to the spot with shock, something that had never happened to her before, not even in all her time during the war. Those huge eyes were half open, coal black, with no pupils. And that huge gray hand, so out of proportion to the rest of the body, was rising. Rising, and….pointing. Pointing at……..
……the radio?
Unwilling to believe what she thought was happening, Yvonne traced an imaginary mental line between the end of that too-long finger and whatever it would have bumped into if had kept going. It had to be the radio. But what about the radio? She had just changed the station. Perhaps it liked opera?
The notion of a being from another planet enjoying opera was just too funny. Yvonne felt a laugh bubbling up, a semi-hysterical laugh, granted, but a laugh nonetheless. Anyone would think she was crazy, standing here rooted to the spot, laughing, and she might even be induced to agree with them. It still felt good to release the tension of the last few hours, and the incredible tension of the last couple of minutes.
Eventually she calmed down, wondering what the alien thought of her strange behavior, or if it even understood the concept of humor. The huge hand had fallen back to the stretcher, but it rose again as she quieted, pointing to—of course—the radio.
“You want me to change the station?” she asked uncertainly, feeling foolish talking to the skinny gray figure on the stretcher. It stared back at her, finger still pointed.
“Can you understand me?” she asked, wondering if the standard method for wounded soldiers who couldn’t speak would work here. It was worth a try. “Blink your eyes if you understand me. Once for ‘yes’, twice for ‘no’.”
Blink.
Yvonne gasped. She really hadn’t expected that to work. Intrigued now, she tried again. “Do you want me to change the station on the radio?”
Blink.
Yvonne reached for the tuning dial. What type of music did space aliens like to listen to? I’m about to find out, she thought, repressing another giggle. This whole situation was just too bizarre for words.
She moved to the next station, country-western by the sounds of it. “Is that what you wanted?”
BlinkBlink.
“No to country,” Yvonne muttered, moving the dial. The news report on the next station drew two blinks, as did the Bach concerto on the next. She whipped the dial back to the opera and received two more blinks. At least it had some taste. She thought back to what had been playing before the opera had started and started cruising the dial purposefully, finally finding what she wanted.
Blink
“Well, what do you know,” she said softly, watching the figure on the bed lower its hand. “Aliens like jazz.”
******************************************************
Pohlman Ranch
“What is it, Lieutenant?” Captain Cavitt snapped.
“Uh…sir…I think you’d better come have a look at this,” the lieutenant replied in a quavery voice.
Cavitt was about to retort when he noticed the soldier’s face was as white as a sheet. “You found more of them, didn’t you?” he asked eagerly. “More aliens?”
“We’re…we’re not sure,” the lieutenant said uncertainly.
“Not sure? How can you not be sure?” Cavitt asked impatiently. “They should be fairly easy to recognize, even for you.”
“We’re not sure what these are,” the lieutenant repeated, ignoring Cavitt’s insult. Anyone working for Cavitt was accustomed to being insulted. On a regular basis.
With a snort of exasperation, Cavitt took off toward the craft, the lieutenant scuttling in his wake. “Alive or dead?” he asked as he neared the hatch. “You can at least tell me that much, can’t you?”
The lieutenant’s mouth opened, then closed. “No sir,” he said at last. “We can’t.”
Cavitt sighed. “Give me that!” he ordered, snatching the soldier’s flashlight out of his hands. He hoisted himself up into the hatch. “Where are we going?”
“The room where Private Spade found the alien,” the lieutenant answered faintly. “We found what it was hiding.”
Cavitt’s eyes gleamed. “Lead the way.”
The lieutenant crawled past him and the two men moved, half crawling, half walking, down the circular hallway ringing the alien ship. When they reached the “hidden” room, as everyone was calling it, the lieutenant paused for just a moment before leading Cavitt past the nervous looking sentries posted outside and heading for the opposite side of the room, studiously ignoring the pools of alien blood on the floor.
“These appear to have been welded shut,” the lieutenant said, moving to one of several box-like containers. “Took us a while to get them open. And then when we did…..”
Pushing the soldier aside impatiently, Cavitt flung open the lid.
Light, pulsing light, filled the room. The Captain bent over the container, staring at its contents, his mouth open.
“Good Lord…..”
Kathy W--Shapeshifters Series--Completed Fics
Moderators: Anniepoo98, ISLANDGIRL5, Hunter, Forum Moderators
Part 42
PART FORTY-TWO
July 7, 1946, 6:30 p.m.
Proctor residence
Dee Proctor awoke to find herself lying on the hard window bench in her room, still covered with her grandmother’s afghan. The evening sun was sinking, and Brivari, awake and in human form, was sitting on the side of her bed, staring at her.
<Is the woman your mother?>
“Yes,” Dee answered groggily, a bit confused. He seemed to have recovered, and she was very glad to see him looking so much better, but she hadn’t expected her mother to be his first topic of conversation.
<You take after her.>
Uncertain as to how to take that statement, Dee decided to ignore it. Something else was on her mind.
“You’re leaving,” she said. He nodded.
Dee propped herself up on her elbow. “Are you all better?”
<I can’t wait any longer.>
“Be sure and take those with you,” she said, indicating the healing stones.
<I will.>
Dee sat up and looped her arms around her knees, looking out the window. She hadn’t delivered Valeris’s message yet. Brivari had been much too injured this morning, and they had both slept the rest of the day. She wasn’t looking forward to delivering it—Valeris had said he would be furious when he heard it, and even though she was feeling less uncomfortable around Brivari, she wasn’t in a hurry to see him furious, with her or anyone else. Perhaps he wasn’t as bad as he sounded, as Valeris had claimed, but he was still plenty intimidating.
But I don’t know if I’ll see him again, she thought, biting her lip. She should tell him now while she had the chance, even though it was the last thing she really wanted to do.
“I have a message from Valeris,” she said, deliberately keeping her gaze on the window.
Silence. Dee risked a peek sideways and found him staring at her intently.
<You were there?> She nodded. <What happened?>
“The soldiers came early,” she said in a small voice, a half whisper, really. She resumed staring out the window, knowing that if she watched his face while she told her story, she’d burst into tears. “Valeris broke their radios and took some of their guns away, but they managed to shoot him anyway. He….he killed two soldiers, and the others ran away. And then James showed up, and the two of us used the stones and fixed Valeris. James went to get you and….the other one, and then he got shot. And then it just kept getting worse.”
Dee paused for a moment because she was dangerously close to crying in spite of all her efforts not to. She hated crying in front of people. It made people think she was just a weepy girl, and she hated being thought of that way. She waited a moment until she was certain she could speak without her voice quavering.
“Valeris hid the room we were in from the soldiers. I tried to use the stones to fix James, and it worked a little bit, but not much. He just kept getting worse. I was afraid James was going to die, so I put him out where someone would find him. I thought maybe someone could help him.” She paused again, swallowing hard, still in a quandary about that decision. “Then Valeris told me he was too tired, that he couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t make the soldiers not see the room. So he made them not see me. I got away, and he was planning to surrender.” She wiped her nose. “I don’t know what happened after that.”
Brivari was silent a moment after this recital. <So,> he said softly. <You can use the stones. I am not surprised.>
“So what?” Dee said bitterly. “It didn’t do any good.”
<You tried,> Brivari pointed out, in what probably passed for a gentle tone for him. <And we don’t know for certain what happened to Urza and Valeris.>
Dee tore her gaze away from the window and stared at him in surprise. “You don’t know if they’re alive or not? Well, Urza they took away when he was still alive, but something must have happened with Valeris after I left. Don’t you know what happened?”
There was a long pause before he answered. <I do not.>
Darn. Dee looked back out the window, disappointed. She had been hoping he’d seen or heard something that would shed some light on Valeris’s fate.
“Do you want to hear the message?”
<No.>
“No?” Dee found herself disappointed, even though she wasn’t looking forward to delivering it. She wanted to get it over with.
<He can tell me himself when I find him.>
“What if he’s….what if he can’t tell you?” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word “dead”.
<Then you will deliver your message.>
“But…what if you don’t come back?”
<Then there will be no one to deliver the message to.>
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
Something stirred, and Yvonne White looked up from the book she was reading. The creature was moving again. No wonder. The radio program had changed yet again. Every time that happened that long, gray finger would rise, pointing toward the radio, and Yvonne would obligingly twirl the dial until she hit upon something acceptable. She knew nothing of its anatomy, physiology, or origins, but she did know its musical tastes. It preferred jazz or swing, with classical next on the list. It had rejected a Bach concerto earlier, but thirty minutes worth of Beethoven had been deemed suitable. Every time she successfully located appropriate music the finger would drop, the eyes would close, and it would lapse into what appeared to be unconsciousness once again.
But Yvonne had grown bolder over the course of the afternoon, and had taken to watching the creature carefully. Its respiration was so incredibly shallow as to be almost invisible, but if she watched closely, she could see the tiny chest rising and falling. She’d checked the other creature in a similar fashion, even gathering her courage to lay her hand lightly on its chest to detect even the slightest motion. But she had felt nothing; that one was dead, she was quite sure of that. It certainly should be, judging from the number of bullet wounds.
Yvonne had noticed something else as time had gone by: The wound in the live creature’s chest was growing smaller. At first she had thought she was imagining things. But then she began measuring the wound like any good nurse would, and it was definitely shrinking. The creature was healing itself, and the music seemed to facilitate that.
So she had continued to change the station whenever it asked, and continued to grow more and more worried about what she would say when someone inevitably asked, “Any changes to report?” She had escaped this query at lunchtime when one of the MP’s stationed outside her locked door had unceremoniously dropped a bag lunch on her desk and asked, “Anything you want to report?” She had hesitated, and finally answered, “No.” Because there wasn’t anything she wanted to report. That exercise in semantics bought her some precious time, time to think about how this should be handled.
Yvonne set her book on the desk and moved to the creature’s side. Its eyes were open, and she smiled as she reached for the radio dial. They had this down to a science. Six stations earned double eye blinks before it finally settled on more classical music. Usually it slid back into its semi-comatose state as soon as it had made its selection, but this time the gray finger rose again, this time pointing not to the radio, but to the body on the adjacent stretcher.
The smile fell from Yvonne’s face. She knew what it was asking. Unfortunately, this was familiar ground. How many times had she had to tell family members that their loved ones were dead? It was a strange task, one that growing accustomed to never made any easier.
“I’m sorry,” she said gently, from long practice. “It’s hard for me to tell because I’m not familiar with….your kind, but I’m fairly certain that one is dead.”
The huge hand hovered in the air at these words, then descended to cover the face in an unmistakable expression of grief. The head turned to look at the other one, and Yvonne suddenly felt very awkward. Those two obviously knew each other. Were they siblings? Colleagues? Mates?
Whatever their relationship, she suddenly felt as though she were intruding. Backing away to the safety of the desk, she sank into the chair and pondered once again what she would say when dinner arrived, as it would any minute now. Yvonne had never been one to withhold information, whether from her superiors, her patients, or her patient’s families. To her way of thinking, the truth was always better than a lie, no matter how hard that truth may be.
But now, in this incredible situation, Yvonne wasn’t so sure about that. She knew all too well what would happen if she reported that one of the creatures everyone thought were dead was, in fact, alive. Right now it was mercifully isolated in this room, healing itself and being left alone, but all that would change the moment she told the truth. Yvonne knew what they would do to it, and she wasn’t certain she could stand by and watch that happen to a being that liked music and grieved for its companion.
But if she waited, if she let the creature continue to heal itself and grow stronger, it might attack. Her compassion could conceivably cost lives in the future. There was no way to be certain.
A loud knock startled her from her reverie. No more time to ponder. She took a long look at the figures on the stretchers before smoothing her uniform and opening the door.
“Dinner,” the MP announced, handing her yet another paper bag. “Anything to report?”
Yvonne hesitated for just a moment before replying. “No, Sergeant. Nothing. No change.”
******************************************************
Proctor residence
David Proctor leaned against the wall outside his daughter’s bedroom, shamelessly eavesdropping on the conversation taking place inside. Eavesdropping on the half of it he could hear, at any rate. His daughter seemed to have such a personal relationship with these people. That was disturbing sometimes.
He moved to stand in the doorway after hearing Dee ask Brivari what would happen if he didn’t come back. That whole business about what had happened to Valeris—he didn’t want to get into that with her yet. She still had hope, and he wasn’t going to shatter that hope until he had no choice.
“Dee? Run down and see about helping your mother with dinner. It’s late. We slept through it.”
Dee obediently rose from the bench and headed downstairs, stopping on her way out to give him a hug. David held her tightly for a moment, kissing the top of her head before releasing her. She left with one long look back at their guest.
Brivari waited until her footsteps had died away on the stairs. “Do you always surreptitiously listen to your child’s conversations, David Proctor?”
David smiled in spite of himself. And here he’d thought he’d been so quiet. “No. Only sometimes.” He moved to the bench by the window recently vacated by Dee and sat down facing Brivari. “What about you? Did you ever ‘surreptitiously listen’ to your King’s conversations?”
To David’s complete surprise, Brivari actually smiled. It was the first time David had seen him display anything even remotely resembling good humor.
“Occasionally,” Brivari admitted. “Sometimes that was the only way to learn things. He was not always as forthcoming as he should have been,” he added, the smile fading.
“You blame him, don’t you? For what happened at home, I mean.”
“He was young and foolish,” Brivari said, shaking his head at the memory. “He thought he had the world at his feet.”
“From what James told me, he did. At least for a while.”
“He did not understand the sacrifices that were made to attain the peace he took for granted.”
“Of course he didn’t. None of us did when we were young,” David said, leaning back on the bench. “My father used to say that to me. He was in the great war, what we call World War I, and he always complained that I didn’t understand what it had been like for him. And I didn’t, of course. I couldn’t have. Not until I’d lived it myself.”
Brivari was silent, watching him.
“No doubt I’ll say that to my children: ‘You don’t know what it was like’,” David continued. “But isn’t that one of the reasons I fought, so they wouldn’t have to know what it was like? I never want what happened to me to happen to my children. I don’t want them to know what I know.”
“But without knowing, they are powerless to prevent it happening again.”
“They might be powerless anyway,” David mused. “Knowing doesn’t grant immunity.”
“Perhaps not,” Brivari agreed. “But knowing certainly raises the odds. Ignorance never does.”
“So—we fight so our children won’t have to,” David said slowly, “but in the process, we deprive them of the value of what was won, and leave them ignorant of similar situations in the future. That sounds like the beginnings of an argument for continued warfare.”
Brivari sighed, a deep, weary, very human sigh. He didn’t look the least bit alien, or aloof, or arrogant. Just tired—and sad. “I would be delighted if all I had to do was sit here and discuss philosophy with you. But I have other matters to attend to.”
David nodded, shifting uneasily on the bench. “I appreciate you not telling her what happened to Valeris.”
“You know?”
“I didn’t see it, but I heard it,” David said, looking away. “Dee still thinks that someone may have listened to him, just like she thinks someone may have helped James. She still believes.”
“So does Valeris,” Brivari said softly. “They have that in common.”
David studied the wistful look on the other’s face and had a sudden revelation. “You and Valeris were very close, weren’t you?”
The wistful look vanished, and the customary hard, wary look came back into Brivari’s eyes. He abruptly stood up. “I have to be going.”
“Look, I’m sorry,” David said, rising from the bench. Obviously he’d gotten too personal. “I didn’t mean to pry. I liked him too. I know how you feel.”
“No, you don’t,” Brivari said curtly.
David’s eyebrows rose. “Don’t I?” I know what it’s like to lose friends. And family. I know what it’s like to have my men captured. I know what it’s like to rescue them—or to fail in the attempt. You don’t really think your people have a monopoly on suffering, do you?”
David waited. Brivari’s eyes were flashing, but he was silent.
“I’ll answer that one for you—you don’t,” David continued firmly. “And if you thought otherwise, then perhaps we’re more alike than you realized. Or are willing to admit.”
Their eyes locked for a moment, Brivari bristling at David’s repetition of his own words. Still, Brivari was the first to avert his gaze. While that wasn’t exactly an admission that David was right, it would do.
“The Army base is northeast of here. That’s most likely where they’ve taken them, along with anything else from your ship. Good luck,” David said sincerely, heading for the door.
“Wait,” Brivari called. David turned.
“Convey my thanks to your mate,” Brivari said stiffly, in the tone of one unaccustomed to expressing gratitude. At least not to humans. “She would make a formidable Warder.”
David blinked. He had noticed the plate of leftover food and the empty coffee up on the bedside table. Dee didn’t drink coffee, so that meant Emily had been up here bearing gifts, and he could just imagine what might have happened between those two. They were both walking definitions of the word ‘stubborn’. He was kind of sorry he’d missed it.
“That’s quite a compliment, coming from you,” David replied with a small smile. “I’ll pass it along.”
He stepped out into the hallway and paused just long enough to hear the scrape of the window opening further, and the flapping of wings that gradually died away.
******************************************************
Pod Chamber
Jaddo flew into the pod chamber, finding it empty just as he had feared. He had been unable to find Brivari anywhere, despite hours of searching, and the situation had just worsened. The humans had found the sacs. He had watched helplessly as their Wards were heaved none too gently into the back of yet another truck, which was subsequently heavily guarded.
Leaning against the chamber wall, Jaddo allowed himself a precious minute of despair. He had flown back here hoping that Brivari had made it back, hoping for some assistance. But now one of his worst fears had been realized, and it was time to act. His best hope of recovering the sacs was to waylay the truck before it reached its destination. He was seriously exhausted from lack of sleep and constant shifting, but he would have to try.
He moved to the door and paused for a moment. My worst fear, he thought miserably. The others may have been surprised if he had told them his very worst fear. It wasn’t the loss of the sacs—that would be devastating, but they had more of those. No, his worst fear was a selfish one: He feared that the other three were dead. Which would mean that he was alone in this alien world, and the sole responsibility for the survival of their civilization rested on his shoulders.
July 7, 1946, 6:30 p.m.
Proctor residence
Dee Proctor awoke to find herself lying on the hard window bench in her room, still covered with her grandmother’s afghan. The evening sun was sinking, and Brivari, awake and in human form, was sitting on the side of her bed, staring at her.
<Is the woman your mother?>
“Yes,” Dee answered groggily, a bit confused. He seemed to have recovered, and she was very glad to see him looking so much better, but she hadn’t expected her mother to be his first topic of conversation.
<You take after her.>
Uncertain as to how to take that statement, Dee decided to ignore it. Something else was on her mind.
“You’re leaving,” she said. He nodded.
Dee propped herself up on her elbow. “Are you all better?”
<I can’t wait any longer.>
“Be sure and take those with you,” she said, indicating the healing stones.
<I will.>
Dee sat up and looped her arms around her knees, looking out the window. She hadn’t delivered Valeris’s message yet. Brivari had been much too injured this morning, and they had both slept the rest of the day. She wasn’t looking forward to delivering it—Valeris had said he would be furious when he heard it, and even though she was feeling less uncomfortable around Brivari, she wasn’t in a hurry to see him furious, with her or anyone else. Perhaps he wasn’t as bad as he sounded, as Valeris had claimed, but he was still plenty intimidating.
But I don’t know if I’ll see him again, she thought, biting her lip. She should tell him now while she had the chance, even though it was the last thing she really wanted to do.
“I have a message from Valeris,” she said, deliberately keeping her gaze on the window.
Silence. Dee risked a peek sideways and found him staring at her intently.
<You were there?> She nodded. <What happened?>
“The soldiers came early,” she said in a small voice, a half whisper, really. She resumed staring out the window, knowing that if she watched his face while she told her story, she’d burst into tears. “Valeris broke their radios and took some of their guns away, but they managed to shoot him anyway. He….he killed two soldiers, and the others ran away. And then James showed up, and the two of us used the stones and fixed Valeris. James went to get you and….the other one, and then he got shot. And then it just kept getting worse.”
Dee paused for a moment because she was dangerously close to crying in spite of all her efforts not to. She hated crying in front of people. It made people think she was just a weepy girl, and she hated being thought of that way. She waited a moment until she was certain she could speak without her voice quavering.
“Valeris hid the room we were in from the soldiers. I tried to use the stones to fix James, and it worked a little bit, but not much. He just kept getting worse. I was afraid James was going to die, so I put him out where someone would find him. I thought maybe someone could help him.” She paused again, swallowing hard, still in a quandary about that decision. “Then Valeris told me he was too tired, that he couldn’t do it anymore, couldn’t make the soldiers not see the room. So he made them not see me. I got away, and he was planning to surrender.” She wiped her nose. “I don’t know what happened after that.”
Brivari was silent a moment after this recital. <So,> he said softly. <You can use the stones. I am not surprised.>
“So what?” Dee said bitterly. “It didn’t do any good.”
<You tried,> Brivari pointed out, in what probably passed for a gentle tone for him. <And we don’t know for certain what happened to Urza and Valeris.>
Dee tore her gaze away from the window and stared at him in surprise. “You don’t know if they’re alive or not? Well, Urza they took away when he was still alive, but something must have happened with Valeris after I left. Don’t you know what happened?”
There was a long pause before he answered. <I do not.>
Darn. Dee looked back out the window, disappointed. She had been hoping he’d seen or heard something that would shed some light on Valeris’s fate.
“Do you want to hear the message?”
<No.>
“No?” Dee found herself disappointed, even though she wasn’t looking forward to delivering it. She wanted to get it over with.
<He can tell me himself when I find him.>
“What if he’s….what if he can’t tell you?” She couldn’t bring herself to say the word “dead”.
<Then you will deliver your message.>
“But…what if you don’t come back?”
<Then there will be no one to deliver the message to.>
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
Something stirred, and Yvonne White looked up from the book she was reading. The creature was moving again. No wonder. The radio program had changed yet again. Every time that happened that long, gray finger would rise, pointing toward the radio, and Yvonne would obligingly twirl the dial until she hit upon something acceptable. She knew nothing of its anatomy, physiology, or origins, but she did know its musical tastes. It preferred jazz or swing, with classical next on the list. It had rejected a Bach concerto earlier, but thirty minutes worth of Beethoven had been deemed suitable. Every time she successfully located appropriate music the finger would drop, the eyes would close, and it would lapse into what appeared to be unconsciousness once again.
But Yvonne had grown bolder over the course of the afternoon, and had taken to watching the creature carefully. Its respiration was so incredibly shallow as to be almost invisible, but if she watched closely, she could see the tiny chest rising and falling. She’d checked the other creature in a similar fashion, even gathering her courage to lay her hand lightly on its chest to detect even the slightest motion. But she had felt nothing; that one was dead, she was quite sure of that. It certainly should be, judging from the number of bullet wounds.
Yvonne had noticed something else as time had gone by: The wound in the live creature’s chest was growing smaller. At first she had thought she was imagining things. But then she began measuring the wound like any good nurse would, and it was definitely shrinking. The creature was healing itself, and the music seemed to facilitate that.
So she had continued to change the station whenever it asked, and continued to grow more and more worried about what she would say when someone inevitably asked, “Any changes to report?” She had escaped this query at lunchtime when one of the MP’s stationed outside her locked door had unceremoniously dropped a bag lunch on her desk and asked, “Anything you want to report?” She had hesitated, and finally answered, “No.” Because there wasn’t anything she wanted to report. That exercise in semantics bought her some precious time, time to think about how this should be handled.
Yvonne set her book on the desk and moved to the creature’s side. Its eyes were open, and she smiled as she reached for the radio dial. They had this down to a science. Six stations earned double eye blinks before it finally settled on more classical music. Usually it slid back into its semi-comatose state as soon as it had made its selection, but this time the gray finger rose again, this time pointing not to the radio, but to the body on the adjacent stretcher.
The smile fell from Yvonne’s face. She knew what it was asking. Unfortunately, this was familiar ground. How many times had she had to tell family members that their loved ones were dead? It was a strange task, one that growing accustomed to never made any easier.
“I’m sorry,” she said gently, from long practice. “It’s hard for me to tell because I’m not familiar with….your kind, but I’m fairly certain that one is dead.”
The huge hand hovered in the air at these words, then descended to cover the face in an unmistakable expression of grief. The head turned to look at the other one, and Yvonne suddenly felt very awkward. Those two obviously knew each other. Were they siblings? Colleagues? Mates?
Whatever their relationship, she suddenly felt as though she were intruding. Backing away to the safety of the desk, she sank into the chair and pondered once again what she would say when dinner arrived, as it would any minute now. Yvonne had never been one to withhold information, whether from her superiors, her patients, or her patient’s families. To her way of thinking, the truth was always better than a lie, no matter how hard that truth may be.
But now, in this incredible situation, Yvonne wasn’t so sure about that. She knew all too well what would happen if she reported that one of the creatures everyone thought were dead was, in fact, alive. Right now it was mercifully isolated in this room, healing itself and being left alone, but all that would change the moment she told the truth. Yvonne knew what they would do to it, and she wasn’t certain she could stand by and watch that happen to a being that liked music and grieved for its companion.
But if she waited, if she let the creature continue to heal itself and grow stronger, it might attack. Her compassion could conceivably cost lives in the future. There was no way to be certain.
A loud knock startled her from her reverie. No more time to ponder. She took a long look at the figures on the stretchers before smoothing her uniform and opening the door.
“Dinner,” the MP announced, handing her yet another paper bag. “Anything to report?”
Yvonne hesitated for just a moment before replying. “No, Sergeant. Nothing. No change.”
******************************************************
Proctor residence
David Proctor leaned against the wall outside his daughter’s bedroom, shamelessly eavesdropping on the conversation taking place inside. Eavesdropping on the half of it he could hear, at any rate. His daughter seemed to have such a personal relationship with these people. That was disturbing sometimes.
He moved to stand in the doorway after hearing Dee ask Brivari what would happen if he didn’t come back. That whole business about what had happened to Valeris—he didn’t want to get into that with her yet. She still had hope, and he wasn’t going to shatter that hope until he had no choice.
“Dee? Run down and see about helping your mother with dinner. It’s late. We slept through it.”
Dee obediently rose from the bench and headed downstairs, stopping on her way out to give him a hug. David held her tightly for a moment, kissing the top of her head before releasing her. She left with one long look back at their guest.
Brivari waited until her footsteps had died away on the stairs. “Do you always surreptitiously listen to your child’s conversations, David Proctor?”
David smiled in spite of himself. And here he’d thought he’d been so quiet. “No. Only sometimes.” He moved to the bench by the window recently vacated by Dee and sat down facing Brivari. “What about you? Did you ever ‘surreptitiously listen’ to your King’s conversations?”
To David’s complete surprise, Brivari actually smiled. It was the first time David had seen him display anything even remotely resembling good humor.
“Occasionally,” Brivari admitted. “Sometimes that was the only way to learn things. He was not always as forthcoming as he should have been,” he added, the smile fading.
“You blame him, don’t you? For what happened at home, I mean.”
“He was young and foolish,” Brivari said, shaking his head at the memory. “He thought he had the world at his feet.”
“From what James told me, he did. At least for a while.”
“He did not understand the sacrifices that were made to attain the peace he took for granted.”
“Of course he didn’t. None of us did when we were young,” David said, leaning back on the bench. “My father used to say that to me. He was in the great war, what we call World War I, and he always complained that I didn’t understand what it had been like for him. And I didn’t, of course. I couldn’t have. Not until I’d lived it myself.”
Brivari was silent, watching him.
“No doubt I’ll say that to my children: ‘You don’t know what it was like’,” David continued. “But isn’t that one of the reasons I fought, so they wouldn’t have to know what it was like? I never want what happened to me to happen to my children. I don’t want them to know what I know.”
“But without knowing, they are powerless to prevent it happening again.”
“They might be powerless anyway,” David mused. “Knowing doesn’t grant immunity.”
“Perhaps not,” Brivari agreed. “But knowing certainly raises the odds. Ignorance never does.”
“So—we fight so our children won’t have to,” David said slowly, “but in the process, we deprive them of the value of what was won, and leave them ignorant of similar situations in the future. That sounds like the beginnings of an argument for continued warfare.”
Brivari sighed, a deep, weary, very human sigh. He didn’t look the least bit alien, or aloof, or arrogant. Just tired—and sad. “I would be delighted if all I had to do was sit here and discuss philosophy with you. But I have other matters to attend to.”
David nodded, shifting uneasily on the bench. “I appreciate you not telling her what happened to Valeris.”
“You know?”
“I didn’t see it, but I heard it,” David said, looking away. “Dee still thinks that someone may have listened to him, just like she thinks someone may have helped James. She still believes.”
“So does Valeris,” Brivari said softly. “They have that in common.”
David studied the wistful look on the other’s face and had a sudden revelation. “You and Valeris were very close, weren’t you?”
The wistful look vanished, and the customary hard, wary look came back into Brivari’s eyes. He abruptly stood up. “I have to be going.”
“Look, I’m sorry,” David said, rising from the bench. Obviously he’d gotten too personal. “I didn’t mean to pry. I liked him too. I know how you feel.”
“No, you don’t,” Brivari said curtly.
David’s eyebrows rose. “Don’t I?” I know what it’s like to lose friends. And family. I know what it’s like to have my men captured. I know what it’s like to rescue them—or to fail in the attempt. You don’t really think your people have a monopoly on suffering, do you?”
David waited. Brivari’s eyes were flashing, but he was silent.
“I’ll answer that one for you—you don’t,” David continued firmly. “And if you thought otherwise, then perhaps we’re more alike than you realized. Or are willing to admit.”
Their eyes locked for a moment, Brivari bristling at David’s repetition of his own words. Still, Brivari was the first to avert his gaze. While that wasn’t exactly an admission that David was right, it would do.
“The Army base is northeast of here. That’s most likely where they’ve taken them, along with anything else from your ship. Good luck,” David said sincerely, heading for the door.
“Wait,” Brivari called. David turned.
“Convey my thanks to your mate,” Brivari said stiffly, in the tone of one unaccustomed to expressing gratitude. At least not to humans. “She would make a formidable Warder.”
David blinked. He had noticed the plate of leftover food and the empty coffee up on the bedside table. Dee didn’t drink coffee, so that meant Emily had been up here bearing gifts, and he could just imagine what might have happened between those two. They were both walking definitions of the word ‘stubborn’. He was kind of sorry he’d missed it.
“That’s quite a compliment, coming from you,” David replied with a small smile. “I’ll pass it along.”
He stepped out into the hallway and paused just long enough to hear the scrape of the window opening further, and the flapping of wings that gradually died away.
******************************************************
Pod Chamber
Jaddo flew into the pod chamber, finding it empty just as he had feared. He had been unable to find Brivari anywhere, despite hours of searching, and the situation had just worsened. The humans had found the sacs. He had watched helplessly as their Wards were heaved none too gently into the back of yet another truck, which was subsequently heavily guarded.
Leaning against the chamber wall, Jaddo allowed himself a precious minute of despair. He had flown back here hoping that Brivari had made it back, hoping for some assistance. But now one of his worst fears had been realized, and it was time to act. His best hope of recovering the sacs was to waylay the truck before it reached its destination. He was seriously exhausted from lack of sleep and constant shifting, but he would have to try.
He moved to the door and paused for a moment. My worst fear, he thought miserably. The others may have been surprised if he had told them his very worst fear. It wasn’t the loss of the sacs—that would be devastating, but they had more of those. No, his worst fear was a selfish one: He feared that the other three were dead. Which would mean that he was alone in this alien world, and the sole responsibility for the survival of their civilization rested on his shoulders.
Part 43
PART FORTY-THREE
July 7, 1947, 8 p.m.
Pohlman Ranch
Deputy Valenti smiled with satisfaction as he watched Captain Cavitt turn several interesting shades of purple. After a long, hot day spent fretting over this whole situation, Valenti had finally managed to make it back to the crash site to return the pilfered sneaker, only to find far more entertaining things happening. This little drama was just too good to miss. The shoe would have to wait.
The argument between Cavitt and one Betty Osorio, lady reporter, continued to climb the decibel ladder. Valenti let his gaze wander over the crash site and reflected that this was only likely to get worse—the cat was out of the bag. He’d already heard that Sheriff Wilcox had pulled in his men. Roadblocks no longer cut Pohlman Ranch off from the rest of the world, and Cavitt had been furious. Wilcox had reportedly told Cavitt that if he still wanted roadblocks, he could damn well man them himself. Valenti allowed himself a moment of grudging respect for Wilcox for standing up to Cavitt. Even though Wilcox was lying through his teeth about the girl, Valenti had to admire him for standing his ground.
So the road blocks had been dismantled, and now there were reporters out here. Reporters who did not belong to the Army, and who refused to be intimidated by Cavitt’s overbearing mien. Valenti grinned broadly as Miss Osorio planted her tidy heels in the desert sand and refused to budge. Fuming, Cavitt turned away, caught sight of Valenti, and marched straight for him. Oh good, Valenti thought. I’m going to enjoy this enormously.
“Deputy, remove this woman immediately,” Cavitt ordered.
“Evening, Captain,” Valenti replied pleasantly, tipping his hat. “I’m fine, thanks for asking. How are you?”
Wow. Valenti hadn’t realized there were that many distinct shades of purple. Cavitt’s face reminded him of one of those huge boxes of crayons with a dozen different variations of the same color. Someone really ought to notify Crayola. There were more variations on purple than even they had thought of.
“Don’t bullshit me, Deputy! I ordered you to remove this woman! Move!”
“Well now, there is a teeny tiny little problem with that,” Valenti replied casually. “As you so correctly pointed out earlier, this is not Roswell. Not my jurisdiction at all. You were absolutely right about that, Captain, and I thank you kindly for setting me straight.”
Green joined the purple on Cavitt’s face, which wasn’t a particularly pleasant color combination. “I’m making it your jurisdiction, Deputy. Now do as I say!” Cavitt’s voice sounded strained, as though someone were strangling him. Or perhaps he wanted to strangle someone else.
Valenti shook his head regretfully. “I’m so sorry, Captain, but you don’t have the authority to do that. We’re not all Army here, you know. If you want the lady removed, you’ll have to speak with Sheriff Wilcox.” Who won’t give you the time of day.
Cavitt’s eyeballs popped. He opened his mouth to let loose, but Valenti cut him off. “You might want to step in over there, Captain. The gentleman accompanying that lady reporter is taking pictures.”
Valenti smiled as Cavitt whipped around and scuttled away, obviously growing more and more hysterical as he felt his control slipping away. He watched as Cavitt pulled Colonel Cassidy into the fray, who in turn pulled a soldier away from a nearby truck. Apparently that hapless individual would be gifted with the task of removing Miss Betty Osorio. Lucky him.
And lucky me. That recently vacated truck was just what Valenti had been looking for. He moved quickly through the crowd, his uniform protecting him from suspicion from soldiers who were now alarmed about the civilians showing up. All he had to do was toss the shoe inside, and he’d be done.
Valenti reached the truck and quietly unlatched the back door. Nudging it open, he reached for the sneaker inside his jacket pocket. It would be dark in there, but if he could manage to see anything near the door, he might be able to land it inside a box.
But to his surprise, the interior of the truck wasn’t dark at all. Something was glowing inside the truck, and as Valenti pulled the door open a little wider, he was astonished to find out what: Large glowing lumps, pulsing as they glowed. What were those things? He pushed his head inside the opening and peered more closely.
“What’dya think you’re doing?”
Valenti jerked his head out, slammed the door shut, and shoved the sneaker back into his pocket in one smooth movement.
“The door was open,” he lied to the suspicious corporal standing beside him, trying to keep his voice steady. “I just didn’t want anyone pawing through….anything.”
The corporal eyed him up and down. “Uh huh. And I’m Bob Hope. Stay outa there. I’m supposed to be guarding this truck. While I’m not playing policeman, that is,” he added darkly. He stopped and stared at Valenti a moment. “Say, aren’t you that Sheriff’s deputy that was up here earlier? Why aren’t you rounding up the reporters? Why do we hafta do it? We’re soldiers, not cops.”
“I’m a Roswell deputy,” Valenti replied. “If Cavitt wants cops, he should talk to Sheriff Wilcox.”
The corporal, one “Smith” according to his name tag, scowled. “Wilcox was up here a little while ago having it out with Cavitt. He pulled all his men off the roadblocks. Said he’d done without them all day, and enough was enough. Probably has a point. This morning he was up here with a temporary deputy because he was so low on men.”
Valenti’s ears pricked. “Temporary deputy?”
“Friend of his from town, I guess,” Smith replied. “Guy sure asked a lot of questions for a temporary deputy, if you ask me.”
“What was this temporary deputy’s name?” Valenti asked casually.
“How the hell should I know? I don’t work for Wilcox.”
“Could you find out?”
Smith’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Just curious,” Valenti shrugged.
“Uh huh,” Smith repeated, unconvinced. He looked around at the throng. “What’s in it for me?”
Valenti considered a moment. “Tell you what. You get me the name of that ‘temporary deputy’, and I’ll take care of the lady reporter.”
Smith scowled. “Only the lady? She’s the easy one. What about the rest of’em?”
Valenti smiled. From what he’d seen of Miss Betty Osorio, she was likely to dig her pretty painted nails into the desert sand as they dragged her away, leaving scratch marks a mile long. Easy, my foot.
“You want me to do more, you’ll have to do more,” Valenti told Smith. “Get me the name of the temporary deputy, where he lives, and whether or not he has any kids. And their genders and ages. For that, I’ll police this whole damned state.”
“Why’dya wanna know all that? You could just go ask at the sheriff’s station, or ask around in town.”
“That’s my price. Take it or leave it.”
“No problem,” Smith answered, shrugging. “Beats knocking reporters around any day. Come back in a coupla hours. That should be long enough.”
“Right,” Valenti said, smiling as they shook on it.
Valenti walked away, hoping that by the time he was done here he’d be a little closer to the truth without tipping Wilcox off that he was still poking around. He still had the shoe in his pocket, and he decided to toss it in his cruiser before having his run in with the reporters. No one was likely to miss it anyway. They’d probably be far more interested in those glowing lumps in the back of that truck.
Valenti felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle uncomfortably as he remembered his fleeting glimpse of those lumps. For just a moment there, he’d thought he’d seen….no. Couldn’t have been. He must have been imaging things.
For just a moment when he’d been looking at the nearest lump, he could have sworn he’d seen something move.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Corporal Smith stood beside the troop truck, watching with satisfaction as the Roswell Deputy led away the lady reporter. Well, perhaps “led away” was a not a fitting description. “Dragged away” was more like it. God, she’s built like a brick outhouse, Smith thought admiringly. In retrospect, dragging her away might have had some advantages.
Then he noticed the knot of male reporters queuing up behind Miss Osorio, and was suddenly grateful for the deal he’d just made. He had no idea why that deputy wanted the information he’d asked for, and he didn’t much care. Heck, he’d get the guy’s height, weight, high school transcript, and favorite color if it meant he didn’t have to play cop to a bunch of annoying civilians.
Not that the Army was much better. Smith couldn’t wait to get away from the crash site, away from the weird things found and the weird things happening out here. He climbed into the driver’s seat, wondering again just what was so special about this truck that it merited its own guard. Whatever was inside must be pretty important. They’d want this baby moved soon, and when they did, he meant to be here. All he needed was orders.
Which it appeared he wouldn’t be getting. Smith frowned as he watched Captain Cavitt head for two newly arrived captains, flyboys from the airfield by the looks of them. His frown turned to a scowl as he saw Cavitt point toward the very truck he was sitting in, and the captains begin moving toward him. Damn! Now he’d never get out of here. And now he really wanted to know what was in this truck that was so important it had to be entrusted to two captains instead of one corporal.
“Are you Corporal Smith?” asked one of the captains as they approached. His name tag read “Carver”.
“Yes, sir,” Smith replied, still scowling, knowing what was coming.
“We’ve been ordered to drive this truck to the base,” announced the other captain, one “Dodie”. “We need the keys.”
Smith sighed and reluctantly got out of the truck. It looked like he was going to be stuck here for awhile longer. He held up the keys, noticing that both captains reached for them, but Carver got there first. Carver grinned; Dodie frowned. “Thank you, Corporal,” Carver said pleasantly. “That’ll be all.”
Smith watched Carver and Dodie climb into what had been his escape route. “I’m telling you Dodie, the legs and the voice go together. Great voice, great legs. You can count on it, just like death and taxes.”
“Shut up, Hal,” Dodie said.
They drove off, leaving Smith watching disconsolately. No one noticed the hawk that took flight, following them as they drove north.
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
Private Spade yawned and plopped the magazine he’d been reading down on the floor. He stood up and stretched. He’d been sitting for an hour now, and stretching felt good. Moving to the door, he peeked out the window at the MP seated outside. I must be pretty important, he thought sardonically. I merit my very own guard.
His cell was a 15 x 15 foot room at the Army base. Perhaps calling it a “cell” was a bit unfair. Cavitt had been quite clear that he wasn’t under arrest, he was merely being given time “to think things over”. Apparently Cavitt was under the impression that locking a soldier in a guarded room even though he wasn’t under arrest facilitated the thinking process. Spade made a mental note to add that to the ever-growing list of things that Cavitt was dead wrong about.
The fun had started earlier that afternoon at the crash site, as Cavitt had pushed a piece of paper across a folding table toward Spade and bade him sign it. The document was a fictional account of what had happened between Spade and the alien, complete with alien threats, an alien attack, and Spade fainting from the stress. After reading this incredible construct, Spade had cast a piercing look at Woods, standing beside Cavitt with his head bowed. Woods wouldn’t even look at him.
“I don’t blame you for not looking at me, Woods,” Spade said in a stony voice. “If I were lying through my teeth, I wouldn’t be able to hold my head up either.”
Woods turned scarlet and kept his head down. Cavitt’s lips became even thinner, if that was possible. “Private Woods has already signed this document,” Cavitt pointed out rather unnecessarily.
“I don’t care if he signed it,” Spade shot back. “I don’t care if he doodled on it, colored it, or made it into a paper airplane; it’s still a pack of lies. The only truth in this thing is that there was an alien, and Woods and I saw it. As for the part about you, you’d be better off sprouting wings and trying to pass yourself off as Tinkerbelle—Sir,” Spade added, voice dripping sarcasm.
Woods’s eyes flickered up and threw him a warning glance—Don’t mess with him, it said. Don’t mess with me, said the glare Spade threw back. It was bad enough having a jackass like Cavitt engage in bald-faced lying, but when your own buddies did it, that was even worse.
But then came the best part, the piece de resistance. Ignoring Spade’s outburst, Cavitt shoved yet another document across the table, and this one was even wilder. In this new alternate universe, Fifer and McCarthy had died not at the hands of an alien, but in a jeep accident. Spade went white as he read this latest fabrication, which had already been signed by the one other witness to the morning’s events, Pfc. Belmont. Cavitt was obviously on a role.
It was time to end that role.
“I’m not signing this.”
“Why not?”
“You know perfectly well why not. That’s not what happened.”
Cavitt sighed. “Of course that’s not what happened, Private,” he said in a weary tone, speaking slowly as though Spade were an imbecile. “What would you have me tell their parents?”
“Here’s an idea—how about the truth?”
“You want me to tell them their sons were killed by aliens?” Cavitt chuckled, as though Spade had said something funny. “They’d never believe it. They’d accuse me of making up such a crackpot story. This they’ll believe.”
“They’d believe the truth if you presented them with the evidence,” Spade countered.
“What evidence?”
“The ship, of course. And the aliens’ bodies.”
Cavitt’s eyes widened, and a small smile spread across his lips. “What ship?” he asked, in a tone of complete innocence. “What bodies?”
So. That’s how this is going down, Spade had thought grimly. They were going to try to hide this, all of it. And he was expected to stand by the flag and smile as lie after lie was paraded in front of him, not to mention his fellow soldiers’ families. The Army. The country. Everyone. The only problem was that flag stood for truth, not lies. And so, Spade decided, did he.
He had refused to sign either of Cavitt’s works of fiction, upon which he had been unceremoniously escorted from the crash site and deposited in this room to “think it over”. Spade had obediently thought it over, and decided he had Cavitt over a barrel of sorts. The higher-ups would be heavily debriefing anyone who’d had direct contact with the aliens, and that included Spade. It would look bad for Cavitt if Spade’s story was wildly different from his own.
Good, Spade thought with grim satisfaction, as he paced the small room. If Cavitt wanted to play chicken, he was game. Besides, being in here wasn’t so bad. It was a hell of a lot cooler in here than out there, and he didn’t have to keep walking by the spot where his buddies had fallen. He hadn’t known McCarthy well, but he had seemed a decent fellow. Fifer was a “booster”, one of those people who would gladly stomp everyone in front of him into dust if it meant he would get ahead. That tended to affect his judgment, as it had today. But even booster’s families deserved the truth when their children died. Anything less was just indecent.
Spade gave a wry smile as he thought of Fifer’s likely reaction if only he could see what was happening. Fifer had charged that ship because he wanted credit for discovering it. He’d been the first to die for discovering it, but the Army didn’t even want to give him that much credit. He wouldn’t even get “killed by a space alien” on his tombstone; “killed in a jeep accident” was all they would give him. He’d probably come back and haunt them. Which wasn’t such a bad idea, as long as he picked the right people to haunt.
Squatting down, Spade sifted through the pile of magazines on the floor. He’d read them all, and he needed to pee. Time to get the MP out there off his butt and working.
“You don’t have identification?” The MP’s voice drifted through the door.
Silence. “I need your ID,” came the guard’s exasperated voice again. “And your orders.”
Spade straightened up and moved toward the window. Watching some poor sap who’d forgotten his ID getting chewed out wasn’t exactly fascinating, but he was hard up for entertainment.
Then he jumped as something hit the door—hard. Spade pressed his face against the glass, trying to see what was going on. But the window was small, the angle of view narrow, and he couldn’t see much. He heard scuffling sounds, a strangled cry, then silence.
Staring out the window, Spade waited. He saw no one; no guards, no soldiers. That was weird. What the hell was going on? He moved his head this way and that trying to get a wider view, with no luck. Perhaps standing on the chair would help. He was just about to get the chair when something slid into view on the floor outside the door.
It was the MP. Emblazoned on his chest was a silver handprint.
Spade’s heart started pounding. “Hey! Anybody! Hey!” he yelled, banging on the door with both hands. “We need some help here! There’s a man down! We need….”
But his voice died in his throat as a man came into view, an unfamiliar man who wore a uniform just like the dead guard. The man stepped up to the window, nose to nose with Spade with only the glass between them, and for just a moment, his eyes went completely, utterly black.
Spade took a shaky step back. “Oh, shit!”
July 7, 1947, 8 p.m.
Pohlman Ranch
Deputy Valenti smiled with satisfaction as he watched Captain Cavitt turn several interesting shades of purple. After a long, hot day spent fretting over this whole situation, Valenti had finally managed to make it back to the crash site to return the pilfered sneaker, only to find far more entertaining things happening. This little drama was just too good to miss. The shoe would have to wait.
The argument between Cavitt and one Betty Osorio, lady reporter, continued to climb the decibel ladder. Valenti let his gaze wander over the crash site and reflected that this was only likely to get worse—the cat was out of the bag. He’d already heard that Sheriff Wilcox had pulled in his men. Roadblocks no longer cut Pohlman Ranch off from the rest of the world, and Cavitt had been furious. Wilcox had reportedly told Cavitt that if he still wanted roadblocks, he could damn well man them himself. Valenti allowed himself a moment of grudging respect for Wilcox for standing up to Cavitt. Even though Wilcox was lying through his teeth about the girl, Valenti had to admire him for standing his ground.
So the road blocks had been dismantled, and now there were reporters out here. Reporters who did not belong to the Army, and who refused to be intimidated by Cavitt’s overbearing mien. Valenti grinned broadly as Miss Osorio planted her tidy heels in the desert sand and refused to budge. Fuming, Cavitt turned away, caught sight of Valenti, and marched straight for him. Oh good, Valenti thought. I’m going to enjoy this enormously.
“Deputy, remove this woman immediately,” Cavitt ordered.
“Evening, Captain,” Valenti replied pleasantly, tipping his hat. “I’m fine, thanks for asking. How are you?”
Wow. Valenti hadn’t realized there were that many distinct shades of purple. Cavitt’s face reminded him of one of those huge boxes of crayons with a dozen different variations of the same color. Someone really ought to notify Crayola. There were more variations on purple than even they had thought of.
“Don’t bullshit me, Deputy! I ordered you to remove this woman! Move!”
“Well now, there is a teeny tiny little problem with that,” Valenti replied casually. “As you so correctly pointed out earlier, this is not Roswell. Not my jurisdiction at all. You were absolutely right about that, Captain, and I thank you kindly for setting me straight.”
Green joined the purple on Cavitt’s face, which wasn’t a particularly pleasant color combination. “I’m making it your jurisdiction, Deputy. Now do as I say!” Cavitt’s voice sounded strained, as though someone were strangling him. Or perhaps he wanted to strangle someone else.
Valenti shook his head regretfully. “I’m so sorry, Captain, but you don’t have the authority to do that. We’re not all Army here, you know. If you want the lady removed, you’ll have to speak with Sheriff Wilcox.” Who won’t give you the time of day.
Cavitt’s eyeballs popped. He opened his mouth to let loose, but Valenti cut him off. “You might want to step in over there, Captain. The gentleman accompanying that lady reporter is taking pictures.”
Valenti smiled as Cavitt whipped around and scuttled away, obviously growing more and more hysterical as he felt his control slipping away. He watched as Cavitt pulled Colonel Cassidy into the fray, who in turn pulled a soldier away from a nearby truck. Apparently that hapless individual would be gifted with the task of removing Miss Betty Osorio. Lucky him.
And lucky me. That recently vacated truck was just what Valenti had been looking for. He moved quickly through the crowd, his uniform protecting him from suspicion from soldiers who were now alarmed about the civilians showing up. All he had to do was toss the shoe inside, and he’d be done.
Valenti reached the truck and quietly unlatched the back door. Nudging it open, he reached for the sneaker inside his jacket pocket. It would be dark in there, but if he could manage to see anything near the door, he might be able to land it inside a box.
But to his surprise, the interior of the truck wasn’t dark at all. Something was glowing inside the truck, and as Valenti pulled the door open a little wider, he was astonished to find out what: Large glowing lumps, pulsing as they glowed. What were those things? He pushed his head inside the opening and peered more closely.
“What’dya think you’re doing?”
Valenti jerked his head out, slammed the door shut, and shoved the sneaker back into his pocket in one smooth movement.
“The door was open,” he lied to the suspicious corporal standing beside him, trying to keep his voice steady. “I just didn’t want anyone pawing through….anything.”
The corporal eyed him up and down. “Uh huh. And I’m Bob Hope. Stay outa there. I’m supposed to be guarding this truck. While I’m not playing policeman, that is,” he added darkly. He stopped and stared at Valenti a moment. “Say, aren’t you that Sheriff’s deputy that was up here earlier? Why aren’t you rounding up the reporters? Why do we hafta do it? We’re soldiers, not cops.”
“I’m a Roswell deputy,” Valenti replied. “If Cavitt wants cops, he should talk to Sheriff Wilcox.”
The corporal, one “Smith” according to his name tag, scowled. “Wilcox was up here a little while ago having it out with Cavitt. He pulled all his men off the roadblocks. Said he’d done without them all day, and enough was enough. Probably has a point. This morning he was up here with a temporary deputy because he was so low on men.”
Valenti’s ears pricked. “Temporary deputy?”
“Friend of his from town, I guess,” Smith replied. “Guy sure asked a lot of questions for a temporary deputy, if you ask me.”
“What was this temporary deputy’s name?” Valenti asked casually.
“How the hell should I know? I don’t work for Wilcox.”
“Could you find out?”
Smith’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Just curious,” Valenti shrugged.
“Uh huh,” Smith repeated, unconvinced. He looked around at the throng. “What’s in it for me?”
Valenti considered a moment. “Tell you what. You get me the name of that ‘temporary deputy’, and I’ll take care of the lady reporter.”
Smith scowled. “Only the lady? She’s the easy one. What about the rest of’em?”
Valenti smiled. From what he’d seen of Miss Betty Osorio, she was likely to dig her pretty painted nails into the desert sand as they dragged her away, leaving scratch marks a mile long. Easy, my foot.
“You want me to do more, you’ll have to do more,” Valenti told Smith. “Get me the name of the temporary deputy, where he lives, and whether or not he has any kids. And their genders and ages. For that, I’ll police this whole damned state.”
“Why’dya wanna know all that? You could just go ask at the sheriff’s station, or ask around in town.”
“That’s my price. Take it or leave it.”
“No problem,” Smith answered, shrugging. “Beats knocking reporters around any day. Come back in a coupla hours. That should be long enough.”
“Right,” Valenti said, smiling as they shook on it.
Valenti walked away, hoping that by the time he was done here he’d be a little closer to the truth without tipping Wilcox off that he was still poking around. He still had the shoe in his pocket, and he decided to toss it in his cruiser before having his run in with the reporters. No one was likely to miss it anyway. They’d probably be far more interested in those glowing lumps in the back of that truck.
Valenti felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle uncomfortably as he remembered his fleeting glimpse of those lumps. For just a moment there, he’d thought he’d seen….no. Couldn’t have been. He must have been imaging things.
For just a moment when he’d been looking at the nearest lump, he could have sworn he’d seen something move.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Corporal Smith stood beside the troop truck, watching with satisfaction as the Roswell Deputy led away the lady reporter. Well, perhaps “led away” was a not a fitting description. “Dragged away” was more like it. God, she’s built like a brick outhouse, Smith thought admiringly. In retrospect, dragging her away might have had some advantages.
Then he noticed the knot of male reporters queuing up behind Miss Osorio, and was suddenly grateful for the deal he’d just made. He had no idea why that deputy wanted the information he’d asked for, and he didn’t much care. Heck, he’d get the guy’s height, weight, high school transcript, and favorite color if it meant he didn’t have to play cop to a bunch of annoying civilians.
Not that the Army was much better. Smith couldn’t wait to get away from the crash site, away from the weird things found and the weird things happening out here. He climbed into the driver’s seat, wondering again just what was so special about this truck that it merited its own guard. Whatever was inside must be pretty important. They’d want this baby moved soon, and when they did, he meant to be here. All he needed was orders.
Which it appeared he wouldn’t be getting. Smith frowned as he watched Captain Cavitt head for two newly arrived captains, flyboys from the airfield by the looks of them. His frown turned to a scowl as he saw Cavitt point toward the very truck he was sitting in, and the captains begin moving toward him. Damn! Now he’d never get out of here. And now he really wanted to know what was in this truck that was so important it had to be entrusted to two captains instead of one corporal.
“Are you Corporal Smith?” asked one of the captains as they approached. His name tag read “Carver”.
“Yes, sir,” Smith replied, still scowling, knowing what was coming.
“We’ve been ordered to drive this truck to the base,” announced the other captain, one “Dodie”. “We need the keys.”
Smith sighed and reluctantly got out of the truck. It looked like he was going to be stuck here for awhile longer. He held up the keys, noticing that both captains reached for them, but Carver got there first. Carver grinned; Dodie frowned. “Thank you, Corporal,” Carver said pleasantly. “That’ll be all.”
Smith watched Carver and Dodie climb into what had been his escape route. “I’m telling you Dodie, the legs and the voice go together. Great voice, great legs. You can count on it, just like death and taxes.”
“Shut up, Hal,” Dodie said.
They drove off, leaving Smith watching disconsolately. No one noticed the hawk that took flight, following them as they drove north.
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
Private Spade yawned and plopped the magazine he’d been reading down on the floor. He stood up and stretched. He’d been sitting for an hour now, and stretching felt good. Moving to the door, he peeked out the window at the MP seated outside. I must be pretty important, he thought sardonically. I merit my very own guard.
His cell was a 15 x 15 foot room at the Army base. Perhaps calling it a “cell” was a bit unfair. Cavitt had been quite clear that he wasn’t under arrest, he was merely being given time “to think things over”. Apparently Cavitt was under the impression that locking a soldier in a guarded room even though he wasn’t under arrest facilitated the thinking process. Spade made a mental note to add that to the ever-growing list of things that Cavitt was dead wrong about.
The fun had started earlier that afternoon at the crash site, as Cavitt had pushed a piece of paper across a folding table toward Spade and bade him sign it. The document was a fictional account of what had happened between Spade and the alien, complete with alien threats, an alien attack, and Spade fainting from the stress. After reading this incredible construct, Spade had cast a piercing look at Woods, standing beside Cavitt with his head bowed. Woods wouldn’t even look at him.
“I don’t blame you for not looking at me, Woods,” Spade said in a stony voice. “If I were lying through my teeth, I wouldn’t be able to hold my head up either.”
Woods turned scarlet and kept his head down. Cavitt’s lips became even thinner, if that was possible. “Private Woods has already signed this document,” Cavitt pointed out rather unnecessarily.
“I don’t care if he signed it,” Spade shot back. “I don’t care if he doodled on it, colored it, or made it into a paper airplane; it’s still a pack of lies. The only truth in this thing is that there was an alien, and Woods and I saw it. As for the part about you, you’d be better off sprouting wings and trying to pass yourself off as Tinkerbelle—Sir,” Spade added, voice dripping sarcasm.
Woods’s eyes flickered up and threw him a warning glance—Don’t mess with him, it said. Don’t mess with me, said the glare Spade threw back. It was bad enough having a jackass like Cavitt engage in bald-faced lying, but when your own buddies did it, that was even worse.
But then came the best part, the piece de resistance. Ignoring Spade’s outburst, Cavitt shoved yet another document across the table, and this one was even wilder. In this new alternate universe, Fifer and McCarthy had died not at the hands of an alien, but in a jeep accident. Spade went white as he read this latest fabrication, which had already been signed by the one other witness to the morning’s events, Pfc. Belmont. Cavitt was obviously on a role.
It was time to end that role.
“I’m not signing this.”
“Why not?”
“You know perfectly well why not. That’s not what happened.”
Cavitt sighed. “Of course that’s not what happened, Private,” he said in a weary tone, speaking slowly as though Spade were an imbecile. “What would you have me tell their parents?”
“Here’s an idea—how about the truth?”
“You want me to tell them their sons were killed by aliens?” Cavitt chuckled, as though Spade had said something funny. “They’d never believe it. They’d accuse me of making up such a crackpot story. This they’ll believe.”
“They’d believe the truth if you presented them with the evidence,” Spade countered.
“What evidence?”
“The ship, of course. And the aliens’ bodies.”
Cavitt’s eyes widened, and a small smile spread across his lips. “What ship?” he asked, in a tone of complete innocence. “What bodies?”
So. That’s how this is going down, Spade had thought grimly. They were going to try to hide this, all of it. And he was expected to stand by the flag and smile as lie after lie was paraded in front of him, not to mention his fellow soldiers’ families. The Army. The country. Everyone. The only problem was that flag stood for truth, not lies. And so, Spade decided, did he.
He had refused to sign either of Cavitt’s works of fiction, upon which he had been unceremoniously escorted from the crash site and deposited in this room to “think it over”. Spade had obediently thought it over, and decided he had Cavitt over a barrel of sorts. The higher-ups would be heavily debriefing anyone who’d had direct contact with the aliens, and that included Spade. It would look bad for Cavitt if Spade’s story was wildly different from his own.
Good, Spade thought with grim satisfaction, as he paced the small room. If Cavitt wanted to play chicken, he was game. Besides, being in here wasn’t so bad. It was a hell of a lot cooler in here than out there, and he didn’t have to keep walking by the spot where his buddies had fallen. He hadn’t known McCarthy well, but he had seemed a decent fellow. Fifer was a “booster”, one of those people who would gladly stomp everyone in front of him into dust if it meant he would get ahead. That tended to affect his judgment, as it had today. But even booster’s families deserved the truth when their children died. Anything less was just indecent.
Spade gave a wry smile as he thought of Fifer’s likely reaction if only he could see what was happening. Fifer had charged that ship because he wanted credit for discovering it. He’d been the first to die for discovering it, but the Army didn’t even want to give him that much credit. He wouldn’t even get “killed by a space alien” on his tombstone; “killed in a jeep accident” was all they would give him. He’d probably come back and haunt them. Which wasn’t such a bad idea, as long as he picked the right people to haunt.
Squatting down, Spade sifted through the pile of magazines on the floor. He’d read them all, and he needed to pee. Time to get the MP out there off his butt and working.
“You don’t have identification?” The MP’s voice drifted through the door.
Silence. “I need your ID,” came the guard’s exasperated voice again. “And your orders.”
Spade straightened up and moved toward the window. Watching some poor sap who’d forgotten his ID getting chewed out wasn’t exactly fascinating, but he was hard up for entertainment.
Then he jumped as something hit the door—hard. Spade pressed his face against the glass, trying to see what was going on. But the window was small, the angle of view narrow, and he couldn’t see much. He heard scuffling sounds, a strangled cry, then silence.
Staring out the window, Spade waited. He saw no one; no guards, no soldiers. That was weird. What the hell was going on? He moved his head this way and that trying to get a wider view, with no luck. Perhaps standing on the chair would help. He was just about to get the chair when something slid into view on the floor outside the door.
It was the MP. Emblazoned on his chest was a silver handprint.
Spade’s heart started pounding. “Hey! Anybody! Hey!” he yelled, banging on the door with both hands. “We need some help here! There’s a man down! We need….”
But his voice died in his throat as a man came into view, an unfamiliar man who wore a uniform just like the dead guard. The man stepped up to the window, nose to nose with Spade with only the glass between them, and for just a moment, his eyes went completely, utterly black.
Spade took a shaky step back. “Oh, shit!”
Part 44
PART FORTY-FOUR
July 7, 1947, 2200 hours
Eagle Rock Military Base
Private Spade cast a frantic glance around the room in which he was locked. There was no other way out; no heating ducts, no windows. When he looked back to the window in the door, the man’s eyes were normal, but Spade knew very well that was no normal man outside his door.
He glanced down at the door handle, thanking his lucky stars that the door was locked. That….thing would have to leave the window to get the keys off the body of the MP, and when it did, Spade would have to find something to defend himself with. He stepped back from the door, looking wildly around the tiny room for anything that would serve as a weapon.
Click.
The door swung slowly open. How did he do that? The face hadn’t left the window for so much as an instant. As the door opened fully, the body of the guard came into view. His keys were still attached to his belt.
The figure in the doorway was silent, impassive. It looked completely human, dressed in an MP’s uniform minus the helmet and, inexplicably, minus the gun. Perhaps they didn’t need weapons? Spade knew they could hide themselves from prying eyes and kill with a touch. What else could they do?
Spade swallowed hard. He was probably about to find out.
The silence was oppressive. Neither of them moved. Spade was breathing heavily, poised for flight. The figure in the doorway regarded him with deadly calm. Obviously it knew who had the upper hand here, and that wasn’t the sweating Army Private standing in front of it. It took a step forward…..
….and limped. Slightly. Spade noticed the hesitation in the left leg, and realized with horror that this was the alien he had used for a baseball.
“Did….did you come all the way in here just for me?” Spade asked, finding it hard to believe the alien would risk exposure in a military base just for revenge.
“Don’t flatter yourself, human.”
Perfect English, just like the other one. The voice was flat, but not emotionless. Anger, sarcasm, and a certain amount of weariness seeped through the tone.
Spade tried to swallow again, but his throat had gone painfully dry. “You came to kill me….didn’t you?” he whispered.
“There’s an idea,” the alien said with a frosty smile. “Thanks for sharing.” It held his hand up, palm out.
Spade felt something hit him hard in the chest, and he flew backwards, smashing into the wall behind him, sliding to the floor. Pain exploded everywhere, but especially in his head, which had smacked the wall quite hard indeed. His vision blurred, and he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, the alien was squatting in front of him. Here it comes, he thought groggily. Fifer, looks like I’m joining you.
But the alien didn’t move to strike again. It examined Spade closely, tipping its head sideways as though Spade were a lab specimen. “Do you have any idea the amount of trouble you caused when you injured me, human?” it asked softly, dangerously.
Spade put his hand tentatively to the back of his head. When he pulled it away, it was bloody. “Look’s like we’re even,” he said thickly. His tongue wasn’t behaving itself.
“ ‘Even’?” the alien said in mock surprise. “ ‘Even’? Would you like to see ‘even’? In that case I need to break one of your arms, and one of your legs in several places. I need to make certain your bones poke through your flesh, and that little slivers wander through your bloodstream. Then, and only then, will we be ‘even’.”
The alien stood up. Spade closed his eyes, waiting for the blast. He had no idea what he had been hit with; nothing visible, he knew that much. But whatever it was had felt like a physical object, like someone had smashed his chest with a log. If this was what they could do when they were injured, what could they do when they weren’t?
But the alien didn’t attack. “There is nothing I would like more than to inflict upon you what you inflicted upon me earlier,” it said in that hard voice. “Fortunately for you, I have more pressing matters to attend to.” It walked into the hallway and retrieved the guard’s body, dragging it into the little room, positioning it well off to the side. Smart, Spade thought. No one would be able to see it through the window. The alien took the keys off the guard and headed for the door. He’s going to lock me in here! Spade realized.
“Wait!”
The alien turned. Spade struggled to sit up and was rewarded with a gorgeous fireworks show inside his head. “Take me with you,” he gasped, reeling from the pain.
“What possible reason would I have for doing that?”
“You need me,” Spade argued, blinking against the fireworks still bursting before his eyes. “You’re looking for the others, aren’t you? I know this base. I know which section they’re in, and I know how to get there.”
The alien stared at him, saying nothing. “Look, I’ll give you a freebie,” Spade said desperately. “That MP stopped you because you didn’t have identification. You’ll be stopped again if you don’t take his badge,” he said, indicating the body on the floor. The alien’s gaze shifted to the dead guard. “And the helmet. MP’s always wear helmets. If you don’t want to get caught, you’ve got to get it right. I can help you do that.” Just get me out of here, Spade thought. The last thing he needed right now was to be caught with a dead guard in his room. Silver handprint or no silver handprint, this was just what Cavitt needed to put him away for good.
Walking over to the guard’s body, the alien removed the badge and helmet, donned both, and moved for the door again. “Wait!” Spade called. “You needed me for that—what else will you need me for? This is a big base; you could wander it for hours and not find what you’re looking for. You don’t have that kind of time. The first one of….yours……wasn’t so badly injured, but the second one, if it’s alive at all, doesn’t have time for you to wander around aimlessly.”
Eyes widening, the alien crossed the room so quickly that if Spade had blinked, he would have missed it. One second it was near the door, and the next it was standing beside Spade.
Bending down in front of Spade, the alien let his eyes go black again. “What do you know of my companions?” it hissed.
I really wish it’d stop doing that eye thing, Spade thought wearily. He knew it was probably just a scare tactic, but damn!, it was working. The fireworks in his head had slowed considerably, and he struggled to sit up.
“The first one was definitely breathing when I found it in the hallway of your ship. The second one….” He paused, remembering the conversation he’d had with the second alien, the one that sounded like a college professor. “The second one was shot. It was badly hurt. No one could tell if it was dead or alive.”
The alien’s face froze. They care for each other, Spade realized, wondering why that surprised him.
“Where were his injuries?” the alien demanded. “Where was he shot?”
“The appropriate question is where wasn’t he shot,” Spade whispered.
The alien slowly stood up, walked to a corner, and just stood there, as if composing itself. Spade waited, knowing his fate was being decided, surprised that he preferred this creature to Cavitt. He was really hoping the alien would decide to take him along. Deep down, maybe he wanted to set things right. As right as he could get them, that is.
“Why were you incarcerated?” the alien asked, its back still turned.
“Because I wouldn’t lie for them,” Spade said flatly. “I hate liars. No matter what shape they come in,” he added pointedly.
Spade closed his eyes, hoping the fireworks went away for good this time. The alien remained motionless, staring into the corner. What was it waiting for?
Then abruptly, the alien turned around. “Get up.”
“What?”
“I said get up. You’re coming with me.” It glanced down at the body. “What else should I take?”
“His gun,” Spade answered, rising slowly to his feet. He leaned against the wall for support, but the alien dragged him by the arm out into the hallway and propped him against the wall there. “Lock the door,” Spade instructed. “The key should be one of those on that ring you took.”
But aliens didn’t need keys, as evidenced by the glowing hand held over the lock. The lock glowed and the metal shifted slightly. It was the second time today that Spade had seen a glowing hand like that, and a sudden wave of nausea came over him. What the hell had he gotten himself into?
“Now what?”
“Your people are being held in the northwest section,” Spade said, blinking to clear his vision. He was still a little dizzy. “Walk behind me. I’ll pretend to be your prisoner.”
The idiocy of that statement struck him even before the words finished leaving his mouth. “Pretend?” the alien replied with that cold smile. “Who’s pretending?”
******************************************************
1 mile south of Eagle Rock Military Base,
Chaves County, New Mexico
Jaddo crouched behind some low bushes off the side of the road, shivering. Not from cold, because it was still quite hot, but from exhaustion. Twice he had tried to stop the engine of the truck which carried the sacs, and twice he had failed. He hadn’t realized just how depleted he was until now. He felt weak and shaky, and he hated himself for being so fragile. Rath deserved better.
After the second attempt he had flown on further, noting the road being taken to the military base and settling here, miles ahead of the truck, to rest and hopefully recharge. He had taken human form just in case the worst happened and he was apprehended, and because, frankly, he found he focused more clearly in a bipedal form. He would have loved to take his native form, but given the humans’ reactions to Valeris, that seemed unwise.
In the distance Jaddo heard a truck approaching, and he closed his eyes, gathering his energy. This was so frustrating. At full strength he could have stopped that truck dead with a mere thought. Now it was a struggle to even make the lights blink. The past several days were catching up with him. Even worse, it appeared he was alone in this alien world and solely responsible for their Wards. At this point, he seriously doubted he was up to the task.
The engine roar grew louder. Up ahead, a truck rounded the bend. Jaddo’s sharp vision confirmed it was the truck he was after, and he gathered his energy and aimed it at the truck.
Nothing.
Damn! He tried again. The truck was getting closer. This time it slowed and began to shake; he could see the looks of confusion on the faces of its occupants. Pushing harder and harder with the tatters of his power, Jaddo slowly began to bring the vehicle to a halt.
Oh no! He could feel his mental grip slipping. NO! Not now, not when he was so close! Desperate to succeed, he lurched forward into the path of the slowing vehicle and, holding up his hand, summoned everything he had left.
It wasn’t enough. At the last minute, just before the truck hit him, Jaddo let his molecules lose cohesion. The driver slammed on the brakes and swerved off the road.
“Oh , my God!”
“Check under the truck!”
One of the soldiers peered into the gloom of the road behind the truck. But it was dark, and Jaddo was not in anything close to a recognizable form on this world. Or any other, for that matter.
Footsteps. “Hal!” came a voice. The peering soldier scurried to join the other at the back of the truck. Staring, no doubt. Staring at the hybrids.
Don’t hurt them, Jaddo thought miserably. They mean nothing to you, and everything to us. After watching all day for a chance to rescue them, being this close to them and unable to act was agony.
At length the soldiers retreated, and the truck restarted and drove away. Fortunately that particular road was not well traveled. Several minutes passed before Jaddo worked up the courage to attempt a shift. He had heard of Covari being trapped in this formless existence, and he was terrified that would happen to him now. Granted, he had voluntarily lost cohesion; most of the trapped had not been able to hold their forms or successfully shift to another because of genetic defects. He had only seen that happen once, and once had been enough to drive home the point that there were indeed things worse than death.
So in the gloom on a road north of Roswell, New Mexico, a dark lump in the road flowed and twisted into a small, vaguely humanoid shape. Jaddo almost collapsed with relief when he managed to return to his native form. It was risky doing that here in this hostile place, but it was the form he was the most accustomed to and thus the easiest to attain. Several more minutes passed before he had the strength to rise and leave the road, sitting down heavily in the bushes.
Just as soon as he was able to fly, he would have to try again.
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
“There,” Spade said, peering around the corner. “I’ll bet they’re in there.”
The alien looked around the corner. “Why there?”
“This is the medical wing. I told you at least one of your people was alive, so they would have been taken here. And there’s a guard outside. We don’t have any other injured prisoners here that would be guarded.”
Spade waited while the alien considered this. They had been walking the halls of the base for the past fifteen minutes. Few were about at this hour, and the rare people they encountered hadn’t given them a second look. Their subterfuge had worked perfectly.
“Move,” the alien ordered.
“What are you going to do?”
“What do you think I’m going to do?”
“Don’t kill him,” Spade pleaded.
“Why not?”
“Because…..because….” Spade stopped, suddenly realizing that from the alien’s perspective, there really was no good reason not to kill the guard. “Look, you don’t have to kill him. Let me handle it. I’ll tie him up and stash him in a closet somewhere.”
“Oh, I intend to stash him somewhere,” the alien replied coldly.
“I can take him,” Spade argued. “Let me try.”
“And cause a commotion that will bring others here? Leave him alive to escape and summon reinforcements? I think not.”
Spade mentally groped for a way out of this, and found none. Why was this so hard? Why was arguing for a man’s life so difficult? “You know, leaving a trail of dead bodies behind you is not the way to win friends and influence people,” he said desperately.
“I’m not here to ‘win friends’,” the alien said flatly. “I’m here to take back what is mine, and I will eliminate anything or anyone that hinders me.”
“So why are you here?” Spade asked, trying to buy time. “The other one just said your ship crashed. It didn’t say why.”
A second later Spade found himself plastered to the wall with his feet about a yard off the ground. Hanging there like a rag doll, his throat gripped in an invisible vise, Spade looked down at the glittering eyes of his captor. “Who did you speak to?” the alien hissed.
“One of your people,” Spade said breathlessly, rolling his eyes in a vain attempt to see what, if anything, was holding him up.
“Which one? The first one captured, or the second?”
“The second.”
“What did he say?” the alien demanded.
“Kill me, and you’ll never find out,” Spade croaked.
Around the corner, a phone rang. Spade felt whatever was holding him abruptly let go, and he slid to the floor with a thud. The guard’s voice floated up the hallway toward them as he checked in from the phone on the wall. “All’s calm. Nothing to report. Nurse reports no change.”
“We move now,” the alien announced. “He has just spoken with his superiors. They will not be contacting him again for some time, at least.”
“What are you going to do? Just shoot him? Someone’s bound to hear that gun go off,” Spade said hoarsely, nursing his throat.
The alien gave another cold smile. “I don’t need your ‘guns’, human.”
“Maybe not,” Spade said. “But our guns sure do a number on you.”
The alien stared at him so hard that for a moment, Spade was certain he was going to be killed. But it can’t afford to right, now. I have something it wants. Now that they’d likely found where its people were being held, that was Spade’s only bargaining chip.
The alien impatiently gestured him forward. Spade moved reluctantly, thinking fast. He was hoping he’d at least have a chance to knock out the guard before he joined the silver handprint brigade. He still had one advantage—the alien couldn’t kill from a distance. If it could have, it already would have. It would have to walk up to the guard and touch him in order to kill him, and that might be Spade’s only chance to prevent another death.
“Move.” Obediently, Spade rounded the corner, the alien behind him. They walked at a leisurely pace toward the guard, who looked up, startled.
“What’s this?”
“Seems I’m being transferred to this wing,” Spade jumped in, speaking before the alien had a chance to. “My guard doesn’t know where room 215 is,” he continued, knowing full well that Room 215 was a good long ways from here. “Can you direct us?”
The guard paused, looking back and forth from one to the other, no doubt trying to figure out why the prisoner was doing all the talking. The alien slipped halfway behind the guard, and the hand came up………
……..but never made it. Spade saw his chance and planted a fierce right hook on the guard’s jaw. The guard went down—Yes! Now all he needed was something to tie him up and gag him.
But it wasn’t enough. The guard recovered and grabbed Spade’s leg, knocking him over. The two grappled on the floor.
“A little help, please?” the guard yelled to the other “guard”.
“Of course,” came the silky reply.
The hand came down, and Spade looked away. He was all tangled up with the guard, and he felt the body stiffen, saw the eyes widen with shock. A horrible sizzling sound filled the air, soon joined by the odor of burnt flesh. Spade frantically disentangled himself from the body and pitched backward. His stomach heaved, and he knelt on the floor, retching.
He was dimly aware of the guard’s body being dragged away. When the alien returned, Spade looked up at it and was surprised to see a different look in the eyes.
“You tried,” the alien said.
“You didn’t let me try, you murdering bastard,” Spade whispered.
The alien paused, its back to Spade. “Tell me, human,” it said softly. “Do you rescue those of yours who are captured in battle?”
Spade wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah. Of course we do.”
“I see. And would you kill an enemy that prevented such a rescue?”
Spade was silent. Of course we would, was the answer. The answer he did not want to voice.
“Ah. I see. Once again, humans blame us for doing exactly what they would do under similar circumstances.”
“Once again? Who else blamed you?”
No answer. The alien moved to the door and held its hand over the lock, which began to glow. Spade heard a “click”, and the door swung open. The faint sounds of music floated out into the hallway.
Jazz?
A woman stood just beyond the doorway, a nurse by the looks of her. Shit! Spade thought, lurching to his feet. Was the alien going to kill her too?
“I’ve come for the prisoners,” the alien announced. It still looked every inch the MP, and all trace of the guard outside the door had been removed. The nurse had no idea what she was facing, which was just as well. Just let it take them, Spade silently begged. Just like you would anyway.
But to his surprise, the nurse stepped forward and planted herself firmly in front of the alleged MP. Her voice shook a little, but the challenge in it was unmistakable.
“You can’t have them.”
July 7, 1947, 2200 hours
Eagle Rock Military Base
Private Spade cast a frantic glance around the room in which he was locked. There was no other way out; no heating ducts, no windows. When he looked back to the window in the door, the man’s eyes were normal, but Spade knew very well that was no normal man outside his door.
He glanced down at the door handle, thanking his lucky stars that the door was locked. That….thing would have to leave the window to get the keys off the body of the MP, and when it did, Spade would have to find something to defend himself with. He stepped back from the door, looking wildly around the tiny room for anything that would serve as a weapon.
Click.
The door swung slowly open. How did he do that? The face hadn’t left the window for so much as an instant. As the door opened fully, the body of the guard came into view. His keys were still attached to his belt.
The figure in the doorway was silent, impassive. It looked completely human, dressed in an MP’s uniform minus the helmet and, inexplicably, minus the gun. Perhaps they didn’t need weapons? Spade knew they could hide themselves from prying eyes and kill with a touch. What else could they do?
Spade swallowed hard. He was probably about to find out.
The silence was oppressive. Neither of them moved. Spade was breathing heavily, poised for flight. The figure in the doorway regarded him with deadly calm. Obviously it knew who had the upper hand here, and that wasn’t the sweating Army Private standing in front of it. It took a step forward…..
….and limped. Slightly. Spade noticed the hesitation in the left leg, and realized with horror that this was the alien he had used for a baseball.
“Did….did you come all the way in here just for me?” Spade asked, finding it hard to believe the alien would risk exposure in a military base just for revenge.
“Don’t flatter yourself, human.”
Perfect English, just like the other one. The voice was flat, but not emotionless. Anger, sarcasm, and a certain amount of weariness seeped through the tone.
Spade tried to swallow again, but his throat had gone painfully dry. “You came to kill me….didn’t you?” he whispered.
“There’s an idea,” the alien said with a frosty smile. “Thanks for sharing.” It held his hand up, palm out.
Spade felt something hit him hard in the chest, and he flew backwards, smashing into the wall behind him, sliding to the floor. Pain exploded everywhere, but especially in his head, which had smacked the wall quite hard indeed. His vision blurred, and he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, the alien was squatting in front of him. Here it comes, he thought groggily. Fifer, looks like I’m joining you.
But the alien didn’t move to strike again. It examined Spade closely, tipping its head sideways as though Spade were a lab specimen. “Do you have any idea the amount of trouble you caused when you injured me, human?” it asked softly, dangerously.
Spade put his hand tentatively to the back of his head. When he pulled it away, it was bloody. “Look’s like we’re even,” he said thickly. His tongue wasn’t behaving itself.
“ ‘Even’?” the alien said in mock surprise. “ ‘Even’? Would you like to see ‘even’? In that case I need to break one of your arms, and one of your legs in several places. I need to make certain your bones poke through your flesh, and that little slivers wander through your bloodstream. Then, and only then, will we be ‘even’.”
The alien stood up. Spade closed his eyes, waiting for the blast. He had no idea what he had been hit with; nothing visible, he knew that much. But whatever it was had felt like a physical object, like someone had smashed his chest with a log. If this was what they could do when they were injured, what could they do when they weren’t?
But the alien didn’t attack. “There is nothing I would like more than to inflict upon you what you inflicted upon me earlier,” it said in that hard voice. “Fortunately for you, I have more pressing matters to attend to.” It walked into the hallway and retrieved the guard’s body, dragging it into the little room, positioning it well off to the side. Smart, Spade thought. No one would be able to see it through the window. The alien took the keys off the guard and headed for the door. He’s going to lock me in here! Spade realized.
“Wait!”
The alien turned. Spade struggled to sit up and was rewarded with a gorgeous fireworks show inside his head. “Take me with you,” he gasped, reeling from the pain.
“What possible reason would I have for doing that?”
“You need me,” Spade argued, blinking against the fireworks still bursting before his eyes. “You’re looking for the others, aren’t you? I know this base. I know which section they’re in, and I know how to get there.”
The alien stared at him, saying nothing. “Look, I’ll give you a freebie,” Spade said desperately. “That MP stopped you because you didn’t have identification. You’ll be stopped again if you don’t take his badge,” he said, indicating the body on the floor. The alien’s gaze shifted to the dead guard. “And the helmet. MP’s always wear helmets. If you don’t want to get caught, you’ve got to get it right. I can help you do that.” Just get me out of here, Spade thought. The last thing he needed right now was to be caught with a dead guard in his room. Silver handprint or no silver handprint, this was just what Cavitt needed to put him away for good.
Walking over to the guard’s body, the alien removed the badge and helmet, donned both, and moved for the door again. “Wait!” Spade called. “You needed me for that—what else will you need me for? This is a big base; you could wander it for hours and not find what you’re looking for. You don’t have that kind of time. The first one of….yours……wasn’t so badly injured, but the second one, if it’s alive at all, doesn’t have time for you to wander around aimlessly.”
Eyes widening, the alien crossed the room so quickly that if Spade had blinked, he would have missed it. One second it was near the door, and the next it was standing beside Spade.
Bending down in front of Spade, the alien let his eyes go black again. “What do you know of my companions?” it hissed.
I really wish it’d stop doing that eye thing, Spade thought wearily. He knew it was probably just a scare tactic, but damn!, it was working. The fireworks in his head had slowed considerably, and he struggled to sit up.
“The first one was definitely breathing when I found it in the hallway of your ship. The second one….” He paused, remembering the conversation he’d had with the second alien, the one that sounded like a college professor. “The second one was shot. It was badly hurt. No one could tell if it was dead or alive.”
The alien’s face froze. They care for each other, Spade realized, wondering why that surprised him.
“Where were his injuries?” the alien demanded. “Where was he shot?”
“The appropriate question is where wasn’t he shot,” Spade whispered.
The alien slowly stood up, walked to a corner, and just stood there, as if composing itself. Spade waited, knowing his fate was being decided, surprised that he preferred this creature to Cavitt. He was really hoping the alien would decide to take him along. Deep down, maybe he wanted to set things right. As right as he could get them, that is.
“Why were you incarcerated?” the alien asked, its back still turned.
“Because I wouldn’t lie for them,” Spade said flatly. “I hate liars. No matter what shape they come in,” he added pointedly.
Spade closed his eyes, hoping the fireworks went away for good this time. The alien remained motionless, staring into the corner. What was it waiting for?
Then abruptly, the alien turned around. “Get up.”
“What?”
“I said get up. You’re coming with me.” It glanced down at the body. “What else should I take?”
“His gun,” Spade answered, rising slowly to his feet. He leaned against the wall for support, but the alien dragged him by the arm out into the hallway and propped him against the wall there. “Lock the door,” Spade instructed. “The key should be one of those on that ring you took.”
But aliens didn’t need keys, as evidenced by the glowing hand held over the lock. The lock glowed and the metal shifted slightly. It was the second time today that Spade had seen a glowing hand like that, and a sudden wave of nausea came over him. What the hell had he gotten himself into?
“Now what?”
“Your people are being held in the northwest section,” Spade said, blinking to clear his vision. He was still a little dizzy. “Walk behind me. I’ll pretend to be your prisoner.”
The idiocy of that statement struck him even before the words finished leaving his mouth. “Pretend?” the alien replied with that cold smile. “Who’s pretending?”
******************************************************
1 mile south of Eagle Rock Military Base,
Chaves County, New Mexico
Jaddo crouched behind some low bushes off the side of the road, shivering. Not from cold, because it was still quite hot, but from exhaustion. Twice he had tried to stop the engine of the truck which carried the sacs, and twice he had failed. He hadn’t realized just how depleted he was until now. He felt weak and shaky, and he hated himself for being so fragile. Rath deserved better.
After the second attempt he had flown on further, noting the road being taken to the military base and settling here, miles ahead of the truck, to rest and hopefully recharge. He had taken human form just in case the worst happened and he was apprehended, and because, frankly, he found he focused more clearly in a bipedal form. He would have loved to take his native form, but given the humans’ reactions to Valeris, that seemed unwise.
In the distance Jaddo heard a truck approaching, and he closed his eyes, gathering his energy. This was so frustrating. At full strength he could have stopped that truck dead with a mere thought. Now it was a struggle to even make the lights blink. The past several days were catching up with him. Even worse, it appeared he was alone in this alien world and solely responsible for their Wards. At this point, he seriously doubted he was up to the task.
The engine roar grew louder. Up ahead, a truck rounded the bend. Jaddo’s sharp vision confirmed it was the truck he was after, and he gathered his energy and aimed it at the truck.
Nothing.
Damn! He tried again. The truck was getting closer. This time it slowed and began to shake; he could see the looks of confusion on the faces of its occupants. Pushing harder and harder with the tatters of his power, Jaddo slowly began to bring the vehicle to a halt.
Oh no! He could feel his mental grip slipping. NO! Not now, not when he was so close! Desperate to succeed, he lurched forward into the path of the slowing vehicle and, holding up his hand, summoned everything he had left.
It wasn’t enough. At the last minute, just before the truck hit him, Jaddo let his molecules lose cohesion. The driver slammed on the brakes and swerved off the road.
“Oh , my God!”
“Check under the truck!”
One of the soldiers peered into the gloom of the road behind the truck. But it was dark, and Jaddo was not in anything close to a recognizable form on this world. Or any other, for that matter.
Footsteps. “Hal!” came a voice. The peering soldier scurried to join the other at the back of the truck. Staring, no doubt. Staring at the hybrids.
Don’t hurt them, Jaddo thought miserably. They mean nothing to you, and everything to us. After watching all day for a chance to rescue them, being this close to them and unable to act was agony.
At length the soldiers retreated, and the truck restarted and drove away. Fortunately that particular road was not well traveled. Several minutes passed before Jaddo worked up the courage to attempt a shift. He had heard of Covari being trapped in this formless existence, and he was terrified that would happen to him now. Granted, he had voluntarily lost cohesion; most of the trapped had not been able to hold their forms or successfully shift to another because of genetic defects. He had only seen that happen once, and once had been enough to drive home the point that there were indeed things worse than death.
So in the gloom on a road north of Roswell, New Mexico, a dark lump in the road flowed and twisted into a small, vaguely humanoid shape. Jaddo almost collapsed with relief when he managed to return to his native form. It was risky doing that here in this hostile place, but it was the form he was the most accustomed to and thus the easiest to attain. Several more minutes passed before he had the strength to rise and leave the road, sitting down heavily in the bushes.
Just as soon as he was able to fly, he would have to try again.
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
“There,” Spade said, peering around the corner. “I’ll bet they’re in there.”
The alien looked around the corner. “Why there?”
“This is the medical wing. I told you at least one of your people was alive, so they would have been taken here. And there’s a guard outside. We don’t have any other injured prisoners here that would be guarded.”
Spade waited while the alien considered this. They had been walking the halls of the base for the past fifteen minutes. Few were about at this hour, and the rare people they encountered hadn’t given them a second look. Their subterfuge had worked perfectly.
“Move,” the alien ordered.
“What are you going to do?”
“What do you think I’m going to do?”
“Don’t kill him,” Spade pleaded.
“Why not?”
“Because…..because….” Spade stopped, suddenly realizing that from the alien’s perspective, there really was no good reason not to kill the guard. “Look, you don’t have to kill him. Let me handle it. I’ll tie him up and stash him in a closet somewhere.”
“Oh, I intend to stash him somewhere,” the alien replied coldly.
“I can take him,” Spade argued. “Let me try.”
“And cause a commotion that will bring others here? Leave him alive to escape and summon reinforcements? I think not.”
Spade mentally groped for a way out of this, and found none. Why was this so hard? Why was arguing for a man’s life so difficult? “You know, leaving a trail of dead bodies behind you is not the way to win friends and influence people,” he said desperately.
“I’m not here to ‘win friends’,” the alien said flatly. “I’m here to take back what is mine, and I will eliminate anything or anyone that hinders me.”
“So why are you here?” Spade asked, trying to buy time. “The other one just said your ship crashed. It didn’t say why.”
A second later Spade found himself plastered to the wall with his feet about a yard off the ground. Hanging there like a rag doll, his throat gripped in an invisible vise, Spade looked down at the glittering eyes of his captor. “Who did you speak to?” the alien hissed.
“One of your people,” Spade said breathlessly, rolling his eyes in a vain attempt to see what, if anything, was holding him up.
“Which one? The first one captured, or the second?”
“The second.”
“What did he say?” the alien demanded.
“Kill me, and you’ll never find out,” Spade croaked.
Around the corner, a phone rang. Spade felt whatever was holding him abruptly let go, and he slid to the floor with a thud. The guard’s voice floated up the hallway toward them as he checked in from the phone on the wall. “All’s calm. Nothing to report. Nurse reports no change.”
“We move now,” the alien announced. “He has just spoken with his superiors. They will not be contacting him again for some time, at least.”
“What are you going to do? Just shoot him? Someone’s bound to hear that gun go off,” Spade said hoarsely, nursing his throat.
The alien gave another cold smile. “I don’t need your ‘guns’, human.”
“Maybe not,” Spade said. “But our guns sure do a number on you.”
The alien stared at him so hard that for a moment, Spade was certain he was going to be killed. But it can’t afford to right, now. I have something it wants. Now that they’d likely found where its people were being held, that was Spade’s only bargaining chip.
The alien impatiently gestured him forward. Spade moved reluctantly, thinking fast. He was hoping he’d at least have a chance to knock out the guard before he joined the silver handprint brigade. He still had one advantage—the alien couldn’t kill from a distance. If it could have, it already would have. It would have to walk up to the guard and touch him in order to kill him, and that might be Spade’s only chance to prevent another death.
“Move.” Obediently, Spade rounded the corner, the alien behind him. They walked at a leisurely pace toward the guard, who looked up, startled.
“What’s this?”
“Seems I’m being transferred to this wing,” Spade jumped in, speaking before the alien had a chance to. “My guard doesn’t know where room 215 is,” he continued, knowing full well that Room 215 was a good long ways from here. “Can you direct us?”
The guard paused, looking back and forth from one to the other, no doubt trying to figure out why the prisoner was doing all the talking. The alien slipped halfway behind the guard, and the hand came up………
……..but never made it. Spade saw his chance and planted a fierce right hook on the guard’s jaw. The guard went down—Yes! Now all he needed was something to tie him up and gag him.
But it wasn’t enough. The guard recovered and grabbed Spade’s leg, knocking him over. The two grappled on the floor.
“A little help, please?” the guard yelled to the other “guard”.
“Of course,” came the silky reply.
The hand came down, and Spade looked away. He was all tangled up with the guard, and he felt the body stiffen, saw the eyes widen with shock. A horrible sizzling sound filled the air, soon joined by the odor of burnt flesh. Spade frantically disentangled himself from the body and pitched backward. His stomach heaved, and he knelt on the floor, retching.
He was dimly aware of the guard’s body being dragged away. When the alien returned, Spade looked up at it and was surprised to see a different look in the eyes.
“You tried,” the alien said.
“You didn’t let me try, you murdering bastard,” Spade whispered.
The alien paused, its back to Spade. “Tell me, human,” it said softly. “Do you rescue those of yours who are captured in battle?”
Spade wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Yeah. Of course we do.”
“I see. And would you kill an enemy that prevented such a rescue?”
Spade was silent. Of course we would, was the answer. The answer he did not want to voice.
“Ah. I see. Once again, humans blame us for doing exactly what they would do under similar circumstances.”
“Once again? Who else blamed you?”
No answer. The alien moved to the door and held its hand over the lock, which began to glow. Spade heard a “click”, and the door swung open. The faint sounds of music floated out into the hallway.
Jazz?
A woman stood just beyond the doorway, a nurse by the looks of her. Shit! Spade thought, lurching to his feet. Was the alien going to kill her too?
“I’ve come for the prisoners,” the alien announced. It still looked every inch the MP, and all trace of the guard outside the door had been removed. The nurse had no idea what she was facing, which was just as well. Just let it take them, Spade silently begged. Just like you would anyway.
But to his surprise, the nurse stepped forward and planted herself firmly in front of the alleged MP. Her voice shook a little, but the challenge in it was unmistakable.
“You can’t have them.”
Part 45
PART FORTY-FIVE
July 7, 1947, 2245 hours
Eagle Rock Military Base
Yvonne White waited, bracing herself as she faced down the military policeman standing before her. She’d been playing out likely scenarios in her head for the past two hours, and was glad it was only an MP she had to face—now she could use the excuse most likely to work.
“You can’t have them,” Yvonne repeated when the MP didn’t respond. “My orders were to stay with the prisoners until medical personnel arrived to move them.” That was a bald-faced lie, but it just might work. MP’s usually shied away from anything medical. This might buy more time. The creature was still healing itself, but very, very slowly, and Yvonne knew that if anyone learned it was alive, it would not be allowed to finish.
“I beg your pardon?” the MP replied in an icy tone.
Yvonne hesitated. This was not the response she expected. The Army, like any military unit, functioned on the basis of orders: What the orders were, and who gave them. Any challenges were answered by producing those orders and announcing who issued them. The MP should have produced his orders, or demanded that she produce her orders.
The unfamiliar soldier standing behind the MP was making weird gestures, pointing first at the two aliens on the nearby stretchers, barely visible in the gloom, then at the MP. Yvonne hadn’t the faintest idea why he was going through all those gymnastics. Yes, the MP wanted to take the aliens. And no, she wasn’t going to let him if she could help it. The three of them stood there, staring at each other, the zippy jazz music floating from the radio sounding completely incongruent.
The MP held up his hand. Yvonne assumed she was being handed the requisite orders, and was surprised to find the hand empty. It was merely extended, palm forward, in the oddest fashion. What was he doing?
She didn’t have time to ask the question. “Duck! yelled the soldier, and Yvonne instinctively obeyed.
She wasn’t quite quick enough. Something clipped her shoulder, sending her sprawling on the floor. Completely confused as to why a military policeman would be attacking her, or what he was attacking her with, she looked up at the MP—and gasped.
His eyes had gone black. Inky black, depthless black, no-pupil black. Sweet Jesus. They could make themselves look human.
“You’re one of them,” she whispered.
“Brilliant,” the false MP deadpanned, as he held up his hand again.
“Stop!” came a weak voice from the corner.
Every head, human and alien, swiveled toward the source. The MP’s—the alien’s—hand fell slowly to his side. “Urza?” he whispered.
“Brivari, stop,” the voice continued, barely above a whisper. “She was kind to me. Do not harm her.”
The soldier pushed past the alien and hurried over to Yvonne, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. “Are you all right?” he asked, holding her by her shoulders.
Yvonne nodded shakily, still in a daze. “I’m fine,” she answered, not really certain that was true, and too preoccupied to care. “He….looks human,” she finished in a whisper.
The soldier glanced over at the alien MP. “Yeah,” he said heavily.
“And they talk?” Yvonne asked, staring at the creature on the nearest stretcher. She had never heard it speak, had not even known it could speak. And speak English, no less.
“Oh, yeah,” the soldier responded. “Better than we do.”
Ignoring Yvonne and the soldier completely, the alien MP had moved to the creature’s side. “You’re alive!” the alien said with obvious relief. “Thank goodness!”
“Did the child escape?” the creature whispered. The alien nodded.
The creature closed its eyes. “Good. She was the only reason either of us ever had a chance. Even though…..” It stopped, as though unwilling to continue, and turned its head.
Everyone followed its gaze to the second creature, the dead-looking one, further back in the shadows of the room. It was dark back there, too dark to see clearly. Only one light glowed, the one at Yvonne’s desk. She had discovered by trial and error that the live creature seemed to relax more when the room was darkened, and had kept the room dark ever since.
“I’ll get the light,” Yvonne said in a tentative voice.
The alien held up his hand, not threateningly this time, but as if to say, “No need.” The lights in the room rose of their own volition to a dim glow, and the music abruptly ceased. Yvonne looked in wonderment at the soldier beside her; he seemed not the least bit surprised. She wondered if he was working with the aliens or held hostage by them. If it was the latter, he wasn’t making a run for it.
Moving to stand beside the second creature’s stretcher, the alien looked back at the first creature, which shook its head. “I have not been able to examine him closely,” the creature said sadly, “but I think he’s dead.”
And then the alien had turned his eyes, normal eyes now, toward Yvonne, and she recognized the expression. She’d seen that look of shock hundreds of times in hundreds of pairs of eyes across the world. This was familiar ground.
“I’m not familiar with your people,” she said softly, “but I haven’t detected any signs of life since they brought him in. I’m not certain we’d know what to do for him if there were. Is there something you can do?”
“He has head wounds,” the alien replied in a stricken voice. His face had gone ashen, his expression one of utter disbelief. “Other wounds I could repair, but not these.”
The alien reached out and stroked the creature’s gray head in a gesture so human, Yvonne felt a lump forming in her throat. She made it her business not to get involved in the deaths of her patients. She couldn’t—she would have gone mad. She had watched countless family members stand before their dead loved ones and stroke them just this way with her medical mask firmly in place. So why was this affecting her so much? Was it because she hadn’t expected grief—real grief—from another species?
Yvonne glanced around the room. The soldier beside her was staring fixedly at the dead alien, his jaw twitching, the look on his face not one of shock or revulsion, which she would have expected, but one of anger. The first creature was silent, its eyes closed, as if its brief burst of communication had consumed all its energy. As usual, it was up to her to be strong for the grieving relatives. She moved cautiously to the end of the stretcher.
“Was….he…a member of your family?”
“He was my friend,” the alien replied, still stroking the huge head. “A very old and dear friend.”
“I’m sorry,” Yvonne said gently. Two words, two and half, really, that no matter how sincerely spoken, always seemed inadequate to the enormity of the loss of a life. “Is there anything we can do?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Brivari stood before Valeris’s body, too shocked and saddened to curse fate. This was the second time in as many weeks that he had stood before a body in a dimly lit room with his heart broken. Do we even have hearts to break? he wondered, knowing full well that many on his world would argue they did not. Covari had no family, no parents, siblings, spouses, or children like others did. Their only ties were to those they worked for and with. Valeris had been his oldest friend, the only one he trusted completely.
And now Valeris was dead, and the stones in Brivari’s pocket which could have healed even grievous wounds were nothing but useless rocks. Even the stones could not help a brain injury. Without the brain, there was no way to bring a shapeshifter back.
The human female was speaking, asking if there was any way she could help, and Brivari felt a small smile breaking through his sadness. She was kind to me, Urza had said. Urza did have a way with the ladies, be he wounded or well. Even Ava had loved Urza, taking him with her and Vilandra when they went out together, leaving Valeris behind with his science. No one had minded this arrangement, least of all Urza.
But now was not the time to wallow in nostalgia. Brivari turned to the soldier standing beside the female. “You know what happened, don’t you?” The soldier nodded. “Tell me,” Brivari demanded.
“He was surrendering, and they shot him,” the soldier replied quietly.
“Why?”
“Why?” the soldier echoed. “Because he scared the daylights out of them, that’s why. Because they were afraid he would attack.”
“He was a scientist,” Brivari whispered, looking down at Valeris. “He was no threat to them.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” the soldier countered. “I watched him kill two of my friends. He admitted it.”
“And so you killed him in retaliation,” said a sharp voice from the door.
Everyone turned, startled, as a hand appeared in the doorway, pointing straight at the soldier, who went flying against the far wall with a thud.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Private Spade had the presence of mind to pull his head forward as he flew back toward the wall. I’m getting good at this, he thought grimly. A few more tries, and I’ll have it down pat.
He didn’t hit as hard has he thought he would. The energy that pushed him backwards this time was more like a strong shove, nothing at all like the log to the chest the first alien had used. This one was weaker than the first, assuming it was an alien. And what else could it be? Wonderful. Two of them.
Weaker or no, Spade still found himself sprawled on the floor--again. This was getting old fast. The first one had a right to get some licks in, but what was up with this one? “Would you people knock it off?!” he exploded in frustration, as he looked up and saw the hand still extended, still poised to strike. But then help arrived from an unlikely source.
“Stop!” the first alien roared, flinging up his own hand. A burst of green light shot from it, forming a flat wall between Spade and the second alien. He heard the nurse gasp, watched her move sideways to join him on the far side of that shimmering green wall. Good idea, sweetheart. He had no idea what that was, but he instinctively knew he was safer on this side of it. At least for the moment.
“Identify!” commanded Spade’s alien.
The hand in the doorway hesitated, then dropped. A man, a disheveled, exhausted, but perfectly normal looking man appeared in the doorway with a look of astonishment on his face.
Spade’s alien closed his hand, and the shimmering green wall disappeared. “Jaddo?”
“Who else would I be?” Alien #2 demanded angrily. “And where have you been? Do you have any idea how long I spent looking for you? I thought you were dead!”
By way of answer, Spade’s alien held up a small bag which produced raised eyebrows from Alien #2. “Where did you find them?”
“Not now,” Spade’s alien said shortly. “We need to use them on Urza, then rescue the sacs.” He paused and took a deep breath, as though his next words were difficult to speak. “Valeris is dead.”
“I am not surprised,” Alien #2 said unemotionally. “He looked dead when I last saw him.”
Spade’s alien threw him a withering look. “I said Valeris is dead, Jaddo. Is that the best you can do?”
“What would you have me do?” Alien #2 snapped. “Dissolve in grief deep in enemy territory? This is neither the time nor the place, Brivari. We have a bigger problem. The sacs are here.”
“Here?” Spade’s alien replied sharply.
“They found them. They are in a vehicle in another part of this complex identified as ‘Hangar 20’. From what I overheard, they’re planning on leaving them there until someone else arrives. I don’t know who.”
“Doctors,” whispered the nurse who had been standing mute during this discussion. “They’re waiting for doctors—scientists, really—who are due here tomorrow morning.”
This news seemed to stun Spade’s alien. He turned away and faced the wall, as if trying to digest this latest bad development. At least it sounded like a bad development to Spade. He had no idea what the “sacs” were, but he was willing to bet those “sacs” were exactly what the dead alien had been protecting.
Spade pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, momentarily leaning on the nurse for support. “Where’s the truck?”
Alien #2 turned ice-cold eyes on him. Spade felt his skin prickle. “Do not presume to address me, human. You killed one of ours.”
“I did not kill him!” Spade protested. “That was someone else who panicked when they saw him. But he did admit killing two of mine, so you can just shut the hell up!”
“Tell me what he said,” demanded Spade’s alien, with a warning glance to Alien #2 that clearly said, “Don’t throw him against the wall until he answers.” “You said he surrendered. What did he tell you?”
“Not much,” Spade said, with a resentful glance at Alien #2. “He said your ship crashed, that’s all. He offered what he knew about your technology in exchange for his life. Then my buddy ran in and freaked out, and shot him.”
“What did he say about why we are here?” demanded Alien #2.
“Nothing,” Spade said. “Although that’s a fair question. Why are you here? Did you come to take over the Earth?”
“Idiot,” Alien #2 announced derisively. “Why would we want to do that? What could you possibly have that we would want?”
“Something, obviously,” Spade said defensively. “You must have come here for a reason. Or perhaps you’d like me to believe this is all just a big mistake?”
“Well, what do you know?” Alien #2 said flatly, with a pointed stare at Spade’s alien. “The human got it right. Coming here was a mistake. How pathetic that a lesser species could figure that out, but we couldn’t.”
“Silence!” snapped Spade’s alien. Spade looked from one to the other, assessing the relationship. His alien was clearly senior to the second judging by the way he issued orders. But the way the second alien resentfully obeyed those orders was a dead giveaway of a strained chain of command.
“What’s done is done,” Spade’s alien was saying to Alien #2. “There is no going back now.”
“Yes, you made sure of that, didn’t you?” Alien #2 said coldly.
“This is unproductive,” Spade’s alien said curtly. “We need to heal Urza now more than ever, so he can help us rescue the sacs.”
“No,” came a weak voice from the nearby stretcher.
Everyone turned. Spade had forgotten about the injured alien; for the past several minutes it had appeared asleep, or unconscious, or worse. The nurse, who had remained wide-eyed and silent during this discussion, moved to the creature’s side.
“They have something that will help you,” she said gently. “I can’t help you.”
“You have kept others away, and I am grateful for that,” the creature said, laying a huge, gray hand over the nurse’s. Spade inwardly recoiled at the thought of one of those…things touching him, but the nurse didn’t seem to mind. “But you must go now,” it went on, turning to address the two human-looking aliens, “and rescue our Wards.”
“Urza, we have the stones….” began Spade’s alien.
“…but you don’t have the energy to use them,” the creature argued. “Look at Jaddo; he looks terrible. He has no strength to spare, and you don’t have much more. If you expend what little strength you have helping me, you will not have enough left to rescue our Wards. Rescue them first, then come back and get me.”
To Spade’s surprise, the creature turned its head to look at him. “Will you help them?”
Spade paused, feeling all eyes upon him as he glanced at the bullet-ridden body lying only feet away. Multiple gunshot wounds at point-blank range—the creature hadn’t stood a chance. Helping them rescue their injured comrades was one thing, and something he felt partially responsible for. But he wasn’t sure about this—what would he be rescuing this time?
“What are these sacs?” he asked.
Alien #2 started to protest, but the creature interrupted him with surprising firmness. “No, Jaddo. That is a fair question.” It turned its head toward Spade. “The sacs contain more of our people.”
“Why are they in ‘sacs’?”
“Because they have not yet been born,” the creature replied.
“You mean….they’re your children?” the nurse ventured.
All three aliens exchanged glances. “In a manner of speaking,” the creature answered.
“Why would you bring your children here?” the nurse wondered.
“Because we thought they would be safer here,” Alien #2 replied, the word “safer” wreathed in sarcasm. “Some safe haven this turned out to be.”
“I hate to say this, being that he’s such a jackass and all,” Spade said, glaring at Alien #2, “but he has a point. You’ll scare the bejesus out of us—that’s why your friend is dead. Why would you think this is a safe place?”
“Our enemies cannot follow us here,” the creature said in a tired voice, “and we did not intend for our ship to crash. If things had gone as planned, no one would ever have known we were here. We would have waited for our people to be born, then left without a trace.”
“Brivari, we are wasting time giving explanations to people who don’t deserve them,” Alien #2 said with a dark glance at Spade. “Urza is right. We should retrieve our Wards, then come back.”
“Before you go, there is something we must settle, you and I,” the creature said to Spade’s alien. “If I do not survive, the promise I made to keep silent is moot. You should know what happened.”
Spade watched the alien and the creature on the stretcher lock eyes for a moment. Clearly there was unfinished business here, and Spade knew all about unfinished business. There wasn’t a soldier out there who didn’t.
“We don’t have time for this!” argued Alien #2. “We should leave now.”
Spade glanced at the clock and thought fast. “No, you shouldn’t,” he said. “You might not make it back. Or your friend might not survive. Settle whatever you have to settle now, while you have the chance. You might not get another.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Alien #2 said coldly.
“If you had any working brain cells, you would,” Spade replied just as coldly. “I know this base. You’re a damned fool if you don’t ask my opinion.”
Alien #2 eyes flashed dangerously. “I told you to stay out of this, human. I will not warn you again.”
“Sure. Fine. I’ll stay out of it,” Spade retorted. “You’re down behind enemy lines and I’m willing to help you, but don’t let that cloud whatever you have that passes for judgment. I’ll just let you blunder around the base, having no idea where you’re going, walking into patrols I could steer you around, and setting off alarms I could warn you about. Go right ahead. Knock yourself out.”
Alien #2 glared, but silently, proving that Spade had hit a nerve. Spade turned to his alien, the leader, the one who Spade knew would make the final call. “I got you here,” Spade said, “and I can get you there. I know this place like the back of my hand. Who are you going to listen to—this hothead, or me?”
Silence. Spade’s alien regarded him closely, and Spade forced himself to hold that penetrating stare, refusing to look away.
Finally, the alien spoke. “Why?”
Spade blinked. He was expecting a “yay” or “nay”, not “why”.
“Why? Why what?”
Spade’s alien took a step closer, as Spade forced himself to disobey the instinct to back up. “You offered me assistance before despite my forcing you to accompany me. And now you offer it again. Why?”
Spade swallowed hard and glanced at the bullet ridden body nearby. “Because of that. That was wrong. I accepted his surrender, and then my buddy ran in and panicked.”
“But that wasn’t your fault,” the nurse interrupted gently. “You aren’t responsible for that.”
“I accepted his surrender,” Spade said firmly. “That makes me responsible for his safety.” He looked at his alien, who was watching him closely. “Let me fix this, as much as I can fix it. They’re taking what doesn’t belong to them, and despite Mr. Congeniality here, I don’t believe you came here to hurt us. I could tell your ship crashed several days ago at least. If you were going to hurt us, you had plenty of time to start.”
After a moment, Spade’s alien nodded slowly. “What do you suggest?” he asked, as Alien #2 huffed in exasperation.
Spade pointed to the clock. “You see that? It’s almost 2300 hours. At 2400 hours there’ll be a shift change—the guards will be replaced. We’re low on people because we’ve got everyone available out there picking your ship clean before the public gets wind of what’s happened, but there’ll be at least two guards at each entrance to the hangar. You were there,” he said to Alien #2. “Am I right?”
Alien #2’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded.
“Perfect,” Spade said. “You two will be the shift change for one of those sets of guards. We’ll go about ten minutes early and you’ll relieve the other two. They won’t mind leaving a little early. That should give you about ten minutes to get in there and get what you want, then double back here for your…..man.”
“Or we could go now and simply dispose of the existing guards,” Alien #2 argued.
“Bad idea,” Spade said firmly. “That hangar is a much busier area than down here. Anybody yells, somebody’ll likely come running fast. Your best bet is to be quiet. What you want isn’t just in that one place. Don’t give yourselves away before you have everything you came for.”
He waited. No one said anything. Spade tried again. “This is the safest way to get what you’re after, and until then, the safest place to be is right here. Right where no one’s paying any attention, because they think all that’s down here are two dead bodies.”
“What about the guard outside?” Spade’s alien asked. “Not to mention the guard at your room. Delaying means someone will notice they are not at their posts.”
Damn! Spade had forgotten about that. He turned to the nurse. “How often does the guard outside this door check in? Every hour?”
“More like every two or three hours,” she replied. “They think they’re both dead, and I’ve encouraged that all day. They’re just waiting for the doctors to get here, and……”
The nurse stopped and bit her lip. No use saying out loud what those doctors would do to the creatures when they got here. Carve them into little pieces, most likely.
“Then we’re set,” Spade said. “My guard hadn’t checked in with anyone since they brought me here, and her guard just checked in. We have time. So have your pow wow. Just be done in about forty-five minutes or so.”
Spade’s alien gave a curt nod. “Leave us.”
“We can’t leave,” the nurse objected. “There’s nowhere safe for us to go. But I can pull the curtain, and we’ll wait over there. That would give you a little privacy, at least.”
God, I hope this works, Spade thought, as the nurse pulled the curtain closed. If it did, everyone wouldn’t walk away happy—especially Cavitt—but everyone would walk away. And if he was very, very lucky, he might be able to get them out of here without further bloodshed.
July 7, 1947, 2245 hours
Eagle Rock Military Base
Yvonne White waited, bracing herself as she faced down the military policeman standing before her. She’d been playing out likely scenarios in her head for the past two hours, and was glad it was only an MP she had to face—now she could use the excuse most likely to work.
“You can’t have them,” Yvonne repeated when the MP didn’t respond. “My orders were to stay with the prisoners until medical personnel arrived to move them.” That was a bald-faced lie, but it just might work. MP’s usually shied away from anything medical. This might buy more time. The creature was still healing itself, but very, very slowly, and Yvonne knew that if anyone learned it was alive, it would not be allowed to finish.
“I beg your pardon?” the MP replied in an icy tone.
Yvonne hesitated. This was not the response she expected. The Army, like any military unit, functioned on the basis of orders: What the orders were, and who gave them. Any challenges were answered by producing those orders and announcing who issued them. The MP should have produced his orders, or demanded that she produce her orders.
The unfamiliar soldier standing behind the MP was making weird gestures, pointing first at the two aliens on the nearby stretchers, barely visible in the gloom, then at the MP. Yvonne hadn’t the faintest idea why he was going through all those gymnastics. Yes, the MP wanted to take the aliens. And no, she wasn’t going to let him if she could help it. The three of them stood there, staring at each other, the zippy jazz music floating from the radio sounding completely incongruent.
The MP held up his hand. Yvonne assumed she was being handed the requisite orders, and was surprised to find the hand empty. It was merely extended, palm forward, in the oddest fashion. What was he doing?
She didn’t have time to ask the question. “Duck! yelled the soldier, and Yvonne instinctively obeyed.
She wasn’t quite quick enough. Something clipped her shoulder, sending her sprawling on the floor. Completely confused as to why a military policeman would be attacking her, or what he was attacking her with, she looked up at the MP—and gasped.
His eyes had gone black. Inky black, depthless black, no-pupil black. Sweet Jesus. They could make themselves look human.
“You’re one of them,” she whispered.
“Brilliant,” the false MP deadpanned, as he held up his hand again.
“Stop!” came a weak voice from the corner.
Every head, human and alien, swiveled toward the source. The MP’s—the alien’s—hand fell slowly to his side. “Urza?” he whispered.
“Brivari, stop,” the voice continued, barely above a whisper. “She was kind to me. Do not harm her.”
The soldier pushed past the alien and hurried over to Yvonne, taking her hand and pulling her to her feet. “Are you all right?” he asked, holding her by her shoulders.
Yvonne nodded shakily, still in a daze. “I’m fine,” she answered, not really certain that was true, and too preoccupied to care. “He….looks human,” she finished in a whisper.
The soldier glanced over at the alien MP. “Yeah,” he said heavily.
“And they talk?” Yvonne asked, staring at the creature on the nearest stretcher. She had never heard it speak, had not even known it could speak. And speak English, no less.
“Oh, yeah,” the soldier responded. “Better than we do.”
Ignoring Yvonne and the soldier completely, the alien MP had moved to the creature’s side. “You’re alive!” the alien said with obvious relief. “Thank goodness!”
“Did the child escape?” the creature whispered. The alien nodded.
The creature closed its eyes. “Good. She was the only reason either of us ever had a chance. Even though…..” It stopped, as though unwilling to continue, and turned its head.
Everyone followed its gaze to the second creature, the dead-looking one, further back in the shadows of the room. It was dark back there, too dark to see clearly. Only one light glowed, the one at Yvonne’s desk. She had discovered by trial and error that the live creature seemed to relax more when the room was darkened, and had kept the room dark ever since.
“I’ll get the light,” Yvonne said in a tentative voice.
The alien held up his hand, not threateningly this time, but as if to say, “No need.” The lights in the room rose of their own volition to a dim glow, and the music abruptly ceased. Yvonne looked in wonderment at the soldier beside her; he seemed not the least bit surprised. She wondered if he was working with the aliens or held hostage by them. If it was the latter, he wasn’t making a run for it.
Moving to stand beside the second creature’s stretcher, the alien looked back at the first creature, which shook its head. “I have not been able to examine him closely,” the creature said sadly, “but I think he’s dead.”
And then the alien had turned his eyes, normal eyes now, toward Yvonne, and she recognized the expression. She’d seen that look of shock hundreds of times in hundreds of pairs of eyes across the world. This was familiar ground.
“I’m not familiar with your people,” she said softly, “but I haven’t detected any signs of life since they brought him in. I’m not certain we’d know what to do for him if there were. Is there something you can do?”
“He has head wounds,” the alien replied in a stricken voice. His face had gone ashen, his expression one of utter disbelief. “Other wounds I could repair, but not these.”
The alien reached out and stroked the creature’s gray head in a gesture so human, Yvonne felt a lump forming in her throat. She made it her business not to get involved in the deaths of her patients. She couldn’t—she would have gone mad. She had watched countless family members stand before their dead loved ones and stroke them just this way with her medical mask firmly in place. So why was this affecting her so much? Was it because she hadn’t expected grief—real grief—from another species?
Yvonne glanced around the room. The soldier beside her was staring fixedly at the dead alien, his jaw twitching, the look on his face not one of shock or revulsion, which she would have expected, but one of anger. The first creature was silent, its eyes closed, as if its brief burst of communication had consumed all its energy. As usual, it was up to her to be strong for the grieving relatives. She moved cautiously to the end of the stretcher.
“Was….he…a member of your family?”
“He was my friend,” the alien replied, still stroking the huge head. “A very old and dear friend.”
“I’m sorry,” Yvonne said gently. Two words, two and half, really, that no matter how sincerely spoken, always seemed inadequate to the enormity of the loss of a life. “Is there anything we can do?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Brivari stood before Valeris’s body, too shocked and saddened to curse fate. This was the second time in as many weeks that he had stood before a body in a dimly lit room with his heart broken. Do we even have hearts to break? he wondered, knowing full well that many on his world would argue they did not. Covari had no family, no parents, siblings, spouses, or children like others did. Their only ties were to those they worked for and with. Valeris had been his oldest friend, the only one he trusted completely.
And now Valeris was dead, and the stones in Brivari’s pocket which could have healed even grievous wounds were nothing but useless rocks. Even the stones could not help a brain injury. Without the brain, there was no way to bring a shapeshifter back.
The human female was speaking, asking if there was any way she could help, and Brivari felt a small smile breaking through his sadness. She was kind to me, Urza had said. Urza did have a way with the ladies, be he wounded or well. Even Ava had loved Urza, taking him with her and Vilandra when they went out together, leaving Valeris behind with his science. No one had minded this arrangement, least of all Urza.
But now was not the time to wallow in nostalgia. Brivari turned to the soldier standing beside the female. “You know what happened, don’t you?” The soldier nodded. “Tell me,” Brivari demanded.
“He was surrendering, and they shot him,” the soldier replied quietly.
“Why?”
“Why?” the soldier echoed. “Because he scared the daylights out of them, that’s why. Because they were afraid he would attack.”
“He was a scientist,” Brivari whispered, looking down at Valeris. “He was no threat to them.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” the soldier countered. “I watched him kill two of my friends. He admitted it.”
“And so you killed him in retaliation,” said a sharp voice from the door.
Everyone turned, startled, as a hand appeared in the doorway, pointing straight at the soldier, who went flying against the far wall with a thud.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Private Spade had the presence of mind to pull his head forward as he flew back toward the wall. I’m getting good at this, he thought grimly. A few more tries, and I’ll have it down pat.
He didn’t hit as hard has he thought he would. The energy that pushed him backwards this time was more like a strong shove, nothing at all like the log to the chest the first alien had used. This one was weaker than the first, assuming it was an alien. And what else could it be? Wonderful. Two of them.
Weaker or no, Spade still found himself sprawled on the floor--again. This was getting old fast. The first one had a right to get some licks in, but what was up with this one? “Would you people knock it off?!” he exploded in frustration, as he looked up and saw the hand still extended, still poised to strike. But then help arrived from an unlikely source.
“Stop!” the first alien roared, flinging up his own hand. A burst of green light shot from it, forming a flat wall between Spade and the second alien. He heard the nurse gasp, watched her move sideways to join him on the far side of that shimmering green wall. Good idea, sweetheart. He had no idea what that was, but he instinctively knew he was safer on this side of it. At least for the moment.
“Identify!” commanded Spade’s alien.
The hand in the doorway hesitated, then dropped. A man, a disheveled, exhausted, but perfectly normal looking man appeared in the doorway with a look of astonishment on his face.
Spade’s alien closed his hand, and the shimmering green wall disappeared. “Jaddo?”
“Who else would I be?” Alien #2 demanded angrily. “And where have you been? Do you have any idea how long I spent looking for you? I thought you were dead!”
By way of answer, Spade’s alien held up a small bag which produced raised eyebrows from Alien #2. “Where did you find them?”
“Not now,” Spade’s alien said shortly. “We need to use them on Urza, then rescue the sacs.” He paused and took a deep breath, as though his next words were difficult to speak. “Valeris is dead.”
“I am not surprised,” Alien #2 said unemotionally. “He looked dead when I last saw him.”
Spade’s alien threw him a withering look. “I said Valeris is dead, Jaddo. Is that the best you can do?”
“What would you have me do?” Alien #2 snapped. “Dissolve in grief deep in enemy territory? This is neither the time nor the place, Brivari. We have a bigger problem. The sacs are here.”
“Here?” Spade’s alien replied sharply.
“They found them. They are in a vehicle in another part of this complex identified as ‘Hangar 20’. From what I overheard, they’re planning on leaving them there until someone else arrives. I don’t know who.”
“Doctors,” whispered the nurse who had been standing mute during this discussion. “They’re waiting for doctors—scientists, really—who are due here tomorrow morning.”
This news seemed to stun Spade’s alien. He turned away and faced the wall, as if trying to digest this latest bad development. At least it sounded like a bad development to Spade. He had no idea what the “sacs” were, but he was willing to bet those “sacs” were exactly what the dead alien had been protecting.
Spade pushed himself unsteadily to his feet, momentarily leaning on the nurse for support. “Where’s the truck?”
Alien #2 turned ice-cold eyes on him. Spade felt his skin prickle. “Do not presume to address me, human. You killed one of ours.”
“I did not kill him!” Spade protested. “That was someone else who panicked when they saw him. But he did admit killing two of mine, so you can just shut the hell up!”
“Tell me what he said,” demanded Spade’s alien, with a warning glance to Alien #2 that clearly said, “Don’t throw him against the wall until he answers.” “You said he surrendered. What did he tell you?”
“Not much,” Spade said, with a resentful glance at Alien #2. “He said your ship crashed, that’s all. He offered what he knew about your technology in exchange for his life. Then my buddy ran in and freaked out, and shot him.”
“What did he say about why we are here?” demanded Alien #2.
“Nothing,” Spade said. “Although that’s a fair question. Why are you here? Did you come to take over the Earth?”
“Idiot,” Alien #2 announced derisively. “Why would we want to do that? What could you possibly have that we would want?”
“Something, obviously,” Spade said defensively. “You must have come here for a reason. Or perhaps you’d like me to believe this is all just a big mistake?”
“Well, what do you know?” Alien #2 said flatly, with a pointed stare at Spade’s alien. “The human got it right. Coming here was a mistake. How pathetic that a lesser species could figure that out, but we couldn’t.”
“Silence!” snapped Spade’s alien. Spade looked from one to the other, assessing the relationship. His alien was clearly senior to the second judging by the way he issued orders. But the way the second alien resentfully obeyed those orders was a dead giveaway of a strained chain of command.
“What’s done is done,” Spade’s alien was saying to Alien #2. “There is no going back now.”
“Yes, you made sure of that, didn’t you?” Alien #2 said coldly.
“This is unproductive,” Spade’s alien said curtly. “We need to heal Urza now more than ever, so he can help us rescue the sacs.”
“No,” came a weak voice from the nearby stretcher.
Everyone turned. Spade had forgotten about the injured alien; for the past several minutes it had appeared asleep, or unconscious, or worse. The nurse, who had remained wide-eyed and silent during this discussion, moved to the creature’s side.
“They have something that will help you,” she said gently. “I can’t help you.”
“You have kept others away, and I am grateful for that,” the creature said, laying a huge, gray hand over the nurse’s. Spade inwardly recoiled at the thought of one of those…things touching him, but the nurse didn’t seem to mind. “But you must go now,” it went on, turning to address the two human-looking aliens, “and rescue our Wards.”
“Urza, we have the stones….” began Spade’s alien.
“…but you don’t have the energy to use them,” the creature argued. “Look at Jaddo; he looks terrible. He has no strength to spare, and you don’t have much more. If you expend what little strength you have helping me, you will not have enough left to rescue our Wards. Rescue them first, then come back and get me.”
To Spade’s surprise, the creature turned its head to look at him. “Will you help them?”
Spade paused, feeling all eyes upon him as he glanced at the bullet-ridden body lying only feet away. Multiple gunshot wounds at point-blank range—the creature hadn’t stood a chance. Helping them rescue their injured comrades was one thing, and something he felt partially responsible for. But he wasn’t sure about this—what would he be rescuing this time?
“What are these sacs?” he asked.
Alien #2 started to protest, but the creature interrupted him with surprising firmness. “No, Jaddo. That is a fair question.” It turned its head toward Spade. “The sacs contain more of our people.”
“Why are they in ‘sacs’?”
“Because they have not yet been born,” the creature replied.
“You mean….they’re your children?” the nurse ventured.
All three aliens exchanged glances. “In a manner of speaking,” the creature answered.
“Why would you bring your children here?” the nurse wondered.
“Because we thought they would be safer here,” Alien #2 replied, the word “safer” wreathed in sarcasm. “Some safe haven this turned out to be.”
“I hate to say this, being that he’s such a jackass and all,” Spade said, glaring at Alien #2, “but he has a point. You’ll scare the bejesus out of us—that’s why your friend is dead. Why would you think this is a safe place?”
“Our enemies cannot follow us here,” the creature said in a tired voice, “and we did not intend for our ship to crash. If things had gone as planned, no one would ever have known we were here. We would have waited for our people to be born, then left without a trace.”
“Brivari, we are wasting time giving explanations to people who don’t deserve them,” Alien #2 said with a dark glance at Spade. “Urza is right. We should retrieve our Wards, then come back.”
“Before you go, there is something we must settle, you and I,” the creature said to Spade’s alien. “If I do not survive, the promise I made to keep silent is moot. You should know what happened.”
Spade watched the alien and the creature on the stretcher lock eyes for a moment. Clearly there was unfinished business here, and Spade knew all about unfinished business. There wasn’t a soldier out there who didn’t.
“We don’t have time for this!” argued Alien #2. “We should leave now.”
Spade glanced at the clock and thought fast. “No, you shouldn’t,” he said. “You might not make it back. Or your friend might not survive. Settle whatever you have to settle now, while you have the chance. You might not get another.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” Alien #2 said coldly.
“If you had any working brain cells, you would,” Spade replied just as coldly. “I know this base. You’re a damned fool if you don’t ask my opinion.”
Alien #2 eyes flashed dangerously. “I told you to stay out of this, human. I will not warn you again.”
“Sure. Fine. I’ll stay out of it,” Spade retorted. “You’re down behind enemy lines and I’m willing to help you, but don’t let that cloud whatever you have that passes for judgment. I’ll just let you blunder around the base, having no idea where you’re going, walking into patrols I could steer you around, and setting off alarms I could warn you about. Go right ahead. Knock yourself out.”
Alien #2 glared, but silently, proving that Spade had hit a nerve. Spade turned to his alien, the leader, the one who Spade knew would make the final call. “I got you here,” Spade said, “and I can get you there. I know this place like the back of my hand. Who are you going to listen to—this hothead, or me?”
Silence. Spade’s alien regarded him closely, and Spade forced himself to hold that penetrating stare, refusing to look away.
Finally, the alien spoke. “Why?”
Spade blinked. He was expecting a “yay” or “nay”, not “why”.
“Why? Why what?”
Spade’s alien took a step closer, as Spade forced himself to disobey the instinct to back up. “You offered me assistance before despite my forcing you to accompany me. And now you offer it again. Why?”
Spade swallowed hard and glanced at the bullet ridden body nearby. “Because of that. That was wrong. I accepted his surrender, and then my buddy ran in and panicked.”
“But that wasn’t your fault,” the nurse interrupted gently. “You aren’t responsible for that.”
“I accepted his surrender,” Spade said firmly. “That makes me responsible for his safety.” He looked at his alien, who was watching him closely. “Let me fix this, as much as I can fix it. They’re taking what doesn’t belong to them, and despite Mr. Congeniality here, I don’t believe you came here to hurt us. I could tell your ship crashed several days ago at least. If you were going to hurt us, you had plenty of time to start.”
After a moment, Spade’s alien nodded slowly. “What do you suggest?” he asked, as Alien #2 huffed in exasperation.
Spade pointed to the clock. “You see that? It’s almost 2300 hours. At 2400 hours there’ll be a shift change—the guards will be replaced. We’re low on people because we’ve got everyone available out there picking your ship clean before the public gets wind of what’s happened, but there’ll be at least two guards at each entrance to the hangar. You were there,” he said to Alien #2. “Am I right?”
Alien #2’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded.
“Perfect,” Spade said. “You two will be the shift change for one of those sets of guards. We’ll go about ten minutes early and you’ll relieve the other two. They won’t mind leaving a little early. That should give you about ten minutes to get in there and get what you want, then double back here for your…..man.”
“Or we could go now and simply dispose of the existing guards,” Alien #2 argued.
“Bad idea,” Spade said firmly. “That hangar is a much busier area than down here. Anybody yells, somebody’ll likely come running fast. Your best bet is to be quiet. What you want isn’t just in that one place. Don’t give yourselves away before you have everything you came for.”
He waited. No one said anything. Spade tried again. “This is the safest way to get what you’re after, and until then, the safest place to be is right here. Right where no one’s paying any attention, because they think all that’s down here are two dead bodies.”
“What about the guard outside?” Spade’s alien asked. “Not to mention the guard at your room. Delaying means someone will notice they are not at their posts.”
Damn! Spade had forgotten about that. He turned to the nurse. “How often does the guard outside this door check in? Every hour?”
“More like every two or three hours,” she replied. “They think they’re both dead, and I’ve encouraged that all day. They’re just waiting for the doctors to get here, and……”
The nurse stopped and bit her lip. No use saying out loud what those doctors would do to the creatures when they got here. Carve them into little pieces, most likely.
“Then we’re set,” Spade said. “My guard hadn’t checked in with anyone since they brought me here, and her guard just checked in. We have time. So have your pow wow. Just be done in about forty-five minutes or so.”
Spade’s alien gave a curt nod. “Leave us.”
“We can’t leave,” the nurse objected. “There’s nowhere safe for us to go. But I can pull the curtain, and we’ll wait over there. That would give you a little privacy, at least.”
God, I hope this works, Spade thought, as the nurse pulled the curtain closed. If it did, everyone wouldn’t walk away happy—especially Cavitt—but everyone would walk away. And if he was very, very lucky, he might be able to get them out of here without further bloodshed.
Part 46
PART FORTY-SIX
July 7, 1947, 2255 hours
Eagle Rock Military Base
An awkward silence descended as the nurse pulled the curtain to block their view of the aliens on the other side. Private Spade studied her for a moment in the dim light of the desk lamp. She was a Lieutenant, and quite a pretty one at that, with large brown eyes and beautiful dark hair. Her fragile appearance belied the strength she had just demonstrated.
“So,” he said, eager to fill the silence. “What’s your name?”
The nurse returned his smile. He wasn’t surprised to find she had a nice smile. “Yvonne White. What’s yours?”
“Spade. Private Spade, ma’am.”
“I meant your first name. The one your mama uses.”
A nice smile, and she drove a hard bargain. “No one gets to use that but Mama,” Spade said with mock seriousness. “Call me Stephen.” He glanced toward the closed curtain. “How did you come to be mixed up in all this?”
“The same way you did, most likely,” Yvonne replied. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She frowned. “Or perhaps I should say the right place at the right time.”
“What do you mean?”
Leaning in toward him, Yvonne whispered, “It’s healing itself. The creature on the stretcher, I mean. It’s been healing itself all day. I’ve been able to keep anyone from learning that because the doctors they called aren’t here yet, but once they get here…….” She bit her lip and glanced toward the curtain. “I just hope they can help it before the doctors get here. It will never survive what they’re going to do to it.” She crossed her arms in front of her and hugged herself as if she were cold. “Why are you helping them?”
“Ladies first. Why are you helping them?”
Yvonne smiled. “Lady or no, I outrank you, Private. You first.”
Spade stared at her for a moment before breaking into a smile. He was surrounded by people who wouldn’t give an inch. All kinds of people. Even non-human people.
“Why don’t you have some coffee while you tell me all about it,” Yvonne said, indicating the pot and settling back in her chair. The issue of who was going first had definitely been settled.
“Yes ma’am,” Spade agreed, still smiling. Dealing with grumpy aliens wasn’t so bad if one got to sit and have coffee with a pretty girl. There were worse things in life.
But first, he needed to find the little boy’s room. He’d needed to pee a good hour ago, and his back teeth were nearly floating.
******************************************************
<Brivari, we should leave now,> Jaddo argued when they were alone. <The sooner we get the sacs, the sooner we can return for Urza.>
<You should listen to the human,> Urza said weakly from his prone position on the stretcher. <He knows this place better than you do.>
<And what if they move them?> Jaddo asked, ignoring Urza. <Or what if the human is deliberately keeping us here to give them time to move them?>
Brivari shook his head. <He has been with me for almost an hour, and he was incarcerated before that; it’s unlikely he would know about them. I’m guessing the sacs won’t be moved until the scientists they’ve called have arrived. We can wait.> He turned to Urza. <I take it you are now willing to break your promise?>
<At this point, there is some doubt I will be around to fulfill the entire promise,> Urza said wearily. <Someone else might need to handle the situation in my stead. And that someone will need to know what they are dealing with. I am prepared to tell you everything.>
<Wonderful,> grumbled Jaddo. <Here we sit in enemy territory because Urza wants to tell you something. Far be it from me to interrupt.>
<This will interest you too, Jaddo,> Urza said.
<How?> Jaddo retorted. <What could you possibly have to say that would interest me?>
<You want to know how Rath knew Khivar was coming, don’t you?> Urza whispered. <How he knew to reach the gate before they arrived? Isn’t that what keeps you awake at night?>
Jaddo’s face froze. Brivari slowly turned to look at him. <Rath knew?> he asked, in the same, dangerous tone he had used in the stasis chamber on the ship when he and Jaddo had had words. <You never told me that.>
<Of course I didn’t,> Jaddo replied stonily. <I know Rath did not betray Zan. He did not have it in him. He even had the chance, and he turned it down. If I had told you, you would have jumped to conclusions—the wrong conclusions.>
<And where were you, while Rath was busy not betraying the King?>
Jaddo looked away. <I was upstairs, watching from a window, as he commanded. I had no idea what he was doing. We didn’t yet know what was happening. But Rath did. Somehow, he did.>
Brivari took a moment to digest this new information. He had known that Rath had fought, of course, with whatever soldiers he could muster on such short notice. But he’d had no idea that Rath had known ahead of time that the Argilians were coming.
<Urza, here, assures me that Rath was no traitor, but he refuses to say how he came by that information,> Jaddo went on irritably. <I take it you’re ready to share now?>
Brivari leaned in closer to Urza. He knew he shouldn’t be pressuring him now, when he was wounded and exhausted, but the desire to know, to finally learn what had destroyed that which he had worked so hard to build was too powerful. <Who did it, Urza? Who was the traitor?>
Urza looked away and was silent for a long moment, as though gathering strength to answer the question. He’s going to say it’s him, Brivari thought with shock. But how could it be? How could Urza possibly have betrayed Zan?
Finally, Urza turned back to Brivari, a look of resignation on his face. He spoke only one word, the one Brivari least expected to hear.
<Vilandra.>
<What?!> Jaddo erupted. <Honestly, Urza, this is no time for games! Do you really expect us to believe Vilandra did this?> He looked to Brivari for support, but Brivari was speechless, staring. Remembering.
“I should have watched her, stopped her, long before it came to this.”
“She was young and foolish, and she thought she was in love. She didn’t realize what she was dealing with.”
“Why should her brother get to choose his mate while she did not?”
Urza’s words, so incomprehensible when spoken in his quarters last night, suddenly came into horrible focus. Here he’d been mentally running down lists of soldiers, servants, dissidents like Orlon, anyone he could think of. And all along, the answer was right under his nose. Not to mention the answer to the identity of the one the rogue Covari had spoken of.
“She will live again, and the others will be treated to a glorious public execution.”
<Oh, my God……> Brivari whispered.
Jaddo was looking at him with alarm. <Brivari, you can’t possibly believe this. She wasn’t capable of it! Vilandra was just too stupid to pull off anything like …….>
He never finished. Jaddo flew into the air, arcing gracefully backwards until he hit the wall with a thump and slid down to the floor.
Brivari looked at Urza, who had struggled to one elbow, the other arm raised, palm extended, eyes blazing with energy he couldn’t afford to expend. <Don’t you ever talk about my Ward that way again, or I swear I’ll kill you!> Urza said angrily. <With my dying breath, if need be!>
<Enough!> snapped Brivari. Jaddo was struggling to stand up, but Urza’s mental grip still held him firm. <Urza, release him! Now!>
Slowly, Urza dropped his hand and sank back onto the stretcher. Jaddo pulled himself to his feet, managing to look surprised, embarrassed, and downright furious all at once.
<You’re very fond of referring to Vilandra as ‘stupid’, aren’t you?> Urza said flatly to Jaddo. <What I’m about to tell you should convince you otherwise. And when I’m finished, you’ll wish she really had been as stupid as you thought she was.>
******************************************************
“That’s awful,” Yvonne said sympathetically, tracing her finger around the rim of her coffee cup. “But you do realize that it wasn’t your fault, don’t you? You didn’t shoot him—your friend did.”
“It was my responsibility,” Spade said tightly, leaning back in his chair with his coffee cup on his lap. “You saw that thing—West filled it so full of holes it looks like alien Swiss cheese. I couldn’t look at it at the time, but when I saw it just now, laying there, I….” He paused, swallowing. “The safety of prisoners rests with those who capture them. He surrendered to me; I captured him. This one’s on my tab.”
Yvonne shook her head vigorously. “We can’t control what others do, Stephen. We can try, but the only actions we have any real control over are our own. You’re only responsible for your behavior, not anyone else’s. You can’t atone for something you didn’t do.”
“It’s not just that thing getting shot,” Spade said, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes. God, he was tired. He could really use a nap right about now. “It’s the whole ‘lie about it’ business. They want me to say it attacked, but it didn’t. And they want me to say it didn’t attack earlier, but it did. Talk about screwed up.” He sighed. “The thing is, if you’d asked me yesterday if my CO’s would ever ask me to lie like this, I’d have said no, no way. I just can’t believe this.”
“They’re scared,” Yvonne murmured, with a glance at the closed curtain. “Everyone is scared. Even them. Everyone is reacting out of fear. That’s never a good thing.”
“If you ask me, it’s not all about fear, at least not on this side of the canyon,” Spade said darkly. “I think it’s more about power.” He followed her gaze toward the other side of the room. “Why do you suppose it’s so quiet?” he asked, eyeing the curtain. “I thought they had lots to talk about.”
“Perhaps they have another way of communicating,” Yvonne said. “A more private way.”
Both of them jumped as a sudden thump shook the room. Looking at the curtain, Spade was astonished to see the shadow of what looked like a body flat against the wall. It slid to the floor, then struggled to get up, as if pushing against some invisible force.
Spade whistled softly through his teeth. “It appears they do have another means of communication,” he said to Yvonne, “but it doesn’t look very private. And I must admit, it’s nice to know they do that to each other too.”
******************************************************
<She was in love with him, wasn’t she?> Brivari said in a toneless voice.
Urza gave a half nod, and turned his head away from Brivari. That meant he had to look in Jaddo’s direction, but for once, that was preferable. Jaddo would be angry and disdainful, as usual, but that would be easier to take than Brivari’s inevitable crushing disappointment. Besides, he cared what Brivari thought of him; he was beyond caring what Jaddo thought. Jaddo could never abide either him or his Ward, and was no doubt about to feel vindicated.
<She thought she was, at least,> Urza said.
<She was in love with whom?> Jaddo demanded impatiently.
<Khivar,> Urza sighed, and shuddered a little. Finally saying that out loud made him cold. <Vilandra was in love with Khivar.>
Jaddo opened his mouth as if to begin another rant, then closed it as the implications of that statement began to sink in. For once in his life, he apparently could think of nothing to say.
<I had heard reports that she was having an affair, but not who with. How? When?> Brivari asked, still in that toneless voice. He wasn’t looking at Urza, and his expression was blank.
<I caught them meeting each other in secret in the palace. I sent him packing and went immediately to the King.>
<Of course you did,> Jaddo said with uncharacteristic approval.
Urza shook his head. <That was a mistake. Zan and Vilandra had a huge fight. I did not like the look in her eyes. She was wild, panicky. I tried to tell him that—I knew his sister better than he did. But Zan tried to remedy the situation by forcing the issue. The next morning he announced her betrothal to Rath, and Vilandra locked herself in her room.>
<What do you know of this?> Jaddo asked Brivari.
Brivari was still looking away, with that disturbing blank expression. <I knew about the fight, of course; you can’t hide something like that in a palace,> he answered. <But Zan and Vilandra fighting was not uncommon, nor was Vilandra flouncing off to pout. I asked Zan what this latest upheaval was about, and he brushed me off, saying he’d already dealt with it. He wouldn’t tell me,> Brivari said in a low voice, <and I didn’t press him. If I had known……> His voice trailed off.
<Vilandra stayed in her room for days,> Urza went on, <insisting she would not come out until she was afforded the same privilege as her brother—the right to choose her own mate. Then she abruptly changed. She announced to Zan that she had decided he was right and proceeded to immerse herself in wedding plans. She acted completely transformed.>
<And she was lying,> Jaddo said flatly.
<Yes,> Urza sighed, nodding weakly. <She continued to meet Khivar at the palace and communicate with him via courier. I didn’t realize this for quite some time. Months went by, and she seemed happy. But something had always bothered me. It was not like her to change her mind so quickly, to acquiesce so completely.>
<I didn’t press him,> Brivari repeated distantly. <I assumed it was some dispute or other about the wedding.> He looked at Urza. <When did you find out?>
<The night before it happened,> Urza said. He paused and swallowed. Remembering was almost physically painful. He was still horribly weak, and the effort expended to attack Jaddo had only made things worse. <She was sometimes not where she had said she would be, and I became suspicious. I started following her. I discovered her hiding a letter in the garden, down by the water, and I waited for the one who would retrieve it—an Argilian servant, as it turned out. I confiscated the letter, and the servant. He was most informative. With the right persuasion,> he added, with a grim smile.
Brivari and Jaddo exchanged glances. Urza was a gentle soul except where his Ward was concerned. No doubt that hapless servant had died a painful death.
<And the letter?> Brivari prodded.
<Full of nonsense about how much he loved her,> Urza said angrily. <I spent the night extracting what I could from the servant. He never mentioned the impending invasion—I doubt he knew. By the time I was finished, it was almost dawn and I went to find her. I couldn’t. She was gone.>
<Dawn,> Jaddo murmured. <That’s when it started. Right before dawn.>
<I finally found her sitting on the front balcony, waiting,> Urza went on. <She smiled when she saw me, and said it would all soon be over, and that I was too late. ‘Too late for what?’ I asked. ‘Too late to stop it,’ she said.>
Jaddo moved to stand beside Urza, opposite Brivari. <Do you mean to tell me that she sat, smiling and gloating, while her own people were invaded?>
<No!> Urza protested. <That’s not the story he told her! She had arranged to lower our defenses. Supposedly Khivar was coming with an entourage that would normally never have been allowed in the palace. He was to demand her hand in marriage, and she planned to appear and publicly accept, placing Zan in an awkward position before both his own and Khivar’s people. Khivar had convinced her that their marriage would benefit everyone, that only by uniting the races in their marriage would true peace be obtained.>
<Rubbish,> Jaddo snapped.
<Yes, rubbish,> Urza agreed. <But she did not see it. Not until I insisted we contact those on the perimeter of the city. They reported that Khivar had arrived with an army and was slaughtering indiscriminately. That was when she realized she’d been used.>
<So who went to Rath?> Brivari asked.
<Urza did,> said Jaddo bitterly. <Do you really think she would have shown her face to Rath after what she did?>
<You’re wrong,> Urza said firmly. <Rath was the easy one to approach. He would fight first, ask questions later. Zan was another matter. We both knew he would be furious. I offered to go to Zan, but she refused. She said it was her duty to face her brother herself.>
<I’m glad to hear she suffered a brief moment of maturity,> Jaddo said dryly. <Imagine that.>
<She never reached him,> Urza whispered. <Zan and Ava were dead when she found them.>
<But…..Khivar had not yet arrived,> Jaddo said. <How could they have been dead then?>
<Let me finish,> Urza insisted. <I went to Rath and told him what was happening. I—I told him everything.>
<So he knows Vilandra betrayed him?> Jaddo said flatly.
Urza swallowed again. <Yes. Then I headed for the King. On the way there I found Vilandra. She had found the King and Queen dead, and was trying to reach Rath when she herself was attacked.>
<By whom?>
<An Argilian. Someone she didn’t recognize. She begged me not to tell anyone what she’d done. I told her we would bring her back, and then we could go to Zan and explain.> Urza’s voice caught. <She died in my arms. I held her for a long time. I should have gone with her. I could have protected her, that was my job……> He broke off and looked away, clearly awash in grief. No one pressed him to continue. Jaddo waited, obviously grateful to have confirmation that Rath was not responsible as he had feared. Brivari looked empty, stricken.
After a minute or two, Urza continued. <Shortly after that I heard the Argilians entering the palace. I moved her body to what I thought was a secluded place and left to find you,> he said, looking at Brivari. <But when we returned, they’d found her anyway. Not that I let them live to tell of it,> he added grimly, remembering with satisfaction how he had savagely disposed of all in the vicinity of Vilandra’s body. <The rest, you know.>
<So. Khivar sent assassins ahead of his army,> Jaddo said.
<No,> Urza replied, shaking his head. <I don’t think that was Khivar’s doing. The one thing that servant I captured kept repeating was how Khivar was going to enjoy the look on Zan’s face when he married his sister. And Khivar was just like that. He would have wanted them alive to gloat. He would have wanted her alive, if for no other reason than to give him validity. Her death, at least, was someone else’s doing. I don’t know whose.>
< ‘She will live again,’> Brivari whispered. <I thought she had misheard…I had no idea…..>
<You thought who had misheard what?> Jaddo asked curiously.
Brivari looked up, wearing an expression like he had just come out of a trance. <This is bad. Very bad,> he said, ignoring Jaddo’s question. <Orlon said they would follow us; they might have a way to do that. And now Khivar has an even more compelling reason for pursuit. If he was counting on having Zan’s sister as his mate to cement his position…….>
Jaddo looked down at Urza. <Did the servant you captured say anything about following us?>
<Not specifically,> Urza said, remembering the triumphant expression he had been so pleased to wipe off the man’s face. <But he did indirectly. He kept going on about the superiority of their race, and claimed they had found a way to use the project for themselves. And there’s something else.>
<More bad news? Do tell,> Jaddo grumbled.
<The servant also claimed that they had Covari spies planted in the palace whom we would never find. That must mean Covari were taking the shape of other Covari. If they had taken anyone else’s shape, we would have noticed.>
Jaddo cast a skeptical look at Brivari. <Balor?>
But Brivari had lapsed back into silence, and Urza answered. <It’s possible that ‘Balor’ may not really have been Balor for some time now. Taking each other’s forms is something we never do. We would not have known to be suspicious.>
Silence ensued, a long, uncomfortable silence. The clock ticked. The humans could be heard talking quietly on the other side of the curtain. Urza waited for the firestorm he knew was coming, knew he deserved. When several minutes had passed, he decided to force the issue.
<Say something,> he demanded to Brivari. <Anything.>
Brivari slowly turned to look at him, as though he had forgotten Urza was there. <What would you have me say, Urza? That after mentally going through a list of every soldier, servant, and courtier I could think of, the traitor turned out to be right under my nose? That the person whom I deemed the most trustworthy turned out to be the least trustworthy? Zan’s own sister was the traitor that brought him down. What did she want? Did she want to be Queen at Khivar’s side? Is that what this was all about?>
<She was no traitor, Brivari,> Urza objected. He had known Brivari would not, indeed could not, understand. <She had no idea this would happen. She believed Khivar. She thought she was in love. She wanted to choose her own path. She was chafing at the restrictions of royalty. She felt hemmed in, trapped…..she was so unhappy….>
<Oh, she was ‘unhappy’, was she?> Brivari interrupted sharply. <She was unhappy. She was chafing at the restrictions of her station. Did she realize that the world Riall and I built was the reason she even had a station to chafe at? Did she have any idea how much more unhappy she would likely have been had Riall not taken the throne and ruled as he did? She was unhappy, was she? I would gladly have shown her ‘unhappy’! She had no idea what real ‘unhappiness’ means!>
Brivari abruptly rose to his feet and started pacing, eyes flashing dangerously. <But I can’t tell her that, can I? I can’t tell her a thing, because she single handedly brought down the civilization her father and I built. Not Khivar, nor any of the other factions. No generals did this, or disgruntled servants. No,> Brivari finished, coming to a halt beside Urza, <our world is gone because a silly girl had a crush!>
Brivari angrily started pacing again and Urza looked away, his eyes locking with Jaddo’s. Instead of the expected triumphant vindication, he was surprised to see there something that looked vaguely like…..sympathy?
<And where were you during all of this?> Brivari began again, leaning on the stretcher. <You knew her—you knew how stubborn she could be. You didn’t suspect her when she had that sudden reversal? You didn’t think to question her honesty? Why did months go by before you thought to do your duty? If you had caught this earlier, this would never have happened!>
Urza didn’t answer. Brivari was right, of course. He should have suspected Vilandra’s motives. But even he had not thought her capable of such folly. And she had played the part of the bride-to-be so well, had seemed so happy, and……..and he was so glad to see her happy that he had not questioned it until it was too late.
<Leave him be, Brivari,> Jaddo said suddenly.
Brivari whirled on him. <Why?>
<Thinking one’s Ward a liar is not a pleasant thought,> Jaddo replied quietly. <I have been in that position of late.> He paused, while Urza contemplated the extraordinary turn of events that had Jaddo actually defending him for the first time in memory. <I know I would have resisted—and did resist—learning the truth if it were Rath in question. Vilandra is responsible for her own actions.>
<He should have been watching,> Brivari said coldly.
<Yes, he should have been,> Jaddo responded evenly. <But how do we know that would have worked? She could have pulled the same thing, pretending to cooperate while still continuing to see Khivar. She’s obviously more devious than I ever gave her credit for,> he added, with grudging admiration. <I can be grateful, at least, that she and Rath never married. As I said earlier, she did not love him. Obviously I was right.>
<She was confused,> Urza protested. <She didn’t realize what Khivar was. She rejected Rath because she had not chosen him herself—Zan chose him for her. But I know how fond she was of Rath; had she been given the opportunity to choose for herself, I believe she would have chosen him. She sent me to Rath when disaster struck; she knew she could rely on him. I believe she could have loved him. And I know that he loved her.>
<Of course he did,> Jaddo said bitterly. <The sun rose and set on Vilandra as far as Rath was concerned. He loved her so much he made an absolute fool of himself. For the life of me, I cannot figure out why someone like Rath would have been the least bit interested in such a vain, foolish woman!>
<She was much more than that, Jaddo,> Urza protested, shaking his head weakly. <I knew that. Rath knew that. You never figured that out. You never managed to see past the exterior.>
<I would argue there wasn’t anything ‘past the exterior’ to see,> Jaddo groused.
<Enough!> Brivari barked. He looked severely at Urza. <You failed,> he announced. <You failed in your duties, and because of you, we find ourselves in this marvelous situation.>
<I believe I have already pointed that out,> Urza said. <And I have suffered for my lack of vigilance right along with the rest of you.>
<Not enough,> Brivari said flatly. He raised his hand. <The punishment for treason is death.>
Urza lay impassive at this announcement. He had expected this, and he was nearly dead anyway. He had only hoped to live long enough to help rectify his mistake, but it appeared he had done all he would be able to. He closed his eyes and waited for the end.
<Stop!> commanded Jaddo.
Urza opened his eyes to find Jaddo standing across from Brivari, hand raised, with a look of determination on his face.
<How dare you?> Brivari breathed.
<You have no right,> Jaddo stated firmly.
<He’s a traitor!> Brivari argued, his voice rising. <His Ward is a traitor! You know what that means!>
<Urza is no traitor,> Jaddo protested. <And neither was Vilandra. She was plotting to run away with her lover, not bring down her brother’s throne. She was stupid and thoughtless, as usual, and Urza was not as careful he should have been, but that does not make them traitors. Nor does that give you the right to carry out an execution only the King can order.>
<The King is not here,> Brivari said tightly, hand still raised.
<Then we will wait until he returns, and he may deal with them as he sees fit. Think,> Jaddo added hurriedly, as Brivari took another step closer to Urza. <There are only three of us left. Would you further endanger our Wards by reducing our number to two? Urza should live, if for no other reason than to redeem himself.>
Brivari took another step closer, and Jaddo matched it. Their hands were only a few inches apart, suspended over Urza.
<I mean it, Brivari,> Jaddo said softly. <I will stop you if I have to.>
July 7, 1947, 2255 hours
Eagle Rock Military Base
An awkward silence descended as the nurse pulled the curtain to block their view of the aliens on the other side. Private Spade studied her for a moment in the dim light of the desk lamp. She was a Lieutenant, and quite a pretty one at that, with large brown eyes and beautiful dark hair. Her fragile appearance belied the strength she had just demonstrated.
“So,” he said, eager to fill the silence. “What’s your name?”
The nurse returned his smile. He wasn’t surprised to find she had a nice smile. “Yvonne White. What’s yours?”
“Spade. Private Spade, ma’am.”
“I meant your first name. The one your mama uses.”
A nice smile, and she drove a hard bargain. “No one gets to use that but Mama,” Spade said with mock seriousness. “Call me Stephen.” He glanced toward the closed curtain. “How did you come to be mixed up in all this?”
“The same way you did, most likely,” Yvonne replied. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” She frowned. “Or perhaps I should say the right place at the right time.”
“What do you mean?”
Leaning in toward him, Yvonne whispered, “It’s healing itself. The creature on the stretcher, I mean. It’s been healing itself all day. I’ve been able to keep anyone from learning that because the doctors they called aren’t here yet, but once they get here…….” She bit her lip and glanced toward the curtain. “I just hope they can help it before the doctors get here. It will never survive what they’re going to do to it.” She crossed her arms in front of her and hugged herself as if she were cold. “Why are you helping them?”
“Ladies first. Why are you helping them?”
Yvonne smiled. “Lady or no, I outrank you, Private. You first.”
Spade stared at her for a moment before breaking into a smile. He was surrounded by people who wouldn’t give an inch. All kinds of people. Even non-human people.
“Why don’t you have some coffee while you tell me all about it,” Yvonne said, indicating the pot and settling back in her chair. The issue of who was going first had definitely been settled.
“Yes ma’am,” Spade agreed, still smiling. Dealing with grumpy aliens wasn’t so bad if one got to sit and have coffee with a pretty girl. There were worse things in life.
But first, he needed to find the little boy’s room. He’d needed to pee a good hour ago, and his back teeth were nearly floating.
******************************************************
<Brivari, we should leave now,> Jaddo argued when they were alone. <The sooner we get the sacs, the sooner we can return for Urza.>
<You should listen to the human,> Urza said weakly from his prone position on the stretcher. <He knows this place better than you do.>
<And what if they move them?> Jaddo asked, ignoring Urza. <Or what if the human is deliberately keeping us here to give them time to move them?>
Brivari shook his head. <He has been with me for almost an hour, and he was incarcerated before that; it’s unlikely he would know about them. I’m guessing the sacs won’t be moved until the scientists they’ve called have arrived. We can wait.> He turned to Urza. <I take it you are now willing to break your promise?>
<At this point, there is some doubt I will be around to fulfill the entire promise,> Urza said wearily. <Someone else might need to handle the situation in my stead. And that someone will need to know what they are dealing with. I am prepared to tell you everything.>
<Wonderful,> grumbled Jaddo. <Here we sit in enemy territory because Urza wants to tell you something. Far be it from me to interrupt.>
<This will interest you too, Jaddo,> Urza said.
<How?> Jaddo retorted. <What could you possibly have to say that would interest me?>
<You want to know how Rath knew Khivar was coming, don’t you?> Urza whispered. <How he knew to reach the gate before they arrived? Isn’t that what keeps you awake at night?>
Jaddo’s face froze. Brivari slowly turned to look at him. <Rath knew?> he asked, in the same, dangerous tone he had used in the stasis chamber on the ship when he and Jaddo had had words. <You never told me that.>
<Of course I didn’t,> Jaddo replied stonily. <I know Rath did not betray Zan. He did not have it in him. He even had the chance, and he turned it down. If I had told you, you would have jumped to conclusions—the wrong conclusions.>
<And where were you, while Rath was busy not betraying the King?>
Jaddo looked away. <I was upstairs, watching from a window, as he commanded. I had no idea what he was doing. We didn’t yet know what was happening. But Rath did. Somehow, he did.>
Brivari took a moment to digest this new information. He had known that Rath had fought, of course, with whatever soldiers he could muster on such short notice. But he’d had no idea that Rath had known ahead of time that the Argilians were coming.
<Urza, here, assures me that Rath was no traitor, but he refuses to say how he came by that information,> Jaddo went on irritably. <I take it you’re ready to share now?>
Brivari leaned in closer to Urza. He knew he shouldn’t be pressuring him now, when he was wounded and exhausted, but the desire to know, to finally learn what had destroyed that which he had worked so hard to build was too powerful. <Who did it, Urza? Who was the traitor?>
Urza looked away and was silent for a long moment, as though gathering strength to answer the question. He’s going to say it’s him, Brivari thought with shock. But how could it be? How could Urza possibly have betrayed Zan?
Finally, Urza turned back to Brivari, a look of resignation on his face. He spoke only one word, the one Brivari least expected to hear.
<Vilandra.>
<What?!> Jaddo erupted. <Honestly, Urza, this is no time for games! Do you really expect us to believe Vilandra did this?> He looked to Brivari for support, but Brivari was speechless, staring. Remembering.
“I should have watched her, stopped her, long before it came to this.”
“She was young and foolish, and she thought she was in love. She didn’t realize what she was dealing with.”
“Why should her brother get to choose his mate while she did not?”
Urza’s words, so incomprehensible when spoken in his quarters last night, suddenly came into horrible focus. Here he’d been mentally running down lists of soldiers, servants, dissidents like Orlon, anyone he could think of. And all along, the answer was right under his nose. Not to mention the answer to the identity of the one the rogue Covari had spoken of.
“She will live again, and the others will be treated to a glorious public execution.”
<Oh, my God……> Brivari whispered.
Jaddo was looking at him with alarm. <Brivari, you can’t possibly believe this. She wasn’t capable of it! Vilandra was just too stupid to pull off anything like …….>
He never finished. Jaddo flew into the air, arcing gracefully backwards until he hit the wall with a thump and slid down to the floor.
Brivari looked at Urza, who had struggled to one elbow, the other arm raised, palm extended, eyes blazing with energy he couldn’t afford to expend. <Don’t you ever talk about my Ward that way again, or I swear I’ll kill you!> Urza said angrily. <With my dying breath, if need be!>
<Enough!> snapped Brivari. Jaddo was struggling to stand up, but Urza’s mental grip still held him firm. <Urza, release him! Now!>
Slowly, Urza dropped his hand and sank back onto the stretcher. Jaddo pulled himself to his feet, managing to look surprised, embarrassed, and downright furious all at once.
<You’re very fond of referring to Vilandra as ‘stupid’, aren’t you?> Urza said flatly to Jaddo. <What I’m about to tell you should convince you otherwise. And when I’m finished, you’ll wish she really had been as stupid as you thought she was.>
******************************************************
“That’s awful,” Yvonne said sympathetically, tracing her finger around the rim of her coffee cup. “But you do realize that it wasn’t your fault, don’t you? You didn’t shoot him—your friend did.”
“It was my responsibility,” Spade said tightly, leaning back in his chair with his coffee cup on his lap. “You saw that thing—West filled it so full of holes it looks like alien Swiss cheese. I couldn’t look at it at the time, but when I saw it just now, laying there, I….” He paused, swallowing. “The safety of prisoners rests with those who capture them. He surrendered to me; I captured him. This one’s on my tab.”
Yvonne shook her head vigorously. “We can’t control what others do, Stephen. We can try, but the only actions we have any real control over are our own. You’re only responsible for your behavior, not anyone else’s. You can’t atone for something you didn’t do.”
“It’s not just that thing getting shot,” Spade said, leaning his head against the wall and closing his eyes. God, he was tired. He could really use a nap right about now. “It’s the whole ‘lie about it’ business. They want me to say it attacked, but it didn’t. And they want me to say it didn’t attack earlier, but it did. Talk about screwed up.” He sighed. “The thing is, if you’d asked me yesterday if my CO’s would ever ask me to lie like this, I’d have said no, no way. I just can’t believe this.”
“They’re scared,” Yvonne murmured, with a glance at the closed curtain. “Everyone is scared. Even them. Everyone is reacting out of fear. That’s never a good thing.”
“If you ask me, it’s not all about fear, at least not on this side of the canyon,” Spade said darkly. “I think it’s more about power.” He followed her gaze toward the other side of the room. “Why do you suppose it’s so quiet?” he asked, eyeing the curtain. “I thought they had lots to talk about.”
“Perhaps they have another way of communicating,” Yvonne said. “A more private way.”
Both of them jumped as a sudden thump shook the room. Looking at the curtain, Spade was astonished to see the shadow of what looked like a body flat against the wall. It slid to the floor, then struggled to get up, as if pushing against some invisible force.
Spade whistled softly through his teeth. “It appears they do have another means of communication,” he said to Yvonne, “but it doesn’t look very private. And I must admit, it’s nice to know they do that to each other too.”
******************************************************
<She was in love with him, wasn’t she?> Brivari said in a toneless voice.
Urza gave a half nod, and turned his head away from Brivari. That meant he had to look in Jaddo’s direction, but for once, that was preferable. Jaddo would be angry and disdainful, as usual, but that would be easier to take than Brivari’s inevitable crushing disappointment. Besides, he cared what Brivari thought of him; he was beyond caring what Jaddo thought. Jaddo could never abide either him or his Ward, and was no doubt about to feel vindicated.
<She thought she was, at least,> Urza said.
<She was in love with whom?> Jaddo demanded impatiently.
<Khivar,> Urza sighed, and shuddered a little. Finally saying that out loud made him cold. <Vilandra was in love with Khivar.>
Jaddo opened his mouth as if to begin another rant, then closed it as the implications of that statement began to sink in. For once in his life, he apparently could think of nothing to say.
<I had heard reports that she was having an affair, but not who with. How? When?> Brivari asked, still in that toneless voice. He wasn’t looking at Urza, and his expression was blank.
<I caught them meeting each other in secret in the palace. I sent him packing and went immediately to the King.>
<Of course you did,> Jaddo said with uncharacteristic approval.
Urza shook his head. <That was a mistake. Zan and Vilandra had a huge fight. I did not like the look in her eyes. She was wild, panicky. I tried to tell him that—I knew his sister better than he did. But Zan tried to remedy the situation by forcing the issue. The next morning he announced her betrothal to Rath, and Vilandra locked herself in her room.>
<What do you know of this?> Jaddo asked Brivari.
Brivari was still looking away, with that disturbing blank expression. <I knew about the fight, of course; you can’t hide something like that in a palace,> he answered. <But Zan and Vilandra fighting was not uncommon, nor was Vilandra flouncing off to pout. I asked Zan what this latest upheaval was about, and he brushed me off, saying he’d already dealt with it. He wouldn’t tell me,> Brivari said in a low voice, <and I didn’t press him. If I had known……> His voice trailed off.
<Vilandra stayed in her room for days,> Urza went on, <insisting she would not come out until she was afforded the same privilege as her brother—the right to choose her own mate. Then she abruptly changed. She announced to Zan that she had decided he was right and proceeded to immerse herself in wedding plans. She acted completely transformed.>
<And she was lying,> Jaddo said flatly.
<Yes,> Urza sighed, nodding weakly. <She continued to meet Khivar at the palace and communicate with him via courier. I didn’t realize this for quite some time. Months went by, and she seemed happy. But something had always bothered me. It was not like her to change her mind so quickly, to acquiesce so completely.>
<I didn’t press him,> Brivari repeated distantly. <I assumed it was some dispute or other about the wedding.> He looked at Urza. <When did you find out?>
<The night before it happened,> Urza said. He paused and swallowed. Remembering was almost physically painful. He was still horribly weak, and the effort expended to attack Jaddo had only made things worse. <She was sometimes not where she had said she would be, and I became suspicious. I started following her. I discovered her hiding a letter in the garden, down by the water, and I waited for the one who would retrieve it—an Argilian servant, as it turned out. I confiscated the letter, and the servant. He was most informative. With the right persuasion,> he added, with a grim smile.
Brivari and Jaddo exchanged glances. Urza was a gentle soul except where his Ward was concerned. No doubt that hapless servant had died a painful death.
<And the letter?> Brivari prodded.
<Full of nonsense about how much he loved her,> Urza said angrily. <I spent the night extracting what I could from the servant. He never mentioned the impending invasion—I doubt he knew. By the time I was finished, it was almost dawn and I went to find her. I couldn’t. She was gone.>
<Dawn,> Jaddo murmured. <That’s when it started. Right before dawn.>
<I finally found her sitting on the front balcony, waiting,> Urza went on. <She smiled when she saw me, and said it would all soon be over, and that I was too late. ‘Too late for what?’ I asked. ‘Too late to stop it,’ she said.>
Jaddo moved to stand beside Urza, opposite Brivari. <Do you mean to tell me that she sat, smiling and gloating, while her own people were invaded?>
<No!> Urza protested. <That’s not the story he told her! She had arranged to lower our defenses. Supposedly Khivar was coming with an entourage that would normally never have been allowed in the palace. He was to demand her hand in marriage, and she planned to appear and publicly accept, placing Zan in an awkward position before both his own and Khivar’s people. Khivar had convinced her that their marriage would benefit everyone, that only by uniting the races in their marriage would true peace be obtained.>
<Rubbish,> Jaddo snapped.
<Yes, rubbish,> Urza agreed. <But she did not see it. Not until I insisted we contact those on the perimeter of the city. They reported that Khivar had arrived with an army and was slaughtering indiscriminately. That was when she realized she’d been used.>
<So who went to Rath?> Brivari asked.
<Urza did,> said Jaddo bitterly. <Do you really think she would have shown her face to Rath after what she did?>
<You’re wrong,> Urza said firmly. <Rath was the easy one to approach. He would fight first, ask questions later. Zan was another matter. We both knew he would be furious. I offered to go to Zan, but she refused. She said it was her duty to face her brother herself.>
<I’m glad to hear she suffered a brief moment of maturity,> Jaddo said dryly. <Imagine that.>
<She never reached him,> Urza whispered. <Zan and Ava were dead when she found them.>
<But…..Khivar had not yet arrived,> Jaddo said. <How could they have been dead then?>
<Let me finish,> Urza insisted. <I went to Rath and told him what was happening. I—I told him everything.>
<So he knows Vilandra betrayed him?> Jaddo said flatly.
Urza swallowed again. <Yes. Then I headed for the King. On the way there I found Vilandra. She had found the King and Queen dead, and was trying to reach Rath when she herself was attacked.>
<By whom?>
<An Argilian. Someone she didn’t recognize. She begged me not to tell anyone what she’d done. I told her we would bring her back, and then we could go to Zan and explain.> Urza’s voice caught. <She died in my arms. I held her for a long time. I should have gone with her. I could have protected her, that was my job……> He broke off and looked away, clearly awash in grief. No one pressed him to continue. Jaddo waited, obviously grateful to have confirmation that Rath was not responsible as he had feared. Brivari looked empty, stricken.
After a minute or two, Urza continued. <Shortly after that I heard the Argilians entering the palace. I moved her body to what I thought was a secluded place and left to find you,> he said, looking at Brivari. <But when we returned, they’d found her anyway. Not that I let them live to tell of it,> he added grimly, remembering with satisfaction how he had savagely disposed of all in the vicinity of Vilandra’s body. <The rest, you know.>
<So. Khivar sent assassins ahead of his army,> Jaddo said.
<No,> Urza replied, shaking his head. <I don’t think that was Khivar’s doing. The one thing that servant I captured kept repeating was how Khivar was going to enjoy the look on Zan’s face when he married his sister. And Khivar was just like that. He would have wanted them alive to gloat. He would have wanted her alive, if for no other reason than to give him validity. Her death, at least, was someone else’s doing. I don’t know whose.>
< ‘She will live again,’> Brivari whispered. <I thought she had misheard…I had no idea…..>
<You thought who had misheard what?> Jaddo asked curiously.
Brivari looked up, wearing an expression like he had just come out of a trance. <This is bad. Very bad,> he said, ignoring Jaddo’s question. <Orlon said they would follow us; they might have a way to do that. And now Khivar has an even more compelling reason for pursuit. If he was counting on having Zan’s sister as his mate to cement his position…….>
Jaddo looked down at Urza. <Did the servant you captured say anything about following us?>
<Not specifically,> Urza said, remembering the triumphant expression he had been so pleased to wipe off the man’s face. <But he did indirectly. He kept going on about the superiority of their race, and claimed they had found a way to use the project for themselves. And there’s something else.>
<More bad news? Do tell,> Jaddo grumbled.
<The servant also claimed that they had Covari spies planted in the palace whom we would never find. That must mean Covari were taking the shape of other Covari. If they had taken anyone else’s shape, we would have noticed.>
Jaddo cast a skeptical look at Brivari. <Balor?>
But Brivari had lapsed back into silence, and Urza answered. <It’s possible that ‘Balor’ may not really have been Balor for some time now. Taking each other’s forms is something we never do. We would not have known to be suspicious.>
Silence ensued, a long, uncomfortable silence. The clock ticked. The humans could be heard talking quietly on the other side of the curtain. Urza waited for the firestorm he knew was coming, knew he deserved. When several minutes had passed, he decided to force the issue.
<Say something,> he demanded to Brivari. <Anything.>
Brivari slowly turned to look at him, as though he had forgotten Urza was there. <What would you have me say, Urza? That after mentally going through a list of every soldier, servant, and courtier I could think of, the traitor turned out to be right under my nose? That the person whom I deemed the most trustworthy turned out to be the least trustworthy? Zan’s own sister was the traitor that brought him down. What did she want? Did she want to be Queen at Khivar’s side? Is that what this was all about?>
<She was no traitor, Brivari,> Urza objected. He had known Brivari would not, indeed could not, understand. <She had no idea this would happen. She believed Khivar. She thought she was in love. She wanted to choose her own path. She was chafing at the restrictions of royalty. She felt hemmed in, trapped…..she was so unhappy….>
<Oh, she was ‘unhappy’, was she?> Brivari interrupted sharply. <She was unhappy. She was chafing at the restrictions of her station. Did she realize that the world Riall and I built was the reason she even had a station to chafe at? Did she have any idea how much more unhappy she would likely have been had Riall not taken the throne and ruled as he did? She was unhappy, was she? I would gladly have shown her ‘unhappy’! She had no idea what real ‘unhappiness’ means!>
Brivari abruptly rose to his feet and started pacing, eyes flashing dangerously. <But I can’t tell her that, can I? I can’t tell her a thing, because she single handedly brought down the civilization her father and I built. Not Khivar, nor any of the other factions. No generals did this, or disgruntled servants. No,> Brivari finished, coming to a halt beside Urza, <our world is gone because a silly girl had a crush!>
Brivari angrily started pacing again and Urza looked away, his eyes locking with Jaddo’s. Instead of the expected triumphant vindication, he was surprised to see there something that looked vaguely like…..sympathy?
<And where were you during all of this?> Brivari began again, leaning on the stretcher. <You knew her—you knew how stubborn she could be. You didn’t suspect her when she had that sudden reversal? You didn’t think to question her honesty? Why did months go by before you thought to do your duty? If you had caught this earlier, this would never have happened!>
Urza didn’t answer. Brivari was right, of course. He should have suspected Vilandra’s motives. But even he had not thought her capable of such folly. And she had played the part of the bride-to-be so well, had seemed so happy, and……..and he was so glad to see her happy that he had not questioned it until it was too late.
<Leave him be, Brivari,> Jaddo said suddenly.
Brivari whirled on him. <Why?>
<Thinking one’s Ward a liar is not a pleasant thought,> Jaddo replied quietly. <I have been in that position of late.> He paused, while Urza contemplated the extraordinary turn of events that had Jaddo actually defending him for the first time in memory. <I know I would have resisted—and did resist—learning the truth if it were Rath in question. Vilandra is responsible for her own actions.>
<He should have been watching,> Brivari said coldly.
<Yes, he should have been,> Jaddo responded evenly. <But how do we know that would have worked? She could have pulled the same thing, pretending to cooperate while still continuing to see Khivar. She’s obviously more devious than I ever gave her credit for,> he added, with grudging admiration. <I can be grateful, at least, that she and Rath never married. As I said earlier, she did not love him. Obviously I was right.>
<She was confused,> Urza protested. <She didn’t realize what Khivar was. She rejected Rath because she had not chosen him herself—Zan chose him for her. But I know how fond she was of Rath; had she been given the opportunity to choose for herself, I believe she would have chosen him. She sent me to Rath when disaster struck; she knew she could rely on him. I believe she could have loved him. And I know that he loved her.>
<Of course he did,> Jaddo said bitterly. <The sun rose and set on Vilandra as far as Rath was concerned. He loved her so much he made an absolute fool of himself. For the life of me, I cannot figure out why someone like Rath would have been the least bit interested in such a vain, foolish woman!>
<She was much more than that, Jaddo,> Urza protested, shaking his head weakly. <I knew that. Rath knew that. You never figured that out. You never managed to see past the exterior.>
<I would argue there wasn’t anything ‘past the exterior’ to see,> Jaddo groused.
<Enough!> Brivari barked. He looked severely at Urza. <You failed,> he announced. <You failed in your duties, and because of you, we find ourselves in this marvelous situation.>
<I believe I have already pointed that out,> Urza said. <And I have suffered for my lack of vigilance right along with the rest of you.>
<Not enough,> Brivari said flatly. He raised his hand. <The punishment for treason is death.>
Urza lay impassive at this announcement. He had expected this, and he was nearly dead anyway. He had only hoped to live long enough to help rectify his mistake, but it appeared he had done all he would be able to. He closed his eyes and waited for the end.
<Stop!> commanded Jaddo.
Urza opened his eyes to find Jaddo standing across from Brivari, hand raised, with a look of determination on his face.
<How dare you?> Brivari breathed.
<You have no right,> Jaddo stated firmly.
<He’s a traitor!> Brivari argued, his voice rising. <His Ward is a traitor! You know what that means!>
<Urza is no traitor,> Jaddo protested. <And neither was Vilandra. She was plotting to run away with her lover, not bring down her brother’s throne. She was stupid and thoughtless, as usual, and Urza was not as careful he should have been, but that does not make them traitors. Nor does that give you the right to carry out an execution only the King can order.>
<The King is not here,> Brivari said tightly, hand still raised.
<Then we will wait until he returns, and he may deal with them as he sees fit. Think,> Jaddo added hurriedly, as Brivari took another step closer to Urza. <There are only three of us left. Would you further endanger our Wards by reducing our number to two? Urza should live, if for no other reason than to redeem himself.>
Brivari took another step closer, and Jaddo matched it. Their hands were only a few inches apart, suspended over Urza.
<I mean it, Brivari,> Jaddo said softly. <I will stop you if I have to.>
Part 47
PART FORTY-SEVEN
July 7, 1947, 2330 hours
Eagle Rock Military Base
Brivari stood, hand raised, furious at what he had heard and the defiance standing before him. “Zan is not here,” he repeated tersely. “Until he returns, we act on his behalf. I act on his behalf. Just like I did when I decided to heal the human girl.”
“You made that decision based on what you claimed Zan would have done,” Jaddo countered. “And what would Zan do in this situation? Do you really expect me to believe he would order the execution of his own sister?”
“Not his sister, perhaps,” Brivari grudged, “but her Warder? He might.”
“Ava would never have allowed it,” Jaddo said firmly. “Vilandra wouldn’t have either. She would have told Zan that if he intended to execute Urza, he would have to execute her too. I never liked her, but I know how she felt about Urza.”
Brivari hesitated, fuming. Much as he hated to admit it, Jaddo was right. Even if Zan had tried to get rid of Urza, neither of the women in his life would have stood for it. He looked down at Urza, who looked like he had lapsed into a state of semi-consciousness, eyes half-closed. Do you have any idea what she did? It took us years to build our world we did, and she brought it down in just a few hours. Damn her!
“Hello?” a voice called, startling all of them.
It was the human soldier on the other side of the curtain. “It’s time to leave.”
No one answered. No one moved. After a few seconds, the curtain was pulled back and the soldier looked at them, scowling, the female standing behind him. “You did still want to go get those….what’d you call them? Sacs? We need to go now if what I have in mind is going to work.”
Jaddo’s eyes were locked on Brivari’s. <Our Wards, Brivari. Remember our Wards? As you once said to me, I would appreciate it if you kept your priorities straight.>
Brivari felt his hand falter. Was he destined to be forever plagued by people who threw his own words back at him? His colleagues did it. The human girl did it. Her father did it. Either he was worth quoting, or they were all colluding to drive him crazy.
Slowly, Brivari lowered his hand. Jaddo held his a moment longer before lowering his own.
“Something wrong?” the solder asked suspiciously.
“No. Nothing,” Brivari said tightly. “We’re ready.”
“You need to wear what he’s wearing,” the soldier said to Jaddo, pointing to Brivari’s uniform. “You can handle that yourself, right?” Jaddo gave him a withering look, and the soldier held up his hands. “Okay. Okay. Just asking. Sheesh,” he muttered in disgust. “Outside. Now.”
Brivari turned on his heel and marched out the door after the retreating soldier. Jaddo began to follow, then hesitated, turning back to Urza. <We will be back to retrieve you.>
Urza gave a low chuckle. <Who would have thought the day would ever come when you would be defending me. The world really has turned upside down, hasn’t it?> Then he grew serious. <Rescue them, Jaddo. We started with hundreds, and we have so few left.>
Jaddo nodded. <I will.> Then he saw the female standing off to the side, watching. He hesitated a moment, then approached her. Her eyes widened, but she stood her ground.
“If he dies, don’t let them dispose of the body,” Jaddo said to her stiffly. “We can still help him, even if he appears dead to your inferior science.”
The female raised an eyebrow at this announcement, but she nodded. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do the best I can.”
Jaddo gave a curt nod, and left the room. Brivari and the soldier were waiting in the hallway, the soldier pacing impatiently.
“About time you decided to join us,” the soldier said impatiently. “Stay behind me, and be quiet. Move when I tell you, and stop when I tell you. A lot of people are at the crash site, so hopefully there will be fewer patrols to avoid.” He started walking away.
<We’re not finished,> Brivari said flatly, as they followed the soldier.
<We certainly aren’t,> Jaddo replied. <Why did you demand I ‘show myself’ earlier? All of us were in there besides me. Who else could I have been?>
Brivari stopped, and spun around to face him. <I found the transponder. I know you put it there.>
Brivari was actually disappointed as he watched Jaddo’s human face turn white. Up until now he had been hoping against hope that Jaddo was not responsible, that there was a logical explanation. His silence made it clear that no such explanation would be forthcoming.
<Amazing,> Brivari said sarcastically. <That’s the second time tonight I’ve seen you speechless. That must be some kind of record.>
<It’s not what you think…….> Jaddo began.
<What would I be thinking?> Brivari asked with mock innocence. <That perhaps you’re a traitor?>
<We need allies!> Jaddo protested. <All the allies we can find!>
<That’s what I said about the humans, but you didn’t like that argument.>
<We need allies back home, allies among our own people!>
Brivari walked forward until he was nearly nose to nose with Jaddo. <If you were signaling ‘allies’, then why did you turn it off?>
Jaddo hesitated. <I….I…..>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Okay…..now!” Spade ordered. He darted silently across the hallway and turned around.
Where were they? Looking back the way they had come, Spade saw the two aliens standing nose to nose with each other. Neither was speaking out loud, but it was pretty clear they were locked in some kind of silent confrontation. Damn it!
Spade looked nervously up and down the hallway. It wasn’t safe to stay here long—it wasn’t safe to stay anywhere long. The base was low on personnel tonight because of the goings on at the crash site, which meant fewer patrols that would be moving from place to place instead of the usual number of fixed patrols. That made sneaking around a little easier, but it also made it imperative to keep moving.
Looking back at the sparring aliens, Spade felt his blood boil. One never took personal stuff into battle. They should know that. He whisked across the open hallway again, marched up to the aliens, put one hand on each of their shoulders, and shoved them apart.
Two pairs of eyes snapped at him. “How dare you?” breathed the alien who had arrived late.
“Look, I don’t know what’s got your panties in a twist, and I don’t care,” Spade said tersely. “Settle it—now. If you really want to rescue whatever it is you’re rescuing, you can’t afford to haul personal baggage into that hangar. You’ll get us all killed, or worse. Get your people out, and then you can argue about whatever bug is up your collective butts until the cows come home.”
The late alien blinked. “You humans certainly do have colorful metaphors.”
“You think that’s colorful? Keep up this bullshit, and I’ll show you ‘colorful’,” Spade said furiously. “Now, are you coming? Because I’m going, and if you pull something like this on me again, I’m not coming back for you.”
Spade marched away, not bothering to look back to see if they were following.
******************************************************
Private Spade peeked around the corner at the two MP’s guarding the entrance to Hangar 20. Guarding this entrance, at any rate. No doubt all the entrances would be guarded, but this was the most isolated interior entrance, therefore the best one to attempt to breach.
Crouched beside him was Alien #1, the one who had hauled him out of his “cell”. Spade had heard some names fly by, but he hadn’t bothered to pay attention, so he still mentally referred to them as #1 and #2. Alien #2, the one who had arrived later, had gone off to do some reconnaissance, and Spade, for one, didn’t miss him. #2 was rude and dismissive. #1 wasn’t going to win any personality contests, but he clearly understood the value of an inside source.
“What did you refuse to lie about?” Alien #1 said suddenly, making Spade jump.
“What?”
“You said you were incarcerated because you refused to lie for ‘them’. I assume you mean your commanding officers. What did they want you to lie about?”
“Why do you care?”
“I’m familiar with someone being incarcerated for lying,” Alien #1 said, in that flat, expressionless voice of his. “I am less familiar with someone being incarcerated for not lying. Humans are strange.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” Spade muttered, glancing pointedly at Alien #1 for a moment before looking back toward the hangar doors. “They wanted me to say that your scientist friend back there didn’t kill two other soldiers this morning, but he did. He admitted it. And then they wanted me to say your friend attacked me and that was the reason they shot him. But he didn’t attack me—he was surrendering to me.” He looked back at #1. “They’re trying to cover all of this up. Your ship. Your people. Everything. They’re going to try and keep it secret, and I don’t think they should.”
Alien #1 considered this in silence for a moment. “What are they going to do to you when they discover you’ve escaped?”
“Nothing good,” Spade replied shortly. “Captain Cavitt—that’s my CO—is gunning for me. He’ll use this somehow to bring me down.”
“You asked me to take you with me,” Alien #1 said, moving closer to Spade. “Why would you want that when it could be used against you?”
“Because it doesn’t matter what happens—Cavitt will find a way to destroy me. He basically has to because I challenged his honesty. If it hadn’t been this, it would have something else. Just would have taken longer. Going with you gave me one last chance to fix the mistakes I’ve made.”
Their eyes locked for a moment, and Spade was surprised to see a hint of—admiration? But it was only a hint, and it disappeared quickly.
Alien #2 appeared abruptly, as if out of nowhere. How do they do that? Spade wondered to himself. #2 looked awful, haggard and exhausted, and Spade suddenly had doubts that they’d be able to pull this off with #2 in this condition. He opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. #2 definitely didn’t like it when he thought his competence was being questioned.
“There are no guards inside,” reported #2, “but there are guards posted outside at every exit.”
“Good,” Spade replied. “I didn’t think there’d be anyone inside. Not enough people here with so many at the crash site.” He checked his watch. “Time to go. Once you two are inside, I’ll follow and watch for the real guards. Do you remember what I told you to say?”
#2 shot him yet another withering look, but Spade didn’t wither. He was beginning to suspect that withering looks were typical for #2. “Go. Now,” Spade instructed.
Both aliens left without hesitation. Spade hung back, crossing his fingers and praying this would work. It was one thing to look like an MP, and quite another to sound like one.
A few moments later, he decided he needn’t have worried. The two aliens smoothly exchanged places with the two guards, sounding so much like the real thing that even Spade would have been convinced if he hadn’t known better. They nailed their “we’re relieving you a bit early” speeches perfectly, and fortunately the guards didn’t say anything unexpected. The guards started down the long hallway where Spade was hiding, and he pulled back into the shadow of a doorway to stay out of sight.
“Wait,” one of the guards said. Spade froze. So close. He peeked around the corner.
“Where is the third?” one of the guards was asking the aliens, who had calmly taken up stations outside the entrance to the hangar.
“Coming soon,” #2 replied without missing a beat. “We’re just a bit early.”
The guards nodded, satisfied, and continued down the hallway. As soon as they were out of sight, Spade scooted down to join the aliens, who already had the doors open. “Hold up.”
Spade took a deep breath and looked #2 directly in the eye. He wasn’t going to like this question. “Are you absolutely certain there weren’t any guards inside?”
“Of course I’m absolutely certain, human,” #2 said icily. “It would be hard to miss something like that.”
Spade pressed on, ignoring #2’s murderous look. His feeling of unease was growing. “But they were looking for another man. What if there’s someone else in there?”
“They might have been referring to someone who’s being added to guard detail,” interjected #1, with a glance at #2 that said ”Simmer down”.
“Let me go in first and look around,” Spade said. All his alarms were jangling now. #2 was not in good shape—he could easily have missed something.
“No time,” #2 said sharply, and pushed through the doors of the hangar, with Spade reluctantly following.
Inside it was brightly lit and eerily silent. Hard as he tried to walk quietly, Spade’s footsteps still sounded loud to his ears. The aliens, on the other hand, made virtually no sound as they padded quickly around the hangar, #2 leading the way.
It certainly looks deserted, Spade mused as he took his station beside the door. Rows of trucks jammed the hangar, more trucks than he had ever seen in one place, each one filled, no doubt, with some kind of booty from the crash site that ordinary soldiers weren’t trusted to unload. Craning his neck this way and that, he looked for any signs of other guards. Nothing. That should have made him feel better, but it didn’t. That tiny voice in the back of his mind was still replaying the MP’s words: “Where is the third?”
Spade stuffed his hands in his pockets and paced in front of the hangar doors. He couldn’t see the aliens anymore, and in a way that was a relief. Very soon they would no longer be his problem, and his conscience would be clear—or clearer, anyway. He glanced nervously out through the windows in the doors, but no one was coming. He checked his watch; only three minutes had passed, yet it seemed to be taking forever. Would they tell him when they were finished, or would they just leave him there?
I need a cigarette, Spade thought, marching up to a nearby truck and looking into the cab. If he was really lucky, someone might have left a pack behind. He was always losing them during his stints on guard duty, sitting in the truck for hours on end and………. Oh, God.
Spade stood petrified, as it finally hit him: The third guard was in the truck. That’s how #2 had missed him. With this much stuff packed in here, he would have missed it himself unless he’d been looking from just the right angle.
Taking one frantic look back at the hangar doors, Spade started searching row by row. They’d been so quiet he had no idea where they were, and he didn’t dare call out to them. He hadn’t heard anything at all, so no one had found them—yet. He checked his watch as he jogged from row to row. Five minutes and counting. He rounded the next bend and screeched to a halt.
The aliens were standing at the back of a truck. The doors had been flung open, and a weird glow was coming from inside. And leaning out the window of the cab was a guard, his gun rising.
“Look out!” Spade yelled, charging down the narrow aisle.
Three faces turned, startled. The guard recovered first, slipping out of the cab and aiming. #1 saw him and raised his hand, flinging the guard back against a nearby truck—but not fast enough. The gun went off, and #2 crumpled to the ground.
Spade skidded to a halt, panting heavily and thinking frantically. They had to get out of here. The guard had been knocked unconscious, but someone had undoubtedly heard that gun go off. They didn’t have long.
“Go!” he ordered #1, who was hovering over #2, and looking back and forth from his fallen companion to the truck. “They won’t miss that gunshot!”
As if on cue, shouts were heard in the distance, followed by the sound of opening doors and running feet. Spade glanced toward the back of the truck. That weird glow was coming from huge, glowing….somethings. Somethings that looked much too large to be maneuvered out of an Army base on full alert by one person.
“Can you get those out of here by yourself?” Spade asked. Alien #1 continued to hesitate, obviously torn between saving what—or who—they had been rescuing, or saving the body on the floor.
Spade squatted down and looked #1 in the eye. “Can you save him?” he asked tensely, indicating #2. The running feet were getting closer. This time Alien #1 nodded without hesitation.
“Then get him out of here,” Spade ordered. #1 looked back at the truck, and Spade grabbed his shoulders and wrenched him back around. Not the smartest thing to do with someone capable of killing with a touch, perhaps, but he was desperate. “Listen to me! You can’t save those!” he hissed urgently, indicating the truck. “The entire base is on full alert, and you’re all alone. You’ll have to come back later, and when you do, they’ll be ready for you. They’ll have found the other bodies, and they’ll know there are more of you out there. You’re going to need all the help you can get when you try again. You’re going to need him. Understand?”
Slowly, #1 nodded. He rose to his feet and extended his hand, palm out.
What the hell? was all Spade had time to think before he flew backward and smashed into the side of a truck.
******************************************************
As the sirens sounded, Yvonne White looked up from the book she had been reading. Pulling a chair up to the tiny basement window by the ceiling, she craned her neck to see what was happening. Sirens roared, lights flashed, and soldiers were running. Running toward the other end of the base, where the hangars were.
“Oh, no,” she whispered.
July 7, 1947, 2330 hours
Eagle Rock Military Base
Brivari stood, hand raised, furious at what he had heard and the defiance standing before him. “Zan is not here,” he repeated tersely. “Until he returns, we act on his behalf. I act on his behalf. Just like I did when I decided to heal the human girl.”
“You made that decision based on what you claimed Zan would have done,” Jaddo countered. “And what would Zan do in this situation? Do you really expect me to believe he would order the execution of his own sister?”
“Not his sister, perhaps,” Brivari grudged, “but her Warder? He might.”
“Ava would never have allowed it,” Jaddo said firmly. “Vilandra wouldn’t have either. She would have told Zan that if he intended to execute Urza, he would have to execute her too. I never liked her, but I know how she felt about Urza.”
Brivari hesitated, fuming. Much as he hated to admit it, Jaddo was right. Even if Zan had tried to get rid of Urza, neither of the women in his life would have stood for it. He looked down at Urza, who looked like he had lapsed into a state of semi-consciousness, eyes half-closed. Do you have any idea what she did? It took us years to build our world we did, and she brought it down in just a few hours. Damn her!
“Hello?” a voice called, startling all of them.
It was the human soldier on the other side of the curtain. “It’s time to leave.”
No one answered. No one moved. After a few seconds, the curtain was pulled back and the soldier looked at them, scowling, the female standing behind him. “You did still want to go get those….what’d you call them? Sacs? We need to go now if what I have in mind is going to work.”
Jaddo’s eyes were locked on Brivari’s. <Our Wards, Brivari. Remember our Wards? As you once said to me, I would appreciate it if you kept your priorities straight.>
Brivari felt his hand falter. Was he destined to be forever plagued by people who threw his own words back at him? His colleagues did it. The human girl did it. Her father did it. Either he was worth quoting, or they were all colluding to drive him crazy.
Slowly, Brivari lowered his hand. Jaddo held his a moment longer before lowering his own.
“Something wrong?” the solder asked suspiciously.
“No. Nothing,” Brivari said tightly. “We’re ready.”
“You need to wear what he’s wearing,” the soldier said to Jaddo, pointing to Brivari’s uniform. “You can handle that yourself, right?” Jaddo gave him a withering look, and the soldier held up his hands. “Okay. Okay. Just asking. Sheesh,” he muttered in disgust. “Outside. Now.”
Brivari turned on his heel and marched out the door after the retreating soldier. Jaddo began to follow, then hesitated, turning back to Urza. <We will be back to retrieve you.>
Urza gave a low chuckle. <Who would have thought the day would ever come when you would be defending me. The world really has turned upside down, hasn’t it?> Then he grew serious. <Rescue them, Jaddo. We started with hundreds, and we have so few left.>
Jaddo nodded. <I will.> Then he saw the female standing off to the side, watching. He hesitated a moment, then approached her. Her eyes widened, but she stood her ground.
“If he dies, don’t let them dispose of the body,” Jaddo said to her stiffly. “We can still help him, even if he appears dead to your inferior science.”
The female raised an eyebrow at this announcement, but she nodded. “I can’t promise anything, but I’ll do the best I can.”
Jaddo gave a curt nod, and left the room. Brivari and the soldier were waiting in the hallway, the soldier pacing impatiently.
“About time you decided to join us,” the soldier said impatiently. “Stay behind me, and be quiet. Move when I tell you, and stop when I tell you. A lot of people are at the crash site, so hopefully there will be fewer patrols to avoid.” He started walking away.
<We’re not finished,> Brivari said flatly, as they followed the soldier.
<We certainly aren’t,> Jaddo replied. <Why did you demand I ‘show myself’ earlier? All of us were in there besides me. Who else could I have been?>
Brivari stopped, and spun around to face him. <I found the transponder. I know you put it there.>
Brivari was actually disappointed as he watched Jaddo’s human face turn white. Up until now he had been hoping against hope that Jaddo was not responsible, that there was a logical explanation. His silence made it clear that no such explanation would be forthcoming.
<Amazing,> Brivari said sarcastically. <That’s the second time tonight I’ve seen you speechless. That must be some kind of record.>
<It’s not what you think…….> Jaddo began.
<What would I be thinking?> Brivari asked with mock innocence. <That perhaps you’re a traitor?>
<We need allies!> Jaddo protested. <All the allies we can find!>
<That’s what I said about the humans, but you didn’t like that argument.>
<We need allies back home, allies among our own people!>
Brivari walked forward until he was nearly nose to nose with Jaddo. <If you were signaling ‘allies’, then why did you turn it off?>
Jaddo hesitated. <I….I…..>
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Okay…..now!” Spade ordered. He darted silently across the hallway and turned around.
Where were they? Looking back the way they had come, Spade saw the two aliens standing nose to nose with each other. Neither was speaking out loud, but it was pretty clear they were locked in some kind of silent confrontation. Damn it!
Spade looked nervously up and down the hallway. It wasn’t safe to stay here long—it wasn’t safe to stay anywhere long. The base was low on personnel tonight because of the goings on at the crash site, which meant fewer patrols that would be moving from place to place instead of the usual number of fixed patrols. That made sneaking around a little easier, but it also made it imperative to keep moving.
Looking back at the sparring aliens, Spade felt his blood boil. One never took personal stuff into battle. They should know that. He whisked across the open hallway again, marched up to the aliens, put one hand on each of their shoulders, and shoved them apart.
Two pairs of eyes snapped at him. “How dare you?” breathed the alien who had arrived late.
“Look, I don’t know what’s got your panties in a twist, and I don’t care,” Spade said tersely. “Settle it—now. If you really want to rescue whatever it is you’re rescuing, you can’t afford to haul personal baggage into that hangar. You’ll get us all killed, or worse. Get your people out, and then you can argue about whatever bug is up your collective butts until the cows come home.”
The late alien blinked. “You humans certainly do have colorful metaphors.”
“You think that’s colorful? Keep up this bullshit, and I’ll show you ‘colorful’,” Spade said furiously. “Now, are you coming? Because I’m going, and if you pull something like this on me again, I’m not coming back for you.”
Spade marched away, not bothering to look back to see if they were following.
******************************************************
Private Spade peeked around the corner at the two MP’s guarding the entrance to Hangar 20. Guarding this entrance, at any rate. No doubt all the entrances would be guarded, but this was the most isolated interior entrance, therefore the best one to attempt to breach.
Crouched beside him was Alien #1, the one who had hauled him out of his “cell”. Spade had heard some names fly by, but he hadn’t bothered to pay attention, so he still mentally referred to them as #1 and #2. Alien #2, the one who had arrived later, had gone off to do some reconnaissance, and Spade, for one, didn’t miss him. #2 was rude and dismissive. #1 wasn’t going to win any personality contests, but he clearly understood the value of an inside source.
“What did you refuse to lie about?” Alien #1 said suddenly, making Spade jump.
“What?”
“You said you were incarcerated because you refused to lie for ‘them’. I assume you mean your commanding officers. What did they want you to lie about?”
“Why do you care?”
“I’m familiar with someone being incarcerated for lying,” Alien #1 said, in that flat, expressionless voice of his. “I am less familiar with someone being incarcerated for not lying. Humans are strange.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” Spade muttered, glancing pointedly at Alien #1 for a moment before looking back toward the hangar doors. “They wanted me to say that your scientist friend back there didn’t kill two other soldiers this morning, but he did. He admitted it. And then they wanted me to say your friend attacked me and that was the reason they shot him. But he didn’t attack me—he was surrendering to me.” He looked back at #1. “They’re trying to cover all of this up. Your ship. Your people. Everything. They’re going to try and keep it secret, and I don’t think they should.”
Alien #1 considered this in silence for a moment. “What are they going to do to you when they discover you’ve escaped?”
“Nothing good,” Spade replied shortly. “Captain Cavitt—that’s my CO—is gunning for me. He’ll use this somehow to bring me down.”
“You asked me to take you with me,” Alien #1 said, moving closer to Spade. “Why would you want that when it could be used against you?”
“Because it doesn’t matter what happens—Cavitt will find a way to destroy me. He basically has to because I challenged his honesty. If it hadn’t been this, it would have something else. Just would have taken longer. Going with you gave me one last chance to fix the mistakes I’ve made.”
Their eyes locked for a moment, and Spade was surprised to see a hint of—admiration? But it was only a hint, and it disappeared quickly.
Alien #2 appeared abruptly, as if out of nowhere. How do they do that? Spade wondered to himself. #2 looked awful, haggard and exhausted, and Spade suddenly had doubts that they’d be able to pull this off with #2 in this condition. He opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. #2 definitely didn’t like it when he thought his competence was being questioned.
“There are no guards inside,” reported #2, “but there are guards posted outside at every exit.”
“Good,” Spade replied. “I didn’t think there’d be anyone inside. Not enough people here with so many at the crash site.” He checked his watch. “Time to go. Once you two are inside, I’ll follow and watch for the real guards. Do you remember what I told you to say?”
#2 shot him yet another withering look, but Spade didn’t wither. He was beginning to suspect that withering looks were typical for #2. “Go. Now,” Spade instructed.
Both aliens left without hesitation. Spade hung back, crossing his fingers and praying this would work. It was one thing to look like an MP, and quite another to sound like one.
A few moments later, he decided he needn’t have worried. The two aliens smoothly exchanged places with the two guards, sounding so much like the real thing that even Spade would have been convinced if he hadn’t known better. They nailed their “we’re relieving you a bit early” speeches perfectly, and fortunately the guards didn’t say anything unexpected. The guards started down the long hallway where Spade was hiding, and he pulled back into the shadow of a doorway to stay out of sight.
“Wait,” one of the guards said. Spade froze. So close. He peeked around the corner.
“Where is the third?” one of the guards was asking the aliens, who had calmly taken up stations outside the entrance to the hangar.
“Coming soon,” #2 replied without missing a beat. “We’re just a bit early.”
The guards nodded, satisfied, and continued down the hallway. As soon as they were out of sight, Spade scooted down to join the aliens, who already had the doors open. “Hold up.”
Spade took a deep breath and looked #2 directly in the eye. He wasn’t going to like this question. “Are you absolutely certain there weren’t any guards inside?”
“Of course I’m absolutely certain, human,” #2 said icily. “It would be hard to miss something like that.”
Spade pressed on, ignoring #2’s murderous look. His feeling of unease was growing. “But they were looking for another man. What if there’s someone else in there?”
“They might have been referring to someone who’s being added to guard detail,” interjected #1, with a glance at #2 that said ”Simmer down”.
“Let me go in first and look around,” Spade said. All his alarms were jangling now. #2 was not in good shape—he could easily have missed something.
“No time,” #2 said sharply, and pushed through the doors of the hangar, with Spade reluctantly following.
Inside it was brightly lit and eerily silent. Hard as he tried to walk quietly, Spade’s footsteps still sounded loud to his ears. The aliens, on the other hand, made virtually no sound as they padded quickly around the hangar, #2 leading the way.
It certainly looks deserted, Spade mused as he took his station beside the door. Rows of trucks jammed the hangar, more trucks than he had ever seen in one place, each one filled, no doubt, with some kind of booty from the crash site that ordinary soldiers weren’t trusted to unload. Craning his neck this way and that, he looked for any signs of other guards. Nothing. That should have made him feel better, but it didn’t. That tiny voice in the back of his mind was still replaying the MP’s words: “Where is the third?”
Spade stuffed his hands in his pockets and paced in front of the hangar doors. He couldn’t see the aliens anymore, and in a way that was a relief. Very soon they would no longer be his problem, and his conscience would be clear—or clearer, anyway. He glanced nervously out through the windows in the doors, but no one was coming. He checked his watch; only three minutes had passed, yet it seemed to be taking forever. Would they tell him when they were finished, or would they just leave him there?
I need a cigarette, Spade thought, marching up to a nearby truck and looking into the cab. If he was really lucky, someone might have left a pack behind. He was always losing them during his stints on guard duty, sitting in the truck for hours on end and………. Oh, God.
Spade stood petrified, as it finally hit him: The third guard was in the truck. That’s how #2 had missed him. With this much stuff packed in here, he would have missed it himself unless he’d been looking from just the right angle.
Taking one frantic look back at the hangar doors, Spade started searching row by row. They’d been so quiet he had no idea where they were, and he didn’t dare call out to them. He hadn’t heard anything at all, so no one had found them—yet. He checked his watch as he jogged from row to row. Five minutes and counting. He rounded the next bend and screeched to a halt.
The aliens were standing at the back of a truck. The doors had been flung open, and a weird glow was coming from inside. And leaning out the window of the cab was a guard, his gun rising.
“Look out!” Spade yelled, charging down the narrow aisle.
Three faces turned, startled. The guard recovered first, slipping out of the cab and aiming. #1 saw him and raised his hand, flinging the guard back against a nearby truck—but not fast enough. The gun went off, and #2 crumpled to the ground.
Spade skidded to a halt, panting heavily and thinking frantically. They had to get out of here. The guard had been knocked unconscious, but someone had undoubtedly heard that gun go off. They didn’t have long.
“Go!” he ordered #1, who was hovering over #2, and looking back and forth from his fallen companion to the truck. “They won’t miss that gunshot!”
As if on cue, shouts were heard in the distance, followed by the sound of opening doors and running feet. Spade glanced toward the back of the truck. That weird glow was coming from huge, glowing….somethings. Somethings that looked much too large to be maneuvered out of an Army base on full alert by one person.
“Can you get those out of here by yourself?” Spade asked. Alien #1 continued to hesitate, obviously torn between saving what—or who—they had been rescuing, or saving the body on the floor.
Spade squatted down and looked #1 in the eye. “Can you save him?” he asked tensely, indicating #2. The running feet were getting closer. This time Alien #1 nodded without hesitation.
“Then get him out of here,” Spade ordered. #1 looked back at the truck, and Spade grabbed his shoulders and wrenched him back around. Not the smartest thing to do with someone capable of killing with a touch, perhaps, but he was desperate. “Listen to me! You can’t save those!” he hissed urgently, indicating the truck. “The entire base is on full alert, and you’re all alone. You’ll have to come back later, and when you do, they’ll be ready for you. They’ll have found the other bodies, and they’ll know there are more of you out there. You’re going to need all the help you can get when you try again. You’re going to need him. Understand?”
Slowly, #1 nodded. He rose to his feet and extended his hand, palm out.
What the hell? was all Spade had time to think before he flew backward and smashed into the side of a truck.
******************************************************
As the sirens sounded, Yvonne White looked up from the book she had been reading. Pulling a chair up to the tiny basement window by the ceiling, she craned her neck to see what was happening. Sirens roared, lights flashed, and soldiers were running. Running toward the other end of the base, where the hangars were.
“Oh, no,” she whispered.
Part 48
PART FORTY-EIGHT
July 8, 1947, 2405 hours
Eagle Rock Military Base
“What’s happening?” came a weak voice from the other side of the room.
Yvonne turned from her high perch to find the creature awake, with a grave expression on its face. At least she thought it was a grave expression. Their faces did not move the way human faces did; it was more in the tilt of their heads and the blink of those huge eyes that one could discern expression.
“I think something went wrong,” she said worriedly. “Those sirens mean the base is being locked down, and everyone’s running toward where your people were heading.”
“They were discovered,” the creature said resignedly.
“Most likely,” Yvonne said, climbing down from the chair. “But that doesn’t mean they were captured. They may have escaped.”
“Perhaps,” the creature agreed. “But either way, they will not be coming back for me any time soon.”
Yvonne didn’t know what to say. They both knew what that meant. Ever since the aliens had left, the creature had been growing weaker and weaker, as if the effort expended to talk to them—to argue with them—had used up what little energy it had had left. The doctors the Army had called would be here in just a few hours, and she was powerless to stop what would happen then. If its people did not return to help it….
Yvonne stopped, unwilling to follow that thought to its logical conclusion. Pulling up a chair, she sat down beside the creature, no longer afraid of being close to it.,
“You never told me your name,” she said gently.
“You never told me yours either,” it responded, in a slightly teasing voice.
Yvonne blinked in surprise. It was true she hadn’t introduced herself. That was usually one of the first things she did when a patient regained consciousness, regardless of nationality or native tongue. There was really no excuse for her omission.
“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “I should have introduced myself. My name is Yvonne.”
“And I am Urza,” the creature replied, “although there is one who calls me ‘James’.”
“Really?” Yvonne said, surprised. “Does that mean you’re a …….” She stopped, wondering if inquiring outright about its gender was appropriate.
“Does that mean I’m male?” the creature finished, still in that same faintly teasing tone. “Humans are very concerned about gender, aren’t they?” He moved slightly, and gave a grunt of pain. “Technically I am neither male nor female, in your sense of the words. But you may think of me as male if you prefer.”
“Why don’t I just think of you as ‘Urza’?” Yvonne replied, smiling. “Although we will have a pronoun problem. We humans are very attached to our pronouns, you know. Almost as much as we are to our genders.”
The creature—Urza—returned her smile. She could see it now, just a slight uplift of the corners of the tiny mouth. “I have appreciated your kindness today. I know my appearance must frighten you. I’m sorry I don’t have the strength to alter it.”
“So that’s why the other two looked…..human? Your people can change how you look?” Urza nodded. “How does that work, exactly?”
“It has to do with the compression and expansion of molecules,” Urza replied, “but I doubt you want all the details.”
“Try me,” Yvonne said seriously.
Urza chuckled, and paid for it with a coughing fit that lasted a full minute. Yvonne watched him anxiously until it passed. “I’d love to,” he said, when he could talk again, “but I’m afraid I haven’t much strength left. And what little I have must be used for one last task.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Perhaps,” Urza replied. “I will be going to sleep now. It is likely I will not awaken.”
Yvonne was taken aback by this abrupt announcement. “But….I thought you said you had one more task?”
“I do,” Urza whispered, his voice beginning to fail him. “I will accomplish it in my sleep, and it will consume my remaining energy. I would appreciate it if you would leave me undisturbed for as long as possible so that I may complete it. Goodbye and…..thank you again.”
“But…..but…..they said they could help you even if you appeared dead,” Yvonne whispered, tears springing to her eyes. This all sounded so final. Urza clearly expected to die and stay that way. “They may have escaped,” she pressed, desperate for some hope. “They may still make it back down here.”
But Urza had already closed his eyes, lapsing into what looked more like unconsciousness than sleep. Yvonne reached out to touch him, then remembered that he had wished not to be disturbed. It took enormous effort to pull back her hand. She closed the curtain and sat down at her desk, letting the tears spill down her cheeks.
She had granted many dying wishes in her day but, for some reason, this one was the hardest.
******************************************************
Proctor residence
Dee Proctor sat up in her bed, shaking and sweating. Another bad dream, the third one tonight. She crawled out of bed and knelt on the bench by the window, the one she had been looking through when she had seen James’s ship crash. As muggy summer air poured through, settling on everything like a damp sponge, she wondered again where they all were and whether she’d ever see any of them alive again.
Her mother had had a curious reaction to the news that Brivari had left. At first she had closed her eyes with a look of relief. Then she had taken her father to task for letting Brivari go. He wasn’t ready, Mama had argued. He would get himself killed. He was still too weak.
But Dee’s father had been firm: They were in no position to dictate to these people, and besides, he knew what it was like to have your men captured. The reference to the war shut down the conversation like it usually did, and their very, very late dinner had proceeded in silence. Dee hadn’t minded. Despite all her napping she was too exhausted to talk, or even to care very much that her parents were quarreling. She wanted some news, some good news for a change. Something to tell her that everything they had just been through had been worth it, because lately she’d been having her doubts.
Dee pushed her damp hair off her face and headed back to bed. She didn’t really feel like trying to sleep again given the dreams she’d been having, but she was exhausted. She moved the small, round fan on her window sill so that it was blowing right toward her. Maybe that would help.
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
“Stephen? Are you awake?”
Private Spade was dimly aware of someone calling his name. Eyes still closed, he turned toward the voice only to be rewarded with a pounding headache. Bad idea, moving.
“Wake up! I need to talk to you!” the voice whispered urgently.
Go to hell, Spade thought. If merely moving his head had produced this much agony, whoever it was could just forget about talking.
“Stephen, please! It’s Yvonne.”
Yvonne? That pretty nurse from alien-land? Now that was different. She deserved some effort. Spade experimentally cracked an eyelid and was pleased to find that wherever he was was pleasantly dim. He certainly didn’t need a blast of light assaulting his eyeballs.
“Oh, thank goodness!” Yvonne whispered. “I was afraid you were still unconscious!” Her worried face blurred above him, and Spade was dimly aware of her looking cautiously around. “I only have a few minutes, and I wanted to get to you before anyone else did.”
Unconscious? Why would he be unconscious? And where the hell was he, anyway? Spade cautiously opened both eyes and looked around, being careful to move only his eyes and not his still exploding head. Rows of beds. White uniformed figures.
The infirmary. He was in the infirmary, stretched out in a bed without a stitch on except one of those ridiculous hospital gowns. But how had he gotten here? His head hurt like hell and his memory was fuzzy, but he dimly recalled taking those annoying, bickering aliens to Hangar 20. And then what?
Spade sat up so suddenly that Yvonne lurched backward. “He attacked me!” he exploded, as his memory came flooding back. “That bastard! After all I did for them, he attacked me—again!”
“Keep your voice down!” Yvonne hissed sternly. “No one is quite certain yet just what happened down there, and you need to decide what you’re going to tell them before they realize you’re awake and send someone to take a statement.”
“He attacked me!” Spade repeated, ignoring her but lowering his voice to a furious whisper. “He………”
“………saved you,” she said firmly. “By attacking you, he saved you.”
Spade looked at her uncomprehendingly. “What? What the hell are you talking about? He threw me against the side of a truck, and not for the first time tonight, I might add. After what I did for them, how dare they……”
“Please, pipe down and listen to me!” Yvonne begged, grabbing him by the shoulders. That worked, if only because by grabbing him she had set off more bombs inside his head. He sank back onto the pillow, holding his head in his hands. “What do you remember?” she was asking, casting furtive glances around the room. There were a couple of other nurses in the distance, but no one close. Why would she care?
“I remember…….I remember going to the Hangar, and trying to figure out what the guards there had meant about “the third”. We didn’t see anyone else inside.” He paused a moment. Talking made his headache worse. “They went looking for the truck that had……whatever it was they wanted, and then I realized the third guard must be in the truck. That’s why no one had spotted him. And I went running to find them, and………” Spade stopped, remembering the guard slipping out of the truck when Spade had yelled, pointing his gun at the two aliens in the back by the open doors with that weird glow. “The guard fired. He hit one of them. The other one threw the guard against the truck and knocked him out.”
“And then what?” she prompted.
“And then I told the alien to get out of there. Told him to leave whatever was in the truck and take his friend instead. They’re gonna have a tougher row to hoe when they come back. Everyone’ll know there here now. And then he blasted me.” Spade shook his head and was instantly sorry. Damn! He kept forgetting not to move his head. “Those people are weird, plain and simple.”
“Let me tell you what happened afterwards,” Yvonne said, speaking quickly. “The guard regained consciousness before you did. He claimed that you were working with the aliens, that when you yelled, you were warning them, not him.”
Spade was silent. Who had he been warning? The aliens? Or the guard? Even now, he couldn’t say for sure.
“But the others who came when they heard the gun go off saw him attack you, so they argued that you must have been kidnapped from your cell and made to help,” Yvonne continued. “That’s what everyone is thinking right now, and it would be in your best interest to let them continue thinking that. By throwing you against the truck, he basically got you off the hook—that, and a sizeable concussion,” she added ruefully.
Spade blinked. Carefully. This was all starting to make sense, in a convoluted, alien sort of way. He’d told Alien #1 that he was in trouble, and it looked like the bastard had actually fished him out of the hot water.
“They also found the guards they killed.” Yvonne swallowed visibly. “The one outside your room, and the one outside mine. The base is a mess right now. That’s how I managed to slip up here. Everone’s going nuts.”
“Of course they are,” Spade said. “Now they know there are more aliens out there.” He carefully shifted his eyes to lock with hers. “Why are you up here? What about the one that was still alive?”
“I don’t think he is anymore. Or if he is, only just barely,” Yvonne replied. Her voice shook, and so did her hands. “Whatever happened between them wore him out. And…..” She paused, clearly very upset about something.
“What is it?”
Yvonne leaned in closer. “The doctors are almost here,” she whispered with yet another hasty look around. “They’ll be here within the hour. And when they get here, they’ll…..”
“……do an autopsy,” Spade finished heavily.
“What do I do?” Yvonne asked urgently. “They said they could help him even if he looked dead, but I’m certain they won’t be able to help him if he’s cut up into little pieces.”
“Give them the other body first. The one……..” Spade swallowed, remembering the hail of bullets that sent the small gray figure with its arms raised in surrender crashing to the floor. “The one they said they couldn’t help. That’ll buy more time.”
“But they’ll want to start with the one who died first, and they think that’s Urza. I never told anyone he was still alive.”
“Urza?”
“That’s his name. He told me.”
Spade closed his eyes, vaguely remembering. So much had been happening that he hadn’t bothered even trying to remember the alien names that had floated by. He hadn’t wanted to anyway. Knowing their names made them more…….human. To know someone’s name made anything that happened to them more personal. Made it matter.
“Look, just give them the other body. That’s the one who died first, so you’re not doing anything wrong. As long as no one is there who actually brought them in, no one will know. Put your foot down.”
Yvonne hesitated a moment, then nodded. “I’ll try.” She stood up. “I should get back before someone misses me. Good luck,” she added, squeezing his hand.
“Wait,” Spade said. “You didn’t say what happened to the others. Did they get out?”
“I know they haven’t found them, at least not yet,” Yvonne said. “They have orders to shoot to kill. Everyone is convinced they’re cold-blooded killers.”
“Can you blame them?” Spade muttered, visions of silver handprints dancing in his head.
“But if they’re cold-blooded killers, then……..why are we still alive?”
Good question. The aliens had had several opportunities to kill both of them, and hadn’t. “Where do you think they are?” he asked softly. “Where would they go?”
Yvonne shook her head. “I have no idea.”
******************************************************
Proctor residence
Emily Proctor sat bolt upright in bed. What was that noise? She tensed, wide awake, listening. She heard nothing, but….[/i] something[/i] had awakened her. Beside her David never budged, sleeping the sleep of the exhausted. Watching him, Emily almost wished that she were that exhausted. That would be preferable to the uneasy dozing and strange dreams she had been experiencing.
Slipping quietly out of bed, Emily headed for her daughter’s room. Dee was moving, rolling from side to side, but she appeared to be asleep. She checked the guest room and the bathroom, finding nothing amiss. Leaning over the banisters, she peered down both the front and the back stairs. The dark house was still and silent.
Relaxing a little, Emily headed back to her room. I’m just jumpy, she thought to herself, just being a ninny. And she hadn’t experienced even half of what her husband and daughter had gone through. No wonder Dee was thrashing in her sleep.
Emily paused as she passed her daughter’s bedroom. Dee was quiet now, motionless, smiling, and Emily smiled as she moved away. At least one of them was having good dreams tonight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The fan didn’t help. Dee fell asleep almost at once, and immediately found herself in the same place she’d wound up every single time she’d fallen asleep tonight—alone inside the aliens’ ship, crouched in a corner in the room where she and Urza and Valeris had hidden. Shouting and running feet could be heard in the distance, and the sounds kept coming closer and closer. She looked around frantically, but there was no way out. She had to get out! Panicking, she bolted from her hiding place and ran, only to encounter a soldier who raised his gun and……….
Strong hands grabbed her. She kicked and thrashed, more frightened than ever. This had never happened in the dream before. What would they do to her now that they knew she had been with aliens? Would they take her away from her parents and put her in a cage like a rat? What would they do if they found out she could hear their mind speech? What would they do to her parents if they learned they knew about aliens too?
<This is quite a nightmare, isn’t it?> said a soft voice.
Dee stopped struggling and turned her head to look at the person holding her. She knew that voice, and it didn’t belong to a soldier.
“James?”
July 8, 1947, 2405 hours
Eagle Rock Military Base
“What’s happening?” came a weak voice from the other side of the room.
Yvonne turned from her high perch to find the creature awake, with a grave expression on its face. At least she thought it was a grave expression. Their faces did not move the way human faces did; it was more in the tilt of their heads and the blink of those huge eyes that one could discern expression.
“I think something went wrong,” she said worriedly. “Those sirens mean the base is being locked down, and everyone’s running toward where your people were heading.”
“They were discovered,” the creature said resignedly.
“Most likely,” Yvonne said, climbing down from the chair. “But that doesn’t mean they were captured. They may have escaped.”
“Perhaps,” the creature agreed. “But either way, they will not be coming back for me any time soon.”
Yvonne didn’t know what to say. They both knew what that meant. Ever since the aliens had left, the creature had been growing weaker and weaker, as if the effort expended to talk to them—to argue with them—had used up what little energy it had had left. The doctors the Army had called would be here in just a few hours, and she was powerless to stop what would happen then. If its people did not return to help it….
Yvonne stopped, unwilling to follow that thought to its logical conclusion. Pulling up a chair, she sat down beside the creature, no longer afraid of being close to it.,
“You never told me your name,” she said gently.
“You never told me yours either,” it responded, in a slightly teasing voice.
Yvonne blinked in surprise. It was true she hadn’t introduced herself. That was usually one of the first things she did when a patient regained consciousness, regardless of nationality or native tongue. There was really no excuse for her omission.
“I’m sorry,” she said sincerely. “I should have introduced myself. My name is Yvonne.”
“And I am Urza,” the creature replied, “although there is one who calls me ‘James’.”
“Really?” Yvonne said, surprised. “Does that mean you’re a …….” She stopped, wondering if inquiring outright about its gender was appropriate.
“Does that mean I’m male?” the creature finished, still in that same faintly teasing tone. “Humans are very concerned about gender, aren’t they?” He moved slightly, and gave a grunt of pain. “Technically I am neither male nor female, in your sense of the words. But you may think of me as male if you prefer.”
“Why don’t I just think of you as ‘Urza’?” Yvonne replied, smiling. “Although we will have a pronoun problem. We humans are very attached to our pronouns, you know. Almost as much as we are to our genders.”
The creature—Urza—returned her smile. She could see it now, just a slight uplift of the corners of the tiny mouth. “I have appreciated your kindness today. I know my appearance must frighten you. I’m sorry I don’t have the strength to alter it.”
“So that’s why the other two looked…..human? Your people can change how you look?” Urza nodded. “How does that work, exactly?”
“It has to do with the compression and expansion of molecules,” Urza replied, “but I doubt you want all the details.”
“Try me,” Yvonne said seriously.
Urza chuckled, and paid for it with a coughing fit that lasted a full minute. Yvonne watched him anxiously until it passed. “I’d love to,” he said, when he could talk again, “but I’m afraid I haven’t much strength left. And what little I have must be used for one last task.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Perhaps,” Urza replied. “I will be going to sleep now. It is likely I will not awaken.”
Yvonne was taken aback by this abrupt announcement. “But….I thought you said you had one more task?”
“I do,” Urza whispered, his voice beginning to fail him. “I will accomplish it in my sleep, and it will consume my remaining energy. I would appreciate it if you would leave me undisturbed for as long as possible so that I may complete it. Goodbye and…..thank you again.”
“But…..but…..they said they could help you even if you appeared dead,” Yvonne whispered, tears springing to her eyes. This all sounded so final. Urza clearly expected to die and stay that way. “They may have escaped,” she pressed, desperate for some hope. “They may still make it back down here.”
But Urza had already closed his eyes, lapsing into what looked more like unconsciousness than sleep. Yvonne reached out to touch him, then remembered that he had wished not to be disturbed. It took enormous effort to pull back her hand. She closed the curtain and sat down at her desk, letting the tears spill down her cheeks.
She had granted many dying wishes in her day but, for some reason, this one was the hardest.
******************************************************
Proctor residence
Dee Proctor sat up in her bed, shaking and sweating. Another bad dream, the third one tonight. She crawled out of bed and knelt on the bench by the window, the one she had been looking through when she had seen James’s ship crash. As muggy summer air poured through, settling on everything like a damp sponge, she wondered again where they all were and whether she’d ever see any of them alive again.
Her mother had had a curious reaction to the news that Brivari had left. At first she had closed her eyes with a look of relief. Then she had taken her father to task for letting Brivari go. He wasn’t ready, Mama had argued. He would get himself killed. He was still too weak.
But Dee’s father had been firm: They were in no position to dictate to these people, and besides, he knew what it was like to have your men captured. The reference to the war shut down the conversation like it usually did, and their very, very late dinner had proceeded in silence. Dee hadn’t minded. Despite all her napping she was too exhausted to talk, or even to care very much that her parents were quarreling. She wanted some news, some good news for a change. Something to tell her that everything they had just been through had been worth it, because lately she’d been having her doubts.
Dee pushed her damp hair off her face and headed back to bed. She didn’t really feel like trying to sleep again given the dreams she’d been having, but she was exhausted. She moved the small, round fan on her window sill so that it was blowing right toward her. Maybe that would help.
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
“Stephen? Are you awake?”
Private Spade was dimly aware of someone calling his name. Eyes still closed, he turned toward the voice only to be rewarded with a pounding headache. Bad idea, moving.
“Wake up! I need to talk to you!” the voice whispered urgently.
Go to hell, Spade thought. If merely moving his head had produced this much agony, whoever it was could just forget about talking.
“Stephen, please! It’s Yvonne.”
Yvonne? That pretty nurse from alien-land? Now that was different. She deserved some effort. Spade experimentally cracked an eyelid and was pleased to find that wherever he was was pleasantly dim. He certainly didn’t need a blast of light assaulting his eyeballs.
“Oh, thank goodness!” Yvonne whispered. “I was afraid you were still unconscious!” Her worried face blurred above him, and Spade was dimly aware of her looking cautiously around. “I only have a few minutes, and I wanted to get to you before anyone else did.”
Unconscious? Why would he be unconscious? And where the hell was he, anyway? Spade cautiously opened both eyes and looked around, being careful to move only his eyes and not his still exploding head. Rows of beds. White uniformed figures.
The infirmary. He was in the infirmary, stretched out in a bed without a stitch on except one of those ridiculous hospital gowns. But how had he gotten here? His head hurt like hell and his memory was fuzzy, but he dimly recalled taking those annoying, bickering aliens to Hangar 20. And then what?
Spade sat up so suddenly that Yvonne lurched backward. “He attacked me!” he exploded, as his memory came flooding back. “That bastard! After all I did for them, he attacked me—again!”
“Keep your voice down!” Yvonne hissed sternly. “No one is quite certain yet just what happened down there, and you need to decide what you’re going to tell them before they realize you’re awake and send someone to take a statement.”
“He attacked me!” Spade repeated, ignoring her but lowering his voice to a furious whisper. “He………”
“………saved you,” she said firmly. “By attacking you, he saved you.”
Spade looked at her uncomprehendingly. “What? What the hell are you talking about? He threw me against the side of a truck, and not for the first time tonight, I might add. After what I did for them, how dare they……”
“Please, pipe down and listen to me!” Yvonne begged, grabbing him by the shoulders. That worked, if only because by grabbing him she had set off more bombs inside his head. He sank back onto the pillow, holding his head in his hands. “What do you remember?” she was asking, casting furtive glances around the room. There were a couple of other nurses in the distance, but no one close. Why would she care?
“I remember…….I remember going to the Hangar, and trying to figure out what the guards there had meant about “the third”. We didn’t see anyone else inside.” He paused a moment. Talking made his headache worse. “They went looking for the truck that had……whatever it was they wanted, and then I realized the third guard must be in the truck. That’s why no one had spotted him. And I went running to find them, and………” Spade stopped, remembering the guard slipping out of the truck when Spade had yelled, pointing his gun at the two aliens in the back by the open doors with that weird glow. “The guard fired. He hit one of them. The other one threw the guard against the truck and knocked him out.”
“And then what?” she prompted.
“And then I told the alien to get out of there. Told him to leave whatever was in the truck and take his friend instead. They’re gonna have a tougher row to hoe when they come back. Everyone’ll know there here now. And then he blasted me.” Spade shook his head and was instantly sorry. Damn! He kept forgetting not to move his head. “Those people are weird, plain and simple.”
“Let me tell you what happened afterwards,” Yvonne said, speaking quickly. “The guard regained consciousness before you did. He claimed that you were working with the aliens, that when you yelled, you were warning them, not him.”
Spade was silent. Who had he been warning? The aliens? Or the guard? Even now, he couldn’t say for sure.
“But the others who came when they heard the gun go off saw him attack you, so they argued that you must have been kidnapped from your cell and made to help,” Yvonne continued. “That’s what everyone is thinking right now, and it would be in your best interest to let them continue thinking that. By throwing you against the truck, he basically got you off the hook—that, and a sizeable concussion,” she added ruefully.
Spade blinked. Carefully. This was all starting to make sense, in a convoluted, alien sort of way. He’d told Alien #1 that he was in trouble, and it looked like the bastard had actually fished him out of the hot water.
“They also found the guards they killed.” Yvonne swallowed visibly. “The one outside your room, and the one outside mine. The base is a mess right now. That’s how I managed to slip up here. Everone’s going nuts.”
“Of course they are,” Spade said. “Now they know there are more aliens out there.” He carefully shifted his eyes to lock with hers. “Why are you up here? What about the one that was still alive?”
“I don’t think he is anymore. Or if he is, only just barely,” Yvonne replied. Her voice shook, and so did her hands. “Whatever happened between them wore him out. And…..” She paused, clearly very upset about something.
“What is it?”
Yvonne leaned in closer. “The doctors are almost here,” she whispered with yet another hasty look around. “They’ll be here within the hour. And when they get here, they’ll…..”
“……do an autopsy,” Spade finished heavily.
“What do I do?” Yvonne asked urgently. “They said they could help him even if he looked dead, but I’m certain they won’t be able to help him if he’s cut up into little pieces.”
“Give them the other body first. The one……..” Spade swallowed, remembering the hail of bullets that sent the small gray figure with its arms raised in surrender crashing to the floor. “The one they said they couldn’t help. That’ll buy more time.”
“But they’ll want to start with the one who died first, and they think that’s Urza. I never told anyone he was still alive.”
“Urza?”
“That’s his name. He told me.”
Spade closed his eyes, vaguely remembering. So much had been happening that he hadn’t bothered even trying to remember the alien names that had floated by. He hadn’t wanted to anyway. Knowing their names made them more…….human. To know someone’s name made anything that happened to them more personal. Made it matter.
“Look, just give them the other body. That’s the one who died first, so you’re not doing anything wrong. As long as no one is there who actually brought them in, no one will know. Put your foot down.”
Yvonne hesitated a moment, then nodded. “I’ll try.” She stood up. “I should get back before someone misses me. Good luck,” she added, squeezing his hand.
“Wait,” Spade said. “You didn’t say what happened to the others. Did they get out?”
“I know they haven’t found them, at least not yet,” Yvonne said. “They have orders to shoot to kill. Everyone is convinced they’re cold-blooded killers.”
“Can you blame them?” Spade muttered, visions of silver handprints dancing in his head.
“But if they’re cold-blooded killers, then……..why are we still alive?”
Good question. The aliens had had several opportunities to kill both of them, and hadn’t. “Where do you think they are?” he asked softly. “Where would they go?”
Yvonne shook her head. “I have no idea.”
******************************************************
Proctor residence
Emily Proctor sat bolt upright in bed. What was that noise? She tensed, wide awake, listening. She heard nothing, but….[/i] something[/i] had awakened her. Beside her David never budged, sleeping the sleep of the exhausted. Watching him, Emily almost wished that she were that exhausted. That would be preferable to the uneasy dozing and strange dreams she had been experiencing.
Slipping quietly out of bed, Emily headed for her daughter’s room. Dee was moving, rolling from side to side, but she appeared to be asleep. She checked the guest room and the bathroom, finding nothing amiss. Leaning over the banisters, she peered down both the front and the back stairs. The dark house was still and silent.
Relaxing a little, Emily headed back to her room. I’m just jumpy, she thought to herself, just being a ninny. And she hadn’t experienced even half of what her husband and daughter had gone through. No wonder Dee was thrashing in her sleep.
Emily paused as she passed her daughter’s bedroom. Dee was quiet now, motionless, smiling, and Emily smiled as she moved away. At least one of them was having good dreams tonight.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The fan didn’t help. Dee fell asleep almost at once, and immediately found herself in the same place she’d wound up every single time she’d fallen asleep tonight—alone inside the aliens’ ship, crouched in a corner in the room where she and Urza and Valeris had hidden. Shouting and running feet could be heard in the distance, and the sounds kept coming closer and closer. She looked around frantically, but there was no way out. She had to get out! Panicking, she bolted from her hiding place and ran, only to encounter a soldier who raised his gun and……….
Strong hands grabbed her. She kicked and thrashed, more frightened than ever. This had never happened in the dream before. What would they do to her now that they knew she had been with aliens? Would they take her away from her parents and put her in a cage like a rat? What would they do if they found out she could hear their mind speech? What would they do to her parents if they learned they knew about aliens too?
<This is quite a nightmare, isn’t it?> said a soft voice.
Dee stopped struggling and turned her head to look at the person holding her. She knew that voice, and it didn’t belong to a soldier.
“James?”
Part 49
PART FORTY-NINE
July 8, 1947, 12:45 a.m.
Proctor residence
“James!” Dee exclaimed, looking him up and down. He was in human form, which meant he had to crouch in the cramped confines of a ship built for smaller people. “You’re all right! They fixed you!”
He smiled, but said nothing. In the back of her mind something prickled, and she wondered about that. But she was so happy and relieved to see him looking so good that she pushed the thought aside. She gave him a huge hug which he returned, and all the sounds of soldiers and pursuit melted away.
Finally, she pulled away and became her practical self again. “Where are we? Are we really in your ship?”
<This is your dream,> James answered in his favorite thought speech. <You were dreaming about being on the ship, so this is where we are.>
“You mean……we’re not really here?”
<No. You are at your home, asleep, and I am……somewhere else.>
Dee felt that prickle again. “Where?”
<That is not important right now.>
“But why are you in my dream?”
<I have the ability to enter others’ dreams, just as I have entered yours.> He glanced around the ship. <Are you sure you want to stay here?>
“Well….if I’m dreaming it, do I have a choice?”
<You can change your dream. I can change your dream too, but only if you let me.>
Dee looked around the ship. There was a time she would have given up dessert for a year if it meant she could have a tour, but now it frightened her. “I always wanted to see the inside of your ship, but now it scares me,” she admitted, as James nodded thoughtfully. “Where did all the soldiers go?”
<You must have stopped dreaming them,> James answered. <Perhaps my arrival made you no longer afraid of them.>
After giving it some more thought, Dee finally said, “I don’t want to stay here. Where can we go?”
<Anywhere you like.>
“Anywhere? Anywhere at all?”
<This is a dream,> James said sensibly. <Anything is possible in dreams.> He settled himself on the floor. <Where would you like to go?>
Wow! Where does one go when the possibilities are infinite? She could go back and see her Uncle. Or maybe James could show her what his planet looked like. For a moment Dee felt inundated with options, paralyzed by choice. James waited patiently while she mentally ticked through dozens of ideas, finally settling on something she was reminded of by the ship in which she sat.
“If your ship had landed—actually landed, not crashed—what would it have looked like?”
James looked up at the ceiling, and suddenly the ceiling disappeared. The entire ship disappeared, leaving them sitting on the ground somewhere in the mountains on a warm summer night. Dee gasped at how real it all felt—the muggy air, the soft grass beneath her, the stars twinkling. And nearby a beautiful saucer, descending slowly, lit up like a million Christmas trees, so bright it made the night sky light up like daylight.
“Oh, James, it’s beautiful! But where are we? This isn’t Pohlman Ranch.”
<These are the mountains we were originally heading for,> James replied, looking wistfully up at the ship. <If all had gone as planned, no one would have known we were here. But I wasn’t able to slow our descent, and we had to make an emergency landing.>
Dee turned to look at him, feeling torn. “I’m really sorry your ship crashed. I’m sorry all this happened. But…if you hadn’t crashed, I wouldn’t have met you, and I’m not sorry I met you. That doesn’t mean I’m glad you crashed, but……” She stopped, feeling suddenly ashamed. “Does that make me a bad person?”
James smiled, still looking up a the ship. <No. I, too, am neither glad we crashed, nor sorry we met. Things happen, and we are left to make the best of it any way we can.> His face darkened, and for a moment he looked sad. <But if things had to go wrong, I’m glad they went wrong where you could find us,> he said sincerely. <We couldn’t have asked for a better friend.>
“It wasn’t enough,” she said sadly. “You got hurt. I don’t know what happened to Valeris.” She paused. “Do you know what happened to Valeris?”
James looked at her gravely. <You did your best,> he said softly. <That is all anyone can do.>
Dee felt a lump forming in her throat. He hadn’t answered her question again. That was twice he had done that, and that couldn’t be good news. But before she could ask him why, James said, <I want to show you something now.>
“Okay.” She probably didn’t want to know the answer to her question anyway. She was fairly certain she wasn’t going to like it.
<We should take the ship,> James was saying. <I think you will enjoy that.>
He led her beneath the hovering dream ship, and a beam of white light shot down, bathing them in brilliance, making her squint. A moment later the light dissolved, and she found herself standing in a large room with lots of controls. James was in his alien form, which no longer looked strange to her. The ceiling was much closer to her head than ceilings usually were, and there were long skinny windows through which she could see the mountains outside.
“Was that just the dream, or is that the way you usually get on your ship?”
<We usually use the entry beam,> James answered calmly, <but it was damaged in the crash, along with almost everything else.> He was standing in front of some sort of controls that looked like crystals, or icicles, and holding what could only be described as the world’s biggest diamond. <This is what you would call a ‘key’,> he explained, placing the ‘diamond’ among the other shimmering, crystal-like controls. <Now we can leave.>
“Leave where?” Dee asked, still looking around wide-eyed, trying to take it all in, wondering what the reaction would be if all the keys on Earth looked like that one.
<Go to the viewport and watch. And remember—this is just a dream.>
Viewport? He must mean the windows. She walked toward the largest one, and all thoughts of unanswered questions dissolved as the window—viewport—was filled with……space. Outer space. Dee pressed her nose against the viewport like a kid watching Christmas toys at the downtown department store.
“Is that….Earth?” she whispered, as a huge, blue-green ball came into view.
“Yes,” James answered softly behind her. “Your world is beautiful from space, is it not? One of the loveliest I’ve seen.”
Dee didn’t answer, her eyes glued to the scene in front of her. The earth turned slowly, swirling white clouds covering blue oceans and greenish-brown land. It looked so…..peaceful. No one would ever have guessed that a huge war had just raged down there.
“I’m the first person to see this,” Dee said, awestruck. “The first Earth person, I mean.”
<Someday your people will learn to leave their world,> James told her, <and then everyone will see it.> He faltered suddenly, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall for support.
“What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” Dee asked, alarmed, as that prickle of fear reared its ugly head again.
<Nothing,> James answered, recovering his balance. <But we had best be going.>
Dee, who could have stood there staring at her swirling planet for a very long time, was about to ask what the hurry was when Earth suddenly disappeared from the window. Stars rushed by, only to be replaced by another planet.
“Mars!” Dee exclaimed. It looked very red, in contrast to Earth’s blues and greens. And it disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by yet another planet.
<I noticed that planet on the way here,> James was saying, sounding for all the world like a travel agent. <Look at all the moons.>
“Jupiter,” she whispered. And there were many, many moons. Many more than anyone knew about, she was sure of that. Someday they’ll discover all of these, she thought to herself. But I already know. Her face was pressed up against the viewport. It felt like glass; whatever it was made of, her breath was misting it. She’d never had a dream that felt this real.
James craned his huge head on his short neck, staring out the viewport as Jupiter drifted away. <I have always loved space travel. Out here it was always peaceful, away from factions, and rivals, and all the petty jealousies that seem to plague people everywhere.>
“Did you do this a lot?”
<We made frequent trips to our neighboring worlds,> James answered matter-of-factly. <I know your race hasn’t yet mastered space travel, so I thought you might like to see this.>
“It is beautiful, James,” Dee said sincerely. “I’m glad you showed me. I….” She stopped as another huge planet loomed through the viewport. A familiar one.
“Is that Saturn?” she squeaked, hardly able to believe her eyes. Saturn had looked interesting in the drawings and blurry pictures she had seen; up close, it was positively breathtaking. “No one has ever seen that except through telescopes!”
<It’s rings are unusually large,> James commented.
Dee stared as Saturn went by, unwilling to take her eyes off it. “James?”
<Yes?>
“Where are we going?”
<I want to show you something. Something important. This is a dream, so we can arrive anytime we like. But first, why don’t we just sit and watch the rest of your solar system pass by.>
Once again Dee had the uncomfortable feeling that James was giving her a going away present, and not the type you give when you are planning to come back and visit. But the scene in front of her was so breathtaking, so magical, that once again she didn’t want to spoil the moment. If what she feared was true she would have the rest of her life to regret it. No point in starting early.
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
“Would you look at that?!”
“What is that?”
“I have no idea.”
Yvonne stood under the hot operating room lights, sweating profusely and hoping desperately that she wouldn’t be sick. She hadn’t had anything to eat for hours, so the most that she would probably do was dry heave. But even that would be inconvenient. Imagine what the doctors would say if she started retching all over their alien autopsy.
She had returned to the isolated room where the bodies were kept only to have the awaited doctors burst in minutes later, breathless and staring. She had never seen these two before, and they didn’t bother to introduce themselves. They spent a full two minutes circling the two bodies silently while she quietly panicked in the background. She had hoped they would be delayed, but no such luck. Urza’s time was running out.
After the doctors had recovered their powers of speech, events had proceeded with what could only be termed unholy speed. Yvonne could understand the scientific urge to study these beings. She had no real objection to an autopsy on the dead creature—it had been dead for some time, had been certified dead by its own people. But there was something faintly uncivilized about being in such a rush to cut something—someone—open. Less than thirty minutes after their arrival, the creature had been photographed, weighed, measured, and split stem to stern.
Yvonne grimaced behind her mask as one of the doctors handed her yet another unidentifiable organ to place on the scale. Convincing them to take this particular creature first had not been a problem; they were so eager to begin, they didn’t much care which they started with. Urza’s body was in the next room, awaiting a similar fate. To all appearances he looked dead; if he wasn’t yet, he certainly would be soon. With any luck this first autopsy would take a good long while.
She set the organ in the pan and looked up at the scale. Her vision blurred for a moment, and she closed her eyes to clear it. God, she was tired. She had tried to slip away after the bodies were moved, but they wouldn’t let her leave. They didn’t want to involve anyone else that they would later need to worry would talk. No doubt she would be severely debriefed after all of this was over and threatened six ways to Sunday. They needn’t worry; the only parts she wanted to talk about were the parts she could never tell.
Sixty-eight grams. She stripped off her alien blood-covered glove and reached for a pencil to record the weight.
“What is that?” Pause. “Is that what I think it is?”
Yvonne turned to see both doctors hunched over the creature’s skull, which had been exposed and opened with little trouble as the bones appeared much softer than human bones. Maybe that’s how they manage to change their shapes, she thought, privately noting that that was one piece of information she was going to keep to herself. One among many.
“Good God,” one of the doctors whispered. He looked up at the other doctor, whose eyes were wide with shock. “Do you realize what this means?”
Yvonne retrieved the unknown organ from the scale pan and took a step closer to see what they were looking at. They were dissecting the creature’s brain—what could they have found that would upset them so much?
Suddenly, as if someone tripped a switch, the organ she was holding crumbled to a fine dust, filtering through her fingers to the floor. Simultaneously, the creature’s entire body noiselessly crumbled to a similar pile of dust on the operating table.
One could have heard a pin drop in the ensuing silence.
******************************************************
Dee continued staring out the viewport, mesmerized. They had passed the outer edges of her solar system, dashing by tiny Pluto, and then things had begun moving faster; James had obviously sped up the dream. Straight ahead was a cluster of stars shaped like the letter “V”. The cluster rapidly became larger and larger until it was clear they were heading for the bottom star in the point of the “V”. As they came closer, she saw planets orbiting the star, five of them. They were headed for the fifth one, a reddish/orange planet, similar to Mars in color but covered in swirling red clouds.
“Is that……is that your………?”
<Home. Yes,> James said quietly. <That is Antar.>
Antar. “Can we……go down there?” she asked hopefully. She had hoped that James would one day be willing to talk about his own world. Now she might actually get to see it.
<Of course.>
The ship dissolved around her, and she found herself standing outdoors on a hilltop under a strange, reddish sky. Antar’s sun was red and smaller than Earth’s, and its three moons glowed orange. The clouds had a pink tint. Dee turned around slowly, taking in the only slightly odd-looking plants, the large body of what appeared to be water at the bottom of the hill, and the soft stuff covering the ground; not grass, but something more like moss.
“The sun is so red,” she said wonderingly. “Why?”
“As stars—suns—grow older, they change color from yellow to red,” James explained. “Our sun is older than yours, so it is red; your Earth still has a younger, more yellowish sun.”
“Where are we?”
<This is Dimaras Rock, a favorite place with the royal family. Vilandra and I came here often.>
“Vilandra?”
<The Princess. My Ward.>
Vilandra. Another alien name to add to the list, and a pretty one at that.
<I had hoped to see it again someday, but……> James’s voice trailed off wistfully, and he fell silent, staring off into space.
Dee suddenly felt very heavy, and sat down on the ground. Something terrible had happened, she was certain of that now. She had thought that his coming to her was good news, but…….
“Why did you bring me here?” she asked in a brittle voice. “You brought me here to say goodbye, didn’t you?” A tear fought its way past her scrunched up eyes, and she swiped at it furiously. She was not going to cry like a weepy girl. She was not.
Two feet planted themselves in front of her. Not small, gray alien feet, but big human feet in work boots. She looked up to find James in human form, wearing the clothes he had worn on the Fourth of July. He sat down in front of her and took her hands in his.
“I wanted you to know that whatever happens, our mission was still a success,” he said earnestly in physical speech. “And we have you to thank for that. Even though things did not go as planned, we still managed to hide most of what we needed to. Sometime within your lifetime our Wards will emerge and return here to take back what was theirs. They will be able to accomplish that because of your kindness and friendship. Antar owes you a great debt.”
“I don’t get it,” Dee said, grateful for something else to think about besides the fact that James was probably dying. “I saw the babies in those sacs. So they’re going to come out when they’re all grown up? But James……what’s going to happen when people see them walking around looking like….well…..like you usually do? Don’t you think people will notice?”
“No,” James answered with certainty. “They are hybrids—half human, half Antarian. They will have human form, so they will look like you. They will return home shortly after they emerge, but I hope you will get the chance to meet them. And if you do…” He hesitated. “If you do meet Vilandra, please tell her that I loved her, and I’m sorry I will not be there for her when she returns.”
A pesky tear spilled down her cheek, and James wiped it away with his hand. “I brought you here to show you just a little of what we fight for. Antar is a beautiful place. It’s worth fighting for…..and worth dying for.”
Dee looked down at their entwined hands, afraid that if she raised her head, she would burst into tears. It was a huge struggle to keep her voice steady.
“They didn’t fix you, did they?”
“No.”
There. It was official now. “And Valeris?”
“He is dead.”
Dee scrambled to her feet and walked away, hugging herself fiercely. Now she was going to cry, and she hated crying in front of people. “It’s not fair!” she wailed, sounding exactly like the eight year-old she was. “After everything we went through, it’s just not fair!”
“Life is not fair,” James said behind her, in the tone of one who knows this for a fact. “It simply….is.”
Dee stood for a long time, looking down at the alien lake and thinking. Thinking about close they had come to missing the Army’s arrival, and how Valeris had been fine when she had left him—tired, perhaps, but fine. And that meant her own people had killed him, the very people she had hoped would be better than that. Not that any of that mattered now.
After a furious five minutes spent wrestling with her emotions, Dee turned around to face James, who was patiently waiting behind her. “How long do you have?”
“Not long.”
Dee looked up at the reddish Antarian sky. She didn’t want to spend the little time they had being angry; she would have lots of time to be angry later. But how do you spend your time when you know for certain that you don’t have much time left? James had already answered that question—he had come home, bringing the only friend he’d made on Earth. But what about her? What would she choose to do with a friend she would shortly never see again?
Finally, she reached a decision. “How would I add something to this dream?”
“Just by thinking it. It is your dream. You can take us from this place if you wish.”
“I do not wish,” she said firmly, sitting down on the ground and patting the seat beside her. “Do me a favor—change into your real form.”
“Don’t you prefer me in human form?”
“Not here. It doesn’t look right. If you only have a little while left, you should be able to spend it in your own form—Urza.”
It was the first time she had used his real name, and he smiled. A moment later, Urza sat beside her, small and gray. And looked up in surprise, as a crackling sound split the air and a burst of color bloomed in the sky.
Fireworks. Dee smiled in satisfaction as they burst, one after another, against the backdrop of that reddish sky. Now she saw why James—Urza—had been so enchanted with color. It wasn’t that Antar didn’t have colors. It just didn’t have the variety of colors that Earth had.
“Why don’t we just sit here and watch the fireworks. Like we did before,” she said.
He nodded, and they both sat in silence on an Antarian rock near an Antarian lake, watching Earth fireworks burst in an Antarian sky. The best of both worlds.
Dee knew when Urza disappeared. She could feel his absence, but she didn’t turn her head to look. Instead she continued staring at the fireworks bursting, putting off for as long as possible the moment when she had to face the fact that he was gone.
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
“What the……….!”
“Incredible!”
Yvonne stood stricken, looking in confusion from the dust at her feet, to the dust on the table, to the dust all around the room. Everything—every organ, blood sample, tissue sample, everything—had turned to dust, a fine, gray dust that seemed to hang in the air, laughing at them.
“What happened?” one of the doctors was saying in consternation.
“It must be a way to keep them from being studied,” said the other with obvious admiration. “After a certain period of time, they basically self-destruct.”
“Well, it certainly worked,” grumbled the first, brushing the fine powder from his hands. “Clean this up,” he barked at Yvonne, who jumped. “And get the other body in here.”
“Shouldn’t we wait until all of this is cleaned?” asked the other doctor doubtfully, looking at the piles of dust in pans and test tubes. “We don’t want to contaminate the second body with the first.”
“We also don’t want the other one to disintegrate like this one just did,” argued the first doctor. “We have no way of knowing when that will happen. We can’t afford to wait. You gather this up,” he said to Yvonne. “We’ll get started on the other body. Hurry up.”
Yvonne’s hands shook as she donned rubber gloves and started sweeping and dumping the various piles of dust into a single container. She tried not to watch as the two doctor’s maneuvered Urza’s tiny body onto the nearby operating table. I’m sorry, she whispered silently as the body went by. I couldn’t save you, and I couldn’t keep you safe until the others could.
She continued sweeping and gathering while the two doctors hastily photographed, weighed, and measured the body. Maybe they would wait until she was finished so she could assist. Doctors never liked to do anything for themselves that a nurse was supposed to do. Perhaps if she just dragged everything out a little longer, just a little longer……..
“In the interest of speed, I’ll assist,” came a voice behind her.
Yvonne screwed her eyes shut as tears spilled over onto her mask.
“Scalpel.”
July 8, 1947, 12:45 a.m.
Proctor residence
“James!” Dee exclaimed, looking him up and down. He was in human form, which meant he had to crouch in the cramped confines of a ship built for smaller people. “You’re all right! They fixed you!”
He smiled, but said nothing. In the back of her mind something prickled, and she wondered about that. But she was so happy and relieved to see him looking so good that she pushed the thought aside. She gave him a huge hug which he returned, and all the sounds of soldiers and pursuit melted away.
Finally, she pulled away and became her practical self again. “Where are we? Are we really in your ship?”
<This is your dream,> James answered in his favorite thought speech. <You were dreaming about being on the ship, so this is where we are.>
“You mean……we’re not really here?”
<No. You are at your home, asleep, and I am……somewhere else.>
Dee felt that prickle again. “Where?”
<That is not important right now.>
“But why are you in my dream?”
<I have the ability to enter others’ dreams, just as I have entered yours.> He glanced around the ship. <Are you sure you want to stay here?>
“Well….if I’m dreaming it, do I have a choice?”
<You can change your dream. I can change your dream too, but only if you let me.>
Dee looked around the ship. There was a time she would have given up dessert for a year if it meant she could have a tour, but now it frightened her. “I always wanted to see the inside of your ship, but now it scares me,” she admitted, as James nodded thoughtfully. “Where did all the soldiers go?”
<You must have stopped dreaming them,> James answered. <Perhaps my arrival made you no longer afraid of them.>
After giving it some more thought, Dee finally said, “I don’t want to stay here. Where can we go?”
<Anywhere you like.>
“Anywhere? Anywhere at all?”
<This is a dream,> James said sensibly. <Anything is possible in dreams.> He settled himself on the floor. <Where would you like to go?>
Wow! Where does one go when the possibilities are infinite? She could go back and see her Uncle. Or maybe James could show her what his planet looked like. For a moment Dee felt inundated with options, paralyzed by choice. James waited patiently while she mentally ticked through dozens of ideas, finally settling on something she was reminded of by the ship in which she sat.
“If your ship had landed—actually landed, not crashed—what would it have looked like?”
James looked up at the ceiling, and suddenly the ceiling disappeared. The entire ship disappeared, leaving them sitting on the ground somewhere in the mountains on a warm summer night. Dee gasped at how real it all felt—the muggy air, the soft grass beneath her, the stars twinkling. And nearby a beautiful saucer, descending slowly, lit up like a million Christmas trees, so bright it made the night sky light up like daylight.
“Oh, James, it’s beautiful! But where are we? This isn’t Pohlman Ranch.”
<These are the mountains we were originally heading for,> James replied, looking wistfully up at the ship. <If all had gone as planned, no one would have known we were here. But I wasn’t able to slow our descent, and we had to make an emergency landing.>
Dee turned to look at him, feeling torn. “I’m really sorry your ship crashed. I’m sorry all this happened. But…if you hadn’t crashed, I wouldn’t have met you, and I’m not sorry I met you. That doesn’t mean I’m glad you crashed, but……” She stopped, feeling suddenly ashamed. “Does that make me a bad person?”
James smiled, still looking up a the ship. <No. I, too, am neither glad we crashed, nor sorry we met. Things happen, and we are left to make the best of it any way we can.> His face darkened, and for a moment he looked sad. <But if things had to go wrong, I’m glad they went wrong where you could find us,> he said sincerely. <We couldn’t have asked for a better friend.>
“It wasn’t enough,” she said sadly. “You got hurt. I don’t know what happened to Valeris.” She paused. “Do you know what happened to Valeris?”
James looked at her gravely. <You did your best,> he said softly. <That is all anyone can do.>
Dee felt a lump forming in her throat. He hadn’t answered her question again. That was twice he had done that, and that couldn’t be good news. But before she could ask him why, James said, <I want to show you something now.>
“Okay.” She probably didn’t want to know the answer to her question anyway. She was fairly certain she wasn’t going to like it.
<We should take the ship,> James was saying. <I think you will enjoy that.>
He led her beneath the hovering dream ship, and a beam of white light shot down, bathing them in brilliance, making her squint. A moment later the light dissolved, and she found herself standing in a large room with lots of controls. James was in his alien form, which no longer looked strange to her. The ceiling was much closer to her head than ceilings usually were, and there were long skinny windows through which she could see the mountains outside.
“Was that just the dream, or is that the way you usually get on your ship?”
<We usually use the entry beam,> James answered calmly, <but it was damaged in the crash, along with almost everything else.> He was standing in front of some sort of controls that looked like crystals, or icicles, and holding what could only be described as the world’s biggest diamond. <This is what you would call a ‘key’,> he explained, placing the ‘diamond’ among the other shimmering, crystal-like controls. <Now we can leave.>
“Leave where?” Dee asked, still looking around wide-eyed, trying to take it all in, wondering what the reaction would be if all the keys on Earth looked like that one.
<Go to the viewport and watch. And remember—this is just a dream.>
Viewport? He must mean the windows. She walked toward the largest one, and all thoughts of unanswered questions dissolved as the window—viewport—was filled with……space. Outer space. Dee pressed her nose against the viewport like a kid watching Christmas toys at the downtown department store.
“Is that….Earth?” she whispered, as a huge, blue-green ball came into view.
“Yes,” James answered softly behind her. “Your world is beautiful from space, is it not? One of the loveliest I’ve seen.”
Dee didn’t answer, her eyes glued to the scene in front of her. The earth turned slowly, swirling white clouds covering blue oceans and greenish-brown land. It looked so…..peaceful. No one would ever have guessed that a huge war had just raged down there.
“I’m the first person to see this,” Dee said, awestruck. “The first Earth person, I mean.”
<Someday your people will learn to leave their world,> James told her, <and then everyone will see it.> He faltered suddenly, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall for support.
“What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” Dee asked, alarmed, as that prickle of fear reared its ugly head again.
<Nothing,> James answered, recovering his balance. <But we had best be going.>
Dee, who could have stood there staring at her swirling planet for a very long time, was about to ask what the hurry was when Earth suddenly disappeared from the window. Stars rushed by, only to be replaced by another planet.
“Mars!” Dee exclaimed. It looked very red, in contrast to Earth’s blues and greens. And it disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by yet another planet.
<I noticed that planet on the way here,> James was saying, sounding for all the world like a travel agent. <Look at all the moons.>
“Jupiter,” she whispered. And there were many, many moons. Many more than anyone knew about, she was sure of that. Someday they’ll discover all of these, she thought to herself. But I already know. Her face was pressed up against the viewport. It felt like glass; whatever it was made of, her breath was misting it. She’d never had a dream that felt this real.
James craned his huge head on his short neck, staring out the viewport as Jupiter drifted away. <I have always loved space travel. Out here it was always peaceful, away from factions, and rivals, and all the petty jealousies that seem to plague people everywhere.>
“Did you do this a lot?”
<We made frequent trips to our neighboring worlds,> James answered matter-of-factly. <I know your race hasn’t yet mastered space travel, so I thought you might like to see this.>
“It is beautiful, James,” Dee said sincerely. “I’m glad you showed me. I….” She stopped as another huge planet loomed through the viewport. A familiar one.
“Is that Saturn?” she squeaked, hardly able to believe her eyes. Saturn had looked interesting in the drawings and blurry pictures she had seen; up close, it was positively breathtaking. “No one has ever seen that except through telescopes!”
<It’s rings are unusually large,> James commented.
Dee stared as Saturn went by, unwilling to take her eyes off it. “James?”
<Yes?>
“Where are we going?”
<I want to show you something. Something important. This is a dream, so we can arrive anytime we like. But first, why don’t we just sit and watch the rest of your solar system pass by.>
Once again Dee had the uncomfortable feeling that James was giving her a going away present, and not the type you give when you are planning to come back and visit. But the scene in front of her was so breathtaking, so magical, that once again she didn’t want to spoil the moment. If what she feared was true she would have the rest of her life to regret it. No point in starting early.
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
“Would you look at that?!”
“What is that?”
“I have no idea.”
Yvonne stood under the hot operating room lights, sweating profusely and hoping desperately that she wouldn’t be sick. She hadn’t had anything to eat for hours, so the most that she would probably do was dry heave. But even that would be inconvenient. Imagine what the doctors would say if she started retching all over their alien autopsy.
She had returned to the isolated room where the bodies were kept only to have the awaited doctors burst in minutes later, breathless and staring. She had never seen these two before, and they didn’t bother to introduce themselves. They spent a full two minutes circling the two bodies silently while she quietly panicked in the background. She had hoped they would be delayed, but no such luck. Urza’s time was running out.
After the doctors had recovered their powers of speech, events had proceeded with what could only be termed unholy speed. Yvonne could understand the scientific urge to study these beings. She had no real objection to an autopsy on the dead creature—it had been dead for some time, had been certified dead by its own people. But there was something faintly uncivilized about being in such a rush to cut something—someone—open. Less than thirty minutes after their arrival, the creature had been photographed, weighed, measured, and split stem to stern.
Yvonne grimaced behind her mask as one of the doctors handed her yet another unidentifiable organ to place on the scale. Convincing them to take this particular creature first had not been a problem; they were so eager to begin, they didn’t much care which they started with. Urza’s body was in the next room, awaiting a similar fate. To all appearances he looked dead; if he wasn’t yet, he certainly would be soon. With any luck this first autopsy would take a good long while.
She set the organ in the pan and looked up at the scale. Her vision blurred for a moment, and she closed her eyes to clear it. God, she was tired. She had tried to slip away after the bodies were moved, but they wouldn’t let her leave. They didn’t want to involve anyone else that they would later need to worry would talk. No doubt she would be severely debriefed after all of this was over and threatened six ways to Sunday. They needn’t worry; the only parts she wanted to talk about were the parts she could never tell.
Sixty-eight grams. She stripped off her alien blood-covered glove and reached for a pencil to record the weight.
“What is that?” Pause. “Is that what I think it is?”
Yvonne turned to see both doctors hunched over the creature’s skull, which had been exposed and opened with little trouble as the bones appeared much softer than human bones. Maybe that’s how they manage to change their shapes, she thought, privately noting that that was one piece of information she was going to keep to herself. One among many.
“Good God,” one of the doctors whispered. He looked up at the other doctor, whose eyes were wide with shock. “Do you realize what this means?”
Yvonne retrieved the unknown organ from the scale pan and took a step closer to see what they were looking at. They were dissecting the creature’s brain—what could they have found that would upset them so much?
Suddenly, as if someone tripped a switch, the organ she was holding crumbled to a fine dust, filtering through her fingers to the floor. Simultaneously, the creature’s entire body noiselessly crumbled to a similar pile of dust on the operating table.
One could have heard a pin drop in the ensuing silence.
******************************************************
Dee continued staring out the viewport, mesmerized. They had passed the outer edges of her solar system, dashing by tiny Pluto, and then things had begun moving faster; James had obviously sped up the dream. Straight ahead was a cluster of stars shaped like the letter “V”. The cluster rapidly became larger and larger until it was clear they were heading for the bottom star in the point of the “V”. As they came closer, she saw planets orbiting the star, five of them. They were headed for the fifth one, a reddish/orange planet, similar to Mars in color but covered in swirling red clouds.
“Is that……is that your………?”
<Home. Yes,> James said quietly. <That is Antar.>
Antar. “Can we……go down there?” she asked hopefully. She had hoped that James would one day be willing to talk about his own world. Now she might actually get to see it.
<Of course.>
The ship dissolved around her, and she found herself standing outdoors on a hilltop under a strange, reddish sky. Antar’s sun was red and smaller than Earth’s, and its three moons glowed orange. The clouds had a pink tint. Dee turned around slowly, taking in the only slightly odd-looking plants, the large body of what appeared to be water at the bottom of the hill, and the soft stuff covering the ground; not grass, but something more like moss.
“The sun is so red,” she said wonderingly. “Why?”
“As stars—suns—grow older, they change color from yellow to red,” James explained. “Our sun is older than yours, so it is red; your Earth still has a younger, more yellowish sun.”
“Where are we?”
<This is Dimaras Rock, a favorite place with the royal family. Vilandra and I came here often.>
“Vilandra?”
<The Princess. My Ward.>
Vilandra. Another alien name to add to the list, and a pretty one at that.
<I had hoped to see it again someday, but……> James’s voice trailed off wistfully, and he fell silent, staring off into space.
Dee suddenly felt very heavy, and sat down on the ground. Something terrible had happened, she was certain of that now. She had thought that his coming to her was good news, but…….
“Why did you bring me here?” she asked in a brittle voice. “You brought me here to say goodbye, didn’t you?” A tear fought its way past her scrunched up eyes, and she swiped at it furiously. She was not going to cry like a weepy girl. She was not.
Two feet planted themselves in front of her. Not small, gray alien feet, but big human feet in work boots. She looked up to find James in human form, wearing the clothes he had worn on the Fourth of July. He sat down in front of her and took her hands in his.
“I wanted you to know that whatever happens, our mission was still a success,” he said earnestly in physical speech. “And we have you to thank for that. Even though things did not go as planned, we still managed to hide most of what we needed to. Sometime within your lifetime our Wards will emerge and return here to take back what was theirs. They will be able to accomplish that because of your kindness and friendship. Antar owes you a great debt.”
“I don’t get it,” Dee said, grateful for something else to think about besides the fact that James was probably dying. “I saw the babies in those sacs. So they’re going to come out when they’re all grown up? But James……what’s going to happen when people see them walking around looking like….well…..like you usually do? Don’t you think people will notice?”
“No,” James answered with certainty. “They are hybrids—half human, half Antarian. They will have human form, so they will look like you. They will return home shortly after they emerge, but I hope you will get the chance to meet them. And if you do…” He hesitated. “If you do meet Vilandra, please tell her that I loved her, and I’m sorry I will not be there for her when she returns.”
A pesky tear spilled down her cheek, and James wiped it away with his hand. “I brought you here to show you just a little of what we fight for. Antar is a beautiful place. It’s worth fighting for…..and worth dying for.”
Dee looked down at their entwined hands, afraid that if she raised her head, she would burst into tears. It was a huge struggle to keep her voice steady.
“They didn’t fix you, did they?”
“No.”
There. It was official now. “And Valeris?”
“He is dead.”
Dee scrambled to her feet and walked away, hugging herself fiercely. Now she was going to cry, and she hated crying in front of people. “It’s not fair!” she wailed, sounding exactly like the eight year-old she was. “After everything we went through, it’s just not fair!”
“Life is not fair,” James said behind her, in the tone of one who knows this for a fact. “It simply….is.”
Dee stood for a long time, looking down at the alien lake and thinking. Thinking about close they had come to missing the Army’s arrival, and how Valeris had been fine when she had left him—tired, perhaps, but fine. And that meant her own people had killed him, the very people she had hoped would be better than that. Not that any of that mattered now.
After a furious five minutes spent wrestling with her emotions, Dee turned around to face James, who was patiently waiting behind her. “How long do you have?”
“Not long.”
Dee looked up at the reddish Antarian sky. She didn’t want to spend the little time they had being angry; she would have lots of time to be angry later. But how do you spend your time when you know for certain that you don’t have much time left? James had already answered that question—he had come home, bringing the only friend he’d made on Earth. But what about her? What would she choose to do with a friend she would shortly never see again?
Finally, she reached a decision. “How would I add something to this dream?”
“Just by thinking it. It is your dream. You can take us from this place if you wish.”
“I do not wish,” she said firmly, sitting down on the ground and patting the seat beside her. “Do me a favor—change into your real form.”
“Don’t you prefer me in human form?”
“Not here. It doesn’t look right. If you only have a little while left, you should be able to spend it in your own form—Urza.”
It was the first time she had used his real name, and he smiled. A moment later, Urza sat beside her, small and gray. And looked up in surprise, as a crackling sound split the air and a burst of color bloomed in the sky.
Fireworks. Dee smiled in satisfaction as they burst, one after another, against the backdrop of that reddish sky. Now she saw why James—Urza—had been so enchanted with color. It wasn’t that Antar didn’t have colors. It just didn’t have the variety of colors that Earth had.
“Why don’t we just sit here and watch the fireworks. Like we did before,” she said.
He nodded, and they both sat in silence on an Antarian rock near an Antarian lake, watching Earth fireworks burst in an Antarian sky. The best of both worlds.
Dee knew when Urza disappeared. She could feel his absence, but she didn’t turn her head to look. Instead she continued staring at the fireworks bursting, putting off for as long as possible the moment when she had to face the fact that he was gone.
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
“What the……….!”
“Incredible!”
Yvonne stood stricken, looking in confusion from the dust at her feet, to the dust on the table, to the dust all around the room. Everything—every organ, blood sample, tissue sample, everything—had turned to dust, a fine, gray dust that seemed to hang in the air, laughing at them.
“What happened?” one of the doctors was saying in consternation.
“It must be a way to keep them from being studied,” said the other with obvious admiration. “After a certain period of time, they basically self-destruct.”
“Well, it certainly worked,” grumbled the first, brushing the fine powder from his hands. “Clean this up,” he barked at Yvonne, who jumped. “And get the other body in here.”
“Shouldn’t we wait until all of this is cleaned?” asked the other doctor doubtfully, looking at the piles of dust in pans and test tubes. “We don’t want to contaminate the second body with the first.”
“We also don’t want the other one to disintegrate like this one just did,” argued the first doctor. “We have no way of knowing when that will happen. We can’t afford to wait. You gather this up,” he said to Yvonne. “We’ll get started on the other body. Hurry up.”
Yvonne’s hands shook as she donned rubber gloves and started sweeping and dumping the various piles of dust into a single container. She tried not to watch as the two doctor’s maneuvered Urza’s tiny body onto the nearby operating table. I’m sorry, she whispered silently as the body went by. I couldn’t save you, and I couldn’t keep you safe until the others could.
She continued sweeping and gathering while the two doctors hastily photographed, weighed, and measured the body. Maybe they would wait until she was finished so she could assist. Doctors never liked to do anything for themselves that a nurse was supposed to do. Perhaps if she just dragged everything out a little longer, just a little longer……..
“In the interest of speed, I’ll assist,” came a voice behind her.
Yvonne screwed her eyes shut as tears spilled over onto her mask.
“Scalpel.”
Part 50
PART FIFTY
July 8, 1947, 7:30 a.m.
Proctor residence
“Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” David Proctor asked his wife solicitously as he paused by the front door on his way to work. “I can stay home another day.”
“Don’t be silly,” Emily responded, pulling her robe closer around her even though it was already seventy-eight degrees and muggy. “We’ll be fine. They’re gone, David. It’s over.”
Don’t bet on it, David thought. The last time he thought it was over, it hadn’t been. Still, the aliens had been gone the entire night. Perhaps they had found what they were looking for and gone into their promised hiding. Or been captured. Either way, there was nothing they could do for them now.
David looked over at Mac’s house. It was quiet in the early summer morning, and Mac’s truck was still parked in the driveway. Mac wasn’t back yet, and that gave David pause. There had been nothing on the radio about spaceships or Russians, but David still had the uneasy feeling the other shoe was about to drop.
But—fretting over it wouldn’t make it drop faster, and he didn’t want it to anyway. David kissed his wife’s forehead and pulled her into a hug. “If anything else happens, you call me, you hear?”
“I hear,” she said softly, returning the embrace. “But I don’t see what’s going to happen. Besides, you know me—if anyone tries to mess with my family, I’ll pound’em into the ground.”
She was smiling, but David knew just how sincerely she meant that. Even the fabled maternal instincts of the mother bear didn’t hold a candle to Emily with her dander up. And he wasn’t the only one who had noticed.
“I never told you what Brivari said about you, did I?” he said in a teasing tone.
Emily’s eyes turned wary. “He said something about……me?”
“He did indeed,” David said, tucking his arm around her and ushering her out onto the front porch. “He told me to convey his thanks to my ‘mate’, and said you would make a ‘formidable Warder’.”
“What does that mean, exactly?” Emily asked, still wary.
David paused at the front porch steps. “Those people are guardians of some sort, Em. They apparently guard a Royal Family on their planet. Each of them is assigned to a member of the royal family, sort of like their own personal secret service agent. So I guess he meant you’d be good at his job.”
Emily looked uncertain as to just exactly how to take this information, and David wondered again what had passed between her and Brivari. “I noticed you took him some food yesterday. Did something happen between you?”
A look of embarrassment came over Emily’s face. “Well….I might have gotten a little….testy with him. Sort of. Once.”
David raised his eyebrows and smiled. This sounded good. “Testy?”
“Look, he wanted to wake up Dee, and there was no way I would let him do that,” Emily said in sudden exasperation. “I had offered him something to eat, and I guess he didn’t want to talk; he wanted her to translate for him. I just stopped him from waking her up, that’s all.”
“I see,” David said, pursing his lips. “So, you stopped him from waking up Dee, and that’s why he thinks you’d make a ‘formidable Warder’?”
Emily stuffed her hands in the pockets of her robe, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I might have mentioned—just in passing—that if he didn’t leave her alone, I’d…….well…….dump him on the front lawn and call the Army,” she finished, sounding only slightly abashed.
David burst out laughing, earning him a playful smack from his wife. “What?” Emily demanded.
“Oh, I wish I could have seen the expression on his face when you said that,” David said, chuckling. “I get the impression people don’t talk back to him much.”
“Their faces don’t have much in the way of ‘expression’,” Emily noted, “but at least he took me seriously. He left her alone.”
“Of course he took you seriously,” David replied, eyes twinkling. “He’s alien, not stupid.” He dodged another half-hearted swat. “Maybe we should send you back wherever they came from. You’d whip’em into shape.”
“Go to work before I decide I’m insulted,” Emily ordered, but she was smiling. “I’ll hold the fort against all enemies, foreign and domestic.”
“I’m sure you will,” David said sincerely. “Don’t I get a goodbye kiss?”
“Do you really think you deserve one after picking on me like that?” But she gave him one anyway, then turned and scooted back into the house, no doubt hoping no one had seen her in her bathrobe.
David walked to his car, still chuckling. What he wouldn’t have given to have seen that altercation. If it came to a showdown between his wife and the guardian of an alien king, he’d put his money on his wife in a heartbeat.
David slipped into the driver’s seat and shut the door. The last time he’d been in this car he’d been ferrying aliens and alien something-or-others out into the desert, and he looked around nervously, wondering if anything had been left behind. Nothing seemed amiss. He started the car and reached up to adjust the rear view mirror.
Now, that was odd.
David stared for a moment at the squad car clearly visible in his rear view mirror. It wasn’t one of George’s deputies; it was a Roswell car, just sitting there across the street. A lone deputy sat at the wheel. He looked like he was reading something.
David slowly turned around and looked at the squad car. The deputy didn’t look up from whatever he was doing. But what was he doing sitting here on a Corona side street at 7:30 on a Tuesday morning? And why a Roswell deputy? This was George’s jurisdiction. Did this have something to do with Mac? Or his family, perhaps? Was George so low on men that he was borrowing from Roswell?
For a moment, David seriously considered going over and asking the deputy point blank what he was doing there. Then he decided he was being paranoid. The deputy hadn’t come up to their house, hadn’t said word one to him or his family. They certainly weren’t doing anything illegal. Heck, they didn’t even have any aliens left to hide. Let him sit there if he wanted to.
David backed out of his driveway, studiously pretending he did not see the squad car even though he passed within feet of it. So he didn’t see the deputy’s eyes watch him as he pulled away, then swing sideways to cast an appraising glance at his house.
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
Yvonne threw herself into her car and slammed the door, hot tears welling in her eyes. That had been the most humiliating experience of her life. Make that the second most humiliating experience of her life. Although frankly it was hard to assign a value to either when both were running neck and neck.
Casting a wary eye around the deserted base parking lot, Yvonne put her head down on the steering wheel and finally released the tears that had threatened for hours. Up until now she had held it all in. Somehow, someway, she had managed to stay calm, focused, professional, and tear-free as she had watched—no, assisted—in cutting up a being who could have been saved. She had sat stoically through the first degrading debriefing, where not-so-veiled threats were issued if she ever so much as uttered a peep about what she’d seen last night. After that they had ordered her to get some sleep, which was downright impossible. But she had lain there anyway, wide awake and dry-eyed, refusing to let go, because she knew that doing so would be dangerous. If only they knew, she thought grimly. If only they knew how much I’ve seen. She was far more dangerous to them than they could ever imagine.
When morning came she had tried to see Private Spade. He was the only person she could safely talk to, the only one who would sympathize. But he wasn’t in the infirmary, and her attempts to locate him had proven unsuccessful. Something else to worry about.
So she had checked out a base car and headed for the door. She needed to get off the base, to clear her head, to think. But before she had walked twenty feet she had been stopped and ushered into a Captain Cavitt’s office. She remembered what Stephen—Private Spade—had said about Cavitt, and his description proved accurate. Cavitt eschewed the veiled threats for bald ones, making it quite clear what would happen to her if she opened her mouth. Yvonne had sat there, biting her tongue and nodding, wishing she could do to Cavitt what had been done to Urza the night before.
In the end he had let her go, and she had fled as though she were escaping a prison with no real idea of where she was going. Just away, that was all. She swiped at her eyes with her hands, certain that her make-up was a mess. She’d stop somewhere for breakfast, somewhere with a washroom where she could clean up. Still sniffling, she started the car and drove to the entrance, waiting for the guard to acknowledge her.
But the guard was otherwise engaged with a car on the opposite side trying to gain entry. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he was saying with exasperation, “but you can’t go in there. No one wants to talk to you.”
“How do you know no one wants to talk to me?” demanded the driver of the car, an assertive woman with beautifully coifed hair. “Why can’t they tell me that themselves?”
“There are no reporters allowed on base,” the guard ground out, obviously have trouble controlling his temper. Guard and reporter must have been at this for some time. “The few people authorized to speak with the press don’t want to speak to you. That’s final.”
“Why? They got somethin’ to hide?”
Do they ever, Yvonne thought. She sat in her car on the opposite side of the guard hut watching the altercation, and for just a moment, her eyes locked with that of the reporter.
Yvonne held the gaze for several seconds until the guard turned around. She held up her pass. “You can go,” the guard said without examining it further, and turned back to continue the argument with the reporter.
Yvonne threw the reporter one more look before driving off. She drove until she was just out of sight of the base, and then pulled off the road and waited. What am I doing? she thought fiercely. They would have her head for this if anyone found out. And she needed to be careful what she said—no one could know the extent of her involvement. But she had to talk to someone. They were going to deny everything, pretend this never happened. They claimed the American people weren’t ready to hear there was life on other planets. They might be right about that, but one thing Yvonne was sure of—keeping all of this a secret gave them the freedom to do anything they wanted without having to answer to anyone. No one should have that much freedom. A lack of checks and balances was always alluring to those with a lust for power, and there was never a shortage of people who fit that description.
A sound made her glance in the rear view mirror; a car had pulled up behind her. A moment later, the lady reporter climbed into Yvonne’s passenger seat and studied her carefully. “Sweetheart, you look like you just lost your best friend,” she said sincerely.
Feeling like an absolute idiot, Yvonne dissolved in tears. The reporter said nothing, merely produced a handkerchief and let her cry. When the sobs subsided a couple of minutes later, the reporters said, “What’s your name, dear?”
“Yvonne.”
“Well Yvonne, I’m Betty Osorio, Fort Worth Star Telegram. Are you sure you want to be seen in the company of a woman of such ill repute?” Betty smiled at her own joke, and Yvonne couldn’t help smiling in return. “You look like you need someone to talk to,” Betty commented seriously. Yvonne nodded.
“You’re not the only one,” Betty said, offering a second handkerchief. “Talked to someone else this morning who needs to spill, most likely about the same thing’s bothering you. Lucky for both of you I’m a great listener.”
Yvonne stared at her, uncertain of what to say or whether to say anything at all. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“Tell you what,” Betty was saying. “I’m meeting that someone else for breakfast. Why don’t you join us? You can just listen if you want to. I can’t make you say anything. Or threaten you if you do,” she added, with a knowing look.
Yvonne’s eyes widened. She knew. There was no telling how much she knew, but she definitely knew something. And if she already knew, why then, it wouldn’t be telling, would it?
“I’ll go hop back in my car, and you follow me,” Betty instructed, climbing out. “We’re heading for downtown Roswell. That should be far enough away to throw off Cavitt’s goons.” She winked at Yvonne and shut the door.
Yvonne watched Betty walk back to her car. So Captain Cavitt was threatening other people besides her? Well, of course he was. Because no one was watching. No one would know. Unless, of course, someone said something.
Betty’s car pulled away, heading south toward Roswell. Yvonne hesitated only a moment before starting her own car and following.
******************************************************
Proctor residence
Emily Proctor wearily climbed the stairs to the second floor. She really should stay up and get some work done, what with having been away and all, but she couldn’t help thinking how much she would dearly love to climb into bed and go back to sleep. She had been awakened several times last night for reasons that weren’t clear. Probably just paranoia from her exceedingly odd day yesterday.
She paused as she passed Dee’s bedroom door. Her daughter was sleeping peacefully, so peacefully that Emily decided to indulge herself and head back to bed. But as she walked toward her bedroom, a noise from the guest bedroom down the hall made her head that way. Reaching the doorway, she saw the source—the guest bedroom window was wide open, curtains blowing in the breeze.
Emily relaxed against the doorframe. That’s what she had kept hearing last night. This bedroom wasn’t used often, so she had no idea how the window had been opened, but no matter. Maybe Dee had been playing in here. She entered the room to close the window, and froze as she approached the neat twin bed in the middle of the room.
There was a hand on the floor, jutting out from the end of the bed. A human hand.
Emily stood stock still, accelerating from sleepy to hyper in three seconds flat. She waited several long, endless seconds, her heart pounding in her chest. The hand didn’t move. Its owner appeared to be unconscious or…….worse. Creeping slowly forward, she rounded the end of the bed.
Two men were sprawled on the floor. She didn’t recognize the owner of the hand. He was lying on his side, one arm flung out, with a nasty looking wound in his chest. The other man was slumped against the wall, his left hand cradling an amber colored rock. She recognized that one: Brivari
Emily turned and scooted out of the room, pausing at the end of the hallway to lean on the banister, breathing heavily. She had a sudden, irrational urge to run screaming out of the house, calling for the husband she had so cavalierly sent off to work with assurances that she could handle anything. One injured alien had been unsettling enough; now there were two. Did this mean the rescue mission had been successful? What on earth should she do with them? She couldn’t just call an ambulance. But she could call the Sheriff—according to David, George Wilcox had at least a working knowledge of what was going on. Or she could wake up Dee, who seemed to be the reigning human expert on all things alien.
Emily stood there for a good five minutes, regaining her composure and thinking. Finally she reached a decision. She would not call George—he knew even less than she did. And she would not disturb her daughter, who had already been through enough. I handled them myself yesterday, and I’ll handle them myself again, she thought, deliberately ignoring the fact that yesterday there had been only one of “them” to handle, and that one had been quite a handful all by himself.
Emily walked back to the guest bedroom, moving through sheer force of will. I can do this, she coaxed herself. Of course she could; she’d done worse. She had been the first to enter her brother-in-law’s apartment after he had killed himself, the only one besides the ambulance crew and the poor souls who’d had to clean up who knew the grisly extent of what they’d found there. She had lived through that, and she would live through this too. She entered the room quickly, before she had a chance to lose her nerve, and forced herself to rationally assess the situation at hand.
The bag containing the strange stones lay at Brivari’s side. Most likely he had been trying to heal the man on the floor when his strength had just given out. Emily knelt down and examined the chest wound on the injured man. The wound looked as though it had partially healed and he was breathing, but he still didn’t look good.
What to do? Should she attempt to finish what Brivari had started? Did it work on unconscious people? Brivari had been conscious when she had used the stone on him. Conscious and melting into many strange shapes. Emily uttered a silent thank you to any deity listening that this new alien wasn’t doing the same thing.
Deciding it was worth a try, Emily reached over the injured alien for one of the stones. Something flew up behind her and caught her around the throat. She scratched frantically at it with her fingers, trying to twist her head to see what held her. Brivari was still slumped against the wall unmoving, so it must be the other one—he was awake! That was his arm around her neck, his breath hissing in her ear. “Who are you?” a voice hissed, heavy with malice.
But his grip was weak, and Emily could feel him trembling. He wasn’t up to this. She struggled to remember which side his wound was on now that she was facing away from him, and decided it would be his left. Elbowing him hard in his left side, she was rewarded with release and a gasp of pain. She scrambled away and turned around, pressing her back up against the opposite wall and staring at her attacker, panting.
The alien was leaning on one elbow, clutching his side in obvious agony. But his eyes were open and gazing at her with palpable hatred. Why would he hate her? What had she done to him?
“Who are you?” he hissed again, wincing as the effort to speak cost him more pain.
“Who am I?” Emily said wildly. “Who the hell are you?”
“Am I your prisoner?”
“Pris……..what?” Emily said, flabbergasted. “No, you’re not my prisoner! What are you talking about?”
“Why did you attack me?”
All right. That did it. Now she was mad. Emily harkened back to her Irish ancestors, who tended to get mad long before they got scared. It was a useful trait in certain situations, and this was one of them. “Attack you? Excuse me? You’re the one who attacked me. And for no good reason, I might add. I was just trying to reach one of those stones to help you. Although at the moment, I can’t think why I would have wanted to do that,” she added darkly.
The alien’s expression changed at the mention of the stones. For the first time he seemed to take in his surroundings, looking around the room, eyes coming to rest on Brivari and the bag of stones on the floor beside him. His gaze dropped to his wound and then returned to her. “Where am I?” he asked sharply, although with somewhat less malice. “How did I get here?”
“You’re in my house,” Emily answered curtly, still flat against the wall, “and I have no idea how you got here. Ask him,” she said, indicating Brivari. “He was here yesterday recuperating from his injuries. That’s probably why he brought you here.”
“Yesterday?” The alien slumped back down on the floor. “So that’s where he was. All that time I spent looking for him…..” Then it must have suddenly occurred to him that she had never answered his initial question, and he pushed himself up on one elbow and repeated it. “Who are you?”
Emily opened her mouth to announce that he was in her house, so he could damned well go first with the introductions. But the words froze in her throat when she looked past him to the doorway where a small figure was standing. The alien followed her gaze and whipped his head around to see her daughter, her small, vulnerable daughter standing in the doorway.
Run! Emily thought, gesturing frantically. But Dee ignored her, walking right into the room and up to the prone alien. Kneeling down beside him, she looked him directly in the eyes without so much as a shred of fear.
“She’s my mother.”
July 8, 1947, 7:30 a.m.
Proctor residence
“Are you sure you’re going to be all right?” David Proctor asked his wife solicitously as he paused by the front door on his way to work. “I can stay home another day.”
“Don’t be silly,” Emily responded, pulling her robe closer around her even though it was already seventy-eight degrees and muggy. “We’ll be fine. They’re gone, David. It’s over.”
Don’t bet on it, David thought. The last time he thought it was over, it hadn’t been. Still, the aliens had been gone the entire night. Perhaps they had found what they were looking for and gone into their promised hiding. Or been captured. Either way, there was nothing they could do for them now.
David looked over at Mac’s house. It was quiet in the early summer morning, and Mac’s truck was still parked in the driveway. Mac wasn’t back yet, and that gave David pause. There had been nothing on the radio about spaceships or Russians, but David still had the uneasy feeling the other shoe was about to drop.
But—fretting over it wouldn’t make it drop faster, and he didn’t want it to anyway. David kissed his wife’s forehead and pulled her into a hug. “If anything else happens, you call me, you hear?”
“I hear,” she said softly, returning the embrace. “But I don’t see what’s going to happen. Besides, you know me—if anyone tries to mess with my family, I’ll pound’em into the ground.”
She was smiling, but David knew just how sincerely she meant that. Even the fabled maternal instincts of the mother bear didn’t hold a candle to Emily with her dander up. And he wasn’t the only one who had noticed.
“I never told you what Brivari said about you, did I?” he said in a teasing tone.
Emily’s eyes turned wary. “He said something about……me?”
“He did indeed,” David said, tucking his arm around her and ushering her out onto the front porch. “He told me to convey his thanks to my ‘mate’, and said you would make a ‘formidable Warder’.”
“What does that mean, exactly?” Emily asked, still wary.
David paused at the front porch steps. “Those people are guardians of some sort, Em. They apparently guard a Royal Family on their planet. Each of them is assigned to a member of the royal family, sort of like their own personal secret service agent. So I guess he meant you’d be good at his job.”
Emily looked uncertain as to just exactly how to take this information, and David wondered again what had passed between her and Brivari. “I noticed you took him some food yesterday. Did something happen between you?”
A look of embarrassment came over Emily’s face. “Well….I might have gotten a little….testy with him. Sort of. Once.”
David raised his eyebrows and smiled. This sounded good. “Testy?”
“Look, he wanted to wake up Dee, and there was no way I would let him do that,” Emily said in sudden exasperation. “I had offered him something to eat, and I guess he didn’t want to talk; he wanted her to translate for him. I just stopped him from waking her up, that’s all.”
“I see,” David said, pursing his lips. “So, you stopped him from waking up Dee, and that’s why he thinks you’d make a ‘formidable Warder’?”
Emily stuffed her hands in the pockets of her robe, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “I might have mentioned—just in passing—that if he didn’t leave her alone, I’d…….well…….dump him on the front lawn and call the Army,” she finished, sounding only slightly abashed.
David burst out laughing, earning him a playful smack from his wife. “What?” Emily demanded.
“Oh, I wish I could have seen the expression on his face when you said that,” David said, chuckling. “I get the impression people don’t talk back to him much.”
“Their faces don’t have much in the way of ‘expression’,” Emily noted, “but at least he took me seriously. He left her alone.”
“Of course he took you seriously,” David replied, eyes twinkling. “He’s alien, not stupid.” He dodged another half-hearted swat. “Maybe we should send you back wherever they came from. You’d whip’em into shape.”
“Go to work before I decide I’m insulted,” Emily ordered, but she was smiling. “I’ll hold the fort against all enemies, foreign and domestic.”
“I’m sure you will,” David said sincerely. “Don’t I get a goodbye kiss?”
“Do you really think you deserve one after picking on me like that?” But she gave him one anyway, then turned and scooted back into the house, no doubt hoping no one had seen her in her bathrobe.
David walked to his car, still chuckling. What he wouldn’t have given to have seen that altercation. If it came to a showdown between his wife and the guardian of an alien king, he’d put his money on his wife in a heartbeat.
David slipped into the driver’s seat and shut the door. The last time he’d been in this car he’d been ferrying aliens and alien something-or-others out into the desert, and he looked around nervously, wondering if anything had been left behind. Nothing seemed amiss. He started the car and reached up to adjust the rear view mirror.
Now, that was odd.
David stared for a moment at the squad car clearly visible in his rear view mirror. It wasn’t one of George’s deputies; it was a Roswell car, just sitting there across the street. A lone deputy sat at the wheel. He looked like he was reading something.
David slowly turned around and looked at the squad car. The deputy didn’t look up from whatever he was doing. But what was he doing sitting here on a Corona side street at 7:30 on a Tuesday morning? And why a Roswell deputy? This was George’s jurisdiction. Did this have something to do with Mac? Or his family, perhaps? Was George so low on men that he was borrowing from Roswell?
For a moment, David seriously considered going over and asking the deputy point blank what he was doing there. Then he decided he was being paranoid. The deputy hadn’t come up to their house, hadn’t said word one to him or his family. They certainly weren’t doing anything illegal. Heck, they didn’t even have any aliens left to hide. Let him sit there if he wanted to.
David backed out of his driveway, studiously pretending he did not see the squad car even though he passed within feet of it. So he didn’t see the deputy’s eyes watch him as he pulled away, then swing sideways to cast an appraising glance at his house.
******************************************************
Eagle Rock Military Base
Yvonne threw herself into her car and slammed the door, hot tears welling in her eyes. That had been the most humiliating experience of her life. Make that the second most humiliating experience of her life. Although frankly it was hard to assign a value to either when both were running neck and neck.
Casting a wary eye around the deserted base parking lot, Yvonne put her head down on the steering wheel and finally released the tears that had threatened for hours. Up until now she had held it all in. Somehow, someway, she had managed to stay calm, focused, professional, and tear-free as she had watched—no, assisted—in cutting up a being who could have been saved. She had sat stoically through the first degrading debriefing, where not-so-veiled threats were issued if she ever so much as uttered a peep about what she’d seen last night. After that they had ordered her to get some sleep, which was downright impossible. But she had lain there anyway, wide awake and dry-eyed, refusing to let go, because she knew that doing so would be dangerous. If only they knew, she thought grimly. If only they knew how much I’ve seen. She was far more dangerous to them than they could ever imagine.
When morning came she had tried to see Private Spade. He was the only person she could safely talk to, the only one who would sympathize. But he wasn’t in the infirmary, and her attempts to locate him had proven unsuccessful. Something else to worry about.
So she had checked out a base car and headed for the door. She needed to get off the base, to clear her head, to think. But before she had walked twenty feet she had been stopped and ushered into a Captain Cavitt’s office. She remembered what Stephen—Private Spade—had said about Cavitt, and his description proved accurate. Cavitt eschewed the veiled threats for bald ones, making it quite clear what would happen to her if she opened her mouth. Yvonne had sat there, biting her tongue and nodding, wishing she could do to Cavitt what had been done to Urza the night before.
In the end he had let her go, and she had fled as though she were escaping a prison with no real idea of where she was going. Just away, that was all. She swiped at her eyes with her hands, certain that her make-up was a mess. She’d stop somewhere for breakfast, somewhere with a washroom where she could clean up. Still sniffling, she started the car and drove to the entrance, waiting for the guard to acknowledge her.
But the guard was otherwise engaged with a car on the opposite side trying to gain entry. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he was saying with exasperation, “but you can’t go in there. No one wants to talk to you.”
“How do you know no one wants to talk to me?” demanded the driver of the car, an assertive woman with beautifully coifed hair. “Why can’t they tell me that themselves?”
“There are no reporters allowed on base,” the guard ground out, obviously have trouble controlling his temper. Guard and reporter must have been at this for some time. “The few people authorized to speak with the press don’t want to speak to you. That’s final.”
“Why? They got somethin’ to hide?”
Do they ever, Yvonne thought. She sat in her car on the opposite side of the guard hut watching the altercation, and for just a moment, her eyes locked with that of the reporter.
Yvonne held the gaze for several seconds until the guard turned around. She held up her pass. “You can go,” the guard said without examining it further, and turned back to continue the argument with the reporter.
Yvonne threw the reporter one more look before driving off. She drove until she was just out of sight of the base, and then pulled off the road and waited. What am I doing? she thought fiercely. They would have her head for this if anyone found out. And she needed to be careful what she said—no one could know the extent of her involvement. But she had to talk to someone. They were going to deny everything, pretend this never happened. They claimed the American people weren’t ready to hear there was life on other planets. They might be right about that, but one thing Yvonne was sure of—keeping all of this a secret gave them the freedom to do anything they wanted without having to answer to anyone. No one should have that much freedom. A lack of checks and balances was always alluring to those with a lust for power, and there was never a shortage of people who fit that description.
A sound made her glance in the rear view mirror; a car had pulled up behind her. A moment later, the lady reporter climbed into Yvonne’s passenger seat and studied her carefully. “Sweetheart, you look like you just lost your best friend,” she said sincerely.
Feeling like an absolute idiot, Yvonne dissolved in tears. The reporter said nothing, merely produced a handkerchief and let her cry. When the sobs subsided a couple of minutes later, the reporters said, “What’s your name, dear?”
“Yvonne.”
“Well Yvonne, I’m Betty Osorio, Fort Worth Star Telegram. Are you sure you want to be seen in the company of a woman of such ill repute?” Betty smiled at her own joke, and Yvonne couldn’t help smiling in return. “You look like you need someone to talk to,” Betty commented seriously. Yvonne nodded.
“You’re not the only one,” Betty said, offering a second handkerchief. “Talked to someone else this morning who needs to spill, most likely about the same thing’s bothering you. Lucky for both of you I’m a great listener.”
Yvonne stared at her, uncertain of what to say or whether to say anything at all. Maybe this was a bad idea.
“Tell you what,” Betty was saying. “I’m meeting that someone else for breakfast. Why don’t you join us? You can just listen if you want to. I can’t make you say anything. Or threaten you if you do,” she added, with a knowing look.
Yvonne’s eyes widened. She knew. There was no telling how much she knew, but she definitely knew something. And if she already knew, why then, it wouldn’t be telling, would it?
“I’ll go hop back in my car, and you follow me,” Betty instructed, climbing out. “We’re heading for downtown Roswell. That should be far enough away to throw off Cavitt’s goons.” She winked at Yvonne and shut the door.
Yvonne watched Betty walk back to her car. So Captain Cavitt was threatening other people besides her? Well, of course he was. Because no one was watching. No one would know. Unless, of course, someone said something.
Betty’s car pulled away, heading south toward Roswell. Yvonne hesitated only a moment before starting her own car and following.
******************************************************
Proctor residence
Emily Proctor wearily climbed the stairs to the second floor. She really should stay up and get some work done, what with having been away and all, but she couldn’t help thinking how much she would dearly love to climb into bed and go back to sleep. She had been awakened several times last night for reasons that weren’t clear. Probably just paranoia from her exceedingly odd day yesterday.
She paused as she passed Dee’s bedroom door. Her daughter was sleeping peacefully, so peacefully that Emily decided to indulge herself and head back to bed. But as she walked toward her bedroom, a noise from the guest bedroom down the hall made her head that way. Reaching the doorway, she saw the source—the guest bedroom window was wide open, curtains blowing in the breeze.
Emily relaxed against the doorframe. That’s what she had kept hearing last night. This bedroom wasn’t used often, so she had no idea how the window had been opened, but no matter. Maybe Dee had been playing in here. She entered the room to close the window, and froze as she approached the neat twin bed in the middle of the room.
There was a hand on the floor, jutting out from the end of the bed. A human hand.
Emily stood stock still, accelerating from sleepy to hyper in three seconds flat. She waited several long, endless seconds, her heart pounding in her chest. The hand didn’t move. Its owner appeared to be unconscious or…….worse. Creeping slowly forward, she rounded the end of the bed.
Two men were sprawled on the floor. She didn’t recognize the owner of the hand. He was lying on his side, one arm flung out, with a nasty looking wound in his chest. The other man was slumped against the wall, his left hand cradling an amber colored rock. She recognized that one: Brivari
Emily turned and scooted out of the room, pausing at the end of the hallway to lean on the banister, breathing heavily. She had a sudden, irrational urge to run screaming out of the house, calling for the husband she had so cavalierly sent off to work with assurances that she could handle anything. One injured alien had been unsettling enough; now there were two. Did this mean the rescue mission had been successful? What on earth should she do with them? She couldn’t just call an ambulance. But she could call the Sheriff—according to David, George Wilcox had at least a working knowledge of what was going on. Or she could wake up Dee, who seemed to be the reigning human expert on all things alien.
Emily stood there for a good five minutes, regaining her composure and thinking. Finally she reached a decision. She would not call George—he knew even less than she did. And she would not disturb her daughter, who had already been through enough. I handled them myself yesterday, and I’ll handle them myself again, she thought, deliberately ignoring the fact that yesterday there had been only one of “them” to handle, and that one had been quite a handful all by himself.
Emily walked back to the guest bedroom, moving through sheer force of will. I can do this, she coaxed herself. Of course she could; she’d done worse. She had been the first to enter her brother-in-law’s apartment after he had killed himself, the only one besides the ambulance crew and the poor souls who’d had to clean up who knew the grisly extent of what they’d found there. She had lived through that, and she would live through this too. She entered the room quickly, before she had a chance to lose her nerve, and forced herself to rationally assess the situation at hand.
The bag containing the strange stones lay at Brivari’s side. Most likely he had been trying to heal the man on the floor when his strength had just given out. Emily knelt down and examined the chest wound on the injured man. The wound looked as though it had partially healed and he was breathing, but he still didn’t look good.
What to do? Should she attempt to finish what Brivari had started? Did it work on unconscious people? Brivari had been conscious when she had used the stone on him. Conscious and melting into many strange shapes. Emily uttered a silent thank you to any deity listening that this new alien wasn’t doing the same thing.
Deciding it was worth a try, Emily reached over the injured alien for one of the stones. Something flew up behind her and caught her around the throat. She scratched frantically at it with her fingers, trying to twist her head to see what held her. Brivari was still slumped against the wall unmoving, so it must be the other one—he was awake! That was his arm around her neck, his breath hissing in her ear. “Who are you?” a voice hissed, heavy with malice.
But his grip was weak, and Emily could feel him trembling. He wasn’t up to this. She struggled to remember which side his wound was on now that she was facing away from him, and decided it would be his left. Elbowing him hard in his left side, she was rewarded with release and a gasp of pain. She scrambled away and turned around, pressing her back up against the opposite wall and staring at her attacker, panting.
The alien was leaning on one elbow, clutching his side in obvious agony. But his eyes were open and gazing at her with palpable hatred. Why would he hate her? What had she done to him?
“Who are you?” he hissed again, wincing as the effort to speak cost him more pain.
“Who am I?” Emily said wildly. “Who the hell are you?”
“Am I your prisoner?”
“Pris……..what?” Emily said, flabbergasted. “No, you’re not my prisoner! What are you talking about?”
“Why did you attack me?”
All right. That did it. Now she was mad. Emily harkened back to her Irish ancestors, who tended to get mad long before they got scared. It was a useful trait in certain situations, and this was one of them. “Attack you? Excuse me? You’re the one who attacked me. And for no good reason, I might add. I was just trying to reach one of those stones to help you. Although at the moment, I can’t think why I would have wanted to do that,” she added darkly.
The alien’s expression changed at the mention of the stones. For the first time he seemed to take in his surroundings, looking around the room, eyes coming to rest on Brivari and the bag of stones on the floor beside him. His gaze dropped to his wound and then returned to her. “Where am I?” he asked sharply, although with somewhat less malice. “How did I get here?”
“You’re in my house,” Emily answered curtly, still flat against the wall, “and I have no idea how you got here. Ask him,” she said, indicating Brivari. “He was here yesterday recuperating from his injuries. That’s probably why he brought you here.”
“Yesterday?” The alien slumped back down on the floor. “So that’s where he was. All that time I spent looking for him…..” Then it must have suddenly occurred to him that she had never answered his initial question, and he pushed himself up on one elbow and repeated it. “Who are you?”
Emily opened her mouth to announce that he was in her house, so he could damned well go first with the introductions. But the words froze in her throat when she looked past him to the doorway where a small figure was standing. The alien followed her gaze and whipped his head around to see her daughter, her small, vulnerable daughter standing in the doorway.
Run! Emily thought, gesturing frantically. But Dee ignored her, walking right into the room and up to the prone alien. Kneeling down beside him, she looked him directly in the eyes without so much as a shred of fear.
“She’s my mother.”