Roswell Fanatics

Title: Bureaucracy (A short story)
by Greywolf
Disclaimer: I do not own Roswell or any of its characters
Summary: Nasedo's attempt to take over the special unit failed, and the government struck, leaving the podsters separated from their significant others. But can love triumph over the federal bureaucracy? Well, maybe.... Better read on and see.
Rating: Teen
This is Canon/Conventional, in that it departs from the storyline after the escape from the White Room, although this is mostly about Liz, with a very little bit of Max at the very end.

Prologue


One must need to be strong, else one will never become strong. – said the philosopher Nietzsche.

It was three days after the escape from the White Room, less than 36 hours after Nasedo’s attempt to take over the Special Unit was foiled. After a series of intrusions into the FBI building by armed and often irrational people, surreptitiously x-raying people for weapons only made sense. In his persona as ‘Pierce’ those who monitored the new screening x-ray machine really weren’t surprised that he was carrying his service weapon or even his backup pistol in the ankle holster. They did find his total lack of a skeleton somewhat more troubling however. In the ensuing brief but intense firefight, Nasedo was killed for the final time.

It took another 33 hours to get the FBI assault teams into position without attracting the attention of the aliens, but they were ultimately very successful. The assault teams swept in to the Evans, Valenti, and Guerin residences simultaneously at 3AM. The night vision goggles gave the assault teams a significant advantage, and in fact all but Michael Guerin were either tasered or tranquilized in their sleep before they could mount any effective resistance, and that included friends and family who sought to come to their aid. By 4AM it was all over, with no trace of any of the podlings – almost as if the four had never existed. But the four HAD existed, and for those who had cared for them, their passing did not go unnoticed – certainly not by Liz, Maria, Alex, or Kyle.

The loss of the pod people was the end of childhood for the four friends left behind. They bonded together in common grief and sorrow – not sexually, although many of their classmates believed they had – but emotionally in a common determination to find their missing loved ones if they could or failing that – to exact revenge against those who had harmed their loved ones. No more the idle pleasures of teenage life, the four now had a mission. Each had their skills they shared with the group – Maria, her assertiveness – Liz, her academic prowess – Alex, his computer skills – Kyle, his physical training and marksmanship ability. When they were not training or researching, they worked – long hours at whatever jobs were available, depriving themselves of the little luxuries of the teenager to pool and save their resources for future need.

All four had changed, but none more so than Liz Parker. She became obsessed with her studies, her physical training, but most of all with her research –research in libraries – research on the internet – trying to discover a way to find where Max and the others had been taken. She became smarter – stronger – a harder worker than ever before, struggling to find a way to recover what might have been.


Ultimately, Liz graduated valedictorian of her class, Alex only slightly behind her with Maria and Kyle also in the top ten. Despite their parents wishes, all four graduates refused to go on to college, stating they needed a year to ‘find themselves.’ Of course, that was a lie. What they really were trying to find were Max, Isabel, Michael, and Tess. The break finally came on a trip to Sandia Labs near Albuquerque. Despite the lab’s mission of nuclear security, it’s security lapses were near legendary. With Maria distracting a guard and Kyle distracting a secretary, Liz and Alex were able to gain access to a lab computer. Not one with nuclear secrets, merely one that contained the entire federal supply system. Liz and Alex had been hoping for this for almost two years.

There was certain equipment, there were certain designer biochemical reagents that were used only for molecular biology and gene analysis. If the aliens were still alive, Liz had little doubt that studies of their alien DNA would be continuing. In a federal budget of nearly three trillion dollars, finding where this specific equipment and reagents were being used was the only way Liz could think of to find their missing alien friends. It was a long shot but it gave four results – four places in four different states where the federal government was sending this type of equipment and chemicals – places that did NOT appear to correspond to known laboratories. Three of the places were Department of Agriculture laboratories that were likely doing research in genetically modified plants. She sent Maria, Alex, and Kyle to check out each of them. The final facility was operated by the department of the interior, inside the huge Cabeza Prieta National Wildlife Area in Arizona. THAT one, she planned on checking out personally.


It was early morning -- still dark, as Liz walked through the Sonoran Desert of Arizona. The Cabeza Prieta, at 860,000 acres is the third largest national wildlife refuge in the lower 48 states. It is the size of Rhode Island, bounded on the north by bombing ranges used by Luke Air Force Base, bounded on the East by bombing ranges used by the Marine Corps Air Station at Yuma, and bounded on the South by a 56-mile shared border with Sonora Mexico, it is an isolated and inhospitable place. It had, essentially, one road through at, and that road little more than a four wheel drive trail, sometimes impassible after a desert thunderstorm. But it was acre after acre of government land where one could hide almost anything from the public if one wanted to, and somewhere hidden within it she believed there was a sophisticated molecular biology laboratory, and Liz hoped she knew where.

Alex had helped her with the hacking. The photo database was stored in China. If they could have spared the money, they could have simply bought the information, but their funds were limited. The resolution of the Chinese reconnaissance satellites was not nearly as good as that of the NSA satellites, but their databases were much less heavily secured. She had poured over the downloaded pictures for days before finally detecting the small dirt road leading from the main US Wildlife Service base camp. It had been marked on maps as a service road, and perhaps that is what it had been, up until two years ago. But now the road continued – continued away from the area where the public was given access. The road continued almost forty miles to what the satellite pictures showed to be a small facility – from the photos it might almost have been a tourist camp – behind one of the seven mountain ranges that ran through the Cabeza Pieta. Except Wilderness Areas do not allow tourist camps. Whatever it was, it was a government facility – a government facility that didn’t appear on the map – a tourist facility that shouldn’t be there.

The old black jeep – borrowed from Diane Evans – was hidden in a small arroyo just off the “official” road, and for the last six hours she had been hiking through the Sonoran desert to get to the hidden site. Liz had changed greatly over the last two and a half years – perhaps even she didn’t realize how much she had changed. She had once been the ‘perfect Miss Parker,’ and believed that somehow by pleasing those who ran the schools and the government she could assure her own happiness, but that dream had died years ago in the betrayal of that 3AM raid where her own government had stolen from her what should have been hers.

The old Liz Parker would not have been capable of making a 20 mile forced march through the Sonoran Desert – of living for days off the food and water she was carrying on her own back – of camouflaging herself to observe the camp from an adjoining ridgeline – she had already selected her observation site from the topographical map – and the old Liz Parker wouldn’t be carrying the Gerber survival knife strapped to her left hip, the pack with camouflage gear and field rations, or the nine liter camelback reservoir under it. Liz turned her head to find the nipple of the water reservoir and took a quick sip. She needed to go easy on her limited water supply. The sun would soon be overhead, and the temperatures would rise by late afternoon to as much as 120 degrees. By then she wanted to be under cover – sitting somewhere in the shade – waiting until nightfall when she could get back to the Jeep. This wasn’t a rescue, even in the unlikely event that this really was the place the aliens were being held. It was just a reconnaissance. If the four were really here, it would take everyone – Maria, Kyle, Alex – to plan and execute some kind of rescue. ‘Your mission today, Liz,’ she told herself, ‘ is to get in – take a look – get out. And – Oh yeah, DON’T get caught.’ She looked one last time at her map, then again at her handheld GPS unit. 1.2 miles to the ridgeline. In this terrain, she should be there in forty minutes or so.

When Liz finally got to the ridgeline, a little over an hour had passed. The terrain was no steeper than it had appeared on the topographic map, but most of the last half hour had been over an area of what was almost loose gravel. It had been hard going – particularly since she was doing her best to avoid making noise. but now she could finally look down into the little valley.

She found a flat area in the shade of some limberbush and took off her pack, opening it to first get a camouflaged tarp to place upon the ground. She took a last drink from the water reservoir and set it on the tarp next to the pack. She pulled the small spotting scope from the backpack and set it up on its tripod facing the facility below. Her equipment arranged for surveillance, she lay on her stomach behind the scope and pulled the edge of the tarp back over herself. As quickly as that, there was nothing unusual to be seen on the ridgeline from the facility – nothing but a shadow cast by the Limberbush bushes and what appeared to be a small clump of desert rocks in that shadow, not unlike the rest of the terrain for twenty miles around. That one of those rocks was actually the lens of a telescope that could see in to the facility 45 times as well as they could see back, no one in the facility could possibly know.

As far as Liz could tell, the Chinese satellites had never really targeted the facility below. The military ranges to the east and north were targeted at least twice a month, and none of the three pictures of this area they had been able to download were all that recent. The first – from over four years ago – was like the other two, from the end of a surveillance pass on one of the military ranges. At that time there was nothing here, and the service road that now ran to the facility had then stopped back at the wildlife refuge headquarters. The second photograph was from a little over two years ago, and it plainly showed the construction of the road and the start of construction of the facility below. The final photograph, only four weeks later, showed the facility in an advanced stage of construction. Contrary to wildlife refuge practice, the area had been scoured of vegetation away from the cabins that were built in the center of the enclosure. That alone had made Liz suspicious – the federal government didn’t normally do anything that fast, and the environmentally conscious wildlife service didn’t usually just bulldoze down native vegetation. There was a much larger building at the end of the road, just outside the large clearing, with a small parking lot.

Liz put the spotting scope on the half dozen buildings in the cleared off area. Four of them were identical – four small cottages, each with no more than a couple of small rooms – with two somewhat larger buildings adjoining them and a small swimming pool. It was at least a quarter mile from any of the buildings in the clearing to the fence around it, and slightly farther to the building at the end of the road. Liz looked closely at the fence and felt her heart sink – it was only about eight foot high, designed to keep out the deer and bighorn sheep from the range – not so much to keep anything in. The big wide wire mesh could be climbed over easily – almost like climbing a cargo net. It certainly wasn’t the sort of fence that you’d use to contain prisoners. Her trip, it appeared, had been for nothing. She considered briefly just backing out the way she’d come, but she’d traveled so far – she wanted to be sure. Besides, she’d use less water if she stayed under shelter until nightfall, then went back to the jeep – and even if this reconnaissance was a bust, Kyle was right, it was good practice for the next one because Liz Parker wasn’t about to give up.
As she lay there under the camouflage tarp, looking for any activity from the facility below, Liz thought back to that time – the last time she’d seen him.

Even now, thirty months later, she couldn’t believe she’d walked away from him – telling him he and she had a different destiny. The revelation by the recording of the woman who had pronounced herself Max and Isabel’s biological mother had shaken her to the core. She had intentionally avoided him for three days – not knowing what to say – not knowing what to do. Three days when she might have seen him – three days when they might have talked their issues through – three days when she had hunkered down in her own misery and lost the last chances she had to talk with him at all.

She discussed it with Kyle sometimes. What if Max and Tess decided to take up where they had left off in their previous lives? Neither of them really knew where that would leave them. All they knew was that what ever opportunity they might have once had to actual make a life with the one they cared about – they’d lost that chance that terrible night all those months ago. For right now, all they could think of was rescuing those they cared for – putting any sort of relationship with them back together would have to come later – if it came at all.

She continued to scan the buildings in the clearing then scanned the larger building at the end of the road. This was looking more and more discouraging. If this was a high security detention area, it certainly wasn’t apparent. It looked more like a small exclusive summer camp for badly indulged kids. There were no guard towers – a mesh fence with no concertina wire – heck, not even any barbed wire – that practically begged to be climbed. Sure, it was twenty miles off the regular road, and that was in the middle of a large dry desert, but none of those things would have stopped Max or the others.

Liz’s disappointment was so great that she neglected to watch the small cabins for long minutes as she scanned what must be the main facility. Only when she turned the scope back to the building did she realize that four people had come out of the little cabins. The distance was too far for any kind of certain identification, but two were definitely female – they were reclining in lounge chairs next to the pool – the other two – the males – were playing a game of one on one with a basketball on a hoop attached to the gable of one of the buildings.

‘Could those be them?’ she asked herself, the pounding of her heart surprising her. ‘If it is them, why don’t they run off? No matter who they are – why don’t they just run off if they don’t want to be here?’

She looked at her topographical map. She needed to get closer. She couldn’t come this far and leave without even knowing. It would be a risk to get closer, especially during the daylight, but she had too little water to wait until nightfall and still expect to make the rugged trip back to the jeep.

‘You walked away from him last time, Liz,’ she told herself as she plotted a route that would take her to the very edge of the fence. ‘You aren’t going to do it this time. All life is a risk – get used to it.’

The cleared area took up much of a small canyon which ran east-west, with the canyon opening facing east. The large building was at the southern edge of the mouth of the canyon. The drainage for the canyon – on those rare occasions when thunderstorms would wash through these hills, ran through a ravine just along the northern edge of the cleared area into the basin formed by the mountain range with the adjacent mountain range. The technical term was a bajada . Bajadas occurred where rocks and sediment from the mountains were carried down by water onto the flood plain. By circling around to come in from the north, Liz would take a long detour, but it would bring her around the canyon, out of sight of both the cabins in the cleared area and the larger building at the southern edge of the canyon opening. If the topographical map was correct, she should be able to work her way up the bajada into the canyon bringing herself unobserved to the northernmost fence line.

It would be a long trip in the heat of the day, and she would need to leave everything she could here – carrying only the minimum she needed. She dumped the pack on the tarp – the food – the extra clothes – the flashlight – the camera – the GPS – everything not absolutely needed for concealment and survival. She would need to pass by here anyway on the way back to the jeep – with luck she could retrieve it before nightfall. In the end she wore her shorts, shirt, and hiking boots, with the camelback pack on for water, the spotting scope strapped to it, and the survival knife on her hip – just in case. She had a lightweight digital camouflage poncho liner with a desert pattern that closely matched the sand and rock pattern in the bajada below. She carried it along – she’d cover herself with it as she neared the entrance to the canyon – then grabbed one energy bar to eat along the way. The temperature would be above 100 degrees before noon, and she’d be lucky to get there by that time. She hoped to get a quick look, then get back to the cache here on the ridgeline where she would rest for an hour or so, before starting the trudge back to the jeep. Even with the full moon, it would likely take her six hours in the darkness.

It was almost three hours later when Liz came into sight of the ravine leading to the northern edge of the fence. She had covered herself with the poncho liner and noticed with satisfaction how well the camouflage blended in to the surroundings. Now was the time for stealth. It took scarcely twenty minutes for her to get to where she could observe the eastern end of the northern fence – and it was every bit as easy to penetrate as she’d believed looking from above. The fence was steel wire with nearly a 6 inch mesh. It wasn’t electrified – wasn’t even secured to the ground. There were several places where she could see that something – most likely javelinas – had burrowed under the fence. It was apparently designed to keep out the deer and other animals that would likely otherwise use the swimming pool as a drinking source. It sure wouldn’t stop and determined effort to go through it, even by the deer.

But as she moved up the ravine she got to where she was on terrain just as high as the cabins and where she could easily look into the cleared area. Perhaps a hundred feet inside the fence were small white flags stuck in the ground – in much the same way that some people marked their property to keep their animals inside an electronic fence activated by a buried wire. Liz got out her scope and pointed it at the buildings inside – scanning in hopes of finding one of the occupants. Apparently they were inside. But Liz did see a sign – right in front of the swimming pool area – and as she read it the hair stood up on the back of her neck.

The sign read – Caution: Anyone attempting to use telekinesis or molecular manipulation will activate TASER bracelet and Anesthetic collar for all subjects. If this occurs while in the pool, drowning is likely before guards may be able to respond.

‘Molecular manipulation? Telekinesis? If that’s not the aliens I’m looking for,’ said Liz to herself, ‘… it’s likely at least SOME group of aliens.’

She watched the buildings carefully, finally seeing movement at the door at one of the larger buildings. As the door opened, she saw that it was a dining facility, and the first one to walk out was – Max Evans.

It took Liz a few seconds to realize it was the three other aliens behind Max as he walked from the dining hall. It wasn’t really that they had changed – perhaps tanned a little darker by their time spent under the Arizona son… No, the problem was that it seemed like her eyes were only for him – that even after these many months somehow he called to her. She shook her head – she had observations to make – reconnaissance to do. She could ill-afford to be immobilized by years of thoughts and dreams about what might have been – not with the temperature going past 100 degrees, and not with only a few gallons of water to get her over twenty miles. She put the spotting scope back to her eye, wishing she’d brought the camera as well, and determined to see and remember as much information as she could about the camp.

The clumsy looking collars worn by all four of the aliens, the clumsy looking bracelets clamped tightly to their left wrists told her how her friends had been restrained. If they got too close to the perimeter – or if they tried to use their powers to free themselves – those devices would activate, and if the sign was to be believed, when one activated they all activated. It would be an effective device – particularly for a group that was emotionally bound to one another – sort of like the teacher punishing the whole class for any transgressions by members of the class. But no, it was worse than that even, Liz thought. They were being treated like animals.
As Liz was scanning the buildings she saw movement at the rear of the dining hall – a vehicle of some sort like an automated electric golf cart detaching itself from the building and moving with the soft purr of electric motors toward the southern perimeter where the building was that held the – guards? Keepers?

It all made sense in its own way. It wasn’t like a regular jail was going to hold those four. They could open locks – in time even dissolve bars. It wasn’t like guards could physically intimidate Max or Michael either, Liz thought, her eyes feasting on him through the spotting scope. She had sort of assumed that they would still be drugged, like Max had been in the White Room, but there were probably limits as to how long you could safely keep even Max on those drugs, and he had recuperative powers that even the other aliens didn’t really share. They had to let them off the drugs sometime. Here, in the middle of nowhere, they weren’t going to be seen. If those collars and bracelets responded to the use of their powers collectively, any attempt to escape would bring its own swift collective punishment – shocking them into immobility until the anesthetic had time to render them unconscious. And even if they escaped – in the middle of the Sonoran desert – not knowing which way to go – no water. No, it was a rather ingenuous method of captivity, allowing them to live with a degree of freedom in their own small village.

Liz let the scope come to rest on – her – on Tess. As the four of them settled into recliners around the pool, all four seemed cordial enough. It had been two and a half years… and she couldn’t help but wonder if Tess and Max had found their destiny together. Liz blinked away the tears that suddenly seemed to cloud her eyes – no doubt from the dust she’d traveled through getting over bajada. It didn’t matter, she told herself. They were all friends and none of them deserved to be captives. Now that she had found them her duty was clear – get the information back to Alex and Maria and Kyle, so they could start planning a way to get them free.

Liz observed for almost a half hour, mentally taking note of every aspect of the small camp. Finally she gave one last look back at the pool area, watching a smiling Max talk to Tess – then started the circuitous course back out of the valley to recover her ridgeline cache enroute to the jeep.

But she had barely gotten back to the bajada when she heard a soft ‘Whapp’, when she felt the barbed needles pierce the poncho liner… Even before her muscles were convulsed by the 50,000 volts of the TASER she knew it was coming. As she lay on the ground with her muscles totally in spasm, she saw them approach. There were armed guards too, at least three of them – and their camouflage was even better than hers….

There were three of them in camouflage from head to toe – armed with TASERS and with what looked like tranquilizer guns, and it seemed to Liz – still immobilized by the after-effects of the TASER that they were as frightened of her as she was of them. Two continued to point weapons at her – one another TASER, one a broad barreled rifle with an attached compressed air tank that she was pretty sure was the rifle version of the tranquilizer guns they had in holsters on their belts. Both of those kept their distance while the other searched her.

The search was professional and thorough – not about to miss anything, but no gratuitous groping either as he patted down her shorts and shirt carefully. The one searching her was close enough to smell – and he did smell – these guys had apparently been in the field for some time – but it was more than that – the man had apparently smeared himself with something to hide his human scent behind an even stronger animal scent.

The second thing Liz realized was that the man was not liking what he found on her – starting with the knife which he tossed onto her own poncho liner beside her in the dirt - quickly adding her spotting scope, GPS, camelback, and the other items she’d brought with her. She could see his eyes looking back at the other men as he put each item on the poncho his eyes almost saying aloud, ‘Where the hell did she get that?’ One of the other men retreated beyond the range that she could hear him, and made a radio call to someone, talking at some length.

‘They thought I was Tess…’ her brain told her. These men had thought somehow that Tess had escaped – that she had mindwarped people to change her appearance and they had fired without warning believing somehow their containment of the aliens had been breached from inside. The man who had made the radio call finally came forward to look look down at her, shaking his head.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” he asked.

“Who are you guys – and why the hell did you shoot me?” Liz asked – struggling to get the words out through jaw muscles still in partial spasm. ‘Maybe,’ she thought, ‘I can still bluff my way out of this situation.’

“Answer the questions please. You aren’t even supposed to be here.”

“Yeah, well you aren’t supposed to shoot people either, so I guess maybe we are both in the wrong – the difference is that I just got lost birdwatching and trespassed while you committed assault and battery.”

“What were you doing up that ravine?”

“I went into the ravine because I saw a Harris’ Hawk hunting there– a Parabuteo unicinctus. He flew off so I stopped to take a pee …” she lied. She had prepared the bird-watching cover story before she’d even entered the wilderness area. It was what she’d put on the permit she’d signed at the gate. “… good thing too. Otherwise I think you’d have shocked it out of me anyway.”

“Unfortunately,” said the man who appeared to be the leader of the three, “..there is a containment facility for some fairly dangerous animals up that ravine a short distance. When we saw you leaving we thought it might have been one of them escaping.”

“I was taught that you shouldn’t shoot at anything without being sure what it was…” said Liz.

The man did not appear entirely convinced,, or particularly remorseful. “Well we wouldn’t have really expected someone to be wearing a camouflage poncho in 105 degree heat, Ms.…. I don’t believe I caught your name.”

“Miss. Livingston..,” said Liz. She’d carefully prepared the fake identity after buying a bumper for the jeep from a junk-yard in Las Cruces. While Maria had distracted the junk-yard owner, Kyle and Alex had removed the bumper from a jeep only a couple of years different from the Evans jeep – and both licenses and it’s registration paperwork as well. It had belonged to a J. Livingston, and Alex had made her a full package of fake ID as Julia Livingston. “… and you three seem to be camouflaged just as well as I was – even better.”

“Well, in our case we were out trying to trap Lobos – wild Mexican wolves – for a captive breeding program we have back at the main base camp. That’s why we smell like Bighorn musk. But we are employed here and are permitted by law to be in this area. You, Miss Livingston, definitely are not.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to pick up my gear and go then,” said Liz, trying to bluff her way out of this.
Unfortunately it did not appear her captors were going to let her do that. The man shook his head sadly. “Regretfully, you may have been exposed to contagion from the animals in the holding facility there. We’ll need to take you in to have you checked – and to sign some paperwork, of course.”

”Contagion?”

“Nothing all that serious, Miss Livingston. The animals in the canyon are carriers of – uh – Brucellosis. We can’t afford to have that disease getting loose among the Bighorn sheep in the Wilderness area, it can be quite devastating to ungulates. That’s why we are keeping them contained there. If you have been contaminated the lab will be able to tell – then a few days of antibiotics and you’ll be just fine,” said the man with what appeared to be an attempt at a smile of reassurance. It was difficult to tell, considering the camouflage balaclava that covered his face.

One of the men walked back to the north – away from the building that clearly existed to oversee the alien holding area. He returned in minutes driving a camouflaged six-wheeled vehicle, pulling a trailer with an animal cage on it. Liz wondered briefly if that was where she was going, but instead they helped her into a back seat on the six-wheel drive ATV, shoving a pile of packs that had been there back onto the top of the animal cage, eliciting a few yips from a rather ragged looking wolf inside.

‘They really were out trapping wolves,’ she told herself. ‘Seeing me was just random chance. If I can make them believe my cover story I can get back to Roswell – tell the others – plan how we can come back and rescue Max, Izzy, Michael - yes, and even Tess.’

The ‘others’ at least was what she told herself. ‘Max’ was actually what she was thinking, and the tendrils of concern – of jealousy she finally forced her mind to admit – as she thought of Max and Tess together for the last two years – briefly distracted her as she rode in the back of the ATV toward the large building at the south of the bajada.

As they entered the building Liz got a look through the windows and saw a biological laboratory. There were perhaps a half-dozen technicians and a variety of equipment. The men seemed to hesitate as they approached the office, and she could almost taste their fear. They entered the door and a secretary looked up at them. The woman was in her late twenties and looked a little nervous herself. She told them to go right in, that the Director was anxious to talk to them.

The man was sitting at the head of a table as they entered. He looked up from the notebook computer he was working on and acknowledged their entry with what seemed like a friendly nod – but then she saw his eyes look at her. The pupils seemed to dilate briefly and a thin smile come to his lips as his eyes seemed to almost feast upon her presence – and then it was gone, the smile, the stare, even the sense of urgent need that had somehow seemed to radiate from him, as he turned his head to her camouflaged captor as he spoke.

“This is the woman I radioed about – the one I TASERed, sir. It was a terrible mistake, I thought she was one of – one of the specimens that had escaped. Her name is Miss Livingston.,” he said, as he placed the poncho with her personal effects on the table.

“Officer – I think you are being a little too harsh on yourself. You had only seconds to make a decision – a very important decision – and you made the right decision, in my opinion. While it is unfortunate in the extreme that Miss – What did you say your name was dear?”
“Livingston,’ said Liz, “… Julia Livingston.”

The man gave the same brief thin smile as he looked at her, and then continued,
“ Ah, well, yes – while we are all sorry that Julia here had to go through that, there is no real harm done after all – and the consequences had your assumption been right could have literally been incalculable. No, no, officer, you judge yourself too harshly. Your instincts were good – you erred on the side of caution. That’s a good thing. I also hear you were successful trapping as well. That’s wonderful. Why don’t you go get the animal taken care of – get yourself a shower – then go home and see your family. I’ll take care of Miss Livingston here.”

A large DVD screen on the wall appeared to show a duplicate of what appeared on the screen of the man’s notebook computer. The table was likely used for meetings with presentation projected on the large DVD screen behind the man. His actual desk was off to the side, and Liz took in the diplomas mounted above it quickly. Diplomas in Zoology and Veterinary Medicine from Texas A&M University, and a PhD in Molecular Biology from Harvard, all in the name of James Candler.

“Well, Dr Candler, If you are sure ….”

“Sure..?” he asked rhetorically, getting up and patting the man on his arm comfortingly, “Why of course I’m sure. I can certainly handle the young lady here. You’ve been in the field for almost a week – and done well. You deserve to go home and relax a little.”

Doctor Candler walked the man to the door and ushered him out, smiling constantly. It struck Liz as sort of a bizarre act. Exactly why the man seemed terrified of Candler she couldn’t say. Except for that funny look he’d given her twice, the man seemed harmless enough. But when he closed the door and turned back toward her, he became more serious – more adult.

“I’m sure that seemed a little bizarre to you, Miss, and I apologize for that. I have only been in this job a little less than four months and unfortunately my predecessor was a brutish and harsh supervisor. His leadership style – if it may even be dignified by the term – was one of intimidation and abuse of his power. I am more of a …” he smiled up at her, “… a dog whisperer type of leader. Organizations …” he continued, “…are like animals. After what my predecessor put them through, this needs a lot of positive reinforcement right now, although clearly I would have wished the man had not accidentally TASERed you. But then … I forget my manners.”

The doctor pressed a button on the phone next to him and spoke out loud.

“Ms. Jefferies – would you be kind enough to bring this young lady some refreshments. She appears to have had a long hot walk.”

The secretary was in shortly with an ice bucket with several bottles of water and soft drinks in it. The woman seemed to look at Doctor Candler with apprehension, and at Liz with what seemed to be sympathy.

“Ms. Jefferies – I would appreciate it if you would hold my calls while I am meeting with this young lady. Unless there is an emergency, I would like it if we weren’t disturbed please.”

The woman’s eyes seemed to widen, but she merely nodded her head. “Yes, Doctor Candler,” she replied, as she left the room and closed the door behind her.

Dr. Candler looked at the door and shook his head sadly.
“I probably did not handle that well. Ms. Jefferies is a single mom and needs this job very badly. There aren’t a lot of jobs in an isolated area like this with either the salary or the benefits that she needs to take care of her child. I know my predecessor sexually harassed the woman, and I fear he may have extorted other ‘favors’ from her as a condition of keeping her job. I fear she thinks that I intend to compel you to do something of the sort. I assure you that isn’t the case – I simply wish to talk to you. I wish there was some way to alleviate Ms. Jefferies fears about me – it must be horrible to come in to work each day with those concerns.”

Liz found herself edging closer to her poncho – the one that contained her survival knife. She had no idea why this man was talking to her like she was his confidante – or his junior partner – but it made her uncomfortable. That – and the pleased look she had seen on his face when she’d come through that door – worried her. Besides, this was the bastard that was keeping Max, Isabelle, Michael, and Tess imprisoned. By definition that made him a bad guy.

“Well, she’s known you for a lot longer than I have,” said Liz angrily. “Maybe I should trust HER judgment.”

Dr. Candler's face looked angry as he looked back at her. “I would never – never – force any woman to do something like that. As the father of two grown daughters I find the very idea that anyone would do that – disgusting.” His face softened as he continued, “Besides – some species – and some men – are just inherently monogamous it seems. I was fortunate enough to have thirty good years with my wife before she died of cancer last year. I wouldn’t sully the memory of those years with any lesser relationship now, even if it were totally voluntary.”

It was the look in his eyes when he mentioned his wife – the longing – the sense of loss – that convinced Liz he was telling the truth. She’d felt those feelings herself ever since that night that she’d walked away from Max after telling him he had a different destiny.

“I’m sorry about your loss, Doctor. Sorry I reminded you of it…”

“Not your fault – you could scarcely have known. Besides, I have the comfort of my daughters and grandchildren. One daughter lives in Yuma with her husband – when he is home. He’s a Marine Corps pilot. The other lives in Silicon Valley and works for a tech company – I’m not exactly sure what she does really, but she apparently does it well. They are threatening to make her a vice president. I took this position mainly so I could be close to them – and to my grandchildren.”

He spoke with obvious joy when he spoke about his grandchildren, and she noticed the photos of two couples on his desk, one couple with two children, the other with one and another apparently on the way.

“I’m also sorry about what I said – what I implied,” Liz said sheepishly.

“Apology accepted…, “ said Dr. Candler, a soft smile returning to his face, “ … Miss Parker.”

The last word – coming as it did at the end of what seemed a simple expression of politeness – stunned Liz and she felt herself suddenly unsure of what to do. She had meticulously prepared her Julia Livingston cover story, but she’d done so simply to give her a plausible and innocent background. If the man actually knew her name and wasn’t just guessing – but her mind rejected that thought almost immediately. Out of all the surnames in the world why would he be just guessing Parker? Liz found herself chewing her lower lip – something she always did when she was intensely nervous.

Dr. Candler was sitting there – the same thin smile on his lips. She’d never been good at lying – that’s why she had worked so hard on the false identity – but there was no way she thought she could pull it off/ Even so, she had to try.

“Parker..?” she asked, trying to sound like she didn’t understand. The attempt sounded lame even to her.

“Yes, Parker – Elizabeth Parker…,” said Dr. Candler, his hand quickly moving over the keyboard of the computer. Almost immediately a file opened on the computer screen – and the large monitor at the end of the room. She recognized the picture almost immediately, it had been from the local Roswell newspaper from just before graduation.

“Elizabeth Parker,” Candler continued, “…valedictorian of her class, West Roswell High School with a 4.0 grade point average, honor student in AP Biology, chemistry, and physics, with a combined 1594 on her SATs, who was going to take a one-year break from academics to “find herself’ touring Europe. THAT Elizabeth Parker.

I’m not exactly sure how you found this place, Miss Parker, but obviously you did considerable research to do so. I too am capable of doing research, and I probably have more access to government reports and documents than you do and certainly have more resources. Indeed, the surprising thing is not that I know about you, but rather that you found out about this place at all – let alone actually coming here. But now that you have, Miss Parker, you become a rather unexpected factor in the equation.”

Liz dove toward the back of the table, her hand going to the poncho and finding the knife before turning back toward Candler. She held out the knife defensively to ward him away, her eyes locked on his. He had the same thin smile as he shook his head slowly and spoke.

“Miss Parker – where are your manners? You haven’t been threatened – I’ve offered you hospitality – besides ..,” he said, bringing the TASER up from his lap, “… you’ve already been TASERed once today. I can scarcely believe that was a pleasant enough experience that you’d like to repeat it. So why don’t you just slide the knife – carefully – down the table, and I’ll put it away – and put this away as well,” he finished, holding the TASER up in a less threatening position.

The knife slid down the table, stopping a foot in front of his left hand.

“Thank you, Miss Parker,” said Candler, picking up the knife and stepping back to his desk where he locked the knife and the TASER in the upper drawer. “Now perhaps we can have a polite discourse.”

“Polite discourse?” Liz asked, disbelievingly, “You are … sick. You act like you are so caring of everyone but you keep four people locked up … people who are just people like anyone else, people who haven’t done anything wrong….”

“Now, now, Miss Parker, I think it would be better if we were at least honest with each other. You more than most people surely realize that the – specimens – in the canyon are not ‘just people like anyone else.’ Legally speaking, they aren’t really people at all, actually.”

“What… what do you mean?”

“Ah, that’s better, Miss Parker, – you see that’s what a scientist must do – gather information before making assertions or taking actions – and I suppose that considering all the work you did to find this place, you are entitled to a little background information at that. Sit down and have your drink and we’ll talk.”

Liz sat down at the table warily and looked at the drinks. She selected one of the two cans of soda rather than a water bottle – relatively certain at least that it hadn’t been drugged or something, although if the man had wanted her incapacitated he would have probably used the TASER she decided. She didn’t know what he wanted – not really – but she’d seen the look in his eyes in that first unguarded moment, and whatever he was selling – well, Liz Parker wasn’t buying. But she needed information – he was right about that – if she was going to be able to get out of here and get help for Max and the others. Slowly, not really trusting him at all, she sat down in the seat.

“That’s better, Miss Parker,” Candler said. “I wasn’t there at the start, but I did review the records of what happened to the spec – to your friends, that is – after their capture. The interrogations lasted for almost six months and, I must say, they held their own against the best that the FBI interrogators could do for quite awhile. Even FBI interrogators have their own cultural biases – they really couldn’t bring themselves to use physical violence against the females. When they tried it against the males – well, if they drugged them enough so they couldn’t fight back, the physical punishment didn’t really register, and if they didn’t drug them that much, the FBI interrogators generally took at least as bad a beating as your friends – and to add insult to injury, your friends appeared to heal faster as well.

In the end, the FBI resorted to drugs almost entirely on all four – the technique is called pentobarbital interrogation, only they used not only pentobarbital but scopolamine, meperidine, and numerous other drugs. Ethanol alone actually was fairly effective as it turned out – you friends apparently have a deficiency of alcohol dehydrogenase that makes them particularly sensitive to the intoxicating effects of even simple alcoholic beverages. By the time the questioning was over, all four were pretty well wrung out by the interrogators who were seeking evidence that your friends were some sort of alien conspirators out to conquer the world. Instead, after truly exhaustive interrogations – both for your friends, and certainly for the interrogators, they came to the conclusion that your friends were pretty much what they appear – simple teenagers with no agenda of any kind, who happen to have been created with a small amount of alien DNA incorporated into their chromosomes. From their interrogations I take it you are aware of the ridiculous story they were given – that they are some sort of a storage form for alien royalty – it appeared to amuse the FBI agents that they were actually naïve enough to believe such stupidity.”

Liz looked at him angrily. “I was there when they activated the communicator. I saw …..”

“You saw what their keeper wanted you all to see. You saw a cover story that he had concocted to answer the questions of his naïve charges – to manipulate them into doing what he wanted them to do – nothing more. Now THAT specimen – the one called Nasedo – that one was very different. We still have a few samples of his – well, I guess you would say what passes for his genetic material, although in his case that’s somewhat of a misnomer – fascinating, that one, truly fascinating.”

“The FBI had no right – no right at all to do that to them…”

“Nonsense, Miss Parker. The FBI was merely doing their job. It was your friends that had no rights…”

“But they do. They are citizens – at least Max and Isabel and Michael are….”

“No, Miss Parker. It was very simple for the Department of Justice to convince a friendly judge that the birth certificates that Social Services gave your friends were given out in error. After all, even their birthdays were some clerk’s wild guess. In fact, they were conceived decades ago – likely in the 1940s – and the pods – Oh yes, we recovered the pods from that chamber – the pods failed and released them only twelve years ago. It was somewhat of a field day for the DOJ lawyers, since they were demonstrably illegal aliens, juveniles, had conspired together to evade detection of their illegal status…. Were you aware, Miss Parker, that the federal government employs five percent of the lawyers in the entire country? They had no end of avenues open to them to attack your friends legally.”

“But even if they aren’t citizens they still have rights. The Supreme Court has said that even illegal aliens have rights…”

“You might make an excellent scientist some day, Miss Parker, but when it comes to law, politics, the bureaucracy,…. I am afraid you are hopelessly naïve.
You are correct that even illegal aliens have rights under the law. That’s why the lawyers did NOT charge them with being illegal aliens – did not charge them with any crimes at all. Had they done that, it would have started a clock ticking – created a deadline that would have compelled certain hearings – allowed the foster parents of two of your friends to apply for a writ of habeus corpus – given them the opportunities to exercise rights that the courts have long established are the province of any human being.
No, Miss Parker, government lawyers are smarter than that. They simply declared that your friends were not humans at all – that they are animals – animals entitled to reasonably humane treatment as non-human primates, but not having any legal rights whatever.”

“That’s insane. Anyone who talked to them could see that…”

“And how many people, Miss Parker, do you believe have been allowed to talk to your friends? There is no obligation to allow animals – dangerous animals – to talk to anyone.”

“But that’s – wrong. The courts wouldn’t permit…”

“Please, Miss Parker…. While neither of us are lawyers, we are both reasonably well informed in other things besides science. Surely you have had a course in civics in High School, have you not?
The US Constitution, Miss Parker, was signed in 1781. It carried in it a ludicrous notion – the notion that some human beings, because of skin pigmentation that was evolutionarily advantageous in a tropical environment, could be considered to be non-humans, could in fact be considered property. In 1856 this preposterous notion was considered in the Supreme Court in the Dred Scott decision – and confirmed. It took five more years – three million men fighting in the field, 600,000 of them dying, before this preposterous situation was rectified and the Thirteenth Amendment was passed.”

“But …. but Max and Michael and Isabel and Tess are NOT animals,” she said angrily.

“Of course not, Miss Parker,” Candler replied agreeably. “That certainly would be my opinion as well. IF the existence of your friends became generally known, well – ultimately the issue would work its way through the courts given time, with DOJ lawyers fighting holding actions along the way. However the existence of your friends is NOT generally known, and even if it were the process would take a long, long time. I’m a pragmatic man, Miss Parker. That process could never be completed in my lifetime – likely not even in yours – or theirs – particularly not in theirs.”

“But that is wrong – it’s not fair….”

“Well, yes I suppose you are correct, but wrongness – fairness – that, Miss Parker, is in the eye of the beholder. I am a pragmatic man, Miss Parker. The fact of the matter is that your government has often done this in the past and continues to do it today when it feels threatened. Ask the Japanese-Americans that were incarcerated during WWII – deprived of their freedom and property. Was it wrong? Most certainly, but the courts backed up the bureaucracy at the time, as it generally will because the bureaucracy in this country, Miss Parker, generally does represent the concerns and most definitely the fears of the public.”

“But it’s still wrong…”

“You, Miss Parker, realize it is wrong. Most people do not – will not. It’s simply not their ox being gored, Miss Parker. The Japanese-Americans were frightening to the overwhelming majority of the US people after the attack at Pearl Harbor. Your friends are no less frightening to the bureaucracy, to the political establishment, to the American people were their existence to became generally known.”

"But you know it’s wrong too. You admitted it. How can you be a part of this?” Liz asked in a voice torn between anger and desperation.

“I am, as I have stressed repeatedly, a pragmatic man, Miss Parker. There is a process – a process that involves years – a process that involves the education of the public – a process that involves the changing of an awful lot of minds. Do you realize how many people on this planet believe in religions that say that life was created only on this planet? How many people would be offended at the thought of a part-human creature? How many people are frightened to death of the very idea that other intelligent life must exist somewhere? The bureaucracy reflects these concerns, and you cross it at great hazard. Tell me, do you approve of slavery, Miss Parker?”

“Of course not…”

“So had you been alive in the 1850s, would you have joined John Brown in his attack on the Harper’s Ferry arsenal? Would you have been there fighting at his side? Clearly, millions were against slavery, but would you have been one of the twenty-one men who fought slavery then? Would you have been one of the ten men who died fighting against slavery then? Or one of the seven who were hanged for their actions? These men, Miss Parker, died as criminals only two years before the entire North was fighting for the same cause – only seven years before the Thirteenth Amendment became the law of the land Would you have done that, Miss Parker?”

Liz didn’t understand this. Was the man actually trying to justify holding Max and the others like animals? This was stupid. Max wasn’t an animal, anyone could see that. “I would have done what I believed to be right?” she replied.

“A non-answer, Miss Parker. Come now, it can’t be that hard. Take a stand. Would you have been a terrorist like John Brown trying to push a political agenda the people were not yet ready to accept – a terrorist who wound up being hanged by those same people, or would you have simply been one of the many who, although they did not approve of slavery and would passively resist it – hide escaped slaves and help them move north to Canada, were still unwilling to commit to do something that society and the bureaucracy were not yet ready to approve?”

“You are trying to confuse the issue. You are trying to justify your own guilt,” said Liz, fighting back tears – tears that she really wasn’t sure were from frustration – anger – guilt.

“Actually, I’m not, Miss Parker. I am trying to understand you – what makes YOU tick, what commitment YOU have to these friends and their situation. What did you expect today? I have little doubt that you’ve gone to a great deal of effort to find this place. Did you really think that you would waltz in her and free your friends – and that that would be the end of it even if you did? What did you imagine – that you and Miss DeLuca and Mr. Whitman and Mr. Valenti,” he asked, reading the names from a file he had opened on his computer, “ … would simply steal these four specimens and the eight of you would live happily ever after, Miss Parker? You couldn’t do it – you couldn’t begin to get them past the containment system – but even if it could you would change nothing. Their legal status would still be animals, you would be chased – eventually caught. Your actions are illogical, Miss Parker. They are not a plan – merely part of a plan – and because they are they are simply wishful thinking. You are, I believe, capable of understanding that.”

“I’ll do whatever I have to do to free Max and the others…”

“Really, Miss Parker? I’m not trying to insult you, but the fact is that such a statement generally isn’t true. Most people simply won’t give that much of a commitment. Most people, like the abolitionists in the 1850s, were not willing to actually fight to free the slaves. Oh, they’d help passively, but the commitment to do what was really necessary was not yet there, Miss Parker. Actual willingness to commit your life to something – that’s a rare commodity indeed. Few people will do it for their society. Even in the military, and there ARE heroes in the military, well, a person doesn’t really throw their body on top of a grenade to protect their government or society. People generally become heroes because they are attempting to protect their friends or family. I can only wonder if you would make that sort of a commitment for your friends.”

“You are just saying that to justify your own guilt in not doing anything,’ said Liz, her face flushing with anger. “Is your career THAT important to you?”

Candler smiled and shook his head. “Actually, Miss Parker, only this morning I decided to do something that will undoubtedly mean the end of my federal career – that will certainly cause me to be fired. But I made up my mind to do it anyway, because it was the only thing I could do – and there is no chance I could get their approval before the fact – nor is it likely I could justify it to them after the fact. I guess in its own way, the action is therefore somewhat heroic.”

“You are going to let Max and the others go?” Liz asked, not really daring to believe that was what he meant.

“That was actually one of many options I considered, but no, hardly that, for the same reason I told you – they would be captured again eventually, and I would have sacrificed my career for nothing.”

“Well what then?”

Liz felt the blood drain from her as she heard Candler’s matter of fact reply, “Oh, I decided to euthanize all four of them. I decided they were much too dangerous to humanity to allow them to live.”

Liz looked at the man in disbelief, trying not to let the horror she felt at those words overcome her. Her lips felt numb as she spoke, her knees felt weak, but she couldn’t let the words of this madman go unchallenged.

“You sadistic bastard…. First you take them away from their homes in the middle of the night and torture them, now you intend to murder them? What kind of a monster are you?”

“The problem, dear girl, is not what kind of a monster I am, but rather what kind of monsters they may become. But even so, you do me a disservice. I did not take any of your friends from their homes – that, may I remind you, was the FBI. I will admit that my predecessor treated your friends poorly. Indeed, as far as I can tell he treated everyone poorly – but I had nothing to do with his actions – no more than I had anything to do with his treatment of poor Ms. Jefferies there,” Candler said, nodding toward the closed door to the outer room where his secretary worked.

“But you are the one who wants to kill them,” said Liz.

“Actually, no, Miss Parker. I do not wish to kill your friends – but after a fairly exhaustive analysis of the issues, I have concluded that killing them is the best of the bad options available to me. Even killing your friends is not likely to be enough, but it will at least buy the human race a little more time.”

“But why? What have they ever done to you?”

“They have done absolutely nothing to me personally, Miss Parker. In fact, I can’t honestly say that they have done anything to anybody that wasn’t perfectly warranted by provocations against them. I have no animosity towards any of them. It’s not their fault – they are what they are – not one of them planned it that way.”

“Then it isn’t fair – it isn’t fair that you just kill them for no reason.”

“Reality is not fair, Miss Parker, nor is it unfair. It just is. But I certainly have a reason for my decision.”

“What reason could possibly justify murdering four people in cold blood?”

“Now THAT, Miss Parker, is the first reasonable question you have asked. Actually, I’d LIKE to tell you what I’ve found – to show you what the reason is – to explain to you the options I have considered, and why in the end the only option I had that was viable was to euthanize your friends. You see, Miss Parker, if you can find a viable option that I can’t – one that would let me spare your friends with reasonable safety, perhaps then I could avoid the unpleasant necessity of killing your friends. So… would you like to go over the data with me? Would you like to try to be a scientist, rather than an hysterical young woman,” asked Candler, the same thin smile flickering over his face that had appeared when he’d first seen her.

Liz looked at the man. ‘He’s crazy – he’s crazy and he wants something from me,’ she thought. ‘But Liz,’ the voice in her brain told her, ‘…what choice do you really have?'

Her mouth was dry and it was hard for her to get the words out, but eventually they came.
“Sure, Dr. Candler… I’d love to go over your work with you.” Maybe she’d think of something, she told herself. Maybe there would be an opportunity to get a weapon – to get away – an opportunity to do something – anything.

“Splendid, Miss Parker,” Candler responded.