Kathy W-Shapeshifters Series-Books 1 & 2

[Kathy W 2200]

PART THIRTY-ONE



July 7, 1947, Pohlman Ranch

T minus 15 minutes




Valeris let the sacs drift slowly toward the floor, making certain they landed gently. These were the last two. David Proctor and Urza had left several minutes ago with the fourth sac; they would be back shortly. They would not have much time before the human Army would be on the move, so the decision had been made to take the last two sacs together. Valeris would ride along on the journey, ready to provide deception as needed. It was time to make one last inspection of the ship before they abandoned it.

Valeris headed back down the hallway to the lab. According to the timepiece the girl’s father wore, they should be returning about a quarter past 5 a.m., almost one full hour before the soldiers planned to move. Jaddo had kept an eye on the encampment all night, having checked it only a short while ago. There had been no movement, no sign of any change of plans. They should be able to make their escape with plenty of time to spare.

He reached the lab and looked around. The healing stones were still there, saved till the last moment in case they were needed; he picked them up. What else to take? Several things had already been loaded into the car besides the sacs, but they couldn’t take everything. Pressed for time and space as they were, Valeris had been forced to be brutal in deciding what to leave and what to take. It had almost been easier when they ran from Antar. Then, they had been pursued so closely that decisions had been made dispassionately. Now there was more time to think, and in some ways, that made leaving harder.

Finding nothing more in the lab, Valeris completed one last circuit of the ship. The cargo hold where the Granolith had been stored. The stasis chamber where, until just recently, the bodies of their Wards had lain. Their various sleeping compartments, which he checked carefully to make sure nothing personal had been left behind. The ruined control room, with its consoles askew. The water from the storm had long since dried, and they had managed to tidy up a bit, but the ship was still a mess.

Sinking into one of the seats in the control room, Valeris allowed himself a few brief moments of nostalgia. In a short while, humans would be crawling all over this ship. This race was still unaware of life on other planets, still incapable of interstellar travel; they hadn’t even reached their own moon. Finding this ship would be a watershed event in their history. No doubt they would take it apart, piece by piece, marveling over the materials and technology they couldn’t understand. They would study it for years, he was certain of that.

Valeris had no particular affection for space travel, or the machines that made it possible, but he felt a pang of regret when he thought of what would happen to this vessel. Strange as it seemed, it was all he had left of his home, his world. Here, on this ship, with his fellow Warders, his way of life still reigned. Back home, their way of life had undoubtedly disappeared, their race under siege yet again from a ruler who distrusted them and would most likely misuse them. The humans had a saying about history repeating itself. Perhaps they have a point, Valeris thought sadly.

Valeris stretched his legs. He was very tired, as they all no doubt were. These last few days had been very taxing. They normally did not use their new abilities this often, or for such sustained periods of time, and that use was clearly taking its toll. They would all need a good long rest before deciding what to do with themselves for the next many years.

He sat awhile longer, resting, reflecting…..and remembering. Remembering what their world was like, what brought them here, and why it was so crucial they succeed. Oh, it wouldn’t be difficult to find someone to overthrow Khivar. That was the easy part. The hard part was finding someone willing and able to do that who would not simply turn into a despot themselves once they were finished. Who was strong enough to hold the various factions in check, while still nudging everyone toward a more open, egalitarian society. Antarians had a dismal track record when it came to producing kings of this flavor. Riall, and Zan after him, had been extremely unusual in their willingness, their drive, to think and act differently than generation upon generation of their predecessors. Riall had succeeded brilliantly and, despite Brivari’s grousing, so had Zan. It was very unlikely that another Riall or Zan could be produced from the mess that undoubtedly held sway on Antar at this moment. No, we must come back with the King, the true King, Valeris thought, the King from the royal house who changed our world. No one else would do.

Valeris took one last look around, and rose from his seat. Enough of the past. The future loomed, and they were responsible for it. Time to wake the child and get ready to leave.




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




David Proctor struck a match on the dashboard and lit his cigarette while carefully controlling the steering wheel with his knees. It was a skill he hadn’t practiced much lately, since technically he had given up smoking. But every now and then when things got sticky, he still found a cigarette comforting. Nightmares from the war would make him reach for one, or memories of his brother. Granted, things had gone well tonight, and it looked like they were going to make it. But after everything that had happened in the last twenty-four hours, he’d decided he deserved a cigarette.

Inhaling deeply, he blew a ring of smoke. He felt a pair of eyes on him, and turned sideways to look at his passenger. James was watching him with fascination, and something akin to horror.

“What is that?” James asked.

“It’s a cigarette,” David replied. “Nasty habit, I know. Emily won’t let me smoke in the house; says it smells up the place. But I enjoy it now and then.”

“Are…..are you……are you inhaling smoke?” James asked incredulously.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Voluntarily?” When David just looked at him, James continued, “I see no compelling reason why anyone would choose to inhale smoke.”

David stubbed out the cigarette in the ashtray with an exasperated sigh. It wasn’t enough that his wife got after him about his smoking, little of it as he did. Now people from another planet were on his case. Life really wasn’t fair sometimes.

“It a bad habit, I know,” David admitted. “But I find it relaxing.” James looked skeptical, no doubt wondering how such an activity could be considered relaxing. “Don’t your people have anything they do when they’re upset, or worried, or angry?” David asked. “Something that relaxes them, makes them feel better?”

Understanding washed over James’s face. “Ah. Yes. Now I understand. When we are…. ‘upset’, as you say, we change forms. Sometimes we take the shape of an object, such as a piece of furniture, thus escaping all interaction with others. Sometimes we assume the form of an animal and go for a run, or fly. Or sometimes we try a new shape, one we’ve never attempted. That can be very….. ‘relaxing’.”

“Well, I can’t do any of that,” said David, who had listened to this recital of shape-changing with eyes as big as saucers. “So I smoke.”

“Aren’t there other ways humans use to relax?” James asked doubtfully.

“Sure. Some people listen to music, or exercise, or read a book. Some people smoke. I like the occasional cigarette,” David responded, a bit defensively.

“I see,” James replied, in a tone that made it clear he did not see at all. “So, you are upset, worried, or angry.” He paused. “Did you and Brivari quarrel?”

David gripped the steering wheel harder. He really didn’t want to talk about his chat with Brivari. He had been wrestling with his torn feelings all night, ultimately deciding to stay out of it. “We had a disagreement,” David said carefully. “That’s all.”

James nodded as though he understood. “Brivari has lived a long time,” he noted. “He lived in the bad times, before the old king, the father of the current king, changed everything. He guarded that king until his death, and guarded his son after him. He helped build the peaceful world the old king brought about, and now he is watching it fall apart.”

David felt a twinge of regret. “That must be hard for him,” he said quietly.

“It is,” James confirmed. “Do not judge him too harshly. He has spent his life building what was just destroyed.”

“What if he’s keeping things from you?” David asked carefully, hoping he wasn’t opening a can of worms merely by asking.

“We have all kept things from each other at one point or another,” James said calmly. “We each Ward different members of the royal family, so that is inevitable. If Brivari is keeping information to himself, he must have a good reason. He would not willingly put us in danger.”

“No. I don’t think he would,” David said honestly. “But what if his keeping information from you places you in danger even though that was not his intention?”

James turned to look at him. “You know something,” he said flatly. It was not a question.

David paused for a moment, staring at the road ahead. “What if I do? Would you want me to tell you?”

“Would you tell me?” James countered.

I’ve debated that one all night, David thought. He’d been over it dozens of times, coming back to the same conclusion over and over.

“No,” David said. “I wouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s really none of my business,” David replied, wondering if his mental arguments would hold up when voiced aloud. “Because I might make things worse by poking my nose into something I know nothing about. Because things might look much different to him than they do to me. If I spill the beans, I might be making the same mistake I’m accusing Brivari of making: Making things worse without intending to.”

Oddly enough, James smiled at this answer. “You are wise, David Proctor. That is the right answer. As for your question, no, I wouldn’t want you to tell me. For all the reasons you stated.”

David breathed a long sigh of relief. For a moment there, with his already shaky convictions tested, he’d almost wavered. “So, James,” he said, eager to change the subject. “Have all of you decided what you’re going to do with yourselves for the next twenty years or so?”

“We have not discussed it,” James replied. “We have not yet had the chance. I would imagine we would need to blend into your society.”

“You’ll need a job,” David pointed out. When James looked puzzled, he clarified, “Work. Something you do to make money. You know, like you did for Bill Chambers. You’ll need to buy food somehow.”

“Money. Currency. Yes, we would need to produce currency,” James mused. “Do you think working for Mr. Chambers would produce enough currency to acquire food?”

David smiled. These were funny people. They knew so much about some things, and next to nothing about others. He wondered, not for the first time, where they were getting their information. “It would,” he answered, still smiling, “although Bill is a little steamed you disappeared after helping him the other day.”

“Steamed?”

“Annoyed. Put out. A little angry. But I could have a word with him for you, if you think you’d like doing that kind of work.”

“I am unsure what kind of work would be suitable for me,” James said doubtfully. “I was bred to protect. I doubt there is much call for that on your planet.”

Are you kidding? David thought. You’d put the Secret Service to shame. “What do you like to do? Besides, protecting, that is.”

James thought for several long minutes before answering. “I like people,” he said confidently. “I enjoy being with you humans. Perhaps I could do something that involved people.”

David smiled again. James did like people, not to mention the fact that he had an endless fascination with all things human or Earth related. In addition to his usual list of questions about anything and anyone they saw while driving along, he had spent the last fifteen minutes grilling David on the origin and purpose of fireworks. James seemed quite taken with the fireworks display he had watched with Dee, commenting several times about all the colors. All David had been able to remember was that the Chinese had invented fireworks, which of course led to several questions about who the Chinese were, where they lived, why they would invent something like fireworks, etc. David was strongly reminded of a typical two year-old who constantly asked, “Why?—Why?—Why?”

James looked off into the distance, where the first tiny rays of the sun were beginning to show. “What is that?”

“That, my friend, is the beginning of what looks to be a spectacular sunrise,” David answered.

“There are so many colors,” James said wonderingly.

“There’ll be a lot more than that before it’s over,” David said. “Aren’t there colors on your planet? You seemed to be interested in all the colors in the fireworks too.”

“We have colors, just not so many. Not anywhere near as many,” James said, still staring.

“I won’t be with you for the actual sunrise today,” David said, “but wherever you are, make sure you look. If you like colors, you’ll like that.”

Suddenly a loud pop sounded, and the car jerked sideways. “Damn,” David muttered, steering the car to the side of the road.

Both of them got out and looked at the flat tire on the driver’s side. “I have a spare in the back seat,” David called to James, opening the back door.

He never reached it. James had bent down to inspect the flat tire, and now he passed his hand over it, not quite touching it. As David watched, open-mouthed, James’s hand glowed, and the tire began to inflate.

David whistled softly. “James, forget the grocery store. I think your future is in auto repair.”



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



Pohlman Ranch

T minus 0




Dee Proctor stirred from her little cocoon underneath the ship. She’d been dozing for the past few minutes after Valeris had gently awakened her to let her know they would be leaving soon. Now she stretched and pushed herself to a sitting position, careful not to bump her head on the hull.

Despite having slept on the ground all night, she felt much better. And dawn was just starting to peak over the horizon, making the darkness navigable. Her mother always said everything looked worse at night. “Wait till morning,” she’d say, “and give it some more thought.” Now, with morning on its way and her friends almost out of harms way, she felt peaceful for the first time in what seemed like a long time.

Dee stood up and shook out her blankets, folding them neatly into squares as she looked up at the ship. There wasn’t enough light to make it gleam like it had the very first day she’d seen it. She would love to see it shine like that again, but they would be gone before the sun rose. According to Valeris it was now close to 5 o’clock in the morning, a little over an hour before the Army would head their way. She desperately wished she had a pencil and some paper. Artistic talents didn’t run in her family, but she could have sketched a worthy picture. So she sat down again, blankets folded in her lap, and tried to memorize every detail of the ship. It was beautiful, and she pondered for a few minutes what kind of people would build something so pretty.

A noise pricked her ear, the soft crunch of footsteps. Probably Valeris, coming to get her. Dee stood up and started walking around the circular hull toward the hatch where they had been unloading…..whatever it was they’d been unloading.

She heard the footsteps again, and instinctively paused. Those did not sound like Valeris’s footsteps. His had been quiet; these were stealthy. His had been confident; these were tentative, hesitant. The footsteps of someone who does not want to be discovered.

Careful not to make a sound, Dee crept forward. Peering around the hull toward the hill against which the ship was nestled, she gazed upon a sight that set her heart pounding, shattering that fragile peace she had been enjoying only moments ago.

Four soldiers were approaching, guns ready, eyes almost as round as the ship itself. The two closest were only a few yards from the hatch, while the other two remained halfway down the hill, gaping. As Dee watched in horror, the two closest crept closer still, guns raised, fingers on the triggers.

[Kathy W 2200]

PART THIRTY-TWO




July 7, 1947, 5:05 a.m.

Pohlman Ranch



Pfc. John Fifer’s heart was racing as he moved slowly toward the craft, eyes darting left and right. He saw no movement, heard no sound. Whatever it was, it appeared to be deserted.

He lowered his gun a bit, eyes gleaming in triumph. John Fifer was one of those people who grew up always wanting to be first. Every class in every school in every town across the world has a kid like that. The one who has to be first in line for recess, or the one who shoves others out of the way to be first at lunch. Everyone likes to be first sometimes, but those of Fifer’s persuasion elevated being first to a kind of religion. His teachers had *tsked*, calling him “competitive” and “antisocial” on his grade reports. He’d spent a lot of time in the offices of various principals. But John Fifer had learned something interesting upon finally graduating from high school two years late: The very behaviors that schools found so offensive were not only tolerated but encouraged by the Army. He had thrived there, a perfect place for his aggressive nature and incessant desire to claw his way to the top of whatever heap in which he found himself. Pfc. John Fifer was going places.

So no one was surprised when Fifer volunteered for this special mission, born of Captain Cavitt’s sleepless night and his growing suspicion that the grumpy civilian they’d brought along with them wouldn’t cooperate. Cavitt had handpicked four teams of four men each to fan out over the ranch an hour in advance of the time they planned to move out. The men were to look for….well, the Captain hadn’t been terribly clear on what exactly they were looking for, admonishing them only to “report anything the least bit unusual”.

And this definitely qualified as unusual. Oh, boy, does it, Fifer thought, grinning. He’d heard whispers about a Russian plane, but this was no plane; something this shape could never fly. He wasn’t sure what it was, but he was sure that he, Pfc. John Fifer, was going to go on the record as the one who discovered it. He would make certain of that.

“What is that?” Private Spade called from behind him.

“Shh!” Fifer chastised. Beside him, Private McCarthy still had his gun pointed, his eyes wide as saucers. “McCarthy! Don’t freak out on me, man!” Fifer commanded in a warning voice.

“No, sir,” McCarthy replied, but his voice was shaking.

“Shouldn’t we radio for reinforcements?” Spade called from behind.

“No!” Fifer barked. The last thing he needed was the entire deployment scurrying all over this thing before he’d had a chance to check it out. They’d steal all the glory. “I’ll check it out first.”

“John, we don’t have any idea what the hell that thing is,” protested Pfc. Belmont, standing next to Spade. “It could be dangerous. We should call for back-up.”

“Of course it could be dangerous!” Fifer snapped. “That’s why we’re soldiers! We take care of the dangerous stuff so Ma and Pa Kettle can go about their business. That’s our job. Now hush up! I want a better look at this thing.”

Fifer slowly crept closer, McCarthy close behind him, while Belmont and Spade remained behind on the hill. The craft was damaged, debris strewn all around it, and there were several holes visible in its hull. Ahead was what looked like an official opening, a doorway of some sort, and inside, Fifer could just barely see….something.

“Look at this stuff,” McCarthy breathed, looking down at his feet. Fifer glanced down. McCarthy had stepped on a piece of the debris which crumpled beneath his weight, only to straighten out when he lifted his foot.

McCarthy and Fifer looked at each other, and for the first time, the thought occurred to John Fifer that maybe, just maybe, the time had come when he’d bitten off more than he could chew. McCarthy had already reached that conclusion. He started backing away. “We should leave, sir. We need to contact the Captain and get more men out here.”

“Stay put. That’s an order,” Fifer said firmly. “We were sent to scout the area for anything unusual, and I’d call this unusual. Wouldn’t you, McCarthy?”

McCarthy swallowed. “Oh, yes. Yes, sir. Definitely unusual. Which is why we shouldn’t attempt inspection alone.”

“Negative. We’re going to get as much information as possible before reporting back to our superiors. Those were our orders.”

“With all due respect sir,” called Spade, “our orders were to locate anything unusual, not inspect it.”

Fifer turned and gave Spade a withering look. “Are you questioning my orders?”

Spade hesitated a good long while before answering. “Yes, sir, I am. It seems you’re stepping outside your bounds.”

Fifer cursed silently. That little weasel would have to say that in front of the other two. And the other two would vouch for him; it would go on the record. Time to play hardball.

“Fine,” he said to Spade. “Be a weenie. Go running back to daddy and tell him you can’t handle the big jobs. We real soldiers will stay and get the job done.”

Fifer held Spade’s gaze until Spade finally dropped his eyes, silently capitulating. Fifer turned back toward the craft, confident in his supremacy, at least for the moment. He and McCarthy resumed their stealthy trek toward the craft.

The radio Spade carried in his backpack abruptly crackled. A voice floated out asking for an update on their progress. Spade seized the opportunity; his overeager commander didn’t want him to contact base camp, but if base camp contacted him…well, then, that wasn’t his fault. He grabbed the radio handset. “Base, this is Team Beta, reporting a large……”

He never got any further. The radio popped and went dead, as if an invisible plug had been pulled.

The tension amongst the four heightened. Even Fifer looked unnerved. All four swung their heads toward the hatch-looking part of the saucer craft. Spade and Belmont were too far away, but Fifer and McCarthy were now close enough to see. To see just inside the opening, where something glowed.

And something else moved.



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



Dee looked helplessly around as she watched the soldiers advance, but there was nowhere to hide, no one to help them. Unlike those men, she knew exactly why their radio had fizzled. Take the hint, she begged silently. Leave. If they went back now, she and Valeris might have time to get out of there.

No such luck. The two closest soldiers pressed on, although one looked decidedly unhappy. Closer. Closer. They were only a few yards from the hatch now. She watched, holding her breath, as the soldiers closed the distance between themselves and the hatch.

Abruptly, the soldiers stopped. “Something moved,” Soldier #1 said tensely. “Did you see it?”

“Yeah, I saw it,” Soldier #2 breathed. “Should we tell it to come out with its hands up? Assuming it has any,” he added, in a weak attempt at humor.

Soldier #1 abruptly raised his gun higher, finger on the trigger. The other soldier jerked his eyes sideways, obviously not expecting this. “Fifer, what the hell are you doing?” Soldier # 2 hissed. “Nothing’s attacked us!”

“I’m not going to let it,” Fifer replied grimly.

Suddenly their weapons were torn from their hands by an invisible force which flung them sideways several yards away, coming to rest straight ahead of Dee. There was an audible gasp from the now weapon-less soldiers, while the two on the hillside gaped. Then Fifer, a look of fury in his eyes, lunged forward toward the ship.

Blinding light shot from the hatch. A hand emerged from the glow, planting itself firmly on Fifer’s chest, right below his shoulder. He screamed, and the smell of burning flesh filled the air.

Only a step behind, Soldier #2 moved toward whatever it was inside the hatch, his face a mask of terror. Another hand shot out, catching him on the shoulder; his face contorted for one agonizing silent moment before his scream joined the first.

Huddled beside the hull, Dee clapped her hands over her ears to cover the horrible sounds of men dying and breathed through her mouth to avoid the smell. This was what her father and her uncle had seen. This was why her father still had nightmares, why her uncle had killed himself. All the newspapers she had filched, all the conversations she had overheard couldn’t even begin to describe the nightmare unfolding right in front of her.

The soldiers on the hillside, who had been watching transfixed, found their wits. One of them raised his gun and fired. A third scream joined the other two, a high-pitched, piercing sound. An unearthly sound.

The hands abruptly disappeared. Two bodies slumped to the ground. Silence descended on the little tableau. The soldiers on the hill waited a moment, but nothing moved. They advanced slowly, weapons ready.

When they reached their fallen comrades, one of them checked both of the bodies, while the other held his gun trained on the hatch. “They’re dead,” he whispered. He turned to the gunman. “What did you see?”

“A glowing figure. Or maybe two glowing figures. I couldn’t tell.” He gestured toward the craft. “Check inside. I’ll cover you.”

The soldier crept silently toward the hatch and stopped short. “What the hell are those?” he said in a strangled voice.

“What? What do you see?” demanded the gunman.

“They look like…..sacs of some sort. And….and they’re glowing too.

“Try the radio again,” ordered the gunman.

The soldier fumbled for the radio in his backpack with shaking hands. “Base, this is Team Beta reporting. Do you copy?” No answer. “Base, this is Team Beta. We have two men down, do you copy?” He waited a moment, then turned to the gunman. “Nothing.”

The gunman hesitated only a moment longer. “All right, let’s go. Go! GO!,” he barked, backing away from the ship. The two of them backed up the hill, weapons ready all the way, then disappeared over the top, their footsteps growing fainter as they ran.

They didn’t see the horrified child, her hand now clamped over her mouth, creeping out from around the curve of the saucer.




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




After leaning a sac against the newly constructed wall that hid the Granolith, Jaddo sat down heavily on the floor, his back against the wall, eyes closed. He was exhausted. The last few days had taken their toll, and much as he hated to admit it, his fatigue was beginning to affect him. Thank goodness they were almost done.

The door grated open and Brivari entered, the other sac floating gracefully in front of him. He allowed it to drift gently to the floor, then began inspecting the other sacs lined up against the wall, pulsing and glowing in a reassuring way.

“There are only two more,” Jaddo said, eyes still closed. “Then we’re finished.” He paused. “The human was useful.”

“His name is David Proctor,” Brivari replied, still examining the sacs.

Jaddo rolled his head sideways and opened an eye. “I’ll have to be certain to use his appropriate title,” he said, though without his usual sarcasm. He didn’t have the energy for that. “Honestly, you’re as bad as Urza.”

“You could show some courtesy,” Brivari commented. “He did us an enormous favor.”

“That he did,” Jaddo allowed. “Perhaps I misjudged this particular human. David Proctor,” he added quickly, seeing Brivari’s warning look.

“Like it or not, we will need humans to survive, Jaddo.”

“Hopefully we’ll need them as little as possible,” Jaddo said acerbically. He looked again at Brivari, who was still hunched over one of the sacs. “Why are you staring at that? Is something wrong?” When Brivari didn’t answer, Jaddo climbed wearily to his feet and trudged over. “We lost another one, didn’t we?”

But Brivari was smiling when he looked up. “Look at this,” he said, pointing. Jaddo followed his gaze to the long lines, one vertical, one horizontal, that bisected the sac, dividing it into four sections.

“What about it?” Jaddo asked.

“It’s starting to split,” Brivari said. Jaddo peered more closely. The lines were actually fissures developing in the sac. If they became deep enough, it looked as though the sac would split into four separate pieces.

“Is that good? Is that supposed to happen?”

“Valeris said this would happen,” Brivari said with satisfaction. “Each sac will split into four pods. It has to do with maturity. The glowing fluid is also a sign of maturity; it keeps the hybrids warm.”

Jaddo yawned. “This is a fascinating science lesson, but if this was expected, why is it making you so happy?”

“Because it means the hybrids are further along than Valeris had thought they would be at this point in time. Even though they were removed from their incubators early, their chances of survival just increased.” Brivari stood up and gazed at all the sacs, each pulsing, glowing, and quivering with tiny heartbeats. “I think we made it, Jaddo. I think they’re going to be all right. I think we’re going to be all right. Perhaps our luck has finally changed.”

“I certainly hope so,” Jaddo said, yawning again. “That is wonderful news, but I can’t keep my eyes open.” He sat down again, leaning against the wall for support. “I’m going to nap until the human—excuse me, David Proctor—comes back with the last two sacs. Join me, if you want to. Urza will have Valeris this time to help him.”

Brivari was still staring at the pods, smiling broadly. “There’s another one splitting!” he said with delight, as Jaddo yawned again. “I can’t wait until Valeris sees this!”




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




Dee waited until she was sure the soldiers were gone, then cautiously crept forward. The bodies of the two soldiers lay on the grass, each graced by a silvery handprint where Valeris had touched them. She’d never seen a dead body before, not even her Uncle James. These two looked peaceful, almost asleep. Only the glaring silver handprints on their chests and the acrid odor of burned flesh marred the illusion. He killed them, was her first thought, followed by, but he had to. He tried to make them go away. He broke their radios and took their guns. What else could he have done? They would have killed him.

Dee turned to the hatch. The large glowy things that they had been putting in her father’s car were close to the opening. And beyond them lay something else. Something small, something unlike anything she’d ever seen before.

Leaning against the hull of the ship, Dee took several deep breaths. Her heart was pounding and she was shaking; she held her hand in front of her face and tried to hold it still, but she couldn’t. She needed to go in there. Valeris was her friend, and he probably needed help, but she was terrified of what she would find in there. Terrified to see them as they really were. Terrified because he might be dead. And he called me ‘brave’, Dee thought guiltily. She wondered what he’d think of her now.

Bravery is a conscious choice, a decision you make that something else is more important than your fear. Recalling Valeris’s words to her only a few hours before put everything in perspective. Which was more important—her fear, or her friend? Viewed that way, her conflict was no conflict at all.

I can do this, she coaxed herself. So they looked different—so what? Acting like this just because they looked different made no more sense than everyone picking on Nadine Jones because her skin was dark. Valeris hadn’t refused to help her because she looked different. She owed him this.

She turned back to the hatch. She was going to climb in there and see what was what. If they had the guts to go into her world, then certainly she should have the guts to go into theirs.

Shaking badly, Dee boosted herself up into the hatch and moved toward the shape on the floor. She closed her eyes; if she couldn’t control what she saw, at least she could control when she saw it. She went forward a bit more and then stopped, pulling her knees up to her chest. She took a few more deep breaths on the outside chance that would do any good, and slowly opened her eyes.

Dee looked for a full minute before mentally passing judgment. They’re not so bad, she decided. At least they had all the main parts humans did: Arms, legs, head, body. They were only about her height, maybe shorter, and their heads were huge in proportion to the rest of them, with large, slanted eyes. Their mouths were very small—no wonder they liked soft food. It didn’t look like many teeth would fit in there. And they were gray.

And naked. This came as something of a shock, as Dee raked her eyes over the body in front of her that didn’t seem to have anything that needed covering. There was a hole in the chest with some fluid oozing out that looked black. The eyes were closed, and it appeared unconscious.

Not “it”—“he”, she chastised herself fiercely. This was a friend of hers, even if he didn’t look like he normally did. She tried to remember the first aid class they’d had in school, but she wasn’t certain it was going to be of much help in this situation. That hadn’t covered first aid for aliens.

Dee bent her head sideways and looked at the chest. It was rising and falling, which was good news if they breathed like humans did. The black stuff was probably their blood, and the wound didn’t appear to be bleeding right now. But wounds should be covered, and as she looked around her for something to use, her eye fell on a pouch nearby.

She’d seen that before. Valeris had put those rocks in that pouch the night they’d healed her, those glowy rocks they had all been holding when she’d first woken up in the woods behind the school. Would those help him now?

Reaching across Valeris, which wasn’t hard because he was so small, Dee grabbed the pouch and opened it. Inside were several of the rocks, none of them glowing. She pulled one of them out and examined it; it was part milky white, part amber colored, and it fit neatly in the palm of her hand. She turned it this way and that, but there was nothing to indicate how it should be used. They really should make alien rocks with ‘on’ switches, she thought ruefully, cupping the rock in her hands. And directions.

And then something wonderful happened. As she stared in astonishment, the rock began to glow. It glowed brighter and brighter, and beside her, the small gray body stirred. One eye flickered open, then closed again. “Valeris?” Dee whispered. “Can you hear me?” But the stone stopped glowing, and Valeris did not move.

She rearranged her legs, closed her eyes, and prepared to try again. Whatever had happened had looked good, and somehow she had caused it. Maybe you had to concentrate. She cupped the stone and thought very hard about Valeris getting better.

It worked. This time the hole in his chest got noticeably smaller, and he moved again, twitching his arms and legs and rolling his head from side to side. But each time she stopped to look, each time she stopped concentrating, the stone would stop glowing, and he stopped getting better. She needed to keep going longer.

Feeling better now that she had a way to help, she closed her eyes and prepared to try again.

A blast of wind shattered her concentration as something shot past her through the hatch. Startled, she dropped the rock and pressed herself back against the wall, looking for whatever had come inside. At first she couldn’t see anything, but as she peered into the dark passageway across from her, a face loomed. A human face.

James. He spoke only one word.

<RUN!>




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





Rough hands shook Mac awake, and he instinctively pulled away from them. Opening his eyes, he found himself staring into the very unhappy face of Captain Cavitt, a grim-looking Major Marcel, and several equally grim-looking soldiers behind. “What is it?” he said, rubbing his eyes and looking at his watch. “You said six o’clock.”

“There’s been a change of plans,” Cavitt said. “We’re leaving immediately. Get up.”

Mac looked from one face to another, a feeling of dread growing within him. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong, Mr. Brazel, is that four of my men found something on this ranch only minutes ago. Two of them are now dead. I hope the two of you are pleased with yourselves,” he added, with a dark look at Marcel.

“Pleased with myself about what? How is this my fault?” Mac demanded, rising to his feet.

“If you’d taken us to the area where you’d found the debris last night like I asked you to, maybe this wouldn’t have happened!”

“And if you’d left when you said you would with all your men instead of sending out just a few, maybe this wouldn’t have happened,” Mac retorted angrily, jabbing his finger at Cavitt. “Don’t you dare lay this at my feet! You jumped the gun.”

It was clear from the murderous glances passing between Marcel and Cavitt that they had already had this argument. “I am holding both of you responsible for the deaths of those boys,” Cavitt said stonily.

“Wonderful,” Mac snapped. “Blame your mistakes on someone else.”

Cavitt’s face contorted. Dropping all pretense of self-control, he lunged at Mac. It had been years since Mac had been in the Army, but he was a big guy, and he wasn’t afraid of a fight. When Cavitt went for him, Mac was ready, and the two would have rolled on the floor had not Marcel pulled them apart.

“Gentlemen,” Marcel hissed, wearing an expression that left little doubt he thought neither of them deserved the title. “Please. Mr. Brazel, please get ready—we’re leaving in five minutes. Captain, I believe you have better things to do than beating up civilians, don’t you?”

Cavitt gave Marcel a withering look, but he left, the other soldiers trailing after him.

“Why do you put up with that prick?” Mac asked Marcel as he reached for his pants. “You outrank him.”

“Captain Cavitt has been placed in charge of this investigation,” Marcel said stiffly. “It will go better for both of us if we learn to get along with him.”

Mac yanked his shoes out from under the cot. “Don’t be a damned fool, Marcel. You don’t ‘get along’ with people like Cavitt. You either get out of their way or you get stepped on. Unless you’re smart enough to step on them first.”

Major Marcel hesitated a moment as if about to say something, but didn’t. He turned to leave.

“Major?” Mac called. “What did those boys find?”

Marcel stopped, still facing the door. “They said they found a saucer-shaped craft.”

Mac sighed and put his head in his hands as Marcel’s footsteps died away in the hallway. So you were right after all, Dee, he thought sadly. They found your spaceship.




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





“Run? Run where?” Dee asked when she had found her voice again. “I’m not going anywhere, James! We have to help him before those soldiers come back!”

<Too late,> James said shortly. <Your soldiers are already on their way.>

“They couldn’t be,” Dee argued. “I don’t care how fast those two were running, they couldn’t have made it back by now. And Valeris broke their radio. They can’t call for help.”

<They met up with other soldiers who had a communication device,> James said. <There is movement in the camp. They will be here within minutes. Listen to me,> he said urgently, taking her by the shoulders. <There is not enough time for me to rescue the hybrids. There is no cover to speak of for miles. My only hope is to heal Valeris so he can hide us within this ship and await the help of the others. But you could get away. If you start running now they are unlikely to find you. All their attention will be focused here.>

“Can I help fix him?” Dee asked.

<Go, now,> James ordered. <I do not have time to stand here arguing with you!>

“You didn’t answer my question,” Dee persisted. “I asked if I could help fix him.”

<Did you not hear me?!> James exploded. <Your soldiers are coming; they will be here in only a few minutes! This is not your fight.>

Dee had shrunk back against the wall when James had yelled at her. The closest he’d ever been to being upset was in the grocery store when he’d asked her not to answer the Sheriff’s question about where she’d seen their ship, and even that didn’t exactly qualify as “upset”. He’d certainly never lost his temper, or even been mildly irritated.

But his last words ignited her stubborn streak. Why, oh why, was everyone always telling her this was not her fight? They were her friends, weren’t they? She had helped them willingly, without request or pressure. And they had helped her too. It was her decision as to whether this was “her” fight or not.

Dee folded her arms across her chest and remained rooted to the spot. “I asked you if I could help, and you still haven’t answered me. I’m not budging until you do,” she said in a stubborn voice.

James uttered something that sounded like an alien swear word in her head. <Why do I always find myself arguing logic with females who have none?> he raged, more to himself than to Dee. <Do you have any idea what they’ll do to you if they find you here?>

“No, I don’t,” Dee admitted, trying to keep her voice calm. “But I know the answer to my question. I used this,” she said, picking up the healing rock and holding it out to him. “It glowed in my hand, and Valeris started to wake up. I can help you make him better, can’t I?” James was silent, not looking at her. She set the rock down again. “He didn’t leave me when I was hurt,” she said, looking down at Valeris. “And I’m not leaving him either, not when I can help him. I may not be logical, but I am loyal.”

James looked up at her, his expression no longer one of anger, but of infinite sadness. He stared at her for so long that Dee began to squirm under his gaze, and when he finally spoke again, his anger seemed to have drained away.

<I am taking Valeris and the hybrids back to the lab,> he said, indicating the glowing sacs. <We decided long ago that, if necessary, we would hide in the lab while Valeris made the doorway appear to be a solid wall. I cannot navigate the ship in human form, so I will need to assume my native form. You would have to come with us. And you would be trapped along with us when the soldiers arrive. I don’t know how we could get you out.>

Dee peered past James at the hallway behind him. It was small, with the ceiling not far above her own head. She looked down at the still unconscious Valeris, the hole in his chest smaller than it used to be because of her. Then she looked back at James and nodded.

“I’m ready.”

He did not argue. Her breath caught in her throat as he began to shrink. She really, really, wanted to close her eyes, but she needed to look, to get over the fear of seeing them change. She forced herself to watch as his arms and legs shriveled and his head expanded, until he stood before her in what he had called his “native form”. Now she could see their eyes, huge, slanted, and black as ink. No pupils, only black. It made them look expressionless. Soulless. But that’s not true, she thought. I know better.

<Do I frighten you?> came a quiet voice in her mind.

Dee forced the air out of her chest. “A little,” she admitted. “But not enough to make me change my mind.” She picked up the bag with the special rocks inside. “We should go.”

James nodded, and held one huge, incredibly long-fingered hand over the glowing sacs, and another over Valeris. All rose from the floor, floating in midair, and James began to steer them down the dark passageway.

<Follow me.>

Dee paused only a moment, marshalling her courage, before following him into the bowels of an alien spaceship.

[Kathy W 2200]

PART THIRTY-THREE

July 7, 1947, 5:15 a.m.

Corona, New Mexico



David Proctor pulled up alongside Sheriff George Wilcox’s car, a look of satisfaction on his face. Deputies were piling into cars and driving away; the roadblocks were obviously being disbanded. Didn’t find anything, did you boys? David thought. “Morning, George,” he called through the window, slowing as he approached. “I take it you’re leaving?”

“The Army just announced it’s closing off Pohlman Ranch to all civilian traffic,” George replied, leaning through his window. “I hope you weren’t planning to go through there. We’re off to shut down all the access roads.”

David struggled to keep his face impassive while his hands gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. “I have been driving through there,” he said, holding his voice steady with enormous effort. “What’s up?”

George hesitated, then got of his car and walked over to David’s. “They found something,” he whispered, “something out on the ranch. That’s why they’re shutting it down. And that’s not all,” he continued, oblivious to the shock in David’s eyes. “Two soldiers are dead because of what’s out there, or so I’m told.” He stood up. “Sorry, Dave. You’ll have to go around the ranch. But from what I hear, you don’t want to run into whatever’s out there anyway.”

Too late. I already have. “You saved me some time by letting me know,” David said, hoping George couldn’t hear his heart pounding. “I appreciate it.”

“Sure thing. Did you get your friend all moved out?”

“Not quite,” David answered truthfully.

“You heading back to get Dee and Emily now?”

David’s smile tightened. “Yes. Yes I am. One way or another.”

George looked at him strangely for a moment, then shrugged. “Tell them I said hello. See you later.” He climbed back into his own car and drove off.

David Proctor was a model citizen as he drove through Corona that morning. He carefully obeyed the speed limit, stopped at all the lights, and smiled at the surprising number of people who were out and about at this ridiculous hour. Anyone watching might have been surprised to see the change in him as he approached the outskirts of town, breaking into a cold sweat, pushing the accelerator all the way to the floor, and muttering “Shit!” under his breath, along with a prayer to the patron saint of the lost.



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



Pohlman Ranch



Dee tried very hard not to look as she walked down the corridor of the aliens’ ship. It was so dark there wasn’t much to see anyway, and she was grateful for that. Her feet made absolutely no sound. Granted, she was wearing sneakers, but she would have expected some noise. The ceiling wasn’t far from her head; she could reach up and touch it. But she didn’t, nor did she touch anything else. Not the ceiling, the walls, the inexplicably silent floor, or the doorway with the hole in it that James led her to, steering the floating sacs and Valeris’s limp body ahead of him.

She stepped through the broken door with trepidation. James passed his hand over something, and whatever it was began glowing, making it easier to see. She was relieved to see what looked like tiny furniture: Tables, chairs, counters, all of it small, like in a playhouse. All sized for someone her size.

James set Valeris’s body down gently on the floor. Dee sat down beside him, crossing her legs and taking the rocks out of the bag, grateful for something to do. She looked up, expecting to see James there, but he was moving the sacs into some kind of containers.

“Shouldn’t we help him first?” she asked.

<Protecting the hybrids is our first priority,> James answered, leaving Dee confused. They had so many of those sacs. She couldn’t imagine whatever was in them being more important than helping a friend, but she waited while James finished what he was doing.

When he returned, he sat down across from her, picking up one of the special rocks and handing another to her.

<Hold this in your hands and concentrate,> he instructed her.

“Concentrate on what?” Dee asked. She still wasn’t certain exactly how she had made these things work.

<Whatever you were concentrating on before,> James answered. <Whatever you did worked. Repeat it.>

She nodded, cupping the little stone in her hands. It immediately began glowing. She closed her eyes and began to think about Valeris getting better.

<Remarkable,> she heard James murmur. Encouraged, she tried to think harder.

James hadn’t started using his rock yet. She knew the moment he did, even though her eyes were closed, because she felt the energy surge through her own stone and up through her in turn. She’d never felt anything like that before, a tingling, electric sensation. Had it worked like this when they had healed her? She didn’t remember any of that.

She cracked an eyelid, and saw Valeris beginning to stir. Whatever they were doing, it was working.



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



“Over there,” Mac pointed from his seat beside Major Marcel. “That’s where……where I found the first debris.”

Marcel nodded and obligingly turned the jeep, making the convoy behind them swerve to follow them. “That’s the area indicated by the witnesses. That must be where it is.”

God, I almost blew that, Mac thought. He took off his hat and mopped his brow. The humidity was already oppressive, which did not bode well for the rest of the day. His near slip didn’t bode well either. Every single time he talked about finding those weird pieces of metal, he had to consciously leave out any mention of Dee. Whatever was out there, whatever happened, he didn’t want that little girl mixed up with it.

Marcel abruptly brought the jeep to a halt, throwing Mac forward. Behind them Captain Cavitt’s jeep screeched to a halt only inches from their bumper. “What’d you do that for?” Mac sputtered, righting himself. Then he followed Marcel’s gaze, and let out a long, low whistle.

They were still some distance away, but it was unmistakable. Huge, round, the faint light from the approaching sunrise beginning to gleam off the metallic hull. A hull which Mac was willing to bet was made of the same magic stuff he’d so unwisely brought to George’s office just yesterday. A hull which made it clear, even from this distance, that this was no Russian aircraft they were looking at. Or Russian anything, for that matter.

Cavitt climbed out of his jeep and stood beside Marcel, looking through a pair of binoculars. He passed them to Marcel, who looked for a long moment before passing them to Mac, who was surprised to find his hands were shaking as he held them to his eyes.

And there it was, right where Dee said it had been. Tucked against the hill he had climbed at such a run when she had yelled, damaged just like she’d said. That had been only four days ago when she had stood there insisting there was a spaceship. Only four days ago that he had fumed in his truck while she left half her lunch for a bird which she had later claimed was an alien. And he’d thought she was pulling his leg. He owed that kid one hell of an apology.

“Is that what you saw the other day, Mr. Brazel?” Cavitt demanded.

“No,” Mac answered truthfully. “I only found the metal fragments. I didn’t see anything like that.” And that was true—he hadn’t seen a thing. Only Dee had seen it. According to Dave, the aliens were capable of hiding things. That must have been what they were doing when she had called him to look at a ship that didn’t appear to be there.

Cavitt was staring transfixed at the craft, a mere dot in the distance without binoculars. “This is beyond a doubt the greatest threat our country has ever faced.”

Mac lowered his binoculars and looked at Cavitt. “Or the greatest opportunity.”

When Cavitt gave him a withering look, Mac continued, “Don’t you see, Captain? This is going to rewrite the history books. This could very well be the watershed event in human history, the first proof that we aren’t alone in this universe. Can you imagine what that could mean?”

“I can,” Cavitt answered tersely. “It means that we are at the mercy of a superior enemy. An enemy that has already killed, and would undoubtedly do so again. Their intentions are obviously hostile.”

“They could very well think the same thing about us,” Mac retorted, growing increasingly irritated with Cavitt’s short-sightedness. “If they’re so hostile, then why haven’t they taken us over, or attacked, or even so much as squeaked?”

“I doubt they planned to crash their ship. Obviously something went wrong,” Cavitt said confidently. “And I plan to make even more things go wrong for them as quickly as I can.”

“Captain!” Marcel said suddenly. “Look!”

Marcel was pointing in the direction opposite the craft. It took Mac a moment to see what he was looking at. The ever growing sun’s rays were illuminating a sparkling trail of...something. Hurrying over to take a look, Mac bent down and fished a piece of strange, shiny metal out of the ground, obviously the same type of metal he’d found before.

“Look at that,” Marcel breathed, head swinging left and right. Mac followed his gaze. Sparkling dots that must be more metal pieces could be seen in both directions, scattered over the ground.

“These are almost completely covered,” Marcel was saying wonderingly, pulling more shards of the strange metal out of the ground.

“All this wasn’t here a few days ago,” Mac said, staring at the glittering trail. “I had to hunt for the few pieces I found.”

“It looks as though someone buried the debris,” Marcel said thoughtfully. “The ground was soft a few days ago from all that rain we had.”

“They covered their trail,” Cavitt said flatly. He shot a look at Mac. “Still think they’re not hostile, Mr. Brazel?

The three trudged back to the jeep. Mac sat disconsolately, the soldier in him warring with the part of him that was David Proctor’s friend. Dave was no idiot. He’d come back from the war as much a cynic as the rest of them, and watching his own brother kill himself had only made things worse. If Dave was willing to hear these….people…..out, then so was Mac. But looking at the grim, suspicious faces surrounding him, it was clear that talking wasn’t on their minds.

Brace yourselves, whoever you are, Mac thought grimly. This ain’t the Welcome Wagon coming.




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



Dee sat with the glowing rock in her hand, watching with fascination. With both she and James combining their efforts, the effect on Valeris was fantastic. First he had stirred and opened his eyes, then the wound in his chest had begun to close. He appeared to be doing that himself, and the effort cost him dearly. Every so often he would stop, exhausted, only to start again as fresh energy poured in from the two next to him. Dee realized that she and James weren’t healing Valeris; Valeris was healing himself, using them as a sort of battery for the energy it must take to accomplish that.

After several tries the wound finally closed, and Valeris lay back and closed his eyes. The rocks stopped glowing. “Is something wrong?” Dee asked James, alarmed. “He’s not waking up.”

<That was a sizeable wound,> James replied. <He has repaired it, but the shock and fatigue from the injury are still present. He will need a few minutes to recover.>

That was true, Dee reflected. She herself had felt sore and dizzy for several minutes after she had awoken on the forest floor. It was hard to believe that had only been a couple of days ago.

Finally, Valeris opened his eyes. He looked first at James, who nodded, then to Dee. <I am grateful for your help. But you shouldn’t be here, little one,> came that gentle voice.

Dee was so happy to see him feeling better that she dropped her rock and gave him an enormous hug, forgetting how different he was now from the first time she had hugged him. His skin was dry and smooth, and he was so tiny it was like hugging one of her small cousins. Then she drew back in alarm, it having dawned on her that he might not be all the way better. “Did I hurt you?” she asked anxiously.

<No,> Valeris smiled. Well, not smiled exactly. Their mouths didn’t smile, not like human mouths. Their faces didn’t seem to have much in the way of muscles. Perhaps that was why they tended to have such set expressions while in human form. But they could smile with their voices, and Valeris was definitely smiling with his.

Valeris started to push himself into a sitting position, and both James and Dee helped sit him up. <Why is she still here?> he asked James, concerned. <You should have made her leave.>

<I tried,> James objected. <She insisted on staying to help. And she did. The stones respond to her touch.>

<I’m not surprised,> Valeris said. He looked around. <I take it we’re in trouble? That doesn’t surprise me either,> he added wryly. <Where are the hybrids?>

<Back in their incubators,> James said. <The soldiers began searching early. They will be here very soon. Can you deceive them as we retreat?>

<I can try,> Valeris answered. <It will depend on how close they are. If they’ve already seen the ship, then shielding it will be impossible. I can deceive them into thinking this room does not exist. That will buy us some time.>

“I made it harder for you by staying here, didn’t I?” Dee asked in a guilty voice.

Valeris turned to look at her, with those huge, black eyes that reflected her own face. <Not really. They will not be expecting to see a human child here. You will be easy to shield.> He turned to James. <You’d better go now.>

James left the room. They look funny when they walk, Dee thought as she watched him leave. The huge head, so large in proportion to the rest of their body, made them look top-heavy. “Where is he going?” she asked.

<To get Brivari and Jaddo. He can fly out in bird form and bring them back sooner than they would have come on their own. They can create a distraction so we can escape.> Valeris propped himself up against a nearby piece of furniture with obvious effort. He still looked exhausted. But his voice smiled as he said, <So. Now you see us in our true form. And what do you think of us?>

Dee hesitated. If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all was another of her grandmother’s favorite sayings. But the truth was they looked weird. Their appearance didn’t frighten her any more, and their voices sounded exactly the same inside her head, but they were funny, odd-looking little people. Their gray, hairless skin reminded her of those strange, hairless cats her aunt liked to keep.

“You look…..different,” she answered truthfully.

<So do you,> Valeris replied just as truthfully.

Dee was startled into silence for a moment. She hadn’t considered how she must look to them. Humans must look very strange indeed. “I remember James saying something about feeling like a giant. Now I see why. We must look huge to you.”

<You don’t look huge,> Valeris said, still in that smiling tone. <You’re just the right size.>

“Is that why James liked me? In the beginning, I mean. Because I was his size?”

<No,> Valeris said softly. <He liked you because you remind him of someone he used to know. >




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



Captain Cavitt and Major Marcel stood over the bodies of the two fallen soldiers with grim expressions on their faces. As Mac approached, he saw strange silver handprints on their chests which looked as though they had burned right through their uniforms. Two soldiers arrived carrying the fallen soldiers’ guns, found lying several yards away.

“Neither weapon was fired, sir,” one of them said. “Witnesses said two glowing figures within the craft somehow pulled their weapons out of their hands even though they were several feet away, and that’s when Private Fifer charged the craft.”

Well, that fits. Mac had seen enough of John Fifer to know that he was a Cavitt wannabe, a “shoot first and ask questions later” type. Supposedly it was Fifer who had insisted on pressing forward after the others had futilely protested advancing on the craft without backup. Idiot, Mac thought sourly.

Cavitt responded in predictable fashion. “Tell the men to shoot anything that moves,” he ordered. The soldiers nodded and left.

“Is that wise?” Mac called behind him.

Cavitt and Marcel both turned to look at him, the latter with a puzzled expression, the former looking furious. “Whatever is in that thing is obviously a killer,” Cavitt said, indicating the bodies. “Not to mention the greatest threat to national security, hell, even global security, that ever existed. I should think even you would be able to figure that out, Mr. Brazel.”

“Yeah. Right. And the greatest career maker of all time, isn’t that right Cavitt?” Mac responded sarcastically. Marcel shot him a warning glance, which he ignored. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe the ‘shoot anything that moves’ bit was what got these two killed in the first place? I don’t know about you, but when I was in the war, if someone came at me with a weapon raised, I assumed they meant to harm me. And acted accordingly.”

“I’m terribly sorry, but the concept of self defense doesn’t exist for space aliens,” Cavitt said. “My orders stand.” He stalked away.

Mac looked at the faces around him, each bearing the unmistakable stamp of one emotion: Fear. He knew from experience that frightened people are not rational. A group of frightened people was a mob. Give that mob guns and they call it an army, he thought ruefully.

“Major,” Mac said, turning to Major Marcel, “you’re going to have to rein these people in. They’re panicking. They’re as likely to shoot each other as anything else. Cavitt won’t do it—he’s feeding the fire. It’ll have to be you.”

“I’m afraid I agree with the Captain, Mr. Brazel,” Marcel said. “Whatever is—or was—inside that craft killed two of our men this morning. I’m not prepared to assume anything but hostility on their part.”

Mac shook his head in exasperation. “Shouldn’t we at least try to talk to them? Don’t we want to know what they’re up to? How can we do that if we kill them all? Do you really think shooting visitors is a good way to handle this?”

As if on cue, shots rang out, causing every head to snap sideways. “Something moved in there!” a soldier shouted, waving his gun wildly, as everyone, Mac and Marcel included, surrounded the opening in the craft.




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



Urza had not been surprised to see the soldiers outside the ship. He had taken his favorite hawk form and waited patiently for what had seemed like a break in their attention to fly from the hatch. He never made it.

The bullets slammed into him, knocking him back against the wall and, fortuitously, into the darkness of the interior. Quickly, before the shock of what had happened could take hold, he began shifting to his native form. He could think better in that form; he would be better able to repair his injuries. Halfway there the pain kicked in, causing him to convulse and shift spasmodically. In between spasms, he concentrated on closing the bullet holes and managed to at least slow the bleeding. Consciousness began to slip away, and the last thing Urza saw before closing his eyes was Earth’s sun, rising from the edge of the horizon in a spectacular burst of color.

David Proctor was right, he reflected. The sunrise is beautiful.

[Kathy W 2200]

PART THIRTY-FOUR


July 7, 1947, 6:00 a.m.

Pohlman Ranch


The noise of the shots rang through the ship, sounding incredibly loud in Dee’s ears as she broke into a cold sweat. Beside her Valeris collapsed, his huge head sinking down onto his tiny chest, falling into what seemed like a trance. For a brief moment Dee thought Valeris had been shot; then she realized he was probably mentally shielding this room from the soldiers who were obviously right outside.

Dee scrambled up from her seat on the floor and ran for the door. They had turned right to enter this room, so she turned left and pounded down the hallway, which seemed much longer than it had the last time she’d been this way. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, so she could barely see the way ahead. Incredibly her feet still made no sound, even though she was running.

She followed the circular hallway around until she could see light pouring in from the hatch. She slowed as she approached, creeping quietly, listening.

Nothing. Silence. A hush had descended on whoever was out there, as though they were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Inside, on the floor, just out of reach of the light from the hatch, was….something. A lump which kept shifting, changing, melting and reforming itself. As Dee watched, horrified, it briefly looked like a bird, then like a man, then…something else she couldn’t identify. It would rest for few seconds in each of these forms, then stiffen and shake as though having a seizure, and change once more. As it cycled again, it settled into what had now become a familiar form: Large head, small body, impossibly long fingers.

James.

Dee leaned back against the wall, staring at him, her hand over her mouth. Now she could see his wounds. There were several, far more than the lone bullet hole Valeris had had to fight. And he was bleeding, or at least she thought he was; there was something that looked like black oil on his chest. For a moment, Dee thought she was going to be sick.

Sound from outside brought her to her senses. A collective shuffling, a movement toward the ship. She had to get him out of here before he was discovered. And that meant she would have to touch him, and her hands might get all bloody, and …..oh, she didn’t think she could do that.

A beam of light abruptly pierced the darkness. Someone was shining a flashlight into the open hatch, looking for whatever they thought they’d seen. It swept to the left first, moving carefully over the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Then it moved to the center in that same, deliberate sweeping motion. And when it moved right, it would find…….

Without thinking, Dee lunged forward and grabbed James by the ankles, pulling him back out of the reach of the flashlight. For a split second the beam raked her face before she moved out of its path. Then the light was gone, and she was pulling James with her into the blackness, toward the room she had come from.



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



“Move back!” Cavitt shouted, shouldering his way through the men. “Back!” The crowd reluctantly parted to let him through. “Who fired?” he demanded.

“I did, sir,” answered a lieutenant in a shaky voice. “I saw something.”

“So did I,” piped up another soldier.

Cavitt’s eyes adopted a hungry expression. “What did you see?”

“I think it was a….a bird, sir,” the lieutenant said hesitantly.

“No, it was this little gray thing, with a big head and big eyes,” countered the second soldier.

“I thought it looked like a little girl,” said another in a wondering voice.

The floodgates opened and argument ensued. No one could agree on what they had seen, with each pushing passionately for their particular version of events. A thorough sweep of the opening with flashlights yielded nothing. Finally Cavitt gave up. He reiterated his order to shoot anything unusual on sight, and began organizing various teams to explore the interior and exterior of the ship.

No one consulted the civilian in their midst, the one man who knew exactly what they had seen, who knew that each and every one of them was right. The man who had heard stories of people who could change their shapes to that of birds, and who had recognized the face that had flashed by for just an instant. Mac Brazel stood there listening to Cavitt repeat his order to shoot to kill, and realized that the stakes had now risen to impossible heights.



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



Chaves County Sheriff’s Station




Sheriff George Wilcox shook his head as he turned down the volume on the police radio. The latest word from the army had confirmed his earlier suspicions: The world had gone mad. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d been up literally all night, searching trucks for God knows what and cars for God knows who.

He drained the last of the coffee from his cup and grimaced; cold. He hated cold coffee. Even on what was clearly going to be a sweltering day, he still hated cold coffee. Heading for the coffee pot near the front desk, George spied David Proctor striding through the doors of the station, a look of grim determination on his face.

“George, I need your help,” David called down the hallway, not even bothering to wait until he’d reached the Sheriff at the other end.

“What’s wrong?” George asked, picking up the coffee pot and checking to see if it was hot.

“I need to get out to Pohlman Ranch,” David said firmly, “and it’s completely closed down.”

“Not completely,” George countered, pouring himself a cup. “Just the northern section where the Army is at the moment.”

“I know. That’s where I need to go. Now.”

George sighed and reached for the sugar. “Dave, I know it’ll take longer, but you’ll just have to go around. Like I said earlier, they found something out there. They understandably don’t want a horde of people standing around gaping.”

David stepped in closer and lowered his voice. “Dee is out there, George.”

George’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you said Dee was with Emily.”

“I lied,” David said shortly. “Emily is visiting her sister, but Dee isn’t with her. She’s on the ranch. She’s been there all night, right where the Army is now. And I’m going to get up there, one way or another.”

“What would your eight year-old daughter be doing on Pohlman Ranch in the middle of the night?” George asked incredulously.

“Believe it or not, it was the safest place to leave her.”

“I don’t believe it,” George said firmly. He pressed the cup of hot coffee into David’s hands. “Here. You take this. I know we’ve both been up all night, but it seems you need it more than I do.” He poured himself a second cup. “I love your sense of humor, but if you’ll observe me very closely, you’ll notice I’m not laughing.”

David set the cup down impatiently. “Observe me closely; neither am I,” he responded sternly, and George realized he was right. David looked tense, exhausted, and…..frightened. For the first time, George noticed the fear in his friend’s eyes. But fear or no fear, he wasn’t making sense.

“You’re acting crazy, Dave. There’s no earthly reason why Dee would be in the middle of that ranch all night. Doesn’t make sense. If you want me to keep listening to this, start making sense.”

David gave him a level stare as if assessing his competence. “All right. You said they found something out on the ranch, right?”

“Right.”

“I know what they found.”

“You couldn’t know,” George responded, sipping his coffee. “I only heard the first reports myself a few minutes ago, and boy, were they doozies.”

“I know because I was there. They found a saucer-shaped craft crashed on the ranch, made out of the same stuff that Mac brought you just yesterday.”

George stopped sipping. Several heads nearby turned. Grabbing David by the arm, George hauled him into his office as people watched curiously. “Keep your voice down!” George hissed, closing the door behind them. “The last thing I need is for some crazy story like that to get out and cause a public panic!”

“It’s not a crazy story, George,” David insisted. “It’s true. There’s an alien spaceship crashed on the ranch. Just like Dee said there was.”

George paused for a moment, remembering. Mac had told him that Dee said she’d seen a spaceship, but Dee herself had denied it, claiming she was just pulling his leg. “And along with this alien spaceship comes….aliens?” George asked in a deeply skeptical voice. David nodded. “And what’s your involvement in all this? I take it you weren’t helping a friend move last night?”

“I was,” David said carefully. “I was helping them move off their ship. The Army was coming, and they weren’t quite finished.”

“I see,” George said slowly. “And that woman sitting next to you last night….was she an…..an alien?” David nodded again. “Really? That’s what they look like?”

“They can change their shapes; I have no idea what they really look like,” David said impatiently.

“They can change their shapes,” George echoed. “To a woman with an hourglass figure? Hubba, hubba.”

“What difference does that make?!” David exploded. “You’re missing the point! Dee is up there, and I have to get her out of there! God, she could be….” he stopped and put his hand over his mouth, closing his eyes, composing himself with obvious effort.

George studied him closely. David Proctor, unlike some others he knew, had returned from the war whole. More sober, perhaps, and with a bit of an edge to him, but with his mind and spirit intact. He was clearly very upset, but George didn’t believe for a moment that space aliens had upset him. Still, why would he make up such a harebrained story? If one were going to dissemble, wouldn’t one choose something the listener would be likely to believe?

“Okay. Have it your way,” George said carefully, as if he were afraid David might self-destruct at any moment. “If you say so, there are aliens and an alien spaceship out on Pohlman Ranch as we speak. But you still haven’t answered my question, the one most important question I have. I know you—I know you would never willingly put your daughter in harms way. Why in the name of all that’s holy would you leave Dee with a bunch of aliens while you ran around playing moving company?”

“I told you,” David said, struggling to keep his voice calm. “It was the safest place at the time, the one place nobody was looking. Yet. I was afraid the Army would be looking for Dee, afraid that Mac would tell them what she’d seen. You were afraid of that yourself; you told me to go somewhere else for the night. We thought we had time because the Army wasn’t moving until 6 a.m. They must have set out early, and we weren’t quite done.”

George stared at David in alarm. “How did you know they were moving at 6 a.m.? No one else knew that but the Army and me. Even my own men didn’t know that.”

“The aliens knew that. And if the Army had stuck to its original schedule this never would have happened. We would have been long gone, and they could have picked the ship apart to their heart’s content.”

George stared at David. His friend obviously needed help; the only question was, which kind of help? His help, or the kind of help only a psychiatrist could give?

“Look, George,” David said in a calmer tone, “I know this sounds crazy. I know you’re thinking I’m crazy. But there’s an easy way to settle this. Take me out to the ranch. Only a patrol car is going to get through the roadblocks. I need you to get me out there. I’ve tried every back way I can think of, and they’re all blocked off. Think of Dee. Do it for her. You don’t have to believe me, you just have to help me. Take me up there and see for yourself, and then you can decide if I’m crazy. Just help me get her out of there.”

George nodded slowly and rose from his desk, coffee forgotten. “Just tell me one thing,” he said, as he reached for his hat. “Who exactly is it you’re afraid of? The aliens? Or our guys?”

“Frankly?” David said softly. “Both.”



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



Pohlman Ranch



Dee pulled James along, walking backwards, looking for the door to the room she’d come from. She didn’t know how long she had before soldiers began storming the ship. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her breathing coming in gasps. James wasn’t heavy, but every few seconds he’d convulse and start shifting, and Dee found herself holding on to something she didn’t want to look at. And didn’t look at. She just kept walking, kept pulling, kept looking for that doorway, all the while being very careful not to look down at what it was she had in her hands.

Coming to an abrupt halt, it dawned on her that she had gone too far. A nearby doorway loomed, but it was not the doorway she was looking for, and she knew they hadn’t passed any other rooms on the way to the one where Valeris was now. Puzzled, she stopped and peered through the gloom.

Valeris. Of course. That was it; he was hiding the door like he said he would. Unfortunately, that meant he was also hiding it from her.

Dee risked a glance downward. James looked like himself at the moment; his alien self, that is. She set his skinny legs down gently and looked him over as carefully as she could in the dark hallway. He was unconscious, but the wounds were no longer bleeding, and he was breathing. “Just a few minutes more, and then Valeris and I can use those rocks on you,” she whispered to him.

She walked up and down the hallway, looking for anything that might even remotely suggest a doorway. There was nothing; Valeris was very good at what he did. What should she do? She couldn’t just stand here in the hallway; the soldiers could be here any minute. Leaning against the wall of the ship, Dee looked helplessly from side to side, desperately wishing her father were here. He would know what to do.

But her father was not here; she was on her own. Dee forced herself to take deep breaths, managing to calm herself down a little. Think, Deanna, she scolded herself. Standing here feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to help anyone. Least of all you.

Okay—how to find a door you knew was there, but couldn’t see? Close your eyes, of course. If you couldn’t see it, your eyes were useless anyway, and would only mislead you. She remembered a schoolmate who was blind saying she could “see with her hands”. It was time for Dee to do the same.

She walked to the wall that she knew held the doorway, shut her eyes, and began moving down the hallway, running her hands along the wall as she went. She didn’t have far to go. About a dozen feet from where she’d left James, she nearly fell into the room she was looking for. Opening her eyes, she was treated to the amazing sight of her hands passing through what looked like a solid wall.

Dee took her sneaker off and left it near the doorway to mark the spot, then headed back for James. For a moment she faltered at the prospect of walking through a wall, but she solved that problem by turning around, handily avoiding having to watch herself walk through what looked like solid metal.

She was in! Thank God, she thought. She pulled James around to where Valeris sat, still slumped against the counter-like thing. He would have to drop the illusion to help her heal James, but there was no way around that; she doubted she could do it on her own. Hopefully it would take just a few minutes. She raised a hand to touch Valeris…..and jumped, as another hand with incredibly long, gray fingers closed around her own, preventing her from touching him.

<Do not disturb him,> whispered a voice in her mind. <He must continue the deception.>

Dee looked down. James was awake, those huge black eyes looking at her, expressionless. “But I have to,” she objected. “He has to help me heal you.”

<No,> James said firmly. <He must protect our Wards. They take priority.> When her puzzled expression made it clear she did not understand, he raised one of those very long fingers and pointed it toward the containers in which he had placed the two remaining glowing sacs.

“But James, you have lots of those sacs. And the soldiers aren’t in the ship yet. Why can’t he stop for just a minute and help me fix you?”

<We protect. That’s what we do,> James responded, in a noticeably weaker voice; talking was sapping the little strength he had left. Dee remembered only a few days ago, when he had said those same words to Mr. Chambers: “I protect. It’s what I do.” But at the expense of his own life? “James, I know whatever’s in there is important to you. But you’re important too. I think we have a few minutes. Just let me wake him up so we can try.”

<No,> James protested again. <Valeris is weak from his own injury. He might not be able to produce the deception again if we stop him now. We cannot take that risk.> She opened her mouth to protest, but James held up a huge hand. <We are not important; they are important. Any of us would die to protect our Wards. It is our duty.>

“But only if you have to,” Dee argued, beginning to panic. Everything had gone so wrong so fast, and it just kept getting worse. “And you don’t have to, not if you let me wake him up. The more time we spend arguing about it, the less time we have to actually do it.”

<You cannot disturb him,> James repeated, <but I would be grateful for any assistance you could offer.>

Dee bit her lip and reached for one of the special stones. It immediately began to glow in her hand. She hadn’t been able to help Valeris much all by herself, but that was before she knew what she was capable of. Maybe she could help James by herself now, at least enough so he could hold out until help came.

“I’ll try,” she said uncertainly, cupping the glowing stone in her hands, and closing her eyes, feeling him pull on her energy to begin healing himself.



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



Private Spade hesitated before hoisting himself up into the alien ship. Major Marcel had protested when he had volunteered for this job, but Captain Cavitt had overruled him. Something had killed Spade’s buddies, and he meant to find out what. Granted, Fifer had been an asshole, but the sight of that glowing hand and the screams from McCarthy and Fifer were burned into his memory, much like the handprints were burned into the bodies of his fellow soldiers. If whatever had done that was in this ship, it had best be warned—Spade was coming for it.

Spade lurched forward awkwardly, hunched in a squatting position. Whoever they were, they were small. The best way to navigate would be to crawl on all fours, but that made holding one’s weapon next to impossible, and no way was Spade wandering around in here without a gun at the ready.

The light from his flashlight cut the darkness as he schlepped forward, his feet making surprisingly little sound. Swinging his gun with the flashlight attached from side to side, he saw nothing of much interest until the flashlight’s beam came to rest on a single object on the floor.

Spade stopped, tensing, finger on the trigger. Then he looked more closely and bent to retrieve the object, turning it over and over in the beam of his light.

It was a sneaker. A child’s sneaker, from the looks of it. A child’s sneaker here, on the floor of an alien spaceship.

[Kathy W 2200]

PART THIRTY-FIVE


July 7, 1947, 6:35 a.m.

Pohlman Ranch


Letting the stone fall from her hands, Dee Proctor leaned back against the counter, closing her eyes in exhaustion. She felt so tired, so completely drained that she doubted she’d have the energy to run away if she needed to. But James looked a bit better, though not as much better as she had hoped. She had felt him pulling on her energy to heal himself, but she seemed to have less of it since helping to heal Valeris. Now she felt empty, depleted. She would need to rest before trying again.

She turned her head toward Valeris, still slumped against the counter with his head on his chest. Anyone looking would think him dead were it not for the steady rise and fall of his tiny chest. Once again she wondered why James had been so insistent that she not disturb him. What was in those glowing sacs that was so important that James was willing to die for them, even though they had many others?

Curiosity overcame her exhaustion, and Dee pulled herself to her feet. She crossed the room to the first container in which James had placed one of the sacs. It looked a bit like the big freezer case in Mr. Chamber’s grocery store, only not as tall. It had a lid that opened up like a suitcase, and some controls on the front which had tiny lights that winked in the darkness. Turning around, she cast a guilty look at her two friends, both of whom were oblivious to what she was doing. Would they mind if she looked? Deciding it couldn’t hurt, she fumbled with the funny latch and raised the lid. It rose easily.

Inside it was warm, very warm, and the glow from the sacs provided light. They look like bags, she thought. Bags of liquid. The liquid was cloudy, obscuring anything inside. Why would James be willing to die for glowing bags of liquid? Was this something they used to heal their King? Is that why it was so important?

She touched one of the sacs hesitantly. It felt warm and leathery. She touched it again—and jumped, as something inside the sac gave a lurch.

Dee pulled her hand away and stared in alarm. Whatever the sac contained was moving, causing the entire sac to quiver. Was there something….something alive in there? Was this their injured King?

Suddenly, something came close to the walls of the sac, so close she could see it through the cloudy liquid. That something pushed against the wall of the sac, bumping it upward like a tiny mountain. Its outline was unmistakable. It was a hand, an impossibly tiny hand, with short, stubby fingers. Babies, Dee thought with amazement. They’re growing babies.

A sound behind her made her turn. She spun around quickly with a guilty expression on her face, assuming that either Valeris or James had awakened. Instead, she was horrified to see a soldier staring right at her, holding the sneaker she had so foolishly left outside.



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




David Proctor fumbled with the door handle even before Sheriff Wilcox brought the car to a halt. “Wait!” George commanded, before David could jump out. He handed him a hat. “Put this on. You’re posing as one of my deputies, remember?”

“Is this really such a good idea, George? Everyone knows me; they know I’m not one of your deputies.”

“I needed to pull in extra help because I’m short-staffed, what with the roadblocks and all,” George said pointedly. “That should hush up anyone who knows better, and the uniform should hush up anyone who doesn’t. Just do me a favor, and don’t go blundering around calling attention to yourself. If you cause a scene, I won’t be able to stop them from carting you off.”

David had insisted on parking out of sight in case they had to make a quick getaway, a notion which drew raised eyebrows from George. But George had humored him, approaching the site from a different direction than the one the Army was obviously using, and parking on one side of a small hill. The Army was on the other side, as evidenced by the general noise level. Climbing the rise, they walked across the top of it until they could see the goings-on below.

It was there, just as David had remembered it from last night, gleaming in the newly risen sun. David remembered that night only a few days ago when Dee had insisted she’d seen a star fall from the sky in that horrible rainstorm. There’s your star, kiddo, he thought sadly. A fallen star, indeed.

Beside him, George seemed to have lost his voice. He stood gaping in a most unprofessional manner, clearly unwilling to believe what his eyes told him was there. “Now do you think I’m crazy?” David asked quietly, as he headed down the hill, hoping against hope that no one would question his presence here. George followed him, still speechless.

On the outskirts of the crowd David noticed someone walking hurriedly toward them. For a brief moment he thought he’d been discovered before realizing it was Mac Brazel.

“Dave, George,” Mac said soberly. Mac shot David a look filled with regret. He believes me now. How could he not? David thought, looking up at the gleaming saucer swarming with soldiers.

“What the hell is that thing?” George whispered, having found his voice at last.

“A spaceship,” Mac answered shortly. “Dave, I’m glad you’re here. Dee is inside that thing.”

“Inside?” David repeated incredulously. “She was never inside it before. She was sleeping outside, right about over there,” he said nodding unobtrusively. “I was hoping she’d run away.”

“A spaceship?” George echoed beside them, still too caught up in the moment to process their conversation.

“Yes, a spaceship,” Mac said irritably. “She’s inside now,” he continued to David. “I saw her.”

David heart pounded. This was worse than he’d thought. He’d assumed his daughter would run, run away and try to hide, although there were precious few places to hide out here.

“A spaceship,” George said in an awed tone, still completely oblivious to the problem at hand.

“Yes, George, a spaceship!” Mac said angrily. “Would you snap out of it? We have a bigger problem!”

“When did you see her?” David asked, sparing a sympathetic thought for George. This was all new to him. It would take him a while to process it.

Mac hesitated, looking down at his feet. “They shot something, Dave,” he said in a low voice, as David’s eyes flew open wide. “I don’t think it was her. Someone said it looked like a bird. Someone else said it looked like a tiny little gray person. I think they hit something, and she pulled it away to help it. I only saw her face for a moment when someone was shining a flashlight inside. But it was her. It’d swear to it.”

David turned his back for a moment, his hands over his mouth. Mac and George waited, exchanging disturbed glances.

Finally, David turned around. “How the hell are we going to get her out of there?” he asked, his voice dangerously close to cracking.

“I don’t know,” Mac sighed. “They have orders to shoot anything that moves. Even if she came out on her own, she might not make it.”

“Maybe you didn’t see her,” David said hopefully. “Maybe you just thought you saw her. Maybe she’s not in there at all.”

Mac shot a glance at George, who gave a tiny shake of his head.

“Maybe,” Mac allowed doubtfully.

David closed his eyes. He knew damned well that Mac would never have even raised this subject if he wasn’t certain of what he saw. If Mac said Dee was in there, she was in there.

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he whispered. “What am I going to do?”



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



<Don’t move!>

For one horrifying second Dee thought it was the soldier talking. Then she realized he was puzzling over her sneaker, not even looking at her anymore. And the voice was coming from inside her head, not from her ears. She looked down to find James awake, his eyes open.

<They can’t see you, but they can hear you. Do not make a sound!> he instructed.

Obediently, Dee waited while the soldier turned her shoe over and over, one hand on his gun as though afraid the shoe might bite. It was disconcerting to say the least, seeing him standing there only a few yards away from her. She knew from personal experience just how effective Valeris’s illusions were, but it was still terrifying to have to rely on that for cover.

After a minute or two that seemed like a lot longer, the soldier left, causing a chorus of voices outside. Dee sank down onto the floor next to Valeris, behind the counter and out of view of the door. There would be more of them now, many more, wondering how a Keds sneaker had wound up on an alien ship, and she didn’t want to have to watch the procession going by right outside the door.

Dee looked down at James. He looked a bit worse now, as though the few words he had just spoken had worn him out. No way was he well enough to go for help. “James, what are we going to do?” she wailed as quietly as she was able. “How are we going to get out of here? I thought the other two would help us, but now we can’t reach them.”

<I will try to contact Brivari and Jaddo,> James said, sounding exhausted.

“How?” Dee wondered. “You can’t change your shape and fly away—you’re hurt.”

<There is another way,> James said. <I think I have enough strength left to accomplish it. I will try.> He promptly closed his eyes, and sank into what appeared to be a deep sleep. Or perhaps it was unconsciousness. Whatever it was, Dee once again found herself alone beside two injured aliens, with no one to talk to and no clear hope of getting them—or herself—out of this alive.

She heard voices, and the ship shuddered slightly as the first of what would no doubt be hundreds of pairs of feet entered the ship. She pressed her face into her knees, willing herself to cry silently.




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



In the pod chamber, Jaddo stirred in his sleep. The dream was back, the nightmare that had haunted him ever since leaving Antar. Try as he might, he was unable to shake it. Only this time, it was different.

****Rath stood at the gate, the paltry number of soldiers he’d been able to muster on a moment’s notice arrayed behind him. Ahead, the gate to the palace swung open to reveal the Argilian Army, Khivar and Athenor at its head. Khivar and Rath exchanged sharp words; challenges were made, insults hurled. Then…….

……the scene changed. The Argilians melted and reformed into humans, wearing outlandish uniforms and carrying what appeared to be weapons. And Rath turned around, looking up at his Warder, whom he had deliberately left behind, and said something he’d never said before, neither in reality nor in this dream.

“We need your help!” ****

Puzzled, Jaddo thrashed in his sleep. The dream had never gone this way before. What he wouldn’t have given to have had Rath ask for his help! To have not been left behind at what turned out to be the defining moment of their civilization. Why was the dream different this time? And why were the Argilians appearing human?

Suddenly Rath’s face began to melt and twist, changing, finally coming to rest in a familiar form—Urza.

Jaddo bolted awake, sweating. Only once before had Urza dared invade his dreams, and Jaddo had made it quite clear at that time that a fate much worse than death awaited if he ever tried that particular ability on him again. Why would he be taking such a risk now? And where was he, anyway? Shouldn’t they be here by now?

Jaddo looked over to where Brivari sat, studying one of the sacs. “Where are Urza and Valeris?” he asked anxiously. “Is something wrong?”

Brivari looked at him in surprise. “Not that I know of. I expect them any time now. Why?”

Jaddo paused, putting it all together: The humans with the weapons. Urza asking for help. “They’re in trouble!” he gasped, bolting for the door with a startled Brivari in his wake.

He slapped his huge, long-fingered hand on the handprint, and was airborne even before the door had finished opening.



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


David Proctor watched uneasily as soldiers clustered around something found on the ship. He shot a glance at Mac, who shrugged with confusion, then at George, who was closer to the fray. The look on George’s face was not reassuring.

George watched for a moment, then detached himself from the crowd and made his way over to David.

“What?” David said frantically, fearing the worst. “What did they find?”

“A child’s sneaker,” George replied. “A red sneaker, to be precise. Everyone thinks it’s a boy’s sneaker because of the color.” He paused. “What color sneakers did Dee wear, Dave?”

David closed his eyes. “Red,” he said faintly.

George nodded sadly. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

David could barely bring himself to ask the next question. “Did they find anything else?”

“No,” George answered. “Nothing. Just one red sneaker lying on the floor.”

“So she is in there,” David whispered.

“Looks like,” George said gravely.



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



Footsteps shook the ship as soldiers swarmed over the interior. Dee sat with her back against the counter, arms wrapped tightly around her knees, eyes squeezed shut. Being here had been scary before, but now it was terrifying. They were everywhere.

Beside her, James stirred and groaned. Dee looked down at him with dismay. Whatever he had been doing, it had cost him dearly; his wounds were opening up again, and seeping that black stuff that must be their blood. “Oh, no!” she whispered in a panicky voice.

Her eyes fell on the stones lying nearby, and she picked one up. She had seemed to run out of gas the last time she had done this, but some time had passed; perhaps it would work again now. She cupped the stone in her hand, concentrating as hard as she could. She could feel the energy within her combining with the stone’s energy, and she mentally sent that James’s way. For a moment she thought it was working. But then the energy paused, unused, hanging in the air like an invisible cloud, and finally dissipated.

James rolled his head sideways and half opened his eyes. <I’m afraid I haven’t the strength left to make use of what you would give me,> his voice whispered inside her head, so weak now that she was frightened all over again.

“How do these work, exactly?” Dee asked, looking for something, anything that would help them. “It feels like these rocks let you take my energy and use it yourself, but you actually do the fixing. Is that right?” James nodded slowly, and with obvious difficulty.

“Is there some way I can use my energy and fix you myself?” she asked hopefully. She had no real idea how she would do that, but at this point she was willing to try.

<Brivari can do that,> James said in that frighteningly weak voice. <He is the only one of us who can.>

“Well, where is he?” Dee wailed, then checked herself quickly, having forgotten that the soldiers could hear her. “Did you get to him?”

<I reached Jaddo. He will figure it out. They will come.>

“And then Brivari can make you better?” Dee asked hopefully.

Urza nodded. <If he can get in here. I imagine that will be difficult, given the number of soldiers present.>

“He’s a shapeshifter,” Dee said crossly. “He ought to be able to go anywhere he wants.”

<It is not that simple. I told you once before that we are stronger, but not invincible. Even the strong can be outnumbered.>

“James, I’ve seen what you can do,” Dee protested, “all of you. You can do all sorts of things humans can’t.”

<You have also seen what human weapons can do to us,> James replied. <They will be here. But perhaps not in time for me.> He drew a long shuddering breath, causing Dee to sit up on her knees in alarm.

James reached over, picked up the little bag with the special stones, and handed it to her with an incredibly shaky hand. Watching the effort he expended on this simple task, Dee was certain he didn’t have long to live. <Take these,> he whispered, for whispering was all he had strength for. <Make certain these get to whoever of us survives. They will need them.>

Tears spilled down Dee’s cheeks as she took the bag from him. “I won’t need to,” she said stubbornly. “You’re going to be okay. You can deliver them yourself.”

<My little fighter,> James said in a slightly stronger voice that had a hint of a smile attached to it. <I appreciate all you have done for us, but you really should have left when you had the chance.>

“I told you before; I’m not logical, but I am loyal,” Dee said, swiping a hasty hand across her eyes. She hated crying in front of people, no matter how good the reason.

James stared at her intently, so intently that she became uncomfortable. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

<Nothing,> James answered, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He had rallied for a moment there, but the moment had passed. <I was remembering someone else who was neither logical nor loyal. Until it was too late.> Then his head rolled to one side, and he fell silent.

“James? James? James!” Dee whispered frantically, fearful of raising her voice as she heard yet more feet walk by outside the room. She crouched lower and watched his chest; he was breathing, but only barely. Grabbing the stone again, she sat, trembling, and tried again.

Nothing. The stone glowed obediently, and she could feel her own energy there, available for use. But James was beyond that now. Sobbing, she let the stone drop into her lap, and buried her face in her hands.

He was going to die right here in front of her, and there was nothing she could do about it.

[Kathy W 2200]

PART THIRTY-SIX


July 7, 1947, 7:10 a.m.

Pohlman Ranch





“Spade, this is West. Could you……”

The radio near Private Spade radio crackled, then stopped. He picked up the handset.

“West, this is Spade, over.” Nothing. He tried again. “West, this is Spade, do you copy?” Still nothing.

Swearing under his breath, Spade looked toward the alien vessel gleaming in the distance. West was working inside the ship. He, on the other hand, had been assigned to collect fragments of the alien metal about half a mile away, Major Marcel having managed to overrule Captain Cavitt about Spade working inside the vessel. Spade hadn’t been as upset about the reassignment as he might have been; despite his desire to avenge his buddies, leaving the cramped confines of the alien ship had come as a relief. It was creepy in there.

Still, creepy or no, whatever killed his fellow soldiers could still be in there, and this would give him an excuse to go back inside. There were soldiers milling around everywhere, so slipping in would be no problem. Squaring his shoulders, Spade headed for the ship.

West was just outside the hatch, puzzling over the radio. “What happened?” Spade asked when he saw West. “What’s wrong?”

“The radio went dead,” West answered in a puzzled voice, twiddling the dials.

“You called me because the radio went dead?” Spade said sarcastically.

“No. I called you because I can’t figure out what to do with these damn birds,” West retorted.

“What birds?”

“Those birds,” West said, pointing to a hawk perched on a storage locker a few feet away, glaring at them fiercely. “They keep diving at the hatch and the holes in the hull. One of ‘em got in over on the other side; a bunch of us chased it out. I’ve chased this one out a couple of times, but it keeps coming back.”

“Why would birds be trying to get in?” Spade wondered.

West shrugged. “I dunno. There’s at least two—maybe they’re trying to nest? Or….” he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, “maybe they’re aliens.” He chuckled. “Maybe they want their ship back.”

Spade paused, remembering how everyone had argued about what they were shooting at earlier inside this very hatch. “It looked like a bird,” one soldier had said. He glanced back at the hawk, which was still glaring at him. An uneasy feeling was stirring in the pit of his stomach.

“Where were they heading?” he asked West.

“Heading?”

Spade took a pencil and paper out of his pocket and sketched a rough diagram of the ship. It was circular, with a circular hallway ringing it and rooms off each side. “Where did you chase them away?”

West pointed. “I got mine here, and there was another one over there,” he said, pointing at the sketch. “They were heading that way.”

Of course, Spade thought grimly. The birds had been heading for the area where he had found the child’s sneaker.

“C’mon,” he said, ignoring the knot in his stomach and pulling West toward the hatch. They climbed inside and headed down the low, narrow hallway. Spade stopped after a few yards and turned back toward the hatch, unslinging his rifle.

“What the hell are you doing?” West objected. “What are you going to tell the Major when that thing goes off and everyone comes running? That you were bird hunting?”

“I’m not going to shoot it,” Spade said impatiently. “Now shut up and keep quiet. We may be here for awhile.”

West opened his mouth to object, then closed it when he saw the look on Spade’s face.

They waited. And waited. Five minutes went by; ten minutes; fifteen. Finally, their patience was rewarded. The hawk silently entered the hatch and paused, perfectly silhouetted by the light from outside. Spade raised his rifle, holding it by the barrel like a baseball bat, while West’s mouth hung open.

The hawk stood there for several long minutes before apparently deciding it was safe and taking flight down the hallway. But it hadn’t banked on Private Spade, a star baseball player while in high school. The rifle handle connected with a sickening thud, sending the bird flying back toward the hatch. It landed in a heap on the floor.

Spade shushed West, who was making all sorts of strangling noises, and crept forward toward the bird. It was struggling to fly, obviously injured. “Get me something to throw over it!” Spade hissed to West.

“Spade, have you gone nuts? I said it was bugging me, but that doesn’t mean we should play bird baseball!”

“Just get me something…” Spade began.

Too late. The bird managed to fly, low and jerky, but enough to get out of the hatch. Spade leaped after it, with a bewildered West following him. Jumping out of the hatch, they saw the hawk dipping and swerving crazily. It went down in a patch of grass about twenty yards away, and the two soldiers ran up to it, panting.

Spade gingerly poked it with the barrel of his rifle. The bird lay motionless, eyes closed.

West leaned forward, hands on knees, breathing hard. “You wanna tell me what the hell’s going on? Why are we out here chasing birds when we’ve got our first ever alien spaceship sittin’ right over there?”

Spade poked the bird again. “It’s dead,” West said. “D-e-a-d, dead. You know, devoid of life? You whacked it—you killed it. Why are ya lookin’ so surprised?”

Spade reslung his rifle with a look of chagrin. “I don’t know—I just had this crazy idea that….oh, never mind. It was nuts.” He shielded his eyes with his hands and gazed at the ship. “I think this thing is getting to me. It’s making me see things that aren’t there.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t be here, man,” West said sympathetically. “After everything that happened this morning….maybe this isn’t the best place for you to be.”

“This is the perfect place for me to be,” Spade answered firmly. “I’m not leaving until I find whatever killed our guys.”

“Then I suggest you look there,” West said, indicating the ship, “instead of chasing birds out here.”

As the two started walking back, a loud, angry cry came from above. Looking up, West saw the second hawk circling the area where the first one had fallen.

“Aw hell, Spade,” West teased. “You made its girlfriend mad.”

And they laughed, as the hawk continued circling.



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



Inside the ship, Dee Proctor jerked awake. She had thought she heard someone calling in thought speech, calling for Valeris and Urza—James. She listened carefully: Nothing. Had she imagined it? Does it matter?, she thought sadly. I don’t know how to call back.

James was still lying beside her on the floor. His color had gone from gray to a sickly shade of gray-green, and his breathing was ragged and gasping. She had tried using the special stone several times to no avail. She had even tried to wake Valeris with no luck. James was beyond anything she could do for him. She had given it a lot of thought, and had finally reached a decision.

“I’ll try one more time,” she whispered to James’s inert form, “and then we go with Plan B.” Cupping the stone, she tried once more to send him something, anything, that would help.

After a minute or two she threw the stone down, defeated. She wasn’t surprised. That must have been the fifteenth time she’d tried, and nothing had seemed to help. For a time she had cried and rocked back and forth, panicking over what to do. But after awhile she grew tired of being scared. It wasn’t getting any of them anywhere. So she had stopped being afraid, and started to think. Which led to Plan B.

Dee peered around the counter at the doorway, so clear to her but not to anyone outside. This was going to require careful timing. She moved to the doorway, stopping just beside it. Another soldier passed, so close she could have reached out and touched him, oblivious to the child only a couple of feet away. Valeris did his work well.

Dee returned to James. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to him, the tears starting again. “I’ve done all I can. I don’t know what else to do. Please don’t hate me.” She pulled him by the ankles as gently as she could until he was lying right beside the doorway, and then she waited.

Dee had noticed that the soldiers tended to walk by in cycles. They were working on another part of the ship right now from the sounds of things, and merely patrolling the rest. A soldier had just passed; another should be by in about two or three minutes, if she had counted the seconds between soldiers correctly.

As she sat waiting, she started to have doubts. Again. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe they should just stay here and wait, hoping that Brivari and Jaddo could get through somehow. What she was about to do could mean James’s death.

But he’ll die anyway, she argued with herself for the umpteenth time. And they had waited long enough. Either Brivari and Jaddo hadn’t gotten the message, or they couldn’t get inside. Besides, these were her people; she refused to believe they were all like that nasty Captain. This was the Army, the Army her father and her Uncle James and Mac had belonged to. The Army that had helped win the war. There must be someone out there who could help James. He needed doctors and hospitals, both of which were out there.

She stiffened as another soldier walked by. Waiting until his almost silent footsteps faded away around the bend, she cautiously poked her head out the door. Anyone watching would have seen a frightening sight—a human head appearing out of what appeared to be a wall.

No one was in sight. Quickly Dee dragged James through the doorway out into the hall. She placed his hands across his chest just like her grandmother’s had been after she died. Perhaps if they could see his hands and see that he didn’t have any weapons, they wouldn’t shoot him.

“Goodbye,” Dee whispered to James, her eyes swimming with tears, her tiny hands on his huge ones. “I hope they help you. I hope I get to see you again.” Then she scrambled back into the room, back into her usual spot by Valeris, behind the cabinet, out of sight of the door. She had seen enough to be wary; if she stayed with him, they might shoot her without stopping to figure out she wasn’t an alien. She would wait here and see what happened before deciding what to do next.

She didn’t have long to wait.




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




When shouts of alarm from those at the crash site reached the ears of David Proctor, sitting in the Sheriff’s car on the other side of the rise, he was not surprised. He had spent the last half hour or so talking to various people and piecing together what had happened here this morning. It hadn’t been difficult; people had been eager to talk, and the deputy’s uniform he wore seemed to loosen tongues. As a result, he had formed a solid theory on why events had unfolded they way they had, and why his daughter was now inside an alien spaceship. He had been expecting this.

He took one last pull from his cigarette before crushing it in the ashtray. As he had told James, officially he had give up smoking. But as far as David was concerned, everything that took place between now and the time he finally held his child safely in his arms was unofficial. Smoking was allowed.

He got out of the car and climbed slowly to the top of the rise. It proved to be an excellent vantage point. The crowd below was clustered closely around a tiny, unmoving form, so closely that he would not have been able to see clearly from the ground. Some were talking excitedly, some had been stunned into silence, some looked grim, and a few….a few had a look of wonderment on their faces, an inkling of how their world had just become larger. But not enough, David thought sadly. Not enough to make a difference.

Shielding his eyes from the sun, David squinted and studied the form as best he could from this distance. Bipedal, gray, very large head and eyes relative to the rest of the body. And short, only about Dee’s height. No wonder they found her approachable.

Two people were walking up the rise toward him. Mac looked stunned. George was positively ashen. Poor George. All of this had been dumped in his lap just this morning, and he hadn’t had time to deal.

“How did they find him?” David asked when Mac reached the top. He already knew who it was.

“It just appeared out of nowhere in the hallway of the ship,” Mac answered. “Showed up where it hadn’t been before. No one knows how.”

I know, David thought. “Is he alive?”

“Hard to tell,” Mac said. “Only barely, if it is.”

“Not ‘it’; ‘he’,” David corrected firmly.

“How can you tell?” George asked, speaking for the first time in a shaky voice.

“You can’t,” David answered simply. “He told me they are whatever they are at the moment. But most of the time we spent together he was a ‘he’, so I think of him as a ‘he’.”

“She went in there because it—‘he’—was hurt, didn’t she?” Mac asked.

David nodded. If his hunch was correct, Dee had been in there with Valeris and James, the two aliens likely here when the Army arrived. Since no one had found them he assumed Valeris was working his magic, hiding them from view; the body below must belong to James.

“So what’s he doing out here?” Mac asked, bewildered.

“She couldn’t do anything for him,” David answered quietly. “She thinks someone out here will help him.” He sighed, and looked up at the sky. “She still believes. She still thinks people are basically good at heart.”

“And you don’t believe that?” Mac asked.

“The people here? The people who make the decisions about what happens to him? Don’t I wish,” David said sadly. He paused, and looked at Mac. “What about you? Last night you were all in favor of locking me in a rubber room and blowing whatever was out here all to hell.”

“Last night I thought you were nuts,” Mac admitted, looking down at the crowd. “And I still wonder what they’re doing here. You may be convinced of their good intentions, but I’m not. We have every right to be cautious. But what I see here isn’t caution, it’s aggression. It’s paranoia. That’s not supposed to be what we’re about.”

David shook his head sadly. “That’s not what he was about either.”

“Dave,” George interjected in a strained voice, “do you mean to tell me that you actually know that thing?”

David turned flinty eyes on the Sheriff. “He’s not a ‘thing’ George; he’s a person. Someone who liked jazz music and fireworks. Who liked Dee; who liked us. Although I would wager his opinion of us is about to change, if it hasn’t already.”

“Fireworks?” George asked, bewildered.

“He liked color,” David said softly. “One of the last things I said to him was to be sure and watch the sunrise.”

“I hope he followed your advice,” Mac said gravely. “I don’t think he’ll get another chance.”

They watched in silence as the crowd gathered around the body grew.



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



Shaking like a leaf, Dee Proctor sat on the floor, leaning against the counter with her eyes closed. She strained to hear what was going on outside, but all she could make out was shouting, excited voices, and general commotion. She had not heard the one thing she feared most: Gunshots. That was some good news, at least.

She hadn’t been able to bring herself to watch when they had taken James away. It had been bad enough listening to the astonished cries and expressions of disgust. She was past that now; they still looked odd, but she knew them, and knowing a person forever alters how you see them. Maybe, just maybe, there was someone out there who would be willing to see past what they looked like. She certainly hoped so.

The ship had grown quiet after they took James away. No more scuffling, shouted orders, and swearing. So it was all the more startling when Valeris stirred beside her and opened his eyes.

“Valeris?” Dee said tentatively. “Are you…..all right?”

<Hello, little one,> came his voice inside her head.

Dee was so relieved she burst into tears and threw her arms around him. At last she had someone to talk to, someone to guide her. She hadn’t realized just how much she’d missed that until now.

“I thought maybe you were hurt too,” she sobbed, “and you were both going to die in here, and I’d be all alone.” Then she paused, releasing him and looking toward the door. “But…why are you awake now? Does that mean they can see us?”

<They could if they were here,> Valeris answered. <For some reason, there are presently no minds on the ship to deceive. I take it something has happened?> He shifted slowly, as if he were stiff, and raised a huge hand to his head in a gesture that looked surprisingly like her father when he had a headache.

Dee suddenly realized that Valeris didn’t know anything about what had happened in the last hour or two. “James—Urza—got hurt,” she said, wiping her nose. “They shot him when he was a bird, before he could fly away for help. And I pulled him back here to use those stones to make him better, like we did for you. But you looked like you were asleep, and he wouldn’t let me ask you for help. I tried to do it myself, and he got a little better. But then he tried calling the others, and he got worse. And nothing I did helped. I tried and tried, and he just kept getting worse. So finally I…..” she stopped, unable to continue, the tears starting afresh.

Valeris, who had been listening to the tale in grave silence, nodded. <And finally you…..what?> he prodded gently.

“I….I put him outside the room so someone would find him. I didn’t know what else to do!” Dee went on in a rush, certain this would be seen as a betrayal. “I couldn’t make him better, and maybe someone out there can. I think he would’ve died if he’d stayed in here.” She dropped her eyes to the floor. “Don’t hate me,” she finished in a whisper.

<Now, why would I hate you? You were all alone, and you did your best. And you’re right; from the sounds of things, he would have died if he had stayed here. He has a better chance out there.>

“Do you really think so?”

Valeris leaned his head against the counter again. He looked exhausted. <I think that amongst every people, every race, there are those whose curiosity outweighs their fear. Perhaps Urza will be fortunate enough to encounter someone like that. Someone like you,> he added, with a smile in his voice. She was starting to recognize their smiles now, on their faces as well as in their voices. It was just a tiny twitch of their small mouths; nothing a human would refer to as a smile, but she could see it.

Hearing Valeris agree that someone out there might help made Dee feel better, and she relaxed a little. “But why wouldn’t he let me get you to help?” she asked, still fretting over that. “If you had helped, I bet we could have fixed him.”

<Perhaps. Perhaps not,> Valeris replied. <But Urza was right; guarding our Wards is more important than guarding ourselves, and our Wards were in imminent danger of discovery.>

“But if you all die, who’s going to guard them?” Dee asked sensibly. “You have to protect yourselves at least a little, or there won’t be any of you around to protect them.”

<True,> Valeris agreed. <It’s a judgment call.>

“But couldn’t you have helped when I first brought him back here? No one was on the ship then, just like you say no one is now. So there was no one to hide from the first time I tried to fix him.”

<I am not terribly adept at this enhancement,> Valeris replied. Dee didn’t know what an “enhancement” was, but she didn’t interrupt. <I needed time to prepare, and I sensed many minds very close by.>

“You seem pretty good at it to me,” Dee observed. “You’ve been at it for a while now.”

<And I’m afraid I’ve come to the end,> Valeris said.

Dee’s stomach gave a lurch. “The end? Does that mean you’re…you’re dying?”

<No, no, child, I’m not dying. I’m just exhausted. I was injured myself, remember, and this deception is very draining, even when rested. I can’t continue it much longer.>

Dee felt a sudden surge of panic. Those soldiers would be back at any moment, and she and Valeris would be visible. “What are we going to do?”

<I take it Brivari and Jaddo never arrived?>

Dee shook her head. “I thought I heard someone calling once, but I was asleep, and when I woke up I didn’t hear anything. I don’t know how to call back anyway, and you couldn’t talk, and neither could Urza. He thought he reached them, but they never came.”

<They came,> Valeris said with finality. <Whether Urza reached them or not, I’m sure they came. They would have investigated when we did not arrive at the expected time. Something must have gone wrong.>

“So what are we going to do?” Dee wondered again.

<I suppose I shall have to give myself up.>

“What?!” Dee was aghast. “They already shot you once! They shot Urza too!” Then she stopped, realizing that she had just delivered Urza into the hands of the very people who had hurt him.

<Child, there is a time to fight, a time to retreat, and a time to surrender. We have already tried the first two; it is time to try the third,> Valeris said firmly. <I cannot hold the illusion much longer. If the deception falls suddenly, your people will be startled and will likely attack. If I surrender, I have some control over how, when, and where they become aware of my presence. I am more valuable to them alive then dead. It is my best chance.>

“But what will they do to you?” she whispered. “They’ll do horrible things to you, won’t they? I hate them!” she added fiercely, not bothering to wait for an answer. “I hate them for what they’re doing! They don’t even know you!”

<Exactly,> Valeris replied, <and that is why you must not hate them. Everyone fears what they do not understand. Your people do not even realize there is life on other planets; they have reason to be afraid. They don’t know us, or why we’re here. Perhaps it is time to tell them, and see if that changes things.>

“I tried to tell Urza that, and he said it wouldn’t work,” Dee pointed out.

<It may not,> Valeris allowed. <But I’m afraid I have run out of options.> He rose to his feet with difficulty, and crossed the tiny room to one of the boxes where Urza had placed a sac. Opening the lid, he gently stroked the glowing sac inside. <I’m afraid they have run out of options,> he said quietly.

Dee joined Valeris beside the box. “Valeris….what are these?” she asked hesitantly.

<They are our Wards; the people we guard.>

“But…but you guard a queen, and Urza guards a princess, and Brivari guards a king. These aren’t kings and queens, they’re babies. Urza said all the people you protect got hurt.”

Valeris shook his head sadly. <An understatement. They died.> He touched the sac, and a little hand became visible just like before. <These are my handiwork. I have recreated them, so that they may grow to maturity, return home, and restore what was lost.>

“You’re growing them up all over again?” Dee asked, amazed. She looked down at the sacs again. “Boy. I wish you were around when my Uncle James died. Maybe you could have made him come back.”

Valeris smiled. <Unfortunately, it is not an easy process.>

“My father moved lots of these,” Dee said. “Why so many?”

<Each sac contains one of each of our royalty. I made many, but there were only six sets left. These are the last two.>

“I don’t get it,” Dee said with a hint of irritation in her voice. “If you have lots of these, then why do these two matter so much? Why is guarding these more important than your lives? She folded her arms across her chest and waited for an answer with a scowl on her face. Having spent the last couple of hours agonizing over what to do, it was galling to think that all that was over something they had plenty of anyway.

Valeris looked grave and sad as he closed the lid of the box. <We will not have another chance to do this. So many have died; we cannot afford to lose even one more unnecessarily. There have been too many mishaps. Too many mistakes.> He rested a hand on the closed lid. < No more mistakes,> he whispered.

Valeris let his hand linger on the lid for a moment before walking back to the counter, where he sank down onto the floor. <Come here, child,> he instructed, and she obeyed, sitting down next to him.

<I have little strength left, but I think I have enough for one last deception. Listen carefully. Here is what you must do.>

[Kathy W 2200]

PART THIRTY-SEVEN


July 7, 1947, 7:55 a.m.

Pod Chamber



The stone door grated open, and Brivari was dimly aware of Jaddo stumbling through. He felt himself being set gently on the floor, and for the first time since being struck by the human soldier, he allowed the pain to wash over him and his natural instincts to take over. He began to shift, erratically, spasmodically, ticking through several different forms, never fully attaining any of them. He hadn’t been able to do this while the human soldiers were watching or while Jaddo was carrying him back to the pod chamber. It was a relief to just let go.

After a few agonizing minutes he was finally able to hold his own form. He lay on the floor, eyes closed, trying to slow his breathing. He would need to rest before attempting any repair.

“Brivari?” Jaddo’s voice, ragged and breathless. “How bad is it?”

“My arm is broken, and he smashed my leg in several places,” Brivari replied in a strained voice. “Do we have the stones?”

“No. Valeris still had them.”

Of course, Brivari thought. Whatever could go wrong would go wrong. It was the story of his life these days. “Can you repair it yourself?” Jaddo was asking.

“Yes. But it will take time.” Brivari twisted painfully so he could look at Jaddo. “Why did you bring me back here? You should have continued trying to rescue the hybrids.”

“You saw yourself we could not reach them,” Jaddo said. Now that Brivari could see him, he saw that Jaddo was slumped against the wall looking every bit as exhausted as he was. Carrying him all the way back here must have been very draining. “I could not get inside to save them; you I could save.”

“Perhaps Urza and Valeris escaped with them?” Brivari ventured hopefully.

“There is nowhere to hide,” Jaddo replied. “I checked for several miles and found nothing. At the first sign of trouble they would have replaced the sacs in the incubators and Valeris would have hidden the lab. They are inside the ship; I am sure of it.”

“You should go back,” Brivari urged. “You cannot help me now. Go back and get them out.”

“There are too many humans there,” Jaddo protested. “We both waited for an hour and we couldn’t get in. We shall have to try again later; the odds will be better if we go together.”

Brivari did not try to argue, more because he did not have the strength to argue than that he agreed. So much had gone wrong, they had so few hybrids left; he was unwilling to sacrifice even one of them. “I didn’t hear anything from either Urza or Valeris when I called for them. Did you? Anything at all?”

“No,” Jaddo replied heavily. He moved stiffly into a sitting position. “They might very well be dead.

“Or they might not be,” Brivari said pointedly. “We don’t know what happened there. I’m not willing to assume they’re dead.”

Jaddo sighed. “Brivari, they didn’t answer us. You know perfectly well they would have if they were able. We must consider the possibility they did not survive.”

“You consider it,” Brivari said irritably. “I prefer to consider the equally valid possibility that they did survive and are unable to speak for some reason.”

“Being dead would render them unable to speak,” Jaddo said dryly.

Brivari pushed himself up on one elbow and glared furiously at his companion. “Let me make myself exquisitely clear: Until I hold their dust in my hands and scatter it to the winds, I will assume they are alive. And so will you.”

A long moment of silence passed before Jaddo spoke. “I’m not trying to wish them dead,” he said evenly. “I’m just trying to make certain we remain realistic about their chances.”

“I prefer to be hopeful,” Brivari said, laying his head back down on the ground. “Reality is depressing of late.” He closed his eyes again, concentrating, and a snapping noise came from his leg. He winced, then relaxed. “One break down, ten to go,” he muttered.

Jaddo rolled his head in the opposite direction, looking toward the door to the Granolith chamber. “Have you considered that perhaps Orlon was right?”

“Right about what?” Brivari said distractedly.

“Perhaps we would be safer on Antar. I know we’re not really safe anywhere,” he added hastily, as Brivari’s eyes flashed, “but perhaps if would be wiser for us to hide on our home planet where paranoid, inferior races would not stumble upon us and panic.”

“Wonderful. Instead, we could have a ruthless race with delusions of grandeur stumble upon us. Think how much better that would be,” Brivari said sarcastically.

“At least they would have some idea what they’re dealing with,” Jaddo retorted.

“Exactly. Which is why they would be ten times more dangerous,” Brivari argued. “Humans may be paranoid, but in the end their ignorance will be useful. We can outwit humans much easier than our own.”

“Brivari, we have been compromised,” Jaddo said hotly. “Humans are crawling all over our ship as we speak. If they haven’t discovered Urza and Valeris or the hybrids yet, they will soon. And what do you think they’ll do to them? Welcome them with open arms? Now they know we are here, they’ll never stop looking for us. At home we would be hunted, but hunted on familiar ground among those who would help us. Orlon’s argument made sense.”

“Of course he made sense,” Brivari said bitterly. “He was always sensible. Sensible, and rational, and oh-so-logical. Until he stabbed you in the back, that is, which he always did eventually.” Brivari paused and closed his eyes a moment; the effort of arguing was taking its toll. “I know him, Jaddo; he is not to be trusted, just like you said before, and for the same reason—he is on no one’s side but his own. He would say anything, do anything, turn against anyone, to get what he wants. Trusting him is like playing with fire; eventually you will get burned, because that’s what fire does.”

“But he hates Khivar, and so do we!” Jaddo argued passionately. “I agree he can’t be trusted, but the fact that he is also against Khivar could be used to our advantage.”

“Yes, he hates Khivar,” Brivari agreed, “but not because he wants Zan on the throne. He doesn’t want anyone on the throne unless they’re Covari. Having a common enemy may be good enough in the beginning, but it will not go the distance. And we need to go the distance. The hybrids will not mature for many years. If that were not the case then Orlon might have been useful, but…..” his voice trailed off.

“You are always the one who says we must be willing to make allies,” Jaddo countered, “to the point of attempting alliances with humans. Yet you refuse to ally yourself with our own kind?” He shook his head. “We should leave, Brivari. We tried; we failed. Antar is now safer than Earth. Let’s take the Granolith and go home.”

Brivari raised his head and stared at him. “Do you mean to tell me that you don’t intend to attempt a rescue?”

“Of course not,” Jaddo said impatiently. “We’ll rescue anyone who’s left to rescue, then leave.” He looked toward the Granolith chamber. “How long do you think we’ll have after we land before they manage to track us?”

Brivari lowered his head again. “The Granolith cannot be tracked by any known methods. It’s preprogrammed to land in a remote location.”

“Perfect!” enthused Jaddo. “We could hide the sacs there indefinitely if need be.”

“No,” Brivari said heavily. “We can’t.”

“Why not?”

Brivari recalled the first conversation he had had with Valeris on this subject. ”What if something goes wrong? Jaddo will have a fit,” Valeris had said. Now something had gone wrong, horribly wrong, and Jaddo was no doubt about to have a fit. But no matter. Brivari was absolutely certain he had done the right thing.

“We can’t operate the Granolith. Only the hybrids can. I had Valeris alter it so that DNA from one of them must be present in order for the ignition sequence to start.”

It took a full minute of shocked silence for this to sink in. Brivari lay on the floor, eyes closed, bracing himself for the firestorm he knew was coming. It may take awhile, but he knew it would come.

Jaddo rose wordlessly and opened the door to the Granolith chamber. The Granolith hummed, pulsing and glowing, and Jaddo looked back and forth from it to Brivari.

“You stranded us here?” he whispered in an incredulous tone. “I can’t believe it. Why would you do that? Do you realize this is our only way off this rock? Do you?! I can’t believe you would do this to us!”

Brivari let him rage uninterrupted. Go on; get it out of your system, he thought wearily. He waited until the torrent had slowed somewhat, then pulled himself painfully to a sitting position. “Jaddo, just shut up a minute and I’ll answer you,” he said testily.

Jaddo continued to rant, ignoring him. “QUIET!” Brivari roared.

Jaddo abruptly broke off and turned to face him, glowering.

“What I meant to do,” Brivari said deliberately, “was to make certain that we finished our task. No surrender; no retreat. We are here for the duration. No giving up and going home, no running at the first sign of trouble. Or the hundredth sign of trouble, for that matter. We have to stay here and make it work, because we have no other choice.”

“You stranded us here,” Jaddo repeated in a furious whisper. “Why would you do something so foolish?”

“I did not think we would be stranded here,” Brivari pointed out. “I had no idea our ship would crash and be rendered useless. Ideally we would never have needed to use the Granolith; it would simply have been hidden here with its rightful owner: Zan. When the time came our ship would have transported all of us back. The ship cannot be operated by only one person, but the Granolith can be operated independently. I meant to see that none of us—myself included—would ever have that chance. No one can use it but the royal family, and that is as it should be.”

“But—how do we flee, if flight becomes necessary?” Jaddo asked in a strangled voice.

“Haven’t you been listening?” Brivari said irritably. “We don’t flee. We can’t flee. Not until our job is done and our Wards are whole again. There is no going back unless and until our task has been completed.”

“And if we fail to complete our task?”

Brivari leaned against the wall and looked away. “Then there will be no reason to go back at all,” he whispered. “Then our world will be as it was before Riall, when we were hunted and feared. You don’t remember that, Jaddo; I do. I will not live like that again. I refuse.”

Jaddo stared at him a long moment, then moved to a container just outside the Granolith chamber. Opening it, he removed a long, slender crystal and turned to look at Brivari.

“Go ahead,” Brivari said quietly. “Try it. It won’t work.”

Jaddo looked up at the Granolith, then back at Brivari. His face hardened and he marched into the chamber, pausing for just an instant before attempting to insert the crystal into the Granolith’s base.

It wouldn’t go in. The crystal clinked on the surface of the Granolith, which refused it entry. The pulse and hum continued as before, now joined by the howl of protest from the small, gray figure that had fallen to its knees beside the base.




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



Pohlman Ranch




Dee Proctor huddled by the open hatch, peering cautiously out into the summer sunshine, waiting for Valeris’s signal. She hadn’t realized how hot it was until she’d come out here. The interior of the ship was naturally cool for some reason.

Outside the ship everyone had gathered around what must be James, alternately staring, grimacing, or scowling. There was a good deal of low level, uneasy muttering. Some people looked frightened, some disgusted, and a few looked like they were praying. No one looked surprised, or happy, or even vaguely curious. He looks too different, she thought sadly. They can’t see past that. She could only hope that there was someone who could see past his appearance wherever they were taking him.

Because they were clearly taking him somewhere. An Army ambulance had arrived, and a stretcher removed. Dee crossed her fingers and prayed that whatever hands James was delivered into would be more open-minded than those she saw outside.

She pressed herself into the wall of the hatch, clutching the bag with the special stones—“healing stones”, Valeris had called them—in her hands, and the message she was to deliver in her mind. She was starting to shake, the enormity of what she was about to attempt beginning to sink in. To calm herself she repeated the message over and over, much as she had a short while ago when he had first given it to her.

A short while ago she had been back in the little room, leaning up against the cabinet with a still exhausted-looking Valeris, staring at him open-mouthed. “But…will that work?”

<They are not expecting to see a human child here. You I can shield; myself and the hybrids are another matter.>

Hybrids. James had also referred to the babies in the sacs as “hybrids”, a word Dee had never heard before.

“What will happen to them?” she had asked, looking at one of the boxes that held the sacs.

<I will disconnect the units. With luck they will be overlooked, and we can rescue them later.>

“What about you?”

<I shall attempt to establish a rapport with one of the soldiers. Perhaps if they have a live alien to gape at they will spend less time tearing apart the ship. The hybrids may go undiscovered for awhile.>

Dee seriously doubted that, but didn’t say so. “Why can’t you come with me, and come back and rescue them later?”

And he had looked at her with that sad, you-don’t-understand look and said, <I can’t. It is my duty to guard them as long as I live. I think all of us have the best chance this way.>

Dee seriously doubted that too, but decided not to go into it. If he was determined to do this, she may as well help. “You’re going to turn back into a human, right?”

<No. Shifting requires energy, and I have precious little of that left.>

“But….how will you talk to them?” she asked, confused. “They can’t hear your thought speech, and you can’t talk…..like we do when you look…..like you do.”

<We are capable of physical speech in this form. We simply don’t use it. I will be able to speak to them, although my voice may sound odd.>

Wonderful. He was going to sound odd and look odd. She gave him one minute, tops. “Valeris, you’re going to scare whoever finds you to death. You’ll need to be extra careful, or else they’ll probably just shoot you before you get a chance to say a thing.”

<What do you suggest?>

Dee thought a moment. “Okay—first of all, tell them you ‘surrender’. That’s the important word. There are certain things they have to do and certain things they can’t do if you say you surrender. I remember my Father saying that when he came back from the war. And don’t show yourself right away. That’ll be too much for them. Talk to them first, from someplace where they can hear you but not see you. Tell them you look different. Warn them so they expect it. And when they finally do see you, hold up your arms like this.” Dee held up her hands in a perfect demonstration of “stick-em-up”.

<What is the meaning of that odd posture?>

“It means that you give up, and it lets people see you don’t have any weapons in your hands,” she said seriously. “They do it in all the books I read. It should work.”

<I will follow your advice,> Valeris said solemnly. He paused. <Would you do something for me?>

“Anything,” she said firmly.

<I will try to reason with the soldiers, but realistically, I must consider the consequences if I am unsuccessful.> He handed her the bag of special stones. <These are healing stones from my world. Whoever of us survives will need them. Will you keep them safe and deliver them to one of the others if I cannot?>

Dee nodded and took the bag from him, feeling the lump in her throat returning.

<There is one other thing,> Valeris said, looking away as though the subject were a painful one. <I have a message, for Brivari specifically, or whoever of us survives. If you see him again, will you deliver it?>

Dee had hesitated on that one. She was uncomfortable around Brivari, and the last time she had delivered a message to him he had been less than gracious. But Valeris had looked so earnest, so serious, that she couldn’t refuse him.

“Okay. But I hope you can tell him yourself. He doesn’t like me much.”

Valeris looked surprised. <What makes you think that?>

“Isn’t it obvious?” she said glumly. “Brivari doesn’t like me, and Jaddo hates me.”

<Do not be so certain of that,> Valeris said gently. <They are soldiers, both of them, though Brivari may not regard himself as such. They value action over words. I know they value your assistance and friendship, even if they have not said as much. Look deeper—look past the armor, and you may be surprised what you will see.>

“Maybe,” Dee said doubtfully. “What do you want me to tell him? Nothing that will make him mad, I hope.” She still had unpleasant memories of the last time she had told Brivari something he hadn’t wanted to hear.

<Oh, he will be furious.> Valeris said calmly. When Dee’s eyes lit up with alarm, he added, <And you will tell him from me, one of his oldest friends, that he is to behave himself and not take out his anger on you. Or I swear I will come back to haunt him for the rest of his days.> His voice twinkled the way his eyes did when he was in human form, but his tone grew serious. <If I die, this message dies with me. I know I ask a lot of you when you have done so much for us already. But if anything happens to me, Brivari—or whoever is left—will need to hear this.>

So Dee had spent the next few minutes carefully memorizing every word. It was a long message, with lots of big words that she didn’t understand. But she was good at memorizing; that was why she got such good grades in school. For all the times her teachers had told her that skill would come in handy, she had never in a million years believed that this was how it would prove useful.

And then it was time to go, and Dee had found herself clutching the bag of rocks and listening to last minute instructions. <Wait for my signal,> Valeris had said. <Do not move until I tell you, and when I tell you, move fast, and get as far away as you can.>

So here she was, waiting. And worrying. And wondering how she was ever going to get past that huge crowd without them seeing her. She had the utmost respect for Valeris’s abilities, but he was tired and there were an awful lot of people out there. People who were helpfully looking away from the ship, toward the drama with the ambulance.

Then a voice crashed inside her head, urgent and commanding. <Go, child! Go! Go now!>

Dee jumped down out of the hatch without pausing to think because if she had, she knew her nerve would have deserted her. She ran toward the rise where she had first seen the ship, hoping she could skirt the back of the crowd and reach the other side of the hill before anyone noticed her. Never had the deceptively short distance between the ship and the rise looked longer, and never had her legs felt so short.

Dee looked up at the hill as she ran, and as she did, her heart sang. For there at the top were three familiar figures, figures she had seen before silhouetted against the summer sunrise on one of their many fishing trips. Her father and Mac and the Sheriff were up there. She was almost home.

She heard an engine roar to life and risked a glance sideways. The ambulance was leaving and the crowd was breaking up. She skidded to a halt as the mass of people began to disperse, filling in the space between her and the hill, blocking her path. They were coming right toward her. They were looking right at her.

As the first of the soldiers advanced upon her, Dee froze to the spot, afraid to move. What would they do to her when they caught her? But then he walked right past her as if she didn’t exist as she instinctively twisted sideways to avoid touching him. “Make as little noise as possible,” Valeris had warned her. “Don’t touch anyone. They can’t see you but you are still there, so they will be able to feel you.”

For a few terrified moments Dee seriously considered running back to the ship. The rise seemed so far and the advancing crowd so close that it didn’t seem possible she’d ever make it. But the first soldier hadn’t seen her, and as others advanced they didn’t seem to see her either. Valeris was doing his job; the longer she stood here dithering, the longer he’d have to hold the deception and the more tired he’d be for whatever lay ahead.

She started moving again, holding her breath, dodging and weaving, slipping sideways, anything she needed to do to avoid bumping into someone. She tried hard not to look at the faces swimming past her, faces that she feared at any moment would suddenly recognize what was right in front of them.

Slowly, slowly, Dee made her way through the crowd.

[Kathy W 2200]

PART THIRTY-EIGHT


July 7, 1947 8:20 a.m.

Pohlman Ranch



David Proctor, standing at the top of the rise with Mac and George, had been stunned to see his daughter suddenly emerge from the ship. It was Mac who first saw her, tugging David’s sleeve and pointing wordlessly as though afraid speaking would make her go away. Mac had raised his hand as if to wave to her and was promptly stopped by George.

“Don’t,” he advised. “Don’t call any attention to her. Act like you don’t see her.”

But then the ambulance had driven away and the crowd had turned, heading straight toward her. Three hearts had leapt into three throats until it dawned on them that no one was stopping her, that she was still coming, more slowly now, but coming, with the soldiers acting like she wasn’t even there.

“How is that possible?” Mac asked in a strangled whisper. “It’s like they can’t even see her.”

“They can’t,” David answered, scarcely able to believe his eyes even though he had seen Valeris’s talents once. “He’s hiding her, God bless him.”

“You mean…..the alien inside that thing is making it so they can’t see her?” George asked. David nodded. “Then why can we see her?”

“I don’t know,” David said. “Maybe we’re out of range.”

“But why would he do this?” George persisted. “Why would he help her while he’s still in there?”

“I don’t know,” David repeated. “All I know is they’ve given me back my daughter twice now.” He looked at George. “Maybe someday, if we’re lucky, you can ask him why yourself.”

David watched his daughter carefully pick her way through the heedless crowd, every muscle in his body poised for flight like a sprinter in the blocks. If anyone so much as hinted that they saw her………..



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



Deputy Valenti brought his cruiser to a halt and stared out the window in disbelief. So it was true. The furtive whisperings he’d heard at the Sheriff’s station were true. The huge bulk of the ship shimmered in the heat, already oppressive despite the early hour. He slowly opened the door and stepped out, leaning on the car door, one leg still inside. He would never have believed a tale like this if he’d heard it from anyone else. Perhaps that old guy who reported the spaceship flying over his house hadn’t been so senile after all.

A crowd of soldiers had gathered off to one side, and as Valenti watched, an ambulance pulled away and drove off. Had someone been injured? He closed his car door and moved toward the throng, meaning to ask what was going on, when he saw something so odd, so completely incongruent, that he stopped and stared.

A small figure, a child by the looks of things, had bolted from the opening on the craft. It ran pell-mell toward the hill nearby, only to freeze when the crowd began to break up. Valenti waited for someone to speak to the figure, to question its presence there, but no one did. As he watched, more puzzled than ever, the figure began to move through the soldiers, all of whom acted as though they didn’t see it.

Valenti closed his eyes. Two incredible things in as many minutes was apparently too much for his sanity. He reminded himself that he was a Roswell Sheriff’s deputy, not someone prone to seeing ridiculous things. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

No dice. He still saw a small figure working its way through the crowd of soldiers who were inexplicably completely ignoring it. This time he studied the figure: Long hair, so it was a girl, and one red sneaker. Only one. As Valenti watched, she reached the rise on the far side of the craft and scrambled up it into the arms of three figures at the top who paused only moments before whisking her away down the other side of the hill.




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



Dee threw herself into her father’s arms, and David lifted her off the ground with a crushing hug. “Thank God you’re safe,” he whispered to her, blinking back tears. He didn’t care what had happened, didn’t want to hear any of it just yet. He just wanted to stand there holding his daughter, reveling in the miracle that had gotten her out of that ship alive and undetected.

The others, however, were not so patient. “Dee, what happened in there?” Mac asked. David shot him a “not now!” look, but Dee raised her face from her father’s shoulder and looked at David, not Mac.

“He’s going to give himself up, Daddy,” she said, her voice shaking. “They shot him. He’s better now, but he’s still really tired, and he says he can’t keep hiding us. So he’s going to try to talk to them.” She paused. “Do you think they’ll listen?”

David swallowed hard, staring into those young, hopeful eyes that mercifully hadn’t figured out what was coming. But all he said was, “Maybe, sweetheart. Maybe they will. It’s worth a try.”

“We should go,” George said quietly, “before anyone down there….wakes up.”

David hurried toward George’s cruiser, still holding his daughter. Mac started asking more questions, but David cut him off. “Later. We need to leave. Are you coming?”

“I’ll stay here,” Mac said, looking back toward the ship. “I want to see what happens.”

“Suit yourself.” David climbed into the front seat of the cruiser and tucked Dee between him and George where she was hopefully less visible. He had a very good idea of what was about to happen, and he didn’t want his daughter here when it did.




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



Private Spade worked his way down the narrow hallway, back toward the place where the body had been found. The excitement was over, the creature gawked at and gone. Spade had expected to feel anger toward the creature, but all he had felt was a curious mix of sadness….and pity. It had looked so forlorn, so injured, so…helpless. But it’s not helpless, he reminded himself fiercely. It killed Fifer and McCarthy.

Still, that begged the question, why didn’t it kill again? There were dozens of people crawling in and around this ship; it had several targets to choose from and several opportunities to do so. He pondered this as he worked his way down the cramped hallway, coming to the place where he had found both the body and that curious shoe. And froze.

There was a door in the wall; a door with a hole in the middle, a door that had never been there before. He had meticulously mapped the entire ship, and he would swear there had previously been no room here. Hands shaking, he pulled out the hastily scribbled map he had made, shining his flashlight on it. Nope. No room here. But now there was a room here, right were the body had been.

Spade looked around. He was the first one back in the ship, having crept back inside in the general confusion after the creature was borne away in the ambulance, hoping that Major Marcel wouldn’t notice and order him away again. He couldn’t hear anyone else close by. Should he wait for backup, or go in alone?

Raising his gun, Spade advanced slowly toward the brand new doorway. The others would be along any second now, and he would dearly love the chance to get whatever it was that killed his buddies. That might have been the creature they already found, or it might be something inside this room. Either way, he was going to find out.

Weapon raised, he stepped through the doorway.



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



Valeris heard the single set of footsteps outside pause. They were silent for a good long while. He sincerely hoped the child had made it. Having heard no shouting or other clamor from outside, he assumed she had. Now it was his turn to make a run for it, but his run would be verbal. His life depended on his ability to strike a rapport with this human, no matter how tenuous. He needed to make them think he was willing to talk so that they would take him into custody. Then, once he had rested a bit, he could escape.

He looked over toward the incubators which he had recently disconnected and sealed shut. At least the sacs inside were hidden from human eyes. Hopefully a live, talking alien would engage the humans long enough to give Brivari and Jaddo a chance to rescue them. Although they had their chance when the ship was empty, Valeris thought worriedly. Something had apparently gone wrong, outside as well as in. Their luck had obviously run out.

Valeris closed his eyes, willing himself to summon whatever energy reserves he had left. He was still sitting on the floor, propped up behind the counter, invisible from the doorway. He had been truthful when he had told the child that he did not have the energy to shift into human form; what he hadn’t told her was that he wouldn’t have shifted even if he had the strength. The humans must not know what he was capable of; his abilities were his only defense. Outside the room he heard the footsteps begin to move, and he braced himself for what could be the most important conversation of his life.




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



Private Spade swung his gun slowly left, then right, as he entered the previously unseen room. It was tiny like all the others, Lilliputian sized. At first glance there didn’t appear to be anything of interest inside. He saw no obvious weapons, heard nothing, could….wait.

A noise. Quiet. Shuffling.

Alive.

“Who’s there?” Spade called tensely. “Is someone there?”

“I am here. I surrender.”

Spade’s heart began to race. The voice was high-pitched and childlike, but Spade was willing to bet that was no child speaking.

“Who are you?” he called, downright panicky now.

“This is my ship,” came the response in that calm, high-pitched voice.

Spade started to sweat, his fingers growing clammy on the trigger.

“How do you know our language?” he called. The voice spoke perfect, college professor English. That was creepy.

“We learn quickly,” came the simple response.

Too quickly, Spade thought. “Come out where I can see you!” he barked, simultaneously wishing that he wouldn’t have to look.

A pause. “That might not be wise,” the voice counseled in a serious tone.

“I said get out here!” Spade ordered tersely, gripping his gun harder.

“I am concerned my appearance will frighten you,” the voice explained. “I do not look like you.”

“What….what do you look like?”

“You have seen my companion, have you not?” the voice asked. “I look like him,” it concluded, not waiting for an answer.

Breathing heavily, Spade considered whether he was really up to the task of speaking to one of those….things all by his lonesome. It had been bad enough looking at it while it was unconscious. To actually see one moving, talking….. but someone was bound to be along soon. Very soon. In the meantime, maybe it should stay where it was while he did some digging for the important stuff.

“Where do you come from?” he demanded.

“Far away from here.”

“Why are you here?”

“Our ship crashed,” the voice announced.

“But why are you here?” Spade clarified. “What do you want with us?”

“At the moment—my life.”

“Are you the one who killed the two soldiers this morning?”

“I am.” The voice paused. “Are you the one who attacked me and my companion?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Spade retorted.

“I haven’t,” the voice stated firmly. “I believe the subject under discussion is who attacked whom, is it not?” Spade gaped silently as the voice paused a moment, then continued. “I am sorry about your companions, but they did attack me first. I defended myself, as you would no doubt have done were you in my position.”

Unable to come up with an appropriate rejoinder, Spade swore silently. It was right—Fifer had attacked first. “Killing people isn’t a good way to say ‘hello’,” he pointed out, annoyed that that was the best he could come up with.

“Neither is attacking without provocation,” the voice remarked in a dry tone. “Tell me—if I had attacked first and your companions had responded by killing me, would you find fault with that?”

Spade opened his mouth, then closed it, the firm moral ground on which he had thought he’d been standing beginning to heave. He wasn’t exactly sure what kind of conversation he expected to have with Earth’s first visitor from another planet, but a debate about the concept of self-defense wasn’t it. To make matters worse, he was losing the argument. And that made him angry.

Spade held his gun more firmly. “Show yourself, or I open fire.”

“If I show myself, how do I know you won’t shoot me?”

“You don’t,” Spade answered grimly, “but I will open fire if you don’t get out here. You said you want to live. It’s that’s true, do as I say.”

A hand, an impossibly huge, gray hand appeared over the top of the thing that looked vaguely like a kitchen counter in the middle of the room. As Spade’s eyes grew wider, the hand was followed by another, then by a huge head with large, almond-shaped eyes. Black eyes with no pupils, no eyelashes. No hint of humanity.

Spade’s eyes were popping. It seemed to take an unusual amount of effort just to draw breath. “Come out here where I can see you,” he ordered in a shaky voice.

The creature obediently walked forward, hands in the air. “This is the appropriate posture when surrendering, is it not?” the creature asked calmly in that incongruent high-pitched voice, its tiny mouth barely moving.

Spade allowed himself just a moment to gather his wits. As he had suspected, seeing one of these…things….actually moving and talking was worse than seeing it looking dead. And this thing had admitted it had killed his buddies. He had sworn to find whatever had done that, and now that he had, his trigger finger was getting itchy.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t shoot you where you stand,” Spade demanded.

“I’ll give you several,” the creature replied, continuing to hold its hands in the air. “I can show your military how this ship works. I can tell them where we come from and why. I can help you heal my companion. We are worth far more to you alive than dead.” It paused a moment. “Is my companion still alive?”

“You’re just trying to save your friend,” Spade said sourly.

“Of course. Wouldn’t you?”

Once again Spade found himself at a loss for words. Of course he would have—and had—tried to save his buddies. It was hard to find fault with someone doing exactly what he would have done.

“Without us, it will be difficult, if not impossible, to obtain this information,” the creature continued persuasively. “Would not your superiors be interested in this intelligence? Would they not reward you for providing it?”

That they would, Spade thought. The Captain would kill to have the information it offered. Literally.

“Why would you tell us anything?” Spade asked, shifting his gun and his feet. “What’s in it for you?”

“I’ve already told you that. I want to live,” the creature replied sensibly. “I am outnumbered. I offer what I know in exchange for my safety.” It paused. “I have told you I surrender. There is a certain code you must follow in that case, is there not?”

Spade had no idea how this thing had come by that information, but it was right. Since it had surrendered, it was against regulations to shoot it unless it attacked. But what to do with it? If he just walked out with it, someone would surely open fire. He’d call Cavitt and get him in here. Or better yet, Marcel. Cavitt might shoot it anyway before it even had a chance to offer him his precious information.

“What the….!” Came a voice from outside.

Both Spade’s and the alien’s gazes jerked toward the doorway. A moment later Private West’s head poked through, eyes as wide as saucers. “Spade?” West whispered. “What’ya doing in here? I don’t remember this place. Why’ve you got your gun out? Is….” West broke off and gaped as his eyes fell on what Spade was pointing his gun at.

“It surrendered,” Spade said, struggling to keep his voice calm. Perhaps if he sounded calm, West would stay calm, although the look on West’s face made that seem unlikely. “I need you to go get Major Marcel. Not Cavitt, Marcel. Now.”

West didn’t answer. His eyes were locked on the alien, who hadn’t moved a muscle and had wisely kept its mouth shut. West’s hand drifted toward his gun.

“No!” Spade commanded. The drifting hand stopped. “Look at me, man. Look at me!”

Slowly, too slowly, West’s gaze swung toward Spade.

“Back away!” Spade ordered fiercely. “Back away and get Major Marcel. No one else—just him. Back up, leave the ship, and get the Major. Understand?”

But West’s eyes had glazed; he wasn’t listening. His hand moved again, clamping firmly on his weapon.

“You can’t!” Spade said frantically, alarmed at the look in West’s eyes. “It surrendered. It says it’ll talk. Now go and get the Major. That’s an order!”

Too late.

“West? West! Stop! NO!”



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



In a speeding car almost a mile away, David Proctor heard the sounds and covered his daughter’s ears with his hands. Curled on his lap with that strange little bag clutched in her hands, she didn’t look up. George didn’t react either, so he must not have heard. Only David heard, heard something he’d hoped never to hear again.

While he was overseas, David had discovered a curious ability: He could hear gunfire miles away. There were times when that was handy; other times it disturbed his sleep, leaving him wide awake while others slumbered on, blissfully unable to hear what he heard. He hadn’t heard gunfire since the war. He heard it now, and his chest tightened as though the shots had hit him instead of Valeris.

You idiots! he thought fiercely, hugging his daughter to his chest. They had just shot the one who was most likely to help, the most human of the bunch. James was sympathetic, but Valeris was the diplomat. He was the one most qualified to be the liaison between their peoples. And now he was wounded or dead, and any hope for a peaceful resolution to this mess had likely died with him. He got her out of there, David thought sadly, and I never got the chance to thank him.

Dee stirred on his lap. She looked exhausted, but she raised her head and looked up at him. “I hope Valeris is all right, Daddy. What do you think is happening? Do you think he convinced them to listen to him?”

David held her tighter as he kissed her on the head. “I hope so sweetheart,” he whispered. “I hope so.”

[Kathy W 2200]

PART THIRTY-NINE


July 7, 1947, 9:30 a.m.

Pohlman Ranch


Private Spade leaned against a tree in the blazing summer sun, a cigarette dangling from his shaking hand. He watched, stony-faced, as the alien’s body was carried off the ship, attracting a gaping crowd just like the last time. Well, perhaps not just like the last time. Last time he had been part of that gaping crowd. This time he wasn’t in the mood.

He heard footsteps, and turned to see Major Marcel approaching. Spade looked away, taking another drag of his cigarette. He’d heard enough so far to have a very good idea of what was going down. In the next few minutes he was going to have to decide what, if anything, he was going to do about it.

“Private,” Marcel said by way of greeting. “Are you all right?”

“No, sir,” Spade replied shortly, not bothering to salute or even glance at his commanding officer. “No, sir, I am not all right.”

Marcel ignored Spade’s breach of protocol. “Why not?”

Now Spade did turn to look at Marcel. “I just saw a surrendering prisoner shot while he was standing with his arms in the air. I would hope that I wouldn’t be ‘all right’ with that.” He paused, looking over at Cavitt and West, who appeared mighty chummy. “I would hope no one would be ‘all right’ with that.”

Marcel followed Spade’s gaze. “Private West says the creature was moving to attack, and that’s why he fired,” Marcel said. “I take it you dispute that version of events?”

“I do,” Spade said flatly. “The creature had surrendered. I told West that. Several times. I ordered him to lower his weapon, back away, and go get you. Instead, he freaked out and shot it.”

Marcel paused for a moment, looking at the crowd. “Captain Cavitt also says the creature was attacking,” Marcel said slowly, watching Spade’s expression. “He claims he arrived on the scene to find you and the creature engaged in combat, and that he watched West shoot it to save you.”

Spade turned an astonished face toward Marcel. Throwing his cigarette to the ground, he ground it into the sand with an angry stamp of his foot and reached into his pocket for another, his third in the last hour. He’d known the prevaricating would infuriate him, but even he hadn’t expected it to be this bad.

“Do you wish to dispute that version of events, Private?” Marcel was asking.

Spade lit his new ciggie and inhaled deeply. “Permission to speak freely, sir. Very freely.” Marcel raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

“Captain Cavitt was nowhere near that room when this went down. He walked in a good five minutes later while West was having a nervous breakdown because he’d just shot a surrendering prisoner. Cavitt has no idea what happened in there. And if he tells you anything different—well then, sir, I’m afraid Captain Cavitt is a lying son of a bitch.”

Both of Marcel’s eyebrows were somewhere in the stratosphere now, but all he said was, “And Private West?”

“Private West is covering his ass, pure and simple. He screwed up, he knows it, and he said so, both to me and to Cavitt. He was balling like a baby in there, carrying on about how sorry he was. And now he’s over there making up some ridiculous story to cover his butt. Figures,” Spade finished sourly.

Marcell sighed. “Private, I don’t think I need to point out to you that this ‘story’, as you call it, isn’t ridiculous at all. Something in that vessel killed two of our men. These…creatures have already attacked; it’s not a stretch to believe they did so again.”

“Maybe not,” Spade replied angrily. “But I’m telling you, Major, that is not what happened. That thing surrendered, and I accepted that surrender. You do know what that means, don’t you? It means it willingly became my prisoner. It means we can’t shoot a prisoner unless they become violent. We certainly don’t shoot them just because they’re standing there. It was willing to talk in exchange for its life. It was not attacking me. West knows that. He’s lying through his teeth.”

“Is that what you want in the official report, Private?” Marcel asked carefully.

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that both Cavitt and West are going on the record with their version of events, which directly contradicts yours. Are you sure you want to do that?”

Spade stared at him. “Is that a threat?”

“Think of it as a ‘heads up’, Private,” Marcel said pragmatically. “It’s two against one. Who do you think everyone is going to believe?”

Spade took another long drag of his cigarette. “You want me to throw my hat in the ring, don’t you? Go along with the crowd. Tow the party line.”

“I want you to think carefully about the ramifications of publicly going on the record disputing Captain Cavitt’s word,” Marcel clarified. “He says he witnessed this; you say he didn’t. If you stick to your story, you’re basically calling him a liar.”

“So? What if he is a liar?”

Marcel sighed. “Son, maybe this isn’t the best time to get into that. We know they’re hostile. Even is this one wasn’t hostile at the moment, who’s to say it wouldn’t have turned hostile later?”

“How do we know they’re hostile?” Spade demanded. “Granted, it didn’t walk up and introduce itself, but neither did we—we shot it.” He took another pull from his cigarette, which was almost half gone already. “Fact is, Major, we don’t know what they’re doing here. Cavitt just assumes they’re hostile because he wants to be the biggest bully on the playground. Somebody bigger just showed up, and he wants to grind them into the dust to make it clear who’s boss. That’s it, plain and simple, and you know it. We all went to school with creeps like him.”

“So I take it you’re going with your original story?” Marcel asked.

“You know what the worst part about this is?” Spade fumed. “It’s not West losing his marbles; that can happen to anyone. It’s not him lying to cover his ass; we all do that sometimes. It’s not even Cavitt swaggering around assuming the sky is falling, because I have to admit he might be right. No, the worst part is that they’re calling me a liar. It’s bad enough that they screwed over this country’s rules of how to treat a surrendering prisoner and lied throught their collective teeth, but now they’ve screwed me. Now it’s personal. My ‘story’ stands.”

“Very well then,” Marcel said resignedly. “I hope you know what you’re doing.” He turned to leave, then paused. “You’ll have a day or two to retract your statement. You could claim shock, or something like that. I’m sure the Captain would understand.”

Spade’s eyes burned. “The Captain can go to hell. Sir.”

Marcel shook his head and began to walk away.

“Major?”

Marcel turned. “Yes?”

“You do realize that Cavitt is just as likely to drag your name through the mud, don’t you? If I were you, I’d watch my back.”

Marcel gave him a level stare, then walked away without a word.

Spade watched him leave, his stomach clenched in a tight knot, then shifted his attention to the crowd gathered around the creature. The contempt on their faces was clear even from this distance. Not long ago he had shared that contempt; now he felt more contempt for his fellow humans than for the small gray figure lying on the stretcher. Ironic, isn’t it? he thought bitterly. It behaved better than we did. Spoke better English too.

A rustling sound made him turn his head to see a hawk fly out of the open hatch of the craft. Spade studied it carefully, wondering if he’d been right the first time. And if he had been right, wondering what had happened to the one he had whacked.

He should have been surprised when the bird flew toward the crowd, but he wasn’t. Nor was he surprised when the bird circled the center of the crowd where the body lay as if in benediction, before flying south with an angry squawk. Nothing much would ever surprise Spade again.



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



Proctor residence




George Wilcox parked his cruiser on the street in front of the Proctor’s house and turned to look at David. “I’ll send a couple of deputies around with your car. Just give me the keys.”

David fished in his pocket with difficulty, given that Dee was on his lap and sound asleep with her head on his shoulder. Handing over the keys, he said, “Thanks, George. For everything.” George nodded, and David started to get out of the car.

“One more thing,” George said. “You never told me why they were here.”

David paused, his hand on the door. “They said they were hiding from a war.” George snorted.

“What?” David asked.

“It just seems wrong, doesn’t it?” George asked. “People who can build a ship like that and travel such distances should’ve figured all that out by now.”

“They’re technologically superior, but that doesn’t mean they’re culturally superior,” David said. “From what little I’ve heard, their society suffers from all the problems we have.”

“So. That means it doesn’t get any better,” George said softly.

“No,” David replied. “It doesn’t mean our problems aren’t fixable; it just means that gadgets won’t fix them for us.”

George was silent for a moment, then sighed deeply. “I suppose so. Look, we should get our stories straight. I think we should stick with the one we already have: Dee was with Emily last night, and you were helping to move a friend who’d had a marital dispute. You came through checkpoints several times, so that shouldn’t be a problem to corroborate—even if you did have creatures from another planet with you at the time,” he added ironically. He cast a sly look at David. “So that gorgeous, generously built woman with you was an alien?” David nodded.

George let out a long, low whistle. “Woo hoo! That one has an eye for the human ladies!”

David rolled his eyes, but smiled. If any of them had an eye for the ladies, it would be James. Then he sobered, wondering where James was now, and if he was even alive. Or if he should be wishing he were alive, considering what they were likely to do to him.

Pushing the thought aside, David climbed awkwardly out of the car. Dee wasn’t big for her age, but she was solid, and she was almost nine, so she wasn’t tiny. He allowed himself a moment’s nostalgia for the time not so long ago when she was small enough to fit comfortably under his chin, and light enough that he could carry her for hours. She seemed huge now, heavy as lead. When was the last time he had carried her? He couldn’t remember now. He made a mental note to keep better track of such things. The past twenty-four hours had reminded him once again that life was all too fleeting.

He shut the car door with his hip and leaned in the window. “Thanks again, George. I’ve got the story straight, in case they’re still snooping.”

But George was looking away. “You may wish the Army would show up again. I’ll wager they’d be easier to convince than who you’ve got waiting for you.”

David followed George’s gaze to the front porch of his own house, where his wife, Emily, was standing, hands on hips. Good Lord; he’d forgotten all about her. He’d planned to be back before she got home this morning, but that plan, of course, had gone completely out the window. So she’d come home to an empty house: No husband, no daughter, no note. Her expression was a dead giveaway; she looked like a walking thundercloud.

George shot David a sympathetic look. “What are you going to tell her?”

David closed his eyes. God, he was tired. He wanted nothing more than to collapse on the couch and nap for a week, but he suspected he wasn’t going to get the chance. Not for a while, at least.

“I’ll tell her what Dee told me. The truth.”

George looked skeptical, but shrugged. “Best of luck with that.” Then he pulled away, leaving David standing on the sidewalk holding his daughter.

Thanks, David thought wearily as he looked into his wife’s flinty eyes. I’ll need all the luck I can get.




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



Pod Chamber




Brivari opened his eyes. Staring at the rock walls surrounding him, he tried to remember where he was and how he had come to be here. Then he moved to sit up, and the pain that exploded through his left arm and leg served nicely as a reminder.

He heaved himself to a sitting position, grimacing at the sharp pangs coming from what what appeared to be everywhere. He had managed to knit the bones in his arm, but it was still stiff. His leg was another matter. The blow from the human had produced multiple fractures with tiny pieces of bone drifting around, causing sharp pains as the shards collided with muscles and other tissue. Those splinters would need to be dissolved before he could truly use his leg again, and he simply did not have the strength to do that alone. He needed the stones.

“Tell me again what wave of idiocy convinced you that leaving us in this predicament was wise,” said a voice nearby.

Brivari turned his head. Jaddo was standing in the doorway to the Granolith chamber. Not this again, Brivari thought wearily.

“Couldn’t you at least have waited until we were safely hidden?” Jaddo continued, more with amazement then anger.

“I did wait, until almost the last minute,” Brivari said irritably. “Arguably I waited too long. I seriously considered having Valeris do it before we reached Earth.” When Jaddo stared at him, astonished, Brivari continued, “Do you have any idea what would happen if the humans got a hold of the Granolith?”

“No,” Jaddo replied flatly. “You have told me so little about this device, I’m afraid I don’t.”

“Prior to its alteration, anyone with the control crystal could operate it,” Brivari said, painfully moving his shattered leg. “Humans have only recently harnessed the power of the atom. They don’t know how to use that power for anything other than destruction. Just imagine what they would do with something like this, something so far beyond their knowledge base that they have no hope of understanding it. Now they are unable to operate it.”

“You could have keyed it to our DNA as well as that of the hybrids,” Jaddo pointed out. “Was it really necessary to strand me here?”

“I”ve been over this already,” Brivari said impatiently. “You didn’t like the answers the last time, and the answers haven’t changed. Besides, you’re not the only one ‘stranded’ here. We’re all ‘stranded’ here, myself included. I’m in the same boat you are.”

“Yes,” Jaddo said quietly. “A sinking boat.”

“Meaning?”

Jaddo looked at him uncertainly, and Brivari was unnerved to see something akin to concern in his expression. Things must be very bad indeed to stir such feelings in Jaddo. “Tell me what has happened,” Brivari demanded.

Jaddo looked back toward the Granolith, as though looking away made it easier to speak. “Valeris has been wounded and captured, Brivari. The humans have taken him to a nearby military base.” He paused for a moment, letting the impact of the news sink in.

Brivari closed his eyes. No. Not Valeris. Valeris was his oldest friend, the only one of the four he trusted implicitly. First his Ward, now his best friend, and at the last minute too, when they thought they had finally achieved some measure of safety. Fate was just too cruel.

“There’s more,” Jaddo continued. “I overheard humans talking about another ‘prisoner’. I gather that Urza was wounded also, and likely taken to the same base.”

Brivari swallowed hard. “Do they live?”

“I have no idea if Urza is alive. I couldn’t get close enough to Valeris to tell. I overheard one of the humans say he was alive, but only barely, when they took him from the ship. I gather he tried to give himself up to them, and one of them panicked and attacked him.”

Could this get any worse? Brivari thought miserably. The humans didn’t realize what Valeris was capable of; if they had imprisoned him, he would have been able to easily escape. But wounded…..? Now they needed the stones more than ever.

“Did you get inside the ship? What of the hybrids and the stones?”

Jaddo nodded. “The ship was empty for some time while they gawked over Valeris,” he said, his voice dripping contempt. “The hybrids are in the incubator in the lab, just as we thought; it was disconnected and sealed shut. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to get them out; there were still too many humans around. Hopefully we will have a chance to retrieve them before they are discovered.”

He stopped. Brivari waited for him to continue, finally prodding him, “And the stones? Where are they?”

Jaddo sighed. “Brivari, I tore the ship apart. The stones are not there.”

“What do you mean, ‘not there’? Where else would they be?”

“I don’t know,” Jaddo replied in a frustrated tone. “They should have been in the lab with the hybrids, but they’re not. I looked through every single room, though I see no reason why they would be anywhere other than the lab. Valeris had clearly hidden himself in there; I found blood on the floor. They’re definitely not there, but I can’t imagine where they could be.”

Brivari slumped against the wall, defeated. Without the extra energy from the stones, it might take days to repair his injuries. I asked if this could get any worse, he thought bitterly. Obviously I should have kept my mouth shut. The universe heard me, and responded.

“I suppose there’s a silver lining to this cloud for you,” Brivari said bitterly.

Jaddo looked at him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

“You never liked either Urza or Valeris. If they’re dead, you no longer have to put up with Valeris’s irritating humor or Urza’s irritating incompetence.”

“That is most unfair,” Jaddo said in a wounded tone. “You think I would dance on the graves of our companions?” He paused. “I appear skeptical sometimes because someone has to be, because that point of view is a necessary part of the decision making process—every bit as necessary as Urza’s easy way with the humans, or Valeris’s skill in science. I admit we had our differences, but I never wanted them dead. And I will do everything in my power to retrieve them, even if that only means they will be accorded a proper dispersal.”

Brivari looked away, ashamed. He was angry, frustrated, defeated, and in pain, and he was taking it out on Jaddo.

“I’m sorry,” he said in a ragged voice. “You didn’t deserve that.”

Jaddo didn’t answer. He stared at the Granolith a moment longer before turning toward the door. “I should return to the ship. I will try to find another opportunity to get inside and search. If that proves futile, I will go to the base tonight. If either of them is still alive, they may be able to tell me where the stones are.” He gave Brivari an appraising look. “Will you be all right here alone?”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Brivari replied. “Unfortunately.”

Jaddo nodded. “I will try to locate some food for you. You need your strength if you are to heal your injuries alone.” He didn’t bother speaking aloud what both of them knew; that even under the best of circumstances, repairing an injury of this magnitude without assistance could take days.

“Jaddo,” Brivari called as the door began to open. Jaddo turned to look at him.

“Good luck.”

“I don’t believe in luck,” Jaddo said with an ironic smile. “I believe we make our own luck, be it good or bad.” He shifted to his hawk form, taking longer than usual. He’s getting dangerously tired, Brivari thought. But he’s the only one of us on his feet.

After Jaddo flew away, the door rumbled shut, leaving Brivari fretting in the darkness. He needed those stones. Urza and Valeris might need those stones. Where could they be? Where else would Valeris have hidden them, if not in the lab?

Brivari lay there for several minutes, drifting in and out of consciousness as he alternately pondered this question, attempted to heal himself, or half slept. It was during one of those hazy moments between sleep and wakefulness that he remembered what both he and Jaddo had forgotten. He jerked awake, completely alert for the first time in hours.

The child.

Of course. That was it. That had to be it. He had forgotten all about the human girl who had stayed with the ship while her nosy father had ferried the sacs to the pod chamber. Where was she? Jaddo hadn’t mentioned her, and he certainly would have if he’d heard or seen anything of her. More importantly, it appeared the humans hadn’t mentioned her. Which meant she must have escaped somehow, and Brivari was willing to bet that when she had left she had taken a small bag of stones with her.

Feeling an energy now that he hadn’t known he possessed, Brivari tried to shift. It took him several minutes, and he had to stop several times to rest, but he managed to attain the form of a hawk. Gingerly, he moved his wing, which had previously been his broken left arm. It was stiff, but patent. His leg was another matter, but fortunately one did not need a leg for flying.




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



Proctor residence



David Proctor walked up the steps to his house, his sleeping daughter cradled in his arms. His wife blocked the doorway, and her expression was worrisome. Apprehension he expected. Annoyance he expected. With the car and her family gone, she would probably assume they’d gone out somewhere and forgotten to leave a note. But the fear David saw in Emily’s eyes was worse than the garden variety, where-could-they-be type of fear. Something had frightened her badly.

“Hi,” David said, deciding to keep things simple to start with.

“Is Dee okay?” Emily asked in a tightly controlled voice, as though she were barely restraining herself from strangling him.

“Yes.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.”

Emily stepped aside, and David walked through the door and straight up the front stairs. He settled Dee in her bed, still clutching that little bag, while Emily stood stoicly in the doorway. Dee murmured a little as he tucked her in, but did not awaken. No wonder. The kid must be exhausted. He certainly was.

David paused for a moment, staring at the shoe that he had just removed from his daughter’s foot. The Army had the other shoe, and no one must know it was hers. Later on, when he had the strength, he’d make certain no one would ever find it, but for now he contented himself with tucking it way, way under the bed. When he stood up, Emily was looking at him with wide eyes.

He went back downstairs, his wife following in silence, and began making coffee. Emily produced cups and spoons without saying a word. The silence was eerie; any moment now he expected her to just start screaming. As they waited for the water to heat, David mentally ticked through a list of ways he could begin to explain.

Honey, there’s an alien spaceship crashed on Mac’s ranch, and we went for a visit.

Honey, Dee made friends with some people from outer space, and we helped them out. Oh, and by the way, she saw a couple of soldiers killed, and two of her alien friends are probably dead, or will be soon.

Honey, we spent the night with aliens, but don’t tell the Army. They’d come after us.

No matter how he phrased it, it sounded insane. She’d never believe it; why should she? The only evidence he had was that ship fragment upstairs under Dee’s mattress. Well, that and the x-rays at the hospital, but it was probably better to keep those to himself for the moment.

The coffee was hot. David came to with a jolt, glancing at his still silent wife, who was looking at him suspiciously. Had he really been sitting here that long, staring into space? He poured two cups and headed for the living room, setting Emily’s cup on an end table and sinking gratefully into a chair. She ignored the coffee, beginning to pace instead, back and forth, back and forth, right in front of him. Oh, that’s bad. He paced when he was worried and needed to think; she paced when she was furious. He sipped his coffee and waited for the bombs to fly.

“Do you want to tell me where the two of you were last night?”

David leaned his head wearily against the chair. “Do I ‘want’ to? Actually, no.”

“Fine,” his wife said tersely. “Why don’t you just listen to what I’ve been doing lately.”

David blinked. What had she been doing other than sitting here and waiting? But he certainly had no objection to her going first. “Okay. What have you been doing?”

Emily continued pacing, arms folded across her chest. “For starters, I get home at 7 o’clock this morning and find the house empty. My husband’s gone. My daughter’s gone. The car is gone. No indication anywhere of where you were. So I went next door to see if Rose knew where you were. And do you know what I found over there?”

Probably, David thought, staring at his cup.

“Rose was practially hysterical,” Emily went on. “She claimed Mac had been ‘taken’ by the Army because they thought he knew about some plane or something that had crashed on Mac’s ranch. She said soldiers had kept her in her house until very early this morning, when they all suddenly just up and disappeared.” She paused for breath. “And then she told me the most disturbing part of all of this: That Dee had disappeared last night, and the last time she saw you was when you were wandering the neighborhood looking for her. She seemed to think the Army might be after her! What on earth would the Army want with our eight year-old daughter?”

Emily glared at him, obviously waiting for an answer. David could tell she still wasn’t finished with her story, and he wanted to hear all of it before being forced to decide how to present this whole mess to her. So all he said was, “That’s true. All of it. I was here when the Army came for Mac, and I watched as they took him away.”

“You didn’t answer my question,” Emily said pointedly.

“I know. I will, Em, I will. But first I want to hear the rest. There’s more, right?”

Emily considered for a moment, as if pondering whether to pursue full disclosure immediately. She apparently decided against it. “Rose offered to drive me into town to see if we could find you or spot the car anywhere. I ran into Helen Thompson, who is a nurse at the hospital, and do you know what she asked me?”

Oh, no.. David had asked Dr. Watson not to mention the x-rays to his wife, but he’d forgotten that other people knew about them.

“She asked me,” Emily said with a hint of panic in her voice, “how Dee had gotten her skull fracture. Skull fracture? Skull fracture?! David, what in the name of God was she talking about? Dee never had a skull fracture! But when I told her that, she protested that you had been to the hospital only yesterday and had x-rays taken. Now, I want to know,” she said, nailing David with a piercing look, “was Dee hurt while I was gone?”

David considered a long moment before answering. “No. She wasn’t hurt while you were gone, and she doesn’t have a skull fracture.” Which is technically true, he thought guiltily. Dee had been injured—and healed—on the night of the fourth, when Emily was still here.

“Then what was Helen talking about?” Emily demanded.

“Em, I promise I’ll explain everything, but first I want to hear it all. All of this does make sense—in a way,” David finished lamely, looking away from the astonished expression of disbelief on his wife’s face.

Emily paused, staring at him for a long moment. “Okay,” she finally said, standing up again. “I will hold you to that.” Resuming her pacing, she continued. “We didn’t find you in town, so finally we gave up and came home, hoping you’d be back. You weren’t. But there were soldiers on Rose’s front porch. They wanted to know where she’d been, and when she told them, they wanted to know why I didn’t know where you were.”

David felt dread stirring in his stomach. “What did you tell them?”

Emily set her lips in a thin line. “I told them nothing. I asked them why they wanted to know, and they wouldn’t say. I told them I expected you back any minute, and when they persisted, I told them it was none of their goddamned business. And then I threw them off her porch.” She smiled a grim smile. “They won’t be back anytime soon.”

David smiled. He could just imagine the scene. His wife could be truly terrifying when she got her dander up, and he felt a momentary pang of sympathy for whatever hapless soldiers had been caught in the crosshairs of her wrath. “Then what?”

“Then I waited. And waited,” Emily said. “Rose stayed home in the hopes that Mac would come back, and I walked around this empty house, trying, and failing, to put it all together. So now you will put it all together for me.” She pulled up a chair and sat down opposite David, folding her arms across her chest and making it very clear that the ball was in his court.

David sat back in his chair and studied his wife. He wasn’t certain how she would take this. Emily was no typical woman; she’d been a tomboy herself, and she was raising one. She was the reason Dee preferred dungarees to dresses, baseball to baby dolls. She was practical, intelligent, a force to be reckoned with. If he could make her believe, she would be a formidable ally. And therin lay the problem. Making her believe required proof, and he had no proof. Just a weird piece of metal and some unexplainable x-rays.

“Do you want the truth?” he asked her slowly.

Emily blinked. “Of course I want the truth, David. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re going to find the truth very hard to believe,” David answered softly.

His wife’s eyes narrowed. “Try me.”

“Okay.” David looked her right in the eyes. “The Army did find something on Pohlman Ranch. It’s a crashed alien spaceship. Dee found the ship a few days ago and befriended some of the people on it. That’s where we were last night, and that’s why the Army wants us. Now,” he continued, as he watched his wife go rigid, “before you blow a gasket, consider this: Why would I make up something like that? If I were going to lie to you—and you know perfectly well I don’t lie to you—wouldn’t I come up with something more plausible, something you would be likely to believe?”

Emily sat silently, arms crossed, fingers drumming on her elbows. “Is that it?”

“Hell, no!” David said truthfully. “That’s not even close to being ‘it’. That’s just a brief summary; it’ll take hours to tell you the rest, and I can’t even tell you all of it. Dee’ll have to do that.”

Several minutes passed, the silence growing increasingly uncomfortable, before either of them spoke again.

“I imagine you have proof of this ridiculous story?” Emily asked in a stony voice.



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




<Child! Child!>

Upstairs in her bedroom, Dee Proctor opened her eyes. Had someone been calling her? She looked around the empty room, blinking at the sunlight streaming through the window and trying to remember how she’d gotten here. Then she looked down at the bag clutched in her hand, and it all came flooding back.

Opening the bag, she dumped the contents beside her on the bed. Sunlight glinted off the stones, making them shimmer, and Dee recalled with a lump in her throat her last attempt to make these work. Had they been able to help James? Had they even tried? And what about Valeris? Had someone been willing to listen to him?

Propping herself up on one elbow, Dee stuffed the stones back into the bag. She needed to get these to the others—assuming there were “others” left to receive them, that is. Brivari and Jaddo hadn’t shown up, and that couldn’t be good news.

<Child! I need you…>

Dee sat bolt upright in bed. She had heard something! Thought speech, from the sounds of it. And that meant at least one of them was alive!

<Where are you?>

<Injured…..flying…….the window….>

<Hang on—I’m coming!> she said, climbing out of bed, not bothering to wonder why whoever it was could hear her. The voice was familiar, but frightfully weak. She couldn’t tell which of them it was, but at this point she didn’t much care. One of them was alive, and that was good news.

Dee raised her bedroom window from its halfway open position and hung out, searching the bright summer sky for the source of the voice. She wasn’t long in finding it; a hawk, swerving crazily toward her, dipping so low it brushed the lawn, then fighting to rise again, struggling to remain airborne.

<Here!> she called, waving her hands. <Over here!> The bird careened toward the sound of her “voice”, and she jerked backwards as it rocketed through the window and landed with a sickening thump on her bed.

Dee hastily shut the window and turned toward her bed, eyes wide as saucers. The hawk lay motionless, eyes closed. It looked dead.

<Hello?> she tried tentatively. No answer.

“Hello?” she repeated in physical speech. Nothing.

Walking slowly to the bed, Dee put out her hand to touch the bird. She couldn’t tell if it’s tiny chest was rising and falling by looking at it, so if she could just bring herself to touch it, maybe that would settle the question. She brought her hand within inches of the hawk’s feathered breast…..

…….only to pull it back in alarm as the figure on the bed began to change; melting, reforming, but not all the way, then melting again. Just like James had. But at least it had been dark in the confines of the ship; here it was broad daylight, and watching that frantic alien thrashing was truly horrifying.

“Daddy?” Dee called in a panicky voice, backing against the bedroom wall. “Daddy!”



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




“Well?” Emily was demanding. “You can’t expect me to believe a fanciful tale like that without proof, David!”

David stood up. “There’s a piece of the metal from the alien’s ship upstairs under Dee’s mattress. I’ll…..”

He stopped short as their daughter’s horrified voice called from upstairs. David and Emily stared at one another with wide eyes for just a second before both bolted for the second floor, their pounding feet sounding like a lot more than just two people.

Emily got there first. The expression on her face spoke volumes. One of them must be in there, and Emily was no doubt wondering what a strange man was doing in her eight year-old daughter’s bedroom.

But when David entered the room and saw exactly what his wife and daughter were staring at, he decided that finding a strange man in her bedroom would have been preferable. The shape on the bed was a molten mass of flesh, alternately growing and shrinking, appearing vaguely animalistic one moment, vaguely humanoid the next. David was no expert on shapeshifting, but it was clear even to him that something was wrong here.

“James did this when he was shot,” Dee said faintly. Her eyes were wide, but she no longer sounded frightened. “I think it’s what they do when they’re in pain. He’s hurt.”

“What is that?” Emily whispered, unable to take her eyes off the twisting shape on her daughter’s bed.

David looked at her gravely. “That’s your proof.”

[Kathy W 2200]

PART FORTY


July 7, 1947, 10:15 a.m.

Proctor residence




“Which one is it?” David asked Dee, as they all stared at the quivering mass on her bed. Emily’s eyes were wide, but she said nothing.

“I don’t know,” Dee answered, shaking her head. “Does it matter?”

“No,” David replied, feeling slightly abashed for even asking the question. “No, of course it ……….” He stopped, as the thing on the bed began to shift furiously, struggling, fighting to attain….something. Slowly, and with obvious difficulty, it coalesced into a form: Long legs, one of which lay at an odd angle, small head, short fingers. Human.

Brivari.

David glanced at his wife, wondering how she would take this. He still had vivid memories of the day the two of them had stood outside his brother’s apartment as the building supervisor had unlocked the door. The smell that assaulted them when the door was opened had made it all too clear what had happened.

It had been Emily who had squared her shoulders and entered that apartment, leaving two war veterans frozen in the doorway, unwilling to look. It had been Emily who returned minutes later, ashen-faced, to report what she had found. It had been Emily who made the phone calls, the funeral arrangements, and did the dozens of other things that must be done when someone suddenly ceases to exist. She had been heartbroken, exhausted, shaken to the core, but she had never flinched from what needed to be done. Not once.

Nor was she flinching now. As David watched, her expression changed from one of shock to one of appraisal, and he felt himself mentally release a huge sigh of relief. Not only did she now believe him—hard not to, he must admit—but she was squaring her shoulders again, preparing to do what must be done. David had just gained a powerful ally, and if they behaved themselves, so had Brivari and his people.

Emily stepped closer, peering at the figure on the bed which was curled on its right side in a fetal position. Any other woman would no doubt have begun by objecting to the presence of a naked man on her daughter’s bed, regardless of the circumstances. But Emily wasn’t just any woman. She tended to get right to the point.

“David, look at his leg,” she commanded.

David moved around the bed to get a better look. He hadn’t technically been a medic in the war, but having that title was something of a formality; they had all been medics, out of necessity. David knew a broken leg when he saw one, and this one was bad.

He felt the leg with practiced hands, moving it a little, drawing a gasp of pain from its owner. He wasn’t surprised to find bone poking through the skin, nor was he surprised to hear his daughter wince behind him. His wife, however, was right beside him. As usual.

“That’s a compound fracture,” she said, “probably more than one compound fracture. What do we do?”

David looked helplessly from the shattered leg to his family. He could splint the leg, but it wouldn’t do any good—fractures this severe required prompt surgery. They couldn’t very well bring him to a hospital; the doctors would be bound to notice a few things. David raked his gaze over the rest of the form on the bed, looking for any other injuries, and his eyes fell on Brivari’s face. For just a moment his eyes flicked open, fixing David with an anguished stare.

David stared back, feeling pity wash away his initial disappointment when he’d found out who it was that was once again asking for their help. He knew that look. There was pain there, of course, and fear, but something else as well: Humiliation. If Brivari really was a king’s guardian, this must be quite a comedown for him. He prided himself on being in control and here he was, injured and helpless, once again in a position where he needed help from those he…. David paused, reflecting that the word he’d been about to use, despised, was wrong. Brivari didn’t despise them. His demeanor was not one of disdain, like that other one, but of wariness, mistrust. He disliked having to place his life in the hands of those who could easily turn on him, and after what had happened to the other two, who could blame him?

Reaching across Brivari, David pulled up the bedspread, wrapping it around him, arranging it carefully so that his injured leg was uncovered so as not to get threads tangled up in the exposed bone. Might as well let the man have his dignity.

“I don’t know what to do,” he said heavily. “He needs surgery, but we can’t take him to a hospital. This is way beyond first aid.”

“The stones,” Dee whispered behind him.

David turned to look at her. “What?”

“The stones!” she replied, reaching for the little bag up by her pillow. “I used them on James and Valeris. They were both shot, but I bet these work on broken legs too.” As she spoke she opened the bag and dumped the contents on the pillow.

“Shot?” Emily said faintly.

“Later,” David said firmly. “What are those?” he asked Dee, looking at the five amber-colored rocks.

“Valeris called them ‘healing stones’,” Dee said, picking up one of them. “They let them use your energy to fix themselves. Watch.” She sat down cross-legged on the floor, cupped the stone in her hands, and closed her eyes. It immediately began glowing.

“Wait!” Emily ordered.

Dee opened her eyes. “What’s happening?” her mother demanded.

“It’s okay, Mama,” Dee assured her. “I did this before. Several times.”

After glancing at David, who nodded silently, Emily reluctantly backed off and Dee closed her eyes again.

The stone began to glow, brighter, brighter. On the bed, Brivari began to convulse. There was a cracking sound and, as David and Emily watched in amazement, the visible ends of bone protruding from the leg receded somewhat, and the skin began to close over the wound. More cracking sounds followed as the leg moved slightly, becoming straighter. Dee was sweating and shaking, her eyes screwed tightly shut as though she were doing something very hard.

Then everything stopped. The glow from the stone died, Brivari stopped twitching, and Dee leaned, exhausted, against her bedside table.

“What happened?” David asked worriedly, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Are you all right?”

“I’m okay,” Dee said. “He needs more energy than I have to give him. I’m really tired,” she added, almost apologetically.

“Well, he’ll just have to wait,” Emily said firmly, reaching for the stone in Dee’s hands. “Whatever you did helped him somewhat. You can try again la…..” She stopped, flabbergasted, and stared at the stone she had just picked up.

The stone was glowing, just as it had for Dee but with much more intensity. In mere seconds it assumed a brilliance that made them all squint. Emily gasped and went rigid, her eyes wide, unseeing. The figure on the bed convulsed violently. Alarmed, David moved to take the stone from his wife’s hands, but Dee stopped him. “Look!” she cried, pulling herself to her knees and pointing.

David followed her gaze and watched as the bones still protruding from Brivari’s leg slipped completely back inside his leg, the skin closing smoothly over them. He looked back at his wife. Emily’s eyes were still wide, her face transfixed. Perspiration started to bead on her upper lip, and she was shaking.

“Enough!” David exclaimed, knocking the stone from her hands. It clattered away across the wooden floor, and David caught her as she slumped into the nearby rocking chair, dazed.

“What happened?” David asked for the second time in as many minutes. “Are you okay?”

Dee was positively bursting with admiration. “Wow! They never worked that well for me! You must be really strong, Mama!”

“Thanks—I think,” Emily said skeptically. “No, I’m all right,” she objected, pushing away her husband’s solicitous hands.

“This is great!” Dee enthused, reaching for another stone. “If we both use the stones, we can fix him even faster, and then he can go and get the others, and…”

But Emily caught her daughter’s wrist, fixing her with one of her famous “don’t mess with me” stares. “Before anyone does anything more, I want to know who this….person….is. And how you know him.”

Dee looked up at David, who hesitated. Brivari’s timely arrival had spared him the near-impossible job of proving the existence of space aliens, but explaining just exactly how they knew him was complicated at best, downright messy at worst.

But his daughter had her mother’s habit of getting right to the point, eschewing lengthy explanations in favor of the one thing that mattered most to her—and would likely matter most to her mother.

“His name is Brivari, and he saved my life,” Dee said simply.

Emily paled, looking back and forth from her daughter, to her husband, to the figure on the bed. “Saved….your life?” she echoed.

“Do you remember asking me about the skull fracture?” David murmured.

Emily looked at him in alarm. “He is how she got the skull fracture?” she asked, pointing to Brivari.

“No. He’s the reason she lived through it,” David said quietly.

“I see,” Emily said staring at him for only a moment before announcing her verdict. “Well. That settles it then.” She held out her hand. “Hand me another stone.”

“Not now,” David protested. “Both you and Dee have already helped him once; he’s much better now. You can try again later.”

“Nonsense,” Emily said firmly. “I’m fine, David. I agree that Dee shouldn’t, but there’s no reason for me not to try again now. I wasn’t prepared for it the first time—now I am.” David didn’t budge, his face set.

“Look, his leg is still broken,” Emily said sensibly. “At least let me fix his leg.”

His wife had that look of determination in her eyes that told him argument would only delay the inevitable, so David gave up. Turning around, he reached for another of the stones on the pillow, then hesitated. Would it erupt in brilliance at his touch like it had for his wife? His hand hovered, uncertain.

Then Dee reached up, taking one the stones and holding it out to her mother. Emily tapped it gingerly with her finger as though afraid it might sprout teeth and bite her. But nothing happened, so she carefully took the stone and looked uncertainly at her daughter. “What do I do?” she asked, staring at the rock in her hand. “I really don’t know how I did what I did the last time.”

“Just think about fixing him,” Dee advised. “I usually close my eyes when I do it,” she added helpfully.

Emily gave a tentative nod and settled back into the rocking chair, cupping the stone in her hands and closing her eyes. The stone immediately began to glow brilliantly, flooding the room with light. Dee looked up at Brivari and smiled as he began to twitch once more.



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


Pod Chamber



Jaddo entered the pod chamber, carefully setting down the food he’d managed to acquire. If there was any hope of rescuing their companians and the hybrids, he would need Brivari’s help. And if Brivari had any hope of repairing his injuries alone, he would need to rest and eat. Jaddo had managed one more foray into the ship, once again failing to find the healing stones. The hybrids were still safely hidden, but one of those meddling humans was bound to open the incubators sooner or later. It was only a matter of time.

“Brivari?” Jaddo called into the gloom. “Wake up. I’ve brought you something to eat and….” He stopped, confused.

Brivari was gone.

Slowly at first, then with growing panic, Jaddo searched first the forechamber, then the Granolith chamber. Nothing. He searched both chambers again, knowing full well he wouldn’t find anything. Fool!, Jaddo swore loudly. What did Brivari think he could accomplish in his condition? Devotion was all well and good, but not when it rendered one idiotic.

Angry as he was, Jaddo leaned against the wall and forced himself to think. He had just come from the crash site, and he hadn’t seen Brivari there. Nor had he seen him on the way back, and that was likely bad news. Brivari had probably tried to get back to the ship and had his strength fail partway there. Which meant he was now lying in a ditch, or a tree, or worse, and Jaddo was going to have to play hide and seek to find him.

Jaddo opened the door, cursing again. He did not need this now. The last thing he needed was one more person missing, one more person to rescue. For all that Brivari complained about Zan, they were so much alike: They both thought they were invincible. Zan found out that was not the case. And you might too, unless you’re lucky enough to have me find you first, Jaddo thought grimly, as he took to the air to hunt.



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




Pohlman Ranch



Deputy Valenti plopped his hat down on the hood of his cruiser and folded his arms in frustration. After a few minutes spent fuming in the hot July sun, he thought better of it and replaced his hat on his head. He was already steamed enough about events this morning. No sense letting himself get genuinely steamed.

Valenti had spent the entire morning trying to dig up information on the strange craft that could clearly be seen in the distance. One would think that would be easy, what with about a hundred soldiers crawling around the area and more on the way. One would think, but one would be mistaken. No one was talking. No one would say what the craft was, how it had been found, or if anything or anyone had been found inside. No one would say exactly who had been carried off in the ambulance he had seen, vaguely referring to an injured soldier. Valenti snorted; injured soldier, my ass. He had seen the crowd gathered around that ambulance, and he knew damned well that an injured soldier wouldn’t draw a crowd like that.

Rebuffed by the rank and file, Valenti had finally turned to the people in charge, a Captain Cavitt and a Major Marcel. Marcel had made shady references to a Russian aircraft, but it was clear to anyone with working eyeballs that this was no Russian aircraft, or any kind of aircraft for that matter. Cavitt had been more blunt. “Your jurisdiction is confined to Roswell, Deputy. This falls under Chaves County. You have no business here. Have a nice day.”

Up yours, Valenti thought bitterly. They were lying, all of them. Valenti was still slightly wet behind the ears, but he knew a liar when he saw one. You could tell by the eyes, by the way the liar wouldn’t look at you directly, preferring instead to look around you, or through you. You could tell by the voice, which, depending on the liar’s experience, could become startled and panicky or carefully controlled. Valenti had developed somewhat of a nose for liars, and this place absolutely reeked. Whoever had silenced everyone had done their job well.

Which made the subject of the girl he had seen jump from the strange craft all the more perplexing. Because people were not lying when they told him they hadn’t the faintest idea what he was talking about. No one else had seen the child with the single red sneaker jump from the craft and run to the three figures on the nearby hill. The first few times he had asked, people had looked at him strangely, like perhaps he was suffering from heat exhaustion. So he’d taken to inquiring in more roundabout ways. He’d still come up empty, and his nose for lies smelled nothing amiss here—no one had seen what he had seen.

Now, standing in the baking sun, Valenti was beginning to question whether he had seen it. He had been quite a ways away; could he have made a mistake? But the mental image of that small figure, so completely incongruent, was still clear. Still, how was it that nobody else had seen her? How could they have missed her? He had watched her weave among the crowd; there was no possible way that everyone could have missed her.

Valenti’s gaze strayed to the rise beyond the damaged craft. Everyone hadn’t missed her. The three people on the hill knew what was going on because she had run right up to them. He had been so far away that those three had been mere dots in the distance, but one of them had been wearing a hat that looked vaguely familiar. If only he could place it…..

Shaking his head, Valenti started off for one more look before giving up. It would be a token attempt at best; a Colonel Cassidy had just shown up with another fifty soldiers in tow, so things would likely be locked down tighter than ever now. Valenti watched the Colonel barking orders to Cavitt and noted with grim satisfaction that Cavitt looked distinctly unhappy. Good. Marcel seemed a decent fellow, but Cavitt was an ass.

A group of soldiers deposited boxes in the back of a nearby truck and hurried away, leaving the doors open. Valenti paused, watching. In all the confusion of the new arrivals, the truck was deserted for the moment. He backed toward the truck, eyes shifting right and left, but no one was in close proximity. Peering into the back, it only took a moment for curiosity to overwhelm him. He jumped inside.

Several boxes were piled up. The first box Valenti grabbed held something that resembled silverware, although it seemed much too large. The next contained pieces of what looked like tinfoil. Valenti picked up a piece, marveling at how it flattened when folded. Then he grabbed the next box, and forgot all about cutlery, or strange aircraft, or anything else.

Valenti held his breath as he reached into the box and retrieved his vindication, his proof that he was not hallucinating. A red sneaker, child-sized, looking distinctly out of place amongst all the other odd-looking stuff. He closed his eyes, willing himself to remember which foot had been bare. The right foot. Yes. She had a sneaker on her left foot, but not her right. He opened his eyes and checked. Yep. It was a right sneaker.

His initial elation at have found the sneaker sagged somewhat as he realized this posed more questions than it answered. The Army had the sneaker, but no one was lying to him about not seeing the girl. Was he the only one who knew where this had come from? The only one besides the three on the hill, that is, including the one with the familiar hat. At least this meant he wasn’t going nuts. For awhile there he was afraid he was going to start seeing Jesus in bathtubs, or vampires in outhouses, or spaceships flying overhead. Although judging by the looks of that strange craft, perhaps the spaceship guy hadn’t been senile after all.

Spaceships. Suddenly Valenti remembered where he’d seen that hat. It was the day he’d gotton the phone call from the old guy about a spaceship. The day that Sheriff Hemming had a visitor who had walked down the hall to his office wearing that very same hat.

Tucking the red sneaker as far inside his pocket as he could, Valenti cautiously peered outside before hopping down from the truck and heading back to his cruiser, forcing himself to walk casually. He had a call to pay on the man with the hat, and since no one in the Army seemed to know where this red sneaker had come from, he reckoned they wouldn’t mind if he borrowed it for awhile.



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



Proctor residence



The stone’s glow faded. Dee watched her mother ease back into the rocking chair and open her eyes as her father hovered anxiously. “I’m okay—I’m okay,” her mother said, waving him away. “I’m just a little dizzy, that’s all. Give me a moment. The room is spinning.” She closed her eyes again.

“Look!” Dee said, looking at Brivari’s leg. Her father whistled softly as they stared at the now straight leg with no wound in sight. “Is it all better?”

“I think so,” her mother answered, eyes still closed. “But he seems exhausted. Even if it isn’t all better, I don’t think he can do any more right now.”

“James got that way too,” Dee said. “I could feel all my energy just waiting to be used, but he couldn’t use it.”

“James?”

“The first one of them I met,” Dee explained. “He wouldn’t tell me his name at first, so I named him after Uncle James. His real name is Urza.” She looked back to the bed. “This one is Brivari. His job is to guard a king. The King was hurt in a war, and they brought him here to make him better. Him and the rest of his family.”

Her mother’s eyes flew open. “Another war?” she said in disbelief. “I might have known there was a war behind all this! And you in the middle of it again,” she added severely to David. “What is it about you and volunteering for wars?”

Emily rose abruptly from the rocking chair. “Downstairs. Both of you. Now. I need some answers. And some coffee. Lots of coffee,” she added wearily, heading for the door.

Her father said nothing. Dee watched her mother’s retreating form, knowing perfectly well that her mother wasn’t upset about the aliens’ war. She was upset about their war, the one her father had volunteered for rather than waiting to see if he would be drafted. That was still a sore point with her mother.

“That wasn’t fair,” Dee said to her father after her mother had left. “You didn’t get in the middle of anything; I did. This is my fault,” she finished in a whisper.

“No. No, no, no, no,” David said quietly, sitting down in the rocking chair and pulling her onto his lap. She didn’t object; ordinarily she would have complained that she was too old to be rocked, but now it felt good. Nothing was ordinary now.

“This is not your fault,” her father said firmly, stroking her hair. “And it’s not my fault or your mother’s fault. No one wanted this to happen. It just happened.”

“But now Mama’s mad at you,” Dee whispered.

“Give her some time,” her father said gently. “She’s had…what…a whole forty-five minutes to get used to this? I’ve had an entire day. I’m way ahead of her.”

Dee twisted her head up to look at her father. “That means I’m way ahead of you,” she smiled.

“What else is new?” her father said dryly. He eased out of the rocking chair and set her down on the window bench. “Tell you what—I’ll take the first shift with your Mama. You get some sleep. I’ll bring you up some breakfast a little later.”

Dee sank gratefully onto the window bench. She was so tired. “Good luck,” she whispered as her father bent down to kiss her forehead.

“Now I know how you felt yesterday,” her father said, leaning his forehead against hers. “Advice?”

“Start at the beginning and keep going,” Dee said seriously. “And don’t let her shush you.”

They both smiled. Telling her mother not to shush you was like telling a hurricane not to blow.

“At least your Mama has proof right in front of her,” her father said, tucking her grandmother’s afghan around her. Dee hated sleeping without something over her, even in the summertime. “She won’t have to put me through what I put you through.”

“It’s okay, Daddy,” Dee said. “It was a weird story. And you did listen to me. That’s why you took me to the hospital.”

Her father looked chagrined at this absolution from his offspring. He gave her a rueful smile, took one last look at Brivari, and left.

Just before Dee’s eyes began to close, she heard a rustling sound. The figure on the bed across from her was beginning to shrink. The lump underneath the blanket was growing smaller, the head larger, the fingers longer. He was tired, and it took a long time. Dee propped herself up on her elbow and watched every bit of it, from start to finish. It didn’t bother her to watch this time, and she wasn’t surprised.

[Kathy W 2200]

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 2200]

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.

[Kathy W 2200]

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!”

[Kathy W 2200]

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.”

[Kathy W 2200]

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.

[Kathy W 2200]

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.>

[Kathy W 2200]

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.

[Kathy W 2200]

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?”

[Kathy W 2200]

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.”

[Kathy W 2200]

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.”