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In between those rare visits, conversation had been managed by Jaddo talking to the Healer and the Healer talking to Brivari on her trips outside the compound, where they could easily meet. The Healer had become so adept at this mode of communication that she had begun to mimic Brivari's tone, an annoying habit if ever there was one.

"Maybe as punishment?" Amar suggested. "We know Khivar is furious that the Royals were killed. Perhaps he wants 'Nicholas' to correct that mistake."

Malik snorted softly as he heaved himself into a nearby chair. "That was no mistake. He ordered them killed, or all of them but Vilandra, anyway. You did make a copy of that transmission where he admitted that, didn't you?"

"Naturally," Amar said. "That's a tasty little nugget that might come in handy in the future.

Covering your ass is universal!

But I have a feeling that Orlon knows his communicator was tampered with and that's why he hasn't said anything else incriminating since then.


Ah, and let's check in and see how's the hundred-year war is going...

"If you feel that way, then why did you throw Brivari out?"

Emily's eyebrows rose, her toast halfway to her mouth. Across the table, David closed his eyes and sighed.

"That was different," Emily said firmly.

"Doesn't sound different to me," Dee said with an edge to her voice. "Brivari wasn't the one who decided to come here—that was the king. Brivari was a servant; he couldn't stop it. And don't tell me that he agreed with it, because you said that just agreeing with Communists doesn't make someone guilty. So Brivari agreeing with what the king did doesn't make him guilty either." Dee set her bowl down in the drainer with a plop. "Do you know what one of my vocabulary words was, Mama? It was 'hypocrite'. I had to look it up. Maybe you should too."

Dee has a good point, based on what her mother said.

David set his coffee cup down. "I said I wasn't trying to argue with you, and I meant that," he said gently. "I'm just speculating out loud. And don't worry about Dee—she can't stay mad forever."

"Sure she can," Emily sighed. "She's my daughter."

And that is probably the truest statement of the year... at least!

All three of them stared at the tank dejectedly. Every single emergent Covari had died, most before they'd fully emerged, with the exception of that first one that had tried—and failed—to shift. They'd lost many more in the past several months; only about a third of the original number remained, and no one had much hope for those. As upset as Marana was over this, no one was more upset than Amar. The prospect of Covari not bound to the king was what had made him willing to do business with Khivar in the first place.

"They're all going to die, aren't they?" Malik whispered.

"If they all die, then Khivar will try again," Amar insisted. "That was our price. We did the job we were hired for—hell, we've done a lot more than that—and I promise you, we will be paid."

Okay, I figure Orlon is the one poisoning the emergents, but I think the plot goes beyond him. I wondered if Khivar had secretly ordered that they all be destroyed so that no independent ones would actually be created, but since Orlon is in league with Athenar--Nicholas--it seems reasonable to assume that Nicholas ordered their destruction rather than Khivar. I'm not sure why though.

"Sure there is," Malik said suddenly.

Marana and Amar stared at him. "How?" Marana asked.

"Someone could have put it there deliberately."

"Deliberately?" Marana echoed.

"Yes," Malik said heavily. "As in someone poisoned them."

Great chapter!

Chapter 117 feedback


OMG! I'm thinking that Malik and Marana are in the treehouse, and Orlon got the better of them. I hope they survive! But this may, possibly, give Emily a chance to regain Dee's trust... or whatever it is they've lost.

This was an interesting tidbit...

"Khivar may have been set on it, but Argilians nurse a particular hatred for Covari," Marana had argued. "We're the reason Zan's father gained the throne instead of Khivar's."

That puts a new face on the Zan vs. Khivar struggle.

And this is an interesting hypothesis...

"Khivar would be foolish to dispose of us," "Marana insisted. "If we find the hybrids and he takes the royal mark, he will own us....and we will be unable to stop him."

" 'If'," Orlon repeated softly. "So even you have guessed the truth. We won't find the hybrids, Marana. We may capture the Warders, but they'll die before they'll tell us where to find them. Barring some happy biologic accident, Zan will live again. And when he does, he will be able to command each and every one of us. That is a risk Khivar cannot afford to take."

"So you're saying Khivar will dispose of us no matter what," Marana said. "I still say that would be short-sighted. Waiting is a small risk to take given what he stands to gain."

Orlon smiled faintly. "I couldn't agree more that Khivar is 'foolish' and 'short-sighted', but the fact remains that he will dispose of us much faster if these emergents survive."

But I suspect Orlon's real mtive is his hate for Brivari and his desire to shed himself of any obstacles to going after him... as he implies here...

"Your equipment and time were limited," Orlon said. "It is most unfortunate that you stumbled upon this anyway, but then I did speed up the process. With all the hunters gone, it is imperative that we abandon this dangerous experiment and move closer to the human military base. Khivar, in the foolishness you have already noted, would never agree to that unless the emergents were all dead, and he will lack the resources to mount another attempt for some time yet."

Great part!

Chapter 118 feedback

"Absolutely not!" Mrs. Proctor exclaimed. "They can look like anyone, so we still don't know if they're who they say they are. And even if they are, I'm not lifting a finger to help that awful woman. I told her before that if she ever darkened my doorway again, I'd shoot her. She got a reprieve the last time, but she's not getting one this time."

"I will do no such thing," Emily said firmly, "and you should be in school."

"And let them die?" Dee said angrily. "You'd do that, wouldn't you? Brivari didn't do that with me!"

"If they die, that's the fault of whoever attacked them, not me," Emily said severely. "And neither of them is Brivari, so we don't owe them a blessed thing."

Gahhhh! I can't believe I'm at the end and there's no more to read! And I can't believe how pigheaded Emily Proctor is being! And that's probably being far too nice to her. Stubborness is one thing, but she's way, way, way beyond that now. She's gone over the edge and beyond. At least Anthony was there and had the courage and the forethought to run for Dee. Then Emily snatched the healing stone from Dee and refused to give it back until David laid his foot down hard. I'm surprised he worked up the courage. But in fairness, this situation goes far beyond previous situations, in which he took the "eye-of-the-hurricane" position most of the time to survive. I thought Emily had been coming along pretty good up until she threw Brivari out, and I could pass that off as a combination of stubborness and what they'd been through. But she's truly flipped out now, totally unreasonable and utterly unbending in a time of dire need.

"I don't want you involved in this, Mac," Mr. Proctor said seriously.

That proved to be the wrong thing to say to Mr. Brazel.

I knew this would be the wrong thing to say to Mac!

Anthony pelted around the corner onto Baldwin street, one hand pressed to his side to relieve the stitch that had been there for some time now.

When I was about his age, I used to run everywhere. I could run for miles and miles and never get tired. But I did sometimes get that stitch under my ribcage, and boy did that hurt when I did!


Great chapter, Kathy! Now I need more!
And hey, I'm finally caught up! My New years resolution is done! (Uh, was that this year's or last year's resolution? I'm not sure. Oh well).

Gerry: Wow! You've been busy again! Congrats on fulfilling a New Year's resolution, any New Year's resolution. :mrgreen: (And I must say, I'm flattered that my story is part of anyone's New Year's resolution. ) Yep, Emily has indeed gone round the bend. She's a stubborn woman who's beseiged on all sides: Her daughter is after her (and not without merit), her husband hasn't officially supported her position, and now even her neighbors are siding with the aliens. I think she's feeling backed into a corner. But she's not a nasty person at heart, and Anthony puts his finger on at least part of the problem in this chapter. She'll come around.





CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED NINETEEN


June 6, 1950, 9:45 a.m.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt School



Anthony Evans looked out the window of the Proctor's car, watching the streets of Corona pass by even as his mind was elsewhere. Beside him, Mr. Proctor was doing essentially the same thing, driving automatically as he gazed out the windshield, lost in thought. Dee was back home, curled on her bed taking a nap, her efforts with the strange glowing stone having apparently worn her out. Anthony had assumed he wouldn't be allowed to watch whatever it was that she had been about to do when her mother had interrupted her, and he'd been delighted when no one tried to remove him from the Proctor's spare bedroom. Dee's part in the drama had consisted of holding the inexplicably glowing stone with her eyes closed while the real drama took place with the injured aliens, who shuddered, twisted, and half changed into all sorts of different shapes as Anthony watched, simultaneously fascinated and horrified, certain that whatever Dee was doing was doing more harm than good.

But when the promised five minutes had passed and Mr. Proctor had plucked the stone from Dee's hands, both aliens looked better: The man appeared to be sleeping, while the wound on the skinny gray one's arm was now just a thin, dark line. Dee had been very tired, and her father had tucked her into bed and headed downstairs to telephone Anthony's mother, whom he'd told with a perfectly straight face that Dee had fallen ill on the way to school, Anthony had very kindly brought her home, and Mr. Proctor would be happy to drive him to school. It was a good lie, easy to reproduce, as Anthony would have to do later on today, but the ease with which it slid out was instructive. Anthony was no stranger to lying, but his lies usually consisted of simply keeping things to himself, not fabricating whole stories. Mr. Proctor had obviously had a lot more practice.

They reached the school, and Mr. Proctor steered the car into the parking lot and turned off the engine. Anthony waited, his hands opening and closing on the book bag in his lap, making no move to get out of the car. He'd known as soon as Mr. Proctor said he'd be driving him to school that this would be the scene of their "talk", and he'd been preparing himself for it ever since. Whatever happened, whatever anyone said, the most important thing of all was not to let on that he had known about the aliens for a long time now. Dee was in enough trouble with her parents as it was, or with her mother, at least; discovering that she'd let a friend in on their family secret would get her in even more trouble. And given how much he knew about that family secret, it was terribly important that he weigh every single thing he said very carefully lest he inadvertently give himself away. He glanced sideways at Mr. Proctor, who was still gazing silently out the windshield at the brick wall of the school, and braced himself for the opening salvo.

"You've known about the aliens all along, haven't you Anthony?"

Anthony's eyes widened. "What? Why....what makes you think that?"

"You weren't surprised enough," Mr. Proctor said thoughtfully, swinging his head around to look at him. "And I know my daughter."

Anthony felt his cheeks burning; he jerked his eyes away from Mr. Proctor's and fastened them on the glove compartment in front of him. So much for not giving himself away.

"So this means that on Halloween in '47, when that alien showed up on our doorstep and you acted like it was all part of the Halloween party....you weren't really acting, were you? You knew it was real."

Anthony said nothing, his face virtually on fire now. "And later that Christmas when our house was supposedly burglarized, you probably knew that was no burglar. In fact..." Mr. Proctor paused. "You called Valenti, didn't you?" he said as Anthony stiffened in terror. "I was never able to figure out how he knew to come to our house. It was you, wasn't it? Dee was over at Rachel's that night, and so were you. You must have found out when she ran home."

"I'm sorry!" Anthony blurted out miserably. "I didn't know what else to do! Dee was so scared, and she told me not to go near your house, so I just watched from my front porch. And then that man showed up, and there was all that fighting, and I was afraid something would happen to her!"

"It's okay," Mr. Proctor said soothingly. "I'm not mad. I've just never been able to solve that piece of the puzzle. Besides, having Deputy Valenti there worked out for the best."

I bet Valenti wasn't thinking that when that officer tried to kidnap him, Anthony thought, remembering his panicked phone call to Sheriff Wilcox, grateful that Mr. Proctor hadn't yet connected those particular dots.

"So given the length of time you've known and what you've seen," Mr. Proctor continued, "I suppose my carefully planned speech about the need for secrecy and lives being at stake is really unnecessary because you already know that, right?"

"Yes, sir," Anthony said faintly.

"Just exactly how much do you know?"

Anthony had to stop and think, having spent the last several minutes trying to forget what he knew. "Well...I know there's a war on another planet," he began, glancing nervously around him even though all the car windows were up; it was strange to be saying this out loud. "And I know there was a king there, and someone killed the king, and the king's people came here, but their ship crashed. And whoever's working for the one who killed the king came here too, looking for the king's people. And you're helping the king's people. That's it."

"A good synopsis," Mr. Proctor nodded.

"But I didn't know the aliens could look like us," Anthony said, connecting his own set of dots. "So that means that the man who came to your house that Christmas and broke the window was really an alien? One who was working for whoever killed the king?"

"Unfortunately."

"And the handyman Dee was with at the Fourth of July festival was an alien too?"

"He was."

"And...and Mr. Langley?" Anthony whispered, remembering the odd conversation he'd had with the Proctors' "friend" about telescopes and how they gathered light, and their even odder conversation when Valenti had come to the door on the day of Dee's birthday party.

"Mr. Langley too."

"But he's working for the king?"

"Both Mr. Langley and the handyman were working for the king."

"What about the two who showed up today?"

"That's a bit more complicated," Mr. Proctor said. "Ostensibly, they're working for whoever killed the king, but one of them isn't happy with what's happened on his world and has shown up repeatedly to warn Mr. Langley of various things."

"So....he's kind of like a double agent?"

"I guess you could call him that," Mr. Proctor said.

"And...." Anthony hesitated, unsure of whether to ask his next, most preposterous question. It was unthinkable, really, even ludicrous. But given everything he'd seen....

"Mr. Proctor....are you an alien?"

Mr. Proctor blinked at him in surprise before breaking into a laugh. "No, Anthony," he chuckled, "I'm not an alien. And for the record, neither is Dee or her mother. No, I'm just an ordinary human being trying to do the right thing. Whatever that is," he added with a sigh.

"I think you did the right thing today, sir," Anthony said, "and I know Dee does too."

"I appreciate that," Mr. Proctor said. "I just wish my wife thought so."

"I think she does," Anthony said. "Mrs. Proctor is a nice lady. I think she's just scared."

"I think she's angry," Mr. Proctor corrected.

"For Mrs. Proctor, I think being angry is the same thing as being scared," Anthony said.

Mr. Proctor looked at him for a long moment before shaking his head in disbelief. "How old are you, Anthony?"

"Twelve."

"Twelve," Mr. Proctor murmured. "Remarkable. Well....time for you to get into school. You know the story, right?"

"Dee started feeling sick on the way to school, so I walked her home," Anthony said promptly.

"And you know the stakes?"

"I can't tell anyone about what I saw today or anything else I know because you and Dee and Mrs. Proctor would get in a lot of trouble," Anthony said, shivering slightly as he remembered that officer at Valenti's house with the armed guards.

"What if someone were to ask you a very direct question?"

"Then I'd have to lie," Anthony said.

"Even if it were a police officer or a soldier?"

"Especially if it were a police officer or a soldier," Anthony said soberly.

"And you're okay with that?"

"Aren't you okay with that?" Anthony asked.

Mr. Proctor looked out the window. "Yes. But I have to be."

"So do I," Anthony said.

Mr. Proctor smiled faintly and nodded. "Right," he said softly. "Goodbye, Anthony. Have a good day at school. And I want you to know how impressed I am with the way you handled yourself today. You kept your wits about you and did what needed doing. A lot of adults would have had trouble pulling that off. Dee chooses her friends well."

"Thank you, sir," Anthony said, flushing at the praise. "And thanks for the ride."

Anthony climbed out and waited until Mr. Proctor had left before heading into the school building. "There you are!" the school secretary said cheerfully when he arrived at the office. "Your mother called, dear. I do hope Dee will feel better soon."

"So do I," Anthony replied, breathing a private sigh of relief that the lie had already made it to school, freeing him from having to repeat it.

"What was wrong with her?"

Anthony froze, not having expected that particular question and realizing he'd celebrated too soon. That was the problem with lies—they mushroomed, one lie leading to another, meaning one always had to be ready to improvise. "I...I'm not sure," he stammered after a frantic mental dash down a list of possible ailments made it occur to him that less detailed lies were less likely to trip him up. "She just didn't feel well."

"Well, I'm sure it's nothing serious," the secretary assured him. "And I do hope you don't catch it."

"Yes, ma'am," Anthony said weakly, adding silently, I already have.



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



Proctor residence



Emily had her hands in the dishwater when David arrived back home, coming in the side door and closing it quietly behind him. "Hi," he said behind her.

"Hello," Emily answered stiffly, not bothering to turn around.

"Everything okay here?"

"Sure it is," Emily deadpanned. "Dee is still asleep from healing two enemy aliens, one of which has expressed an interest in experimenting on her brain, and we now have yet another child who knows our deepest, darkest secrets. Business as usual."

"Anthony will be fine," David said, ignoring her sarcasm. "He won't say anything."

"A young boy with a passion for telescopes and space sees bona fide aliens, and he's not going to say anything? Good one, David."

"He's already passed that test," David replied. "Turns out he's known about the aliens for a good long while now."

Emily whirled around in alarm. "Do you mean Dee told him?"

"My guess would be that he figured it out himself, and she just verified it...or didn't deny it," David said, pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Anthony's very sharp."

"I don't care how 'sharp' he is!" Emily exclaimed. "She told him? How many other people has she told? Does the whole neighborhood know?"

"I doubt it," David said calmly. "Anthony knew the alien that showed up on Halloween back in '47 was really an alien. He made up that story about it all being part of the Halloween party, and everyone believed it. I was going to try the same ploy, but having it come from one of the children was even better."

Emily sank into a chair, the wet hands she'd forgotten to dry leaving damp spots on her bathrobe. "He's known since then? That was over two years ago."

"He's also the one who called Valenti the night the hunters came for Brivari," David added. "I'd never been able to figure out how Valenti got here. Turns out Anthony was watching our house the whole time."

"Good Lord," Emily breathed. "Did she tell him everything?"

"Actually, he seems to have very few specific details," David answered. "He knows there's been a war that knocked a king off a throne, and that representatives from the two sides are here. He doesn't seem to know anything about the pods, and he said he didn't know the aliens could shapeshift until today. He even asked me if I was an alien," he added, chuckling.

"Given the way you've been siding with them, that's a good question," Emily said coldly.

"Don't be ridiculous," David said. "During the war, I brought lots of enemy soldiers to the medic stations. That didn't mean I approved of what their governments were doing, and I certainly wasn't 'siding with them'; I was just rendering aid to the wounded, and the medics treated everyone who needed help."

Emily rose from the chair and dried her hands on a dish towel. "I'm not a medic station," she said firmly, "and I don't have to help anyone I don't want to."

David's eyes dropped. "I know," he sighed. "I spoke with Rose before I came inside. She and Mac are willing to take the aliens until they recover."

"What?" Emily exclaimed in disbelief. "Do they have any idea how dangerous that is? Do they know what those aliens have done?"

"Yes. But this isn't just about what they've done; it's also about what our people will do if they're found, and Mac knows better than we do that our own people aren't exactly angels. And I think they know how much you object, so they're trying to help, to forge a compromise."

"They're crazy," Emily whispered. "After what happened to Mac....no. No, I can't let them do that. It's too dangerous."

"Does that mean you're willing to let them stay?"

Emily hesitated, her mouth set in a hard line. "They can stay until they're better, and then I want them out," she said curtly. "That should satisfy all your lofty morals about helping the wounded and keep Mac out of it, even if he isn't smart enough to do that himself."

"Fair enough," David agreed. "That'll give us a chance to find out what's going on."

"We already know what's going on," Emily said irritably, returning to the dishes. "They're fighting with each other, and we're in the middle of it, as usual."

"But who's fighting with whom? Who did that to them?"

"Who do you think? Brivari, of course."

David shook his head. "I doubt it. Brivari tried to kill Malik before, and missed. He wouldn't make that mistake a second time."

Emily turned to look at him, concerned now instead of angry. "Do you mean....do you think more aliens have arrived?"

"Either that," David said, "or the ones who are already here are having one hell of an argument."




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


Copper Summit, Arizona




"Who did this?" Amar whispered, looking around the room in shock.

"I don't really need to answer that question, do I?" Orlon asked.

Amar walked in stunned silence through the ruined lower basement level as the injured Orlon leaned heavily against one of the tanks. Or rather, what used to be one of the tanks. Every single tank was shattered, its occupant ejected. The floor was covered with the viscous gestational fluid, punctuated here and there by emergents, most of which had already turned to dust.

"I heard something down here and came to investigate," Orlon said as Amar examined the wreckage, his feet sticking to the floor. "Malik and Marana were already here; they had caught Brivari sabotaging the tanks with something poisonous—"

"Mercury," Amar broke in. "Marana told us about it yesterday."

"I don't know what it was, but whatever he was using, it certainly did its job," Orlon said angrily. "I only caught the last of their conversation before they started fighting, and then I joined in, of course. But I'm afraid even three of us were not enough to stave off one of those altered monstrosities."

"So where are Malik and Marana?" Amar asked.

"I believe Marana is dead," Orlon said. "The last I saw, she was badly injured. I would imagine Malik suffered a similar fate."

Amar was quiet for a moment, trying to fathom the notion that their payment for helping the Argilians had been destroyed. All dead. Every single one. These were all they had asked for, all any of the five who had run had ever wanted, ahead of position, or power, or asylum: The chance for their race to continue free of the gene encoding that had been part of their agreement with Zan's father. Many besides the king would consider such creatures a threat, of course, but perhaps they could find somewhere else to live, perhaps form their own community, even learn how to reproduce themselves. There were enough Covari who were bioscientists like Marana that the notion had not been preposterous, but now....now it was over.

"We should not stay here," Orlon was saying. "Brivari will be back to finish what he started, and if three were not enough to bring him down, then two would not be either."

"Wait a minute," Amar said slowly, details coming into sharper focus now that the initial shock had worn off. "Why are you still alive?"

"Excuse me?"

"You should be dead," Amar said, puzzled. "Brivari thought he'd killed Malik and me before, and he was wrong; he would have been very careful this time not to leave the job unfinished."

"Your concern for my health is touching," Orlon said irritably, "but I imagine he thought I was already dead. I was unconscious for quite some time."

"That wouldn't have fooled him," Amar insisted.

"I didn't realize I'd have to apologize for my survival," Orlon said churlishly. "Perhaps Malik and Marana inflicted more damage than I thought. She was a hellion, that one, after catching him poisoning her precious emergents."

"That doesn't make any sense either," Amar said, thoroughly confused now. "When Marana first told us how the emergents were dying, I suspected Brivari until Malik pointed out that wasn't his style. He wouldn't have wasted his time slowly poisoning them—he's not that subtle. Why would he risk being caught when he could have just killed them all at once?"

"I should think that would be obvious," Orlon said impatiently. "He was trying to turn us against each other by making it look like one of us was to blame. And it almost worked. Marana blamed the first death on a faulty tank and hounded you about it for months."

"That still doesn't explain how Brivari managed to get inside this room multiple times over more than a year, including when the hunters were still here," Amar said.

"Maybe he didn't," Orlon replied. "Maybe he had help."

"Help? What kind of help?"

"I have long suspected that Malik is working with Brivari," Orlon announced.

Amar's eyebrows rose. "Why?"

"A gut feeling," Orlon said, "and the fact that I have never been able to figure out how the humans knew we were coming the night we attacked their military base, or why their serum was guarded when it usually wasn't. Malik worked very hard to convince me that it was you who had given us away. One of the hallmarks of a traitor is that they have to cover their tracks. They frequently accomplish that by blaming everyone else for anything that goes wrong."

"He blamed you," Amar said suddenly, remembering. "When Marana told us about the mercury, I suspected Brivari...but Malik blamed you."

"You see?" Orlon said triumphantly. "Malik established a pattern of blaming others."

"Maybe," Amar said. "But I know he wouldn't have done this. He would never have willingly killed the emergents."

"We're wasting time," Orlon said curtly. "What is most important is that we leave this place as soon as possible. Now that you have returned, you can assist me with a healing stone and we can quit this place by nightfall and move to the human military base. That is the only place we have witnessed Brivari visiting, so that is where we will find him."

"We can't just walk away," Amar objected. "The humans will notice; the mail will pile up, and food will spoil—"

"We will keep this base for when the Argilians arrive," Orlon broke in, "so of course we will maintain our cover. Do whatever you need to assuage human curiosity."

"I....I don't know what to do," Amar admitted. "That was Malik's department."

"Then figure it out," Orlon said shortly, limping toward the door. "Now get the healing stone."

"I need to take care of these before we go," Amar said, gazing sadly at the emergents, or what was left of them.

"You will do nothing of the sort," Orlon said sharply. "We're not wasting our precious time on funeral rites for emergents."

"We most certainly are," Amar countered, "or I am, at least."

"I will not have our safety compromised by waiting around while you mourn over a pile of dead bodies," Orlon said severely. "Get the healing stone."

"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear," Amar said tersely. "I will not leave this place until every last speck of dust in this room has flown free, even it is on some primitive ball of rock out in the middle of nowhere. They couldn't live free, but I will see to it that they die free. And if you order me not to again," he added as Orlon began to object, "then you can forget that healing stone and go heal yourself."



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



1200 hours

Eagle Rock Military Base



"Captain Spade," said one of the guards at the doorway to the curtained-off ship, snapping a salute.

"Get Corporal Thompson for me; he has an urgent phone call from home," Brivari ordered, wearing Spade's face as he spoke his well-rehearsed lines. "I'll take his post while he answers it."

"Yes, sir," the guard said, nodding to another guard, who scurried off. "Sergeant Keyser has left for lunch, so you'll be the only guard inside the ship with the prisoner. Would you like someone else to accompany you?"

"That won't be necessary," Brivari answered.

The guard nodded and stepped aside as Brivari walked past the curtains surrounding the ship for the first time, proximity revealing all the repairs that had been less visible from a distance. Still, it was nothing short of miraculous that Jaddo had been able to do this much, and Brivari felt an unexpected rush of emotion. The last time he'd been this close to their ship, things had been very different.....

A soldier appeared in the hatch doorway, heading down the ramp toward him. "Sir," Corporal Thompson nodded. "I'm told I have a phone call?"

"You do," Brivari confirmed. "Take your time; I'll take your post while you're gone."

"Thank you, sir," Thompson said. "I shouldn't be any more than thirty minutes."

Their eyes locked as the remaining guards ringing the ship ignored them, unaware of what was happening. Thompson was responsible for conveying to Brivari how long he could expect to safely stay in the ship before Keyser's return, something that would vary from day to day depending on Keyser's schedule. Thirty minutes was not much time to activate the communications console and send a transmission, but it would have to do.

"Thirty minutes, then," Brivari said. "I hope whatever news you receive is good news."

"Thank you, sir," Thompson said as he saluted and headed out of the hangar to make himself scarce, just as Spade already had. Brivari had been doubtful about Thompson's inclusion in their circle of allies, but the Healer, Spade, and Jaddo himself had quelled his fears. It was Thompson who had kept the serum from falling into Orlon's hands, delivered Malik's message about the x-rays that had saved Jaddo's life, and allowed Brivari to enter Jaddo's room several times now. Brivari had never had so much as a moment's genuine conversation with the man, but his loyalty, to Spade at least, had been unswerving.

Brivari climbed the walkway to the one open hatch, nodding to the guards stationed outside as he passed, Spade's tranquilizer rifle bumping against his back as he walked. Even though he was armed, his rifle only held three darts, not enough to take out a sufficient number of guards to allow an escape. He entered the hatch, crouching in Spade's tall human form to navigate the now tight hallway. The interior was even more affecting than the exterior; all debris from the crash had been removed, making the ship look eerily similar to how it had when they had first embarked for Earth. He passed the stasis chamber where he had quarreled with Jaddo over the bodies of their Wards, recalling how suspicious he'd been that Rath had been the betrayer. A little further down was the now empty cargo hold that had once held the Granolith. And further still was Valeris' lab, the blasted door now removed, the interior empty. Brivari paused at the doorway, staring at the space where the incubators had once stood and the table where he and Valeris had eaten. This is where he died, Brivari thought sadly. Even though a part of him still believed his "visit" with Valeris to have been only illusion, there was no denying that there had been some comfort in seeing his friend again, even if his message had been disturbing.

*Brivari, are you here?* came a voice in his mind.

*Yes,* Brivari said heavily. *I'm on my way.*

A minute later he reached the control room, which had not fared as well during the clean up process. Jaddo was hunched over the communication console, having removed its top panel. *I've had this down in the engine room,* he said, indicating the round holographic control crystal he was inserting into the glowing console. *It appears undamaged, so we should be able to manage an image, although an audio message would be sufficient also.* He paused, glancing briefly at Brivari before returning his eyes to the console. *I had the same reaction the first time I came aboard again. Unfortunately, time is short.*

*I know,* Brivari answered, surprised at Jaddo's admission. Showing emotion was not one of his strong points. *Have you any ideas on who to contact?*

*No one at home, that's for certain,* Jaddo answered. *Our private frequencies there may no longer be private.*

*Agreed,* Brivari said. "Larak?"

*My thoughts exactly.* Jaddo settled the console's top panel back in place, and the holographic crystal glowed faintly. *Are you ready?*

When Brivari nodded, Jaddo set the frequency and sent the transmission, and both settled back to wait. A transmission received on a private Antarian royal frequency would no doubt cause a flurry of activity in Larak's quarters; it may take some time before anyone answered, if indeed anyone did. If they received no answer, Jaddo would remove the crystal and disconnect the console, leaving Brivari with the thankless task of convincing Jaddo that it wasn't safe to wait and try again.

*Did you have any trouble getting in here?* Jaddo asked.

*None,* Brivari replied. *Hopefully things will go as smoothly when you escape. Spade has set three days from now as the first time he feels he can move himself and Corporal Thompson into position.*

Jaddo nodded. *I can easily stall Keyser for three days. He still hopes to repair propulsion, although I'm almost certain that's not possible. Not to mention the fact that they'll need an Antarian hand to activate propulsion even if it is repairable, and the key is still missing; it apparently resembles a rare jewel.*

The console flashed and the holographic crystal burst to brilliant life, sending a beam of light into the air. Slowly, a shape coalesced inside the beam, a familiar face wearing an understandably suspicious expression.

"Identify yourselves," Larak demanded sharply, his eyes moving back and forth over the two human figures appearing on his own console.

Jaddo glanced at Brivari, who nodded. Since Jaddo could not shift, it would be up to Brivari to identify them.....and identifying meant shifting to native form at least momentarily, the most dangerous part of this endeavor. No sound came from anywhere within earshot, so Brivari shifted, the control room growing larger around him as the look of astonishment on the Larak's face grew larger as well.

"Brivari!" Larak exclaimed in amazement. "You're alive!"


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


I'll post Chapter 120 next Sunday.

Great chapter, Kathy! I loved the talk between Anthony and Mr. Proctor, and I had to laugh at Anthony's asking him if he was an alien, too.

"And...." Anthony hesitated, unsure of whether to ask his next, most preposterous question. It was unthinkable, really, even ludicrous. But given everything he'd seen....

"Mr. Proctor....are you an alien?"

Mr. Proctor blinked at him in surprise before breaking into a laugh. "No, Anthony," he chuckled, "I'm not an alien. And for the record, neither is Dee or her mother. No, I'm just an ordinary human being trying to do the right thing. Whatever that is," he added with a sigh.

And Emily's response, that it was a good question considering how David had been acting, was true to her usual form.

I chuckled at Anthony's musing that Mr. Proctor had obviously had more experience making up lies, too.

Orlon is definitely trying to poison Amar against Brivari, Marana, and Malik (and cover his own ass). I'm glad Amar is having serious doubts about Orlon's story and isn't letting Orlon push him around. Too bad he'll probably end up healing Orlon. But at least Marana and Malik appear to have survived to set the record straight eventually.

Island Breeze wrote:I loved the talk between Anthony and Mr. Proctor, and I had to laugh at Anthony's asking him if he was an alien, too.

Maybe Anthony thinks that anyone who deals with Mrs. Proctor the way David does has to be an alien.

Just kidding. :mrgreen: Dee has long been afraid to tell Anthony that the aliens were shapeshifters because she was concerned he'd think everyone he saw was an alien....and they could be, for that matter. But Anthony's made of tough stuff. He'll be okay.








CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY


June 6, 1950, 1215 hours

Eagle Rock Military Base



On another world in another part of the galaxy, Larak peered at the hologram in front of him, clearly unable to believe his eyes. "We were told you were dead," he whispered. "Is that really you, Brivari?"

"It is indeed," Brivari answered. "And this is Jaddo, both of us very much alive despite all efforts to the contrary."

"I can't tell you how good it is to know that both of you survived," Larak said, his voice filled with emotion.

"And you as well," Jaddo replied. "It is good to see a familiar and friendly face at last. But I'm afraid time is short; we are in our ship, which is currently held by the human military, and we don't have long before we will be discovered."

"I see," Larak said, visibly pulling himself together. "Well, then....let's begin with the most pressing business." His hologram leaned in closer. "Does he live?"

Brivari and Jaddo exchanged glances. There was no need to define who "he" was; Larak was one of Zan's oldest and closest friends, a longtime ally and confidante of the entire royal family. "He does," Brivari confirmed, omitting the fact that neither he nor Jaddo had been able to check the pod chamber for over two years now. "Not only does Zan live, but the mark has formed on one of the hybrids. Antar still has a king."

Larak leaned back in relief, obviously having feared the worst. "Thank goodness. Khivar continues to claim that it is only a matter of time before the royals' bodies are found and his succession confirmed. Naturally he can't maintain that fiction forever, and we have been countering his story, but I was never certain...." His voice trailed off, and he smiled. "But now I am. Now I can confidently tell everyone that Zan lives. What of Rath and the others?"

"Valeris duplicated the entire Royal Four before he died, so Ava, Vilandra, and Rath also live," Brivari said.

"Valeris is dead?" Larak said softly.

"Yes," Jaddo answered. "He and Urza were both killed by the human military shortly after our ship crashed."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Larak said quietly. "I suspected as much, but then I've heard so many different stories that I don't know what to believe. We have spies on Antar, of course, but given the situation and the constantly shifting alliances, communication is difficult and news tentative."

"What exactly is the situation there?" Brivari asked.

Larak stared off into space for a moment as if composing an answer. "As I said, initially Khivar insisted that the royals' bodies had been hidden to prevent him making a clear claim to the throne. That was too generic of a story to hold up for long, so eventually he settled on pointing fingers, namely at me. That was the basis for his first attack, that I was harboring the royals' bodies. I, of course, told the five planets otherwise.

"Eventually, however," Larak continued, "it dawned on Khivar that all the attention being paid to the unsuccessful hunt for the bodies was only strengthening my case, not to mention focusing everyone's attention on the popular feeling that Zan had escaped, in some fashion at least, and would eventually return. So Khivar set his sights on the Granolith, first building it up in everyones' minds as something to be feared, then accusing various people of harboring it. And then he announced that he had found it, making him the one to be feared....but the damage had been done. Old alliances fell apart amidst the suspicions he'd sown, one thing led to another, and now someone is always fighting someone else about something, although who is fighting whom and why changes frequently."

Brivari sighed heavily as Jaddo snorted in disgust. This was essentially the same information that Malik had passed along to Spade, who in turn has passed it along to Brivari: Khivar had managed to destabilize not just a planet, but an entire region of space.

"All that matters to Khivar, of course," Larak went on, "is that his ploy was successful: The leaders of our sister planets now have too much on their minds to waste time speculating about Zan's return, and are too fragmented and paranoid to contribute to the Antarian resistance that disputes Khivar's claim to the throne."

"So there is a resistance," Jaddo said eagerly. "Who leads it?"

"I do," Larak said, "which will tell you what shape it's in. I can't meet them on Antar without risking my life, can't even communicate with them without a great deal of difficulty. But no one of sufficient status survived the attack save one, and that one put me in charge of the resistance—the Queen Mother."

"She lives?" Brivari exclaimed in surprise, delighted that Zan's mother had survived. "How?"

"She was far enough away at the time of the attack that she managed to escape," Larak explained, "and came to me for sanctuary, which I readily gave, of course. Others fled here too before Khivar closed Antar to all but the most heavily scrutinized traffic. My world has become a haven for Antarian dissidents."

"And I extend to you the King's gratitude for your friendship and loyalty," Brivari said. "Your efforts have been noted, and will not go unrewarded."

"Zan's return will be reward enough," Larak assured him. "He was my friend long before he ascended the throne. That is a far stronger tie than any crown, and I will do whatever I can to restore him."

"Unfortunately, there is little to be done in that regard until Zan's hybrid emerges," Jaddo noted, "and that won't happen for another eighteen years or so. You've spoken of relations between the five planets breaking down, but how does Antar itself fare?"

"It is relatively stable....for now," Larak amended. "Most attention is focused on the various threats Khivar has concocted, which have produced a thriving military and greater acceptance of his leadership, as the people fear to be without some kind of leader in times of trouble, and Zan's fate has remained unclear until this conversation. I hate to say it, but Khivar is functioning as a stabilizing force, albeit a most unpleasant one. Were he to disappear, I'm afraid the resulting chaos would be worse than what we have now."

"Which is why he must not be directly challenged at this point," Jaddo said, as Brivari nodded in agreement. "Spread the word among the resistance that you have spoken with us directly, and that we have confirmed that the king lives; they need good news to keep them going. Otherwise, they should focus on preparing themselves and whoever will join them for the king's return."

"I'll pass that along," Larak agreed. "You may be surprised at who is willing to join them. There is a substantial Argilian resistance as well, although it varies in focus; some merely find Khivar unworthy to rule, while others are pushing for Rath to take the throne if and when the Royals return.."

Brivari kept his eyes on the hologram, avoiding Jaddo's gaze. Jaddo had admitted there was an Argilian faction which wanted Rath on the throne, a fact which had made Brivari suspect Rath of being the saboteur until Urza had revealed Vilandra's role in her brother's death.

"And perhaps you could settle something for me," Larak added. "There are a number of stories circulating about exactly how Khivar managed to breach Zan's defenses, and many involve Vilandra, of all people. At first I considered them nonsense, but they have persisted, along with tales that some of Khivar's supporters abandoned him because of Vilandra's influence. Is any of this true?"

There was an uncomfortable silence as Brivari and Jaddo both hesitated. "Unfortunately, yes," Jaddo answered, his voice heavy with disgust. "Vilandra fancied herself in love with Khivar, and even more incredibly, believed Khivar loved her."

"But...what of her marriage to Rath?" Larak asked. "That was announced shortly before the attack."

"And is apparently what precipitated this entire mess," Brivari said heavily. "Vilandra arranged for Khivar's access to the palace because she believed he would publicly ask the king for her hand in marriage. Urza told us she discovered her mistake too late and was killed by some of Khivar's supporters who disapproved of their relationship. Khivar admitted as much when we spoke and claimed that he actually loved her, although I am certain that was not his intention."

"Idiots, both," Jaddo said derisively. "Were circumstances different, I would say that each deserved the other, and good riddance."

"My goodness," Larak said, his eyes wide. "I had never granted those tales much credence, but if they're true....his own sister," he added, shaking his head in disbelief. "I don't envy your presence at that reunion when it comes."

"As long as there is a reunion, I'll worry about the rest later," Brivari said soberly.

"Agreed," Larak said. "But that is past, and we must look to the future. Your timing is fortuitous. It is said the Argilians have devised a way to survive on Earth, and we hear that a contingent of them will be arriving there soon to hunt for you."

"Soon?" Brivari echoed. "How soon?"

"Very soon," Larak said, "although given the tentative nature of our intelligence, I admit it's possible they're already there. They won't be able to recognize you, but I'm afraid the same is true in reverse; the 'husks' they've developed are said to be excellent disguises. You should move as far as possible from your last known location immediately."

Brivari saw Jaddo turn to look at him, stricken. "I'm afraid," Brivari said slowly, "that presents a bit of a problem."



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


Proctor residence




Afternoon sunlight woke Malik, burning through his eyelids, making him squint. He blinked, wondering why everything hurt, why even the slightest movement produced a not-so-slight ache. A moment later, his vision adjusted to reveal a completely unfamiliar room at which he peered in confusion. Where was he? How had he gotten here? Why had he shifted to human form, but forgotten to shift himself some clothing?

And then his eyes came to rest on the figure beside him, and it all came flooding back. Following Orlon downstairs. Watching him contaminate one of the emergent's tanks. Marana lying in wait, Orlon threatening her, Malik revealing himself...and then the fight had begun. Fighting another Covari meant shifting constantly to avoid or lessen blows to oneself, or maximize blows to your opponent. Malik could have taken Orlon himself, and had been hoping that Marana would stay out of it....but she hadn't. She'd thrown herself into the fray with admirable gusto, but she was a scientist, inexperienced at fighting or shifting at such a furious pace. She'd been badly wounded early on, and even though Orlon was wounded too, he was still perfectly capable of killing her, leaving Malik with an awful choice: Finish off Orlon and save the remaining emergents, virtually assuring Marana's death, or withdraw and save Marana. In the end he'd chosen the latter, taking all night to reach this area, the only place he could think of where there were humans who might give them shelter. He'd been heading for the base and the Healer who was Brivari's ally when his strength had given out and he'd taken refuge in the girl's backyard, knowing her parents would not take kindly to their presence. He'd meant to merely rest there, but they'd been discovered....and how fortunate that had been. Who would have thought that the Proctors would not only have a healing stone, but the ability to wield one as well.

Mustering an effort, Malik pushed himself up on one elbow and inspected Marana. Her wounds were greatly improved, her breathing deep and even—she would live. Not that she'll appreciate that, he thought sadly, sinking back down onto the bed. When Marana discovered that he'd traded the lives of the emergents for her own, she would be furious. He had rehashed his decision countless times, always reaching the same conclusion: The emergents had stood a poor chance of survival even without Orlon's sabotage, and Marana was too important to lose. As the only Antarian bioscientist on the planet, she alone could help the hybrids or produce a replicant serum to free Jaddo, both of which were of paramount importance now that Khivar's own second was maneuvering for the throne with Orlon right behind him. Brivari had placed Riall on Antar's throne; if Orlon were to do the same for Athenor, things would not go well for their people. Athenor was noted for his hatred of Covari, and Orlon had just demonstrated a willingness to kill his own people in his quest for power. The mess on Antar had just gotten messier, if that were possible.

"Hello?"

Malik turned his head quickly, wincing as he did so. David Proctor was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, watching him curiously. "Hello," Malik replied cautiously.

"Good to see you awake," David said, coming into the room. "Would you mind?" he added, pointing vaguely in Malik's direction.

"What? Oh....sorry," Malik said, shifting himself some clothing, surprised at the amount of effort it took.

"Is she going to be all right?" David asked, nodding toward Marana.

"I think so," Malik said. "Thanks to you."

"Right," David said quietly. "So who did this to you? Was it Brivari?"

"That would be logical, wouldn't it? But no—it was Orlon."

"Orlon?" David echoed in surprise.

"We discovered that Orlon was secretly working with the current ruler's second-in-command, supposedly to put him on the throne," Malik said, holding his tongue about the rest of the story. There was no point in frightening the Proctors' further with the specter of dozens of his people being born on their planet, especially as the emergents were undoubtedly dead now anyway. "He didn't take kindly to our discovering that."

"No, I imagine he wouldn't," David agreed. He sat down slowly on the little bench beside the bedroom window. "I'm going to hazard a guess that the former king is looking better now."

Malik smiled faintly. "If that was an 'I told you so', I suppose I have that coming. Although I never intended to unseat the king, never even thought that possible."

"You weren't too sure about reinstating him, though, were you?"

Malik looked at David for a long moment. "No," he said softly. "I wasn't. But I am sure that my defection had nothing to do with our current predicament. I was too small a player on my world's stage for my presence or absence to have had any effect on what happened. And I'm also sure that this latest contender for the throne is a ruthless individual whose ascension would not bode well for anyone. My original problems with the king stand....although I will admit that, even at his worst, he was the lesser of the evils." He paused, laying back on the bed, this simple summary leading him to a decision he'd been dancing around for years. "I need to find Brivari, Mr. Proctor. Do you know where he is?"

"I doubt any of this will surprise Brivari," David said.

"Of course it won't," Malik agreed. "What might is that I'm throwing in my lot with him. He certainly could use the help."

"You think Brivari will be interested in your 'help'?" David asked.

"I think he'd be foolish not to at least consider it," Malik answered. "Jaddo's been captive for nearly three years now, mainly for want of manpower. I could provide that."

When David didn't reply, Malik propped himself up on one elbow again. "This isn't what I wanted, Mr. Proctor," he said earnestly. "None of it. I didn't want the king overthrown, but when he was, I saw an opportunity to change some things that needed changing. I tried to balance the competing sides, hoping they'd have to compromise to coexist. It was worth a shot, but it didn't work. I admit that. I'm going to have to pick a side, so I choose the king's side, and that means I need to find Brivari. Where is he?"

Silence. David gazed steadily at him for several long seconds before Malik sank wearily down on the bed. "I gather you think this is all some elaborate scheme to find out where he is?"

"The thought had crossed my mind," David admitted.

"A bit extreme, don't you think?" Malik asked, glancing at Marana lying unconscious beside him.

"You might be surprised what people are willing to do to convince you they're sincere," David said. "During the war, I know I was."

"So you honestly believe I would mortally injure a colleague—"

"What I 'believe' is a moot point," David broke in. "I don't know where Brivari is. My wife threw him out of our house when he showed up a short time after you did last year."

"What?" Malik exclaimed. "Why? She didn't believe us, and she was right when she said we had no evidence."

"No, you didn't," David said. "But I did."

Malik's eyebrows rose. "You had evidence? What kind of evidence?"

David nodded toward the bedside table. "Do you know where we got that?"

Malik swung his head around to find the healing stone on the table beside him. "I assume you got it from Brivari."

"Nope. That came from one Charles Dupree, one of those children you experimented on who woke up while you were working on him."

Malik stared off into space for a moment, sifting through memories from years ago. There had been so many children, hundreds of them, that their faces all tended to blend together after awhile. But only a fraction had actually awakened, and only one had awakened completely and repeatedly: A male, one of the few who was suitable for hybridization, something the bioscientists had intended to try at some point in the future, never realizing their hands would be forced by the king's assassination. Such males were highly prized; any child's brain was suitable for experimentation, but only a few possessed the necessary genetic imprint that would permit the combining of the species, and the vast majority of those were female. A male bearing the imprint was extremely rare, which explained why that particular male had been taken several times.

"I remember him," Malik said slowly. "He regained consciousness one night, and no one could ever figure out why. He'd never shown any resistance to the sedative before."

"He wasn't resistant; he was smart," David said. "He figured out it was something he inhaled, and held his breath. He practiced holding his breath for longer and longer periods, and kept waking up earlier and earlier...until that night, when he woke up in the middle of something. He grabbed that healing stone during the ruckus."

"And the two of you actually found each other?" Malik said, wondering just how much worse his luck was going to get. "What were the odds?"

"About the same that that stone would find its way back to the ones he took it from....and wind up saving their lives," David said. "Although I doubt he'd approve were he to find out."

Malik was quiet for a moment. "Is he all right?"

"Physically? Yes. Emotionally? He wasn't until just recently when he got married. He's in his twenties now, so that's a long time to be messed up."

"Mr. Proctor," Malik said carefully, "I know what this must look like to you, especially given your world's low level of medical technology. But I have to point out that this was extremely unusual. The vast majority of subjects are probably totally unaware of what happened to them, or if they are slightly aware, it's all been written off to bad dreams."

"And you feel that's an acceptable excuse for your people's behavior?"

David's tone was calm, his expression neutral, but there was no mistaking the challenge that lay behind that question. There was no way to justify what Antarians had done; human ethos condemned such behavior even if no one was harmed, and their primitive medical technology simply couldn't conceive of a way to take what had been taken without harming the donor. "So what are you planning to do with us?" Malik asked, not even bothering to mount a defense.

"I'm not going to turn you in, if that's what you're getting at," David answered. "I don't approve of how my own people are handling this situation. But I'm afraid you can't stay here very long. My wife won't have it, and I can't blame her."

"Then why did you help us?" Malik asked. "That didn't exactly endear you to your wife. Why would you take that risk?"

David shrugged slightly. "I don't believe in leaving the injured to die, regardless of my personal feelings toward them. And I've had some experience with how war changes things, how choices that never would have been considered become......"

"Acceptable?" Malik offered.

"Tolerable," David corrected. "Understandable. But never acceptable. The day that happens is the day you have nothing left after the war is over." He rose from the bench, his hands in his pockets. "Your change of heart is plausible to me, but it will be up to Brivari to decide whether or not he believes you. Good luck with your search."

The search won't be the problem, Malik thought as David left the room. He could have Spade pass along what had happened, of course, but he'd wanted to approach Brivari himself, fearing that crucial details would be lost in the translation. Perhaps it's best that I don't, Malik thought with a shiver, remembering Spade's Herculean efforts to make Brivari just listen the last time they'd met. Perhaps having an intermediary wasn't such a bad idea after all.



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



Eagle Rock Military Base



"You're kidding! " Stephen exclaimed. "More aliens are coming?"

"That's what Brivari said," Yvonne answered.

"Jesus," Stephen said in dismay. "When?"

"They're not sure because their source isn't sure. They're guessing within a month."

"Then it could be tomorrow," Stephen sighed as they sat in a corner of the base mess hall. "Let's just hope it isn't before Friday. I already doctored the duty roster to get John his phone call, and I can't risk that again right away. Did they say how many are coming? Are they all shapeshifters?"

Yvonne hesitated; she hadn't been looking forward to this conversation ever since Brivari had filled her in on the unwelcome news he and John had received in their "phone call". Dreading conversations seemed to be par for the course for her these days, as she always seemed to find herself in the position of delivering information her listener didn't want to hear. "The best estimate is about a hundred people," she said as Stephen's eyes widened, "and since their leader hates shapeshifters, the word is that he isn't bringing any with him. These are people from the race that the one who stole the king's throne belongs to, so—"

"Wait a minute," Stephen interrupted. "I thought they couldn't live here?"

"They found a way—"

"Of course they did," Stephen grumbled.

"—something about a disguise, some sort of suit that would make them look human."

"A 'suit'?" Stephen echoed. "Bet they didn't pick that up at Sears. Will the x-rays work on them?"

"They should," Yvonne answered. "The x-ray should be able to see through the disguise and reveal their bone structure, which would be different from a shapeshifter's, but definitely not human." She paused. "That's the good news."

"And the bad news?"

Yvonne bit her lip. "Supposedly these disguises are good enough that John and Brivari won't be able to tell an alien from a human."

"You mean like a hunter?"

"Unfortunately," Yvonne said. "But these aliens won't be able to recognize shapeshifters like hunters could. Neither can recognize the other, so they're even. Look, I don't think we should get all worked up about this," she continued as Stephen tossed his fork down in despair. "It's highly unlikely that they'll be here in the next few days, and even more unlikely that anything will go seriously wrong in that length of time. You said today would be a trial run for the real thing, and everything went fine, so everything should go just as well on Friday."

"Right," Stephen said glumly.

"Have you given any thought to what you're going to do afterwards?" Yvonne asked, anxious to change the subject.

" 'Afterwards'?" Stephen repeated blankly. " 'Afterwards' I'll be answering a whole lot of questions to a whole lot of brass who will have just lost their biggest prize. We all will."

"I know," Yvonne said patiently. "I meant after that. After the inquisition is over, and all this is shut down. Will you stay with the Army, or resign your commission?"

"Are you serious?" Stephen said. "Good Lord, I haven't even given that a passing thought. Have you?"

"Yes," Yvonne answered, having given the matter a great deal of thought. "I want to go back to school and become a doctor."

"A doctor," Stephen echoed. "You want to become a doctor."

"Don't you think I can?" Yvonne asked, bristling a little. "Just because most women become nurses doesn't mean we can't do more. I was the top scorer in my math classes."

"I'm not questioning your intelligence," Stephen said. "I'm certain you could do virtually anything you set your mind to. I just don't see why being a doctor is appealing, especially when we've got Pierce and Lewis as shining examples of the Hippocratic oath."

"I've spent a lot of time in Pierce's lab these last two years," Yvonne said, "and a lot of time thinking of everything we've learned from the aliens about the possibility of cloning, replicating organs, and all that miraculous stuff. I want to move our own world toward that; I know I could contribute after everything I've seen here because I know it can be done. And I'm not likely to throw the Hippocratic oath out the window, especially after what I've seen here."

"I know," Stephen sighed. "It's just that you're such a good nurse."

"Which means that I could be 'such a good doctor'," Yvonne insisted. "Besides, nurses follow doctor's orders. As a doctor, I'd be giving the orders. And I'd like that," she added with a smile.

"I'll bet you would," Stephen said dryly, returning her smile.

"So what about you?" Yvonne asked. "Where will you go?"

"I have no idea," Stephen said, shaking his head. "And I'm almost afraid to think about it in case I jinx everything. Let's just get him out, and then I can ponder my future while we're weathering the fallout."

Yvonne glanced around the noisy mess hall, making certain no one was close by before reaching across the table and taking Stephen's hand. A year ago, she would never have dared do that in public. Now, even though they kept a watchful eye on their actions on the base, what they did off the base was another matter, and to hell with what anyone thought of it.

"It really is almost over," she said gently. "And when it is.....wherever you go....wherever I go.....I hope we can go together."

"Me too," Stephen whispered, squeezing her hand....only to pull away suddenly as he glanced over her shoulder. "Damn it," he muttered sourly.

"Mind if I join you?" a voice drawled behind her.

Yvonne slipped her hand back into her lap as she turned around. "Corporal Walker," she said, trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. Of all the people to show up now, why him? "Of course not. Have a seat."

Walker promptly slid onto the bench right next to her....a little too next to her, causing Yvonne to shift sideways to the very end of the bench. Walker was still his usual nasty, sarcastic self, but he'd toned down his act appreciably just as soon as it had become clear that act would lose him privileges, namely the freedom to leave the compound or the base while off duty. It turned out that the best way to deal with a hard case like Walker was to make sure you had something to threaten him with.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Walker asked, scooching to the right, closing the gap between them and leaving Yvonne with nowhere else to go.

"No," Stephen answered flatly. "But it does look like you're crowding the Lieutenant."

"Am I, now?" Walker said in mock surprise as he moved a fraction of an inch in the opposite direction. "So sorry, ma'am. Wouldn't want to get too close. You know how tongues wag."

"You mean like yours?" Stephen said.

"Why, no, sir," Walker objected, with mock innocence this time. Everything was mocked with Walker. "I don't believe in gossip."

"The Captain and I were just talking about what we might do after this assignment is over," Yvonne broke in hastily before Stephen could answer. Relations between Stephen and Walker were still prickly at best. Walker was still known to carry on, though well out of their earshot, about how Stephen was an alien lover who was "doing" the compound's nurse. No wonder Stephen wanted to slug him every single time he saw him.

" 'Over'?" Walker echoed. "Why? Are we being reassigned?"

"No," Yvonne replied. "We were just talking about how this couldn't last forever, and speculating on what type of assignment we'd look for next."

"Oh, I see," Walker said, his mouth full of mashed potatoes. "You mean after the prisoner stops playing handyman, and they kill it and carve it up like they should have in the first place."

"No, Corporal," Yvonne said in a steely tone. "That's not what I meant."

"Oh, I'm sorry, ma'am," Walker said with a completely unconvincing smile. "I'd forgotten that you actually like that thing, actually think it's human."

"I don't think he's human," Yvonne replied pleasantly, "and I confess I'm beginning to have my doubts about whether you are either."

The smile slipped from Walker's face as Stephen threw her a warning glance. This was a switch; usually it was Stephen who got into a verbal fistfight with Walker, not her. "Is that so?" Walker said coldly, all traces of his fake friendliness gone. "You know, if I were you, ma'am—"

"Careful, Corporal," Stephen warned.

"—I'd be 'careful' who I rooted for," Walker finished, looking daggers at Stephen. "Those aliens have been coming here for years to experiment on our people."

"Right," Stephen said blandly.

"No, really!" Walker protested. "I have that on very good authority!"

"Just like every other UFO nut," Stephen commented.

"I didn't get that from a UFO nut," Walker insisted. "They wanted something inside us, something in our brains."

"Our brains?" Stephen echoed. "Now that's a new one. And that explains why they didn't take you." He stood up, gesturing to Yvonne to join him. "We'll see you later, Corporal. Enjoy your meal."

Yvonne walked away with Stephen, casting uneasy glances behind them at Walker, who was glaring at both of them. Brains. She'd heard countless wild tales about why the aliens were here, usually having something to do with global conquest, but this was the first time she'd heard anything that specific....and realistic. Both of the aliens they'd autopsied had possessed what looked remarkably like human brain tissue. Pierce had long theorized that the serum they were using on John worked precisely because the aliens shared at least some brain tissue similar to humans. This had been dismissed as pure chance, perhaps a similarity between their species, or perhaps all sentient species...but now she wondered. Given the aliens ability to clone and replace both organs and people, was it possible they had reproduced human brain tissue? Why would they want to do that? And more importantly, where did they get it from? Was that why the infant clones of Brivari's king and his family had looked human in his memories?

"You okay?" Stephen said as they headed out of the mess hall.

"Yeah. Sure," Yvonne said absently, still lost in thought. Normally she was all too happy to get away from Walker because he made her skin crawl; now she wanted to run back and question him closely. "It's just that....what he said.....well...."

" 'Well' what?" Stephen asked.

She was about to answer when a wave of pain swept over her, causing her to gasp and double over. "Yvonne!" Stephen exclaimed, breaking her fall as she slid to her knees, clutching her abdomen. "What's wrong?"

Yvonne opened her mouth to answer and found she couldn't speak as another wave of pain crashed over her, even more forceful this time. Her entire abdomen felt like it was on fire, accompanied by a pressure so intense, she was afraid she would burst. All she could manage to do was shake her head as she knelt clutching her abdomen protectively while a small crowd gathered around her.

"Is the Lieutenant all right?" a voice asked.

"Probably on the rag," another muttered.

"That's enough, Private!" Stephen's voice, ragged with anger.

"Sorry, sir," came an abashed answer.

"Someone go to the infirmary and get a doctor," Stephen ordered.

Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the pain was gone—completely gone. "No...it's all right," Yvonne said, climbing to her feet, amazed that so much pain and pressure could appear and disappear so quickly. "I'm all right."

"Are you sure?" Stephen asked.

"I'm sure," Yvonne nodded to the curious faces surrounding her. "It's over now. Thank you for your concern."

The crowd drifted off as Stephen put a protective arm around her shoulders right there in the middle of the hallway. "I'm walking you back to your quarters, and then I want you to lie down," he said firmly. "Maybe some of the food was bad. I hear over a dozen people came down with food poisoning last week."

Yes they did, Yvonne thought, having weathered that particular storm with several of the sick soldiers. But this wasn't food poisoning. It certainly could be her period, as that Private had so delicately suggested; it was overdue by a couple of days, something that happened occasionally. But that had been no period cramp. That crushing pain, that intense pressure.... Like something was very, very wrong.

Like something was trying to come out.


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


I'll post Chapter 121 next Sunday.

Oh boy! Rosemary's baby! Well, okay, not exactly. Pierce is Rosemary's baby! This should be interesting. And Malik will certainly have his work cut out for him trying to convince Brivari of his intentions... if he finds him. Hopefully, though, he'll succeed. Great chapter!

Island Breeze wrote:Oh boy! Rosemary's baby! Well, okay, not exactly. Pierce is Rosemary's baby!

Hah! :mrgreen: And someday he's going to have Pierce Jr. who will definitely qualify as Rosemary's baby. :P Whoever played Pierce must have done a very good job because whenever I see that (handsome) face, my skin crawls.....





CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-ONE


June 6, 1950, 1 p.m.

Copper Summit, Arizona



Amar stepped out the front door onto the porch, gazing up and down the street. The neighborhood was empty, the human children all off at the institution known as "school" which kept this little patch of Earth blessedly quiet until mid-afternoon. He had already performed the dispersal, or the most reasonable facsimile of a dispersal that he could muster. Letting the emergents' dust fly from the top of a tree in the backyard wasn't exactly what he'd had in mind, but it was the best he could do given Orlon's constant urging to be gone. He kept insisting that Brivari was likely to show up again any minute, and the fact that he had not done so continued to puzzle Amar. Why hadn't Brivari come back to finish them off? Did his absence mean that Marana and Malik had managed to wound him, or even kill him? Hopefully not, because Amar had been craving that honor ever since he'd learned of Brivari's presence on this world. And what of Marana and Malik? Amar didn't believe for a moment that Malik would help Brivari commit murder, but where were they? Were they dead, or lying injured somewhere? And why was Orlon uninterested in making even a brief attempt to look for them? Granted, Marana was no great loss, but Malik....Malik had been with him from the beginning, the only one left of the five who had run. For all that Amar was frequently annoyed with his politics and love of humans, it was Malik who had made their asylum here successful, learning the ins and outs of the human world and providing an interface for the rest of them. Now that interface was gone, leaving Amar with the task of relating to a world that had never been more to him than a refuge of convenience. He had completed the first distasteful task of the day; the second still loomed.

His hands jammed in his pockets, Amar crossed the front yard, climbed the next door neighbor's porch steps, and rang the doorbell. Heavy footsteps sounded inside as the massive female who lived here lumbered toward the door. A moment later, the door opened, and the female, "Mrs. Rahn", stared at him in shock.

"Hello," Amar said curtly.

"Tom?" the female said, her eyes darting around and through him as she hunted for Malik. "Why, this is a surprise! I don't think I've ever seen you at my door."

"We have to leave town for awhile, and Carl would like to know if you'd be willing to watch our house for us while we're gone," Amar announced, using Malik's human pseudonym. The humans all loved "Carl", so they were much more likely to grant favors asked in his name.

"Where is Carl?" the female asked, looking left and right as though she thought Malik might be hiding on purpose.

"He's left already," Amar replied, "and now I have to go. He thought maybe you could get the mail and pick up the newspapers."

"Of course," the female agreed. "I'd be happy to. Do you know how long you'll be gone?"

"Does it matter?"

"Why...no," the female said, flustered. "I was just curious, that's all. Why are you leaving? Is something wrong?"

Nosy humans, Amar thought sourly. "No," he said flatly. "We'll just be gone for awhile. Nothing's wrong."

"All right," the female said doubtfully, obviously unconvinced. "Is there anything else I can do to help?"

Sure, Amar thought sarcastically. Convince Khivar to provide a new group of embryos, which could be grown safely on Antar now that Zan was out of the way. Make certain that what appeared to be Athenor's bid for the throne was unsuccessful, as he would be no friend to Covari. And most important of all, find Brivari and tear him limb from limb for murdering both the one friend Amar had ever had and the hope that, one day, Covari would be born who were not tied to the king and were free to make their own decisions.

The thought of both his dead friend and his dead hopes made Amar's throat tighten, and he looked away from the female's curious stare. He'd suppressed his rage over their deaths because its intensity left him unable to function, ignored the grief he'd felt because there was no time for that. Now both emotions threatened to overwhelm him, and the fat human female proved more intuitive than Amar would have guessed.

"Something is wrong," she said firmly. "I can see it in your eyes. What's happened? Is Carl all right?"

"Carl is fine," Amar lied, struggling to conjure an explanation, realizing he wouldn't get off this porch without one. "There's....been a death in the family," he said, borrowing a human phrase he'd heard before that certainly seemed to fit the situation.

"Oh, dear!" the female said, waddling onto the porch as Amar backed up in distaste. "I'm so sorry! Was it someone close to you?"

"Yes," Amar whispered involuntarily, unable to cap his grief in the presence of sympathy.

"It's such a trial to lose a loved one," the female gushed. "I do hope it was quick, and they didn't suffer, dear."

The use of the endearment brought Amar to his senses. "I'm sure they suffered plenty," he said coldly. "They were murdered."

"Murdered?" the female echoed, her eyes wide. "Why, that's awful! Did they catch who did it?"

"Not yet," Amar said. "But we will." He turned around and headed down the steps, eager to end the conversation. "I'll let you know when we're back," he called, the female still hovering in shock on the porch.

"If there's anything else you need, let me know!" she called after him. "And please tell Carl how sorry I am."

So am I, Amar thought as he headed back to his own house. And so would Brivari be when they caught him. If Amar had anything to say about it, Brivari would regret Malik's death for as long as possible before suffering his own.



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


Proctor residence




Marana awoke to late afternoon sunshine on her face and just lay there, eyes closed, luxuriating in the warmth. She'd already awakened once before to Malik's voice telling her everything would be fine, that they were safe, and to go back to sleep. Everything had been hazy then, but not so hazy that she hadn't remembered how she'd arrived in this condition: Orlon. She remembered watching in horror as he'd injected the poison into a tank, confronting him, Malik intervening. She'd never been so angry in her life, but anger was no substitute for skill when it came to fighting. She'd realized she was getting the worst of it, but that hadn't stopped her, and now she couldn't remember how the fight had ended. So when she'd awakened in bed, weary but healed, with Malik whispering they were safe, she'd assumed that they'd won, that Orlon had been dealt with, and the remainder of the emergents still lived—how else to explain why she was "safe" in her sleeping room, and how Malik had obtained access to the healing stone? Perhaps Amar had returned early and joined the fray, or perhaps Malik had finished off Orlon after she'd been incapacitated. The details hadn't mattered, and she had gratefully closed her eyes and gone back to sleep. Now she opened them again, blinking in the sunshine. Her vision had cleared, and the first thing she noticed was that the window coverings were different. That was strange......

*Hello.*

Marana's head whipped around to find a human female child seated in a chair nearby, watching her. How had she gotten up here? Where was Malik that he would let one of the neighborhood children wander upstairs unchaperoned? Then it dawned on her that the child had spoken telepathically, and further inspection revealed her to be that awful ally of Brivari's who seemed to spell trouble wherever she went. I'm dreaming, Marana decided, sinking back on the pillow. That child couldn't be here now. She must still be somewhat delirious from her injuries, imagining one of the worst things she could think of.

*Are you okay?* the child asked.

Marana ignored her, willing herself to wake up. Odd. She felt like she was already awake.

*I know you can hear me,* the child said, sounding faintly put out. *Your eyes are open.*

*Maybe I just don't feel like talking,* Marana replied, noting that the dream child was every bit as persistent and annoying as the real one. *What are you doing here, anyway?*

*I live here, silly.*

*You live here?*

*Yes. You're in my house, in our guest bedroom.*

Marana's eyes snapped open as she scrambled back against the headboard. The window coverings were different...and that wasn't the only thing. Now that she looked carefully, the entire room was different. Even the child had changed; her face was longer and thinner than when Marana had last seen her, and she looked taller.

*Why would I be here?* Marana demanded, panic creeping up on her from every quarter. *Malik wouldn't have brought me here!*

*He told Daddy that he was trying to get to the Army base, but he couldn't go any further,* the child reported. *So he brought you here instead. My friend Anthony found you up in our treehouse, and Daddy made Mama let us bring you in. And it's a good thing he did because you really needed that,* she added, nodding toward the bedside table. Marana's head swiveled to find a single healing stone sitting there, and as she reached out to touch it with a large gray hand, she realized in horror that she was in her native form.

What followed was a good two minutes of frantic shifting, made difficult by her own exhaustion and panic. She was tired enough that she needed to concentrate in order to shift, but she couldn't; all she could think of was what her being here meant—that they had failed. If Malik had had to run with her in tow, that meant Orlon had prevailed and the emergents were now long dead, the complete opposite of the conclusion she'd reached earlier and a cruel blow after thinking they'd succeeded.

*You really didn't need to do that,* the child said after Marana had finally attained human form and lay back, panting with exhaustion. *I know what you look like. It doesn't bother me.*

*Where's Malik?* Marana demanded, struggling to sit up. The thought of being captive in this house with that horrible woman who hated her was more than she could bear.

*He's downstairs getting you something to eat. Where are you going?*

*I have to get out of here!* Marana exclaimed, swinging her too long human legs over the side of the bed.

*Don't you think you should get dressed first?* the child asked, eyeing her up and down.

Marana yanked her legs back under the covers as she realized that she'd forgotten to shift herself some clothing. Fortunately that was easier than changing shape, and a minute later, she was pushing herself into a sitting position again as the girl watched with interest.

*How do you do that?*

*Do what?* Marana said, wishing her head would stop spinning.

*Do the clothes. It looked pretty easy.*

*It is. It's just the outer layer of skin cells.*

*So if you pulled a button off that blouse, it would turn into dust?*

*Yes,* Marana said impatiently, wondering why fate had cursed her with a miniature bioscientist at the worst possible moment. *Now would you leave me alone? I said I need to get out of here.*

*Why?*

*Because your mother hates me, that's why! Is Brivari here already? Why hasn't he killed me yet?*

*Don't worry about Brivari,* the child sighed. *Mama threw him out months ago because he said that what you told us about experimenting on kids was true. We haven't seen him since.*

Wonderful, Marana thought darkly. Under different circumstances, knowing that they'd managed to have an impact on Brivari's allies might have been welcome news, but now all it meant was that Emily Proctor hated all aliens. If she couldn't—or wouldn't—contact Brivari, she'd probably notify the human military that they had another test subject available. And this was such a primitive culture that being a test subject would mean barbarity beyond Marana's worst nightmares.

That thought was enough to induce Marana to stand, only to sink back down onto the bed as the room started to spin again. *Stop it,* the child ordered in a credible imitation of her mother, pushing Marana back down onto the pillow and pulling the blanket over her again. *You can't go anywhere yet. Malik and I both used the healing stone on you, but you're still too tired. Mama's not going to hurt you.*

*She'll....she'll call....the military,* Marana panted, out of breath from being vertical for just a few seconds. *She'll turn....turn me in!*

*No, she won't,* the child said, sounding exasperated. *She's not that bad.* She paused. *But don't tell her I said that.*

*I have no intention of telling her anything,* Marana said irritably, her head clearing now that she was horizontal again, *and I don't see why she wouldn't turn me in. I know she hates me.*

*She sure does,* the child admitted. *But she agreed to let you and Malik stay until you got better. Plus she hates what the Army's done to Jaddo every bit as much as she hates what you did. Plus Daddy and I wouldn't let her.*

Marana closed her eyes, relaxing a bit as she heard the anger in that last sentence. Apparently the Proctors were not of one mind when it came to her presence here. She should be sufficiently recovered to leave within a short while, so perhaps if she just stayed out of sight in this room and let Malik run the interference he seemed to run so well, they would be lucky enough to get out of here alive.

*So,* the child said, plopping on the foot of the bed, startling Marana. *There's something I've always wanted to ask you. Why are you a girl?*

*What?*

*Why are you always a girl? The others are always boys...or almost always, anyway. But you're always a girl. Why?*

*I'm not a 'girl',* Marana said. *I just look like one.*

*But why do you look like one?* the child pressed.

*We are whatever we need to be in order to best accomplish our current task,* Marana said, trying to swallow her impatience with this line of questioning. If the child really was one of the few allies she had here, it would be best not to irritate her.

*Jaddo was a girl once,* the child said thoughtfully. *Mama didn't want people thinking she was running around with another man. And Urza became a girl once because he said he thought people felt sorrier for girls.*

*My point exactly,* Marana said. *They became female because it suited the circumstances.*

*So why are you a girl now?* the child asked, puzzled.

*Because this is a familiar form,* Marana answered wearily. *A familiar form is always easier to achieve, especially when you're as tired as I am. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get some sleep.*

*Were you always a girl back home?* the child persisted, ignoring her.

Home. Marana lay on her back, staring miserably at the ceiling, realizing for the first time that she didn't have a "home", not here, not anywhere. The humans hated her. No doubt Orlon had or would shortly tell a tale to Amar, Khivar, that awful Athenor, and anyone else who would listen that would make it impossible for her to go home. Brivari considered her an enemy, and even if that were to change, it would be years before Zan returned....and his assessment of the situation may well be different than his Warder's. Nowhere was safe, and everyone but Malik considered her an enemy. Malik would be content to stay on this world and masquerade as a human, but she could never do that.

Rolling onto her side, Marana curled miserably into a ball and closed her eyes, feigning sleep. A minute or two passed before the child got the message and left the room.




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


Eagle Rock Military Base



His well-cleaned tray in hand, Malik joined the line of soldiers in the mess hall stacking their dirty dishes for the mess staff to wash. Though he'd taken Mr. Proctor up on his offer of food for Marana, he'd been unwilling to do so for himself. Marana had been asleep when he'd come back upstairs from the kitchen, so he'd left food beside her bed and headed to the base to feed himself so as to minimize the impact of healing's high caloric requirements on their reluctant hosts. Mrs. Proctor was already unhappy having aliens in her house; having aliens eating her family out of house and home was unlikely to improve her disposition. Malik's frequent visits to the base made it a familiar place, one easily navigated and, ironically, far more comfortable than the Proctor's house. Besides, he was here for more than just the food.

Twenty minutes of searching found him what he was looking for: Captain Spade, walking with two other soldiers. Malik was always the one who found Spade during his periodic visits over the past two years, always waiting for a convenient time and place to approach. Time was of the essence now, though; whatever Brivari's opinion of Malik, he must be informed of the change in Orlon's allegiance as soon as possible. Now Malik headed toward Spade and his group, making certain he bumped into them, watching Spade's eyes widen slightly. He walked past, slowed his pace, and a couple of minutes later heard Spade's footsteps catching up from behind.

"It's always a bad sign when you show up off schedule," Spade remarked, falling in step beside Malik. "You were just here a couple of weeks ago. What's wrong?"

"Marana and I discovered that Orlon is secretly working for Khivar's second-in-command, not for Khivar," Malik said, coming right to the point. "He turned on us and tried to kill us. We had to run."

Spade stopped and turned to face him. "Whoa. Didn't see that one coming."

"I should have," Malik sighed, having had a great deal of time to think about this. "Both Amar and Marana kept warning me about how ambitious Orlon was, and how dangerous. A warning I did not heed."

Spade shook his head slowly as they both resumed walking. "And here I thought you were going to tell me that they'd figured out you were helping us."

"I'm sure that's the tale Orlon is telling Amar," Malik answered, "along with announcements that we're working with Brivari. Amar wasn't there when it happened, so he'll be at the mercy of Orlon's view of events."

"Will Amar believe him?"

Malik was silent for a moment. "I'm not sure," he said finally. "Amar can be hot-headed and impulsive, but he's not stupid. He knows Orlon is working for someone else because he accessed the communicator logs that confirmed that. He may very well figure out the truth."

"So where are you staying now?" Spade asked. "Are you here on the base?"

"We're staying with Brivari's human allies nearby until Marana recovers," Malik answered, omitting the fact that those allies were less than thrilled to have them there.

"You mean the girl and her parents?"

Malik looked at Spade in surprise. "You know them? Well, of course you would—you let them go the night they rescued the pods."

Spade blinked. "How do you know that?"

"Because I was there," Malik said. "I followed the girl's family when they left to get the pods, and I watched you find them. I was all ready to intervene when I realized you were going to let them go, so I took care of a sheriff's deputy who was nearby instead. My favorite part of the evening, though, was the part where you thought the girl was an alien," he added with a chuckle.

"Yeah, that was hilarious," Spade said darkly. "And I had no idea that culvert was Grand Central Station that night. So are the other two planning an attack?"

"I'm somewhat out of the loop now," Malik said dryly, "but I'm certain they'll both be around more than usual. I need you to tell Brivari what's happened. Can you do that?"

"Your timing is impeccable," Spade said, "because we're busting John out of here on Friday."

Now it was Malik's turn to stop walking. "Really? I take it he's done all he can with the ship?"

"More than that," Spade replied. "He got the radio running—yeah, I know, it's not a 'radio' radio, but whatever you call it, he got it running and they called home. Talked to some friend of the king's who lives on another planet."

"Larak!" Malik exclaimed, suddenly hungry for reliable news. "What did he say?"

"Bad news—apparently a contingent from your buddy Khivar's bunch will be here shortly, all dressed in human suits and looking just like the rest of us...the rest of us humans, that is. So we need to move, and we need to move fast. The first time I can pull it off is three days from now, so that's when he's going."

"I want to help," Malik said eagerly. "Even if Brivari won't have me, I can still help you somehow."

Spade shook his head. "No."

"No?" Malik repeated blankly as Spade resumed walking. "What do you mean, 'no'? You don't have to tell Brivari. I can take anyone's shape, spread false information, shoot accurately from long distances—"

"I don't need a resume," Spade interrupted. "I know what you can do. I'm just not comfortable having you around."

Malik looked at him in silence for a moment. "You still don't trust me, do you?" he said softly.

"Remember when you came here on the Fourth of July and talked to Brivari, or tried to?" Spade asked. "Later that night, I asked John how I could convince Brivari to let you help, to make him see that things had changed, that if he wanted to get John out of here, he was going to have to take a chance with you."

"So.....you wanted Rath's Warder to twist the King's Warder's arm?"

"Yeah. What about it?"

"Nothing," Malik said, smiling faintly. "It's just that sometimes I forget you have a completely different relationship with these people than I do, or ever will. So what did he say?"

"He said there was nothing I could do to change Brivari's mind unless I threatened to stop helping him....and even that might not work. Funny thing is, I agree with Brivari now. It's not worth the risk."

"So you think I won't do what I say I will?"

"I think I don't know what you'll do," Spade countered. "I think you don't know what you'll do. You're a waffler, Malik. You help this side one day, the other side the next. I believe you when you say you want to bring all the various sides to the table, that you saw a chance to end what you considered abuse, but I can't ignore the fact that the last two times I tried to either keep John from being captured or had a chance to spring him, you sedated him."

"I had good reasons for doing that at the time," Malik reminded him.

"And what 'good reasons' are you going to have this time?" Spade demanded. "I'll only get one crack at this particular escape plan, and that's not even counting the new aliens on the way. If John is still here when they arrive, they'll attack, and even if they don't succeed, that still means more men dead and more parents to lie to. I am not going through that again just because you suddenly develop an urge for 'balance' at exactly the wrong time." He paused a moment as they walked along in silence. "Look," Spade continued, more gently this time, "for what it's worth, I don't doubt your motives. I believe you really are trying to do what's best for your people. But I can't afford to screw this up. I'll tell Brivari what's happened and that you've offered to help, but frankly, even if he agrees to let you, I think I'd try to talk him out of it."

"All right," Malik said quietly. "Should you change your mind, you can find me at 251 Baldwin Street in the town of Corona for a few days, at least."

"I'll keep that in mind," Spade answered. "Where will you go after that?"

"I really don't know," Malik admitted. "Where will you go when there is no prisoner left to guard?"

Spade shook his head. "Yvonne asked me that, and I'll tell you the same thing I told her: I don't want to jinx anything by even thinking about it. Let's just get John out of here, and then I'll move on to the next step."

"Good luck," Malik said sincerely.

"Thanks. You too."

Spade walked away, leaving Malik alone between two buildings pondering the irony of the universe. After all his "waffling", all his refusals to take sides, he had finally come down on one side....and no one would believe him.



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


4:30 p.m.

Proctor residence



Pulling plates from the cupboard and a handful of silverware from the silverware drawer, Emily Proctor began setting the table for dinner. Three places, exactly—one for her, one for David, and one for Dee. The chicken cooking in the oven was similarly sized, perfect for one small family plus some leftovers for sandwiches or lunch. She had informed her husband that there would be no aliens at this table and no waitressing this time, no trips back and forth with trays laden with food; if the aliens wanted to eat, and experience told her they always did, they would either have to feed themselves or prevail upon the more gullible members of this household, which would be everyone but her. David had duly informed her when the male alien wanted to fetch food for his injured companion, and Emily had promptly left the house, heading over to the Brazels, where Rose had listened sympathetically as Emily had vented about her current state of affairs and commiserated about how awful it must be to participate at least tacitly in something one very much disapproved of.

"I'm sure this must be very difficult for you, dear," Rose had said soothingly, "and I'm sure you have your reasons. Mac told David we're willing to let them stay here while they're recovering, didn't he?"

"I can't let you do that," Emily had argued, part of her having not believed her husband when he'd delivered this particular message. "With all that Mac's gone through, the last thing you need are a couple of aliens in your house."

"But everything's been quiet for so long now," Rose had answered, "and, after all, you've been through far more than we have. Are you sure we can't take them off your hands?"

"Positive," Emily had said, and then changed the subject, feeling vaguely hypocritical for complaining about unwelcome house guests and then refusing to let a willing host take over. It was maddening, really, to have everyone acknowledge her opinion, acknowledge her right to hold it....and then offer to do exactly what she didn't want to, as though they disapproved of her reluctance to help but didn't want to say so. Ironically, Dee, who usually "said so" at every available opportunity, was a good deal more chipper now that aliens were in the house, and would no doubt revert to her usual argumentative self just as soon as they recovered and Emily booted them out.

The doorbell rang. Emily froze, realizing that it had been quite some time since she'd had reason to fear a ringing doorbell. Fortunately it was only Anthony.

"Hi, Mrs. Proctor. Can I see Dee?"

"Anthony," Emily said slowly, coming out onto the porch and closing the door behind her, "I think it would be best if you didn't visit for a few days. Just until things.....calm down."

"Why?" Anthony asked in alarm. "Is something wrong with Dee?"

"No, no, she's fine," Emily assured him. "She'll be back in school tomorrow, and the two of you can talk then. Well...not talk, exactly, but....you'll see her then," she finished, finding it awkward to have yet another short member of the "alien club". Anthony probably knew more about her family's business than anyone but the Brazels, maybe even more than they did.

"I won't say anything," Anthony promised. "I haven't said anything for a long time now, just like Dee hasn't."

She must have said something, or you wouldn't know about any of this, Emily thought sourly. "I'm glad to hear that," she answered. "I'll tell Dee you were asking after her. Good night, Anthony."

"Are you still mad at her, Mrs. Proctor?" Anthony asked.

Emily closed her eyes for a moment, praying for patience. "I'm not 'mad' at Dee, Anthony. I've never been mad at her. She's the one who's mad at me."

"Oh. Okay," Anthony said doubtfully.

"Look, I'm sure you've heard some pretty nasty things about me," Emily rushed on, feeling a sudden, irrational urge to defend herself to this child. "And I'm sure you heard me say things this morning that didn't exactly sound charitable. Anything I've done—or haven't done—has been because I'm worried about my family's safety."

"I know," Anthony nodded. "I'm sure you have good reasons. Goodbye, Mrs. Proctor."

Emily stared after him for a moment before going back inside the house and returning to her dinner preparations, slamming cupboard doors and stirring the mashed potatoes a bit too vigorously. "I'm sure you have good reasons...." Even the twelve year-old was patronizing her, and by the time dinner rolled around, she was in an even fouler mood than before.



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


Eagle Rock Military Base




"Lieutenant!" Cavitt's secretary called cheerfully after Yvonne knocked. "I was just packing up to leave for the day. Something I can do for you?"

"I'm just dropping off this Request for Leave form," Yvonne answered. With John gone every weekday, it wasn't hard for her to get leave; the paperwork was merely a formality. Of course, all that was about to change.

"No problem," Harriet answered. "Shoot," she added, rifling through the stack of file folders on her desk. "I don't have Dr. Pierce's budget estimates, and I meant to work on those at home tonight."

"Would you like me to go downstairs and find them?" Yvonne asked.

"Oh, no dear," Harriet answered. "I know right where they are; it would take longer for me to describe where to find them then to get them myself. Just leave your form on the Colonel's desk, and he'll get it first thing tomorrow morning when he comes in."

Harriet sailed out the door leaving Yvonne dumbfounded at something she'd thought she'd never see: The door to Cavitt's office wide open, and Cavitt gone for the day. That had never happened before, not in all the countless hours she'd spent here helping Harriet in one way or another in a bid to find out something, anything more about Betty Osorio. As happy as she was that John was finally going to be free, her one regret was that after early and stunning success, she and Stephen had hit a dead end on their investigation into Betty's death. Even after finding Captain Carver and convincing him to tell his story to Deputy Valenti, that was as far as they'd gotten. Yvonne had been through every single file in Harriet's part of the office without success, and she'd never made it through to Cavitt's private office. Now the door to the inner sanctum stood wide open, and everyone was gone. This was one of those once-in-a-lifetime chances.

Her heart pounding, Yvonne glanced quickly behind her before crossing the usually hated threshold to Cavitt's office. He rarely bothered her anymore, but she would never forget how he'd kidnapped her and called it a "transfer", or how he was likely responsible for the deaths of not only Betty, but two of Stephen's fellow soldiers besides. Only two pieces of furniture looked promising: The desk and the lone file cabinet behind it. The desk was locked, and Yvonne only halfheartedly pulled on one of the drawers in the file cabinet, expecting that to be locked too. Imagine finally getting in here, only to find everything locked up tight. Not that Cavitt was likely to have a folder marked "How to Kill People"....at least not here. That brief bolt of lightning that had led her to Hal Carver's address tucked inside Harriet's Rolodex wasn't likely to strike twice.

The drawer slid open.

Yvonne's breath caught in her throat as she pulled on each drawer in turn—they were all open. Well, of course they were; turning the key in the little lock in the upper right hand corner of the cabinet locked every drawer, so they were either all locked or all unlocked. The files were arranged alphabetically, A in the top drawer and Z in the bottom. Where do I look? Yvonne thought frantically, glancing back through the open door. It would take Harriet a while to walk to the basement and back, but time was still precious. Should she look under "O" for Osorio? "M" for murder? "H" for hit man? Or how about "W" for White?

Yvonne squatted down beside the bottom drawer and started rifling through the file marked "W". She hadn't gone far before several very familiar photographs appeared: The photos Cavitt had taken of her and Betty at the diner on the day after the ship was discovered. The ones he had waved in her face and threatened to court-martial her with, and trotted out again the very first time she'd been allowed out of the compound after the lockdown had ended. The source of his power over her. And they still are, Yvonne thought sadly, staring wistfully at Betty's smiling face. She could take the photos, but Cavitt still had the negatives, so he could always have more printed.

"Lieutenant?"

Yvonne froze, her back to Harriet, the photo still in her hand along with her Request for Leave Form. The bottom file drawer was open, but fortunately, she'd closed the others; still, there was no getting past the fact that she'd obviously gone fishing through the Colonel's files. Perhaps it was time for some genuine outrage.

"The drawer was open, and I saw this.....what is this?" Yvonne demanded, thrusting the photograph at Harriet. "Why would the Colonel have a picture of me? That's not even on the base! Is he having me followed? What for?"

Harriet glanced at the photo. "He's not having you followed, Lieutenant," she said gently. "This is that reporter, Betty Osorio, who was bothering everyone right after the crash. I dealt with her several times myself, and I know she was harassing various people, including you, from the looks of it."

"Betty wasn't 'harassing me'; we were having breakfast!" Yvonne exclaimed. "Can't I have breakfast without my commander following me around and taking my picture?"

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but security is the Colonel's responsibility in this operation," Harriet said. "No doubt he was just trying to keep tabs on who she was talking to, and a good thing, too. The word is that she stole classified documents from the base, although I can't for the life of me figure out how she would have done that."

Carver handed them over, Yvonne thought, noting that Harriet apparently hadn't considered that possibility. She was so devoted to the military that she probably couldn't conceive of someone on the base actually sympathizing with Betty. In fact.....

Yvonne stared at Harriet as a disconcerting thought occurred to her. Betty still referred to John as "it", and had just condoned the stalking of military personnel going about their private business. Was it possible she condoned other measures as well? Was it possible......

"Is that why they killed her?" Yvonne asked suddenly.

Harriet blinked. " 'Killed her'? What do you mean?"

"Betty is dead, Harriet. She was killed in a car accident just a couple of days after this picture was taken, and before she could report in with her newspaper."

"My goodness," Harriet whispered, gazing at the photograph in what appeared to be genuine shock. ""I....I didn't know. I had no idea she was dead. That's awful! She was so young."

"Some people thought the Army had her silenced," Yvonne continued, watching Harriet carefully. "Do you think that's a possibility?"

" 'Silenced'?" Harriet echoed. "What, do you mean....Lieutenant, you're not suggesting.....do you mean to tell me that people think she was murdered? By the Army?"

"That was one theory," Yvonne said. "You've got to admit the timing was suggestive. And given what you just told me about her having classified documents...." She let her voice trail off, allowing Harriet's imagination to finish the sentence.

But if Harriet knew anything about the circumstances surrounding Betty's death, it certainly wasn't showing on her face. "No," she said, shaking her head vigorously. "No, no. I mean, if she was in possession of stolen documents, she would have been arrested and tried, but murdered? Good Lord, Lieutenant, this isn't Russia! That's not how these things are handled in the United States of America! No, I'm afraid Miss Osorio is the victim of nothing more than a tragic accident. And even though I'm glad she was prevented from terrorizing the public by revealing what's happening here, I know that no one here would ever stoop to such means to achieve that. To do so would be a slap in the face to everything this country stands for." She reached out and took the photograph from Yvonne's hands. "I'm sorry this upset you, Lieutenant, and extremely sorry for what happened to this woman, but I assure you the rumors are wrong. And if you thought otherwise, perhaps now you can rest easier."

Don't bet on it, Yvonne thought, excusing herself as Harriet replaced the photo in the cabinet. She wasn't quite certain why she'd dangled that in front of Harriet; if she did know something about Betty's death, it was highly unlikely she'd volunteer that information. But her surprise seemed genuine, as did her adamancy that foul play could not be involved. Either Harriet was a superb actress, or she genuinely believed the Army was not capable of such behavior. Either way, it was another dead end in the quest for justice for Betty Osorio. With John's escape set for just a few days from now, that quest was now over; John's escape would eventually bring about the closing of the compound, which meant that any evidence here would disappear. Time's up, Yvonne thought sadly as she closed the door to her quarters behind her....and doubled over again with the same crushing pain she'd had earlier that day. It came out of nowhere, hitting her like a tidal wave and causing a tidal wave of its own. Twenty minutes later, she'd washed her soiled uniform in her bathroom sink with trembling hands and hung it on the shower rod to dry, then curled on her bed, clutching her abdomen.

Her period had finally arrived, and she was bleeding like crazy.



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

I'll post Chapter 122 next Sunday.

Okay, this does not sound good! I just know that this heavy bleeding and all the cramps she's been having mean a big problem for Yvonne very soon. I'm surprised at Cavitt leaving his door and drawers open, but I'm not surprised that Yvonne's having trouble turning up any evidence against Cavitt. He's black hearted but not stupid.

Dee asks some good questions!

*So,* the child said, plopping on the foot of the bed, startling Marana. *There's something I've always wanted to ask you. Why are you a girl?*

*What?*

*Why are you always a girl? The others are always boys...or almost always, anyway. But you're always a girl. Why?*

*I'm not a 'girl',* Marana said. *I just look like one.*

*But why do you look like one?* the child pressed.

Marana and Emily are going to have to make some kind of truce, I think, but that's like asking a fox and a chicken to live in the chicken's coop together. It's bound to be a problem. Emily seems to know deep inside that she's wrong. At least she realizes that everyone else is patronizing her and that they think she's wrong. But getting her to admit she was wrong may be harder than defeating Khivar! I'm not really sure why she wouldn't let Anthony see Dee, except that she blames him and Dee both for her situation now, I guess.

Great chapter!

Hi, Gerry! Emily is about to be forced to reassess her position, and in the process, she and Dee will come to terms with each other, to a certain extent at least. They're too much alike, those two. I don't envy David his position between them, although he's no pushover himself. I guess he couldn't be, or he'd never get a word in edgewise!

And I imagine Harriet (Cavitt's secretary) has a key to Cavitt's filing cabinet, and she left it open. Cavitt trusts Harriet implicitly, although I think he's going to regret that in the near future.







CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-TWO



June 6, 1950, 7:00 p.m.

Mescalero Indian Reservation



"I am not!" River Dog said hotly.

"Are too!" his younger brother Grey Wolf teased. "You are sweet on Nalin! Are you going to ask her to marry you?"

"I...well....so what if I am?" River Dog demanded, flushing. "That's none of your business!"

Brivari's eyebrows rose as Grey Wolf broke into a wide grin and the rest of the family chuckled at River Dog's embarrassment. He was nineteen years of age now, old enough to take a mate, and apparently considering doing just that.

"Father, make him stop!" River Dog said in exasperation. "He's been teasing me about this for a week!"

"A man old enough to marry should not need his father to tame his little brother," Quanah said blandly.

"Are you married, Nasedo?" Grey Wolf piped up.

Brivari smiled. "No."

"Of course not," Itza-chu broke in from his seat across the table. "Men like Nasedo and I have far too many demands on our time to take wives."

Brivari smiled again, inwardly this time. The medicine man had remained cordial since the hunters' attack last year, but he still kept a watchful eye out, frequently appearing when Brivari visited Quanah's house and always finding some way of associating himself with Brivari.

"I thought family was supposed to stick up for each other," River Dog muttered. "Are families this annoying where you come from, Nasedo?"

"Absolutely," Brivari confirmed without hesitation. "Maybe more so."

Family. Brivari's thoughts drifted away as Grey Wolf started a fresh round of teasing and River Dog a fresh round of protest. Larak had been as good as family, and speaking to him today had buoyed both Brivari's and Jaddo's spirits. It was good to know that news of the Royal Four's survival would spread throughout the five planets, that the Queen Mother still lived, that Larak was willing to grant protection to those who fled Khivar's rule. Perhaps there would be something left for Zan to salvage after all. Assuming they could keep him alive until his emergence, that is, a prospect which had grown murkier when Larak had delivered the bad news about the Argilians' impending arrival.

"Jaddo is still captive?" Larak had exclaimed in astonishment.

"For the moment," Brivari had answered. "We have allies within the human military who will try again to free him in three days time."

"I hope everything goes well," Larak had said worriedly. "It should take longer for the Argilians to arrive, but if Jaddo is captive when they get there, he will be an easy target."

"Are the Argilians bringing Covari with them?" Jaddo asked.

"I don't know," Larak answered. "I doubt it, because word is their delegation is led by Athenor, who hates Covari."

"Athenor?" Brivari echoed. "Why would Khivar send his second-in-command all the way out here?"

"Because he blames Athenor for the death of the royals," Larak replied. "Khivar wanted them alive and apparently entrusted that task to his second, who botched it. This is supposed to be his chance to correct his mistake."

" 'Mistake'," Jaddo snorted. "That was no 'mistake'. I watched Athenor kill Rath, and I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he personally gave the order to kill the rest of the royal family as well, including Vilandra."

"Quite likely," Larak sighed, "not that that makes any difference now. We did hear that Khivar sent some of your own people to Earth to apprehend you. Is that true?"

"He sent four hunters, along with Orlon and a bioscientist," Brivari answered. "Two others were already here, deserters from a previous mission of the king's. The hunters are all dead, and one of the deserters now claims to want to help us."

"Do you believe him?" Larak asked.

"How can I?" Brivari said. "He betrayed the king once, and could do so again."

"Ordinarily I would agree," Larak had said. "But these are not ordinary times, Brivari. Jaddo cannot be there when the Argilians arrive. We hear their husks are extremely lifelike, a bioengineered life form virtually impossible to detect. And this is no small band—they number at least a hundred. You cannot afford to have your next escape attempt fail."

They had signed off shortly after, not wanting to press their luck, and Jaddo had been very quiet. Too quiet.

*What?* Brivari had demanded.

*Spade felt the same way,* Jaddo had said, *that circumstances warranted taking the risk of trusting Malik. He even asked me how to convince you of that.*

*And what did you tell him?*

Jaddo had smiled faintly. *That he couldn't.*

*A wise answer,* Brivari had replied.

But was it? Brivari had pondered that question all the rest of that day, including during his later meeting with Spade to go over the details of the escape. It was a good plan, very likely to work, but there was no question it could benefit from the addition of another Covari, especially since they could not afford a failure this time. But was this just what Malik had been waiting for, for the situation to become so desperate that Brivari felt he had to trust him, only to turn on him again at a critical moment?

"We need to take everyone down as quickly and quietly as possible," Spade had said as they'd sat at a table in the mess hall, using cutlery to indicate the main areas of the hangar, "starting with those nearest the doors, the phones, and anyone with a radio. You, me, and Thompson will need to have several rifles because each only holds three tranquilizer darts, and they take too long to reload."

"So the most we can take down in the first wave is nine," Brivari had said.

"Right," Spade had answered. "Nine out of about twenty. We'll have to move fast, and we can't afford too many misses. If even one soldier manages to call for help, it's all over."

"What if we had another pair of hands?" Brivari had asked.

"Thompson thought of that," Spade had answered. "He was looking into a way to smuggle a rifle onto the ship so John could use it, but—"

"I was referring to Malik."

Spade had looked up in surprise. "Have you seen Malik recently?"

"No, but I know where to find him," Brivari said.

"I doubt it. He's here."

"Here?"

The ensuing discussion had been Brivari's second shock of the day. Orlon's duplicity was not surprising, nor was Athenor's attempt to clamber onto Antar's throne; every moron out there was probably trying to do the same thing. No, the second shock of the day was Spade's reaction.

"I don't trust him," Spade had declared, "and I told him that. What if he develops a sudden urge for 'balance' right in the middle of everything? Wouldn't be the first time."

"But this would be the first time I've heard this argument from you," Brivari had noted. "I believe we're backwards, Captain; you're usually the one trying to convince me to trust Malik, not the other way around."

"So what changed your mind?" Spade had asked.

"The ally we spoke with today, a good friend of the king's and the leader of one of our sister worlds, suggested that I might need to set aside my distrust in the interest of freeing Jaddo before our next round of enemies arrives."

"I'm honored that the leader of another planet agrees with me," Spade had said dryly. "I've been saying that for years."

"But you're not saying it now," Brivari reminded him.

Spade had sighed and fallen silent for a moment. "Look, you want him? You've got him. You know him way better than I do. But I don't like it. I'd be much happier if we could pull this off without him."

As would I, Brivari thought heavily, still undecided. Malik might help....or Malik might hinder. There was simply no way to tell.

"You are quiet tonight, Nasedo," a voice said, interrupting his thoughts. "Is something wrong?"

Brivari looked up to find only Quanah and Itza-chu at the table, the rest of the family being engaged in cleaning up after the meal with the exception of River Dog and Grey Wolf, who had taken their differences elsewhere. Both men were staring at him curiously, and Brivari was suddenly seized with a powerful longing. It was at times like these that he felt Valeris' absence most keenly, and David Proctor's as well.

"I would ask advice from both of you," Brivari said.

Quanah merely looked interested at this announcement, but Itza-chu sat forward eagerly in his chair. "What sort of advice?" he asked.

"One who once betrayed me now seeks to help me," Brivari said, "and I am uncertain as to whether or not I should trust him."

"That is a difficulty," Quanah agreed. "If he was willing to betray you once, he could do so again. Does he now say he was wrong to betray you?"

"No," Brivari admitted. "He claims he had good reasons for doing so which remain valid even now."

"Then he is honest," Quanah said thoughtfully. "A liar would have plied you with apologies."

"Do you feel his reasons are valid?" Itza-chu asked, coming right to the heart of the problem, as usual.

Brivari hesitated. "I have reason to believe they may be."

"A traitor with credibility presents an even greater problem," Quanah allowed.

"What of this man's actions?" Itza-chu asked. "Words are cheap; deeds are not. What do his deeds tell you?"

"He has warned me of approaching trouble many times, despite my hostility toward him," Brivari answered.

"At a risk to himself?" Itza-chu questioned.

"Possibly, if he were discovered," Brivari said.

"Assuming he wasn't assigned to win your confidence in just this way," Quanah said.

"Exactly," Brivari sighed.

All were quiet for a time, each lost in his own thoughts. Finally Quanah spoke again. "Can you accomplish whatever it is you wish to accomplish without him?"

"If that were the case, there would be no conflict," Itza-chu said.

"But can you do it?" Quanah pressed. "Are the odds of success really that low without him?"

Brivari was silent, staring off into space. Prior to the news of Malik's flight, he would have said "no"; Spade's plan was a good one, likely to succeed....but the game pieces had moved to different places on the board. It was now clear why Orlon had been waiting, biding his time without attacking; he was waiting not only for reinforcements, but for the arrival of his true master. And now that Orlon had not only lost all four hunters, failed to apprehend either Warder, and failed to find the hybrids, but also lost two other members of their team as well, he might be unwilling to bide his time any longer. He would want something to show his master to make up for his spectacular string of failures, so it was quite possible that he and Amar would try to reach Jaddo any time now, a move which could result in increased security even if unsuccessful. This was yet another reason they needed to move fast and had no margin for error; having at least one more Covari on their side would greatly improve the odds.

"Nasedo?"

Brivari came to, realizing that he'd been ignoring both men for the second time that night. Quanah and Itza-chu exchanged knowing glances.

"I believe," Quanah said gently, "that your silence is your answer."



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


Eagle Rock Military Base




"Lieutenant White is going to provide our alibi's," Spade was saying to Thompson as they walked from the base's main building toward the compound, "so hopefully everyone will think that aliens took our shapes and busted their friend out. Of course, that will mean that those 'aliens' got past the x-rays somehow, but that's what the alibi's are for. Something wrong?" he continued when Thompson didn't answer. "You haven't said a word. Do you see something wrong with the plan?"

"No, sir," Thompson answered. "I think it'll work. It's just that....well....I'm wondering if you should have blown off the lead alien's interest—what's his name again?"

"Brivari."

"Right. Weird name. "If 'Brivari' wants the informant's help—"

"Malik."

"Right. That one's not so weird. Anyway, if he wants Malik's help, why aren't we doing that?"

Spade suppressed a smile. Brivari's reappearance had meant there were two aliens visiting the base on a regular basis, which meant Thompson had had to resort to using actual names to tell them apart, something he avoided whenever possible. "I didn't tell him I wouldn't do it," Spade said. "I told him I didn't want to."

"That's the part I don't get," Thompson said. "I thought you were trying to convince him to accept Malik's help."

"I was," Spade sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I've just seen him flip-flop too many times for comfort."

"Isn't that what 'Brivari' used to say?"

"Yes."

"Sounds like Malik isn't the only one flip-flopping anymore," Thompson said.

"I just want this to work," Spade said, bristling because Thompson had a point. "With more aliens on the way, we can't afford to screw this up."

"But wasn't that Brivari's reason for wanting Malik to help?"

Yes, it was, Spade thought, chagrined. Both he and Brivari had flip-flopped, ironically for the same reason: Neither were willing to see this escape attempt fail.

"Okay, you've made your point," Spade admitted. "And if he wants Malik's help, I'll take it. But I don't have to like it. The last thing I want is to have to clean out someone else's quarters and ship them home with a lie about how they died because Malik had a sudden hankering for 'balance'. Or find you, or me, or Lieutenant White in trouble because they found out—"

"Lieutenant White is in trouble?" said a voice behind them.

Spade and Thompson whirled around to find Sergeant Brisson only a few steps behind them. "No, she isn't," Spade said casually. "Do you make a habit of eavesdropping, Sergeant?"

Brisson flushed. "No. I.....I just heard her name, that's all."

"And he's sweet on her," Thompson added under his breath.

"What did you say?" Brisson asked sharply.

"Nothing," Thompson said innocently as Spade smiled. Brisson's crush on Yvonne was hard to miss, as was his disappointment that Spade and Yvonne were well known as a couple off the base, although they kept their interaction on the base strictly professional. They'd run into Brisson in town a few times when they'd been off duty, and each time he'd looked as crestfallen as a kicked puppy.

"Something you needed, Brisson?" Spade asked, changing the subject.

"No. I was just walking back to the compound, so I thought I'd join...."

Brisson stopped both talking and walking, staring off into the distance. Following his gaze, Spade saw a figure several yards away bending over as though in pain. "Sir," Thompson said slowly, "isn't that Lieutenant White?"

But Brisson was already gone, sprinting ahead of them as they scrambled to catch up. It was Yvonne, walking slowly, her hand clutching her abdomen just like she had earlier today. "What's wrong?" Spade asked anxiously, supporting her right arm while Brisson had her left. "Is this the same thing as before?"

"I don't know what it is," Yvonne whispered, as though talking took too much effort. "I thought I was just late, and it was a bad one. It did get better....but then it got worse after dinner. I need to get to the infirmary," she clarified when Stephen stared at her, not following any of this. "I need a doctor."

"This way," Brisson broke in, steering her toward the building which housed the infirmary. Thompson held the door while Brisson and Spade whisked her inside....but Brisson sailed right past the infirmary and headed down a flight of stairs at the end of the hall.

"Where are you going?" Yvonne asked. "We passed—"

"This will be more private," Brisson said hastily, taking the first door on the right at the bottom of the stairs, some kind of examining room from the looks of it. Brisson started fumbling through cabinets as Spade helped Yvonne onto the examining table.....and was horrified to feel her go limp.

"I think she passed out!" Spade exclaimed.

Brisson hurried over and checked Yvonne's pulse. "Her heart rate is steady, and her breathing's okay," he reported. "What did you mean when you asked her if this was the 'same thing'? Has this happened before?"

"She doubled over today when we were leaving the mess hall," Spade said, nervously kneading Yvonne's hand. "She looked like she had a bad stomachache, or something. Then it went away, and she was okay. I thought maybe it was food poisoning."

"This isn't food poisoning," Brisson said with certainty. "Did she say anything else?"

"What was she saying just now?" Thompson broke in, hanging back beside the door. "Something about something being late? What was late?"

The color drained from Brisson's face. "Jesus," he whispered.

"What?" Spade demanded. "She needs a doctor. Get a doctor!" he ordered Thompson, who fumbled for the door knob.

"No!" Brisson objected. "Not yet! Lock the door," he ordered Thompson, who hesitated.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Spade exclaimed. "She said she needed a doctor, and now she's passed out! I'm getting her a doctor!"

"No!" Brisson insisted, planting himself between Spade and the door. "Look, I don't have time for explanations. All I know is that if you get anyone from the infirmary, Dr. Pierce will find out about this, and if what's happening is what I think is happening, you will never see the Lieutenant again!"

Spade stared at Brisson in shock, Thompson's equally astonished face visible over Brisson's left shoulder. "Pierce?" he whispered, rage constricting his throat. "What did he do to her? What did that bastard do to her?"

"I told you, I don't have time for explanations!" Brisson repeated impatiently.

"What did he do to her?" Spade shouted.

"Captain, please!" Brisson begged. "There's no time! I have to—"

Slam! A moment later, Brisson was up against the wall with Spade's hands around his throat as Thompson watched, wide-eyed, only inches away.

"Make time!" Spade roared.



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


Proctor residence



Malik paused at the door to the Proctor's guest room, another plate of food in his hand. Marana lay on the bed, her back to the door, and didn't move when he approached. "I know you're awake," he said. "I brought you something else to eat."

"I don't want it," Marana said tonelessly.

"You must be hungry," Malik said.

"I don't want that awful woman's food."

"You ate 'that awful woman's' food earlier today."

"That was before her nosy daughter came in here, and before I knew that she didn't intend to let us eat."

"She said she wasn't willing to prepare food for us, not that we couldn't eat," Malik corrected. "That's fine with me—I know how to cook."

"Well, it's not fine with me," Marana said stonily. "The only reason I'm still here is because I'm not strong enough to leave."

"If you don't eat, you'll never get strong enough to leave," Malik pointed out.

Silence. Malik set the plate down on the bedside table and sank down on the bed with a sigh. "You can hardly blame her for being angry after what we told her. She has a right to feel the way she does."

"There you go taking their side again, just like you always do," Marana muttered.

"Are you going to argue with me, or eat so we can get out of here?" Malik asked.

"Where were you earlier today, Malik?" Marana continued, ignoring his question. "Were you trying to find Brivari?"

Malik hesitated, uncertain whether honesty was the best policy at this point. In the past, of course, he'd had to hide his sympathies from everyone, Marana included. But now that she'd personally witnessed Orlon murdering their own people, was it possible she would see the wisdom of having all sides of this conflict free to hammer out a compromise?

"Yes," he answered, taking a chance.

"You've been working with him all along, haven't you?" Marana said, sounding completely unsurprised.

"Hardly," Malik said ruefully. "I've only spoken to him once, not counting the time he tried to kill me, that is."

"The night we chased him from the human festival," Marana said. "You followed him to the military base."

"Yes."

Marana propped herself up on one elbow. "What did he say?"

"He didn't say much of anything," Malik admitted. "He just listened, and only because his human ally insisted on it. I told him why Amar and I ran, what Zan and his father had been doing with Covari they wanted to silence. And he told me that someone would always rule us, and I could either accept whoever it turned out to be or participate in their selection."

"Which is what you said to me later," Marana said. "After you lied to us and said you hadn't seen him at all."

"That's also what you said to me later—after you lied to us about nothing happening when you came here looking for him," Malik noted. "The girl's mother gave you away. What happened?"

Marana lay down again, avoiding Malik's gaze. "She figured me out. She put something called 'pepper' in my tea, and when I didn't react to it, she knew. She.....she threatened me with one of those handheld human weapons."

"She pulled a gun on you? You're very lucky she didn't say anything about that when we were here with Orlon."

"Look, the important thing was that Brivari wasn't here," Marana said peevishly. "My mission was to see if he was here, and he wasn't. Your mission was to see if he was at the base, and he was....and you didn't tell us. So don't get all high and mighty on me. We could have caught him that night."

"And I'm very glad we didn't," Malik said, "especially since I now know who Orlon is really working for and who our next ruler may be. I may have been willing to live under Khivar's rule, but Athenor's? Never. Having both Warders captured would be a disaster."

Marana twisted her head around and stared at him for a moment before sitting bolt upright on the bed. "You gave us away the night we attacked the military base, didn't you?" she demanded. "You went and told them we were coming! That's why they knew! It wasn't Amar after all—it was you!"

"It was very important that Jaddo not be captured—"

"Never mind Jaddo; what about me?" Marana sputtered. "That serum was guarded because you tipped them off, and I got shot with a tranquilizer dart! I could have been killed! Or worse yet, not killed! You were willing to have the rest of us get captured just so Jaddo could go free?"

"Of course not!" Malik said impatiently. "You're conveniently leaving out the fact that no one was captured. I knew they only had tranquilizer weapons, and I also knew that if enough of us went down, Orlon would withdraw and we could get the rest of us out of there. Which is exactly what happened, if you recall."

"But what if it hadn't?" Marana demanded. "You took an awful risk with our lives, Malik! What gives you the right to—"

"Apparently I'm not the only one taking a 'risk with our lives'," Malik interrupted. "You knew the girl's mother had a gun, but you said nothing. If Orlon had known she was armed, he probably wouldn't have brought us all inside that day. Did you stop to think of that?"

"At least I wasn't consorting with the enemy!" Marana retorted.

"I'm sure that would have made us all feel much better if Mrs. Proctor had shot us," Malik said dryly as Marana collapsed into a sulk, leaning against the headboard. "And Brivari's not the enemy, he's just another player on the board, representing a player currently out of commission. He was right, Marana, and so were you—someone will always rule us. I'm throwing my weight behind the king, and none too soon, as it turns out."

"What does that mean?" Marana asked suspiciously.

"It means we have another problem," Malik said. "Brivari's human ally told me that Jaddo managed to fix their ship's communications system, and he and Brivari contacted Larak. The Argilians will be here very shortly, with Athenor leading the way."

Marana's eyes widened in horror. "Are they sending hunters?"

"Larak thinks not. But the Argilians apparently have very realistic shells that make them virtually impossible to identify. Of course they can't identify us either, but they won't have to identify Jaddo. He's what the humans call a 'sitting duck'."

"Oh, will you stop worrying about Jaddo and worry about us for a change?" Marana exclaimed. "Orlon will tell them all sorts of stories about us betraying them, and there won't be any way for us to defend ourselves!"

"Didn't you hear anything I just said?" Malik asked irritably. "They can't identify us, and Orlon probably thinks we're dead anyway. Brivari can elude them, but Jaddo is already captive, and we can't let him fall into enemy hands."

"Do you think I care what happens to the Warders?" Marana demanded. "Like I said before, they came down on the wrong side of a political coup, and that was their decision. I'm not going to make the same mistake. If Athenor takes power, we have to make certain we're in his good graces."

Malik stared at her in astonishment. "Marana, this isn't just about you, or us. It's bigger than that. It's about our world, our people, how we're treated—"

"I know how we're treated," Marana interrupted bitterly. "Some of us were at the bottom of the heap, while others, like Royal Warders, were at the top. I mean to be at the top of any heap I'm in, any way I can get there."

"Then why did you stop Orlon when he was killing the emergents?" Malik asked coldly. "He offered you an out. Why didn't you take it?"

Marana lay back down on the bed, curling into a fetal position. "I should have. If I'd had time to think about it, I would have. Principles are useless, Malik. Principles get you killed....or worse. I want to live. Don't you? Isn't that why you ran?"

Yes, it was, Malik thought. But he'd run because of his principles, not away from them, and time and distance had given him a perspective he'd lacked back then....a perspective Marana lacked now. Perhaps it was too soon for her. He had voluntarily left his life, while hers had been ripped from her.

"So what's Brivari doing about this?" Marana asked. "Are they going to try to free Jaddo before the Argilians get here?"

Her tone was neutral, but something in her voice made Malik hesitate. "I don't know," he lied after a moment. "They didn't say. And I didn't ask."



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



Eagle Rock Military Base



Brisson felt the wall pressing into his back and Spade's hands around his throat, not precisely choking him yet, but threatening to any minute. Over one of Spade's shoulders he could see Corporal Thompson, goggle-eyed; over the other, Lieutenant White, lying unconscious on the exam table. Her vital signs were steady for the moment, but given what was probably happening, that could change any minute now.

"Captain, I'll explain as soon as I can, but—"

"You'll explain now!" Spade ground out, pulling Brisson off the wall and smacking him into it again. "What did Pierce do to her?"

"If you'll let me go, I'll run some tests," Brisson said peevishly. "Repeatedly shoving me into the wall isn't going to get you your answers!"

Smack. "Like hell it isn't," Spade breathed, inches from Brisson's face. "Talk!"

"Okay! Okay!" Brisson exclaimed, wincing as a stab of pain shot from the back of his head. "He was trying to.....to impregnate her. With alien cells," he added hastily as both Spade's and Thompson's jaws dropped. "He was trying to produce an alien-human infant."

"She agreed to this?" Thompson asked incredulously.

"N...no," Brisson stammered. "She doesn't know anything about it."

"Then....how?" Thompson asked.

"He drugs her," Brisson admitted. "Knocks her out. She never feels a thing."

"How long?" Spade whispered, apparently having lost his voice.

"A little over two years," Brisson said. "We can't let Pierce find out he's succeeded, or you'll never see her again! Cavitt can't know either; he's in on it too, has been from the beginning."

"What about Ramey?" Spade demanded.

"Ramey thinks Pierce is studying alien brains by growing alien embryos in a laboratory," Brisson said. "We got the idea from the human-looking brain tissue the two dead aliens had. Pierce thought maybe our species were related, that maybe our brains could do what the aliens' brains did. He came up with the idea of using Lieutenant White to cross breed the species, and Cavitt agreed to keep it secret. Captain, we really don't have time for this," Brisson finished impatiently. "Do you want to play twenty questions, or do you want me to help the Lieutenant?"

For a few seconds, the only sound Brisson heard was the pounding of his own heart. Then the hands around his throat closed, cutting off his airway, making him gasp for breath.

"You knew," Spade rasped, his voice ragged with rage. "You knew, didn't you? You helped him! You've known all along, you stupid, butt-licking toady!"

"I tried....to stop him," Brisson gasped, tugging at Spade's hands. "....to make sure....it didn't....work....I.....Captain.....stop....need to....help her...."

The floor rushed up to meet him as Spade abruptly let go, dropping Brisson like a stone. Coughing, he turned his head to find Thompson holding off Spade. "Sir, you can't!" Thompson argued. "We need him—"

"Out of my way!" Spade shouted.

"...she needs him!" Thompson continued, still planted squarely in front of Brisson. "Whatever happened, Dr. Pierce can't know about it, and the Sergeant is willing to keep it quiet. He's also the only one who knows what was done, so you have to let him help her!"

"I'm gonna kill him!" Spade bellowed.

"You need him now," Thompson insisted. "Kill him later, after she's all right."

Mercifully, Thompson seemed to get through. Spade withdrew to the other side of the room, prowling like an angry animal while Brisson remained on his knees, still gulping air. "What do you have to do to help her?" Thompson asked, the only conscious person in the room right now with a clear head.

"I need to draw some blood," Brisson said in a scratchy voice, his throat still not having recovered. "She was pregnant once before, and there were weird proteins in her blood that—"

"What?" Spade broke in. "She was pregnant before?"

"Briefly," Brisson said, "so briefly that she didn't realize it and neither did Pierce until it was all over. But I think I can settle if this is an alien pregnancy or something else, in which case we'll get regular medical attention."

"And if it is an....'alien pregnancy'?" Thompson asked. "Then what do we do?"

Brisson closed his eyes and swallowed painfully. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Spade demanded.

"We're getting ahead of ourselves!" Brisson objected. "Let me run some tests first and make sure we're dealing with what I think—"

"I'm going for help," Spade announced.

"No!" Brisson exclaimed, wincing as his throat complained. "Didn't you hear anything I said? Pierce can't know! You breathe a word of this upstairs, and he'll be here quicker than—"

"Not that kind of help," Spade interrupted.

Brisson looked in confusion from Spade to Thompson, who were exchanging glances. "Do you think he can help, sir?" Thompson asked.

"He's got the scientist with him," Spade answered. "Maybe she can help. Two heads are better than one. You," he said severely to the befuddled Brisson, "do whatever you can for the Lieutenant. I'll be back as quick as I can."

"What.....who....where on earth are you going?" Brisson demanded. "What 'scientist'? What are you talking about?"

Spade advanced on Brisson so quickly that he backed up against the wall to forestall another slam, his hands protectively around his own throat. "Listen to me," Spade said angrily. "Your job is to find out what's wrong with her. And if anything happens to her before I get back, I'm taking it out of your hide. If you—"

"You don't need to threaten me, Captain," Brisson interrupted sharply. "I told you I've been trying to thwart Pierce, and until tonight, I've been successful. She may prefer you, but you're not the only one who cares about her."

"Oh, you 'care' about her, do you?" Spade said sarcastically. "This is how you 'care' about people, by turning them into lab rats? I'm sure the Lieutenant will be very impressed with how much you 'care' about her when she recovers, if she recovers. And she'd better recover, or you won't!"



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


Proctor residence



"Good dinner tonight," David said, sliding into the recliner in the living room and reaching for the newspaper.

"Mmmhmm," Emily murmured, stretching a sock over her darning egg and reaching for her needle and thread.

"Everything quiet?" David asked.

"If you mean our 'guests', neither of them have shown their faces outside the guest room when I've been around," Emily replied. "A wise course of action, if I do say so myself."

"Good," David answered, ignoring her sarcasm. "You know, Rose and Mac are still willing to take them if—"

"Will everyone please stop patronizing me!" Emily exclaimed, stabbing the darning needle into the sock. "That's all I've heard all day! 'We understand how you feel'. 'I'm sure you have your reasons'. All said in tones that make it clear that I'm this evil person for not leaping to the aid of aliens who think nothing of kidnapping people and experimenting on them."

"I wouldn't call that patronizing," David said evenly. "I'd call it respecting your opinion."

Emily was about to hold forth on just exactly what she thought of those who were supposedly "respecting her opinion" when the doorbell rang, followed by a rapid series of knocks. "I'll get that," she said, simultaneously grateful for the interruption and annoyed that whoever was on her front porch hadn't bothered to give her time to get out of her chair. "Coming!" she called when another frenzied burst of knocking erupted. She peeked out the side curtain to see who was being so annoying....and froze.

"David?" she whispered. "There's a soldier on our front porch!"

Emily withdrew from the window, shaking, as David took her place. "He appears to be alone," David reported. "And he looks familiar....."

"I don't care what he looks like!" Emily said. "What's he doing here?"

"Let's find out," David said, his hand on the door knob.

"No!" Emily exclaimed. "What if they know! What if—"

"Is anyone home?" a man's voice called from outside, muffled by the closed door. "I'm looking for Malik. Is he here?"

David and Emily exchanged shocked glances as a fresh round of knocking erupted. "Open up!" the soldier called frantically. "I need Malik now!"



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


I'll post Chapter 123 next Sunday.

Hello and thank you to everyone reading!




CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-THREE



June 6, 1950, 2130 hours

Eagle Rock Military Base



Sergeant Brisson's hands shook as he placed a drop of blood near the edge of a glass slide. Setting the edge of another slide directly on the drop, he waited for the blood to wick the length of it. Preparing blood smears correctly was one of the hardest things medical technicians learned to do; too thick or too thin, and the slide would be unreadable. The trick was to wait until the entire drop of blood had spread sufficiently around the edge of the pusher slide before using it to push the blood across the flat slide, effectively spreading out the cells so they could be examined under a microscope. The perfect smear was thicker at the lead edge and "feathered", or very thin, at the far edge. Then the slide was dried and stained, a step which was unnecessary in this case; alien cells stood out clearly beneath a microscope without assistance.

Damn! One of the slides clattered to the floor as Brisson pushed too hard, ruining the smear. "Is something wrong?" Corporal Thompson asked behind him.

Only that at least three different people want, or will want, to kill me, Brisson thought, swearing under his breath as he mopped up the floor and washed his hands. "Don't distract me!" he snapped at Thompson. "I have to concentrate to do this!"

"Sorry," Thompson said, abashed. "I'll be quiet."

Brisson grabbed another slide to prepare another smear, feeling guilty about taking it out on Thompson, who had been nothing but helpful since Captain Spade had left to do God-knows-what. Thompson had taken a hastily scribbled note up to the infirmary asking for various medical supplies that this first floor examination room lacked, which had given Brisson time to examine Lieutenant White more thoroughly and thrash over this latest turn of events. What happened? he asked himself over and over. Had Pierce discovered his deliberate mislabeling of the alien reproductive cells, or had Lieutenant White's body simply adapted to the alpha cells which had never impregnated her before? Was her prolonged exposure to that one type of cell responsible for that adaptation? And if so, what could he have done to forestall this, given that the beta cells had definitely impregnated her?

Whatever the answers to these questions, the results of the exam had been encouraging: Her blood pressure, heart rate, and body temperature were elevated, but not dangerously so. A soaked sanitary pad revealed earlier heavy bleeding which had now all but stopped, similar to what had happened the last time she had briefly conceived. He'd taken various samples and had her all tucked in under a blanket by the time Thompson had returned with a microscope, slides, and various other paraphernalia. The first task was to see if the blood she'd passed contained the same alien cells he and Dr. Pierce had seen the last time this had happened. He spread the smear successfully this time, placed it under the microscope, and removed his glasses to focus it.

A minute later he sat back and breathed a huge sigh of relief. The same alien cells were there, so she had been pregnant. But there were nowhere near as many as before, meaning she'd probably already passed the zygote in the first rush of bleeding, and any subsequent bleeding wouldn't have contained the same amount of alien leavings. This was definitely a more violent episode, but hopefully it was already over and she would recover shortly, leaving all of them with the comparatively simple task of coming up with an excuse for her malaise that Pierce would believe. As for the interesting question of what he was going to say to the lieutenant when she awoke, that could wait until later. Feeling much less panicky now, Brisson prepared a second smear using blood drawn from the lieutenant's arm. Nothing had shown up in her regular blood work the last time she had conceived, but he just wanted to be sure.

The door behind them opened abruptly, and Brisson whirled around to find Captain Spade entering the room followed by a baby-faced private bearing a tag that read "Johnson". "How is she?" Spade asked worriedly, leaning over the lieutenant.

"Stable," Brisson answered, staring at the strange soldier. "Who the hell is he?"

"Someone who knows more about this than you do," Spade answered.

"I'll do what I can, but I'm no doctor," the private said.

"Captain, who is this?" Brisson demanded, stepping between the private and the lieutenant.

"Move," Spade said curtly.

"You can't go dragging just anybody in here!" Brisson said angrily. "This kid barely looks old enough to shave! And what about his security clearance? No private outside the compound has the necessary security clearance to—"

"Move!" Spade ordered.

"No!" Brisson insisted.

"Sergeant, he's a friend," Thompson broke in as Spade's eyes narrowed dangerously. "And trust me, he knows all about the al—"

"Shhh!" Brisson interrupted. "We are all in big enough trouble without you spitting out classified information, and you turning this into some sort of joke!" he hissed, glaring at Thompson and Spade in turn. "What, is this some wet-behind-the-ears medic who's a friend of yours? Because if it is, I assure that I know far more than mmph!"

Brisson's eyes bulged as Spade's hand clamped over his mouth. "Show him," he ordered the private.

"Are you sure?" the private asked doubtfully.

"We're never going to get anywhere if you don't," Spade answered. "Show him."

The private hesitated a moment, then nodded. Brisson struggled in Spade's grasp as Spade turned his head square to the private, who looked at Brisson steadily.....and then his eyes began to change. They grew larger, the corners tilting upward and the pupils disappearing as utter blackness rolled down like a curtain. He'd seen eyes like that before, but never in a human face.

A moment later the eyes had returned to normal as Brisson sagged against Spade, perversely grateful that he was there to support him. "So now you get it," Spade said softly in his ear. "Yes, this is an alien. Yes, he is a friend. And just in case you haven't practiced your deductive reasoning lately, yes, that means I have a friend who is an alien. He's here to figure out what's wrong with Lieutenant White, and you're going to help him. Because if you don't, I'm going to break every single bone in your body. Have I made myself clear?"

Brisson felt the hammerlock on his head ease a bit, allowing him to nod. He did so, never taking his eyes off the alien who mercifully hadn't tried to come any closer.

"I'm going to let go of you," Spade announced. "No yelling, no screaming, no noise of any kind, or it's lights out. Are we clear?"

Brisson nodded again. Slowly, Spade released him....and Brisson lurched sideways, putting the table that held the microscope between him and the alien, panting and panicky. What was Spade doing consorting with aliens? Were there more of them? The prisoner had threatened to kill him if anything like this ever happened to Lieutenant White; would this one do the same?

"Just take it easy, Sergeant," Thompson said urgently. "You're okay."

"Get back here!" Spade ordered.

"Captain, let me," the alien said.

Let it what? Brisson thought wildly, his heart racing as he backed into the wall. "Don't come any closer!" he exclaimed, not the least bit surprised to find that his voice was shaking every bit as much as the rest of him. "Stay away!"

"Okay, I'll stay here," the alien replied promptly, shushing yet another outburst from Spade. "Your name is 'Brisson', right?"

"How...how did you know that?" Brisson quavered.

"I know a lot about this place," the alien answered calmly. "Like the way you feel about Lieutenant White, for example. You like her, don't you?"

"Sure I do," Brisson said defensively, feeling himself flush. "Everyone does."

"Of course they do," the alien said soothingly. "And you wouldn't want anything bad to happen to her, would you? That's why you told Captain Spade that you tried to prevent what Dr. Pierce was trying to do."

Brisson said nothing. Spade glowered behind the alien, his expression making it clear what would happen to Brisson if he didn't cooperate. "What I need to know from you," the alien continued, "is exactly what Dr. Pierce was doing and how he was doing it. That may tell me how best to help the lieutenant."

Silence. Brisson opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. "Talk!" Spade bellowed.

"Captain, please," the alien said sternly as Brisson jumped. "Start at the beginning," it continued coaxingly to Brisson. "What made Dr. Pierce think he could produce an alien-human child?"

Brisson felt his throat relax. This was concrete information he was very familiar with. "The brain tissue," he said—or, rather, croaked. "The...aliens we studied had brain tissue that looked exactly like human brain tissue. So he thought maybe our species were related somehow, related enough to crossbreed."

"Okay," the alien said. "And then what?"

"And then....and then we found two different kinds of cells that didn't disintegrate like the rest of your...their....bodies did. So he thought maybe those were reproductive cells."

"Right," the alien said encouragingly. "Go on."

"We....we did all sorts of tests trying to put the two kinds of cells together, and then trying to put each kind with a human ovum. Sometimes the alien cells would combine, but they always died quickly. But both cells combined with human ova and survived, although each type of cell seemed to prefer certain ova. Or maybe it was the other way around."

"And?"

"And....he needed an incubator," Brisson said, flattening further against the wall at the dangerous look in Spade's eyes. "We....he...started sedating the lieutenant when she was most fertile and...and....well....you know. He used one type of cell for months and it didn't work, so he switched to the other type...and she briefly got pregnant. It looked like a bad menstrual period to her, so she never knew what happened. But there were alien cells in the blood she passed, so Pierce knew it had worked."

"And then?" the alien asked.

"And then I....I switched the labels on the cell samples so she'd get the first type of cell again, the ones that had never worked," Brisson confessed. "And they never have worked until now."

"So," the alien said slowly, "what we have here is the product of one alien cell and one human egg. May I see the blood samples you took?"

"Right there," Brisson said, backing further away as the alien moved to the microscope. "The one on the left is what's left of....whatever she passed, and the one on the right is her own blood.

No one said a word as the alien pulled up a chair and examined both slides. Brisson pressed himself as firmly into the corner of the room as he could manage, while Spade alternately paced and hovered worriedly over Lieutenant White, and Thompson remained in front of the door as though afraid someone would make a run for it. Which wouldn't have been a bad idea, in Brisson's opinion, if only making a run for it didn't entail running past a live, unfettered alien and a murderous Captain.

At length the alien sat back in the chair looking troubled. "I'm not a doctor, so I'm going on the little information I have on this subject. But it looks like we have a problem."

"But she's passing only a few alien cells," Brisson protested, momentarily forgetting that he was arguing with an alien as he pointed to the sample of menstrual blood. "She's probably already aborted like she did the last time."

"I don't think so," the alien answered. "Did you look at the other sample?"

"No," Brisson admitted. "You busted in just as I was about to."

"Then you'd better take a look," the alien announced, turning the microscope around to face Brisson, who blanched.

"Move away from the table," Brisson demanded.

"Brisson—" Spade began.

"No, no—it's all right," the alien said, standing up and stepping away from the table.

"Further away," Brisson insisted.

The alien backed up all the way to the other side of the room before Brisson was willing to approach the microscope. What he saw there was horrifying: Lieutenant White's blood was teeming with alien cells, all kinds of alien cells, a few he recognized and plenty he'd never seen before. "This didn't happen last time!" he exclaimed, his eye to the microscope. "Her blood was clean last time! Completely clean!"

"Does the blood of a human mother and fetus ever intermingle during gestation?" the alien asked.

Brisson looked up from the microscope to find Spade and Thompson giving the alien blank stares. "No," Brisson answered, "it doesn't. Nutrients pass from the mother to the baby, and waste from the baby is eliminated by the mother, but their blood never mingles. It passes through—" He stopped, as it dawned on him what the alien was getting at. "Oh, no," he whispered.

" 'Oh no' what?" Spade demanded.

"I thought she'd miscarried," Brisson said, sitting back in the chair in shock, "but the last time she miscarried, there were no alien cells in the Lieutenant's own blood. In order for these cells to be here now, there must be a placenta, and in order for there to be a placenta, there must have been a successful implantation."

"Which means what, exactly?" Spade exclaimed, his voice rising in panic.

"It means she's pregnant," the alien said gravely. "And like I said, we have a problem."

"But...is that bad?" Brisson countered. "If the bleeding stopped and she's stable, isn't that good?"

"For the moment," the alien answered. "But I don't think it will stay that way. As I recall, our cells and human cells don't combine well."

"So what do we do?" Spade demanded.

"I'm not sure," the alien said. "This isn't my area of expertise. We need Marana, but she's too weak to bring here. Can we get the lieutenant to where I'm staying?"

"Yes," Spade said firmly. "We'll use the same car—"

"No!" Brisson interrupted. "You can't just spirit the lieutenant out of here to let a bunch of aliens play with her! I—"

Suddenly Brisson was up against the wall again, Spade's arm pressing against his throat, his face only inches away. "Don't talk to me about 'playing' with the lieutenant," Spade hissed furiously. "It's you and the good doctor who've been playing with her for years, from the sounds of things, and now you're going to make it up to her. Thompson!" he called to the wide-eyed Corporal Thompson. "Take the Sergeant back to the compound where he will come up with a suitable excuse for Lieutenant White's absence. Don't let him out of your sight until he does."

" 'Excuse'?" Brisson squeaked. "What kind of 'excuse' could cover this?"

"Emergency leave," Thompson said promptly, still one of the clearest heads in the room. "We could say a family member has suddenly become gravely ill. Any ranking officer on duty at the time the leave becomes necessary can sign off on it. It'll buy us a few days, at least."

"Excellent," Spade said, heaving Brisson off the wall and launching him at Thompson. "Both Cavitt and Pierce are gone for the night, so that means I'm in charge. Dig up a relative, bump him off, and fill out the necessary papers."

"But how are you going to get her out of here?" Brisson protested, wrenching his arm away from Thompson. "What are you going to do? Just toss her in the back seat and hope no one notices? She has to sign herself out, Captain! The paperwork won't help—"

"Brisson, turn around," Spade interrupted.

"—if there's no record of her having left the base, and—"

"Brisson!" Spade said sharply, grabbing him by the shoulders and spinning him around. "Look!"

The rest of his sentence caught in his throat as Brisson looked straight ahead in shock. To his left, unconscious on the exam table and bundled in a blanket, was Lieutenant White. A few feet away from her stood.....Lieutenant White. Or rather, a perfect copy of Lieutenant White, right down to the uniform she was wearing, those dark brown eyes, and that ever-so-slightly crooked front tooth he found so endearing.

"Don't worry, Sergeant," the fake Yvonne said in a perfect Yvonne voice. "The lieutenant shouldn't have any problem signing herself out."



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


Proctor residence



"Are you coming to bed?" David asked.

Emily gazed out the living room window, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. "You don't really expect to get any sleep, do you?"

"Whatever's happening is happening at the base, not here," David said. "There's no point in us getting all worked up over it."

"What did they say again?"

"You heard everything I heard," David answered. "Someone named Lieutenant White is sick."

"Who's he?"

"I don't know," David said, "but Malik seemed to. Must be a pretty important guy for someone to risk coming to an alien for help."

"You're sure that soldier was the same one who let us get away with the pods?"

"I think so," David said. "And we know Brivari has allies at the base, so it makes sense he would be one of them."

"And would know where to find an alien," Emily murmured. "He did look familiar, but....God, David, he was so young when we first saw him, barely a man, and now...."

"It's been three years, Em," David said quietly.

"He looks like he's aged at least ten," Emily whispered.

"Yeah...well, he's probably been through his own version of hell. They've had Jaddo all this time. They still do."

Don't remind me, Emily thought. Jaddo's fate was a touchy subject for her, a living reminder that, given the chance, her own people would gladly behave just like Brivari's. Dee rarely missed an opportunity to shove that subject under her nose whenever they were locked in one of their all-too-frequent battles, and its resurfacing now was all the more uncomfortable given her well known opinion of their alien "guests".

"Come to bed," David said, draping an arm around her shoulders. "Malik can tell us about it when he gets back. Is Dee still asleep?"

"Yes, thank God," Emily said as they headed for the stairs. "She must have been tired enough that the noise didn't wake her. She won't be happy she missed something."

"She didn't miss anything," David said. "Spade left as fast as he arrived, and—"

"Wait," Emily interrupted, pausing two steps from the top. "Did I hear a car?"

A moment later, both David and Emily were scrambling down the stairs. It was a car which had pulled halfway down their driveway, stopping right by their side door. Standing in the doorway in her robe and slippers, Emily gaped as Malik climbed out of the driver's seat and the soldier from earlier climbed out of the back.

"Mr. Proctor, Mrs. Proctor," the soldier said, his voice low and urgent, "I'm Captain Spade. Do you remember me?"

David and Emily exchanged glances. "Yes," David answered, "if you're the same 'Spade" who let us go the night we met in the culvert."

"That's me," the soldier said. "And now I need you to return the favor. I have a sick woman here who needs help."

"A sick 'woman'?" Emily said, peering into the car.

"Yes, ma'am. Lieutenant Yvonne White, a nurse at the compound where they're holding a prisoner of your acquaintance."

"If she's sick, why bring her here?" David asked. "Shouldn't she be in a hospital?"

"Not that kind of sick," Spade said. "One of the doctors at the base tried to....to...." He stopped as though he just couldn't bear to finish the sentence.

"He tried to impregnate her with alien cells," Malik finished, as Emily drew back in horror. "And he succeeded, I'm sorry to say. She needs Marana's help." He closed the door and came around the front end of the car. "I know you don't want Marana and me here, Mrs. Proctor, and I know why. But this woman is both human and innocent, I'm certain she'll die if we don't intervene, and we can't let the doctor who did this to her know that he was successful. May we bring her inside?"

"Of course," Emily said faintly, stunned at what she'd just heard. "Bring her upstairs."

"Could you give me a hand, Mr. Proctor?" Spade asked.

Emily stepped back as David and the captain maneuvered a relatively short, dark-haired, unconscious young woman out of the backseat. She was wrapped in a blanket, her hair partially falling out of the clip which had held it, and her skin was so pale against her Army uniform that she resembled a ghost. As soon as she was clear of the car, Spade lifted her by himself. "Thanks—I've got her," he said, nestling her head beneath his chin. "Where to?"

Emily reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from the young woman's face, felt her cold, clammy skin, saw the look in the soldier's eyes. "Upstairs," she heard Malik say. "Marana's in the second room on the left."

"Do you think she'll be willing to help?" David asked.

Emily didn't hear Malik's reply; she was already back in the house, heading for the second floor. Oh, she'll help, she thought grimly as she skipped up the steps two at a time. I'll see to that.



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



Marana was sound asleep when the bedroom lights suddenly flicked on, causing her to sit up so quickly that she was momentarily dizzy. "What is it?" she said, blinking against the light.

The girl's mother stood in the doorway, hands on her hips. "Move," she demanded.

"What?"

"I said move," the woman ordered.

"I take it you've decided to rescind your oh-so-generous offer of shelter," Marana said coldly. "Couldn't you have at least waited until morning?"

"Everything isn't always about you," the woman answered curtly. "You are no longer the most injured person in this house, and there's only one extra bed. Move."

Marana was about to ask what in blazes she was talking about when a human soldier entered the room carrying a human female, followed by the girl's father and....Malik. "Malik, what's going on?" Marana demanded, scrambling up as the soldier deposited the apparently unconscious female on the bed. "Who is this?"

"She needs your help, Marana," Malik said. "This is a nurse from the base where Jaddo is being held. One of the doctors there impregnated her with our reproductive cells."

"Oh, did he now?" Marana said, her eyes locked on the girl's mother. "So I gather we're not the only 'monsters' in the galaxy? Interesting."

"Marana, please—" Malik began.

But the girl's mother advanced on her so quickly that Marana backed up, bumping into the wall when she could go no further. "Don't you even think of copping an attitude with me!" the woman said furiously. "I already know we have monsters; we just fought a war against a whole pack of them, and now here's the work of another. None of that excuses your behavior. You are going to help her. It's the least you can do after what you did to those children. Consider it room and board."

"I don't owe you a thing," Marana said flatly.

"And what about me?" Malik broke in. "I saved your life when Orlon would have killed you. I know what's wrong with her, I just don't know what to do about it, so at least tell me what to do if you won't do it yourself. You owe me that."

Marana looked from one face to another, from the woman's angry expression, to the near panic in the soldier's eyes, to Malik's resolute stare. He had saved her life by pulling her away from Orlon, although, frankly, she'd begun to wonder if he'd done her any favors. There were several times today when she'd thought death might have been preferable.

"I don't know what everyone's all upset about," Marana said. "Human physiology would reject one of our embryos, so if you just wait awhile, her body will pass it."

"It's not one of our embryos," Malik said. "It's her own reproductive cells mixed with ours, and it already implanted. She has our cells in her blood."

"They tried to crossbreed her?" Marana exclaimed in astonishment. "Amateurs!" she added in disgust. "I hate amateurs."

"I guess our people just aren't as experienced at being monsters as yours are," the girl's mother said acidly.

"Why is this a problem?" the girl's father broke in as Marana and his wife glared at each other. "Didn't you already create 'hybrids' with your royalty?"

"A hybrid is a complicated life form that involves a lot more than just throwing the ingredients together and wishing hard," Marana said impatiently. "You need a binding agent, something that functions as a bridge between the cells to make them play nice together. Without that, the mother's and the baby's cells will view each other as invading infectious agents and respond accordingly."

"Which means....what?" the soldier asked, still hunched protectively over the female.

"It means that her own immune system will eventually kill her," Marana said.

"So what do we do?" Malik asked as the soldier's eyes widened in horror. "How do we stop it?"

"The only thing you can do is stop the pregnancy," Marana answered. "But that might not be enough. Stopping the pregnancy will prevent more of our cells from entering her bloodstream, but it won't do anything about those already there. Her body will still attack those, and the resulting war could still kill her."

"Then how do we get those cells out of her blood?" the human soldier demanded.

"You can't," Marana said. "Not with your current level of technology. And I can't either because I don't have the right equipment."

"There must be a way!" the soldier insisted. "Give her some of my blood, or....or...."

"Or take her to one of your 'hospitals' where they'll discover she has alien cells in her body, not to mention whatever she's carrying?" Marana interrupted. "She'll die there too, just for different reasons."

"We have a healing stone," the girl's father said. "What about that?"

"Those don't work on humans," Marana announced.

The girl's mother smiled. "Yes, they do."

"No, they don't," Marana countered.

"Oh, yes they do," the woman insisted.

"Refresh my memory—which one of us is the bioscientist?" Marana demanded.

"Emily's right," the girl's father broke in. "Brivari healed our daughter with a healing stone when she had a fractured skull and a broken arm. One of the other Warders said that he was the only one of them who could have done that."

Marana stared at them, thunderstruck. "Brivari used a healing stone on a human?"

"Didn't you know he could do that?" Malik asked.

"No! Well....we suspected that might happen, but....oh my," she finished, still flabbergasted. "That's incredible!"

" 'Oh my', indeed," the woman said dryly. "Didn't you know what you were making? One would think you just threw the ingredients together and wished hard."

"It doesn't matter what Brivari can do," Marana retorted. "He's not here, so that's that."

"Do you know how to contact him?" Malik asked the soldier.

"No," the soldier said, staring at the female as though afraid she'd die any minute. "He always finds me. Or her," he added. "We wouldn't see him again until tomorrow, and I doubt she has that long."

"We can at least stop the pregnancy," Malik said. "That might slow things down enough to make a difference. How do we do that?" he asked Marana.

Marana looked at the girl's mother. "You tell me."

"Tell you what?" the woman demanded.

"Every species has a way of getting rid of unwanted offspring before birth," Marana said. "How do humans do it? Oh, don't look at me like that!" she snapped when the woman recoiled in disgust. "I know you're not that naïve! How do they do it?"

"They....they puncture the sac surrounding the baby," the woman said uncomfortably. "With something sharp, like....like a coat hanger."

"Suitably primitive," Marana sniffed. "And where would I find a 'coat hanger'?"

The woman glared at her, but she headed out of the room, motioning Marana to follow. Just before she left, she saw the girl's father approach Malik.

"I told you I didn't know where Brivari is," she heard him say to Malik, "and I don't. But I do have an idea."



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


Mescalero Indian Reservation




"Are you going to bed?" Quanah asked River Dog.

"Shortly," River Dog answered. "I'll turn the lights off."

"So," Quanah said, pausing in the kitchen doorway. "Was Grey Wolf right about you courting Nalin?"

"Father!" River Dog protested. "I already have him teasing me; I don't need you joining in."

"I'm not teasing," Quanah said gently. "I'm asking my eldest son if he intends to take a wife. For what it's worth, I think she would make a good match."

River Dog studied him a moment, as through trying to determine whether or not he was serious. "Do you really think so?"

"I do," Quanah nodded.

"So do I," River Dog said, breaking into a rare, wide smile.

A knock sounded on the front door, low but insistent. "I'll get that," River Dog said. "Itza-chu probably left his pipe. Good night, father."

"Good night," Quanah nodded, heading for his bedroom, slipping into bed beside his sleeping wife. He was just sinking into the pillow and already half asleep when River Dog appeared in the doorway.

"Father?"

Sighing, Quanah propped himself up in bed. "Is something wrong?"

"There is a strange white man at the door," River Dog whispered, "with an even stranger question."

Wide awake now, Quanah pulled on some trousers and hurried to the front door, where he found a young man wearing an intense, worried expression. "I'm sorry to bother you so late," the man said, "but I'm looking for someone, and others in the village said you might be able to help me."

"Looking for whom?" Quanah asked.

"Someone who would be a stranger to you," the man answered. "I need to find him quickly; it's a matter of life or death. Have you seen any strangers around your village?"

Quanah felt River Dog stiffen behind him, resisted the to urge to glance at his son. "No," he answered. "I have not."

"Are you certain?" the man pressed.

"Any strangers here would be noticed immediately," Quanah said. "I am certain."

"What about the woods?" the man continued. "Have you seen anyone or anything strange in the woods?"

"No," Quanah said firmly. "I'm afraid whoever you seek is not here. I'm sorry."

The man jammed his hands in his pockets, obviously disappointed. "I see. Well....thank you. Good night."

"Good night," Quanah said, closing the door and watching through the window as the man walked away.

"The others did not tell," River Dog whispered.

"Of course not," Quanah answered quietly. "They sent him here for us to decide."

"I will go," River Dog declared.

"No," Quanah said. "I will go. Do not argue with me," he continued as River Dog began to do just that. "I do not want you out there alone with whatever just came to our door. Stay here with the family, lock all the doors, and keep the rifle handy. And—this is very important—don't open that door for anyone unless they give the signal. No matter who they look like."

"Yes, father," River Dog said. "Good luck."

Fifteen minutes later, after a circuit of the village which revealed nothing amiss, Quanah slipped silently into the gloom of the forest. He did not know if the man he had just seen was another skinwalker or Nasedo's betrayer, but either way, he was dangerous.



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

I'll post Chapter 124 next Sunday.

Chapter 122 fb:

LOL! I guess a soldier on Emily's porch calling for Malik wasn't really what she was expecting! That does have a sense of the bizarre to it, given what she knows and doesn't know!

I thought Quanah asked all the right questions and was pretty insightful. But I'm a bit surprised, though not too much, I guess, that Brivari presented his dilemma to them openly and actually asked for their advice.

"I would ask advice from both of you," Brivari said.

Quanah merely looked interested at this announcement, but Itza-chu sat forward eagerly in his chair. "What sort of advice?" he asked.

"One who once betrayed me now seeks to help me," Brivari said, "and I am uncertain as to whether or not I should trust him."

"That is a difficulty," Quanah agreed. "If he was willing to betray you once, he could do so again. Does he now say he was wrong to betray you?"

"No," Brivari admitted. "He claims he had good reasons for doing so which remain valid even now."

"Then he is honest," Quanah said thoughtfully. "A liar would have plied you with apologies."

"Do you feel his reasons are valid?" Itza-chu asked, coming right to the heart of the problem, as usual.

Brivari hesitated. "I have reason to believe they may be."

"A traitor with credibility presents an even greater problem," Quanah allowed.

"What of this man's actions?" Itza-chu asked. "Words are cheap; deeds are not. What do his deeds tell you?"

"He has warned me of approaching trouble many times, despite my hostility toward him," Brivari answered.

"At a risk to himself?" Itza-chu questioned.

"Possibly, if he were discovered," Brivari said.

And regarding Yvonne, I'm with Spade. Now would be a perfect time for an honest answer... before Brisson gets turned inside out.

Spade stared at Brisson in shock, Thompson's equally astonished face visible over Brisson's left shoulder. "Pierce?" he whispered, rage constricting his throat. "What did he do to her? What did that bastard do to her?"

"I told you, I don't have time for explanations!" Brisson repeated impatiently.

"What did he do to her?" Spade shouted.

"Captain, please!" Brisson begged. "There's no time! I have to—"

Slam! A moment later, Brisson was up against the wall with Spade's hands around his throat as Thompson watched, wide-eyed, only inches away.

"Make time!" Spade roared.

The answer must have been a REAL shocker to Spade and Thompson!

Great chapter!

Chapter 123 fb:

Well, I have to give Spade kudos for finesse. (or not!) He definitely gets his message across, doesn't he! Under the circumstances, I like his style!

A moment later the eyes had returned to normal as Brisson sagged against Spade, perversely grateful that he was there to support him. "So now you get it," Spade said softly in his ear. "Yes, this is an alien. Yes, he is a friend. And just in case you haven't practiced your deductive reasoning lately, yes, that means I have a friend who is an alien. He's here to figure out what's wrong with Lieutenant White, and you're going to help him. Because if you don't, I'm going to break every single bone in your body. Have I made myself clear?"

And no, I don't think Yvonne will have any trouble signing herself out!

The rest of his sentence caught in his throat as Brisson looked straight ahead in shock. To his left, unconscious on the exam table and bundled in a blanket, was Lieutenant White. A few feet away from her stood.....Lieutenant White. Or rather, a perfect copy of Lieutenant White, right down to the uniform she was wearing, those dark brown eyes, and that ever-so-slightly crooked front tooth he found so endearing.

"Don't worry, Sergeant," the fake Yvonne said in a perfect Yvonne voice. "The lieutenant shouldn't have any problem signing herself out."

So! Emily discovers an inconvenient truth... that there are "monsters" on both sides. Well, not that she didn't know it already, of course, but she was allowing herself to condemn the aliens on that basis, and now her own species has just reared its ugly side right in her face in a way that she can't escape or ignore.

"He tried to impregnate her with alien cells," Malik finished, as Emily drew back in horror. "And he succeeded, I'm sorry to say. She needs Marana's help." He closed the door and came around the front end of the car. "I know you don't want Marana and me here, Mrs. Proctor, and I know why. But this woman is both human and innocent, I'm certain she'll die if we don't intervene, and we can't let the doctor who did this to her know that he was successful. May we bring her inside?"

And Emily has a good memory for snipes... and can throw them back:

"Didn't you know he could do that?" Malik asked.

"No! Well....we suspected that might happen, but....oh my," she finished, still flabbergasted. "That's incredible!"

" 'Oh my', indeed," the woman said dryly. "Didn't you know what you were making? One would think you just threw the ingredients together and wished hard."

Actually, I'm a little surprised at Marana's flippant attitude given that Malik saved her life and she knows now that Orlon is a traitor. I suspect it has a bit to do with the frosty atmosphere that has existed between her and Emily... and a bit to do with her new dilemma and indecisions.

Great chapter!

Hi Gerry!

Island Breeze wrote: So! Emily discovers an inconvenient truth... that there are "monsters" on both sides. Well, not that she didn't know it already, of course, but she was allowing herself to condemn the aliens on that basis, and now her own species has just reared its ugly side right in her face in a way that she can't escape or ignore.

Exactly. Her position is much less tenable now. Not that she can't make a case that the aliens were wrong, but her rigidity is going to be much harder to maintain. Brivari has already used that stolen human brain tissue to heal her own daughter, but that happened 3 years ago and she only learned of it in retrospect, so perhaps she's able to ignore that. But if he shows up and heals Yvonne using that same stolen brain tissue....well.....I think Emily's going to be hard-pressed to argue that humanity hasn't gotten something back for what was taken.

Island Breeze wrote: But I'm a bit surprised, though not too much, I guess, that Brivari presented his dilemma to them openly and actually asked for their advice.

Brivari is used to being surrounded by people he can consult, and unlike Jaddo, he's also the type to make enduring friendships, like his relationship with Valeris. Now he's essentially alone: Jaddo is, for all practical purposes, unreachable, the other two Warders are dead, David isn't available. He really only has Spade, and while Spade is an ally, he's not on the same level as Quanah as far as Brivari is concerned. Spade has a temper (you noticed that ), and Spade is very willing to probe for answers and fight back if he feels Brivari is wrong, while Quanah does much less probing and fighting, and far more accepting. At the moment, Quanah is the closest to being a friend and confidante. And while Itza-chu isn't a friend, he's no fool, and Brivari knows that. Itza-chu's naturally suspicious nature might make him a good person to consult.







CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FOUR



June 6, 1950, 11:30 p.m.

Mescalero Indian Reservation



Moonlight filtered through the trees as Malik walked the woods, his footsteps crunching loudly on the forest floor. He'd been out here for a while now, wandering aimlessly, in plain view and with no attempt at stealth. There was no need. The forest was too big to canvass alone, so if Brivari was here, the way to find him was not to search, but to make oneself available to be found.

When Malik had first approached the woods to which David Proctor had directed him, he had seen immediately what an advantage they conveyed. The forest was large and dense, the canopy easily blocking an infrared signature from any Covari beneath it. Add to that the caves David said were here, and that made for one excellent hiding place. Mindful of Brivari's tendency to make allies, Malik had gone to the nearby village to ask some questions and had been surprised to find an unfamiliar branch of the human race, with a language and customs strange to him. Inquiries as to strangers in the area had met with stony silence until someone had pointed toward one house, the occupant of which had denied the presence of strangers. Either the people of the village were genuinely unaware of Brivari's presence here or they were protecting him, a distinct possibility. A short while later, when the man Malik had spoken to made a careful check of his village and headed into the woods, Malik had his answer: Not only was the village aware of Brivari, they knew enough to expect danger in his wake. This was the place where Brivari had hid so successfully for so long, and very likely the place where he'd taken down the hunters.

Malik's attempt to follow the man into the woods had taught him just how difficult it was to track someone in the forest. He'd lost the trail early on, this particular branch of humanity being almost as silent and elusive as Covari, and taken to wandering the forest in the hopes that Brivari would show himself. That was assuming he was here at the moment; he could be anywhere, and that thought tugged at Malik as more and more time passed. Even if Marana managed to remove the crossbred fetus from The Healer, the odds that she would die anyway remained high. Perhaps it was time to abandon this place and return to the base in the hopes of finding Brivari there. Of course he might also find Orlon and Amar there, but that couldn't be helped. He wound his way northward, heading back for the edge of the forest and the village beyond, only to come to a dead halt at the edge of a small clearing.

Brivari stood on the other side, wearing the same shape he'd worn the night he'd tried to kill Malik and Amar, and had very nearly succeeded. The last time Malik had seen Brivari, Spade had been there as well, not to mention a military base full of humans Brivari would not have wished to alert. Now he was alone in a dark forest with a no doubt angry Warder and no one for miles. Not a pleasant thought, and Malik braced himself for the opening salvo, desperately hoping that Brivari would be too curious to kill him immediately, before he'd had a chance to deliver his message.

"I wish to make certain I understand this correctly," Brivari said, sounding puzzled rather than angry. "First you run from the King, then you betray the King by working for his enemy, and now you are dismayed that this enemy's lackey has proven unfaithful, something I could have predicted with absolute certainty. And for some odd reason, you think this downward spiral of events gives you leave to approach me even after the message you sent received no answer." He paused. "You never learn, do you Malik?"

"I said it was life or death!" Malik objected. "Doesn't that give me 'leave'—"

"You consider me interested in your survival?" Brivari interrupted. "On the contrary, I'd be delighted if Orlon saved me the trouble of dispensing with you. It would be the least he could do to—"

"Lieutenant White is gravely ill," Malik broke in. "She's at the Proctor's house with Captain Spade; Marana's doing what she can, but she needs your help. Or more precisely, a healing stone's help, something we're told you can provide."

Brivari regarded him in silence for such a long time that Malik began to sweat. Overhead, a breeze ruffled the trees, their branches creaking as though distressed at what was happening below. "Incredible," Brivari said at length, shaking his head sadly. "And to think that I had hoped.....but no matter." He began walking slowly toward Malik, who had all he could do to resist the urge to back up. "You won't live long enough to profit from this advice, but when constructing a lie, the immediate goal is plausibility."

"I'm not lying!" Malik objected.

"You expect me to believe that the Proctors allowed you and Marana into their house?"

"Not willingly," Malik said impatiently. "Mrs. Proctor didn't want to, but her husband and daughter overruled her because we were injured. I know she kicked you out, but she let us bring Lieutenant White there, and I'm certain she'll let you in to help her."

"There's that plausibility problem again," Brivari said, continuing his leisurely, almost languid progression forward, like one of Earth's large cats toying with its prey. "The Healer is fine. I saw her earlier today. Didn't you do any research before concocting your story?"

"But you didn't see her tonight!" Malik insisted. "Pierce is trying to breed her, and she is gravely ill!"

"Pierce is playing with cell clusters in his laboratory," Brivari said sharply. "That has nothing to do with The Healer."

"Are you sure of that?" Malik demanded, noting that Brivari had now covered more than half the distance between them. "How long has it been since you had free run of the compound? Two years? More? You know Pierce—has it not occurred to you that he might have moved on from mere cell clusters to more lofty goals without you knowing about it?"

Brivari stopped. "Very well then," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Out of sheer curiosity, I'll play along. Tell me, what exactly has Pierce been up to in my absence?"

"Humans lack our incubation technology, but Pierce managed to find an incubator anyway," Malik answered, choosing his words carefully because he wasn't certain how many he'd be allowed to speak. "He's impregnated her with our cells; she's carrying a hybrid embryo."

Brivari's eyes went hard. "Another lie," he said coldly. "Did you think I didn't know that a binding agent is needed to combine human and Antarian cells?"

"Marana says they combine without assistance in the early stages," Malik argued, "which means the lieutenant is carrying a hybrid which will live just long enough to kill her if we don't intervene!"

" 'We'?" Brivari retorted with such malice that Malik flinched. "The time has long since passed when you could refer to the both of us in the plural. Where are the others, Malik? Are they waiting enroute to the Proctors? Is this how you plan to get back in Orlon's good graces, by delivering me on a platter? If you—"

Something snapped in Malik at this diatribe, and he strode forward, closing the distance between him and Brivari in a few short steps. "Don't you get it?" he demanded angrily as Brivari's eyebrows rose. "This isn't about me, and amazingly enough, it isn't about you either—it's about Jaddo! You know the Argilians are coming; you know what will happen to Jaddo if he's still captive when they get here. How could you be so willing to throw away one of the few allies you have on the base? Someone who's done so much for you that she's earned the protection of the King's Warder even without an impending crisis? You owe her!"

"A moving speech," Brivari said softly, his face only inches away from Malik's. "But then traitors are noted for producing moving speeches."

"I don't care what you think of me," Malik said angrily, "and I offer no apologies for running. I did what I had to do to stay alive, and I'd do it again if I had to. If you've learned nothing else about me, you should have learned that I want to live, and since seeking you out all by myself is a lousy way to stay alive, that should tell you something, as should the fact that I found you at all. David Proctor told me you might be here. Do you really think he would have volunteered that information if he didn't have a damned good reason right in front of him? She's dying, Brivari, and if you don't stop it, you'll lose not only her, but Spade as well. And if that happens, you may as well gift wrap Jaddo and send him to Khivar as a birthday present!"

Malik stopped, panting. He's going to kill me, he thought as Brivari continued staring at him, unmoved. He'd known Brivari wouldn't trust him, but he'd thought the specter of Lieutenant White's death would at least induce him to double-check. After all he'd been through, he was going to die here, alone, his dust mixing with the leaves on the forest floor. Two years of trying to balance the forces that competed for his world had failed, just as Spade had predicted. And also just as Spade had predicted, no one trusted him: Not Brivari, not Marana, not Amar, not the Proctors, not even Spade. His efforts to be friends with everyone had made enemies of them all.

Brivari's hand twitched at his side, then rose, and Malik braced himself. The corpses he'd seen with silver handprints had burned alive from the inside, and........

.....and suddenly he was flying backwards as though something huge had rammed into him. He collided with a tree, his head smacking into its trunk. Wind blew the treetops aside for a moment as he slid to the forest floor, and the last thing he saw before everything went black was Earth's lonely moon amid a canopy of stars.



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


Proctor residence



"I'm ready to start," Marana said from her position at the end of the bed. "You can leave now."

"Go ahead and start," the girl's mother answered from further up the bed, the pregnant female's head resting in her lap. "I'm not going anywhere."

Marana looked at her skeptically. "She's still unconscious, and she's likely to stay that way, for the near future at least. It's not necessary for you to stay."

"There is no way I'm leaving her alone with you," the woman said flatly.

"This is going to get messy," Marana persisted.

"Believe me, I've seen 'messy'," the woman said, a touch of bitterness in her voice.

"Not like this, you haven't," Marana said.

"How would you know what I've seen?" the woman demanded. "I saw my husband's brother after he'd put a gun in his mouth and pulled the trigger. Does that qualify as 'messy'?"

Marana stared at her in shock for a moment before dropping her eyes. "It certainly does," she said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"Like hell you are," the woman said sharply. "Now stop chattering, and do what needs doing."

Wordlessly, Marana reached for the "coat hanger"; a minute later the woman wrinkled her nose as the first of the amniotic fluid began to drain. Not having a sense of smell had its advantages. "It may take some time for her to pass the embryo," Marana said. "We could be here for awhile."

The woman nodded silently, stroking the pregnant female's hair as though she were a child. She'll sit here all night if she has to, Marana realized, once again fighting a wave of reluctant admiration. For all her hostility, the girl's mother had proven useful, producing sheets, rags, an assortment of bowls, and "alcohol" to sterilize the "coat hanger", all without prompting. She'd also convinced her husband to steer the hovering soldier downstairs, something for which Marana was secretly grateful, having found men of any species typically unhelpful in medical situations. Malik had gone in search of Brivari, the wisdom of which Marana found debatable.

"So where's your daughter?" Marana asked.

"Asleep, thank God," the woman answered, "and hopefully she'll stay that way until we're finished."

"Oh, of course," Marana said with a touch of sarcasm. "I imagine you'd rather not have to explain that there are 'monsters' in her world too."

"That's nothing," the woman retorted. "Imagine having to explain the irony of one monster thwarting the work of another."

Marana's head snapped up, all traces of sympathy or admiration evaporating. "You needn't work with a 'monster' if you don't want to," she said acidly. "If you'd rather take this female to one of your so-called 'medical facilities', you'll get no argument from me."

After several seconds of mutually caustic glares, the woman looked away. "At the moment," she said stiffly, "you represent the lesser of several evils."

"Why, Mrs. Proctor," Marana said coldly. "I do believe that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

Silence. Both avoided each other's gaze as the fluids continued to trickle out, with no sign of the embryo. Several minutes passed before Marana spoke again.

"I hear you decided Brivari couldn't come back."

"Who told you that?" the woman demanded.

"Your daughter."

"My daughter was talking to you?"

"Your daughter talks to everyone," Marana observed dryly. "So how did you manage it?"

"Manage what?"

"How did you manage to convince Brivari not to come back?"

"The same way I'll 'convince' you when the time comes," the woman said flatly. "I'll tell you to get out, and I'll mean it."

"And when you told him this, he just....left?" Marana asked, surprised that Brivari, of all people, would obey a mandate from this woman, or that he hadn't simply killed her when she'd withdrawn her support. "Where I come from, no one but the king would dream of telling the King's Warder what he can or cannot do."

"In case you haven't noticed, this isn't 'where you come from'," the woman said.

Marana's eyes flicked up. "Oh, believe me, I've noticed."

The female's body began to convulse, and the woman looked down in alarm. "What's happening?"

"She's passing the embryo," Marana replied, using one of the bowls to collect the unfortunate remnants of the first human attempt at cross-species breeding. "Now we just have to hope that she doesn't lose too much blood."

"I want to see it," the woman announced.

"See what?"

"The baby. I want to see it."

" 'Baby'?" Marana echoed. "Mrs. Proctor, I can assure you that this is not a baby—"

"I don't care what you call it; I want to see it."

"What for?" Marana asked.

"I need a reason?"

"I—" Marana stopped, sighing in exasperation. "Fine. Amuse yourself."

The woman promptly tucked a pillow beneath the female's head and moved to the foot of the bed to inspect the clump of tissue the female had just passed. Not content with passive visual inspection, she took the coat hanger and used it to slice open the clump, revealing the embryo inside. Initially trying to ignore her, Marana found herself watching in horrified fascination, her own world having moved to a much more controlled process of cross-breeding so long ago that she had never seen the results of such a crude process. And those results were no different than expected: The embryo was clearly the end product of gene warfare, as two competing sets of genes fought for dominance with neither completely successful.

"Why is it so big?" the woman asked. "The Captain said she'd been pregnant only a little more than two weeks."

"The gestation period for infant birth is much shorter on my world," Marana answered, "only a little more than one of your months."

"Do they look like this?"

"Hardly," Marana said, eyeing the misshapen limbs, the too small eyes, and the twisted spine.

"The others looked human," the woman murmured.

The others.... "Do you mean....do you mean the hybrids? You saw them?" Marana demanded when the woman nodded. "You saw the hybrids of the king and his family?"

"They didn't look like a 'king and his family'," the woman noted, "or anything like this, either. They looked completely human. Except for those glowing dots that showed up on one of their foreheads for a few seconds, that is."

Marana felt her throat constrict. Dots.....The mark, she thought as her heart began to race. So Brivari had told Khivar the truth—one of the Zan hybrids had formed the mark, the mechanism by which he could own any Covari left alive when he became capable of using it....or by which anyone could own Covari if they managed to take it. If Zan never reappeared, a new mark would be forged for whoever took the throne, but only Zan's mark, the one his father had created and encoded Covari genes to respond to, could be used to command them. Whoever controlled that controlled all Covari.

"Will this turn to dust like your people do?" the woman was asking.

Marana pulled herself back to the present. "I....no, I don't think so. Only some of its genes are programmed to disintegrate, so it may partially collapse, but not completely."

"Then I'm going to bury it," the woman said briskly.

"Bury it?"

"Yes, bury it," the woman repeated, wrapping the bowl in a towel. "No one can find this. If anyone gets wind of it, they'll try again."

"They'll try again anyway, Mrs. Proctor. This is the way it starts. And once it starts, it never stops."

"Maybe not," the woman allowed. "But that won't stop me doing my bit to slow it down."

But Marana barely heard her as she left the room with the embryo in tow, so lost was she in thought. The mark would not have developed immediately, so if the girl's mother had seen a Zan hybrid with the mark, that meant enough time had passed that they were probably already hidden when she'd seen it.

Which meant that Emily Proctor may know where the hybrids were.



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



"Have a drink?" David asked as he reached into the liquor cabinet.

"No, thanks," Spade said tightly.

"You sure? If there ever was a time for a drink, this is it."

When the only answer was silence, David turned to find Spade sitting tensely in one of the living room chairs, the fingers of one hand drumming on the armrest as the matching heel drummed on the floor, making him bear more of a resemblance to a tightly wound spring than a man. He poured two glasses of whiskey, put the bottle back in the cabinet, and set one of the glasses beside Spade, who ignored it.

"So you're a captain now," David said, making a stab at conversation. "Back in '47, you were just a private."

"Aliens are great for the career," Spade said absently, his fingers and heel never missing a beat.

"I didn't think you were going to let us go that night," David said.

"Your wife can be very persuasive," Spade answered.

"Is Jaddo still alive?" David asked, taking a seat nearby.

"He's rebuilding their ship," Spade answered, still drumming. Suddenly he stopped, and so did David's glass, halfway to his lips.

"She's not going to make it, is she?" Spade whispered.

"You don't know that," David said. "It's never over till it's over, especially with aliens."

"I should be up there with her," Spade said abruptly, vaulting out of his chair only to have David step in front of him.

"Sit down, Captain," David said firmly. "You can't give her what she needs right now."

"I don't trust that alien!" Spade exclaimed.

"My wife is with her," David said, stepping sideways as Spade tried to step around him. "Believe me, Emily is absolutely the right person to be up there right now. She'll let us know as soon as they're finished, and then you can go up."

"I should bring her to a hospital!" Spade said, trying to push David aside. "At least she'd be with her own people, and—"

"And that wouldn't help," David insisted, blocking the path to the stairs. "She needs an abortion, and I don't think I need to remind you that they're illegal."

"She could die!" Spade protested.

"She will die if you don't let them finish," David countered, grabbing Spade by the shoulders. "The fastest way to kill her is to bring her to a hospital where they won't end the pregnancy and whoever did this to her will get wind of it. Is that what you want?"

Spade wrenched himself away from David and lurched back into the living room, prowling like a caged animal. "Sit down and have a drink," David ordered. "It'll calm your nerves."

By way of answer, Spade picked up the tumbler of whiskey and flung it across the room where it smashed against the wall in a dozen pieces. The noise seemed to bring Spade back to his senses; he stared at the mess for a moment before throwing a guilty look in David's direction.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I just...."

"Captain, my 11 year-old daughter is sleeping upstairs, and I'd like her to stay that way," David said sternly. "Now sit down and have a drink, or at the very least, sit down and pipe down."

"Right. Sorry," Spade said faintly, sinking back into the chair he'd recently vacated and resuming his nervous drumming, though without the same ferocity. "It may all be for nothing anyway. That alien didn't seem to think she'd live even without the...'baby'. If Malik doesn't find Brivari, it's probably all over."

"Like I said before, it's not over," David answered gently, sitting down across from him. "And panicking isn't going to help."

"Why does Malik have to 'find' Brivari anyway?" Spade asked. "I thought he stayed with you. Why isn't he here? And why is your wife so mad at that alien upstairs? What did she mean when she said 'what you did to those children'?"

David looked down at his drink. "This really isn't the best time to get into that."

"This is the perfect time to get into that," Spade countered. "You can't expect me to sit here quietly when it's obvious that your wife is upstairs because she doesn't trust that alien either. Why not? I have a right to know!"

"I agree," David said, "but not now."

"Why not now?" Spade demanded. He sat forward in his chair, staring intently at David. "Do I have to start throwing things again?"

David sighed and took a sip of his drink. This was a very bad time to get into all this. What if Spade had the same reaction as Emily, and just when he needed the aliens the most? "If I answer your question, you'll have to promise me that it won't influence your willingness to let Brivari and the rest of them help your friend upstairs. After she's better, you can do whatever you want, but without them, she won't make it."

Spade's eyes widened, but he nodded mutely. David balanced his glass on his knee and tried to decided where to begin.

"Brivari's people have been here before," he began. "They've been coming here for several years to experiment on our people."

" 'Experiment'?" Spade echoed. "So that business about the crash being an accident was just a lie?"

"No. Their ship did crash accidentally, but that it crashed on this planet was no accident. They were headed here deliberately."

"To hide the clones, or whatever, of their royalty who died in the war," Spade said. "I know that."

"Right. But their people had been here before for the purpose of experimentation. Supposedly that stopped several years ago."

"Let me guess," Spade said. "This has something to do with our brains, doesn't it?"

"You know about this?" David asked.

"Walker was right," Spade said sourly. "Of all the times that asshole had to be right, why did it have to be this one?"

"Excuse me?"

Spade shook his head. "Never mind. Go on."

"Well....I'm told that all the wonderful things Brivari and the others can do came from our brains, not theirs."

"What?"

"Look, I don't really understand this," David said, "but it seems that we humans are a lot more talented than we know. Except for shapeshifting, most of what the aliens can do comes from what they learned from their experiments on human children."

"Children?"

"Yeah," David said heavily. "As if it wasn't bad enough, that just makes it worse. They claim they grew human brain tissue and somehow grafted that onto the brains of the Warders, and that's what gives them all of their special powers. I know it sounds crazy," he admitted."

"Actually, it doesn't," Spade said. "Actually, it fits with every other crazy thing I've heard tonight."

"Like what?"

"Like how they found what looked like human brain tissue inside the aliens that died. And how that gave Dr. Pierce the idea that we might be related, or compatible, and that's why he tried to get Yvonne pregnant with....well, whatever he tried to get her pregnant with. So how many people did they kill?"

"Supposedly none. Supposedly their science is good enough that they didn't have to."

"Do you believe that?"

"I know one of them isn't dead," David said, "because I met him."

"You met one of their test subjects?"

"The only one who ever woke up, to hear Brivari tell it," David said. "He said they used some kind of inhaled sedative that smelled—"

"Sweet," Spade finished. "I know. Malik's former buddy used it on Yvonne when he infiltrated the compound looking like a dog."

"A dog?"

"Long story," Spade said. "So is this guy all right?"

"Physically? Yes. Mentally? Maybe now he is. I certainly hope so. He was up here looking for some answers about the ones who took him, and then he went home and got married. Says he's done looking."

"Who told you about all this?" Spade asked.

"Malik's old boss, Orlon."

"Orlon?" Spade echoed. "The one who double-crossed Malik and tried to kill him? I wouldn't believe anything he said."

"Neither would I," David agreed. "But Brivari confirmed it. And that's when my wife told him to leave."

Spade was quiet for a moment before rising from the chair, gazing out the window, his hands laced behind his head. "If you'd told me this yesterday, I would have been horrified. And angry, and indignant, and everything that goes with that. But now....now I'm not." He paused. "Why not?"

"Because the aliens don't have a monopoly on this kind of behavior," David replied, glancing at the stairs. "As if the war didn't teach us that already."

"And because they didn't have a choice anyway," Spade added. "They had to obey."

"Obey what?"

"A direct order from the king," Spade said. "All the shapeshifters have been changed somehow so they can't kill the king and they have to obey his direct orders. That's why Malik and the rest of that group ran away in the first place. Supposedly the king was ordering people to the labs to get rid of them."

David, who had finished his whiskey and was seriously contemplating a second, looked at Spade in amazement. "Does Brivari know that's why Malik ran?"

"Malik told him," Spade confirmed. "I was there. But I don't think Brivari believed it."

"Good Lord," David said, slowly shaking his head. "Captain, you and I seriously need to compare notes. I didn't know anything about this. What—"

But Spade wasn't listening; he was looking intently out the window, and a moment later, he was bolting for the front door. "What is it?" David asked in alarm. "Is it the Army? Have they found her?" Spade ignored him, throwing open the front door to reveal an unfamiliar man in civilian clothes standing on the front porch. Unfamiliar to David....but not to Spade.

"Brivari!" Spade exclaimed in relief. "Boy, am I glad to see you!"

For a moment, David was confused; then the man's face changed, his features melting into the face Brivari had worn the last time they'd seen him. He must look different wherever he goes, David thought. He glanced at Spade, wondering if he'd object to what was to him a new face, but Spade must be accustomed to change because he didn't appear to notice or care that Brivari looked different now. "What are you waiting for?" Spade demanded. "Come in! Yvonne's upstairs, and she's in bad shape."

But Brivari wasn't looking at Spade; he was looking past him, toward David. "Do I have leave to enter your house?" he asked.

David was about to answer when he realized that Brivari wasn't looking at him either. He was looking past both of them, and when David turned around, he found Emily standing halfway down the stairs, holding a bowl covered with a towel and staring in shock at the man in the doorway.

"Emily Proctor," Brivari clarified, "do I have leave to enter your house?"



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

I'll post Chapter 125 next Sunday.

Hello to everyone reading!







CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-FIVE


June 7, 1950, 12:30 a.m.

Proctor residence



Emily stood awkwardly in the middle of the staircase as the group at the bottom of the stairs stared up at her. Why now, she thought wearily as Brivari's unanswered question lingered in the air. After throwing him out months ago, after all the drama with Dee about why she'd done that, the universe's twisted sense of humor had decided that the next time they met, she'd be holding the evidence that her own people behaved every bit as badly as his. There was probably some kind of poetic justice in that, but at the moment, she was too tired, too upset, and too embarrassed to appreciate it.

"Emily?" David prompted.

"I...of course," Emily said self-consciously, feeling like, at best, a hypocrite, at worst, a fool. "Of course you can come in."

Brivari stepped inside, David closed the door, and Spade immediately started babbling. "It's Yvonne," he said urgently. "Pierce got her pregnant with some kind of—"

"I heard," Brivari interrupted, looking not at Spade, but at Emily, or rather, at what she was holding. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Yes," Emily whispered.

Brivari walked to the foot of the stairs. "Show me."

Emily hesitated a moment before descending to the last step and pulling the towel off the bowl, carefully looking elsewhere. David did the same, while Spade glanced briefly at the contents before turning away in disgust. "Pierce has come a long way from those early cell cultures," Brivari commented, unaffected by the sight of the pathetic creature in the bowl. "Under different circumstances, I'd be impressed."

"You knew he was doing this?" Spade demanded.

"I knew he was toying with our reproductive cells in his laboratory only weeks after I escaped," Brivari answered. "But I had no idea he'd come this far, and he mustn't ever know either. Where is The Healer?"

"Upstairs," Emily answered, "in the guest room. The scientist said this wouldn't turn to dust like your people do," she added, starting to recover the bowl, "so I'll dispose of—"

She stopped in mid-sentence as Brivari raised his hand and held it over the bowl; seconds later, the contents were a pile of gray dust. "Come with me," he said, heading up the stairs. "I will need both you and your daughter to wield a healing stone."

"No," Emily said firmly, lowering her voice as they neared the top of the stairs and Dee's bedroom. "She's already exhausted from healing the other two this morning, and she's still asleep. Whatever we do, we do it without her."

Brivari acknowledged this stricture with a nod, passing Dee's bedroom on his way to the guest room with the rest of them on his heels. As they neared the doorway, it dawned on Emily that she had gone and done exactly what she'd said she wouldn't do—left the nurse alone with the alien scientist. But the scientist was asleep, her head tipped at an odd angle in the rocking chair, and the nurse was still unconscious on the bed, although a good deal paler now than earlier. Spade went to her immediately, stroking her hair and murmuring in her ear, but Brivari's eyes were on the scientist.

"Get up," he ordered harshly.

The scientist's eyes flew open, then widened in shock. For all that Emily couldn't stand this woman, she felt a stab of pity as the scientist scrambled up and behind the chair, placing it protectively between herself and Brivari. She looked absolutely terrified.

"What is her condition?" Brivari demanded.

The scientist said nothing, her eyes darting from one occupant of the room to another. "Answer me!" Brivari hissed, taking a step closer as the scientist backed up, pulling the chair with her.

"She....she's lost a lot of blood," the scientist stammered. "I removed the fetus, but that won't be enough. Where's Malik? Did you kill him?"

"I haven't killed you, have I?" Brivari said coldly. "Yet."

"Then where is he?" the scientist persisted.

"Being dealt with," Brivari said flatly. "Resume your seat. You will assist with the healing."

"I can't heal!" the scientist protested. "I'm only barely healed myself! Orlon nearly killed—"

Brivari advanced on her so quickly that she backed up all the way to the wall. "You will do as you are told," he said menacingly, "or I will have no further need of you."

"Hold on a minute!" Emily objected. "She was badly injured just this morning."

"Healing a human takes a great deal of energy because they cannot assist in the process," Brivari said. "When I healed your daughter, I had all three of my fellow Warders with me. The Healer's condition is far more serious; you and I will not be able to manage alone. Shall we wake your daughter, Emily Proctor?"

Emily looked back and forth from Brivari to the scientist before dropping her eyes. "No. It's just that...well, she was injured, and she did help us."

"Don't waste your sympathy on traitors," Brivari advised.

"I'm no traitor," the scientist said, her voice shaking either from anger, or fear, or both. "I had no idea what was going on. The palace was overrun, the Royal Family disappeared, and the only way to stay alive was to serve Khivar, or to at least appear to."

"Aren't we getting off the subject?" Spade said impatiently. "Yvonne's dying! Settle your politics later, for God's sake!"

"Quite right, Captain," Brivari said softly. He wrenched the chair out of the scientist's hands and moved it close to the bed. "Sit," he ordered.

Haltingly, the scientist obeyed, her eyes wide with fright as she passed Brivari, sinking into the chair unsteadily when she reached it. Ironic, Emily thought as another wave of pity overtook her. Here she'd been so angry with this woman that she hadn't even wanted to give her sanctuary, and now she was feeling sorry for her. Emily knew from personal experience how much those stones could pull out of you, and the scientist had little to give.

"Do you still have your weapon?" Brivari asked David as he handed healing stones to Emily and the scientist, who took it with trembling hands.

"Yes," David answered. "Why?"

"You will stand guard," Brivari said, nodding toward the scientist. "If she attempts to flee, kill her."



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



5:30 a.m.



"Captain? Captain, wake up."

The voice was faint and far away, and Spade had just decided to ignore it when he felt himself being gently shaken. He tried to move, only to find that every muscle in his body objected, so he settled for opening his eyes. He found himself bent forward as he sat in a chair beside a bed, apparently having been sleeping on the bed's edge. Yvonne was directly in front of him, no longer on her back and pale as a ghost, but curled on her side in a natural position with the color back in her cheeks, looking merely asleep now instead of unconscious. "It worked," he whispered, delighted to see her move slightly as he stroked her hair.

"Captain?"

Slowly, Spade sat up. David Proctor was sitting on the bed beside him, and the room was very dark. "What time is it?" Spade asked.

"0530 hours," David answered. "I let you sleep as long as I dared, but I don't know what time your CO gets in."

"To hell with my CO," Spade said bitterly. "She's okay, right?" he added as Yvonne shifted in her sleep again.

"She's fine," David assured him. "She'll just be really tired for awhile. And as much as I'm sure you'd like to send your commanding officer to hell, you're still going to have to go back and do some storytelling if you don't want anyone to find out about this."

"Yeah, I know," Spade sighed, stretching his stiff arms and legs. "Where is everyone?"

"Asleep," David replied. "I'm the only one standing at the moment. Those really take the starch out of you." He nodded toward the bedside table and a small puddle of amber colored stones. Spade picked one up carefully, wondering if it would glow like it had before. But the stone just sat there looking like any other ordinary, innocuous rock. "They don't work for me, either," David commented. "Only my wife and daughter can use them."

"What are they, anyway?" Spade asked.

"Near as I can tell, a conduit for energy," David answered. "They seem to transfer energy from the one holding it to the one being healed."

"And then what?"

"And then the aliens apparently know how to use that energy to heal themselves," David said. "But humans don't, which is why it had to be Brivari. Supposedly, he's the only one who can heal a human with the stones."

"Let me guess," Spade said. "That's because of that human brain tissue and all those kids they experimented on."

"Yeah," David admitted.

Spade was quiet for a moment. "You know, I wasn't sure your wife was going to let Brivari in last night."

"I was," David said. "She wasn't about to let this woman die just because she's mad at Brivari."

"She's also mad at her," Spade said, nodding toward the other side of the room. It was lighter now, the first bits of sunrise peeking through the curtains and illuminating something he'd missed before—the alien scientist slumped in the rocking chair with a blanket tucked around her, looking every bit as pale as Yvonne had been earlier. "Is she all right?" Spade asked.

"I think so," David said. "She was pretty banged up yesterday morning, and she didn't have much time to recover."

"Brivari was awfully nasty to her," Spade said, secretly grateful that he had been; it sounded like Yvonne wouldn't be in the better shape she was now in unless the scientist had been pressed into service.

"Well, she did try to kill him several times," David noted, "or at least help others try to kill him. Malik has been trying to protect the Warders ever since they got here."

"And Brivari hasn't been very nice to him either," Spade said. He paused, rubbing the back of his neck. "Do you think he killed him?"

David shook his head. "No. I don't think he can afford to lose a potential ally."

"So where is he?"

"Tell me, Captain, what would you have thought if you'd been Brivari last night, and Malik had approached you with the tale he had to tell?"

Spade hesitated a moment. "I'd think it was a trap. And given who was in trouble, I wouldn't be able to just assume it was a trap."

"Right. So you'd have to check it out, but it would be wise to waylay the messenger, don't you think?"

"Waylay him where?"

"Wherever Brivari went," David said. "He slept for awhile, and then he left just a few minutes ago. He didn't say where he was going, but he didn't really need to."




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



Mescalero Indian Reservation




Malik's eyelids fluttered open, his vision slowly adjusting to reveal a featureless gray wall. Where was he? His last memory was of lashing out at Brivari and then....stars. Stars? He turned his head slightly and winced as the back of his head reminded him of how he'd flown backwards and hit that tree. So Brivari had merely knocked him out, not killed him. But why? Did that mean he'd believed him and gone to help Lieutenant White? Bracing himself for the explosion of pain in his head, Malik pushed himself up on one elbow only to hear a click from very close by.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

The voice came from the corner of the tiny room in which Malik found himself. Early dawn light came from one small window which illuminated the speaker as he rose from his seat. It was the man Malik had spoken to last night, the one who had said he hadn't seen any strangers. He stood watching Malik curiously, the rifle he'd just cocked ready, but not pointed.

"Where am I?" Malik asked, his throat dry and scratchy.

"In my home," the man answered. "We met last night."

"Right," Malik said, grimacing as he lay carefully back down on the bed. "And you lied to me about not seeing any strangers."

The man smiled slightly. "Nasedo is no stranger to us."

" 'Nasedo'?"

"Our word for 'visitor', and the name chosen by the one you seek."

Accurate, Malik thought, although he wondered if these people knew just how accurate. "So you're supposed to warehouse me until he can kill me at his leisure?" Malik asked.

"Nasedo does not want you dead," the man answered. "A man who wants you dead does not carry you all the way back here from deep in the forest when he could just as easily have killed you out there, or left you for the wild animals to finish."

"He carried me back here?"

"And asked us to guard you until his return. I may not have known Nasedo as long as you have," the man continued, "but I have known him long enough to know that had he wanted you dead, we would not be having this conversation."

The man sounded like he considered this to be good news, but Malik knew better; it probably meant that Brivari wanted the honor of killing a traitor himself. But the fact that he had apparently not had the time to do so last night was encouraging; hopefully, he had returned to the Proctors and helped the lieutenant. "Did he say where he was going?" Malik asked.

"He did not," the man answered, his eyes rising to the door. "But you can ask him that yourself."

Carefully, Malik turned his head sideways; Brivari stood in the doorway, or what was probably Brivari, the human form he wore being unfamiliar. "Nasedo," the man said, nodding. "He has only just awakened."

"Good," Brivari said. "I would be alone with him."

"Of course." The man held out his rifle, but Brivari shook his head and the man left, throwing what appeared to be a sympathetic glance in Malik's direction. Brivari took up a position in the corner of the room, his expression inscrutable.

*Did she survive?* Malik asked.

*"She did,* Brivari answered shortly.

*And now you're here to finish the job,* Malik said, staring at the ceiling, surprised to find he didn't care. So much had happened, so much had gone wrong in just the last couple of days that he found himself unable to summon any energy to mount a defense or even care about what happened to him.

*I'm here to find out what you left out of the tale you told Spade about Orlon attacking you,* Brivari answered. *You obviously hold opinions about who should rule Antar and how, but Marana wouldn't care who Orlon supported as long as her own position was secure. What could possibly have happened to make her the least bit interested in Orlon's indiscretions?*

Malik sighed, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. *Marana was angry about the emergents.*

*Emergents?* Brivari echoed. *What emergents?*

*The emergents that were Khivar's payment to us for agreeing to work for him. Covari born from old genetic material, before Riall made all the changes you agreed to. Covari Zan could not command.*

*And Covari who could kill him,* Brivari noted coldly. *But then I imagine Khivar had already thought of that.*

*He hadn't gotten that far,* Malik answered. *They were intended to work for the Argilians here, on this planet, in the hopes of developing a workable shell for them or to take their place if such a thing proved impossible. As it turned out, we had the shell almost completed when you killed their scientist, long before the first emergent matured.*

*And where are these emergents?*

*All dead, I imagine,* Malik said bitterly. *They were dying one by one. Marana figured out that Orlon was poisoning them.*

*Of course he was. Khivar would have no further need of assassins, now would he?*

*They weren't assassins,* Malik said impatiently. *They were to help the Argilians gain access to the human genome that Zan had already begun to exploit, to provide a counterweight to the fact that our people had already given his father too much power.*

*Oh, is that what you think?* Brivari said, his voice heavy with irony. *Perhaps that's what they were to you, but to Khivar, they were assassins; nothing more, nothing less. I had no idea you were so naïve.*

*Yep, that's me,* Malik said sarcastically. *Naïve enough to turn down David Proctor's offer to come out here and find you himself because I could travel faster, find you faster, because of course you'd be interested in the fact that one of your staunchest allies was dying. It's a real tragedy that I'm so naïve.*

Brivari was silent as Malik closed his eyes, fuming. He'd accused Spade and all of humanity along with him of being naïve, of expecting and demanding the best of people who weren't likely to give it....and here he'd just done the same. Perhaps that was why he sympathized with humans so much; he was more like them then he was willing to admit.

A rustling nearby made Malik open his eyes. Brivari was standing over him, looking at him curiously, almost appraisingly, as though studying an appliance he was thinking of purchasing. *I could have killed you last night,* he said softly. *Why didn't I?*

*I could have gotten you killed several times since you arrived here,* Malik retorted, *and I'm asking myself the same question.* He pushed himself up on one elbow, ignoring the complaints from his head. *I told you last night that this was bigger than both of us, bigger than whatever issues you have with me or I have with Zan. But if you can't see that, if the King's chief representative for the next two decades can't or won't see the bigger picture....well, then I'm not the only one who's being naïve.*

Malik lay back down and closed his eyes again, not bothering to wait for a response.....and then a sudden warmth spread over the back of his head, and the pain began to recede. He opened his eyes to find Brivari holding a glowing healing stone; a minute later, the pain was gone.

*Get up,* Brivari ordered.

*What for?* Malik asked suspiciously. *Is there some royal edit that says traitors must be executed while healthy and vertical?*

*Get up,* Brivari repeated. *We have work to do.*

Malik stared at him. *'We'?*

*Do I have to say everything twice?* Brivari said irritably. *Yes, 'we'. Now, get up.*

Confused, Malik sat up. *Does this mean....does this mean that you trust me now?*

Brivari's eyebrows rose. *Let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?*



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



0630 hours

Eagle Rock Military Base



The alarm buzzed, and Sergeant Brisson sat up so quickly that his head immediately started spinning, his heart beating a wild tattoo inside his chest. What time was it? Damn! he thought furiously, slamming the clock he'd just grabbed back on the bedside table. The last time he remembered being awake was at 0400, and sheer exhaustion must have taken over after that. If he didn't hurry, he'd be late.

Ten minutes later, Brisson had thrown on a fresh uniform to replace the rumpled one he'd slept in, brushed his teeth, and combed his hair. He took one last look at himself in the mirror before heading out of his quarters, and was relieved to find he looked normal, apart from the bags beneath his eyes which couldn't be helped and were easily explained away. He'd filled in for Lieutenant White before for a variety of reasons, but this time was different—this time, he was carrying a secret that could easily turn deadly, if it hadn't already.

After he'd arrived back at the compound last night, it had taken Brisson all of thirty minutes to complete his tasks, which consisted of officially explaining Lieutenant White's absence and checking to see if Pierce had discovered the mislabeled alien reproductive cells. Corporal Thompson had jimmied the lock to the door on Cavitt's office, where Brisson had helpfully found a request for leave from the lieutenant already on Cavitt's desk that was easily doctored to reflect the current circumstances, and a careful inspection of the lab had proven Lieutenant White's pregnancy to be nothing more than very bad luck. Brisson had spent the rest of the night pacing the floor, alternately checking for Spade's return every half hour on the half hour and wondering where Spade could possibly have had contact with aliens who would be willing to help them with a problem like this, both without success. As of this moment, he had no idea if the lieutenant had survived.

That thought had Brisson's stomach in knots as he hurried down the first floor hallway, nodding to other soldiers as he passed. First stop was the mess hall; Lieutenant White's duties were extremely light during the week, what with the prisoner gone all day, so all he had to do this morning besides the usual administration of the serum was provide breakfast for the prisoner.

"Morning, sir," the soldier behind the counter said. "What are you having?"

"I need breakfast for the prisoner," Brisson said, grateful to have such an easy target for round one of lying "One of Lieutenant White's relatives became ill suddenly, so she needed to take some leave."

"Sorry to hear that," the soldier commented. "You want the usual?"

"Sure...whatever it usually has," Brisson answered, watching wide-eyed as the soldier proceeded to load—no, overload—a tray with heaping portions of everything available.

"There you go," the soldier said cheerfully, tucking a set of silverware into the scrambled eggs and adding a pile of tea bags to the tray.

"No coffee?" Brisson asked.

"It drinks tea now; went off coffee awhile back. Don't know why."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks," Brisson said, levering the heavy tray out into the hallway toward the basement stairs. "Morning," he said shortly to the stairway guards as he stepped up onto the x-ray machine. "Anyone seen Captain Spade?"

"I heard he got back really late last night," Corporal LaBella said.

"Musta really tied one on," Corporal Vallone added, peering into the viewer. "Congrats, Sergeant—you're human."

"Do you know where I can find him?" Brisson asked, stepping off the machine.

"Not right now. But it'll be time to leave for the hangar soon, so he'll be at the prisoner's room shortly."

"Right. Thanks," Brisson said, heading into the stairwell and waiting for the doors to close behind him before leaning against the wall, shaking all over. So Spade was back. That he hadn't made any attempt to talk to Brisson yet was not good news. Wouldn't he have come to him immediately if she'd survived? Or did he have it backwards, and no news was good news?

Pulling himself together, Brisson's next stop was the lab to pick up the daily dose of serum. He knew Pierce would be there, but fooling Pierce should be relatively easy. "What's this?" Pierce asked, eyeing the tray. "Where's Lieutenant White?"

"There was an illness in the family," Brisson explained, the lie slipping out easier this time. "She needed emergency leave."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Pierce said. "I suppose we're fortunate this didn't happen a couple of weeks ago, or we would have missed a procedure."

"Yes, sir," Brisson said, retrieving the serum from the refrigerator. He hadn't tested it today, but he could make a fake entry in the logbook later.

"You haven't noticed anything unusual about the lieutenant, have you Sergeant? Any signs of success at all?"

"No, sir, " Brisson said faintly.

"A pity," Pierce said, shaking his head. "Next time we'll switch back to beta cells. Remind me."

"Yes, sir," Brisson said, hurrying out of the lab, only to round a corner and run into Cavitt.

"There you are," Cavitt said in an annoyed tone. "Sergeant, why is your signature on Lieutenant White's request for emergency leave? Where was Captain Spade?"

"He...he wasn't here at the time, sir," Brisson stammered, clutching the tray even harder as the silverware began to rattle because his hands were shaking. Lying to Pierce was one thing; lying to Cavitt was another. "Should I have left it unsigned?"

"No, of course not," Cavitt said impatiently. "I just don't see why she couldn't have waited for the Captain's return, or had him paged at the base. You're not even an officer, for heaven's sake."

"I believe she had to catch a train," Brisson ventured.

"Yes, well, in the future, any emergency leaves must be approved by the ranking officer," Cavitt said. "You can be certain I'll be having a chat with the lieutenant about this when she returns."

You mean if she returns, Brisson thought as Cavitt stalked off, still grumbling about his paper pile not being as tidy as he would have liked. After carefully peeling his hands off the tray which he'd been gripping so tightly that huge dents now graced his hands, Brisson headed for his toughest stop of the morning, swallowing hard as the guards outside the alien's room pushed the heavy sliding door aside. The alien was the only one besides himself and Pierce who had known what was going on; he would also be the hardest to fool. Just like you rehearsed it, Brisson said to himself. All he had to do was repeat the simple lie about Lieutenant White's whereabouts that had already fooled three people, all the while appearing firm and calm because the alien could smell fear a mile away. Repeating the lie would be easy; the second part was another matter.

"I'll only be a minute," Brisson said to the guards. "You can leave the door open."

The guards nodded, and Brisson relaxed a fraction as he stepped into the blinding white room that seemed to bother everyone but the alien, who was already up and dressed and seated at the table, pouring two cups of tea. Its eyebrows rose when it discovered the intended recipient of that second cup wasn't here.

"Where is The Healer?"

"She....she had to leave," Brisson stammered, his carefully prepared speech flying out of his head as those eyes, those awful eyes, bored into him. The alien had once threatened to kill him if anything ever happened to Lieutenant White, and Brisson had no doubt he would carry out that threat.

"Why?" the alien demanded.

"A....a relation of hers became ill, and she needed to leave. If he dies, she'll need to attend the funeral. Do you know what a funeral is?" Brisson babbled, hoping to change the subject.

No such luck. "Of course I know what a 'funeral' is," the alien said coldly, rising from its chair and walking toward him, nearly causing Brisson to drop the tray. "It's what you'll be having soon if you don't stop lying to me."

"Lying?" Brisson echoed, trying to sound indignant instead of terrified. "Why would you think I'm lying? A member of her family is sick, and she needed to go away for a few days. It's as simple as that."

"Deception is never simple," the alien said softly, "a fact you seem to be discovering for the first time." He leaned in closer as Brisson quailed. "Now, I'll ask you again—where is The Healer?"


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

I'll post Chapter 126 next Sunday.

Well, you don't mess with real authority, I guess. Even Brivari doesn't want to mess with Emily!

She'd also convinced her husband to steer the hovering soldier downstairs, something for which Marana was secretly grateful, having found men of any species typically unhelpful in medical situations.

Odd, though, how "feminine" Marana acts considering she is actually neither male nor female, no different really than Brivari or any other shapeshifter.

Great chapter, Kathy, as always!

Hey, I got another chapter while I was reading the last one! No wait!

Brisson is in for a sweat, I think. Jaddo can see right through his deception and is not going to let it go. I'm wondering what Jaddo is going to do, though. I can't see him just sitting back and waiting to find out if Yvonne will be okay. This could speed up his going "AWOL" (Alien Without Official Leave) considerably.

Ah, and Marana! I can just imagine her shock at waking up to Brivari's face! It's a bit like waking up to find a lion with its mouth around your neck!

"Get up," he ordered harshly.

The scientist's eyes flew open, then widened in shock. For all that Emily couldn't stand this woman, she felt a stab of pity as the scientist scrambled up and behind the chair, placing it protectively between herself and Brivari. She looked absolutely terrified.

"Nasedo does not want you dead," the man answered. "A man who wants you dead does not carry you all the way back here from deep in the forest when he could just as easily have killed you out there, or left you for the wild animals to finish."

"He carried me back here?"

"And asked us to guard you until his return. I may not have known Nasedo as long as you have," the man continued, "but I have known him long enough to know that had he wanted you dead, we would not be having this conversation."

Yep! That's a fact!


But I loved Malik's retort here:

*Get up,* Brivari ordered.

*What for?* Malik asked suspiciously. *Is there some royal edit that says traitors must be executed while healthy and vertical?*

I think Brivari has taken a big step. He has accepted (albeit tentatively and after much reflection) that someone with a different motive than his own might have some validity in his reasons. Otherwise, I don't think he would be where he is now.


Great chapter!

Island Breeze: I confess I'm not fond of Marana, but I agree it must have been terrifying for her to wake up and find her worst nightmare hovering over her. And if Emily's feeling sorry for her, it must be bad. I'm wondering what David would have done if Marana had tried to run during the healing, if he would have shot her as Brivari ordered, or let her go. Haven't even answered that one for myself yet!

I imagine that if a shapeshifter typically presents as one gender or the other, they could come to identify with that gender. Maybe not if they switch off a lot, but if they don't, I can see them falling into gender-specific roles/habits/whatever.

And "AWOL" (Alien Without Official Leave)........*dies laughing* :mrgreen:








CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-SIX


June 7, 1950, 0700 hours

Eagle Rock Military Base



Sergeant Brisson held the breakfast tray protectively in front of him as he stared speechlessly into the alien's hard eyes, unable to make a sound as its demand to know what had happened to Lieutenant White hung in the air unanswered. Say something! he told himself sternly. The key in situations like this was not to back down, to keep repeating what had already been said. Of course that strategy required a working set of vocal cords, something he seemed to lack at the moment.

"Speak!" the alien hissed, low enough that the guards wouldn't overhear.

"I....I already told you!" Brisson squeaked, flushing at the pitch of his voice. "There was an illness in her family, and—"

"Speak the truth, not the official excuse," the alien interrupted severely.

"It's not an excuse!" Brisson objected desperately, backing up in spite of his earlier resolve to do no such thing. "I—"

"Is there a problem here?" asked a voice behind him.

Brisson whirled around, nearly upsetting the contents of the tray. Captain Spade was standing in the open doorway behind them looking none the worse for wear, with a fresh uniform and a fresh shave. There was no way he'd be looking so spiffy if Lieutenant White had died, so this must be good news, not to mention the fact that his sudden appearance couldn't have come at a better time.

"Captain," Brisson said, sagging with relief. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"Where is The Healer?" the alien demanded of Spade.

"One of the lieutenant's relatives passed away yesterday," Spade said with a perfectly straight face.

"You said her relative was ill, not dead," the alien said accusingly to Brisson, whose mouth opened and closed as he looked back and forth from the alien to Spade.

"So he didn't pass away?" Spade asked Brisson smoothly, not missing a beat. "That's good news. I'll keep my fingers crossed for his recovery. In any case, the lieutenant should be back by the end of the week."

Silence. The alien studied Spade closely, its suspicions unassuaged. "Are you certain of this?" it asked.

"Of course," Spade answered.

For some odd reason, this information seemed to mollify the alien, who nodded briefly and resumed its seat at the table, motioning impatiently for Brisson to set the tray down. He did so gratefully, having almost dropped it in sheer terror several times now, and would have left immediately had Spade not reminded him to administer the serum. A minute later, Brisson hurried gratefully out the door with Spade on his heels. "Thank you, Captain," Brisson whispered just as soon as they were clear of the guards. "If you hadn't come along—"

"Let's be clear," Spade said tersely, taking Brisson's arm and steering him down another hallway. "I couldn't care less about saving your bacon; I just didn't want the prisoner upset. I need him calm right now."

"Why?" Brisson asked.

"Never mind. In," Spade ordered, propelling Brisson into his quarters and locking the door behind them.

"Well?" Brisson demanded. "What happened? Is she all right?"

"Yes," Spade said shortly. "Did you file the papers for emergency leave?"

"She already had a form on Cavitt's desk, so I changed it to reflect the illness of an uncle," Brisson said. "Remember that—the illness of an uncle. A death is too easy to check; illness is easier to fake. If we're going to pull this off, we need to make sure we're telling the same story."

"Whatever," Spade said impatiently. "Did they buy it?"

"Pierce bought it, no problem," Brisson answered. "Cavitt was pissed because I signed the form and I'm not an officer; I told him you weren't here. But enough about that—where did you take her? What did they do to her? You just blew out of here last night without even telling me where you were going or what you were planning to do! What if—"

Smack! Pain exploded in Brisson jaw, followed by pain in his head as he slammed backwards into the wall. He put a hand to his face in shock before Spade hauled him up by the collar, his hot breath flooding Brisson's face. "What the hell are you doing?" Brisson exclaimed, struggling in Spade's grasp. "What—"

"I'm doing what I held off doing last night because I needed you," Spade said, his voice dripping with rage. "You piece of shit, you raped her!"

"I did not!" Brisson sputtered. "It was Pierce! All I did was hand him things, and collect information, and do my damnedest to make sure this didn't happen!"

"Guess what?" Spade said furiously. "It happened anyway!"

"It would have happened a lot sooner if I hadn't done something to prevent it!" Brisson said heatedly. "If you want to cover this up, you still need me!" he added hastily as Spade's fist rose again. "Do you think I didn't notice that you knew exactly how to find an alien? And not just any random alien, but one who's willing to help you? How long has that been going on? Don't you think Cavitt will be interested in hearing that? How long do you think you'll last if he does?"

"How long do you think you'll last if I tell Ramey about what Pierce is up to, and how I found out about it?" Spade shot back.

"You do that, and Pierce finds out she was pregnant!" Brisson exclaimed.

"No, he won't," Spade said grimly. "I don't have to let that particular nugget go to fry your ass but good."

"Same here," Brisson retorted. "If I tell Cavitt I saw you with an alien, he'll be all over you like a rash! Do you want to take that risk?"

Brisson held his breath as Spade's fist hovered in the air uncertainly for several very long seconds before slowly lowering. "Fine. So we each have the goods on the other. And we'd both better keep that in mind before shooting our respective mouths off."

"Yeah. Right. Okay," Brisson panted, reaching up to touch his aching jaw as he spoke. "Jesus, you could have broken my jaw!"

"Ask me if I care," Spade said acidly. "As far as I'm concerned, you deserve to have a lot more broken than just your jaw."

"I'm telling you, there was nothing I could do!" Brisson insisted. "If I'd objected, Pierce would have replaced me, probably with someone who didn't care about the lieutenant! I thought about telling her a million times, but if she'd found out, he would have whisked her out of here so fast that you never would have had time to react! I know it sounds crazy, but it was actually safer for her to be here, with me misleading Pierce and him thinking everything was fine."

"What do you mean, 'whisk her out of here'?" Spade demanded. " 'Whisk her out' to where?"

"He could do it," Brisson assured him. "Pierce has friends in high places that promised him continued access to Lieutenant White even when they almost executed the prisoner two years ago."

" 'Continued access'?" Spade muttered. "That sounds like she's some sort of science experiment."

"That's all she is to him," Brisson admitted. "I asked him once what he would do if she actually got pregnant—you can't hide a normal pregnancy, never mind an alien pregnancy—and he talked about a mental hospital in a 'remote location' where he could hide her. He had it all worked out. You never would have found her, Captain."

"Flaming bastard," Spade fumed. "Just wait until I get my hands around his scrawny little neck—"

"No!" Brisson protested. "That's exactly what you can't do. We have to act like nothing's happened—nothing. No retaliation, no questions, no acknowledging this in any way, or the cat's out of the bag and the lieutenant is toast."

"Not if he doesn't know where she is," Spade pointed out. "And no one does right now. No one but me."

Brisson paused, throwing a nervous look toward the door. "What did they do to her?" he whispered. "Did they take her away in a ship? Is she still pregnant? Is she even still on this planet?"

"What, you think I'm going to hand you more ammunition to use against me with Cavitt?" Spade said incredulously. "I'm not telling you a damned thing!"

"I only threatened to do that because you were going to kill me!" Brisson said in exasperation. "Why do you think I got the lieutenant out of the way so fast last night? Why do you think I told you not to take her to the infirmary? I'm on her side, Captain! And I deserve to know at least some details about what's happened to her!"

Spade stared at Brisson in stony silence for a moment before relenting. "She's on this planet, and she's not pregnant anymore."

"What about all those alien cells in her blood?"

"They're gone. She'll be fine. The hard part now will be making her disappear into the ether so Pierce will never find her."

"She can't come back here, that's for sure," Brisson agreed. "She'd be due for another procedure in about a week or so, and—"

" 'Procedure'?" Spade said in a dangerous voice.

Brisson shook his head rapidly. "Never mind. The point is, she can't come back here. Neither of the alien cells Pierce was using are safe now—they've both impregnated her at least once. She'll need a new identity and the paperwork to go with it. I can help you with that."

"You can help me with that?" Spade echoed.

"Of course," Brisson said. "I don't care what the officers think—it's us enlisted men who run the Army, not to mention every other branch of the service. I can get her a fake birth certificate, a fake driver's license for any state in the union, a fake—"

"Thanks, but no thanks," Spade interrupted.

"But I want to help!" Brisson exclaimed, cutting Spade off as he moved for the door. "I didn't know how to help her last night, but I can help with this. Let me help!"

"If you think for one second that I'm going to let you know where she's going, you're crazy," Spade said harshly. "From now on, Lieutenant White is my concern, not yours."

"Captain..."

"I mean it, Brisson," Spade said menacingly, advancing on him so quickly that Brisson backed up in alarm. "I told she's all right, and that's all I'm telling you. You've done enough already, don't you think?"

Brisson felt himself flushing from a combination of anger and embarrassment. "I meant what I said last night, sir. You're not the only one who cares about her."

Spade's eyebrows rose. Brisson glared defiantly but listed backwards as Spade leaned in closer. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere near Yvonne when she finds out just how much you 'cared' for her."



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




*Anything?* Orlon asked.

*Nothing,* Amar answered as human soldiers filed by in one of the dozens of hallways inside the human military base. They had arrived late last night and begun scouring the base for any sign of Brivari, without success.

*Where could he be?* Orlon wondered. *Brivari's been making daily visits here for months now.*

*It's not just Brivari,* Amar said. *His allies aren't here either—the nurse whose shape I took, and one of the soldiers. They're both usually out and about by this time.*

*What about Jaddo?* Orlon asked worriedly. *He's still here, isn't he?*

*Seems to be,* Amar answered. *There's no indication that they've lost their prisoner. We'll know in a few minutes when the trucks leave for the hangar.*

Orlon fell into a frustrated silence as they took up positions with a good vantage point of the hangar's entrance. Watching Jaddo's daily trip to the hangar on their frequent reconnaissance missions here over the past several months had been torture for Orlon. The humans had effectively stymied them by sending multiple trucks to the hangar with Jaddo in a different truck each day, effectively forcing them to either choose a truck at random or spread themselves dangerously thin if they chose to attack. They had done neither, of course, merely watching the trucks roll by and cursing the fact that such a backwards race had successfully employed such simple measures against them. It bothered Amar less, as he was more interested in capturing Brivari than Jaddo. So was Orlon, for that matter, but at this point, he would have settled for any prisoner at all.

*You should contact your source,* Orlon announced.

Amar snorted. *I'd hardly refer to Walker as a 'source'.*

*Then we should change our approach,* Orlon persisted. *Reveal that Jaddo is a dangerous criminal on our world, or—*

*I already told you, Walker hates aliens,* Amar interrupted. *The last thing we want to do is to tell him what we really are.*

*It can't be a coincidence that Brivari and both of his allies are missing at the same time,* Orlon argued. *We should make at least some effort to find out why.*

Amar bit back a retort as Orlon continued to fret, wishing again that Malik were here. Malik had always functioned as an intermediary for human interactions, but Amar had never realized how much he had served the same purpose in other areas as well. Like now, between him and Orlon. Or yesterday evening, when they were preparing to leave, and Amar had found a basket on the front porch with a note inside:

Dear Carl,

We're so sorry to hear about the tragedy in your family. It's really hard to lose someone. Please know that our thoughts and prayers are with you. We hope these things will make your trip a bit more comfortable and remind you that we are thinking of you.

The note was signed by virtually every family on the street, including all the children. There must have been thirty or forty signatures, some written neatly in ink, some awkwardly in pencil, some scrawled in crayon. The basket contained wrapped sandwiches, a few pieces of fruit, and a small amount of human currency, a collection apparently having been taken up for "Carl's" benefit. Amar would normally have scoffed at such a gesture, but he'd read the note with a tightness in his throat, even snapping at Orlon when he'd wanted to simply leave the basket behind.

*We should give it more time,* Amar said to Orlon, struggling to keep the exasperation out of his voice as the hole in his life where Malik should have been grew larger. *The humans became much more mobile after the x-ray machines were installed, so it's possible that Brivari's allies are simply off the base on 'leave', or whatever they call it.*

*Damned machines,* Orlon said sourly, the x-rays being yet another simple device that had proven an insurmountable obstacle. *Now we know where those came from.*

*What do you mean?*

*Malik, of course,* Orlon said. *He knew all about those infernal machines, so he probably tipped the humans off as to their usefulness.*

*Malik knew about them because he had repaired them,* Amar said, eyeing Orlon severely. *In case you've forgotten, Malik was our front, our interface with the humans and the source of the currency we needed to survive.*

*And apparently a willing stooge for Brivari in his efforts to sabotage us,* Orlon said darkly.

*Where is this coming from?* Amar snapped. *Yesterday you told me that you caught Brivari sabotaging the emergents' tanks, and that Malik and Marana had likely been killed in the fight. Then you turned around and accused him of being a traitor, and today you're doing the same thing! How can he be a traitor if he's dead?*

*I told you I'm not certain he's dead,* Orlon replied. *I said I thought Marana was probably dead because she was badly injured, but I don't know what happened to Malik. Maybe he's alive. And if he is, that means he's a traitor.*

*Like hell it does!* Amar retorted. *That could also mean he's captive. And what makes you think he might be alive? Have you seen something to make you think that?*

Orlon looked away. *No.*

*Then I'm not following your line of reasoning, assuming there ever was one,* Amar said coldly as Orlon's eyes flashed. *Is there something you're not telling me?*

*Of course not,* Orlon said impatiently. *I'm just uneasy about all the unanswered questions. I want to be prepared for any eventuality, and you should be too.*

Believe me, I am, Amar thought sourly. It wasn't lost on him that Orlon had not yet revealed his involvement with Athenor; if Orlon was keeping some things from him, there was reason to believe he would keep other things from him as well. And just in case Orlon got any bright ideas, Amar had left him a little present back at the house that would make him regret the day he'd decided to lie to Amar.



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



7:50 a.m.

Proctor residence



"Mama!" Dee called up the stairs, her book bag over her shoulder. "Mama, where are you? I—"

She stopped as her father appeared at the top of the stairs and put a finger to his lips. "Keep your voice down," David said. "Your mother's downstairs putting in another load of laundry, so hollering up here won't do you any good."

"I thought she did the laundry yesterday, and I wasn't 'hollering'," Dee said.

"She didn't finish," her father answered. "Your mother was a little too preoccupied yesterday. And since we've taken these people in, the least we can do is let them sleep in peace. Please, no more yelling, Dee."

I wasn't yelling, Dee thought, gazing at her father in consternation. What was it with her parents today? Both were adamant that she not disturb the two aliens upstairs, going so far as to close the guest room door and insist that she couldn't so much as peek. Both looked like they'd been up all night, with her mother looking even worse than that. Dee dimly remembered hearing raised voices a couple of times last night, and weary as she'd been from healing the aliens yesterday morning, she'd just rolled over and gone back to sleep. Had they been up arguing last night? Is that why they were both so tired and jumpy?

"Well, I'm leaving for school now," Dee told her father. "I need a note because I was absent yesterday."

"I'll do it," her father said, pulling paper and a pen out of the hallway drawer and scribbling briefly. "Got your lunch?"

"Yes....but I wanted to say goodbye to Mama," Dee said, glancing at the nearly illegible note.

"I'll tell her," David said, planting a kiss on top of her head. "Bye, honey. Have a good day at school."

Dee eyed her father suspiciously for a moment. He usually tried to get her to say goodbye to her mother when they were having one of their battles—why was he so willing to let her skip that this morning? "Daddy....is everything okay?"

"Sure. Why?"

"Is everything okay with Malik and Marana? Is that why you won't let me see them?"

"They're fine," her father said. "I just didn't want to wake them, and you know your mother doesn't want you around them anyway. Let's not upset her; she was upset enough yesterday. You'd better get going, or you'll be late."

A minute later, Dee found herself on the front porch, staring at the door her father had just closed behind her. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn he was trying to hurry her out of the house. Was something else going on? She had half a mind to nip around the back, creep upstairs, and see what was what when she saw Anthony standing on the sidewalk, watching not her, but the house, as though expecting a spaceship to fly up out of the backyard at any moment.

"Hi," Dee said when she reached him.

"I came over after school yesterday, but your mother wouldn't let me in," Anthony reported.

"Of course not," Dee sighed. "She's going to be paranoid all over again."

"So....are they still here?" Anthony asked in a hushed voice.

"Good morning, you two," a voice called behind him. Mary Laura and Rachel were approaching, with Mary Laura using her very best school teacher voice. Anthony threw an anguished look Dee's way, and Dee made a command decision.

"Anthony and I really need to walk to school alone this morning," Dee said. "We have some things to talk about."

Rachel shrugged. "Okay."

"A bit brazen, don't you think?" Mary Laura asked with raised eyebrows.

"Don't be such a priss, Mary Laura," Dee said severely.

"Hmph," Mary Laura sniffed, stalking off as Rachel threw sympathetic glances in Anthony's and Dee's direction. Dee knew that Mary Laura would have this all over school by lunch time, but she didn't care; she and Anthony needed to talk. One of the reasons she'd been careful about what she had and hadn't told him these past few years was because she hadn't wanted to put him in danger just like she and her family were....and the other was that she was afraid the truth would scare him off. Now that he was all the way in on the secret, she needed to know what he was thinking.

"They're still here," Dee told Anthony as soon as Mary Laura and Rachel were out of earshot. "At least I think they are. Mama and Daddy wouldn't let me near them this morning."

"Are they okay?" Anthony asked, falling in step beside her.

"They were yesterday," Dee said.

"Are you okay?"

"I was just tired," Dee replied. "Those stones really wear you out."

"I noticed," Anthony said. "How do those work, exactly?" he added, lowering his voice even though no one was around.

"They let whoever is hurt use your energy to heal themselves," Dee explained. "At least I think that's how it works. That's why whoever's holding them is tired afterwards."

"Is that how they fixed you when Denny hurt you?"

Dee nodded. "I woke up in the woods behind the school and saw all four of them standing over me with glowing stones in their hands."

"Wow," Anthony breathed, falling silent for a moment before continuing. "So why didn't your father use one of those stones? I mean, I know why your mother didn't, but why didn't he help?"

"Because he couldn't," Dee said. "They work for all the aliens, but not for all humans. I can, and so can Mama, but they've never worked for Daddy." She paused a moment, eyeing Anthony curiously. "So are you going to tell me what he said to you yesterday when he took you to school?"

"He didn't tell you?" Anthony asked uncomfortably.

"Nope."

Anthony stopped walking. "I—I'm sorry, Dee, but.....he knows. He knows you told me a long time ago. I didn't tell him, I swear. He just knew."

"That's okay," Dee said. "Daddy's like that. What else did he say?"

"Not much," Anthony admitted, as they resumed walking. "Turns out I knew most of it anyway. You know....the war, the king and his family, the guy who stole the king's throne. The one part I didn't know is that they could change what they look like. Can they look like anything else besides us and...them?"

"They've been animals," Dee confirmed. "Coyotes—"

"Coyotes?" Anthony echoed. "You mean....you mean like the coyote that killed Denny Miltnor?"

"Yeah," Dee said quietly. "And they've been birds. Hawks, owls—"

As if on cue, a bird sang in the tree they were passing, and Anthony jumped, staring up at the branches. "And this is why I never told you they were shapeshifters," Dee said gently. "Because I was afraid you'd think every single thing you saw was an alien."

"How do they do it?" Anthony wondered. "How do you go from being a human grown-up to being a bird?"

Dee shook her head. "I don't know. But I've seen them do it. It's weird to watch."

"I'll bet," Anthony said, wide-eyed. "Can they look like us too? I mean, I know they can look human, but could they look like you or me?"

"Yes," Dee said heavily, bracing herself for what she knew would be the response.

"But....then how do we know?" Anthony asked, bewildered. "How do we know anyone we see is really who we think they are? Anyone really could be an alien."

"First of all, there aren't that many of them," Dee said, having carefully rehearsed this speech many, many times in the past two years. "Right now there are only six aliens I know of on the planet, so everyone you see can't be an alien. And the way you tell is by asking someone something only they would know. Like, what if I asked you what we were doing the day we met?"

"We were in your backyard, and Ernie made up that stupid capture-the-alien game," Anthony answered. "And you popped him."

"Exactly," Dee said. "An alien who looked like you wouldn't know that. They can only copy what we look like and sound like, not our memories. Now you ask me something."

Anthony stopped walking and studied her for a second. "Tell me about the first time you came over to my house."

"I crawled in the window," Dee answered, "because you were grounded for setting off all those firecrackers around Valenti's car. And you showed me your telescope and your orrey, and I had to leave fast when your mother showed up to send you to bed."

To Dee's surprise, Anthony actually blushed. "Yesterday, I asked your father if he was an alien," he confessed. "I even wondered if you were."

"Mama probably thinks so sometimes," Dee smiled. "And why not? Sometimes I feel like one."

"What do you mean?"

"I know what it feels like to be the one who doesn't fit," Dee said, staring at the ground, "and how lonely it can get when you have to keep a secret."

"Do you ever wish you hadn't found them?" Anthony asked.

Dee shook her head. "No. Never." She hesitated before turning the question around. "What about you? Do you wish you hadn't found out?"

To Dee's enormous relief, Anthony broke into a wide smile. "No way. I wouldn't trade this for the world."

"Really?"

"Really."

They were approaching the school now, and Anthony came to a halt. Dee followed his gaze and sighed in exasperation. Mary Laura had been exceptionally speedy this morning; almost all of the students waiting for the doors to open were watching them approach with some combination of smiles, giggles, and in Ernie Hutton's case, various lewd gestures he'd picked up from his older brother. "Good Lord," Dee grumbled, borrowing a favorite expression of her mother's. "I thought we'd at least have until lunch."

Anthony shrugged. "Who cares? We both know that there's more to life than school gossip, right?"

He smiled at her, and she returned his smile as they walked toward the school, ignoring their classmates. She knew it was selfish of her, but she'd imagined this over and over, the time when Anthony would know everything, or enough that there was no longer any reason to keep things from him. When she no longer had to think carefully before she spoke, when she had someone else to talk to who wasn't a parent. This wasn't exactly the way she'd thought it would happen, but no matter—she was just glad it had.



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



Proctor residence



Emily set the laundry basket down outside the guest room and leaned wearily against the wall. This was her watch—Dee had left for school, mercifully unaware of the drama she had slept through, and David had headed to bed for some much needed sleep after having been up all night, leaving strict instructions to wake him when Captain Spade returned around lunch time. Emily had been relieved to hear that Spade was coming back to break the news to the nurse about what had been done to her; that was a job she didn't envy him. Besides, she had her own talk to look forward to. She and David had managed a semblance of normalcy this morning as Dee got ready for school, but they couldn't keep this latest turn of events from her much longer, not with Army officers coming and going and Brivari back in the house. As soon as she got home from school, they planned to sit her down and fill her in, and Emily winced inwardly at what she knew would be the response: An announcement from her daughter that the means by which the nurse had been healed were the same means used to heal her three years ago, means developed via methods Emily deplored. This would be followed by a charge of hypocrisy, which would be followed by fruitless counter-arguments, which would be followed by David trying to make peace. It made Emily more tired just thinking about it.

Picking up the basket, Emily carefully opened the guest room door and padded inside, her slippers making no sound on the wood floor. The nurse was still curled in a ball, sleeping peacefully, and Emily removed one of the still warm blankets from the basket and spread it over her. She appeared to have recovered completely with no bleeding, no fever, no outward sign of how close she'd come to death. And that had been very close indeed; Emily's own fatigue was a testament to that. When more than one person used healing stones, some sort of link was formed between them, which explained why she had always been able to tell when her daughter was tiring when both had used the stones simultaneously in the past. Last night was the first time Emily had used the stones with anyone besides Dee, and she had been surprised at how accurately she could gauge the energy all of them were expending. Whatever had ailed the nurse must have been severe because Brivari had worked his tail off, pulling heavily from both Emily and the alien scientist to fix the results of the Army doctor's meddling. And Emily had poured everything she'd had into it, embarrassed beyond belief that this latest example of playing God came from none other than her own people.

Now she glanced toward Marana, still asleep in the rocking chair, her face pale and drawn. David had tucked a blanket around her, and Emily felt another stab of pity that Brivari had used her the way he had, taking from her as relentlessly as he had from Emily, even though she'd had precious little to give. But Brivari had been right; even though he and Emily were strong and rested, the two of them alone may not have been enough to heal the nurse. What little the scientist had had to give had proven crucial.

Emily hesitated a moment before removing another warm blanket from the laundry basket and draping it carefully over Marana....only to pull back in alarm as her eyes flew open.

"What are you doing?" Marana demanded.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!" Emily exclaimed. "You scared the hell out of me!"

"I said what are you doing?" Marana repeated loudly.

"Keep your voice down!" Emily whispered. "I was just giving you another blanket."

"Why?"

"Because you looked cold," Emily said impatiently. "Is that a good enough reason for you?"

"No," Marana said flatly. "Since when do you care about me?"

"Quiet!" Emily insisted. "You'll wake her!"

Marana's eyes flicked sideways. "Too late."

Emily's heart sank as she turned around to find the nurse's eyes wide open, eyes that moved slowly around the room and finally came to rest on Emily.

"Where am I?" she whispered.



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

I'lll post Chapter 127 next Sunday.

Hello to everyone reading!





CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-SEVEN


June 7, 1950, 8:30 a.m.

Proctor residence



Emily could think of precisely nothing to say as the nurse stared at her, wide-eyed. She hadn't counted on her waking up so soon, and so hadn't prepared a suitable speech, hadn't given any thought at all as to how to tell a woman that someone had gotten her pregnant with a half alien child. This made the upcoming argument with Dee look like child's play.

"Where am I?" the nurse repeated, her eyes darting around the room again, her voice taking on a distinct note of alarm.

"In my house," Emily answered hastily. "You're safe."

The eyes darted back to Emily. "Who are you?"

"My name is Emily Proctor, and like I said, you're in my house."

The nurse didn't answer, just continued to gaze uncomprehendingly at Emily, who was frantically trying to decide how to handle this. She had no intention of lying, but simply spilling the beans wouldn't do either; the nurse was going to have dozens of questions that Emily simply couldn't answer. Perhaps the recommended strategy for discussing difficult subjects with children would work: Answer only the questions they asked without expounding on what they hadn't asked. Of course that had never worked with her daughter, but the so-called experts who came up with these strategies had never had to deal with Dee. Hopefully the nurse would be so disoriented that simple information would mollify her, and she'd go back to sleep.

"How did I get here?" the nurse asked.

"Captain Spade brought you here," Emily replied, leaving out the fact that an alien had also played chauffeur.

"Why?"

"Because you were sick."

A long pause. "If I were sick, he would have brought me to the infirmary," the nurse said suspiciously.

"The infirmary couldn't help you," Emily said carefully, "so he brought you here instead. Your name is Yvonne, right?" she added in her very best motherly voice.

Unfortunately, the mention of her name made the nurse scramble to a sitting position, her long hair spilling over her shoulders. "Who are you?" she demanded, her voice shaking. "Where am I? And where is Stephen? If he brought me here, he wouldn't have just left me!"

"He's coming back," Emily said soothingly, sitting down slowly on the side of the bed as the nurse drew back in alarm. "He'll be back around lunch time. It's a little after 8:30 now, so it'll just be a few hours."

"I don't believe you!" the nurse exclaimed, panic creeping around the edges of her voice. "I have no idea who you are, or where I am, or how I got here, or...." She stopped, her eyes wild with fright, staring at Emily as if she were an assassin.

"Okay," Emily said carefully, privately lamenting the fact that those damned healing stones had done such a good job in such a short time. "What say I open the curtains so you can see the room better? Is that all right with you?"

The nurse nodded mutely, and Emily rose slowly from the bed and walked to the window. A moment later, early morning sunshine poured into the room, making everyone squint. The first thing the nurse noticed when her eyes adjusted was Marana.

"Who is that?" she whispered.

Emily glanced at Marana, who was throwing her a skeptical look. "That's someone else who was sick and needed help," Emily said.

Marana made a small noise of disgust, but otherwise remained mercifully silent. The nurse didn't notice; her attention was now focused on the nightgown she was wearing, one of Emily's that Emily had dressed her in last night. "Where is my uniform?"

"I have it soaking," Emily answered, privately doubtful that she'd ever get those blood stains out.

"Why?"

"It needed cleaning."

"But why?" the nurse demanded, her voice rising. "Why would anyone undress me?"

"I told you, you were sick," Emily said patiently, "so—"

"Just tell her," Marana interrupted.

"Tell me what?" the nurse exclaimed, truly panicking now, pulling the blanket up further around her as though it could serve as a shield. "What aren't you telling me?"

"She needs to hear the truth," Marana insisted, ignoring Emily's furious glare. "I know what you're trying to do, but it didn't work."

Silence. The nurse had her back pressed against the headboard, the blanket drawn protectively around her, her eyes wide with fear. Marana was watching Emily, her expression perfectly readable even though she said nothing. Go ahead—tell her. Tell her what your people did to her.

"All right," Emily sighed, her hands laced in front of her, trying to decide how to begin. "What's the last thing you remember?"

The nurse's eyes went blank for a moment. "I....I was on the base. I went looking for Stephen because I...."

"Weren't feeling well?" Emily offered.

"I....I had my period," the nurse said self-consciously. "I usually don't feel well when I have my period."

"But this time was worse, right?" Emily said. "The bleeding was worse."

"How did you know that?" the nurse whispered.

"From what Captain Spade told us," Emily said gently, "you collapsed, and he brought you here because he didn't want the doctor you work for to find out what was wrong with you."

"Dr. Pierce?"

"Yes. Dr. Pierce. Captain Spade was afraid of what Dr. Pierce would do to you if he found out you were ill."

"But....why here?" the nurse said, bewildered. "Where is this place? Why didn't he take me to a hospital?"

"I told you, this is my house," Emily repeated patiently. "You're in Corona, just a few miles from the base, and the Captain didn't take you to a hospital because he was afraid Dr. Pierce would find out about you, and...." She hesitated, still trying to decide how far she wanted to go. "And a hospital couldn't help you because what's wrong with you is alien related. Yes, I know," Emily continued, "you're not supposed to talk about the aliens. But we've been helping them since they arrived"—another snort of disgust from Marana—"and Malik told Captain Spade to bring you here last night."

"Malik," the nurse whispered, clearly familiar with the name. "And Stephen. Where did you say Stephen was?"

"He went back to the base to cover your tracks," Emily said. "He's due back around lunch time," she added, nodding toward the clock on the bedside table, "so that's about three hours. I'm sure he can tell you more then."

"But what did it have to do with my period?" the nurse wondered, having obviously connected some unfortunate dots.

"Captain Spade will be able to tell you all the details," Emily said, sidestepping the question.

"But you must know something, or you wouldn't have mentioned my period," the nurse persisted.

Me and my mouth, Emily thought wearily. "I was just repeating something I overheard," she backpedaled. "I don't want to get it wrong, so I really think you should wait for Captain Spade. Until then, you're safe here. Would you like something to eat?"

The nurse nodded numbly, apparently finding this explanation acceptable for the short term, at least, and Emily breathed a sigh of relief that she'd avoided that minefield. Let Spade break it to her gently, with all the details that Emily was lacking.

"Tell her," Marana said flatly.

Damn it! Emily threw a murderous look Marana's way as the nurse sat up again in alarm. "Tell me what?" she demanded.

"What's the matter?" Marana said softly, her eyes boring into Emily's. "Can't do it? Can't admit that your people are every bit as bad as you thought mine were?"

"What is she talking about?" the nurse said wildly. "Who is she? What did they do to me?"

"They tried to breed you," Marana said bluntly, as the nurse's eyes widened in horror. "Your 'doctor' Pierce successfully impregnated you with alien reproductive cells. We ended the pregnancy," she continued as the nurse's hand flew to her abdomen, "so you're all right now. Until he decides to try again, that is. Which he will, I promise you."

Good Lord, Emily thought as the nurse curled into a ball in shock. So much for breaking it to her gently.



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


Copper Summit, Arizona




"They are not here," Brivari said.

Good, Malik thought as he came down the stairs. As soon as Brivari had headed west on their way out of the village, Malik had known where they were going and hoped that Orlon and Amar would be gone. Not for Orlon's sake; Malik could safely say Orlon deserved whatever Brivari decided to do with him. But since Orlon and Amar would likely have been judged as a set, and since that judgment would undoubtedly have been death, Malik was relieved to see that Amar wasn't here.

"They'll be at the base," Malik said. "They'll stay there around the clock because that's the only place they know you'll be."

"Naturally," Brivari said bitterly, obviously thinking of the planned escape attempt that was already in jeopardy because of Lieutenant White's condition, and was now in further jeopardy because Amar and Orlon would definitely be watching. Spade and Brivari had been reluctant to accept Malik's help in the escape, but now they had no choice. Someone would have to make certain Orlon and Amar didn't show up at an inopportune moment and ruin the whole thing.

"I was thinking," Malik said slowly, " that if Amar were to learn of Orlon's murder of the emergents, it's possible that he would throw his weight behind you."

Brivari gave him a withering look. "It is also possible that he would believe Orlon's version of events. And that's not even beginning to address the question of what good Amar's 'weight' could do me except to function as what the humans would call a 'millstone around my neck'."

Malik said nothing as Brivari continued to inspect the first floor. For all his shortcomings, Amar would be very good in a fight, but this wasn't the time to start an argument. Under the circumstances, it could be considered progress that Brivari had answered him at all—this was the first time he and Brivari had had anything even remotely resembling a conversation since Brivari had healed him. Brivari had said precisely nothing to him on their way here, taking the shape of a bird and taking the lead, not seeming to know or care if Malik was following. They had entered the house through the back door, Brivari opening the lock by holding his hand over the knob even before Malik had managed to fish the key out of its hiding place.

"Where were these emergents you spoke of?" Brivari asked.

"Downstairs," Malik answered, leading the way down into the basement, remembering how he and Amar had cowered in the hidden chamber as Brivari had methodically scoured the walls for the handprint lock that Halloween night when he had discovered them here. Now he opened the chamber door to find nothing amiss. Amar and Orlon had traveled light; the work room looked like everyone had just stepped out for a moment.

"They're planning to return," Brivari said, noticing the same thing.

"Over here," Malik said, holding a hand over the second lock and opening the door to the lower level, descending the stairs slowly, dreading what he knew they would find—every emergent gone, every tank smashed, the floor littered with debris. He'd known Orlon would kill the rest of the emergents, of course, but seeing this.....seeing this was hard.

"Where is the dust?" Brivari wondered.

"Amar must have dispersed it," Malik replied heavily. "I can't imagine him leaving without taking care of that."

He waited for Brivari to respond with some retort or other, some announcement that he couldn't imagine Amar doing any such thing. But Brivari was silent, almost somber, gazing at the tanks as though he felt much the way Malik did about what had happened here.

"Where did Khivar obtain the genetic material for this project?" Brivari asked, inspecting the shattered remains of one of the tanks.

"I'm not sure," Malik admitted. "All the necessary equipment arrived with Khivar's scientist. I verified the age of the embryos, Amar built the tanks, and the scientist installed them. We wouldn't start working for him until he'd finished."

"And who was going to care for and instruct them when they emerged?"

"Amar and I were."

"So you betrayed your king to become a nursemaid?"

"We didn't betray the king," Malik said levelly. "The king betrayed us, all of us, yourself included, much as you don't wish to believe that."

Brivari threw him a look which made it clear he was treading on dangerous ground, but Malik didn't much care. Brivari had not addressed the matter of the king's indiscretions, and yet he must have reached some sort of conclusion on the subject or Malik wouldn't be here right now, wouldn't even be alive right now. He was dying to know if Brivari had decided to believe him, and if so, what could possibly have made the King's Warder change his mind. But it appeared Malik's questions wouldn't be answered today, if ever; Brivari dropped his eyes and proceeded to the next tank. "So tell me, what do you think of your new master, Malik?"

"Khivar's a disaster," Malik said bluntly, "both for Antar and the rest of the five planets."

"Yes, well, the humans have another expression that would apply to a situation like this," Brivari said. " 'Be careful what you ask for, because you might get it'."

"I didn't 'ask' for this," Malik replied firmly. "I wanted Zan to be balanced, not toppled, and certainly not killed."

"But that's what happened, isn't it?"

"That had nothing to do with me," Malik insisted. "I have no idea how Khivar pulled off his coup, but I do know that no one here contributed anything to it. What about you? Do you know how Khivar succeeded?"

"There is nothing of value here," Brivari announced abruptly, ignoring his question. "We should go back; I will deal with this place later."

He knows, Malik realized, following Brivari up the stairs. So the Warders had discovered how Khivar had managed to pull off what no one expected him to, what he shouldn't have been able to. As much as Malik would love to press for the answer to that question too, he decided he'd tempted fate enough for one day. "We should find Spade and see how plans will change now that Lieutenant White isn't available," Malik said, switching to a safer subject. "I don't know what her role was in the escape, but—"

Brivari paused on the stairs ahead of him, cutting him off in mid-sentence. "And what makes you think you will have anything to do with that?"

"Then why am I here?" Malik asked. "What purpose am I supposed to serve?"

"I am not certain," Brivari said coldly. "When I reach a decision, you'll be the first to know."

Great, Malik muttered silently as he followed Brivari up the stairs into the upper chamber, pausing beside one of Amar's workbenchs when he noticed something he hadn't before—a portable communicator displayed prominently in the middle of the empty bench.

"What is it?" Brivari asked impatiently.

"Orlon may have contacted home again," Malik pointed out. "If we could access the logs like Amar did, we could find out what he's up to and—"

"I already know what he's 'up to'," Brivari interrupted, continuing on into the basement and up to the first floor. "He wants to find the hybrids and kill myself and Jaddo, preferably in that order. I don't need confirmation of those intentions, and you shouldn't either."

Malik swallowed a retort, being very accustomed to caustic responses from living with Amar. He was also accustomed to Amar's messiness, which is why he was puzzling over the completely cleaned off workbench with the communicator sitting smack in the middle. Almost as if he'd done that on purpose.

Almost as if it were waiting.



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



12:15 p.m.

Proctor residence



"She knows?" Spade asked.

Emily Proctor bit her lip. "I'm afraid so," she said heavily. "I'm really sorry, Captain. I didn't want it to happen that way. I was just going to leave it at some kind of alien related illness and let you handle the details, but..." She paused, closing her eyes for a moment. "Marana isn't exactly tactful."

"So how is she?" Spade asked.

"Physically, she seems to be fine," Emily replied. "But right after Marana blurted everything out, she just curled into a ball, and.....well.....she's been like that ever since. Won't say anything, or touch any food, or respond to anyone in any way. I'm really sorry," she repeated. "I know that wasn't a good way for her to find out."

So what is a good way for her to find out? Spade wondered, privately grateful that the tactless alien had taken care of what he had been dreading all morning. How did one tell a woman that she'd been knocked out and medically raped for over two years? And here he'd thought lying to Treyborn's parents had been hard; that was nothing compared to this. Not even close.

"Would you like to take some lunch up with you?" Emily was saying. "I made some soup; that might go down well if she's willing to eat."

"Sure," Spade said numbly. "Thank you, Mrs. Proctor. For everything."

"Well....I'm not sure you'll thank me when you see her," Emily said uncertainly. "But maybe you'll have better luck. Let me get you a tray. I'll be right back."

She returned much too quickly with a small tray containing a bowl of soup, a spoon, and a napkin. "I had Marana come down to the kitchen so you can be alone," Emily said. "Good luck."

"Right. Thanks," Spade said, clutching the tray in front of him like a shield and looking up the stairs the way one looks over the edge of a building one is contemplating jumping off. Only there was no decision to be made in this case; Yvonne had to be told exactly what had happened, and he was the best one to tell her. He had a brief, hare-brained notion of consulting Dr. Pierce for psychological advice on how to break bad news to people until he remembered that Pierce was the origin of the bad news he had to break. God, he was losing it.

"My advice, Captain?" Emily said gently, putting a hand on Spade's arm and making him jump; he hadn't even realized she was still there. "I've been in your shoes, and I can promise you there's no 'good' way to deliver news like this. So stop trying to find one, and say what has to be said."

"What do I say?" Spade whispered.

"The truth," Emily said firmly. "Tell her what happened as you experienced it, or as best you know. Tell her what you're not sure of. But be sure you tell her everything, because anything you tell her won't be anywhere near as damaging as what you don't tell her. No matter what anyone thinks, information, even awful information, is always better than imagination. She's lucky she has you to tell her the truth."

Spade swallowed hard. "She's going to be furious."

"Of course she is," Emily said. "Aren't you? Just remember—you didn't do this to her. You saved her. So even if she initially takes it out on you, she doesn't mean it; you're just an easy target. That's the hardest part of this," she added, as though she spoke from personal experience. "Being the target of someone's anger is never easy, especially when you don't deserve it. Try not to take it personally. Try to step back from all of this, and just do what needs doing. Don't over-analyze it—just do it."

Just do it. That sounded like an Army axiom. Spade nodded wordlessly and headed up the stairs, every step becoming heavier as he went. Sunshine filtered into the upstairs hallway from the open bedrooms on either side, the Proctors' own room and their daughter's, her door now open to reveal a room curiously devoid of the usual "girl things" one would have expected to see. Only the guest room door was closed, or ajar, rather, and Spade knocked softly before pushing the door open, his heart in his throat.

Yvonne lay curled on her side, her back to the door, the blanket drawn up so far that it partly obscured her face. Sunlight streamed through the window, giving the room a cheerful look that belied what had happened here. The rocking chair where the alien had fallen asleep last night was indeed empty, and Spade was briefly sorry about that; he felt terribly alone, pausing awkwardly just inside the door, the tray clutched tightly in his hands.

"Yvonne?" he called softly. "It's Stephen. I....I've brought you some lunch."

Lunch? Spade mentally kicked himself for saying the first stupid thing that popped into his head until he remembered Emily Proctor's admonition to stop trying to find a good way to have this conversation when there wasn't one. Assuming that was true, the good news was that he basically couldn't mess this up any worse than it had been already.

"Yvonne?" he tried again. "Are you awake?"

No answer. Spade walked tentatively around the edge of the bed to find that, yes, she was awake—her eyes were open, wide and unseeing, like she was in a trance. An untouched glass of orange juice sat on the bedside table, and Spade set the tray down next to it before taking a seat on the side of the bed. "How are you feeling?" he ventured.

Still no answer, no glance, no acknowledgement that he'd said anything at all. Spade sat for a moment in the still, silent room and ultimately decided that silence was welcome. Perhaps it would be easier to talk if he didn't have to look at her, if she didn't seem to be listening, didn't react.

"Um....okay," Spade began uncertainly. "I guess I should just start at the beginning, or what was the beginning for me. Stop me any time you need to." Yvonne's fixed expression made it clear that wasn't likely to happen, so Spade ploughed on. "Last night around 2000 hours, you passed out on the base. It was outside, between the main building and the compound. Corporal Thompson and Sergeant Brisson were with me—" Spade paused, feeling his throat constrict at Brisson's name "—and you walked up to us, looking sick and holding your....your stomach, and then you just....collapsed. When I tried to take you to the infirmary, Brisson wouldn't let me. He diverted us to a room on the floor below it, and that's when he told us what he thought was wrong with you."

No response. Yvonne's eyes remained locked on something only she could see. "When I found out what it was, I went and got Malik," Spade went on, deliberately not going into detail about what "it" was as the scientist had oh-so-helpfully already done that. "He came to the base and looked you over, and he thought we should bring you to the scientist who escaped with him. And they were here, with the same family I met back in '47 the night the aliens rescued those sacs. These are the people who were hiding Brivari and Jaddo, who found the sacs right before I did. So we brought you here, and the scientist...." Did what? Spade thought. Gave you an abortion? Ended the pregnancy? Got that thing out of you? ".....the scientist worked on you, and then Malik got Brivari, and he used some sort of alien healing thing on you, and....look, the bottom line is, you're okay now," Spade finished in a rush.

Still no response. Spade fidgeted on the edge of the bed for a minute before continuing. "So we filled out the paperwork to get you an emergency leave that says one of your relatives is sick. That should give us enough time to get you away from here, make you disappear. But we can't do that until you're strong enough to run, so you need to eat."

Nothing. The silence, so welcome at first, was now growing heavy. "Do you hear me, Yvonne?" Spade pleaded. "You can't go back there; you have to get away, far away, where Pierce will never find you. So you need to eat something and get dressed, and we need to find you a safe place. Please," he begged, laying a hand on her shoulder through the blanket, almost hoping she'd flinch just so that he'd know that she knew he was there. But she didn't move, didn't blink, didn't exhibit the slightest sign of recognition. This was going to take awhile.

"Well....I'll leave the soup here," Spade said after a moment. "And I'll be back tonight after dinner. Please think about what I said. When you've been gone too long, they'll get suspicious, and you need to be far away from here when that happens."

He stood up, hesitated, and then bent over to kiss her forehead. He'd just turned around when she spoke.

"How?"

Her voice was so quiet he almost missed it, would have missed it had there been any noise at all nearby. Spade stopped dead in his tracks, wondering if he'd imagined it.

"How?" she whispered again, her eyes still straight ahead.

"How....how what?" Spade asked. "How did we know what was wrong with you? How did we get you here? How—"

"How did he do it?" she said, her eyes finally moving, flicking up to rest on him. "I don't remember this, Stephen. How did Pierce do it?"

"Uh...." Spade sat down again, nervously kneading his hands in his lap. "Brisson said they knocked you out somehow."

"He knew," Yvonne whispered. "He knew right from the beginning. All the way back to when I first saw him taking my bathroom wastebasket."

"Taking your wastebasket?" Spade echoed. "When was this?"

"In the very beginning," Yvonne said faintly, "when the aliens were first captured. I caught Brisson taking the trash in my wastebasket and replacing it with something else. And then later, I thought someone had been in my desk....and I had my calendar in my desk," she continued, her voice rising, her body beginning to twitch as though anger were making her come to life. "I keep track of my period on my calendar. He must have been looking at it."

"He probably was," Spade admitted. "Yvonne, I would dearly love to wring Brisson's neck," he continued, the wild look in her eyes making him more uneasy than her previous silence, "and I know you would too. But I should tell you that he's been working against Pierce for a long time now. He said something about there being two kinds of cells, and he was switching them so you got the ones that wouldn't get you pregnant—"

"You mean I was pregnant before?" Yvonne broke in, half sitting up now. "When....oh," she breathed, her eyes wilder than ever now. "That awful period I had with all the pain....that wasn't a period! That was another pregnancy! And he tried to tell me...not just then, but back when the aliens attacked, and....he didn't," she said, sitting all the way up now, her voice crackling with hatred. "He didn't! He could have told me a million times, and he didn't!"

"I know," Spade said soothingly. "And he should have, but—"

The rest of his sentence was cut off as he jerked backwards. Yvonne had picked up the clock on the bedside table and hurled it across the room with a roar that Spade was certain was audible on Brivari's planet. The clock crashed against the wall, its casing breaking open, spilling parts on the floor beneath the hole it left in the plaster.

"Yvonne!" Spade said, grabbing her by the shoulders as she heaved in fury, looking around for something else to throw. "Yvonne!"



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



"I thought my kind wasn't allowed to eat here," Marana said.

"I never said that," the girl's mother replied, setting a bowl and spoon on the kitchen table in front of Marana. "What I said was that I wasn't going to wait on you."

"So...that's why you're making food for me?" Marana asked as the woman set a pot of something or other on the table.

"I didn't make anything for you," the woman answered tartly. "I made soup for the lieutenant and myself. If you'd like some, help yourself. If not, starve."

I'm already starving, Marana thought, eyeing the pot. Malik's absence meant she'd had nothing to eat since the meal he'd brought yesterday evening, and last night's bout with the healing stones had drained her energy even further, despite the fact that Brivari and the girl's mother had done most of the work. The woman had proven to be quite the powerhouse when it came to healing stones; it was easy to see where her daughter had gotten her talents. Perhaps it was the mother's brain she should study.

"I suppose you brought me down here because you were afraid of what I'd say," Marana said, succumbing to temptation and filling the bowl with "soup", whatever that was.

"What could you possibly say that would be any worse than what you've already said?" the woman demanded, her back to Marana as she washed dishes in the sink.

"Then why am I here?"

"Because I thought the lieutenant and the captain could use some privacy," the woman replied impatiently. "I know your people are familiar with the concept, so don't look so surprised."

"I know what you were trying to do this morning," Marana said, "but it wasn't working. She needed to hear the truth, exactly like you just told that soldier. I've been lied to, and so have you. Neither of us liked it, so both of us should be able to understand—"

"I wasn't lying!" the woman exclaimed, turning around. "Every single thing I said to her was true. I just left certain parts out because I felt Captain Spade should be the one to tell her that."

"So it was a lie of omission," Marana said dryly. "I know your people are familiar with the concept, so don't look so surprised."

"There is nothing wrong with rationing information to avoid overwhelming somebody," the woman argued, wiping her hands furiously on a towel.

"Does that work with your daughter?" Marana asked, smiling slightly as the woman began to smolder. "No, I didn't think so. Look, the healer doesn't need a parental figure, she needs an advocate who will answer her questions. Questions she was actively asking, if I recall."

"She wasn't ready to hear the whole thing," the woman insisted.

"And who decides when she's 'ready'?" Marana challenged. "You? Me? This isn't about what she wasn't ready to hear. It's about what you weren't ready to say."

"And where exactly did you get all this psychological expertise?" the woman asked in exasperation. "From your test subjects?"

"My test subjects knew they were test subjects," Marana replied calmly, "so I've never been in this situation."

"Really? That's not what my husband told me. He told me that Malik and whoever he was with ran away because someone tried to make them test subjects against their will."

Of course he did, Marana thought irritably. The woman's mate definitely had a talent for acquiring information. "That was....unfortunate," she said uncomfortably. "And rare. That's not the way testing usually occurs on my world."

"That's not the way it usually occurs on my world either," the woman said.

"So you have no business claiming superiority," Marana argued.

"Like hell I don't," the woman retorted. "I hardly think one nurse stacks up against hundreds of innocent children."

Crash! Marana's angry reply was cut off by a loud noise from above, followed by raised voices. A minute later, footsteps pounded down the stairs and the female healer charged into the kitchen, wide-eyed and panting, with the male officer from the human military base on her heels looking no better.

"What happened to me?" the healer demanded, looking straight at Marana. "What they do to me? What did you do to me?"

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Proctor," the agitated male said. "She was so quiet, and then she just—boom!"

"Tell me what they did to me!" the healer shouted as Marana stared at her in shock. "Tell me!"

"Yvonne, just calm down," the male begged, taking her arm only to have it viciously yanked away.

"Control yourself, lieutenant," the girl's mother said sharply, sounding far less motherly than she had this morning. "You won't learn anything while you're throwing a tantrum."

"A tantrum?" the healer repeated with a brittle laugh. "You think this is a tantrum? Would you like to see a real tantrum?"

Without waiting for a reply, the healer picked up the pot of soup and hurled it across the room. It crashed into the wall, leaving a colorful stripe of food running down it and three flabbergasted faces.

"And that's just the beginning," the healer said grimly. "There's plenty more where that came from if someone doesn't answer me!"



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

I'll post Chapter 128 next Sunday.

Hello to everyone reading!






CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED TWENTY-EIGHT


June 7, 1950, 12:30 p.m.

Proctor residence



Marana stared in shock at the wild-eyed healer who was spinning in a circle in her bare feet, the flimsy nightdress the girl's mother had given her flaring around her as she turned. On the other side of the room, the pot she'd just hurled rolled sideways on the floor in a puddle of soup, a thick line down the wall tracing its trajectory. Perhaps the girl's mother had been right. Perhaps this one was not in any shape to hear the information she was demanding.

"Tell me!" the furious healer shouted, turning from Marana to the gaping soldier to the girl's mother, the only member of the healer's audience who looked annoyed instead of shocked. "Tell me what happened to me!" She whirled on Marana, who drew back in alarm. "What did you do to me?"

"I....I'm not sure this is a good time to go into that," Marana replied as the girl's mother raised her eyebrows. "You need to calm down first."

"You expect me to calm down after what they did to me?" the healer thundered. "They got me pregnant! With something that wasn't even human!"

"I'm aware of that," Marana said carefully, "although I doubt it would make much difference if it had been."

"Lieutenant, you need to get a hold of yourself," the girl's mother said firmly, throwing what Malik would call a "shut-the-hell-up" look in Marana's direction. "I know you're upset, but—"

"Upset? Lady, I am way past 'upset'!" the healer fumed. "Stephen," she announced, turning on the soldier, who blanched. "How did they do it?"

"I told you how," the soldier answered. "It was at night, and they knocked you out."

"But how?" the healer demanded. "What did they use?"

"How should I know?" the soldier said, irritation creeping into his voice. "It's not like I had a lot of time to ask questions while it was happening, and it was all I could do to not strangle Brisson this morning, never mind get all the gory details."

"How did they do it?" the healer shouted.

"I told you, I don't know!" the soldier insisted. "I'll try to find out, okay? I'll ask Brisson for every last detail, but you'll have to wait until this evening when I can get away for longer."

"No!" the healer shouted. "I want to know now!" She lunged for Marana's bowl of soup, apparently intending to throw that too, but was intercepted by the girl's mother, who promptly landed a stinging slap across her face.

Silence. The healer clutched her face in horror as Marana and the soldier stared with fresh shock. The girl's mother, on the other hand, looked almost as angry as the healer had only seconds ago.

"Now, you listen to me, young lady," she said severely. "What happened to you was illegal, unethical, and absolutely unforgivable, and I hope whoever did it rots in hell. But you're not unique; lots of people all over the world have had unforgivable things happen to them in recent years. And look at you—you're alive and healthy to tell about it. Many others weren't so fortunate. Like my brother-in-law, who survived the war only to come home and put a gun in his mouth."

Her hand to a face still red from the slap, the healer's eyes widened. "Yes, that's right," the girl's mother continued. "He blew his brains all over his apartment. So forgive me if I'm impatient with this rampage of yours about how wronged you are. I'll be the first to agree you were wronged, but you've just joined a very long line, and in better shape than many, I might add. And for that, you have every single person in this room to thank, plus a few who aren't here. We busted our hind ends bringing you back from the brink, so I'd very much appreciate it if you'd stop tearing up my house and simmer down."

She was right, Marana thought, watching this exchange in disbelief. The healer was indeed not ready to hear the truth, and it appeared that, at least at the moment, she needed a parent, not an advocate. Boy, had she called that one wrong.

"Now, here's what we're going to do," the woman announced firmly. "You," she said to the gaping soldier, "are going back to the base. You will learn as much as possible about what happened to the lieutenant, and you will refrain from strangling anyone who possesses such information, at least until they've finished divulging it. You will bring this information back this evening. And you," she continued to the healer, "are going to clean up the mess you made while I make another pot of soup. Then you will sit down and have something to eat. Once you have something in your stomach and you've demonstrated that you have a grip on yourself, then and only then will you," she said to Marana, "provide the requested details. One more outburst like that, and we say nothing," she added to the healer. "Are we clear?"

Heads nodded numbly, Marana's no less numbly than anyone else's. "Good," the woman said briskly. "Captain, we'll see you later. Lieutenant, I'll get you a bucket and mop."

"I'm sorry," the healer whispered, her face ashen.

"Apology accepted," the woman said more gently this time as she handed over a pile of rags. "Here. Get up the worst of it, and then we'll mop."

The healer accepted the rags without comment and headed for the puddle of soup. The soldier dithered for a moment longer before quietly leaving, throwing one last look in the healer's direction. The girl's mother retrieved the pot from the floor, washed it, and set it on the stove. Twenty minutes later, the floor and walls were clean and all three of them were sitting at the kitchen table in peaceful silence, sipping bowls of soup. The healer kept her eyes on her bowl as though afraid to look up, but Marana watched the girl's mother with reluctant admiration until she looked up, saw that she was being observed, and fixed Marana with a challenging stare.

Marana dropped her eyes to her soup bowl and kept them there for the duration of the meal.



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



1400 hours

Eagle Rock Military Base



"Okay, I think I've got it all," Spade muttered, running a pencil down his list. "Two kinds of cells, every month for four days in a row, the sedative in the toothpaste.....wait. What was the name of the drug Pierce used?"

"We shouldn't be talking about this here," Brisson whispered, his eyes darting nervously around the bustling base mess hall. "And you definitely shouldn't be writing anything down!"

"How do you expect me to remember all this gobbledygook?" Spade demanded. "And this is the perfect place to talk about just about anything; no one pays any attention to anything here except how bad the food is. Now, what was the name of the drug?"

"What difference does it make?" Brisson said in exasperation.

"It will make a difference to Lieutenant White," Spade said firmly. "Tell me the name of the drug."

"Or what?" Brisson asked. "This morning you tried to kill me, and now you want chapter and verse? What are you going to do? Sic an alien on me?"

"Worse," Spade said flatly. "I'll sic Lieutenant White on you. The last time I saw her, she was so mad, she was throwing things. So what's it going to be, Brisson—talk to her directly, or put up with my list?"

Spade was surprised at how much color drained from Brisson's face at this query; he hadn't thought anyone could look that white and still be alive. Nevertheless, he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction that the mere notion of Yvonne hurling objects had sent Brisson into shock; it made him feel less guilty about his own incompetence this morning when her completely uncharacteristic tantrum had left him standing there like a blithering idiot.

"Uh....let me write it down for you," Brisson stammered, reaching for the notepad. "I know you won't be able to either spell it or pronounce it." Spade watched as he carefully printed a genuinely unintelligible word that looked something like Latin. "So....does this mean that she's all right?"

"If you consider throwing pots of soup against the wall 'all right', then yes, she's all right," Spade said.

Brisson's Adam's apple rose and fell twice as he swallowed hard. "Does she know what happened to her?"

"The basics," Spade answered. "All the basics that matter. Now she wants details, which is why you and I are once again enjoying each other's fine company."

"And she's....she's....she's really angry, isn't she?" Brisson whispered.

"Wouldn't you be?"

"Well, sure, but....does she know I had something to do with this?"

"She certainly does," Spade replied. "She said something about catching you stealing the trash from her bathroom wastebasket. What was that all about?"

Red, Spade thought, mentally expanding his list of colors that he didn't think humans could sport without serious illness or death. Brisson had flushed such a violent shade of crimson that he looked like he was running a raging fever. "I....I told you we had to document her....her menstrual cycle before Dr. Pierce could proceed," Brisson said, staring at the hands he held tightly clasped on the table.

"Right," Spade said, consulting his scribbles. "You said she kept track on a calendar in her desk, and she also mentioned that she thought someone had been into her desk. But what's with the wastebasket?"

"Well...before I realized she kept such good notes, the only way to keep track was to note what she...discarded."

"Brisson, you are one sick puppy," Spade said grimly.

"I am not!" Brisson protested. "I had orders!"

"And you never questioned those orders?" Spade retorted. "I know you did later—I mean in the beginning, when you were sniffing through wastebaskets like a dog. What on earth were you thinking?"

"I...I was excited," Brisson said quietly, still staring at his hands. "And flattered. Flattered that Dr. Pierce had seen fit to take me into his confidence, and excited because he said we'd be making history. And the part about Lieutenant White....well....I guess I never thought he'd actually get that far, and I was too caught up in the laboratory aspect to really question what was going on until I'd had a chance to think about it."

"So you needed to 'think about it' before you realized how sick and twisted the whole thing was?" Spade said severely. "I have news for you, Brisson—most people wouldn't need to 'think about it'. They'd just know."

"Think whatever you want about me," Brisson said, "but promise me one thing—don't tell the prisoner about this. He suspected some time ago what Pierce was up to, and he said if anything ever happened to the lieutenant, he'd....he'd kill me."

"John said that?" Spade asked.

"Quite clearly," Brisson said with feeling.

"Well, you're in luck," Spade said darkly. "Yvonne's first in line to kill you, and I'm second, so John will have to settle for third."

Brisson paled again as Spade silently regretted that, with an escape in the offing, it would be an exceptionally bad time to have John breaking anyone's neck, even if the neck in question deserved breaking. Any aggression on John's part would result in him being locked up tight, much too tight to get him out.

"Sir?"

Spade looked up to find an unfamiliar Corporal. "What is it?"

"A private just handed me a note to give to you, sir."

"Thanks," Spade said, unfolding the note, which was extremely brief: Room 162—Johnson. So David Proctor had been right; Brivari hadn't killed Malik after all, or had tried to and he'd managed to get away. "We'll finish this later," Spade said to Brisson. "I'm sure Lieutenant White will have more questions."

"Captain?"

"What?"

"The next time you see the lieutenant," Brisson said slowly, "would you tell her for me how very sorry I am about all this? I know it probably won't do much good, but....would you tell her anyway?"

"Sure," Spade said. "I'll tell her. But if I were you, I wouldn't get your hopes up."

"Right," Brisson whispered. "Well...thanks anyway."

Spade walked out of the mess hall fighting a rising wave of sympathy at Brisson's hangdog expression. Don't, he ordered himself severely. Brisson deserved to have his ass kicked from here to the aliens' planet for his part in what had happened to Yvonne, and if he was finally realizing that, so much the better. Perhaps the guy wasn't a total loss after all.

Room 162 turned out to be a storage room in the basement, and Spade paused outside, suspicious. Why did Malik want to meet here? Was he worried Brivari would find him? Or....Spade tensed as he realized there was no way to know who awaited him in that room. There were four aliens at large and appearances meant nothing; if he opened the door to find "Private Johnson", it might be either Malik or one of the enemy aliens, who might very well know Malik's human pseudonym.

Spade glanced around the hallway; there was no one in sight, no one to hear him if something happened to him, and he was unarmed. Leaving wasn't an option; the message could be real, and he and Malik certainly had things to discuss. Perhaps he should go back to the compound and get his tranquilizer rifle? No, that would look awfully suspicious over here. Something else then? A trip up and down the hallway uncovered a toolbox; Spade grabbed a large wrench, stuffed it in his pocket, and headed back to the storeroom. It wasn't much, but perhaps he could play along in the beginning until he found out what was up and catch them unawares if they were enemies. His hand around the wrench in his pocket, he cautiously opened the storeroom door.

The light spilling in the from the hallway only illuminated a short ways past the door; Spade fumbled for the light switch before stepping slowly inside. It wasn't a large room, and it didn't take long to figure out that no one was here. So why the note? Maybe they weren't here yet? Or were they trying to distract him while they pulled something else?

Then the door swung closed behind him, and Spade whirled around just in time to see two shapes literally melting out of the wall.



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



Proctor residence



"So that's about it," the girl's mother said. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait for Captain Spade to come back to learn more."

Seated across the table, swathed in a robe and "slippers" that the woman had fetched for her, the nurse nodded, her long dark hair falling about her face. There hadn't been much to tell about what had happened to her after she'd been brought here; all Marana had done was end the pregnancy, a simple procedure, even simpler in humans. She could only speculate on how Brivari had done what he had done, and she very much doubted he'd be willing to describe it for the nurse even if she started throwing things again.

Which she hadn't. The nurse had eaten her soup in silence, and when they had finished, had listened in silence as Marana and the girl's mother detailed what they knew. She appeared more numb than calm, and it was impossible to tell if she was truly lucid, but silence was preferable to hurling objects any day.

"Do you have any questions, dear?" the girl's mother was asking.

Marana, who was privately doubtful that the nurse was currently capable of forming a coherent question, was surprised when one came immediately. "How did Brivari heal me?" she asked, looking directly at Marana.

"I....I'm not sure," Marana admitted, ignoring the look from the girl's mother and hoping against hope that she wasn't going to blurt out exactly why Brivari could do what he could do. "He...Brivari has talents the rest of us don't have."

"Because he's the King's Warder?" the nurse asked.

"Uh...yes," Marana answered, shocked to hear an Antarian title from this stranger. "He could tell you more. If he's willing," she added.

The nurse nodded slowly before turning to the girl's mother. "What did you do with....whatever it was I delivered?"

"I was going to bury it," the woman replied, "but Brivari, he....well, he turned it into the same kind of dust that their bodies turn into when they die. So I sprinkled it over one of the flower beds out back."

"I remember the dust," the nurse said, her eyes far away. "We were doing the first autopsy, and I was hoping to keep them away from Urza. Brivari had said they could help him if they made it back, but...." She paused, closing her eyes briefly. "The body we were working on just...collapsed. Bones, organs, blood samples.....everything. And then they started on Urza all the faster because they knew the same thing would happen to him. I couldn't stop them."

"Of course you couldn't," the woman said soothingly. "You did what you could; you're not responsible for anything beyond that."

"Urza," Marana whispered. "Urza was....alive when you saw him?"

"Maybe we should talk about this some other time," the girl's mother suggested.

"He was badly injured," the nurse said quietly. "They said they couldn't help the other one because he had head wounds, but they were going to come back for Urza. And then he lost consciousness, and they never made it back, and...." Her voice trailed off, her face almost as white as it had been before.

The other one... "Who....who was the 'other one'?" Marana asked haltingly. "Was that....was that Valeris?"

"I really think we should save this conversation for later," the woman interjected.

"I think that was his name," the nurse said. "He was dead when they brought him in. Gunshot wounds. He surrendered to Stephen—Captain Spade," she clarified. "But one of the other soldiers panicked and....I'm sorry," she finished when she saw the stricken look on Marana's face. "I'm really sorry."

"That's enough," the girl's mother said firmly, rising to her feet. "Lieutenant, I want you to go back upstairs. You've had quite enough excitement for now, and there's no use fretting over things that happened years ago and were out of your control. Go on," she prodded. "I can see you're tired, and you want to be rested when Captain Spade comes back with whatever information he's gathered, don't you?"

That last question hit a chord with the nurse, who rose immediately and gave the woman a longing look. "I'll be right up," the woman assured her. "Go ahead—I'll only be a minute behind you."

"What's the matter, Mrs. Proctor?" Marana said coldly even before the nurse's footsteps had faded up the stairs. "Don't you want to hear the nasty details about how one of the greatest scientific minds of my world was murdered by your own people?"

"Oh, no you don't," the girl's mother said sharply. "You're not changing the subject. This is about her, and the fact that she's still fragile now. She has enough problems of her own without adding yours to the list."

"Yes, she does have 'problems'," Marana replied frostily. "Problems which, if I remember correctly, can be traced back to your people."

"Keep tracing," the woman retorted. "This all started when your people came here uninvited. Every single thing that has happened since then stems from that decision."

"Yes, every single thing," Marana said pointedly. "Even the good things, like your daughter's life being saved. Like this female's life being saved."

"Lives that wouldn't have needed saving if your people hadn't come here in the first place," the woman argued. "I don't condone my people's behavior, but at least in this case it was someone who panicked and made a mistake instead of a systematic campaign to use people against their will. I approve of neither, but I'll take the former to the latter any day."

"Oh, now who's changing the subject?" Marana demanded. "Your military kills someone who's surrendering, and that's all right with you? You approve of that kind of waste, of—"

"Don't you dare!" the woman snapped, absolutely furious now. "I have opposed our military's handling of this situation from the very beginning, which is why we were willing to help in the first place, and believe me, we have been to hell and back several times for bothering. That's why you're here now, why I didn't put my foot down and throw you to the wolves. I know those wolves and what they'd do to you, and I don't approve of that any more than I approve of what you did to those children."

Marana glared at her in sullen silence, nursing the grudge that was growing about Valeris' fate. She'd known he was dead, of course—Malik had delivered that news while she was still on Antar—but she'd never heard the details. To think that a scientist of Valeris' reputation had lost his life so ignominiously on a backward world full of people who didn't understand the concept of surrender was almost too much to bear.

"And one more thing," the woman added, as Marana drew back in case 'one more thing' involved another slap. "I didn't know this 'Valeris', but I'm willing to bet he wouldn't have considered his death a waste. His surrender was what convinced Captain Spade and that nurse to help your people; without them your royalty wouldn't be safe, Brivari wouldn't have escaped, and Jaddo wouldn't be alive right now. A Warder's first job is to keep his Ward alive, and his second job is to keep his fellow Warders alive. Valeris' death accomplished both, and if I can figure that out, I certainly shouldn't have to explain that to you."

The girl's mother swept out of the kitchen leaving a trail of disgust in her wake. Marana waited until she was upstairs before picking up her spoon and hurling it against the recently cleaned far wall. It didn't make quite the satisfying thunk the pot had made, but it calmed her down enough that she could focus on the salient point in the woman's harangue: She had once again referenced the hybrids. Emily Proctor had seen the hybrids and likely knew where they were hidden. Marana made a silent vow that she was going to drag that information out of her no matter what it took.



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Eagle Rock Military Base



Spade whipped the wrench out of his pocket and held it over his head, ready to strike at whatever was oozing out of the wall. Two shapes..., he thought as the ooze separated. Two shapes was not good. Then the shapes grew arms, legs, heads....and turned into Malik and Brivari.

"Sorry," Malik apologized. "We didn't meant to startle you, but we had to be sure it was you."

Spade's eyes darted back and forth, the wrench still in the air. Both wore the same faces they always did when they approached him, but that meant nothing. And the notion that Brivari and Malik would be voluntarily keeping company was downright odd.

"You can put that down now, captain," Malik said gently. "It's just us."

"The captain is not sure of that....nor should he be," Brivari said approvingly. "When I left the Proctor's house this morning, you were still asleep," he continued. "David Proctor said he would wake you in time to return to the base before suspicions were aroused by the Healer's absence."

Spade lowered the wrench in relief. "It is you. Both of you. I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be in the same room with Malik without trying to kill him. Did hell freeze over when I wasn't looking?"

"Amusing," Brivari said, sounding distinctly unamused. "Did anyone follow you?"

"Not that I know of," Spade answered. "Why?"

"Orlon and Amar are here," Malik answered. "Upstairs in the mess hall, probably waiting for you or Lieutenant White to meet Brivari there like you frequently do. That's why we had to resort to sending notes."

Spade blinked as he realized that he and Brisson had been discussing Pierce's attempt to create an alien-human mutt with aliens right there in the room. "Are they...have they been following me?" he asked, reeling from the notion that there were two competing sets of aliens skulking around the base. "Did they follow me to the Proctor's when I went there this morning?"

"They do not appear to be following you at present," Brivari answered, "nor did they follow you when you left this morning."

"How is Lieutenant White?" Malik asked.

"Well enough to throw things," Spade replied. "Last time I saw her, she was hopping mad and hurling objects. Hopefully she'll have calmed down when I go back this evening."

"Then she has recovered," Brivari said with satisfaction. "I have always used temper as a measure of recovery for Jaddo. What effect will her absence have on Jaddo's escape?"

"None, really," Spade answered. "She was going to provide Thompson and me with alibi's, but that's not absolutely necessary. Otherwise, nothing changes. If we do it right, we should have at least an hour before anyone notices he's gone."

"And now we have the added problem of Orlon and Amar, who will no doubt be here around the clock," Brivari said. "Which calls for another set of eyes that can recognize them. Malik will be joining us. We can revise our plans this evening when you leave the base."

"How will I find you?" Spade asked, noting the look of surprise on Malik's face.

"You won't," Brivari answered. "We'll find you. And captain, be very careful about any discussions you have. The public spaces we have all used in the past are no longer safe. The safest place is the compound because Orlon and Amar are unable to enter there. If I need to contact you on the base, I will meet you in your quarters. We will wear the forms we now wear when we approach you, so be suspicious of anyone who claims to be one of us but does not take the correct form. Wait several minutes," he added to Malik, "then join me outside the hangar."

"So," Spade said after Brivari had cautiously inspected the hallway before leaving. "You've certainly risen in the ranks."

"News to me," Malik said. "Last I knew, he was still deciding what to do with me.

"What happened last night?"

"He knocked me out," Malik answered. "I woke up with one of the allies he's been staying with holding a gun on me. I guess he kept me alive to see if I was telling the truth."

"And to make sure you didn't follow him if you weren't," Spade said, sitting down on a nearby box. "Just like Proctor said. That guy's shrewd. I bet he made one hell of an officer during the war. So what happened when Brivari came back for you?"

"The usual," Malik shrugged. "He accused me of being a traitor, and I told him I had good reasons and would do it all over again, and so on, and so forth. And then he just.....stopped. We went to where Amar and I have been living, but they weren't there, of course, and then we came here. We've been following them around ever since."

"Do you think he finally believes your accusations against the king?"

"He might," Malik allowed, "or he might realize that he can't pull this off without me, not with Amar and Orlon out there. I don't know what he's thinking....and I don't care. I know what was happening, and whether or not Brivari believes it doesn't change anything. We'll hash that out after we get Jaddo out of here." He glanced back at the door through which Brivari had just left. "Brivari and I have to be careful not to be seen together, or Orlon will realize that either Marana or me survived. And you need to be careful too," he added. "You have no way of knowing who you're really talking to."

"Wonderful," Spade muttered. "So where are they in the mess hall? Which table?"

"Does that matter?"

"You bet it does," Spade said. "If I get a look at what faces they're wearing, I might recognize them if they wear that face again."

"It might be better if you don't know," Malik said.

"How is ignorance 'better'?" Spade asked.

"Don't do anything stupid, captain," Malik warned. "If they so much as think you've recognized them, they'll kill you, just like they killed one of your men a couple of years ago, remember?"

"Of course I remember," Spade said impatiently, privately doubting that he'd ever forget the snapped neck Treyborn had earned when he'd realized aliens were attacking at the end of '47. "I'm not going near them; I just want a look. Where are they?"

Malik regarded him skeptically for a moment before answering. "Fifth table on the left, middle aisle. Facing each other on the near end. Make certain they don't see you. We may be able to forego Lieutenant White's help, but we can't afford to lose yours."

"Wait," Spade said as Malik carefully checked the hallway outside. "I've already thanked Brivari, but he wouldn't have been around to thank without you. You took a huge risk going after him like that. You saved Yvonne's life. Thank you."

Malik smiled faintly. "I'm afraid I'm not as altruistic as you give me credit for. As delighted as I am that Lieutenant White has recovered, I didn't risk my life to save her; I risked my life to preserve the allies we need to free Jaddo before our enemies arrive. I risked my life for my world, not your lieutenant. Sorry."

"I'm not," Spade said. "I don't care what you did it for—I'm just glad you did."

Malik nodded before leaving just like Brivari had, disappearing around a bend to the right, his feet making no sound on the tile floor. Spade headed back upstairs, feeling himself stiffen every time he passed another soldier. Were they still in the mess hall, or had they gone looking for him? The paranoia that rose at the notion of being tailed by someone you couldn't recognize was powerful, almost debilitating. For the first time since last night, he was actually glad that Yvonne wasn't here right now.

Spade reached the mess hall doors and stood carefully off to one side, peering through the windows. Middle aisle....fifth table on the left......there. Two men, one older, one younger, facing each other in silence as they ate. He studied them carefully for several minutes, memorizing what he could see of their faces and looking for clues, anything that could tip him off in the future, and was surprised to find as many anomalies as he did. For example, the men were sitting apart from everyone else and weren't talking to each other. Their eyes darted around the room, flitting from their trays to the room and back, covering the entire mess hall as one faced one way, one the other. The younger man was facing the door, and as his eyes did another sweep of the room, his gaze fell on Spade, and their eyes locked.



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*He's looking at me!* Amar said incredulously, watching Spade at the mess hall door. *Do you think he knows?*

*Who is looking at you?* Orlon asked, turning around just as Spade's gaze swung sideways. *Is that Brivari's ally?*

*The one named 'Spade', and he was staring at me!* Amar exclaimed. *Do you suppose Brivari identified us to him?*

*What for?* Orlon asked. *He can't rely on our physical forms for identification. Besides, he's searching the entire room, not staring at you. You're imagining things.*

*I am not!* Amar said hotly. *He was looking right at me!*

*How could you tell who or what he's looking at from this distance?* Orlon said impatiently. *Stay on the subject, Amar. We're here to find Brivari, not obsess over his allies.*

Amar bolted from his bench and ran for the mess hall door, ignoring both the startled yelps of passing soldiers and Orlon's demand to stop. When one spent one's life in hiding, one acquired a very well-developed sense of when one had been discovered, and that sense had just sent every nerve in his body screaming that he'd been identified. This soldier had managed to recognize him both times he had infiltrated the compound, both as a dog and in Walker's form. Amar had no intention of allowing that to happen again.

Spade was just approaching the door of the main building when Amar caught up with him, whipping around from behind and planting himself in front of the door, watching carefully for any sign of recognition on Spade's face. "Private?" Spade said in surprise. "Is something wrong?"

Amar said nothing, staring at Spade defiantly, willing him to buckle. When Spade continued to display nothing more than puzzlement, Amar walked directly up to him. "You know what I am, don't you?" he demanded.

"I certainly do," Spade said, his eyebrows rising. "You're a private in the United States Army who's behaving very strangely at the moment. And with a superior officer, I might add. Back up."

Amar didn't move. A small crowd was gathering, attracted by violence as all humans were. "Private....Andrews," Spade said firmly, reading Amar's uniform, "I don't know what your problem is, but I'm ordering you to back up."

Murmurs rose from the crowd. Behind Spade, Orlon was glowering amongst the throng. Amar held Spade's gaze for several moments longer, but his eyes had gone hard, betraying nothing more than annoyance that was quickly approaching anger. Reluctantly, Amar stepped back.

"That's better," Spade said. "Now, what the hell was all that about?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Amar said stiffly. "My mistake."

"One I hope you don't make a habit of repeating," Spade said. "Other officers might not be so forgiving." He stepped around Amar and left the building, shaking his head in disgust. Soldiers watching began to wander away, the show being over. Soon only Amar and Orlon were left.

*Brilliant,* Orlon said stonily. *He didn't know who you were before, but I'll wager he suspects now.*

*He recognized me!* Amar insisted. *And this isn't the first time. We should kill him before he has the chance to recognize us again.*

*Don't be ridiculous,* Orlon admonished. *However unwittingly, Brivari's allies serve us also—they have kept Jaddo alive. Your paranoia will never excuse a dead Warder who will be no help in finding the hybrids.*

*But—* Amar began.

*Stop it!* Orlon said sharply. *So what if he did recognize us? Wear a different face and stop causing public mayhem. We're supposed to be invisible, Amar, not calling attention to ourselves.*

*So what if we call attention to ourselves?* Amar retorted. *Like you said, just wear a different face.*

*You miss my point,* Orlon said severely. *I have no doubt that Brivari has apprised his allies of our presence here, and you can be certain that officer will report this to him; you weren't exactly cryptic. One more incident like this, and I swear I will sedate you myself. Are we clear?*

Amar nodded in furious silence as they left the building. He's good, he thought, watching Spade's retreating form in the distance. Spade had never flinched, never reacted, never dropped so much as one clue that he knew who Amar was. But it hadn't been enough. He knows, Amar thought. I know he does.

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I'll post Chapter 129 next Saturday because I'll be busy on Easter. Happy Easter and Passover to everyone!