Orion Chronicles

The Black Suns, Volume 1

RR Morris

Published by Roy Morris, 2023.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

ORION CHRONICLES

First edition. July 2, 2023.

Copyright © 2023 RR Morris.

Written by RR Morris.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-one

Twenty-two

Twenty-three

Twenty-four

Twenty-five

Twenty-six

Twenty-seven

Twenty-eight

Twenty-nine

Thirty

Thirty-one

Thirty-two

Thirty-three

Thirty-four

Thirty-five

Thirty-six

Thirty-seven

Thirty-eight

Thirty-nine

Forty

A Note from the Author

A Sample Read | Do synthetic beings have electronic souls...

One

We usually buy into the myth that the world is okay, and the things we take for granted will be waiting for us when the sun rises. Then something happens that turns our life inside out. What makes it worse for me is I can’t recall how it happened. Sergeant Jack McMasters, ETS Agent

2054: The ET Toiyabe Base, California

Cryogenic Storage held a special interest for McMasters after Sergeant Dustin VanPelt appeared under his radar as a possible human spy for an aggressive extraterrestrial species. VanPelt’s unwarranted trips to Sublevel 7 Cryogenics heightened his suspicions even further when a classified flash drive came up missing.

Jack stepped into the elevator, pushed the number seven button, and experienced momentary weightlessness as it plunged downward. When patrolling below level-one headquarters, regulations required personnel to wear a full security tactical uniform. Code included a helmet and a smoke tinted face shield with a built-in night vision device. It also provided a heads-up display that gave rear and side video perspectives. A facial recognition program identified each ET assigned there along with their background data. Voice-activation controlled all functions on the HUD.

Headquarters mandated ETS agents to carry an Inspection and Enforcement Authorization Pass filed before venturing into sublevel two through eight. This directive was as much for personal safety as it was regulatory. With deep concern over VanPelt catching wind that he was on to him, he decided against applying for an IEAP.

The elevator door opened on Sublevel 7. Jack peered out into a shadowy, dim-lit vestibule and scanned for alien presence. An ID badge pinned to his uniform coated with a bioluminescent chemical created a faint green glow identifying him as security. It annoyed the Draconian reptilians when base security intruded into their space whether they had a need to be there or not. He made his approach to the first hall on his right. Navigating was difficult because of the dim lighting conditions, prompting him to turn on his night-vision-device. Reptoids and large grays preferred diffused lighting because of the average daytime brightness on their home world was equivalent to twilight here on Earth.

The ETs were mostly scientist types assigned here on the secret Toiyabe Base located in the Humboldt-Toiyabe National Mountain Range inside the eastern border of California. Level 7 held numerous varieties of human and alien specimens kept in stasis or frozen in cryogenic tanks.

Jack made his way down a long hallway, glancing at his HUD’s rearview display for any ET presence. An informant mentioned seeing VanPelt going into Bay 9, east hall, on the 7th level. Jack felt confident he would find him there.

He stopped, alarmed by the clatter of a door opening down the hall ahead of him and glanced up to see Bay 9 next to him. In true clandestine manner, he slipped through the door and backed into a corner. The lithe sound of footsteps belonging to a large gray came toward his location, and after it faded past the elevators, he moved ahead.

Jack’s eyes gravitated to the stasis-pods that gave off dull bluish-white lights beneath clear plastic oval shaped domes. While passing them, he noticed full-bodied human extraterrestrials mixed in with a few other biped non-human species. Judging by some of the body types, the ETs appeared to be from systems thousands of light years from Earth. Just ahead was the cryogenic tank holding area, thirty-six in all. Each one measured six feet in diameter by ten feet in height, stainless steel, categorized by DNA samplings, internal organs, limbs, and whole cadavers.

He heard voices and ducked behind a pod. The dialect sounded Draconian, a dangerous reptoid hostile species. All humanoid reptilian genus lacked tails and breathed through twin slits for nostrils at the end of a short stubby muzzle. Its smaller head appeared less proportionate to their tall, slender muscular body. Keen gator-like forward looking eyes shaped into vertical slits could adjust to most ambient light levels. Their gray and charcoal leathery skin was common in their breed though some tend to be darker around their chest and thigh areas.

Jack crept closer to the voices. He wasn’t very adept in Draconian linguistics but knew enough to recognize some dialogue, and it was helpful that he could identify VanPelt’s voice. His cohort spoke Draconian with surprising fluidity. He switched on his digital translator, his eyes squeezing down in displeasure listening to what was said.

“I’ll deliver the documents, schematics, and security codes on the GSDV Scanners this afternoon,” VanPelt said.

His Draconian collaborator was cloaked in darkened shadows beside the cryo-tanks, unrecognizable, resonating a raspy irritation in his voice. “I’ll be expecting them. No slip ups this time.”

After hearing the rear door close, Jack stood, pulling his M6 weapon and held it behind his back as he rounded the nearest tank. An M6 has two selections: the first was a powerful particle beam and the second, a neuralizer. He rarely used the particle beam setting in security situations considering its incredible destructive capabilities. In the neuralizer position, it shoots a high-velocity dissolving pellet that neutralizes the nervous system after lodging beneath the skin, causing paralysis. It has two settings, minimum and maximum. On the low setting, the effects are non-injurious and temporary but on high can be deadly.

VanPelt had his back to him in full security uniform identical to his own. He appeared engrossed in reading several classified files identified by a thin red line on the left side of the text.

“Dustin,” Jack said, his voice amplifying through a speaker mounted in the outside skin of the helmet, “hand over the flash drive.”

VanPelt froze, trying not to overreact and turned to face the tinted face shield with McMasters stenciled on the front of the helmet. “Why Jack, what brings you down here?” He extended his arm and handed him the flash drive.

“We both know why I’m here... to catch a treasonous double crossing son of a bitch.”

“Treasonous is somewhat harsh, don’t you think, Jack?”

“If the shoe fits... what else would you call giving away national security information to the ETs?” Jacks eyes alternated between the flash drive and VanPelt to make sure he was handed the right one.

“There’s a bit of a problem with your facts. In order for me to be a traitor, I’d have to be a loyal American or at least loyal to Earth which is neither the case.”

“Quit being so damn cryptic, say it out.”

“Okay... technically I am a citizen. You see, Jack, I was born here but raised on Alpha Draconis.”

“What?”

“When I was nine years old, my human parents took me on a camping trip. A Drac recon patrol came across our campsite, killed my mother and father and carried me back to their ship. But I wasn’t a guest; I was supposed to be the main course for dinner. As you know, Draconians have an acquired taste for human flesh, especially children.”

“And?”

“The ship commander took a liking to me, spared me... raised me like a son.”

“How did you manage to get a security clearance?”

“Easy, the Dracs gathered all of our personal possessions including my human father’s wallet with a driver’s license in it. Upon arriving back here on Earth, I searched my father’s license and found his social security number, his history and soon after, my short past. A key-punching geek used a computer to create my history between the age of nine and when I returned here. I sent for a copy of my American birth certificate and joined the Air Force. That’s pretty much it.”

“Jesus, you’re more of a threat than I thought. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t copy the data onto another flash drive instead of stealing the original.”

“I tried but with all the operatives moving about and with headquarters open twenty-four hours a day, it was impossible to pull it off. After we got the intelligence we needed, I intended to return it. My downfall was I didn’t anticipate you, Jack.”

Jack exposed his weapon. “Hand over your M6, you’re coming with me,” he growled. The HUD alerted him to movement on his left. He made his way next to the cryo-tank to his right, keeping VanPelt well within his line-of-sight.

VanPelt’s helmet and face shield shimmered from the dull glow of the stasis pods as he followed him with his eyes. “I like you, Jack. Why did you have to go all 007 on me?”

“That’s easy, it’s my job. I’m very disappointed in you, Dustin.”

VanPelt pulled his M6 to hip level like a cowboy in a western movie, smooth and fast. “You do realize I can’t let you leave here alive.” He chuckled. “You should’ve shot me while you had the chance.”

Jack crept toward the cryo-tank aiming his weapon at him. “I guess this is a standoff.”

“Maybe — and maybe not... I’d like to introduce you to an associate of mine.”

“We meet again, Sergeant McMasters,” a voice said from the shadows as he ambled from behind a cryo-tank. “I came back when I sensed your presence. Commander Versallus told me of your ravenous appetite for meddling. You’ve got no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into here.” His English dripped with the Draconis accent pronouncing the letter ‘S’ with a sizzling hiss. The ‘Rs’ rolled off his tongue like water on wax paper as the V-sounds snapped to the forefront.

General Vullen! “Stop right there, or I’ll shoot,” Jack exclaimed. He gazed into Vullen’s fiery eyes behind a full-helmeted mask, a façade shaped into the facial features of a Draconian reptilian. Vullen dressed out in full length black jacket and trousers with lightweight grayish-blue body armor, not one trace of skin exposed anywhere. He wore the uniform of the Black Suns, a syndicate of ET professionals trained in interstellar assassination and espionage. His larger-than-life stature eclipsed the room with ruthless intimidation.

Even though Jack had his neuralizer on the stun setting, he had to be convincing that it was set to kill.

“Do it and you’re a dead man,” VanPelt said, aiming his gun at Jack.

“You are interfering with my plans, McMasters. I cannot allow that,” Vullen said in a calm tone.

Jack made a calculated decision to fight his way back to headquarters, wanting to get the flash drive into safe hands. He spun, dropped to one knee, pointed the M6 at VanPelt and fired. As VanPelt fell to the floor, he fired back. Searing pain drilled through Jack’s chest followed by a tremendous blast from the other side of the bay. Intense heat and billowing flames consumed him as noxious fumes burned his nostrils like some vile industrial chemical spill. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Vullen’s merciless masked persona peering down at him.

“Doctor Wayans,” a voice cried out. He turned slipping the medical chart under his arm as a middle-aged woman rushed toward him. Her long salt and pepper hair trailed over her back, her eyes angular with emotional pain. “Mrs. McMasters, I looked for you in the waiting room but —”

“Didn’t the nurse at the desk tell you I was sitting with Jack?”

“No, I’m sorry. Please, follow me.” Wayans led her to an empty examination room, allowing her to enter first and shut the door. “Have a seat, Mary,” he said, pulling up another chair across from her, and slipped on his glasses to study Jack’s medical chart. He could feel the weight of his eyes drawing down with regret knowing he would have to deliver bad news about her son. “Did Jack ever complain about any stomach or chest pain since being in the Air Force?”

“No, never.”

“His record shows that he’s thirty-two years old, a Technical Sergeant and divorced.”

“Jack married that woman four years ago after I forbade their union. The marriage was a disaster before it even started. She was horrible — just horrible.”

“Any children?”

“No, thank God, they divorced over irreconcilable differences.”

“Over his job?”

“That was part of it.” Her hands trembled as she covered her mouth, her eyes welling with tears hardly able to draw a breath. “I’m losing him, I can feel it.”

“It does no good to think that way, Mary. We need to keep a positive outlook for Jack.”

“Yes, of course, you’re right. It’s just that he looks like he’s in so much pain with all the bandages covering his face, neck, and arms.” She whimpered. “And he’s not responsive at all.”

“Jack is asleep and will be for a while. I prescribed a strong sedative after our first treatment. Mary, I’m sorry, but the prognosis for a full recovery doesn’t look very good. He sustained severe third-degree burns over thirty percent of his body. Fortunately, skin grafts weren’t necessary. But we had to begin immediate stem-cell therapy over the damaged areas. We coated his epidermis with a special medical grade latex formula. It’ll protect his dermis layer until it heals.

“There’s a possibility of brain damage and for some unknown reason, his central nervous system just shut down, except for his vitals like respiratory and heart functioning. He’s quadriplegic and doesn’t respond to any physical stimuli unless we prick his skin with a needle — he can feel that. There’s no injury to the bone structure of the spine, but it seems both his nervous system and motor control are under attack.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks and she covered her face with her hands. “Oh my God.”

“We’ll do our best for him. Can I get you some water?” he said in a soft tone.

She shook her head, straightened up, and reached into her purse to retrieve a tissue to wipe her eyes.

“I’m sorry to have to deliver such bad news but I felt you should know.”

She smiled, the pain in her eyes evident. “And I appreciate that... Jack seemed so upbeat when he left for work this morning. I know nothing about his job except that he’s in Intelligence or something. He could only come home every other weekend. He tells me he works in an office on a secret base somewhere. How can this happen in an office? What could have caused it?”

“Usually a nervous system dysfunction of this type is caused by damage to the spinal cord, a stroke, or from a certain type of head injury. But we’ve found no evidence for either of those. The burns are odd and his head and hands are very swollen. We’re maintaining a regimen of antibiotics and cold compresses. We are investigating possible damage in the cerebral motor cortex region of the brain. He can’t speak but he can hear and understands verbal interactions. So, if you say something to him, he’ll respond by blinking his eyes once for yes and twice for no.”

“When will you know something?”

“We won’t know much more until the rest of the tests come back. There is always hope, Mary. This veteran’s hospital has some very talented practitioners and we have a wide knowledge-base to draw from here.” He gave her a reassuring smile with his eyes. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest. Nurse Chandler will call you if there is any change. Come back in the morning. I usually start my rounds at eight o’clock. We’ll talk more then.”

She nodded, pulled out another tissue to wipe her eyes and nose, stood and left.

Two

Later that evening, Nurse Chandler entered Jack’s room followed by a candy striper. “How’re you doing, Jack?” Chandler asked, exposing a bright cheery smile while leaning over him, fluffing the sides of his pillow.

He blinked once for ‘okay.’

“That’s my man. Cindy will replace your intravenous pouch and check your blood pressure.” Chandler noticed his eyes twitching and fluttering. “I know you’re having a lot of discomfort and being wrapped in gauze isn’t helping. You’ll get better, you’ll see. Is there anything I can get you? Some water perhaps, a Popsicle, an extra blanket or maybe turn on the TV?”

He blinked once.

“Okay, which would you like?” she asked, pausing between words. “Water — Popsicle — blanket or TV?”

He blinked once after TV.

“Good, that’ll get your mind off of things for a while. Your mother was in here earlier and told me you love the 49ers.” She smiled, gazing at him through the corners of her eyes. “The Green Bay Packers are playing them on Thursday Night Football.” She pushed the button on the remote. “There you are.”

Chandler observed Cindy replacing his intravenous pouch and then glanced at the monitor for vitals. Then she aimed a digital temperature sensor at a small un-bandaged spot on his forehead and wrote her findings in the log. “Say, I heard the 49er’s has taken Rick Davis off injured reserve. Davis should be the starting quarterback tonight. That ought to be exciting.”

Cindy nodded, signaling that she had finished and walked toward the door.

“I’ll be back in a little while to check on you,” she said, following Cindy out.

Jack devoted his attention to the game hoping to relieve his anxiety over his injuries though he couldn’t recall ever liking the sport much. And as for his mother, he could only visualize a shadowy silhouette of her. Beyond that, his memory was like oil on a windowpane — very blurry.

Green Bay had just made a touchdown and they were going for the two-pointer when the audio crackled, the video went to snow, and the screen went black. The absence of sound unnerved him. Jack’s eyes rotated hard left, then right, roaming the empty space. Suddenly, a male voice called out from behind the left side of his bed. “Jack.”

Jack’s eyes jerked left and right, trying to determine if someone had sneaked in his room without notice.

“Easy Jack, I’m a friend.” The man walked to the foot of the bed and looked down at him with compassionate deep green almond-shaped eyes. The stranger had on pressed black slacks, a white shirt and a casual black sports jacket. He appeared to be Caucasian in his late twenties, his face plump and youthful with medium-length brown hair groomed with gel and combed back.

“My name is Logan Pyke. I’m a special agent at a facility where you work as an ETS Agent. You are here because of paralysis, severe burns, and memory loss. I know you can‘t speak so please listen. By the look in your eyes, I can tell you have questions — questions that I can answer. But you have answers to questions that I need to avert a catastrophic attack on this country. It’s hidden, locked away somewhere in your head, and it’s imperative that we get those answers before it’s too late. I need your help. Blink once if you are willing to go on with this.”

Jack did so out of curiosity.

“What I’m about to say next will be hard for you to comprehend. I’m not from this world, but I want to assure you that we are here to help — having said that, I’d like to re-introduce you to a colleague of ours. You won’t remember her, but both of us have worked with you on several cases.”

Jack’s eye’s shifted to his right, noticing a dim bluish luminance radiating on the wall. A blue semi-transparent ball-shaped orb the size of an orange passed through it. The shimmering sphere moved toward him, stopped midair emitting a soft, warm glow.

How are you feeling, Jack?

The feminine voice exploded inside his head, his eyes enlarging, blinking from becoming emotionally distressed.

“Jack, it’s all right,” Logan said in assurance. “Remember, we are your friends. I apologize for the shock, but we don’t have the luxury of time to get to know each other all over again. My real name is Ahkatu Ersoma, and this glowing inanimate ball of luster between us is Simjase’akiza, Sims for short, a nickname you gave her. It’s necessary for her to appear this way so she can analyze your injuries. So our first task will be to get your voice back. Sims needs to enter your mind, so relax.”

Jack blinked once.

I’m glad you are still alive old friend. Are you ready?

He blinked once.

Communicate with me through thought if you like.

Jack gazed at the glowing orb defying gravity, hesitant to try telepathy, feeling anxious over the strange situation he found himself experiencing. But then again, he had nothing to lose at this point except his mind, which at the moment seemed questionable anyway.

You must promise not to call out after I heal you or I will have to mute your voice and that may be rather painful. Do you understand, Jack?

Yes.

Sims discharged a powerful white light that flooded his face and neck with pulsating strobes of blue arcs of energy. The lightning-like low voltage arcs passed through a focused yellow beam, concentrating on three places that alternated between the forehead, jaw line and upper throat. After ten cycles, the light ceased.

“All right Jack, try it,” Logan said.

“I — I, oh my God I can talk! You have no idea how liberating this feels.” He looked at the blue sphere in awe. “How did you do that?”

It’s complicated. There are more pressing issues to discuss right now, Sims said.

“What’s this about me being an ETS agent... what is an ETS agent?”

Logan leaned on the foot-rail of the bed. “ETS stands for Extraterrestrial Tracking and Security. You work at the secret ET Toiyabe Base in eastern California. You discovered another agent was passing national security information to an egregious alien reptilian being. The agent’s name was Dustin VanPelt and to make matters worse, you went into a restricted area looking for him without an IEA pass. What little we’ve been able to ascertain so far, both of you discharged your weapons simultaneously. He died from a gas tank explosion and you were severely injured. Right now, an assassin might be on their way here to finish the job. You know too much.”

“Who would want to kill me?” he groaned.

“They are called chameleons, a humanoid reptilian breed of mercenaries who collude with the Knights of the Black Suns. In their natural state, chameleons lack hair and have leathery skin with reptilian organs, but they can shape-shift to appear human. It’s hard to tell the difference. The only way to know for sure is to shine a direct beam of light into their eyes to check for a slit-shaped pupil.”

“Black Suns, what is that?”

“A specialized syndicate composed of many different alien races — paid espionage agents, assassins... very hostile and very dangerous.”

“This is all a bunch of BS, an illusion, a trick, and I don’t believe you. I don’t know what your game is, but I’ll have no part of it.”

“A game — an unappreciative skeptic?” Sims said as she walked into Jack’s field of view. “Then how do you explain me?” Her cinematic Hollywood facial features appeared smooth and delicate. She gazed down at him with dark blue eyes, her raven black hair flowing over her shoulders, dressed down in a skintight deep-blue jumpsuit.

“I don’t have a clue... who the hell are you?”

“I’m Sims, Jack. You know — the one who gave you back the gift of speech?” She sighed. “And I may live to regret it.”

“Sims,” Logan muttered with a scowl, chastising her comment.

Jack’s eyes widened, he groaned. “This has to be a bad dream.” He took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself and then looked at Logan. “Okay, so where are you from, originally?”

“I’m from the Pleiades constellation in a solar system called Taygeta. My world, Erra, is very similar to Earth. Sims is from a gaseous world called Exscenchia in the Urora Constellation some two hundred forty-six light years from Pleiades.”

Sims moved around to face him. “I’m from a race of beings capable of molecular shape-shifting. We can manipulate atoms and molecules in most environments. I can dismantle matter and reassemble it into something much different.”

Logan continued. “We are commissioned by an association called the Orion Alliance of Planets here to protect Earth. Sims and I work for the InterStellar Force Agency in concert with the ETS. The Draconians and some other ETs hostile to humans are at play to do harm to your world. It’s our job to investigate and stop them.”

“You guys are from another planet, huh — you look too human to be aliens.”

“I am human but as you bear witness, Sims only emulates a human,” Logan said.

Jack felt acute pain from the burns but managed to ignore it, squeezed his eyes shut and mumbled, “When I open my eyes, all this will go away.” He opened them. “Aw man, I just don’t believe any of this.”

“What would you have me do to convince you we are real,” Sims said, “make the floor disappear and let you crash to the next level?”

“Got me there.” He sighed. “Uh, can you really do that?”

“Do you want to see?”

“Sims,” Logan said in a low tone.

She turned to face Logan and whispered, “He’s being a pain in the ass.”

“No, no, that’s okay,” Jack said, gazing at her in awe. “Tell me more.”

“As I said, I can control atoms at will. That’s how I created this human body.”

“Can you heal the rest of me?”

“The process has to be done in stages. Your body needs to acclimate slowly in order to heal.” Sims glanced at the door. “Nurse Chandler is on her way to check on you. Play the mute until we can get you out of here and don’t mention seeing us.”

“But—”

Logan placed his finger over his lips in a shushing gesture at the same instance the TV started operating again on its own.

Light from the outside hall flooded the entrance when Nurse Chandler pushed through the door. Jack scanned the area in front of him, but his visitors had vanished.

“Hi Jack, did you enjoy the game?” she said while heading to the medicine cart. Chandler had her back to him, arranging instruments on the table. “I’m going to give you something to make you rest . . . forever!”

She turned to face him, holding a short metal tube called a baloot. The hollow end of the tube filled with a reddish radiance followed by a sharp gaseous protrusion springing out six inches. The baloot housed the plasmatic bar contained by a magnetic field. It swelled in thickness to a diaphanous red-hot glow. She stared at him, her face expressionless, her eyes wild, brandishing the peculiar weapon in a stabbing stance.

Jack’s eyes enlarged as one word flew from his mouth. “Jesus!”

Chandler halted and gasped. “You can talk?” She glanced around the room, looking for another alien presence, realizing that her chance was now and she had to take it. The shape of her eyes distorted into a viperous snake-like glare. She lunged at him.

“Help!” Jack yelled.

Just as Chandler thrust the baloot toward his chest, Sims created a short duration concussion-wave that slammed her to the floor.

“Don’t kill her, we need to question her,” Logan said and moved toward Chandler. “Lock the door and prepare Jack for translocation.” He reached down to restrain her and in that instant she transformed into something inhuman with reptilian eyes glaring from a hairless head, leathery skin stretching over prominent bones. She viciously swiped at his upper chest, narrowly missing him with the slicing heated sharpness of the deadly weapon. After dodging several attacks, he punched the chameleon’s most vulnerable spot just above the temple.

Chandler writhed on the floor in pain, glancing at the door gradually giving way.

Someone slammed against the door again from the outside and yelled, “This is the police, open up!”

She looked at Logan coming toward her, reached into her blouse pocket, pulled out a palm-size device, and pressed its button. Her skin glowed as if on fire, sparks and evaporative smoke swirled around her body. Painful screams resounded as she disintegrated into a cloud of vapor.

“A suicide,” Logan exclaimed looking at Sims. “Are you ready?”

Sims had her hand on Jack’s shoulder and grasped Logan’s arm. “Yes.”

“I hate this... do it.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

The door burst open and two guards entered, one with his weapon at the ready. “What’s going on in here?” the taller one exclaimed.

“I heard people in here, Lee. I swear someone screamed,” the other guard said, his voice filled with urgency.

“What is that awful stench... where did they go?”

“I don’t know... it’s like they vanished into thin air.”

“This ain’t good,” Lee whispered as his eyes traced around the empty room. “How’re we going to explain this to the captain?”

“There’s no way to answer that question,” his partner said, scratching his head in confusion.

Three

One week later - Sausalito, California

Logan drove past a small neighborhood of picturesque family homes overlooking the serene shimmering water of Richardson Bay. In the distance, and further south, there stood the iconic Golden Gate Bridge as he pulled into a long, weathered asphalt driveway. He shifted the car into park and turned to Jack whose face had gone pale. “Are you okay? Can you make it to the house?”

Jack wiped the sweat from his brow beneath his disheveled sandy blonde hair and responded hesitantly. “I think so... I’ll be all right if I can get to a bed. Why are we here? You still haven't told me what's going on.”

“You haven’t recovered well enough since Sims translocated you to the base. How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Four and one thumb... don’t be an ass-wipe; I’m not in the mood. You didn’t answer my question.”

“General Bradley is concerned about another attempt on your life. We stayed at the base long enough to get some of your strength back. Beyond that was too risky.”

“Yeah, yeah, I vaguely remember that cute nurse coming at me in the hospital with that strange... whatever it was.”

“She was a chameleon assassin, a reptoid, and it’s a plasma weapon called a baloot. It’s sharper than any knife and can cook your insides.” Logan glanced around to locate the front door of the house. “We’ll be staying here for a while to hide out until we get more hard intelligence on LeCertis Vullen.”

“What’s a LeCertis Vullen?”

“Not what — who. Vullen is why we need to keep you safe. He wants you terminated because you know too much about his mission here on Earth. We don’t know how the attack on this country or the planet will happen or when, however, you do.”

“Whatever.” he groaned. “I can’t remember two days ago much less this Vullen character. If I don’t lie down soon, I’m going to find myself a clump of grass and curl up in it.”

“Let’s go, my friend told me this lady has a couple of rooms. At least Sims got your burns healed, but your nervous system and memory will take longer to fix.”

Logan stepped out and walked around the front of the car, opened the passenger door and grasped Jacks arm to help him stand. “There’s a possibility that this woman may seem familiar to you. Don’t react to her; otherwise you might have to sleep in the backseat until I can find another place. A hotel room will be too dangerous.”

“Why in hell would I recognize any woman I don’t know?”

“Trust me; I’ll explain later but right now we should get you into bed.”

As they approached the front door, Jack grabbed the porch handrail to steady himself, his back facing the door. Logan knocked and heard footsteps running toward them with a tiny voice shouting, “Let me get it, let me get it.” The door swung open. A blonde haired little girl around the age of nine looked up at him with curious sparkling blue eyes.

“Hi, can I speak to your mommy?” Logan asked.

A young woman walked up behind the child, bent over, whispered in her ear, and pointed. As the child left, she straightened up and turned to him, guiding her long straight blonde hair behind her shoulders with her hands. “Can I help you?”

“Mrs. Jeffries, my name is Logan Pyke. Cory Barton referred us to you. Said you have an apartment with a separate entrance for rent. This is my associate, Jack McMasters.”

Jack turned, attempting to afford her a smile and gasped, “Stacy?”

She stepped back, placing her hand on her chest from surprise. “I beg your pardon? My name is Megan.”

Logan grabbed his arm to steady him and whispered, “Remember what I said.”

“Uh, sorry ma’am, you reminded me of someone for a second.”

Logan turned to her. “As I said, Cory referred us to you.”

“Oh yeah, he called last night and said to be expecting you. What do you do, Mr. Pyke?”

Logan handed her a bogus business card. “The home office is in Indianapolis. We are aircraft engineers. Our job is to design electronic systems that run high altitude life support. Lockheed Martin, Boeing and Dassault are a few of our customers. Feel free to call that number and verify our employment with whoever answers.”

“Okay.” Megan looked at Jack with concern. “Your friend doesn’t look well.”

“Jack was in a traffic accident and just got out of the hospital, that’s why we’re here. He can’t travel so I’m unable to take him to Indianapolis until he gets his strength back. Some privacy and fresh air would be more conducive to his healing than a busy hotel.”

Jack’s knees buckled and caught himself on the handrail before falling. Logan grabbed him and glanced at the woman. “He really needs to lie down.”

She rushed inside and returned a few seconds later holding a set of keys. “Follow me.”

Logan shoved his shoulder under his armpit and walked him down the porch steps toward the rear of the house. They came to a brown picket fence and passed through an open gate next to rhododendrons in full bloom. They made their way through a small courtyard with soiled, mossy pavers. Colorful flowers over-flowed concrete planters near the patio. Several pieces of lawn furniture under the shade of a sprawling old gnarled oak tree appeared well-worn but usable.

She led them to an obscure entrance recessed beneath a wooden deck, unlocked the door, and held it open until they entered. “Take him to the first room on the right,” she said and followed them, watching while Logan laid Jack on the bed, covering him with a quilt.

Logan quietly closed the door behind him and faced her. “Cory said you recently lost your husband, my condolences, Mrs. Jeffries. If you don’t mind me asking, how did it happen?”

“Please, call me Megan. My husband was in the Air Force and died in a plane crash in Saudi Arabia.” She sighed. “Our little girl really took it hard. They were very close.” Megan handed him the door keys. “Well, I’d best be getting back to my daughter.” She tore a piece off a brown paper bag and wrote on it. “If you need anything, you can come get me or call me. I hope Jack gets to feeling better soon.”

“Thanks Megan, I’m sure we’ll be quite comfortable here.”

After she left, a blue luminescent orb permeated the wall, circled Logan and settled on the couch. A translucent outline of a female figure appeared in the seated position with one leg crossed over the other, solidifying into her human form.

“What took you so long?” he asked.

Sims glared at him sideways. “I had to wait until she was gone. Seeing me appear and disappear might be a little hard on the young woman’s nerves. If she were to faint, I suppose you’d get all sympathetic and gushy over her like most typical human males.”

“Logan ignored her trite sarcasm, opened the refrigerator and peered inside. “Hmm, we need to stock up the fridge.”

Sims paused in thought. “Do you think she’s pretty?”

“Oh — beautiful.” He grabbed a bottled water, turned to face her, twisted the cap and smiled. “Jealousy doesn’t become you, Sims. You should be more mature for your seven hundred and eighty years.”

“That’s very young for my species. Besides, I’m still learning about the universe. And I’ll have you know there’s not a jealous molecule in my body, I’m just curious over Earth’s customs and rituals. I have nothing in common with these human females at all.”

“Ah, but you are female none the less.”

An opening door caught their attention. “You didn’t stay in bed very long,” Logan said.

Sims walked over and grasped Jack’s arm to steady him. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like a one-ton wildebeest dragged me through the Serengeti . . . but I’m not complaining. It feels great to be moving around again.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” Logan asked.

“I’m too restless. My nerves are buzzing and my head is in a fog. I’m still having trouble comprehending what you’ve been trying to tell me since we met.”

“Like what for instance?” Sims asked.

“Like where you two come from, and me being an ETS agent, oh and that — that LeCertis Vullen character. You don’t think I wouldn’t remember that? I also recall San Francisco where I spent my childhood, the Golden Gate Bridge, and the woman working at the Post Office is my mother. That girl at Big Burger Delight is an old high school acquaintance and —”

“We passed those places on the way over here. You related to them because of your temporary memory implants. Nurse Chandler filled your mind with blank memory scenarios,” Logan said.

“Remember, we never stopped at the post office or Big Burger Delight. Don’t you find it odd that you have long term memories about those places?” Sims said.

Jack scratched his head. “Now that you mention it.”

“If a Draconian operative gets captured by an enemy, it’s standard procedure to inject themselves with a chemical toxin that blanks out their memories. The chemical re-programs the mind with impulsive sensory responses,” Logan said

Perplexed, Jack gazed at him. “Huh?”

“Whenever you see a person, place or something that relates to an implanted experience, that person, place, or occurrence fills in the blanks in your false memory. A shadowy faceless woman in your mind that you believe to have had a relationship with, lived with, now has a face and a name attached to it.”

Jack gazed at him as though he bit into something sour. “Ewe, what if she’s an eighty-year-old grandma with no teeth?”

Logan chuckled. “It won’t happen. Your natural instincts will guide you... that is unless you have a thing for a toothless granny.”

“Nah, I don’t have that, or at least I don’t think I do... do I?”

“An attraction already happened when we first got here... Stacy, remember?” Logan said.

Jack snapped his finger in thought and said, “Yeah, yeah, she called herself Megan. So, that’s not Stacy?”

Logan shook his head.

“But I used to go with her. We went together for three years. How can it be?” Jack cradled his face in his hands. “Whew, I’m a mite dizzy.”

“When you feel better and have time to talk to her, ask her some small, generalized questions. Ask where she lived, where she went to high school, her parent’s names and see if it matches what you know,” Sims said.

“You were not supposed to live long enough for any of this to happen,” Logan said. “You were fortunate we were close by when Nurse Chandler made an attempt on your life.”

“I don’t want to think about that right now; help me up, I need to get back under the covers.”

Jack awakened the next day, exhausted from a troubling sleep. Sims’ healing routine eased his injuries and that sensation of grabbing a live electric wire, but the relief only lasted a short while. She assured him the treatment would improve his condition over time.

He gazed out the window. Hmm, 11AM, some fresh air sounds good. He slipped into his trousers and shirt and made his way into the backyard. A recliner greeted him next to the old oak tree. Jack sat, leaned against the backrest, and closed his eyes, welcoming the warmth from the sun bathing his face. After a few minutes, his weary eyes cracked just a slit, rolled his head over, and noticed a little girl gazing at him in curiosity. She was a petite child, girlish with long blonde hair and striking blue eyes. “Who are you?”

“Debbie — what’s your name?” she asked in a meek, soft voice.

“Jack.” Through the fog in his memory, he recalled a child when Logan first brought him here. Debbie held a Barbie doll and gazed at him in silence as if to say ‘why are you in my house?’

“That’s a beautiful doll you have. Are you going to introduce me?”

Debbie giggled. “This is Jean. I call her Jean So Clean because she never gets dirty. She’s not like Jason who wallows in the dirt. I have to wash his clothes all the time.”

“How long have you had Jean? She looks thrilled to be here.”

Her expression turned solemn, her eyes focusing on the grass for a moment and then back to him. “Not too long, Daddy brought her home before he went away, but he’s never coming back.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, why not?”

“He had an accident in an airplane.”

Megan called from behind while coming through the gate, “Debbie.”

She turned to look at her mother.

“Honey, you shouldn’t be bothering Mr. McMasters.”

“She’s all right, ma’am, we were just having a nice conversation.”

“Please, call me Megan,” she said as she approached him.

“My mind was a bit foggy when I arrived at your front door, so I apologize for any confusion.”

“Confusion?”

“When I mistook you for someone else.”

She chuckled. “No worries, that’s not the first time it’s happened to me. So how are you feeling?”

“It’s going to be a long and arduous road to recovery, but fortunately I’m young so I should get there. Speaking of getting there, that bed is calling my name.” He sat up. “Where is Logan?”

“Mr. Pyke went to the store to pick up a few things for you.”

“Excuse me, Megan, I’ve got to go in.” He stood, took a step, and fell to one knee grabbing the chair to steady himself.

Megan grasped an arm to keep him from going to the ground. “Easy Jack, if you go down, I won’t be able to get you inside.”

“Mommy, what’s the matter with Jack?”

“He’s tired, honey. We need to get him to bed in a hurry.” Megan helped him to his feet and as he leaned on her, Debbie rushed to the other side holding his wrist to help. Once inside, they laid him down, covered him, and headed to the door.

“Thank you,” he whispered in a frail tone.

“Get some rest; we’ll check on you in a bit.” she said, closing the door.

Jack’s eyelids felt like heavy weights hanging from them, exhaustion consuming his strength, and fell unconscious soon after his head hit the pillow. Something rustling around in the kitchen woke him. He glanced at the window and then at his watch. It was 9:35, dark out; hours had passed. “Is that you, Megan?”

Sims walked into the bedroom handing him a glass of water. “How’re you doing?”

“I don’t know, my whole body is still buzzing and stinging, can’t get any real rest because it wakes me up.”

“Let’s see if I can’t help you with that. Here, I want you to drink plenty of water before our healing sessions.”

“Pull up a chair and talk to me for a while.”

She slid the kitchen chair next to the bed.”

“I can’t believe you are an alien, you seem so normal.”

“Normal huh, that all depends on who’s point of view you’re talking about. The term alien is offensive to some ETs that visit here. If you think about it, Earth humans are alien to us, though we try not to be too insulting.”

“I call it like I see it.”

“Well, most prefer the term extraterrestrial. Actually, the terrestrial part is a misnomer in my case since my planet is a gaseous planet. I’m just extra-special,” she said with a smile.

“Oh, I can believe that and you’re also very beautiful. Did you have a reason for choosing that particular look?”

Once again she heard that judgmental tone from another close acquaintance, which grated her nerves, now that she has them. Some people wondered why she didn’t pick a less attractive appearance, as if that would make her more humble. She shifted her weight, placing her hands on her hips and said, “I created this appearance to make people feel more relaxed around me. Are you suggesting that I’m narcissistic?”

He shook his head. “No — no, just wondered.”

“Just so you know, I don’t tolerate that kind of nonsense from Logan, and I won’t take it from you either. For your information, being pretty gives you more influence and esteem in your world, no matter if you’re male or female. I know that from experience, because I’ve tried many different forms.”

“Uh, believe it or not, few men like to be called pretty... the word is handsome.” Jack smiled, looking her up and down.

She huffed. “Whatever.”

“I meant nothing by it — you’re easy on the eyes; that’s it in a nutshell. Don’t be offended when a man looks at you with his tongue hanging out of his mouth. Since you have it, you can flaunt it, but accept it with a little grace when you get responses — that is as long as someone’s words and actions aren’t disrespectful and they don’t invade your space.

“I didn’t mean to be somewhat... defensive. I’m trying hard to fit in the best I can, but there are times when I’m not sure if what I’m doing is right or wrong. Sometimes, I feel like I’m going in circles”

“You are your own person and you have to feel comfortable in your own skin. Don’t worry about some people being derogatory; opinions are like elbows, everybody has them. It’s my opinion you are knock-out gorgeous, and you are very capable of doing amazing things.”

“Explain.”

“You know, like when you appeared as a floating ball and then turned into a woman. When you fixed my voice and somehow transported me out of the hospital. You are so extraordinary.”

“Well, thank you for those kind words, Jack. Most every species has some form of unique ability they can call on when needed.”

“Will you show me more?”

Sims extended her arm and twisted it into a candy-cane shape, her fingers growing long and spindly. “Here’s a cat’s paw.” Her arm and hand shape-shifted into a black cat’s limb and paw. “Now a horse’s hoof — a bear’s paw — a dolphin fin and here’s an eagle’s talon.” She hesitated while gazing at the talon. “Living in a gaseous environment, I didn’t know what matter was until I visited Pleiades. Once I learned the differences between plants, animals and beings, I experimented a lot.” She smiled. “I enjoyed it.”

“That’s incredible.”

“My original position was an ambassador’s aid to Pleiades. I met Logan at a ceremony honoring Pleiades ISF agents missing in action. My first transmutated facade was that of a gray haired man with a beard. All I had to go on was a photograph because most of the humans there looked like that. I learned your language from recorded medium. Unlike most entities in my society, I was eager to see the universe, to experience different cultures and add my distinctiveness to the cause for good. Logan asked me to work alongside him here and I found it to be quite stimulating, so I stayed.”

“What’s it like on your world?”

I’m normally grouped into a small cloud of dioxide molecules. It contains me, retains my consciousness, my awareness and sentience. When off home-world, I can transform myself into any shape of matter, but it has to be biological. I can shape-shift to anything I want from a human to any kind of animal... like an elephant —”

“An elephant?”

“Oh, they are magnificent creatures... intelligent, loyal, and warm-hearted. I roamed with a herd for two weeks in Africa. Logan told me I needed a vacation and that’s what I wanted to do. I made very good friends while there.”

“Interesting... Well, I’m glad you’re on the side of good.”

“There is no evil on my planet, but I have experienced so much of it since being on material worlds. That’s why I joined ISF. Vullen is one of the worst. At some point, we are hoping you can shed light on why he’s here on Earth.”

Jack shook his head. “My memory loss has been unsettling to say the least. It’s as if I’m living in an empty house. The furniture, the fridge, the stove, and everything else is missing, except the echo of my inner voice off the walls.”

“Give yourself time; your body is still healing.”

“I get the distinct impression we don’t have much time.”

“The ISF is not waiting on you. There’s a full blown investigation going on so you concentrate on getting better.”

“Thanks.”

“Welcome.”

“Say, Sims, I need a favor.”

“Depends.”

“The little girl upstairs recently lost her father, and now her bike has been stolen. She’s heartbroken.” He fluttered his fingers in front of her. “Could you do some of your hocus-pocus and make her one?”

“You can’t be serious, I don’t make toys. What do you think I am, Mattel? My innate abilities can’t be exploited on trivial things. Go buy one for the precious little darling,” she said in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Come on, have a heart. You’re not as vinegary as you let on.”

Sims elevated her nose a few degrees and with a girlish prissiness, pressed her hand on her hip. “I do have a heart; I gave you your health back didn’t I?”

“Yeah, and I appreciate it but that’s business. What I’m talking about is a small charitable act.”

Sims glanced at him. Since going on a few missions with him, he had always been self-centered, egotistical, and cold to everyone around him. What’s gotten into him? He’s never had one good thought for anyone but himself. That neuralizer must’ve done more than short circuit his brain. It’ll be interesting to see how he reacts to all this when his memory returns.

She noticed a picture of Debbie on the night table riding her bicycle and studied it for a second.

“Whaddaya say Sims, as a favor to me.”

The front door pushed open and footsteps approached the bedroom.

“This bowl of hot soup should help you sleep better,” Megan said. She set it on a side table and looked around. “I heard voices.”

Jack smiled, glancing around to see where Sims went. “Oh, just thinking out loud, talking to myself. Don’t worry, I’m not schizoid or anything.” He gazed at the steam rising from the bowl. “Thanks, the soup looks delicious.”

Jack noticed her staring at the pillow next to him.

“How did that get in here?” she asked, brows drawn together in curiosity.

He glanced at the pillow and saw a black cat lying there. “Uh, I gave it a bite of Vienna sausage and it followed me in here. I’ll let it out in a while.”

“Oh, that’s okay, animals are supposed to be good for the healing process. It’s probably a neighbor’s cat.” She stood to leave. “Don’t wash the dishes; I’ll get them in the morning, goodnight Jack.”

“Night... and thanks.” After the front door shut, the cat purred while gazing up at him. “What are you doing, are you trying to get me into trouble?”

Sims dissolved into a blue, luminous sphere floating above the bed. You heard what she said; animals help in healing. Drink your water and close your eyes so I can begin your treatment.

Jack stretched out on his back, closed his eyes and smiled. “This is the best part of the day.” Strobes of warm light with different frequencies, color, and intensity engulfed him head to toe, and he soon succumbed to a deep restful sleep.

Four

The Creekmore Mining Company outside Montrose, Colorado

“Sims!” Benny wailed, eyeing her strutting through the door followed by Logan. “Long time, no see.” He spread his arms in welcome like any gracious Italian. “You’re ravishing, how do you stay so young looking — incredible.” Benny had a disproportionate pear shaped body, sagging jowls with brown-stained teeth from chewing tobacco. His five o’clock shadow was two days older, and his unbuttoned shirt exposed one-inch tufts of hair on his chest. “Darlin’, you’re the sexiest thing I’ve seen since being here in Dog Patch.”

“Benny, Benny, Benny, charming to the last,” she said with seeded sardonicism.

“He smiled in response with a wicked chuckle. “I can be a lot more charming if you come over to my place.”  A wide grin flashed across his face while fanning his eyebrows. “Five minutes, that’s all I need and I’ll give you anything you want.”

Logan shook his head and snickered. “You’re flirting with death, Benny. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

“A beautiful sexy broad,” he crooned, gazing at her feminine curves, hills and valleys.

Sims leaned over, elbows on the counter, exposing her well-endowed bosoms that just seemed to grow two bra sizes in mere seconds. She spoke in a sultry, sexy voice, “Looks can be deceiving, Benny. Don’t wish for something you can’t handle.”

“I can handle anything you can dish out, baby.”

“How about this?” Sims pinched a tuft of hair on his chest and twisted hard.

“Yeooow!”

“Now, you need to focus, Benny. Logan has some questions and we require answers without being on the receiving end of your junk.”

“Okay! Okay!” He scowled, rubbing his chest after she let go. Benny turned his back to her and mumbled, “Damn bitch.”

“I didn’t hear that, what’d you say?” she asked with a scowl.

He twisted around to face her, saying, “Um... I’m no damn snitch.”

“We’ll see.” Logan pulled out a photo and showed him. “We’re looking for a Draconian reptilian. His name is LeCertis Vullen, a Setti of the Black Suns. He has a shape-shifting laser holograph to disguise himself to look human and goes by the name Tom Cole. The holograph is that of a large man, dark brown eyes, brown hair and occasionally wears an off-white cowboy hat.”

“KBS agent, huh? Haven’t seen him.”

Logan grabbed a fistful of shirt and jerked, shoving Benny to the counter. “You’ve already had two treaty violations for selling banned minerals to the wrong ETs. One more and I’ll shut you down. If that threat doesn’t work, I’ll have Sims grab a handful of that burly burlap on your chest and yank on it.”

“Okay, okay,” he groaned. “Let go.”

“Now, look at this photo again.”

“Yeah, yeah, he was here yesterday asking about certain types of minerals. These shape-shifters come in here, and they seem so convincing as a human that I don’t pay much attention. I’m in business to make a buck, you know. I never ask questions as to who they are and why they buy what they buy.”

“That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said since we got here,” Sims said, placing her hands on her hips.

Logan dug into his pocket for a small pad and pen. “Okay, shoot.”

“Well, uh . . . he uh, came here wanting to buy some stuff, you know, minerals and such.”

“I swear I’m losing my patience,” Logan growled.

“I hate squealing on my customers, Logan.”

“Benny — now!” Sims exclaimed.

“Okaaay.” He reached beneath the counter, picked up a requisition form and looked at it. “I checked his ID.” He laid his hand on his chest-hair to protect it while glancing at Sims. “You heard that, right? I checked his ID. He’s legit.”

Sims grinned.

Benny held up the requisition form to read. “This Tom Cole asked about a rare-earth mineral called neodymium. It’s used to make powerful magnets. Praseodymium was on his list. This is used to create strong metals for aircraft. Beryllium 4Be on the Periodic Table is a soft shiny metal, lightweight with a high melting point. Magnesium 12Mg is a very common metal on Earth. It’s a reactive metal and it’ll burn given the right condition.

“Carbon 6C... carbon has the unique ability to create an astonishing number of different compounds. Among many uses is graphite carbon used in making steel. And carbon nanotubes called BuckyTubes are the strongest and stiffest materials ever discovered. What he wants with these minerals, I can’t tell you. Now, I hope you’re satisfied, because I just betrayed the confidence of a customer.”

Sims gave him a light tap a few times on the face with her palm. “Oh, he’ll get over it, Tubby.”

“Humph, tubby huh. Well, since I’m dog-meat, you might as well go interview Giorgio in Receiving. I figure you’re going to get there, anyway.”

They left through the door and stopped to look at each other when they heard Benny belly laughing. “Oh my God, I’m a dead man . . . a dead man.”

Sims frowned. “Strange fellow... weird sense of humor.”

“Some people laugh like that when they’re nervous. If Vullen finds out what he just did, it won’t be too pleasant for him.”

They climbed into the car and drove a quarter mile on a dark dirt road. The trees had blocked the setting sun behind them when Logan pulled up to an old brick warehouse half covered with English ivy. A single light over the office door just switched on by an optic sensor. When they walked in the lobby, a young man with long brown hair and a full beard sat at his desk shuffling through paperwork. He stood, Botox expressionless and walked to the counter. “Can I help you?” he asked in a dull monotone.

If this guy even tries to smile, I think his face will crack, Sims mused.

Logan flashed his shiny brass ISF badge at Giorgio and produced the picture he had shown to Benny. “We’re looking for this individual for questioning. Have you had any contact with him?”

“Georgio shook his head, slow and metered.

Sims noticed a slight change in his expression; it was fear. Then his eyes drifted over her left shoulder to the plate-glass window behind her exuding panic. Almost faster than the eye could follow, she twisted around to check out the window, shoved Logan sliding across the floor and behind the desk. Next, she pushed Giorgio down next to the counter and vanished just as the glass exploded into the office.

Seconds later, she reappeared and pulled her Glock, aiming it at the blown out window. There was no one there. She rushed to see if Logan was all right.

He rolled over on his side, looking up at her and groaned. “Quick thinking, Sims, thanks.” He pushed up with his hands and knees and stood. “Let me guess — Vullen.”

“Yes, in his Tom Cole holographic façade.”

Logan gazed around, scrutinizing the area. “How’s Giorgio?”

“I don’t know.”

The counter had crumbled to the floor in multiple pieces from the weapon’s wave of concussive energy. Much of the wood shredded into fibrous mulch by flying glass. They lifted a chunk of plywood to find Giorgio’s body lying in a puddle of blood. Logan felt for a pulse. “He’s dead; the blast from the weapon directed the force at the center of the room where the clerk stood.”

“Everything happened so fast, I didn’t get a chance to see where Vullen went,” she said.

“That’s okay; you saved my bacon from getting crispy fried.”

Sims raised an eyebrow from his expressive symbolism and followed behind him as he moved next to the door. Logan peeked around the corner of the jamb and saw movement near the top of a mound of minerals where a head appeared to poke up now and then. Twilight triggered the lamp poles to light making it more difficult to make out the suspect.

Logan nodded at Sims, and they rushed behind the driver’s side of the car for cover. Suddenly, two loud dull thumps vibrated the vehicle, leaving three-foot round dents in the passenger side door and quarter panel. The concussive wave of energy pushed the car a couple of feet, forcing them backward.

“Damn, he must have that thing set on max,” Logan said. “That one would’ve turned my insides to Jell-O.” He stood, fired his 9mm Glock at the mound and ducked. “Cover me while I try to make it to that clump of trees. I’ll try to flank him.”

Sims nodded, stood and fired four rounds from her handgun at the top of the mound. Minerals churned in the air as Logan rushed to the trees moving with caution to the edge of the piles of minerals.

He had Vullen in his sights, but before he could get a fix on him, Vullen disappeared into a field of elephant grass. “Sims, he’s getting away!”

They chased after him through a meadow following a trail of tall, disturbed grass that led them up a steep hill thick with brush and trees. Logan knew Vullen wouldn’t stop to engage in a fight because whatever mission he was on was more important than risking it over an insignificant skirmish. They reached the top just in time to see his shuttle rising above the trees.

It was a spherical shaped craft with a glass dome cockpit, its retro jets igniting below the fuselage. Short, narrow fins in the center axis of the ship rotated slow at first and sped up after gaining altitude. When the spinning reached its maximum RPM; the craft rose straight up, disappearing into the heavens within seconds.

“I wish we could get permits to carry particle beam pistols outside the Toiyabe Base. They’re a whole lot better than these smokeless-powder explosive cartridges.” They started back to the car. “Too bad you couldn’t have translocated yourself in front of him to head him off.”

“It’s hard to relocate my position when I don’t know where he’s going. I have to calculate angles and degrees in distance and time. In such unknown spacing, it’s almost impossible to determine those kinds of variables.”

“I was joking... lighten up,” he said, panting from being out of breath.

“I think you should lay off the beer.”

“It’s not the beer, it’s this thin air. Besides, I love beer; it reminds me of hepple back home.”

“Hepple, huh, no wonder you’re so flighty first thing in the morning. That’s why you have three cups of coffee when you come to work and then you’re up and down for hours. It must be worse than that roller coaster you talked me in to going on last year.”

“Oh, that was fun, admit it; it’s considered a thrill ride here on Earth.”

“Thrill? It’s a kiddy ride compared to a trip through the Anslest Asteroid field.”

“Sims, you’re always thinking too big. You’re spoiled; you need to appreciate the simpler things in life.”

“I do . . . I’m working with you aren’t I?” She smiled, turned her nose up, and started down the hill.

“Oh, that hurt.”

Five

Logan and Sims drove along the winding road that led them through the mountains and past a security checkpoint where they were allowed to enter the Toiyabe ET Base. After parking their car, they made their way to the main lobby, showed their IDs, and headed down the hallway to meet with Commander Bradley.

“How can you stand traveling like this? It seemed like an eternity to get here,” Sims complained.

“When in Rome, do as the Romans do,” Logan said.

Sims scowled. “I can’t believe you just used that old cliché. Have some compassion. It’s bad enough that I have to sit in a metal box on wheels, but I don’t care to hear your clever little phrases at the same time. And just to be clear, I wouldn’t want to ride in a horse-drawn carriage either — Romans, huh.”

“Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning? Give it some time; eventually you won’t even think twice about traveling this way.”

“I don’t have a bed, remember? You’re just full of human expressions, aren’t you?”

Sims could translocate from the west to the east coast in seconds by scrambling her atoms into molecules of energy and ride the electric grid. But to her chagrin and annoyance, she had to travel at a snail’s pace to assist Logan. And as part of the job, she must make her appearance human, a façade to throw off those who were unassociated with her origins and her surreptitious work.

She had been on the job as an ISF Agent going on three years. The transition between her gaseous world and worlds revolving around matter had challenged her ability to acclimate. The complexities between races were hard to grasp and it took a while to understand what the ISF job required of her. Logan recognized her valuable innate abilities and convinced headquarters that he could train her on the job. At first, most everything seemed so slow-going and arduous to achieve. And there were many times it taxed her patience and her sanity but she persevered because beneath it all, she found it interesting.

Logan knocked.

“Come in,” a voice said.

Logan opened the door, allowing her to enter first.

“Hi, General Bradley,” she said with a bright smile.

“Sims, you look more radiant than ever.”

Sims gave Logan a sidelong irritated smirk, her dark eyebrows arching. “Thank you, sir. I’m glad someone notices.”

“Don’t mind her, General; her atoms are a bit jittery today.”

Bradley chuckled. “How’s the sergeant’s recovery coming along?”

“Over these past few weeks, he’s had a couple of young ladies pampering him. He’s not going to be worth a plug nickel. Megan cooks his meals and Debbie forces him to eat it. As for his physical trauma, he’s about the same, sir,” Logan said.

“And his memory?”

“Not much better at the moment.”

Bradley’s eyes gravitated to Logan’s hair that was beginning to stand straight up, strand by strand.

Logan felt his scalp tingling and he knew exactly whom the culprit was. He turned to face Sims seeing a scowl laminating her face from apparent agitation. “What did I do now?”

“Men... you never give credit where credit is due. Who sits by him all night healing his body while he sleeps?”

Logan shook his head and sighed at Bradley. “Commander, I just bought myself a barrel of trouble.” He turned to face her. “I’m sorry Sims, you do.” He reached up pushing his hair down, combing it back with his hand and glanced at Bradley. “Make that three ladies.”

A bald man walked in wearing a dark pinstriped three-peace suit, red tie, carrying an attaché case. His charismatic presence bolstered a high level of energy as he set the case by the leg of the table and pulled out a chair. He appeared to be in his mid fifties, wearing wire-rim glasses and sat across the table from Logan and Sims.

Mr. Phentox! Logan mused in surprise. What’s he doing here?

“This is Mr. Feornu Oglen Phentox from Vega,” Bradley said and then looked at him. “Sir, my apologies if I slaughtered the pronunciation of your name.”

“Close enough, General. My name is rather difficult to remember for most places I go, so the Earth Indoctrination Representative had a brilliant solution. She took the first, seventh and last letter of my Vegan name and came up with Fox. I am Mr. Fox and it is a pleasure to meet you all.” He smiled looking at Sims. “And who are you, young lady?”

“Simjase`akiza, please call me Sims,” she said, returning his smile.

Fox’s gaze went to Logan.

“My name is Ahkatu Ersoma from Pleiades, alias Logan Pyke, sir. Glad to see you again,” he said with a traditional Earth handshake. “I doubt you remember, but we met at the Mertice Accord on Rigel eleven years ago.”

Fox smiled. “Of course, you were assisting Lord Jandell with the Levithar investigation. It’s good to see you again.”

“Mr. Fox is the director of the Orion Chronicles, and he’s now heading up the ISF Agency so that makes him our boss,” Bradley said.

“There is a saying on this planet, it appears you have a full plate, sir,” Logan said.

“I have a passion for work and when the superiors asked me to come here to oversee the ISF operation in this sector, I jumped at the chance. As head of the Orion Chronicles, I’m privy to a plethora of intelligence throughout the galaxy so this is a great marriage.”

“Welcome aboard, sir.” Sims said.

“Thank you, I’ve studied the records of everyone in both organizations, and I know your individual talents and backgrounds. I’m here to make business decisions and support you. I don’t believe in micro managing, however, there may be some minor adjustments along the way.”

“Then I assume someone has brought you up to date on the Vullen case,” Logan said.

“Yes, and I have no intention of coming onboard in the middle of your investigation and turning everything upside down. General Bradley has the utmost confidence in the both of you and that’s good enough for me.”

“Thank you, sir,” Logan said.

“I’m in the unique position of managing over two million records in the Orion Chronicles,” Fox said. “We restrict these archives to the boundaries of this sector of the galaxy. I get reports from thousands of worlds, so I can be an invaluable resource when needed.”

“Do you have any insight on LeCertis Vullen . . . anything that we can draw on?” Logan asked.

“Vullen’s home world was Alpha Draconis, ruled by the Draconian Empire.  He craves power and his desire to wield it is infectious to him, an antithesis to everything good in the galaxy. He’s a Setti in the Knights of the Black Suns on Rigel in the Orion Constellation, his powers have grown exponentially.

“A Setti is similar to a lordship, one of only twelve in their history; as a matter of fact, he’s commonly referred to as Lord Vullen. And the Black Suns are a deadly syndicate of trained assassins that deal in galactic espionage. Vullen proved his mettle by passing the ritual Karpek Daèju, thereafter getting inducted into the Knights of the Black Suns.”

“What is a Karpek Daèju?” Sims asked.

“It’s ascension of the mind and spirit for a lifelong oath of service to the Black Suns. One must endure nightmarish visions and excruciating pain. If a potential inductee doesn’t pass, they are killed. After Vullen passed the Karpek Daèju, he renounced his citizenship from Alpha Draconis. But oddly enough, he maintained a close relationship with Draconis Emperor Gortac and from time to time, he accepts missions from him. Vullen and a small faction of followers broke with Earth’s treaty three years ago and left the Toiyabe Base.”

“I read somewhere that before Vullen joined the Black Suns, he also earned the rank of general in the Draconian army,” Bradley said.

“Yes, he had quite an illustrious career in the army with many accomplishments and numerous battles won on different worlds.”

“Since Vullen is their highly acclaimed Setti, he must have powers that the others don’t. Is he telepathic?” Sims asked.

“Vullen wears a full custom helmeted mask that amplifies his physical and inner senses, especially heightened intuition, and it helps to warn him of impending danger. He can gather and analyze emotions from his opponent through minute spikes of kinetic energy. If he recognizes your fear, he will take advantage of your weakness to overpower you.” He looked at Logan. “Where are you in the investigation?”

“Vullen knows he’s under scrutiny for aiding and abetting espionage activities here at Toiyabe. The ISF has a team of investigators working to locate him. We need to acquire some actionable intelligence to catch him — he’s very crafty and slippery. As a whole, we’re still piecing things together.”

This Vullen matter concerns the Orion Alliance of Planets, which is one of the reasons I’m here,” Fox said. “The OAP has worked hard to keep peaceful worlds like Earth safe from outside aggression. We wish to avoid another Nortasta incident in this solar system.”

“Nortasta, sir?” Sims asked.

“The asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter is the remnant of Nortasta, a thriving planet that once was inhabited by a human species. A senseless war caused its destruction.” Mr. Fox paused and glanced at his watch. “I apologize, but I must go to another meeting.” He stood, followed by the others, and shook everyone’s hands, saying, “I’m looking forward to working with you. Let me know if there is anything you need.”

“We will and thank you, sir,” Logan said while watching him leave. He looked at Bradley and Sims. “Mr. Fox is very well-founded and he looks spry for his age, don’t you think.”

“Yes, he’s over six hundred years old. That’s a little above middle age for a Vegan,” Bradley said.

“Oh my,” Sims gasped. “I hear they can move between dimensions. Wonder why he puts on glasses.”

Bradley chuckled. “Mr. Fox wears them to make himself look more like everyone else on Earth just like you do with that female homo sapiens-sapiens body.”

Logan reached for his jacket hanging up in the closet. “Sims, I have an errand to run. I’ll meet you at the car in an hour.”

“Oh glory, I can’t wait,” she mumbled and left through the door.

Logan felt that tingly sensation in his scalp again as every hair on top of his head stood straight up. “Sims!” he shouted, following behind her. “Come on, Sims, give me a break. I can’t go around looking like Bart Simpson all day.”

Six

Onboard the battle cruiser ThoPok orbiting above Earth, Lord Vullen was about to witness a ceremonial ritual called the Karpek Daèju. Induction into the Knights of the Black Suns requires the candidate to control emotion and strengthen inner weaknesses against pain to free the spirit. Only then may they be accepted into knighthood.

A Draconian warrior named Rajuc had long awaited the honor of becoming a member of this unique league of spies and assassins. The KBS were analogous to Ninja warriors in the espionage realm and emissaries often veiling themselves as diplomats capable of infiltrating world governments at the highest levels.

A guard opened the door to the Axleth Corridor, a long narrow path through the valley of nightmarish fear and agonizing pain. The slanted charcoal gray metal walls contained ribs of bony protrusions. The only light were two flickering rows of fire dancing from metal grates in the floor along each wall. Room temperature crested at a level that only Dracs were accustomed.

Two guards escorted Rajuc to a post with protruding thorns. He grabbed the sharp, short-needle spikes piercing the fleshy part of his right hand. Greenish blood dribbled down the post mixing with the dried crusty blood of previous inductees. He performed the self-injurious act to project fearlessness, and to get him prepped for the next step in the process. Vullen gave him a cup of jenowah, a liquid containing a hallucinogenic compound. Rajuc drank, grimacing from the foul hot spice.

Six KBS agents stood at attention two feet above one side of the narrow valley that Rajuc will traverse. Korilia serpents had been secured at the center of its four-foot snake-like body on a rack above the path every three feet. They covered Rajuc with oil containing a scent-attractant from a fozzex beast, a formidable enemy of the korilia.

A KBS agent milked the serpent’s venom so its bite won’t kill Rajuc. The spice he swallowed will project the korilla as terrifying monstrous creatures, their piercing fangs feeling like glowing hot spears stabbing his flesh. Effects of the spice will simulate agonizing blows from the slaps of korilia tails to his head and body. Rajuc must endure unbearable pain without falter, or the six ceremonial KBS agents standing above the valley will kill him.

This grueling walk was called the toahnuk, The Path to Life or Death. If he completes the path, he must have the clarity of thought to grasp the thorn post at the end of the toahnuk. He cannot release the post until being branded with a fiery hot insignia on his right chest, imprinting him as a true Knight of the Black Suns.

Inductee’s train hard for the honor of knighthood, but most don’t achieve nobility. The ship’s captain, his first officer, and the doctor stood behind the end thorn-post to authenticate Rajuc’s bravery and sacrifice.

Vullen moved to his ear and whispered, “You will feel sharp blades of steel penetrating your flesh and crushing blows from the serpent that will expel any weakness from your soul. The thrums from your enemies’ chants will haunt you through each step of your suffering. The pain will be excruciating, the fear horrifying and if you show any sign of frailty or cry out, they will kill you. Now walk to your destiny!”

Rajuc took his first step, his eyes wide with angst, hesitant at first but pushed on. His comrade’s appearance manifested into devilish creatures brought on by the spice. Six knights droned in a humming sound at different levels and pitches. The korilia serpents twisted and turned in a frantic attempt to escape the harness that held them above the head of Rajuc. When he approached the path, the serpents became agitated by the scent of the fozzex. Korilia’s heads and tails undulated in slow motion waiting for the right moment to strike at their most hated enemy.

Rajuc came within range of the first serpent. It coiled into a tight spring and struck him on the back sinking its fangs deep into his muscle. He gasped from the perception of a blazing spear penetrating his flesh. He became rigid, his knees buckled, but he didn’t fall.

The second serpent’s tail slapped him on the face. It felt like a full-fisted punch on the jaw forcing him backwards, landing hard on the metal grate flooring. Rajuc stood in haste before he would get disqualified and stepped through four more punishing, painful attacks, never expressing fear or crying out. He finally faced the thorn post at the end, and was about to reach for it when he went to his knees, his body wobbling almost losing consciousness.

“Get up,” Vullen growled in a breathy hiss. “Rajuc, get up.” He unsheathed his baloot and pushed the button. The plasma blade shot out of the tube into a fiery hot luminance. Vullen was ready to thrust it through the heart when Rajuc managed to reach up and grab the thorn post with his left hand, using it to pull himself up.

His knees wobbled but steadied himself enough to receive the searing heat from the insignia branded into his scaly flesh. He groaned, fell to the floor and the ceremony was completed. Scoffing barks of laughter and loud guttural Draconian dialect erupted between warriors as they became enraptured by the scene of witnessing Rajuc’s torture. Dracs tend to coalesce in delight from witnessing another’s pain or misfortune.

“Silence!” Vullen shouted with displeasure. “I must deliver the verbal coronation before he can become our brother.” He stood over him and said, “Rajuc, your spirit has been cleansed. You have endured the pain, the fear, and still maintained discipline in defeating the Karpek Dae’ju. Your inner strength and powerful will endured horrific obstacles earning you the respect and the right to serve alongside us. I now declare you a Knight of the Black Suns.” He pointed. “The four of you, take him to the infirmary where he can receive treatment.”

Vullen heard a voice from behind. “Rajuc did well. You are an extraordinary mentor to him.”

He turned to face him. “He applied himself as he should, Captain.”

“This ship’s been in upper orbit around Earth for months now. When are you going to fill me in on your mission here?”

“I was commissioned to execute a secret operation. I am unable to divulge the details of my mission even to you, Captain.  You will know everything when I am ready to give it.”

“No, I need to know now. This battle cruiser and its crew are my responsibility, and there are too many questionable circumstances that may endanger my ship. Drezdon is dead and the ISF from Toiyabe wants you brought in for questioning... that in itself is suspicious.”

“While we are here, you will use Drezdon’s Earth name, Dustin VanPelt. I want no confusion when we talk about any one individual.”

“Your carelessness and incompetence has jeopardized your mission.”

Vullen moved toward the captain in quiet rage, taking deep breaths, his open hand hovering near the captain’s neck, stopping short of assaulting him. “Captain, do not anger me further. You tend to your business and let me do mine,” he said in a forceful tone. Outside the Knights of the Black Suns, Vullen had a compelling personality with a complex set of unpredictable principles. That ideology demanded respect and apprehension from those around him.

“Dustin looked up to you, Vullen. Even though he is human, weak minded and frail, he worked hard at being a good Draconian.”

“Not hard enough, Captain. Only two of us knew the mission parameters, Dustin and myself. He was trying to become something he never could be, a KBS agent. If carelessness is to blame for this mess, he alone bears it. High Command figured since he was an American citizen, we might be able infiltrate their defenses with better efficiency to gain the information we needed.

“I was against that decision and now it appears I was correct in my assessment.” Vullen turned to see Rajuc being carried out of the room. “There are issues that I need to attend to on the surface of the planet. I must leave. You will hear from me in time.”

The sound of a lawnmower captured Jack’s attention and glanced out the window to see Megan cutting grass. He slipped into a shirt, walked to the patio and watched her mow with some curious absorption.

When she came back toward him, she shut it down. “How are you this morning?”

“Actually not bad, I must be getting better because I feel like I want to do something.”

“Did you eat breakfast?”

“Had a couple of pieces of toast and coffee while watching the news. Say, let me finish this. I need to earn my keep around here.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t. You pay me well enough for rent already.”

“The rent doesn’t cover the great dinners you cook for me and going after things I need at the store. Besides, I think the exercise will do me good.”

“Okay, but take it slow and if you get tired, quit.”

“Will do, but you’ll have to start it. I can’t recall ever using one of these.” Jack laughed, “Must be selective amnesia.”

Megan clamped onto the safety cutoff handle with her left hand and pulled the rope. She stood by and watched for a few minutes to see if he was going to be okay. Jack glanced at her and gave her a lazy salute. She headed for the house and just as she walked through the door the phone rang. “Hello.”

“Hi Megan, this is Logan Pyke, how’s Jack doing this morning?”

“Very well... he’s out back mowing the yard for me.”

“He’s what, you mean to tell me he’s actually mowing grass?”

“Yep.” She chuckled.

“You must be having a profound effect on him and for the better I might add. Say, I’m sorry I couldn’t get over there yesterday. I had company business.”

“Oh that’s alright. He slept most of the day anyway.”

“Megan, we appreciate you going above and beyond normal expectations to help us out. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, we enjoy having a man around the house. Deb has become rather attached to Jack. She’s turned into his personal nurse.” She laughed. “Jack gets all the attention around here. She spoon-feeds him soup in bed and orders him to eat because he needs to get his strength back, gets him a cool rag and places it on his forehead, makes him lie down when he looks tired, keeps him covered up and when he is awake, and they talk. She’s a handful but I think he enjoys the attention.”

“I feel more at ease knowing he’s in good hands. Tell him I have to go on some business calls and will be over there tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Bye.”

Megan hung up and thought something didn’t feel right about Logan and Jack. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it hadn’t sounded her inner alarm just yet. She started doing the dishes when Debbie walked up from behind.

“Can I help, Mommy?”

“That’d be nice and after we’re done, I’ll give you some cake and milk. Whaddaya think?”

“Oh, goodie.” Debbie ran to grab the plastic stool, set it by the dish drainer rack and stood on it.

“You dry the forks and spoons — the glasses and plates can air dry.” She handed her a towel.

“Okay.”

Just after they finished up, Megan heard the mower shut off. That was quick. She looked out the window and saw him walking toward his door. Debbie sat at the table and Megan set her cake and milk in front of her. She then poured a glass of iced tea.

“Are you having tea? You never drink tea this early.”

“This is for Jack.”

“Can I go too?”

“Sit and finish your cake, I’ll be right back.”

By the time she came through the side gate, she noticed him sitting in the recliner. “Thanks for mowing the yard. You did it so fast.” She handed him the tea.

Jack took a few big gulps. “Mmm, that hit the spot.”

“Has your memory returned yet — even a little?”

“No, not yet.” His gaze went distant staring at the lake. “I get a flash of images on occasion . . . some of them nightmarish. It’s unsettling to sense something I can’t remember. But, the doctor said my past should return and according to him, it may come back in an instant.” Jack sat up to face her. “Let’s not dwell on the inexplicable; I have some good news to hand out for a change.”

“Oh, I’m always up for something happy, what do you have?”

“Hope you won’t be upset with me, but I took it upon myself to get Debbie a bike.”

“You what? Oh Jack, you really shouldn’t have.”

“Look behind you.”

Megan turned and gasped. “Oh my God, it’s identical. How did you manage that? It’s . . . it’s amazing.”

Debbie told me what happened, and she gave me a photo.”

“But when — how?”

“A good friend dropped it by yesterday morning.”

She grasped his hand with both hands. “Thank you, Jack, that’s so sweet.”

“You’re welcome. Call her down and I want you to give it to her. She’d like it better coming from her mother.”

“Debbie,” she shouted at the kitchen window. “Debbie.”

“Yes, Mommy.”

“Come down here, quick!”

With urgency, she hurried out the front door and ran through the gate heading toward them. “Stop right there,” Megan said.

She halted thinking she had done something wrong.

“Close your eyes and cover them with your hands.” Megan quietly rolled the bike in front of her, braced it with the kickstand, and backed away. “Okay, open them.”

Debbie gasped, her eyes wide as saucers, toe jumping. “My bike — it’s my bike! Thank you, Mommy, thank you.” She rushed to it running her hand over the leather seat, inhaling the new smells while admiring the shiny smooth pink frame and chromed handlebars.

“Don’t thank me, honey, thank Jack. He’s the one that got it for you.”

She ran to him, gifting him with a hug. “I love my bike, thanks, Jack.” She ran back to it. “Can I take it out on the sidewalk, can I, can I?”

“Yes, but stay in sight of me.”

Jack watched her pushing her bike toward the gate. “You know, I was trying to make you the hero, and you just sucked all the pleasure out of it. A kid should have fond memories with her mom.”

“I couldn’t take credit for that, I want to bring her up with a sense of integrity.”

“Good kid you have there.”

“She can be a handful at times.” Megan observed him watching Debbie enjoying her ride and a sensation overwhelmed her, one of attraction and desire. All of a sudden, awareness trumped that one; it was one of sobering guilt. Could it be too soon after the death of Debbie’s father? She backed her emotions away and hid them in a safe place. “Thanks so much, Jack.”

He smiled. “You’re welcome.”

Seven

Logan and Sims called an emergency meeting with Mr. Fox. They both agreed that considering the urgency and magnitude of the situation with Vullen, they should propose another strategy. When they entered the room, General Bradley sat facing Fox in front of his desk.

“Excuse the mess. I’m still getting organized in my new office,” Fox said. “I looked over the report you emailed me. After that encounter at Creekmore Mining, I’m glad you two are still in one piece.”

“As I,” Bradley said. “It sounds as though Vullen was expecting you.”

Pyke sat. “Nothing he does surprises me, General.”

“What’s on your mind?” Fox asked.

“After our confrontation with Vullen, Sims and I have been discussing this assignment. Whatever reason he has for being here, we suspect it involves more than achieving an attack on this country. It may be much bigger.”

“Yes, he doesn’t do anything halfway,” Fox said. “According to the Orion Chronicles, on Alpha Centauri, Draconis High Command sent General Vullen to lead an assault on one of that world’s most powerful military. Against overwhelming odds, he defeated their line of defense and now the empire occupies a third of the planet.

“On another mission, Vullen took over the gold mines on Nettis Four and enslaved the indigenous beings to dig the ore. He destroyed most of the life on Avanda Minor with a contagious bacterium because the life forms threatened to settle on a planet too close to Draconis space. I could go on and on over the size and scope of Vullen’s missions, so what are you proposing?”

Logan rested his arms on the desktop and looked him in the eye. “We need help — we need Narayanan.”

“Seetharaman Narayanan? Oh no — no, no, no. No can do,” Bradley said with a groan, shaking his head. “It took forever to get him transferred out of Toiyabe. He was a major pain in my backside. I got so backed up in paperwork because of him, I could never catch up. He’s a maverick who lives by another set of rules, HIS rules.”

“We’ll take responsibility for him and keep him out of your hair, sir,” Sims said.

“You’ll take responsibility. Somehow that doesn’t make me feel any better.”

“Like it or not, we need the best. Narayanan knows the Draconians better than anyone,” Logan said. “And he’s proved himself time and time again to be a valuable contributor to the team.”

Bradley sighed with frustration, opened his laptop computer, searched through some file folders and opened a file. He handed the computer to Fox. “There’s a problem. A year ago, Narayanan went back to Britain. He joined the Secret Intelligent Service MI6 headquartered out of Vauxhall, London. Five months ago the U.S. partnered with Britain and gave him an undercover mission to infiltrate the Russian Deep Space program.” He looked at Logan. “Do you know about the planet Reglas Minor?”

He leaned on the backrest of his seat in thought and said, “Under Treaty D703, it prohibits any discussion over its existence to the humans here. All I’ve heard is it’s half the size of Earth and orbiting near the outer reaches of this system.”

Ah yes, I filled out a report on that at the Orion Chronicles a year ago,” Fox said. “The Alliance permitted the Polluxians to build a base of operations on Reglas Minor to study an unusual space amoeba surviving in frozen water on asteroids in proximity near the planet. Their trajectory will put those asteroids passing by Earth at two hundred fifty thousand nautical miles. There is a concern if that life form somehow reaches Earth, there may be detrimental effects on the oceans of the world.”

Logan gave him a puzzled look. “What does this have to do with Narayanan?”

Bradley took a sip of his coffee and set it back on the table. “The Russians discovered Reglas Minor from a deep space probe that just happened to approach the planet’s orbital path. The probe sent photos back showing life signs on the surface of the planet.”

“The Polluxians...” Logan said.

“Yep, the Russians are building a surface-rover to investigate it. If the news gets out about the damage these space amoebas might do to our environment, it’s believed fear and worldwide panic will result.” Bradley glanced at Fox to see if he had anything to add.

“And Narayanan?” Sims asked.

“The British Judicial Committee on Space Exploration charged him for being a double agent colluding with the Russians,” Bradley said.

“General, he could no more be treasonous than you could,” Logan said.

“I know... I dislike the man, but I could never believe he would be a traitor. Though, MI6 did find sensitive intelligence including the probe’s photo files on Reglas Minor sewn in the cuff of his jacket. The U.S. Defense Department imprisoned Narayanan in Texas. Narayanan claims he doesn’t know how the flash-drive got there. For what it’s worth, I believe someone set him up.”

“We need to get some strings pulled to get him out,” Logan said.

Fox contemplated the situation for a moment. “Easier said than done.”

“Sir, may I suggest going right to the top,” Sims said.

“The President? Tough call. I don’t want to do an end-around on the Senate Sub-committee on ET Intelligence. If I can get them on our side first, I’d have a better chance to convince the President. I’ll be in touch,” Fox said.

“I can’t impress enough the importance for getting Narayanan out.” Logan stood to leave. “If anyone can pull this off, you can, Mr. Fox.”

Beaumont Federal Prison, Texas – One week later:

Three of Willie Breed’s bodyguards escorted Narayanan to the laundry room. They sat him on a chair under a single bright light and tied his hands behind his back. Breed, a short, dark-skinned black man walked with a limp, an injury received during a prison break while serving life for racketeering and accessory to murder.  As one of a small group of prisoners recognized as Shot Callers, he took part in governing the population.

Daemon, Breed’s lieutenant, stood six feet, shirtless with rippling six-pack abs and bulging biceps. A tattoo on his right upper chest flaunted his gang name Dead Men Calling with 666 scrolling down his neck below his left ear. The most notable characteristic was his wavy long blonde hair flowing over his shoulders resembling a WWE pro wrestler.

Breed pulled up a chair near Narayanan, speaking in a low tone. “You remember Daemon. On your first day here, you made him look bad in front of his cell mates. He’s been itching to get back at you since then.”

Narayanan looked up at him. “Hey there Goldilocks, I hope you had your Wheaties this morning because I’m going to wear you out.”

Daemon clenched his fist and swung at him, hitting him on the jaw with such force that his chin lined up with his right shoulder.

Narayanan shook his head to straighten it out. “Nice punch. I never thought I’d see the day when I’d get beaten up by a woman.”

Daemon started to hit him again, but Breed held up his hand. “I like you Narrie, but everyone who comes into our house has to be part of the family and follow the rules. There are no lone wolves here. You can’t just do whatever you want.”

“Well, I appreciate how much you care about me, Willie, but I’ve always been a self-motivator, if you know what I mean.”

Breed nodded and the fist came down again.

Blood spurted from Narayanan’s mouth. He turned his head and spat on the floor. “Got a cigarette?”

Daemon put one in his mouth and lit it.

“I hate these things — they’ll kill you, you know. But, I do smoke occasionally... when I get really drunk. I suppose either one will eventually put you in a grave.” Narayanan was five foot-ten, medium build, muscularly toned, shoulder length dark brown hair, brown eyes with a youthful complexion. Born and raised in England, his mother was British Caucasian and his father from India.

Breed got in Narayanan’s face. “Let me tell you something. In here, we have a constitution and guidelines that define our expectations. Our Rules of Conduct are written in blood, Narayanan.”

“Oh, who’s blood...?”

Breed sighed, rolled his eyes and glared at him. “It’s only an expression.”

“Okay, I was just wondering cause I know it wasn’t my blood.”

“I don’t wanna’ hurt you, but you’re making me look bad here. If we don’t demand solidarity and cohesion, we will become fragmented and ineffective. Do you understand what I’m sayin’ to you?”

“Can you repeat that? You kinda’ lost me after cohesion.” He looked up at his punisher. “Are you getting tired yet?”

Daemon shook his head. “Nope, I’m just warming up.”

“Oh, you can put a sentence together. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

He reared his fist back.

“Oh brother, incoming,” Narayanan whispered to himself. That one felt as though it rattled his teeth. He blinked several times noticing his cigarette bent in half. He spit it out and looked at Breed. “I think you’re starting to convince me a little. I’m not quite there yet but close.”

Breed laughed. “I’ve never seen anyone that could take a punch like you.”

Suddenly, whistles from prison guards wailed at the end of the hall, and everyone involved in the punishment scattered. Breed leaned over whispering in his ear, “Remember what I said. Follow the rules or get more of the same.”

“Thanks for the heads-up, Willie. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Breed smiled large, lightly smacked him on the face and chuckled. “I like you, Narayanan, you make me laugh.”

By the time the guards converged on the trouble, Narayanan was alone, tied to the chair, bleeding, and looking up at the uniforms surrounding him.

“Hey fellahs, an ice cold beer sure sounds good about now. Got one handy?”

The sergeant growled. “When are you going to accept prison justice, when they put you in a wheel chair for life? You have visitors. Better get you cleaned up so you won’t be such a sight.” He glanced at a deputy. “Untie this A-hole and get him to the infirmary.”

After getting patched up, a guard led Narayanan through one steel-bar door, through two heavy steel doors, down a hallway and into a side room marked 3B. The guard left and locked the door behind him. After fifteen minutes, he heard the door latch unlock. “Well, look who we have here; if it isn’t Scully and Mulder.”

“Hey Narrie, looks like you’ve been in another bar-room brawl,” Sims said.

He cringed a little with a quiet grunt as he turned to face her. “Nope, just me and the boys playing a friendly game of basketball.” He paused, and turned back to Logan. “So, how the hell is the world treating you?”

“I have no complaints.”

“That’s saying something, I suppose.” Narayanan was a man of many layers. To those who knew him well, he was a warm and relaxed individual with a sharp wit, often keeping his thoughts to himself and rarely showing his emotions. However, when it came to his work, he became a fearless and daring agent, not afraid to take risks and always ready for action. “What brings you guys to the house?”

“Beg your pardon. Have you ever seen a guy with boobs this big?” Sims mused out loud.

“Now that you mention it, the fellah I just got through playing basketball with has knockers that big.”

Sims grinned. “Incorrigible as usual, aye Narrie?”

“We have an urgent matter to discuss with you,” Logan said. “I can’t disclose the specifics because we’re in an unsecured area. I can tell you it involves an old nemesis of yours, Vullen.”

“Oh, how’s the old boy getting’ along?”

Sims moved to a corner and leaned. “He’s turning into a major headache.”

“Where do I fit in?”

Logan unfolded a piece of paper and handed the official-looking document to him. “You’ve been granted a full pardon by the Prime Minister of Britain and the President of the United States with conditions.”

He glanced over the document with a granite expression. “What conditions?”

Logan sat across the table from him. “You’ll take orders from me and help us apprehend or kill said suspect. The ethics and guidelines of the ISF Agency will be adhered to at all times, etcetera, etcetera.”

Narrie gazed at Logan with passive nonchalance. “I don’t know . . . it’s rather cushiony here. I get three squares a day, a place to flop, play sports with the boys and watch TV. What more can a guy ask for?”

Logan scowled. “Yeah, we heard. You’re getting into fights three to four times a week. You put two in the hospital last month and knowing you, you’re bored to death in this dump so cut the crap. Quit thinking of yourself for once, Narrie. You are needed out there and you won’t be happy until you’re back in the saddle.”

“Spare me the metaphors.”

Logan slid the documents across the table with a pen lying on top. “Those aren’t my conditions. I didn’t write the damn language and I’m not dictating the terms, so don’t look at me that way. We’ve worked together too long, we know how each other thinks, we can anticipate each other’s actions. We’re up against an extremely dangerous adversary and we need your help. I agree with Sims. Damn it, Narayanan, cut the BS... are you in or not?”

“Well, since you asked me so nicely, when can I get out of here?”

Logan smiled at Sims and turned back to face him. “Sign the papers and we’ll leave right now. We’ll go get you some new duds, take you to the barber and then get you a hotel room where you can get ready to go to work.”

“Whup, you forgot one major step.”

Logan sighed with cooled irritation. “What’s that?”

“We have to go for a thick juicy steak dinner with an ice cold beer.”

Sims smiled. “Sure, we can arrange that.”

“Well then, where do I sign?”

Logan leaned toward him, pointing to two places. “And date them. Tomorrow morning we’re going to see Mr. Fox and General Bradley.”

“Who is this Mr. Fox?”

“Our new boss and the reason they released you.”

“How is the ole general getting along? Does he still get red-faced when he doesn’t get his way?”

“It’s called the chain-of-command... like any of us the general has higher-ups that he has to answer to. He’s just doing his job.  I think it’d be a good idea to set his mind at ease,” Logan said.

“About what?”

“Don’t be coy; you know damn well what I’m talking about.”

“Can I buy a vowel? Give me a hint for Christ’s sake.”

Logan shook his head and sighed. “Don’t play deaf-dumb-and-blind with me. If we didn’t need you so bad, they could’ve left your ass in this hell-hole until the end of time. Remember when we were interrogating two Desutians near Chicago? We were just supposed to get some information, but you had to beat the crap out of one of them. I spent all night filling out paperwork to fly him to Toiyabe to receive medical treatment. Bradley chewed a portion of my ass off for letting the operation get out of hand.”

“That Desutian carried a Sujutt’s Atom Scrambler under his jacket. I was lucky to get a glimpse of it when he bent over to pick up his container of recreational drugs. It’s illegal to carry one of those here, and he knew it.”

“Yes, but you should’ve called in an Inspection and Enforcement Authorization first before you assaulted him, that’s the law,” Sims said.

“The little bastard could’ve pulled it on us while we were upholding the law. All three of us might’ve been turned into a puddle of goo,” Narrie said. “Guidelines and laws are fine when you’re dealing with law-abiding individuals. But criminals, whether they are ETs or humans, don’t give a rat’s ass about the law. That’s why they’re called outlaws,” he growled, using both hands to form quotation marks with his fingers.

“My first partner was chicken-fried crispy by an outlaw ET with a similar weapon. And it was all because he didn’t want to infringe on the idiot’s rights. I watched him suffer in agony for twenty minutes before he died.” Narrie’s eyes gravitated to the floor, staring into empty space. “That was the longest twenty minutes of my life.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Sims said. “Agents lose people they’re close to sometimes, but promise us you’ll at least attempt to follow standard operating procedures. No one ever said this job would be safe.”

“Sims is right; we understood the risk when we signed on. The important thing is that we watch each other’s back,” Logan said.

Narayanan raised his eyes glaring at Logan and slid the signed papers across the table to him. “Let’s get out of this damned festering hell hole.”

Eight

A knock came at the door. “I’ll get it, I’ll get it,” Debbie shouted, sprinting toward the foyer. She twisted the latch and tugged on it, gazing up at two imposing figures.

“Hi Debbie, remember me, I’m Jack’s friend, Logan. Is your mommy here?”

“Mom, Jack’s friend wants to talk to you,” she shouted with a drawl.

Megan hurried around the corner. “Hi, Mr. Pyke.”

“Hi Megan, this is an associate of ours, Seetharaman Narayanan.”

“My pleasure, ma’am.”

“Likewise.”

“How’s Jack doing? Has he said anything about his memory returning?”

“The only thing mentioned is he’s bad dreams and nightmarish images flashing in his head.”

“I’m not surprised, anyone that survived a horrific tractor-trailer accident is very lucky. It stunned me to hear he mowed the lawn. He must be able to get around much better now.”

“Well, I’m no doctor, but he seems to be handling some light duty okay.”

“Great, unless we get called out, it looks as though we’ll stay the night.”

“Okay, there are plenty of blankets and pillows in the backroom closet. There’s also an air mattress in there but it has a slow leak, just pump it up once in a while. If you all need anything else, call me.”

“We’ll be just fine, thanks,” Logan said.  He turned and Narrie followed him down the front steps, through the side gate and opened the front door to the basement apartment, raising his voice. “Jack, it’s Logan, I’m here.”

Jack appeared from the bedroom. “Hey.” He gazed at the stranger to Pyke’s left. “Who’s this?”

“You weren’t kiddin’ partner,” Narrie whispered, “he’s a few Cracker Jacks shy of a handful.”

“This is Seetharaman Narayanan. His friends call him Narrie. You don’t remember him, do you?”

“Am I supposed to?”

“We were on a search-and-seizure assignment when you almost got smoked by three Arians,” Narrie said.

Jack leaned against the kitchen sink scratching his temple. “Arians?”

Logan pulled out a chair from the dinner table and sat. “Sit down, Jack . . . Arians are inner-Earth people. They are blonde Nordic humanoids who live in their own world beneath the Himalayan mountain range near Napal. They call their home Agartha. The Arian’s ancestors lived on the planet Nortasta before the Great War thousands of years ago. At one point in their history, they were supposedly captured by reptilians and given memory implants. Unlike yours though, theirs were permanent.

“Anyway, eighteen months ago we got a tip to go to Kathmandu, India to investigate an Arian mob. Sims and the three of us were following a ring of precious-metal buyers for platinum and gold. Treaty UM-725 states that it only allows extraterrestrials to buy fifty ounces of precious metals, depending on the species. We found out that the Arians were hoarding. The trail led us to a nightclub owner on the west side, and we cornered an Arian in the hallway leading to the bathrooms.”

“This ET was a real wimp,” Narrie said. “He started cryin’ like a baby when I slapped him around a little.”

Logan reached in the fridge to get a bottle of water and discovered. “Beer, who bought the beer?” He smiled large.

“Sims told me how much you enjoy it, so I had Megan pick up a couple six-packs,” Jack said.

“Great, want one?”

“I’m in no shape for that.”

Logan held a can up to Narayanan.

He nodded.

After handing Narrie a cold one, he popped the top and guzzled. “Oh, that’s sooo good.” Logan set the can on the table and continued. “We led the Arian out in the back where we could coerce him into spilling his guts on where the rest of his boys were. Six of his buddies came out of nowhere and knocked you out cold with a club. One of them was ready to put a slug in your head, but Narrie took him out first. Arians are not good at fighting so we neutralized the situation within a minute.”

“In other words, we kicked their asses,” Narrie said.

Jack’s face went stoic. “Yeah, I kinda’ figured that part out.” He scrubbed his scalp to release his bottled up tension. “Are you sure you fellahs have the right guy. This just doesn’t sound like anything I’d be involved in at all.”

Narrie placed his index finger on his temple while gazing at Jack. “Implants.”

“You don’t talk much, do you.”

“Only when I have something to say, Jack.”

“Any improvement with your memory?” Logan asked.

“I have nightmares and this will sound weird, but once in a while I’ll have images of strange looking creatures. And, there are other things that bother me. Sims says I never liked children yet I adore Debbie. I understand what a lawnmower is but I can’t remember ever using one. Megan had to start it for me. Very confusing.”

“Remember what I told you, if you relate to something or someone, the implants will fill in the blanks, like what happened with Megan,” Logan said. “What did you call her, Stacy? This woman never existed in your previous life. When you saw her for the first time, that’s when a full implanted memory scenario of Stacy came to life in your head. You thought she was your long lost lover.”

“I said nothing to her, but I still feel the same way.” He sighed. “This is so messed up it hurts to even think sometimes. You and Sims have mentioned that VanPelt person. I can almost sense him, he’s very elusive though.”

“Dustin VanPelt was a good friend of yours until you suspected him of dealing in espionage at Toiyabe. That’s why you went to Cryogenics and found him talking with Vullen. You shot Dustin and he died. You discovered Vullen’s mission plans, so somewhere in that head of yours are the answers to what Vullen is up to.”

“Vullen didn’t come here to have a quiet picnic on a sunny afternoon. Time is running out,” Narrie mused.

Jack stood, anxious, restless and paced in front of the table. “Damn it, I can’t force it out! I have concentrated on this until my head hurts. I know the gravity of this situation, but everything is so friggen blanked out.”

“Relax. Beating yourself up is doing nothing more than making the situation more frustrating. That can shut you down even quicker. You’re not yourself right now and we understand that, but communication is important and there should be no breaks in it. So, try not to take it so hard. Ease up, your memories will return when they’re ready.”

“Be patient, when it comes back it’ll be a game changer, partner,” Narrie said. “But in the meantime, try not to get upset when we ask about it. We aren’t trying to pressure you; we just need to be updated.”

By the next evening, Logan and Narayanan were standing on a two hundred fifty-foot cliff in the Nez Perce Clearwater National Forest, Rocky Mountains, Idaho. They faced an entrance to a network of tunnels leading to cavernous areas. Wooden post & beams weren’t used to shore up walls of dirt and rock but rather bored through the mountain with a tunneling laser machine. The Lyran contractor processed the walls and floors with a form of vitrification up to four inches thick that gave the retentive surface a smooth, satin appearance.

The Lyran Nordics were humanoids between seven to eight feet tall. The Orion Alliance of Planets negotiated with Earth authorities for the Lyrans to use this remote location as a base of operations. They stored minerals and ores to maintain their ships that come to this quadrant of the galaxy. Opportunity to sell to other ETs allowed them to deal in commerce to pay the people that work there.

Logan figured this may be a good place to start since he knew a Lyran by the name of Arlon Roosh that worked in the acquisition department. Roosh was privy to a lot of hearsay through the diverse ET population that he meets on a regular basis. He knows everybody that’s anybody and not much gets past him.

Logan and Narrie walked through a tunnel entrance and past a row of offices where they collected curious stares. They passed an eatery as a line formed to buy a hot morning drink called effren, climbed a set of stairs and walked through a narrow corridor. They approached the third tier cavernous rim that housed the command dispatch center and pushed through the door.

“How’ve you been, Roosh?” Logan said.

“Oh Logan — and Narayanan, I’m about as glad to see you as I would a festering boil on the cheek of my ass. What are you here to hassle me for this time?”

“Now Roosh, that’s not a very nice way to treat old friends, is it?” Logan said.

“About as well as you treated me the last time you were here. We Lyrans are a peaceful species filled with nothing but good intentions, yet I got into trouble up to my ears.” Roosh was heavyset for a Lyran, short blonde hair with a unibrow, and the fleshy parts of his cheeks jiggled when he talked.

“Your operation is licensed to carry and sell a small inventory of off-planet minerals for repairs on Lyran ships parking in Earth’s space. Three months ago you tried to sell a pallet of illegal weapon’s grade trivite to the Arcturians. They use it to make a fuel to run their proton power generators,” Logan said.

He belly-laughed, his eyes squeezing shut. “That was a big misunderstanding, trivite got mixed up with crates of seravite . . . could happen to anybody.” He changed the subject, snickering at Narayanan. “I bet you miss the slammer since getting out, aye Narrie?”

“It’s Narayanan to you, Roosh and yes I do. In there, I didn’t have to stomp around the Rockies to interrogate some ugly, hairy Lyran.”

Roosh huffed. “Why...”

“We could’ve dragged your butt to Toiyabe for a hearing, but we didn’t so you owe us one,” Logan said.

Roosh’s face went stolid, his lips sagging at the ends of his mouth. “So, what do I have to do to satisfy this debt I owe?”

“A little information. We’re gathering intelligence on a Draconian named Vullen. He changed his base of operations to the Orion system and became a KBS agent. The intel we received tells us that he and the Draconis Emperor are close, and that he’s done undercover mercenary work in the past for the empire. He appeared in our network four months ago. He’s been keeping a low profile until this past month.”

Roosh’s eyes widened at the sound of the unwelcomed name.

Narrie noticed the subtlety of his changed expression. “So, you have some history involving this Drac, yes?”

“No, no I haven’t. Never met him, don’t want to meet him. I hear he’s dangerous.”

“And that’s why we’re here,” Logan said. “It could be bad for everyone on Earth including the Lyrans. You communicate with a lot of different ETs, so have you heard any reason for Vullen being here? And if so, is he plotting to do harm? We need to find out where he is.”

Roosh glanced around at his coworkers who had already gotten over their curiosity with the visitors. “Follow me.” He led them into an empty side office where their conversation could be held in private. He handed them a grave stare. “You do realize this looks very suspicious.” He pointed in the direction of the main room. “I have to work with them. How am I going to explain this?”

“Tell them we’re doctors and you’re having a lobotomy.”

“Very funny, Narrie — uh, Narayanan. Don’t quit your day job.” He looked at Logan in disgust. “You are Pleiadian, why do you partner with this low life scumbag?”

Narrie grinned. “Why Roosh, coming from the likes of you, I regard that as a compliment considering we are scraping bottom being here talking to you.”

Logan surged toward Roosh with visible impatience. “Lay off! Narayanan’s good at what he does and he’s my friend. Now, if you are so concerned over your coworkers, you can use the excuse that we’re here to follow up on the trivite incident. Just say we need to close the case. So, what do you have for us?”

“There’s talk about Lord Vullen... something to do with the Draconis Emperor sending him here on a special mission. Thousands of years ago, the Dracs claimed this planet for a military way-station in this sector of the galaxy.”

“That’s old news, Roosh, why would that crabby emperor want to have anything to do with this dirt farm?” Logan asked.

Narrie pulled out a stick of gum from his shirt pocket, and glanced at Logan. “Well, they don’t play golf, so that can’t be it.” He peeled the foil back, slipping it between his teeth.

“My source said the Dracs are interested in terraforming a planet two hundred sixty-one light years on the other side of the galaxy from them. Alpha Hathera, I believe. It has water and it’s loaded with minerals, especially gold,” Roosh said.

Logan paced in front of the office desk pondering the possible volatile situation. “And Earth will be an excellent way-station for them to make the jump there. Maybe they want a remote location on an island or a base under the ocean. But then they wouldn’t be able to get by with the massive contingency of Dracs needed to carry out a task that large — not to mention the materials to support them.”

“Or they may want to play war with an apocalyptic ending. That always seems to turn them on for some reason,” Narrie said.

“You may not be that far off, and that’s what we have to find out and fast.”

Roosh shot them the grim look of dread. “They don’t want just an island.”

Logan gazed at him in puzzlement. “Say again.”

“You’re just not getting it,” Roosh said. “They want the whole planet.”

Narrie cleared his throat. “Did our lease just run out? If they refuse to renew it, can we sue them,” he said with jocular sardonicism.

Logan gazed at the floor in thought and then faced Roosh. “Do you have any idea where he is?”

“Now wait right there, Logan. I’ve already spilled my guts and if Vullen finds out, he will come here and do it for real!”

“We’ll keep this meeting secret.”

“Oh no, don’t go there with me. This rooster’s been around the hen house quite a few times. You have to give me something to chew on... Say for instance, if we have another slight misunderstanding, you’ll give me a break.”

Logan was about to speak when the word “Done” flew from Narrie’s mouth. Logan glared at him with an insolent scowl while Roosh talked.

“A friend of mine in shipping heard that he might be hiding out in Antica City. I imagine it’s a lot easier for him to disappear there, if you get my meaning.”

“For a Black Suns’ agent, there’s an awful lot of scuttlebutt flying around,” Narrie said.

Logan nodded. “That’s what happens after your cover gets blown and you get caught up in a homicide investigation.”

Narayanan looked at Roosh. “When were you going to tell us this?”

“Hey, quit bustin’ my chops. I’m under no obligation to tell you anything so feel lucky I did.”

“I can’t argue that point,” Logan said. “We’ll be in touch. In the meantime, say nothing to anybody.”

“Are you kidding? I want to keep my head attached to my shoulders.” As they were leaving, Roosh said, “Logan, here’s a piece of information free of charge. Under that mask, I hear Vullen is not Draconian but something else entirely.”

They stopped and turned, quietly gazing at him with curiosity for a few moments. “What is he then,” Logan asked.

Roosh shook his head. “I don’t know.”

They pivoted to the doorway and heard Roosh yell out, “Hey Logan, where’s your friend, Sims? How come she’s not with you instead of that maverick jag-off?”

Logan ignored the smugness of his comment as they made their way to the tunnel exit. The outside of the tunnel doorway led to a lip on the side of the mountain. Updrafts from wind current blew their hair above their heads. Logan stopped for quiet contemplation, looking out over the serene view of the Rocky Mountains’ dense trees and underbrush. The sound of Narayanan’s voice broke his train of thought.

“Draconians rarely mix their personal business with beings other than Dracs. What do you make of Roosh’s comment about Vullen being something else?”

“Hmm, not sure but it’s crucial we find out. That may be another piece to the puzzle.”

“Okay Chief, so what’s our next move?”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Roosh’s lead sounds solid enough. I think we ought to get Sims and go to Antica City.”

“Agreed, let’s get back to Toiyabe and bring Mr. Fox up to date on what we found out from Roosh.”

They started down the deer path that ran along the side of the mountain for a quarter mile where they parked their car off-road.

Narrie chuckled. “Antica City. This’ll be a fun assignment.”

“Don’t know about that.”

“Isn’t it weird that those stupid ETs can’t say Antarctica? That just cracks me up.”

Logan’s left foot slipped on some gravel. “Damn it; remind me to wear tennis shoes next time we have to come here. I don’t see why they won’t give us a lift to the car, is that too much to ask?”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

Nine

Onboard the Draconis battle cruiser ThoPok, Vullen met the First Officer as he disembarked his shuttlecraft.

“It’s our honor to have you back onboard, sir. The captain instructed me to escort you to the briefing room.”

“Very well, lead on, Commander Nariv.”

They walked through the landing bay and into the hallway leading past the Engine’s Particle Drive station on one side and Maintenance on the other. As Nariv and Vullen followed the corridor, it was like Moses parting the Red Sea, scores of the lower rank stood at attention until they passed.

“I read about your Elon Four campaign in the Orion system,” Nariv said. “You must’ve been brought up in a disciplined environment to think and process strategy in such a precise, defined manner. It was a very impressive victory, sir.”

“It takes a certain degree of mental acuity, work ethic and sacrifice, Commander. Maybe you should give the Black Suns a try.”

They reached the turbo lift and entered. Nariv pushed the button for the Bridge and smiled. “No, I don’t have what it takes, especially trying to make it through the Karpek Daèju ceremony. It’s my goal to gain the experience to someday command my own ship. I was very fortunate to be assigned First Officer of the ThoPok.”

The door opened with a dull thud and they exited. “That would be an honorable position. Good luck to you, Commander.”

“And to you, General.”

Nariv walked to the captain’s briefing room and pushed the door button; it separated and he walked through followed by Vullen. Captain Ondou was sitting behind his desk immersed in paperwork. “Captain, General Vullen is here to see you, sir.”

Ondou glanced up at Nariv. “Dismissed, Commander.”

Vullen stood near the front of his desk. “You wanted to see me, Captain?”

Ondou stood and paced, appearing anxious. “Yes, I understand your requirement for a classified status, General, but I need to find out if you are now going to brief me on your mission, sir. We’ve had this conversation several times already. If there is conflict with my command or if this ship is in peril, then I must be made aware of it.”

“It would be inappropriate to discuss my mission, Captain. That information is on a need-to-know basis, and no one outside a choice few has authorization to have access. If things go badly, Emperor Gortac and the Draconis High Command will never acknowledge my presence here.”

“What’s the situation with the Toiyabe base and your dealings with ETS and ISF agents. The heads of departments are on high alert after the incident in Cryogenics and Dustin VanPelt’s death. Seems they are prepared to revoke our landing permit to shuttle to the surface. That will not sit well with the Draconis Senate.”

“The senate has no power over the emperor.”

“The ISF is hot on your tail, and if this ship is threatened, I will restrict your boarding it.”

Vullen glared at him through his reptilian shaped mask. “I am growing weary of your insolence, Captain Ondou. I have given you more warnings than most. Do not annoy me further on this matter.”

The captain stood in haste, slamming his fist to his desk. “Don’t test me, General! I have a higher obligation to this ship. And since I don’t know what the mission is, I refuse to jeopardize it or its crew. Do I make myself clear?”

“If I were to test you, Captain, you might not live long enough to know whether you passed,” he growled, turned and left. Once out on the Bridge, he held up his wrist and spoke into a communication device. “Rajuc, meet in your quarters in ten minutes.”

“Yes sir.”

Vullen reset his communicator and spoke again, “Commander Norrtar, I wish to speak with you in your quarters right away.”

“I am on my way. It’s Deck three, door sixteen, my Setti.”

Within minutes, he turned a corner, faced door sixteen and entered.

“Welcome sir, may your presence bless my quarters and give us success in our mission.”

“Is your place secure enough to discuss sensitive information?”

“I have inspected it myself.”

“The captain is being unreasonable. He expects me to reveal my mission parameters to him.”

“Will I get briefed?”

“No Commander, not even you. I cannot risk anyone knowing my purpose for being here unless it is necessary. I placed you and eight other KBS agents here to back me up if the need arises. You will continue to work as regular crew members until otherwise told. Do you have your orders to give to the captain if I have to activate you and your men?”

“Yes sir, I can requisition battle uniforms, weapons, a shuttle craft and anything I need to assist you.”

Vullen walked to the door and faced Norrtar, laying his hand on his shoulder. “It’s good to have a trusted friend working by my side.”

Norrtar bowed his head slightly. “Always, sir.”

“If the mission is exposed, you burn those orders and keep your mouth shut no matter what. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“I’ll be in touch.” He left through the door, making his way to Rajuc’s quarters. Within minutes, he was in his room talking with his student. “You did well at the Karpek Daèju. You have a warrior’s heart and spirit.”

“The task would have been impossible without your guidance and belief in me, my Setti.”

“Things are not going well for me on the surface. I’m under heavy scrutiny. The one positive thing I can say is they have no idea what I’m under suspicion for, at least not yet anyway. That can work to my advantage.” He stood to face Rajuc. “I need you to go with me, gather your things.”

Toiyabe Base, California

When Logan and Narayanan walked through the door, Mr. Fox, Sims and Bradley were sitting at the table waiting for them. “General Bradley, I brought an old associate with me,” Logan said.

Narayanan reached to shake his hand. “General.”

Bradley accepted it and nodded with a tight smile. “Hope you’re ready for some action.”

“I am, sir. The Gray Bar Hotel kept me in good shape.”

“Meet Mr. Fox,” Logan said.

“Mr. Phentox, sir. It’s an honor to see you again.”

Logan, Sims and Bradley glanced at each other, their mouths partially agape, amazed at how the name flowed over Narrie’s lips with definite familiarity.

“Mr. Fox, you never gave me any impression that you and Narayanan were acquainted,” Bradley said.

“Oh, we have some history.” Fox smiled at Narayanan. “Like the time in London when you snuck my granddaughter off the base and took her to a downtown night club. Her mother chewed me out for a week after you brought her back so drunk we had to carry her into the apartment.”

“Sir, Raelil never learned the meaning of the word no. I got into three shoving matches trying to protect her from the local wolves. They couldn’t keep their paws off her, and she kept on encouraging them. By the way, how’s she doing?”

“Fine... fine, she’s settled down since then.”

“That’s good to know.”

Mr. Fox looked at Logan. “You said this was important. What do you have for me?”

“We gave Arlon Roosh a visit and he believes Vullen has gone to Antica City.”

“That makes sense. There are several other places he could’ve chosen, but he can get lost much easier among the ETs at Antica.”

“We need Antican IEA documents, passports with an unlimited time-stamp and a shuttle standing by in case we have to make a quick exit.”

“Give me a minute.” Fox turned to his computer, opened the Customs Division internal website, typed in the request and pressed Enter. “It’ll take a couple of hours. You’d better go by the bank and requisition some gold and silver tokens so you can pay for rooms and living expenses while you are there. General Bradley’s assistant, Kaitlin, will have the forms ready in a few minutes.”

“Does intel have anything new on Vullen?” asked Sims.

“Nothing except this.” He reached into a side drawer, pulled out a piece of paper and handed it to Logan. “A warrant for the murder of Giorgio Sanchez at Creekmore Mining. If you’re able to nab him, this will help you with his extradition.”

“Thanks, sir. We’ll be in the cafeteria if you need us.”

As they were leaving, Mr. Fox directed a comment at Narayanan. “Stay out of trouble, son — if you can.”

Narayanan turned and grinned. “I’ll do my best, sir.”

Fox nodded with a delayed smile.

They stopped by Kaitlin’s desk to get their allowance requisition forms for the tokens. She handed Sims her form.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Why not?” Kaitlin asked.

“I don’t need money, and I can rest anywhere.”

“I want you to appear human. You can lock your door and rest in your own room,” Logan said.

“Why the front?”

“It doesn’t have to be a deep dark secret, Sims,” Logan said with slight irritation. “In the right situation, it may work to our advantage if everyone on the planet doesn’t know you are a molecular shape-shifter, especially if we get into a tight bind.”

“All right, all right, reduce to impulse speed, Captain. I was just asking a question.”

“Thanks for that Star Trek reference... I liked it.”

“Of course.” She groaned under her breath.

“How did the visit go with your patient?” Logan asked.

“He’s a little better, physically... no improvement in the memory department. He talks a lot about how the kid and her mother pamper him. The child had her bicycle stolen and he convinced me to provide her with a new one. He will be in for a rude awakening when he remembers how much he dislikes being around kids.”

Narayanan grinned. “Why Sims, you helped someone in need. You’re getting soft in your old age.”

She snickered. “Narrie, you’ve been with women long enough to know how to act around them.” She walked away exaggerating her hip-sway and glanced back at him. “Never use the word old in the same sentence when talking to a young woman.”

Narayanan raised his finger to make a comeback, but nothing clever came to him before she was out the door. He heard Logan chuckle behind him.

An hour and a half passed and they took the elevator to the heavy rail station on Sublevel 15. There, they hopped aboard a subway train and it traveled six miles through a tunnel to a spacecraft apron at ground level inside a remote mountain site. They met their pilot, an Atlan named Salat, a little person four feet in height looking similar to a Hobbit. Their species’ level of intelligence was exceptional on the technical plane.

“Please, come aboard and take your seats,” Salat said, his munchkin-like high-pitched voice rising above the maintenance crews working near his ship. “Once we reach orbital speed, the flight time to the Antica City Artery is ten minutes. We will be holding here until Air Traffic Control clears us to ascend.”

When the engine’s ion drive engaged, the ship lifted a few feet off the parking bay. After thirty seconds, it moved upward through a shaft inside the mountain toward the bay doors near its peak. The bay doors opened and the craft hovered just under the opening.

Salat’s voice came over the speaker system. “I understand that none of you have flown in a craft of this type so here’s what to expect. At this moment, we are awaiting to get clearance that the sky is free of any aircraft flying overhead. If you look up through the window above you, it appears as though the portal we are in leads to a dead end. But in actuality, what you see is a holographic image that matches the outside of the mountaintop. They did this for obvious reasons; it keeps our base hidden from the world.

“This spacecraft will reach Earth’s escape velocity at 25,000 miles per hour in six to eight seconds. The inertia dampeners automatically energize so you won’t get crushed by the G-force. Once there, particle drive propels us through space at thirty-six thousand miles per hour. Once we arrive, it’ll take another ten minutes to go down the Antica City Artery and park on the tarmac. Have a pleasant flight.”

Before they knew it, they were passing through the hundred twenty-five foot diameter passageway two thousand one hundred feet below the surface of Antarctica. There were two arteries, one for ingress, and the other for egress. By the time they left the throat of the artery, Traffic Control cleared the ship for city airspace.

Antica City, a modern metropolis was a massive subterrane stone-hollow twelve miles wide by fifteen miles long located beneath the ice of Antarctica. Its majestic cityscape filled the center of the hollow with innumerable multicolored lights adorning the architecture in and around the habitable structures. Decorative flashing signs attracted consumers for growing commerce at the business establishments.

Their ship slowed to a crawl approaching the secured fenced-in parking deck for shuttlecraft and small interstellar ships. The only way into the city limits is through the Customs processing area. Salat lowered the landing struts and set the ship down in the designated spot instructed by Air Traffic Control.

After de-energizing the ship’s systems, Salat made his way to his passengers. “My accommodations are just on the other side of the Customs fence. I will be on standby in case you need me. If there is an emergency, I’ll meet you here. Carry your passports with you at all times. Please follow me.”

Salat led them to the gates where an official raised his hand to greet Salat, saying something in an unrecognizable ET language. The officer’s features appeared humanoid in stature, his face and neck turtle-like, his skin colored with a tinge of green, dressed in a Customs blue uniform.

Salat shouted back over the loud ratcheting sounds from the machines in the materials receiving and inspection areas behind them. The exchange between them seemed affable. Salat pointed at his passengers and then held up three digits.

The Customs officer pushed a button on his uniform shirt pocket. A strong male voice blared through a mechanized translator. “Step forward please.”

Logan faced the officer first.

“Passport please,” he said.

He handed him his passport.

“Why are you visiting Antica City and how long do you intend to stay?”

Logan flashed his badge. “My associates and I are ISF agents. We are here on official business. Our stay is undetermined.”

“Very well, move along, please.” The officer performed the same procedure on Sims and then Narayanan.

When they walked away, an English speaking voice shouted from behind, “Narrie!”

He turned to see an old friend and shouted back, “Jake Stetson.” They hurried toward each other and shook hands. “Follow me through the gate where we can talk,” Narrie said.

After walking to the opposite side of the barrier, Jake asked, “What brings you to the A-hole of the world, good buddy?”

“Me passing through it,” he chuckled. “Let me introduce you to a couple of colleagues of mine. The exquisite Sims and this is Logan Pyke.”

“Nice to meet you.” He turned back to Narayanan. “Let’s get together for a beer before you leave here.”

“Sure.”

Jake handed him a business card. “I’ve got to get back. Call me first chance, good buddy.” He waved, turned, and made his way back toward the gate.

“Seems like a nice enough fellah,” Logan said.

“Yeah, we were in the U.S. Marine Corps together. Good man.”

Sims gazed at the processing area. “Seems to me this would be a good place to ask questions about our fugitive.”

“Not tonight,” Logan said. “Let’s take a little time to mull around a bit first. Get the lay of the land.”

They walked toward Alpha Tower, the first of four octagonal towers that served a double purpose. The architects incorporated the buildings themselves to be support columns twelve hundred feet between ground level and the ceiling of the hollow. The inside of each massive column tower was usable space to house the hotel lobby, stores, shops, banks, repair centers, training centers, and recreational areas at street level.

Eight motor driven rail elevator cars mounted outside each tower rode from ground level to the very top level of the building. Hotel accommodations took up two hundred feet above the streets. At every two hundred foot intervals, platform extrusions allowed aero-cars to gain access to parking lots. Between two and six hundred feet contained office space leased to businesses. Between six hundred to a thousand feet serviced permanent living areas.

Many of the ground-vehicles were driverless taxis. The airbuses began at Alpha Tower, making passenger drop-off and pickup rounds at each of the four towers between all twenty platforms. The drivers started at ground level before repeating the bus route again.

Ten

Logan, Sims, and Narayanan made their way through the main lobby doors of the Alpha Tower’s Taj Mahal Hotel and checked in at the register counter. They each signed out universal translators to communicate with the vast diversity of life forms there.

Logan looked at them, saying, “It’s only 9pm, are you guys up for checking out the nightlife?”

“Sounds like fun,” Sims said.

“Let’s do it,” Narrie added.

They had just exited through the double glass doors when an ET approached them. It was humanoid, four feet in height, long dark brown fur covering its body head to toe with black highlights throughout. A puppy-dog face with a nearly flat nose bridge, engaging deep jade green eyes and a friendly smile greeted them in a strange alien tongue. It pointed to Logan’s voice translator as it spoke in uneven vocal patterns. After a few seconds pause, they realized what the furry little ET was trying to communicate. The ET’s eyes smiled as Logan turned on his translator.

“Can you understand me now?” the ET said.

“Yes I can,” Logan said with a smile.

“I am Tihbit from the planet Ceblis, one hundred and fourteen light years from Earth, and who might you be?” Their devices translated Tihbit’s voice in the masculine pitch, sounding authoritative, flowing from each apparatus with a natural expressive dialect.

“My name is Logan. Allow me to introduce Sims and Narayanan.”

“Oh, I see you speak English. I too speak the language,” Tihbit said, turning off his translator. “I’ve been learning it for six months time.” His natural voice projected with volume, depth, and normal human sounding pitch. Tihbit looked on with keen interest and curiosity during each introduction. “You are among the human species of which I have met several here from other planets. Because I recognize your particular English dialect, I assume you are from Earth?”

“Narayanan and Sims are, but I’m from Pleiades.” Logan wasn’t ready to reveal Sims’ planet of origin because it may expose her shape-shifting capabilities.

“You speak it well. Now, how may we be of assistance?” Logan asked.

“Well, it’s not that you can help me, but it’s that I can be of service to you, sir,” he said with a true salesman’s conviction. “For just one gold token per day, I will be at your beck-and-call to answer any questions you have on Antica City. I have knowledge about where to go to enjoy yourselves, where not to go to stay out of danger, and who to talk to if you are seeking information. I can negotiate between vendors in the Marketplace on your behalf. And if you buy something from them, they give me a small kick-back, so you see we both benefit.”

“Tell you what; we’re going to take you up on your offer for this evening for one silver token — kind of like a trial run. Show us what you’ve got and we’ll discuss whether we can use your services after that,” Logan said.

Tihbit’s smile turned wide as a crescent moon. “Thank you very much. Follow me and I’ll hit the highlights. You are standing in the Four Towers area of the city, a bastion of galactic commerce. Deals are made here every day to enrich the lives of those that take big risks in investments, especially in precious metals. The Four Towers is a tariff free zone. Most of the buyers here have high credentials so the Antica Commerce Committee allows them to buy gold and silver in quantities of fifty percent above treaty law. They can own fifteen percent as opposed to ten percent normally.

“The Antica City Artery, and by the way, I can say Antarctica,” he said with a proud smile, “is considered north of the city. It’s not magnetic north of course because a compass will try to point straight up to the North Pole rather than along the surface of the planet.

“If you look to the top of the Alpha Tower, you’ll notice it is blue. That means it’s facing artificial north. The right side is red or east, left side green is west and the opposite side of the tower is yellow or south. Now, if you go south, you’ll discover the Marketplace. The beings that live and work there may be referred to as middleclass. They are artisans, farmers, carpenters, mechanics, lesser engineers and so on. They produce the food, crafts and build things for everyday needs and uses. You will find the farms and orchards south of Marketplace.”

“What if someone wants a thick, juicy steak?” Narrie asked.

“They ship beef and chicken in from different countries through a special distributor. Beef is very expensive here.” Tihbit turned to his right and pointed. “To the east is Renules, the high tech district where the most talented scientists and engineers live and work. Aside from weaponry, they share non-military technology between races so that their own worlds can benefit a better life.

“And to the west is Strinity Station, the entertainment district. Certain nightclubs you must stay away from like the Andromeda Experience and Betelgeuse.”

“What’s so terrible about those clubs,” Sims asked.

“It’s a gathering for outlaw scum and thugs, most wanted on other systems throughout the galaxy for murder, smuggling illegal weapons and robbery. I’ve had several acquaintances beaten within an inch of their lives just for the way they looked. They prey on the weak whose only wish is to go out to have a good time.”

Narrie glanced at Logan, shaking his finger in thought. “You know what; I haven’t been to a zoo in a long time. I’d like to see some of the critters there.”

“Hmm, me too. That sounds like that might be a hoot,” Logan said.

Tihbit looked up at Logan with a puzzled expression. “What, are you nuts? Didn’t you hear what I just said? Those places are dangerous and some of them hate humans.”

“The Betelgeuse sounds kind of interesting. Whaddaya say, Sims?” Narrie asked.

Sims’ right eyebrow rose and nodded.

“Okay, Little Bit, show us the way,” Narrie said with a smile.

“My name is Tihbit, and I won’t be responsible for your health or welfare. It’s your funeral,” he said, shaking his finger at them. Tihbit turned to hail a taxi. The driverless cab pulled next to the curb and Tihbit climbed in the front while the other three got in the back.

“Strinity Station,” Tihbit said to the cab control console.

“Which establishment?” the computer-generated voice asked.

“Betelgeuse Night Club.”

“Please insert two silver tokens in the slot and buckle up for safety. Thank you for choosing the Yellow Bucket Cab Company.”

Logan reached over the seat handing Tihbit the tokens for cab-fare.

After fifteen minutes of sitting in heavy traffic, they arrived at Strinity Station. Antica City architects designed the entertainment district in a circle a half mile in circumference. Around the inner sections next to the street sat gambling establishments, water resorts, theaters, gift shops, nightclubs and specialty goods and services. These catered to the needs for the variety of extraterrestrials that pass through Antica looking to have a good time.

Behind the inner circle of businesses were row houses rented to those that worked in the area or to those that needed an inexpensive place to stay overnight. On the outside of the circle were small hotels, stores that sold liquor, recreational drugs, groceries, gift items and dining. Four entrances to Strinity Station allowed access to the nightlife. Their taxi entered through the East Gate, turned left on Pleasure Circle and stopped in front of Betelgeuse.

Colorful flashing lights beckoned partygoers with illuminated signage on both sides of the road, a sight that would give Las Vegas a run for its business. The sidewalks and roads come alive at night with a wide diversity of beings in the forms of humanoids, insectoids and reptilians.

They climbed out of the cab and gazed around in awe just as two human females approached Narayanan, smiled at him, and said, “Are you looking for a good time, honey?” The girls were scantily clad in tight short skirts, their blouses missing several buttons at the top exposing well-endowed breasts.

“Well now, that could be interesting. What do you gals have in mind?” Narrie said.

They looked him up and down, giggling through smiling teeth.

Narrie felt his arm getting tugged. He glanced at Tihbit with eyes wide shaking his head.

Narrie looked back at the ladies and smiled. “Not tonight, girls. Maybe some other time.”

As they headed toward the Betelgeuse club, Sims walked ahead of Narayanan, turned her head and rolled her eyes. “I’m surprised you didn’t hump them right there on the spot.”

“Don’t forget, sweetheart, I’ve been in the slammer for a while. It’s like throwing a piece of meat at a hungry lion and telling it not to touch it.”

“It’s called control.”

“I’m a man . . . there’s no such thing as control when it comes to sexy women,” he said with a smile, looking her up and down.

She rolled her eyes. “Humph.”

Logan grinned at him, shaking his head as he held the door open for Sims.

She stopped and glared at Logan. “Do you have something to add?”

“No — no, I just enjoy seeing you get all worked up.”

“You two really stick together, don’t you?”

“Like birds of a feather, honey,” Logan said under his breath.

Sims threw Logan a stabbing glare. “Are you showering me with another one of your glitzy human sayings?”

“Nope, I would never do that to you, Sims.”

“I’ll wait for you out here,” Tihbit said, “I wouldn’t last two minutes in there.”

After entering, the first thing that impressed Narrie was how the atmosphere reminded him of a saloon scene in a 1940s western movie. Weathered looking tables and chairs lined the walls with a wooden plank dance floor in center-room and a bandstand that sat at the opposite end of the bar.

Music overpowered Logan’s ears, loud and harsh, sounding more on the order of devil worship as the vocalist screamed above crunching, pounding hard rock guitar riffs. It was difficult to even think in there, and whatever kind of spice they were smoking clung to the inside of his nostrils. He pointed to a table in the corner at the farthest end of the club. There needed to be distance between them and the excruciating noise coming from a band that looked like a bunch of reptilian rebels.

An attractive Nordic looking human female with large eyes and a small mouth approached their table, her blonde hair flowing over her shoulders. She spoke English, “Put your ear buds in and hook it to your translators,” she yelled.

After doing so, she spoke again and the translator device automatically compressed the background noise in their ears to a low roar. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Do you have Kentucky bourbon and coke?” Narrie asked.

“Oh yes, the finest aged bourbon money can buy.”

“I’ll take one.”

“And you?”

“A beer, ice cold,” Logan said, looking at Sims, waiting for a reaction. He smiled at her. “It reminds me of —

“Yeah, I know, hepple back home.”

“And you?” the waitress said, looking at Sims.

“Nothing for me.”

Logan gave her a stern sidelong glance.

“Uh, on second thought, I’ll have a beer.”

“I’ll be right back with your order,” she said with a smile.

“I forgot... act like a human,” Sims said.

“Right,” Logan said.

Narayanan gazed around at the interior design of the club. “This place looks like it was made for reptilians. They hate anything flashy or new looking.”

“Yeah, and a lot less expensive to replace the furniture when a brawl breaks out,” Logan said.

When the waitress returned with their drinks, Logan tipped her with a silver quarter-token.

It thrilled her to get such a handsome tip. “Oh, thank you, sir.”

Logan set a full gold token on the table. “That’s yours if you can give us some information.”

The girl’s eyes lit up with excitement and gasped. “That’s more than I earn in a week. What information do you need? Will I get into trouble?”

“That group of Dracs over there. We’re looking for a particular Draconian individual. Who in that group do you think could give us the information we need?”

“Oh, that’s easy, Guinto. He knows everyone.”

Logan placed the token in her hand. “Get him for me.”

“This ought to get interesting,” Narrie said.

Logan took a drink and watched the young lady approach the Drac. She pointed in their direction. Guinto came toward them in a slow lumbering gait. He was taller and heavier than the average reptilian and angrier looking. His leathery greenish brown skin had black markings over his arms and legs.

“What do you want with me, human?” he barked through the translator.

“Pull up a chair, slick and take a load off,” Narrie said.

“I do not socialize with humans; you are cannon fodder to the reptoid race. I ask again, what is your business with me?”

Logan took a gulp of beer and said, “We’re looking for a certain Draconian.”

“And who might that be.”

“Vullen.”

“General Vullen, the KBS Agent?” He laughed. “You are joking. What fool would give out that type of information to police hacks?”

Logan set a roll of twenty gold tokens on the table.

Guinto glanced around to see if anyone was watching and sat.

“Another roll of twenty if you lead us to him and we take him into custody,” Logan said.

Guinto rubbed his narrow chin from anticipation. “Give me a half a roll and I’ll tell you who will know for certain.”

“Can we trust you?” Narrie asked.

“I am Guinto. Everyone knows me, and they know I hold honor above everything. Take it or leave it.”

Logan took out ten tokens from the roll and set them aside. He covered the pile of coins with the cup of his hand, pushed it toward Guinto.

The Drac reached for it but Narayanan slammed his hand down over the pile, staring into his eyes. “Before we release the gold, we need to confer with our advisor.”

Guinto stood, giving him an exasperated glare. “Don’t toy with me, human. Guinto’s word is his bond.”

“This isn’t personal, it’s business. Now have a seat and relax before you have an aneurism.” Narayanan glanced at Logan recognizing his action noticeably infuriated him.

The reptilian cooled and leaned against the backrest of the seat, staring at Narayanan. “Very well, but do not make me angry. I get mean when I am angry. The one you need to speak to is Atryn Mahtess. She is the executive controller for Reptilian Affairs in Beta Tower, ground level, office fourteen. Any reptilian visiting Antica must register for additional identification to amend their passport.”

“And why is that?” asked Sims.

Guinto stared at her in contempt. “I see you haven’t been here very long. This city considers the reptoid species aggressive by nature and some reptilians cannot control their assertiveness. So those like myself who are docile and easy-going gets unjustly labeled a troublemaker. It is racist bias toward my species, typical human arrogance.”

“It’s not arrogant to want the law-abiding inhabitants of Antica and Earth to be safe from thugs and terrorists,” Logan said.

Guinto’s hand shot across the table quicker than the eye could follow, grabbing a fistful of Logan’s shirt. “Are you calling me a terrorist?” he growled.

Narayanan grasped Guinto’s wrist. “Hold on there, slick. You don’t want to cause a galactic incident, do you? You just manhandled the special envoy to Antica sent here by the President of the United States. The president will be angry when he finds out that you have disrespected his representative.”

Logan frowned, glancing at Narayanan, curious about where that came from.

Guinto’s eyes cooled, his fist loosened and released him. “I do not wish to anger the president.” He looked at Narayanan in puzzlement. “What is envoy?”

“A messenger, uh, a representative. Now what do you say we all just calm down a bit and get back to business. You mentioned an Atryn Mahtess,” Narrie said.

“Yes, several years ago, Vullen murdered her brother because he persuaded the Solarian Alien Admissions Committee to vote against allowing a Draconis base on their home world. If Vullen is here, she may have the information you want.”

Narayanan leaned over, whispering in Sims’ ear. “Go ask Little Bit if he can confirm it.”

Sims nodded and left. A few minutes later, she returned, leaned over and whispered to Narayanan, “It checks out.”

Narrie grinned at the Drac and took his hand off the gold. “Now, that wasn’t so painful, was it? Go have some fun, gamble it away before you get deported for roughing up the president’s envoy.”

Guinto growled and stood, glaring down at Narayanan. “You will not repeat this to anyone? My good fortune will be pointless if I am dead.”

“That would not be wise of us because it might warn the one we seek.”

After a pause, Quinto turned and left, heading back to his friends on the other side of the club.

“Envoy — where did you come up with that load of crap?” Logan said.”

“You said it yourself, Chief, I know these Dracs better than anyone. I challenged him. That was a show of strength. They detest weakness, especially in humans. I’ll lay odds one of his friends will come over and demand gold for himself.”

They sipped their drinks watching the group carrying on over Guinto’s newfound treasure. Just as Narayanan predicted, one of the Dracs splintered from the group and headed their way.

Logan decided it best to let Narrie handle this situation. This Drac appeared older and thinner with noticeable scars on his neck and chest. He stopped at the table looking down at them in silence.

After a few moments, Narayanan spoke. “Is there something we can do for you?”

“I want gold. I have information too.”

“What do you have to offer?”

“Anything Quinto knows, I know more because I have been around much longer that he has.”

Narayanan stood to face him, his eyes squinting in disbelief. “Why that’s the stupidest thing I ever heard, especially coming from a slimy, cold blooded, scaly headed Drac like you.”

“Slimy!” Logan and Sims stood as the Drac unsheathed a dagger. “I want gold now, or I’ll open your insides.”

“Are all Dracs as stupid as you? I won’t hand over any gold unless what you know is valuable to me.”

“Orr-ooof, you are calling me stupid!” The Drac growled and raised the dagger to drive it through him. As he thrust the blade, Sims leapt between them, catching the full impact of the dagger sinking into her back. She let out a painful scream, blood drooling from the wound causing the band to stop playing. Silence swept over the bar as the clientele looked on with curiosity.

“Sims! Logan, get her out of here,” Narayanan yelled, and slammed the reptilian with a side-kick to its head, forcing him over some patrons sitting at a nearby booth. He rolled off the table and stood erect, anger blazing from his eyes.

Narrie aimed his M6 weapon at the group of Dracs heading his way. They halted. He reached into his pocket, pulled out two gold tokens and placed it on the closest table. “This’ll cover any damage with enough to buy drinks the rest of the night. Now, I’m going to leave real easy like so we can take our friend to the hospital.” He backed out through the front door where he heard Tihbit hailing a taxi.

A circle of passersby stopped to see what was happening. Logan was kneeling next to Sims leaning against the wall of the club and pulled his shirt off to compress the wound. He picked her up in his arms and slipped into the back seat of the cab, followed by Narayanan.

Tihbit jumped in the front seat and pushed a red button on the cab controller. “This is an emergency, go to the hospital,” he exclaimed in an urgent tone to the driverless car. The cab flashed its yellow light on top of the cabin and picked up speed. He turned to look at her. “My word, oh my word, she looks so pale; I told you not to go in there. What good is it for me to be your confidant if you don’t listen?”

Narayanan laughed and that started Logan to belly laugh.

“Did you see the expression on that Drac’s face? He didn’t know whether to run or pray to his god for forgiveness,” Logan said.

Tihbit’s eyes grew woeful and wide in disbelief, exclaiming, “What’s the matter with you? How can you be laughing when the poor girl is near death?” His mouth dropped when he saw her smiling and then opened her eyes. “What — what’s going on here?”

Sims sat up, the color returning to her face, the wound and the cut in her clothing disappearing in front of his eyes. “I’m all right, Tihbit.”

Tihbit slapped himself on his furry forehead, covered his sad puppy eyes, and slumping against the front backrest.

“We’re sorry, Tihbit, but this act was necessary until we got far enough away from the club,” Sims said in an apologetic tone. “Do you forgive us?”

Tihbit’s meek little voice traveled over the backrest. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

“We had to pull off that deception to let the reptilian believe he wounded Sims. He may report the incident to the Drac we want to question. I attached a small tracking device on his clothing; we’ll keep him under surveillance for a while,” Logan said.

“I need a little time to work through this.”

They heard muffled growls and chirps coming from the front seat. Then there was silence. After a few moments of sulking, he spoke to the computer, “Cancel the trip to the hospital.” He stood, pointing his furry little finger at Logan. “Never do that to me again.”

Logan smiled and raised his hand. “I promise — the truth of the matter is Sims is from Exscenchia.”

Tihbit gazed at her, his mood doing a complete turn-around, grinning from exhilaration. “You’re a molecular shape shifter. I’ve heard of your kind, but no one has ever seen one. I’m honored, my lady.” He studied her with keen fascination. “And an exquisite human form you have chosen.”

“Why thank you, Tihbit. That was very nice,” she said, glancing at Logan with her nose elevated a few degrees.

“We want to keep a low profile about her race for obvious reasons,” Logan said.

“But of course, I will honor your request.”

“Good man.”

“Where to now?” Tihbit asked.

“Go to the hotel. Meet us in the lobby at 9AM tomorrow.”

Tihbit smiled, turned and pushed the red button on the dash. “Alpha Tower.”

“Please insert two silver tokens in the slot and buckle up for safety. Thank you for choosing the Yellow Bucket Cab Company.”

Eleven

At five in the afternoon, Jack was in his third day of walking one lap around the block. To pace himself about one mile, he needed to do three laps. His endurance ebbed and flowed, having good days and slow ones. Today was Saturday, and each time he came close to the house, Debbie rode her bike beside him on the sidewalk. The front wheel wobbled next to his sluggish stride though she managed to keep it upright.

“Why are you walking so much, Jack?”

“To get my strength back. If I lie around every day my muscles will atrophy and then I’d be bedridden.”

“What does attrowpee mean?”

Sweat beaded on his forehead as he stopped and bent over placing both hands on his knees to catch his breath. “It means I would get so weak, I wouldn’t be able to stand on my own two feet.”

“Oh, just like grandma. She can’t get around without a walker. Do you think I’ll be that way when I get old?”

“It’s a good possibility if you don’t take care of yourself and exercise. When people get older, sometimes they get sick or get arthritis and have a lot of pain so they can’t help it.”

“When I get old, I hope I never get arthur-ite-tis. I hate pain. One day I was running fast and I fell on my knees real hard, and it hurt so bad I cried. Do you cry?”

“Everybody cries — depends on what kind of pain and how much it hurts.”

“What other kind of pain is there?”

“Emotional pain... didn’t you and your mom cry when your daddy didn’t come home?”

“Oh yes, soooo much. I cried more because I could hear Mommy crying in the bathroom. I prayed to God that he would help her stop cryin’, but I don’t think he heard me.”

“Oh I’m sure he heard you, but he feels each person has to work through times like this on their own. It takes quite awhile to heal and praying helps ease the pain a little.” How or why he came up with that explanation mystified him. He wasn’t a religious man with devout disciplines so maybe he read it somewhere and it just seeped out. He shook his head, puzzled how sometimes things escape that blank hole in his brain. “The corner is up ahead so you need to go back to the house.”

“Okay, Mom told me I have to get ready for supper and we’ll bring yours down in a little while.”

Jack turned his head, smiled and huffed from being out of breath. “Thanks.” After rounding the third corner, the fence was just ahead. He slowed to a sluggish pace stretching his legs until he reached the gate. He walked to the little stone courtyard where he left a bottled-water next to the recliner. The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky just atop the trees like a big red ball over the Pacific, and he moved the recliner to face it. Jack laid back to absorb the scenery. It was peaceful and beautiful there and without realizing it, he dozed off.

Megan just happened to look out the kitchen window noticing him tossing and turning. She grabbed his dinner, hurried out the front door, through the side gate to where he lay on the recliner and shook him. “Jack — Jack, wake up, Jack, you’re having a bad dream.” She set his plate on the table next to the recliner.

Jack’s eyes flashed open and sat up, unable to breathe, gazing around the yard.

Megan sat beside him, speaking in a soft tone, “It’s okay it’s Megan, I’m right here.”

Reality came into focus and a breeze carried the slight scent of Megan’s sweet perfume. He felt an uncontrollable need to embrace her, something to make him realize that what he sensed was real. Megan’s body pressed into his, soft and comforting, but it surprised him when she embraced him back. He pushed away and chuckled. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to invade your space.”

“That’s okay, would you like to talk?”

“Oh it’s nothing, I get these strange images in my head about the accident, but I’m fine now, thanks.” He had to play along with the story otherwise if Logan’s little green men were to appear in his conversation, he might be out on his heels. He was still mired down with everything going on, confused and unenlightened. “I’ll have some water if it’s handy.”

“Sure, here,” she said, handing him a cooled glass. “I brought your supper out.”

“Oh, thanks.” Jack took a couple of gulps and released his breath. He smiled. “I must’ve overdone it today. When my strength comes back, I’m going to owe you big time. I’ll be taking you out to dinner every night for a year.” He paused. “Well,” he laughed, “I suppose that sounded somewhat presumptuous, but it’s important to let you know how much I appreciate all that you and Debbie have done for me.”

Jack gazed out over the bay, contemplating his situation. “We usually buy into the myth that the world is okay and all the things we take for granted will be waiting for us when the sun rises. Then something happens that turns our life inside out. What makes it worse for me is I can’t remember how it happened. Thank God for friends.”

“I can relate to that . . . it’s almost an understatement especially considering the recent loss of my husband. I would’ve never imagined living my darkest hour crying my insides out.” She paused in thought. “Jack, please don’t take this the wrong way, but —

His expression sagged a bit. Uh-oh, here it comes, I guess I’ve overstayed my welcome.

Debbie and I, we...

“Go ahead. It’s okay, say it out.”

Megan clasped her hands together, stared at them for a few seconds and looked up at him. “It’s been so hard on both of us losing David, and this house hasn’t been like a home until you came. I suppose taking care of you has taken our minds off the sadness. It’s been lingering in the air everywhere, and I can’t look at anything or touch anything without the memory of him. Dave was such a good man and Debbie worshipped the ground he walked on. I’d often thought about selling and moving, but I don’t want to uproot Deb, especially in the middle of a school year.”

“And you shouldn’t. Give it time, Megan.” Jack rubbed her shoulder and smiled. “You’re lucky to have a sweet little girl who loves you more than life itself. Debbie’s more worried how you’re handling this than she. It’s good you have each other to lean on in these turbulent times.”

“Here comes my little cookie munchkin now,” Megan said with a smile just as Debbie trotted through the gate.

Debbie stopped in front of him, putting her hands on her hips, cocked her head and gave him a concerning gaze. “Why aren’t you eating your supper? I don’t want your muscles to attropee, so eat.”

“Guess what, I’m so hungry I could eat a horse. Got one around here anywhere?” he groaned, glancing around the yard

“Eat a horse? Ewe.” She giggled. “You’re crazy, Jack.”

Logan and Narayanan arrived at Beta Tower in Antica City and stopped at door 14 on the ground level.

“Is this a good cop, bad cop scenario?” Narrie asked.

“Yeah, I think this situation calls for it. You be the bad cop.”

“Hold your horses there, hoss, I played the bad cop last time, remember? It was with that Langor ET, the one that tried to transport those captured humans for slave labor to the planet Isalton. Besides, you’re more hot tempered than I am.”

“The hell I am, at least I don’t go around punching someone before I know what I’m punching them for.”

“You just won’t let me live that one down, will you? The guy was a slime-ball and his tongue needed loosening just a little, that’s all.”

“Okay, okay, you can be the good cop,” Logan said, expressing a hint of exasperation.

An imperceptible smile etched Narrie’s face knowing his rile was successful. “All right, if that’s the way you want it — makes no difference to me.”

Logan shook his head in annoyance and followed him through the door. There were six personnel appearing to be performing different tasks, four humans, one reptilian and one synthetic. Narayanan approached the front desk greeted by the synthetic. She had a thin frame, narrow facial features wearing a modest amount of make-up with no visible hair on her head.

“May I help you?” she said in a smooth monotone voice.

“Does an Atryn Mahtess work here?” Narrie asked.

“Yes, may I say who is asking?”

“Seetharaman Narayanan — we would like to speak with her, please.”

The synthetic stared at him with deep blue eyes as though she was processing the request. After several seconds, she turned and walked to the other side of the room and spoke with someone appearing to be using a copier. The human woman glanced at Narayanan, turned back to the synthetic and nodded.

When she completed her task, she gathered her documents, turned and headed their way. She wore a lengthy blue skirt that reached to her ankles with a white and blue blouse. There were streaks of red that subtly blended in with her long, straight, light brown hair, her skin fair with dark green eyes. “I’m sorry, but we don’t take walk-ins. You must make an appointment with the receptionist if you want to file a partition for legal entry,” she said.

“Ms. Mahtess?” Narrie asked in a calm tone.

“Yes.”

They flashed their badges. “ISF agents, ma’am. I’m Agent Narayanan and this is my associate, Agent Pyke. May we have a few minutes of your time?”

She sighed. “What’s this about?”

“Is there somewhere we can talk?” Logan asked.

“Yes, come with me.” Mahtess led them around some desks, down a hallway to a side office, and closed the door behind them. She sat behind her desk and pointed at a couple of chairs in front of her. “Please.”

“Thank you,” Narrie said.

“What planet are you from?” Logan asked with an abrupt tone.

“Solaria — now, how may I be of service?”

Narrie opened a tablet to scribble his notes. “We’re looking for a LeCertis Vullen, and I understand you know where to find him.”

Mahtess’ eyes grew dark, her expression twitched at the mere sound of that name. She stood and paced next to the desk a few times before turning back to face them. “Why do you want him?”

“We want to bring him in for questioning,” Narrie said.

“I don’t know where he is,” she growled. “Vullen can keel over and die for all I care.”

“We were told that all reptilian visitors must acquire certification on their passport from this office,” Narrie said.

“I haven’t seen him which doesn’t mean he’s not in Antica. If he is here, he never came to this office.”

“Maybe we can have your memory refreshed down at the Antica Legal Tribunal,” Logan said in a forceful tone.

“I would never give out that kind of information anyway. It’s unethical and word gets around, you know. Besides, he’ll come after me and I have a child to be concerned with.” Mahtess turned to put some ledgers on the shelf. “I can’t help you.”

“If you don’t cooperate, we can get your Visa revoked just like that,” Logan said with the snap of his finger. “And then you’ll be on the next freighter out of here. You are Solarian and I understand that to be dismissed from a job and deported from a planet is disgraceful. No one will hire you again.”

“Maybe we can help you,” Narrie said.

“How?”

“I understand Vullen murdered your brother. He recently murdered an Earth human too. Our intelligence feels certain that he is here on this planet for nefarious reasons. That act could very well affect Antica City in one sinister way or another.”

“No, my baby is here!” Her temperament changed from contention to concern.

“Vullen is an evil hombre. We need to stop him. I have a murder warrant, so we have the authority to arrest him,” Logan said. “If we get him into custody, we might be able to prevent whatever it is he plans to do.”

“Unlikely,” she said. “He’s a KBS Agent. Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with? General Vullen is a Setti of the Black Suns, which is the closest thing to an omnipotent being I’ve ever heard about. You can’t break him and no matter what you do to him he will surrender no information.”

“Let us worry about that,” Logan said.

Narrie set a roll of gold tokens on the desk. “I understand there are places in Antica where you can get lost... where no one can find you. Give us solid, actionable information and this is yours to take your child someplace safe until all this blows over.”

“Call it a vacation,” Logan said. “We will never utter a word that we talked with you. And by the time you come back, he will have left Antica. He never stays in one place too long. That’s why he’s so hard to catch.”

“I’m more concerned over the mercenaries he hires. I may never find peace as long as I live.” Mahtess turned her back thinking of the safety for her child and the malicious reputation of Vullen. She faced them and reached to pick up the tokens. “Tomorrow night on the second floor above the Klik Nightclub in the Strinity Station District, Vullen plans to meet with another KBS agent named Rajuc. That’s all I know.”

“How did you come by this information?” Logan asked.

“The owner is a close friend of the family. I overheard him talking about it on his cell phone last week.”

“Is there a back way out of here?” Logan asked.

“Yes, follow me.” Mahtess escorted them through a double door into a hallway that led to the parking area in the back. “I hope I don’t have trouble over this.”

Narrie forced a smile to give her some modicum of assurance. “Go take that vacation, you’ll be all right,” he said and waved goodbye.

Twelve

The next evening, an elderly, heavyset Draconian entered the hazy, dimly lit Klik Nightclub. At seven foot, his leathery grayish-brown skin and stout torso lent the air of an aging elephant seal. He wore a mechanical voice box strapped to his throat, an injury received during a battle between Draconia and Krominos Minor ten years prior. Black light effects washed over the walls and a single musician played a stringed instrument resembling a triangular guitar. Each note he performed whistled through the air in ghostly full-bodied sonic tones. The Drac ambled toward the bartender.

“What’ll you have, stranger?” the barkeep asked.

“I am Colonel Daioos.” The synthetic voice box transmitted a growling tone, but it was comprehensible. “Ale for my parched throat,” he said, slamming a quarter silver token on the bar.

“Will you be staying in Antica for awhile, Colonel?”

“No, I’m here on business.” He took a couple of swigs from the glass and walked to the end of the bar motioning the bartender to follow him. Once away from prying ears of other patrons, he leaned toward him and turned down the volume control on the voice box. “I am to meet with General Vullen. It is imperative that I see him right now.”

“Sorry sir, I don’t know who you are talking about.”

Daioos grabbed him by his skinny neck and yanked him halfway over the bar. “Let this sink into that gelatinous gunk inside your head. I’m a special emissary sent by the Draconis Emperor to deliver an important message to Vullen. This is urgent and they told me to speak to you. If you are not the right you, then I’ll have to kill you since you know too much.” He released his neck and shoved him away.

“Uh, yes — yes sir, I am he, uh him,” he blithered in a nervous tone. “I received no information that you were coming, sir. Give me a minute.”

After Daioos took a few more drinks of ale, the bartender returned. “Go through that back door and up the stairs to room B.”

Daioos nodded, gulped the rest of his drink, some of it drooling down his bearded chin. He wiped the wetness with the sleeve of his forearm, waved the bartender off, made his way up stairs, and pounded on door ‘B.’

An unfamiliar Drac opened it.

“I am Colonel Daioos here to see General Vullen.”

The Drac opened the door wider to allow entrance.

Vullen had his back to the door gazing out the window and turned to greet his guest after hearing the door shut. “What brings you here, Colonel?”

He gave him an opened mouth, full-bellied laugh. “It is an honor to see you again, General. I always knew you would outrank me someday.”

“It’s only a title, Colonel.”

“And an honorable one. You and I both are no longer in military service but our former rank still gifts us with benefits, aye old friend. How’ve you been?”

They each placed their right hand on the right shoulder of the other in a classic Draconian greeting.

“I have been well. What do I owe the honor for your unexpected presence, Colonel Daioos.”

“I apologize for not notifying you of my arrival, but we thought that any communication would be risky. Colonel Lezzel told me where to find you. I bring an important message from Emperor Gortac.” He glanced over at the Drac that answered the door. “This must be Rajuc,” he said, walking to him. “I heard you did quite well in the Karpek Daèju ceremony.” His hands splayed in front of him, palms up. “Now that you have earned a knighthood in the Black Suns, welcome to the elite of the elite.”

“Thank you Colonel Daioos, my Setti has spoken highly of you.”

Daioos turned to a cushioned chair. “Ah, this tired old body is summoning me to sit. Do you mind?”

“Make yourself comfortable, Colonel,” Vullen said, his raspy voice filtering through the screen of the Draconian mask.

“I see you still wear that contraption around your head. Why do you still do that?”

“For the same reason you wear that voice box around your neck, Colonel.”

Daioos gave another one of his full-throated laughs. “I can’t argue that point. I suppose these mechanisms have become a part of us.”

Vullen glanced at Rajuc. “Long ago when I was a youngster, the Colonel saved my life several times during the war with the Tessels. They had mountains of raw gold just ripe for the picking and we took it,” he said, clinching his hand into a fist. “I think our young apprentice would like to hear the story from you, Colonel.”

“It would be an honor,” Rajuc said.

“First, allow me to deliver the message High Command sent me here to give you, General. Word got back to the Senate about the Toiyabe base cryogenics incident. Emperor Gortac is concerned that Dustin VanPelt has committed irreversible damage to the mission. He convinced your Master Eilou to send two squads of KBS agents in case you need a larger contingent for backup. They experienced a massive solar storm from Rigel’s star and the freighter accrued sustainable damage. They have delayed its arrival for two weeks to repair its computers.”

Vullen contemplated the situation and said, “There may not be time for any delays, Colonel. I am on a tight schedule trying to keep ahead of the ISF agents.”

“Yes, I have heard of the Pleiadian who calls himself Logan Pyke,” Daioos said. “He is very tenacious, my friend. We have all the confidence that you will do the right thing.”

“Colonel, why were you sent instead of Colonel Lezzel?” Vullen asked.

“Lezzel is escorting a shipment of gold to the KBS headquarters.”

Vullen’s eyes drew down to the colonel’s wrist. It appeared to be switching between greenish gray and blue. “Shape shifter,” he blurted, and shoved Rajuc out of the way. “It’s a trap!”

Colonel Daioos stood and dove for cover. While midair, his body disintegrated into a blurry grayish cloud and reformed behind a wall. “They’re onto me!” Sims shouted into a micro transmitter while drawing her M6 weapon.

“On our way,” Logan said.

“Don’t move, this is ISF and under Article 3B806 of Earth’s Interstellar Judicial Act of 1934, I’m placing both of you under arrest. Throw your weapons on the floor and come out with your hands behind your heads.”

Suddenly, a loud thump resonated from the door and it flew open. Logan and Narayanan knelt behind the hall wall looking in, aiming their neuralizers at empty space. “Where are they, Sims?” Logan shouted.

“Vullen is in the back room and Rajuc is behind the couch.”

Rajuc stood and fired his weapon, yelling, “Get out of here, my Setti!” He had his weapon set on its highest destructive setting, firing waves of concussion that blasted out walls around the door where Logan and Narrie knelt. Building materials fragmented into splintering shards as they hugged the floor, barely missed by the flying debris. “How did you manage to get that information on Daioos and Lezzel,” Rajuc shouted.

“It’s called intelligence, now give it up!” Sims had a clear shot and took it. Rajuc crumbled to the floor unconscious. The sound of glass breaking in the back room alarmed her.

“The window, I’m on it,” Sims yelled and disappeared.

As Logan ran through the outside hall toward the stairwell, he shouted to Narayanan, “I’m going to back-up Sims. Take Rajuc to the police station.” He spoke into the two-way radio while rushing down the steps and out the back door. “Sims, where are you?”

“On the roof, he’s on foot heading east toward the Towers. He just went down the fire escape and onto the parking lot.”

Logan huffed from running hard, talking into his two-way radio. “Taylor — Lopez, Vullen escaped to the east side parking lot. Sims, can you get in front of him?”

She relocated behind a vehicle in his path, but before she discharged her neuralizer, he ducked between vehicles for cover.

Just when Logan turned the corner of the building, he saw officers Taylor and Lopez on the ground. He pressed a smart key that connected him with the Antica PD dispatcher. “Officers down, officers down, south side of the Klik nightclub in Strinity Station near the east parking area.” He caught up to Sims standing on the edge of the lot gazing around for signs of Vullen.

“Where did he go?” Logan asked, looking at hundreds of aero-cars and land based vehicles parked in the lot. “It’ll be impossible to spot him.”

“The quickest way for him to escape is to commandeer an aero-car. The first one to rise will most likely be him.”

Before he could say anything, she translocated inside a locked vehicle and bypassed its security measures. Logan jumped in “You must’ve been reading my mind.”

“I’m incapable of reading minds.”

“It’s just a saying, Sims.”

She energized the anti-gravity mechanism, started the engine and rose just a few feet off the ground. They waited a few seconds and saw a vehicle rising several hundred yards away.

“Step on it,” he said.

They approached the aero-car where they could see Vullen sitting behind the controls. He nonchalantly glanced at them and hit the accelerator. Sims did the same and within seconds, she was on his tail.

“He’s heading for the Four Towers,” Logan exclaimed.

“Got it,” she groaned, swaying and steering to avoid crashing into several aero-cars that had crossed their path. Sims matched move per move through each maneuver he took, weaving between Alpha and Beta Towers, cornering Omega Tower, nearly crashing into several cars that were taking flight from a parking platform. He then headed toward a tall communication tower in the technical district.

“That crazy son of a bitch,” Logan hissed. “He’s going between the masts. There must be dozens of guy-wires holding up those antennas. Hit one the wrong way and we’ll get cut in half.”

“Trust me.”

“Easy for you to say.”

She growled.  “Do you want to drive this thing?”

“You’re doing fine — you’re doing fine.”

“Then keep quiet and let me concentrate!” She steered left, right, down, then up, barely missing one wire cable and scraping the next, tearing the sheet metal off the driver’s side door.

“Look out!” Logan shouted.

Sims banked hard left, then right, just missing a main metal mast and followed Vullen into the open cornfields on the outer edge of the market district. She studied his direction, glanced at her speedometer, made a few calculations, saying, “Vullen is heading to the commercial district, take the steering wheel and shoot his engine.” She disappeared.

“What the...” Logan grabbed the steering wheel to stabilize the car long enough to slide over and take control. He opened the window, aimed his M6 pulse beam weapon at Vullen’s engine and fired.

Sims translocated in the cabin seat next to Vullen. She gambled that he would keep a straight heading back to the city so her estimation to materialize in the cab was accurate. The instant she solidified, her hand pulled the neuralizer out of the holster. Before she could point it, Vullen knocked it to the floorboard and they fought for the steering wheel. Sims forced it left to prevent the craft from entering the busy populated area.

Suddenly, engine drive failed. Logan must’ve gotten off a good shot, she thought. The next to go was the anti-gravity flux drive as the car flew over a hundred knots, slowed to eighty and decreased by the moment. As the ground came up fast, Vullen maintained a gradual glide slope long enough to set it down into a soft crash landing. He was out of the car and snaking through the cornfields before Sims could grab her weapon.

She spoke into her radio. “He escaped. Do you see him?”

Logan circled above her, looking in all directions. “No sign. That slippery bastard probably made it to the tree line. I’m coming to pick you up and we’ll head over to the Antica PD to see what Rajuc has to say.”

Thirteen

Logan hovered the aero-car over a parking space behind the police department and set it down. Building engineers designed the police department with white brick British colonial architecture, accented with four twenty-foot pillars in front and rear entrances contrasted by black shutters around the windows. Sims followed him through a solid oak door that led them through a long hall to the front desk.

Logan flashed his badge at the officer, a dark-skinned Cetian sporting an ancient Roman style haircut. “Sarge, Agent Narayanan brought a KBS agent in for interrogation. Can you direct us, please?”

The sergeant studied the log. “Sure, he’s with Lieutenant Roberts in room 3-C, up the hall on your left.”

“Thanks — oh, here’s the license plate number to a vehicle we confiscated to chase a suspect. Can you see that it’s returned to the rightful owner?”

“Where’s the suspect?”

“We lost him,” Sims said.

“Where’s the car?”

“There are two; one is in the cornfield and the other is out back. They are in need of repair before they’re returned to the owners,” Logan said, glancing back at him as they headed to room 3C. When they walked through the door, Narayanan was standing next to the window talking to a plain-clothes investigator. Logan and Sims approached them.

“This is Lieutenant Roberts,” Narrie said, “Lieutenant, meet Sims and Logan Pyke.”

After exchanging pleasantries for a few seconds, Logan looked at Roberts and asked, “Any word on Taylor and Lopez?”

“They are at the hospital getting checked out.”

“That’s a relief,” Logan said, glancing at Sims.

Roberts looked at his notes. “Taylor said that Vullen was a good eight feet from them when he raised his hand to them, and they blacked out. How can that be?”

“Vullen is a KBS Setti with advanced abilities and skills,” Narrie said.

“Yeah, I’ve heard of KBS agents, but I never knew they could do that.”

“Regular KBS can’t, but Vullen can; he ranks somewhere between a lord and a wizard. We were lucky he was in a hurry and didn’t have time to kill them,” Logan said. He turned to Narayanan. “Find out anything?”

“Notta’, we’ve been at it going on a half hour and Rajuc has been tight-lipped about everything.”

“I can’t hold him much longer; there’s nothing to charge him with,” Roberts said.

“Discharging a lethal weapon that nearly took my head off won’t do it?” Logan said.

Roberts walked around his desk and sat on the edge. “Rajuc claims self defense and said you fired on him first.”

“And you believe that?” Sims said. “I identified myself and ordered them to surrender.”

Roberts walked around his desk, picked up some official looking papers, and stuffed them in the breast pocket of his jacket. “If you can prove probable cause for a crime and give me something I can sink my teeth into, I can hold him.”

“How about consorting with a known felon and murderer,” Logan said.

“Guilt by association wouldn’t hold up in court unless Rajuc aided and abetted in a known crime. The DA can’t prosecute a case just because someone is in the same room with a known felon, you should know that,” Roberts said.

Logan gazed at the floor in thought and nodded. “Yeah, I do... was just grasping at straws, Lieutenant.”

“Sorry, but I have no choice.”

Logan reached to shake Roberts’ hand. “Thanks, can we use your office for a few minutes?”

“Sure, take as much time you need.”

The lieutenant was halfway out the door when Logan called out, “Lieutenant, one minute. Can you at least put a bulletin out on Vullen, hold him for questioning, and call me.” He pulled out the arrest warrant and handed it to him.”

“Murdered someone in Colorado, huh.” He handed it back to Logan. “Look, we get all kinds of scum passing through Antica City but my hands are tied unless a law has been broken here.” Roberts threw his hands in the air and shook his head before Logan had a chance to reply. “I know — I know, Vullen has done reprehensible things, but Antica could just as well be on another planet when it comes to jurisprudence. I’m sorry, now please excuse me.” He left, closing the door behind him.

Logan looked at them. “Well, we’re right back to square one.”

Sims got up and paced. “It’s my fault, I had a difficult time holding the façade of Colonel Daioos and some of my molecules scrambled. After all that studying I did on Daioos and the videos to replicate his mannerisms, I sensed that Vullen wasn’t buying it — I got a little nervous.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Sims, Vullen is sharp, hardly anything gets past him,” Logan said and faced Narayanan. “I’ve got a job for you. It’s two fold. First, I’m concerned for the safety of Atryn Mahtess and her child. Vullen will find out who the informant is and send his mercs. I need you to get her to safety. Try to dig up some more information on Vullen, something she may’ve heard or overlooked as to why Vullen came to Earth. See if you can get a lead. I don’t care how small it is.” Logan thought for a second. “Who is that Marine friend of yours in Customs?”

“Jake Stetson,” Narrie said. “Why?”

“Everyone has to pass through there, maybe he’s heard something. Sims and I will check it out.”

“Okay.” Narrie glanced at his watch. “I’d better get to Ms. Mahtess before she leaves her job. Ask Little Bit where he recommends hiding her. I’ll call you on the secure channel later.”

“Narrie,” Sims said.

He turned to look at her just before reaching the door.

“Stay out of trouble.”

He grinned. “Yes, momma.”

Narayanan rented a Range Rover since Aerocars had a maximum ten-mile radius restriction from the Four Towers. He remembered Tihbit saying that the best place to get lost was to go as far away from downtown as you can. He walked into the office of Reptilian Affairs in Beta Tower, ground level, office 14 and the same synthetic strolled over to greet him.

“You have returned, Agent Narayanan. Do you wish to speak with Ms. Mahtess again?”

“Yes.”

After a few minutes, Mahtess hurried around a corner wall. “What is it now, Inspector, I’m very busy.”

“Get your things, I’m getting you out of here.”

“Why, what’s going on?”

“Vullen escaped capture and he’ll track us back to this place, so hurry.”

Mahtess glared at him and groused, “I thought you said —”

“It doesn’t matter what I said, just get your ass in gear.”

She hurried to her office to grab a few personals, came back into the front area, rushed around the counter and waved to the synthetic human. She walked to a man sitting behind a computer and spoke to him.”

Narrie’s impatience wore thin, growling, “Ms. Mahtess, hurry.”

“I’m ready.” She headed toward the door.

“Not the front, we’re going out the back way.” Narayanan grasped her arm and guided her toward the office backdoor. He opened it and looked around, noticing the synthetic was behind Mahtess. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Why, I am going with Atryn, sir. We have to go pick up the baby.”

“Baby? Oh, that’s right.”

“What’s the problem here?” Atryn grumbled, coolly staring him down.

“This — this synthetic thinks it’s going with us.”

“Her name is Della and yeah, she is going with me. She’s a part of my family and I won’t leave without her.”

Narrie looked at the synthetic and then back to Atryn, not liking the idea too well.

“Come on, say something — spit it out, Inspector,” Atryn said, setting her hands on her hips. “What’s it going to be?”

“Got nothing to say. Let’s get the hell out of here.” Narrie turned to face Della and pointed his finger in her face. “You’d better keep up, gearbox, or I’ll leave your little tuchus behind.”

As they rushed through the hall toward the building exit, Della said, “That will not be a problem, sir. I am capable of variable rate motivation with many degrees of agility. What colloquialism is leave your tuchus behind?”

“Shut up and keep up.” Vigilant and with caution, he scrutinized the outside while approaching the rear glass door.

“You show her some respect; her name is Della,” Atryn said in a demanding whisper.

“Yeah, yeah, I haven’t seen a synthetic yet that was worth its weight in lead solder,” he said with attitude.

“She’s fully flesh and blood.” The crease between Atryn’s eyes deepened. “Well —”

“Shhh.” He opened the door and peered out to see if the coast was clear. “Damn, it gets dark here fast.” He continued to study the area. “Something doesn’t feel right. Back up — back up.” Narrie was on the verge of pulling the door closed when a chunk of the brick wall disappeared near his chest and a loud pop rang out. “Whoa, bullets!” He glanced through the glass door and saw four figures running toward them. “Chameleons, let’s go.”

“How do you know? They all look like humans to me,” Atryn said in a nervous tone.

“Chameleons were bred to be shape-shifters. I can spot’em a mile away, come on, hurry!” He ran back down the hall toward the office, pulling his 45 caliber pistol from its holster.

“Are we going out the front?” Atryn asked.

“No, they’ll be expecting that. Where’s the furnace room?”

“I will show you,” Della said.

Just as they turned the corner into another hallway, chameleons burst through the exit door behind them and fired.

“Go, I’ll catch up with you in a minute.” Narayanan stopped at the corner, pulled out an eighteen hundred lumens flashlight, set it on strobe and aimed it at his attackers, blinding them. He had just enough time to let off a couple of rounds, putting one of them down and ran in the direction of the furnace room.

Three of the attackers cornered the hall, firing at him. Narrie turned around and returned fire, back stepping when someone yanked him out of the hallway and threw him to the floor inside the maintenance room. Della stood over him, gazing at him. He quickly rolled over, aiming his weapon at the open doorway. Atryn slammed the steel door shut and locked the dead bolt.

Della reached to help him up.

“Thanks,” he groaned and looked at Atryn cowering near the corner next to the steel door. “Are you okay?”

She nodded, her breaths deep and rapid as she stepped away as the door. It rumbled from heavy pounding.

Narayanan glanced around the room surmising that it was about fifteen hundred square feet in size filled with heating and air conditioning equipment, wiring, water pipes and ducts. He figured by the size of the building, it would have its own maintenance entrance. He glanced around and noticed a red exit sign.

Atryn hurried next to Della, holding onto her arm and moaned, “Narayanan, I’m scared.”

“I’ll get you to safety,” he said, grasping her hand while holding the Colt 45. Narrie crept through the short darkened hallway toward the maintenance exit, hugging the wall with Atryn in tow. He signaled them to stay put, opened the door in a slow, steady motion, looked around, and stepped out. He ducked behind a bush scoping out the area and signaled them to come ahead. Atryn pulled Della down to squat next to him.

“My vehicle is just around the right side of this tower,” he whispered. “It’s a blue Range Rover parked in the first row. If I have to discharge my weapon, it’ll attract the other chameleons to our location so run hard. We’ll have less than a minute to get there.” Narrie gave Della a stern look. “It’s your job to make sure Atryn gets into the Rover.”

“Understood, sir.”

“To minimize getting caught out in the open, we need to stay close to the building while we make our way to the parking area. Are we clear on that?”

They nodded.

“Let’s go.”

Just as he pushed through the bushes, he heard Atryn scream. “Look out!”

A set of massive arms grabbed him from behind in a bear hug, knocking the gun out of his hand. Narrie pushed back, slamming his attacker against the side of the building. “Della, get my gun,” he growled, ramming his head backwards, feeling the nose of his assailant break under the impact. He followed that with a side-kick to the merc's knee, forcing him to the ground, groaning in pain.

Two more came at him shoulder to shoulder as Della crossed paths while going for the weapon. One of the goons shoved her out of the way and into the bushes where she retrieved the gun as the other one lunged at him. Narrie rotated on his foot, momentum carrying his right elbow in full circle with a crushing blow to the second one’s jaw. The attacker crumbled to the ground, green blood spattering over his head and chest. He turned to face the other attacker dodging a blow to his face and punched him in the gut followed by a quick upper cut to his nose with the butt of his palm. The merc’s head flew backward carrying the weight of his body crashing into Della as she was making her way back to Atryn.

“How did you do that?” Atryn exclaimed, tiptoeing around the bodies to help Della off the ground.

“I know how to dance, sweetheart. Give me the gun, Della, hurry.”

Atryn reached to help her get to her feet. “Are you all right, Della?”

“Yes, ma’am. I think so,” she said, handing the weapon to Narrie.

“Let’s go.” He led them, his hand gripping the pistol in front of him. They crept along twenty yards when suddenly two chameleons met them. He was fortunate to see them before they saw him. They were already in the sight of his gun when they turned and raised their weapons to fire. He shot twice, hitting center mass to their upper torsos, the sound from the blast resounding off the hard surface of the building. No sooner than the mercs fell to the ground, he heard Atryn scream. Narrie turned to see Della covering her with her body. “Are you injured?”

Atryn moaned.  “No, but I hate guns,”

“The gunfire will alert the others, run!” he yelled. Before he could twist around, he saw Della pushing herself up off Atryn, grabbed a fistful of the back of her jacket, and yanked her to her feet. By the time he was behind the wheel of the Rover and inserting the key, Della and Atryn were in the back seat.

The engine roared to life and he stepped on the accelerator. After he rounded the first curve of the parking lot, two more assassins jumped in front of him, firing at the Rover. Narrie veered to his right, crashing into them, their bodies flying over the top of the car. Atryn yelped. The Rover jumped the curb and onto the main road where Narrie headed out of the city.

“Are you okay back there?”

“I’m shaken but all right,” Atryn said.

“The first thing we have to do is get your kid and ditch this car. The chameleons will recognize us right off. Give me directions.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something sliding into the seat next to him. It was Della slinking over the backrest like a prize-winning contortionist. “What are you doing up here?”

“I get the impression that you do not like me very much,” she said.

“You’re just a gearbox to me... nothing more.”

“I had hoped we could be friends. Turn left at the next light.”

“Being friends denotes caring and emotion, which you have neither.”

“Why is it you think you know so much about me? How do you know that I don’t have feelings? Turn right at the next street.”

“Because you’re a synthetic”

“Are all synthetics created equal? Are humans?”

“What are you driving at?”

“There are worlds in the galaxy that have whole species of synthetic beings that are sentient, intelligent life forms. Are they any less valued and revered than the human species? The human body is nothing more than an organic machine, is it not? My biological mind and body are very similar to yours. Does that make me any less equal to you?”

He glanced at her. “Are you sentient?”

“I believe I am. Turn left at the next street and it will be the third structure on the left, number 6101.

He pulled up in front of the house and glared at her. “Are you telling me that you are aware of who you are and that you have feelings and consciousness?”

Della lifted an opal necklace from beneath her blouse and gazed at it. “Atryn gave this to me when she was ten years old. I have cherished it ever since. When the chameleons shot at us a while ago, I feared for her life.” She stuffed it back into her blouse. “I’ll be just a minute.”

“You are going to get the child?” He looked in the rear seat to find Atryn passed out. “What happened to her?”

“Her stress levels were peaking, so she took a light sedative. It will wear off soon.” Della got out of the car and went through the front door. A few minutes had passed and she came out holding an infant wrapped in a white baby blanket. She climbed back into the front seat. The baby cried. Della made soothing shushing sounds while rocking the baby back and forth.

“Look, I have nothing against babies, but that crying is like dragging fingernails over a chalkboard, it grates on my nerves.”

“This is Teako. I had to wake him. He will go to sleep in a little while.”

He glanced in the back to see if the noise had disturbed Atryn. She was still lying on the seat, out like a light. He sighed from irritation, pulled the lever into drive and headed toward the market district.

Fourteen

A halo of light appeared glowing in the night sky and Narayanan turned right on a back road that led into a residential community. “That must be a commercial location with lots of activity. That’s where we’re heading.” Another quarter mile the road dumped him into a super mall, a perfect place to ditch the car. He pulled into a parking spot surrounded by a sea of vehicles and turned in his seat to see Atryn still sedated. “Wake up, we’re leaving,” he said while shaking her shoulder. He and Della waited outside while Atryn crawled out of the back seat, fluffing her hair and straightening her skirt. “Where are we?”

“ChinSein Mall, we’re going into that restaurant and get a bite to eat. After that, I’m coming back out here to see if there is any interest in the Rover.”

“What do you mean by interest?” Atryn asked.

“The bad guys — understand something, I’ve been dealing in covert operations for years, and I take nothing for granted. If you do, you’re dead.” Narrie gazed around. “I think we lost them, but I still need to keep an eye out. Chameleons won’t bother us in such a crowded place.” He gazed around again. “Let’s go, just relax and leave everything to me.”

Narrie strolled toward the Novara Restaurant on the left side of the mall with Atryn holding Teako, followed by Della. The ChinSein Mall could’ve mirrored any large shopping center in the world bustling with people, diversity of life forms making the only difference. A cinema marquee next to the restaurant displayed show times for an action/adventure movie called Blood Lust. The mall’s many brightly lit signs set off a festive experience along with the aromatic attraction of a food court and an open-fronted store with scented candles.

The three of them entered the restaurant and seated themselves at a table next to the window so he could keep an eye on the comings and goings around the sidewalk.

“I’m famished,” Atryn said, picking up a menu. “Oh, they have pizza here. The two best things Earth has to offer are pizza and coffee.”

“But not together, right?”

“Why not?”

“You can’t drink coffee with pizza,” he exclaimed with a drawl, his eyes squeezing down. “I’d have to arrest you for committing an atrocity against good taste.”

She chuckled. “You just watch me.”

Narrie put his hand to his forehead. “Ugh.”

Atryn smiled. “What do you drink with it?”

“Beer, or at the least a soda...something fizzy. What is Gearbox going to have?”

Atryn’s expression turned sullen. “Don’t call her that. Della may not show emotions very often but trust me, she has them.” She inserted the menu back into its holder. “I’m not very hungry anymore.”

Della sat upright with perfect posture, rocking Teako in her arms. “Atryn, you must consume something to replenish your energy. I am all right so please, place your order; I will watch the baby. I can take him for a walk so that I will not be a bother,” Della said.

“It’s not you who’s the bother,” she said glowering at Narayanan.

“Now I feel bad,” he said with a solemn expression while looking at Atryn. “I was out of line and I apologize.”

Atryn’s eyes flashed with ire. “Don’t apologize to me — apologize to her!”

“You’re right—you’re right.” He turned to look at Della saying, “I’m sorry for being... insensitive, and I’ll try harder to be on my best behavior.”

“Apology accepted, sir.”

Atryn bent over and whispered to him, “Is that the best you’ve got?”

Narayanan thought for a moment and said, “Short of getting down on my knees, yeah, I think so.”

Atryn grabbed the menu and groaned, “All right, I’m hungry again.”

He cracked a thin-lipped smile. “Beer and pizza sounds good to me. How do you like your pizza?”

“Extra cheese with pepperoni and I’ll try a soda.”

“You won’t regret it.” Narrie turned to Della. “And what would you like to have?”

“A slice of pizza and a vanilla shake will do, sir.”

“Okay then.” He stood and walked toward the counter.

Della gazed at Atryn with curiosity. “Will he be back?”

“Of course, Della, he just left long enough to order for us, why do you ask?”

“Agent Narayanan doesn’t seem to like us very much.”

“Oh, I think he’s all right, it’s just his personality. Did Nelsa feed Teako within the last hour?”

“Yes, and I have several bottles of formula in the bag.”

Narayanan returned with a numbered sign he placed on the table so they know where to deliver the order.

The baby went restless and cried. Della rose from her seat with Teako in her arms. “I’m going to walk around for a while until he falls asleep. We do not wish to disturb those who are having their meal.”

Narayanan watched her go out into the corridor with the baby. “You must trust her a lot.”

“I trust her with my life and the life of my child. Like I said, Della is family... she practically raised me.”

“When we were being chased by the chameleons did you tell her to yank me out of the hall like that?”

“No, as a matter of fact, she told me to get ready to bolt the door. It happened so fast, I hardly remember doing it. Silly me, I guess I was so petrified my brain was in low gear.”

He moved across the table to face her. “She was on top of you outside the building; what was that about?”

“Della was protecting me . . . Your pessimism and distrust for synthetics are obvious. Why do you dislike them so much?”

“When I first enlisted in the ISF Agency, my partner and I were assigned to work with several synthetics. There was this reptilian drug cartel from RecKlon Four smuggling narcotics into Antica. Jeff was a plant impersonating a drug dealer negotiating a transaction to buy a shipment of cocaine from them.

“He was recognized by one of the gang members, but they didn’t let on right away. He sensed something was wrong; maybe his cover had been blown so he signaled us to get him out of there. The lieutenant in charge was a synthetic and kept saying that it was mathematically impossible that Jeff would be recognized.” He gazed at the tabletop. “Mathematically impossible... right. We could hear scuffling and shouting going on so I ignored his orders not to engage and entered.

“By the time I got there, it was too late; they had killed him. The synthetics showed no emotion — no remorse over his death. Ever since then, I haven’t had the stomach to be around one. You see, in my business, gut-instincts in investigative practices fall somewhere between observation and reasonable suspicion. This can lead to logical deductive reasoning, which was a good indicator for imminent threats, or a pathway that leads to solving a case.

“By contrast, synthetics deduce only factual evidence by using their own quantum computerized processors filled with tens of thousands of positronic nano-processors. It functions from an output of networking algorithms, logic and mathematical equations. Once fulfilled, the synthetic produces a summation for a conclusion based on multiple arguments they assume are true. In truth, they are just a computer without intuition and common sense.”

Atryn folded her arms on the table. “I understand why you might feel the way you do. But synthetic beings are a lot like humans. Yes, they are imperfect and they make mistakes too. With us it’s that sixth sense you get when something doesn’t seem right, just like you had for your partner. With them, most everything has to do with computing the odds that something will or will not happen and their action or inaction will usually be determined by hard figures. On my world, we specialize in cybernetic organisms and synthetic beings. There they stay more in subservient roles. Society doesn’t put them in high positions of power.”

“You’re talking about a species of slaves.”

“Not really. After creation, the synthetic goes to a home or place of business and learns right from wrong, what to do and when to do it. They become acclimated to our culture and we grow to trust them. Once they are part of the community and obey the laws, they are free to go and do anything they please. The majority, like Della, stay with the ones they grew up with, those they feel most comfortable to be with.”

“There’s that word feel again. They feel nothing.”

“Oh really, look at her with Teako and watch how she looks at him. Della cares for him.”

“Any computer can be programmed to act that way and —”

“Oh, you’re impossible!”

Narrie looked up to see their pizza being delivered to the table. “Easy, sweetheart, you’re going to lose your appetite again, and then I’d have to eat the whole thing myself.”

The aroma wafted over them as the waiter set the food and drinks on the table.

“If you think your skewed, twisted viewpoints are going to cheat me out of sinking my teeth into a delicious pizza; you’re out of your mind.”

He smiled and went to get Della. Once returned, Della sat, holding Teako in one arm and sipped on her shake with the other.

Atryn took a bite of pizza and followed with a sip of cola. Her eyes smiled and grew large. “Oh my, Narrie, you are right... this is wonderful.” She gazed at him and asked, “So how did you get into this line of work?”

He chased his pizza down with a gulp of beer. “My father was a diplomat from India arranging trade deals with the west, mostly with the U.S. Dad met Mom in London and they married six months later. They traveled extensively on business so my Aunt Ester raised me in a village called Buxton near Manchester, England. At sixteen, I moved to the States with my parents, finished school and did a stint in the US Marines. I went back to Britain, joined the intelligence community where I turned operative for MI6 and gathered intelligence from Asia and Russia.

“This led me to the British Ministry of Defense a few years after it had closed down the investigation on UFO sightings. MoD opened a secret department called Alien Activity Investigation and loaned me to the Orion Alliance of Planets. That’s where I first met Logan Pyke and he recruited me to the InterStellar Force agency.”

“Wow, that’s quite a résumé. Do you like what you do?”

“Yeah, I suppose... I don’t know anything else.” Narrie finished his pizza and beer, glancing at Atryn. “I’m going to check on the Rover.”

Della looked at Atryn with a question mark stamped on her face. “Will he be coming back?”

Atryn laid a hand on her arm. “Yes Della, not to worry.”

Narayanan stopped just outside the mall and in view of the Rover. He held his position for ten minutes looking for any sign that the vehicle might be under surveillance. Nothing made him suspicious. He pulled out his cell phone and logged on to Antica’s Online web service to locate a motel to rent a couple of rooms for the night. An Ebbans Motel on Centica Road was within walking distance. He called and made reservations under one of his several aliases, Martin Lethorford. Afterward, he called the car rental place and left a message to pick up the Range Rover.

Atryn had a cup of coffee to her lips when he walked through the door. Della was holding Teako in her arms trying to get him to sleep. “I reserved us rooms for the night. Tomorrow, I’ll get some wheels.”

“Did you call a cab,” Atryn asked.

“No, it’s not far so we’re going to hoof it.”

“I beg your pardon, sir. What is hooffit?” Della asked.

“Walk — we’re going to walk there. Cabbies have to log their destinations, which will leave a paper trail. That can be risky and I don’t care to stay up all night watching the doors.”

“A nice walk will do us good. Let’s get going,” Atryn said.

Once out of the mall parking lot, they strolled under a long canopy of trees next to the curb of the road in a subdivision. An occasional house had an outside light and a streetlight stood at the intersection of every block. The homes and infrastructure were not unlike a typical middle-class USA suburb.

Atryn slipped into a light sweater to ward off the chilled night air. “So, why did you help us tonight?”

“Oh you know the usual thing... damsel in distress, lives on the line, wanting to be the hero type, that sort of stuff.”

Atryn chuckled. “Come on, cut the crap.”

“We felt responsible.”

“Nothing is as simple as chivalry, Agent Narayanan.”

“I’m simply being truthful, Ms. Mahtess.”

“Do I detect a hint of sarcasm in your voice?”

“Nope, even though I’ve been accused of it, I’m not capable of sarcasm or humor.”

Atryn giggled. “Give me a break. Are you ready to tell me where Vullen fits into all this?”

“An informant told us that Draconis needs this planet for a way-station and consumption of our minerals.”

“Is there a country that’ll lease them some remote location for a base of operations,” Atryn asked.

“Nope, they want the whole ball of wax.”

Della shifted Teako to her other arm and caught up to walk next to Narayanan. “What does it mean the whole ball of wax?”

“It means they want the planet and everything on it,” Narrie said.

Della turned a quiet expression while processing that statement and then said, “Thousands of years ago, the Draconians settled here on Earth and claimed this planet as Draconis territory. After they left, humans evolved very quickly with the help of the Orions, Lyrans, and Pleiadians. Now that Earth is significant to their strategic plans, it is overpopulated with humans. Your species are low life forms to them. How does it feel to be thought of as insignificant, Inspector?”

“Doesn’t bother me as long as they don’t eat me.” He chuckled, a grin cracking across his usually stolid looking face.

“Oh!” Atryn squealed in laughter. “That’s not a very pleasant thought. Besides, you’d probably be too tough.”

Narrie chuckled. “Yeah, I might need some marinating and meat tenderizing.” He glanced at her. “You know, it may be in your best interest to get yourself, Teako and Della on the next ship home.”

“There must be something that can be done, sir,” Della said.

“It’s difficult to do anything when you don’t know what the threat is or when it’ll happen,” he said.

“Can’t you elicit more help?” Atryn asked. “I mean, it’d be so sad to see anything happen to Earth. I love this planet and its inhabitants. It’s unique and beautiful here with so much diverse life.”

“If Earth was up against an entire world order, it would be far less difficult to gain the intelligence we need, but we’re not. We are dealing with one powerful crazed dark lord commissioned by a Draconis emperor who we suspect wants to annihilate us. What is it they say about terrorism? We have to be lucky one hundred percent of the time but a terrorist only has to be lucky once. That’s a daunting task for any one country or world to take on.”

“Then why don’t you have more investigators on the job?” Atryn asked.

“There is an old saying; too many chefs spoil the broth.”

“I do not understand, sir.” Della said.

“Until we can figure out what we’re up against, too many investigators on the same case would be counter-productive. We do have a support structure in place from some other worlds and most of the powerful governments here on Earth. What we need right now is a solid lead, a clairvoyant, a soothsayer or something.”

Atryn stopped cold in her tracks and gasped, “Soothsayer . . . of course!”

Narayanan looked at her with concern. “I was just kidding, Ms. Mahtess. I don’t believe in such things.”

“Call me Atryn.” She gazed at Della. “Remember that group that came through Antica last year? Something about getting special visas for an oracle to live in the rainforest of South America. Because we handle special permits for reptilians, we were the only ones capable of giving permits for their security force.”

“Yes, ma’am. It was the Hadessah species from Altar Prime in the Cainan System. Priestess Evik came here for the Amazon rainforest’s healing powers. She is the foreseer and foreteller of prophecy. A special Hadessah can produce visions of future events within fluid matter, usually water. Documentation validates that Priestess Evik has made many successful predictions. If there is even a slight chance to save this world, I would certainly encourage Agent Narayanan to at least check into it.”

A broad smile drew over Atryn’s expression, placing her hands on her hips and stared Narayanan down. “Gearbox, huh, put that in your pipe and smoke it.”

“Well, glory be,” he said with a smile. “Della, maybe you have a soul tucked away inside that synthetic head after all. Back at the tower, you protected Atryn and me, cared for the baby and now this. I take back every lemon-sucking thing I said or thought about you. You deserve a wet, sloppy kiss.”

“That will not be necessary, sir.”

“From now on, you can call me Narrie.”

“I will have some difficulty doing that, sir. I must show a level of respect when greeting you. Please be advised there is no guarantee that the priestess will identify Vullen’s intentions, but you may yet learn something.”

“That’s okay, I agree it’s a lead, and if you guys are convinced she is credible, then it’s worth pursuing. When we get to the motel, I’ll call Logan and inform him about the Hadessah Priestess.”

Tears welled in Atryn’s eyes. “You said you guys.”

“Yeah, I know it’s not politically correct to call women, guys, but hey... what’s a word between friends.”

“Why that’s the nicest thing you’ve said since this whole mess started.”

“Really — I thought I’ve been rather charming.”

“Don’t you see, when you said you guys; you were including Della too.”

“Well of course, she’s part of your family. Now see there, aren’t you proud of yourself for changing the way I think about Della? Come on, let’s go to our rooms and get a good night’s rest. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

Fifteen

Megan picked up a handful of dishes from the dinner table, walked to the kitchen and stacked them on top of the counter next to the sink.

“Can I help you with the dishes?” Jack asked.

“Nah, I’ll wash them after Deb goes to bed when it’s nice and quiet. She’s so glad you joined us for supper tonight; she says she’s been pestering you to come.” Megan laughed at a near whisper. “According to her, you have more excuses than Burger Chef has French fries. Her dad used to say that a lot.”

“I didn’t want to be a bother.” Jack picked up some dishes and followed her into the kitchen. “How about you, are you all right with having me up?”

Megan smiled. “Yeah, it was nice. It felt good to have a man with a healthy appetite at my table again.”

“I have to admit, I’m getting better, but I still seem to go through periods when it takes a while to get going.”

“Say, I had a thought earlier, maybe we could all go to the park down by the bay and have a picnic this weekend.”

“That’d be terrific; it’d be nice to get out for a while. Where did Debbie run off to so fast?”

“She wants to show you her new board game.” She laughed. “It’s Junior Monopoly, a cut-down version of the original.”

“I’m not very good at board games,” he said with a sigh.

“You don’t have to play if you’re not up for it.”

“Actually, it’d give me something to do; besides I enjoy hearing her laugh. She has a way of putting me in a good mood.”

Debbie placed her board game on the table with zeal and shouted, “Jack.” As they entered the dining room, she said, “Come play with me — you too, Mommy.” They were ready to sit when the doorbell chimed.

“I’ll get it,” Megan said. “Why don’t you show him how to play, I’ll be right back.” She made her way through a short hall, into the foyer and opened the door. “Hi Mr. Pyke, please come in.”

“Thank you. How are things going here?”

“With me or with Jack.”

“You first,” he said, smiling.

“Between trying to keep up with Debbie, the house and my job, things can get pretty hectic, but no complaints. As far as Jack goes, he’s been working hard at getting into shape. He walks and runs every day and he’s eating like a horse. If eating is any sign that he’s feeling better, then he’s well on his way to a full recovery,” she said with a chuckle. Megan turned to face the hall and called out, “Jack, you’ve got company.”

He strolled out into the foyer, followed by Debbie. “Logan, what brings you here?”

“Well, that’s a fine how-do-you-do.” Logan looked at Debbie and smiled. “And how are you doing, young lady, are you taking good care of Jack for me?”

She looked up at him with a shy nod and grasped Jack’s hand.

“Please excuse us, I have to speak with Jack on some matters of business,” Logan said with a smile. “It was good to see you two again.” He turned, opened the door and walked onto the porch.

Debbie looked up at Jack with sad eyes, tugging on his hand. “You’re coming back to play, aren’t you?”

“Sure thing, give me a few minutes.” Jack closed the door behind him. “Let’s go downstairs where we can talk.”

Logan followed him off the front porch steps and through the gate, making their way to his apartment. “Looks as though you’ve developed quite a nice relationship there,” Logan said. “You surprise me; you never liked kids before your injury.”

“Yeah, that’s what Sims said.”

A feminine voice floated over the air behind him. “Yes, I did say that.”

Jack turned to see Sims smiling at him instead of Logan. “Jeez, don’t do that!”

“Do what?”

He opened the door and entered his living room, casually flailing his arms and hands. “All that — that hocus-pocus, shape-shifting stuff. Why was it necessary to show up as Logan?”

“Logan wants to keep my identity concealed around here. When I arrived, you weren’t here so I had to disguise myself when I came to get you.”

“So, what’s this about and where’s Logan?”

“He’s busy getting arrangements for us to go on assignment. “The main reason I came is to tell you we’re going to the Amazon region in South America, and to give you a healing session.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“Maybe a week or more. I believe they have satellite service so if you need us, try calling Logan on his cell.”

“So, where were you yesterday? I missed our session. I always feel so much better after, at least for a while, anyway.”

“Hmm, well now... a thank-you — sort of. Coming from you, that’s encouraging.”

He gazed at her. “Sims, I owe you my life. A simple thank you just never seems enough.” He shook his finger and smiled. “But when I come up with something, I’ll let you know.”

She placed her hand on his shoulder. “You just did.” She pulled the chair up next to the bed and sat. “So, how did the little girl like her bike?”

“She loved it. I got excited just watching her get excited. It’s like experiencing something like that all over again but through a child’s eyes. You did a good thing, Sims. Thanks.”

“Oh, it was nothing. You were right; a little charitable act is good for the soul.”

“Can I ask you something personal?”

“Depends on what it is?”

“The one thing that strikes me about you is how you’ve honed human emotions so well. Are they real or is it just another simulation to make it look real?”

“I’m not a robot and even though I’m not totally biological, at least not yet, I still have a spirit... an essence. I think most sentient beings do. Yes, I feel happiness, sadness, love, hate, anger, envy and curiosity but like any other being, some things affect me more than others. I had to study a variety of humans and practice to be able to express my facial movement with a high degree of effectiveness.”

“What about fear?”

“To a certain point, I don’t feel physical pain, but I can be damaged.

“How?”

She chuckled. “Now look, I can’t be giving out my deepest, darkest secrets.”

“Give me one example. What makes you afraid?”

“Lightning.”

“Huh? You have a better chance at winning the lottery than get hit by lightning.”

“Not so. Remember, I’m made up of gaseous molecules and thirty percent of me is polarized with positive and negative ions. That makes me a lightning rod right to ground. If I were to get struck, a good portion of my molecular makeup would get displaced from what holds me together. It would be difficult for me to heal. The elders made the dangers of leaving my world very clear to me.”

He leaned back on the pillow, thinking what it would be like to be an Exscenchian. “Wow.”

“Okay, get comfortable and close your eyes. I’ll give you your healing session now before I leave.”

“Wait a minute. He grabbed his cell phone and called Megan. “Hi, our business is going to take longer than I thought. Tell Debbie I’m sorry. We’ll play tomorrow night.” .... “You too, goodnight.” He lay back down and she placed her hand on his chest. “I’ve been looking forward to this. It makes all the buzzing in my body go away.” He opened one eye. “Are you anatomically correct as a woman? Do you ever get aroused?”

“What? Stop with the 20 Questions! Now, close your eyes.” Sims smiled and shook her head. After the healing hour was up, he fell into a deep state of alpha. She placed a tracking device inside him made up of specific positively charged molecules infused into a blue sphere the size of a small pearl. With this device, she can track him anywhere in the world if the need arises. Once inside his body, she raised her palm to guide the device toward the skull just inside the lower cranium.

She allowed him to rest and moved over next to a wall outlet. Her image faded to partial transparency, turned into a gaseous luminescence, entered the electrical socket, and disappeared within seconds.

Amazon Rainforest, Brazil, South America

As the sun rose above the jungle, a spacecraft touched down in a clearing near a dirt road a half mile from Madeira River. Logan, Tihbit and Sims stepped out of the elevator module that descended from the craft. Thick, green foliage surrounded the clearing with scents of exotic plants and wildlife musk mixing in the heavy, damp air. Screeches from embittered howler monkeys drifted from the tree line, giving notice to any intruder invading their kingdom to stay away.

A Hadessah female and a uniformed male approached them from the dirt road. Her striking dark blue eyes and plump youthful skin attracted Logan’s stare. She looked delicate with a pale complexion and long auburn hair receding to the top of the cranium, flowing over her shoulders. Her elf-like ears barely protruded through her thick, straight mane.

“Mr. Pyke?”

“Yes, how do you do?”

“Fine thank you, my name is Lorrell and I want to present General Kinta. I’m First Assistant to Priestess Evik and the general is in charge of security.”

General Kinta nodded with a barely noticeable bow of the head.

Logan smiled. “We are glad to meet you. Allow me to introduce my ISF partner, Sims and my Antica advisor, Tihbit.”

Lorrell radiated a warmth to her smile as she turned. “Please, follow me. We received your urgent request to see Priestess Evik. You said that a powerful individual may be planning an attack on Earth?”

“Yes, we believe this planet is in peril.”

“The priestess is prepared to do anything to help prevent that,” Lorrell said. “She traveled thousands of light years to the Amazon region because of the incredible energy it collects. It connects and flows from the highest canopy of trees through the roots, the soil, the rocks and the water. Even the creatures give back to the rainforest after using that which is necessary to sustain life. It is a spiritual healing experience that we call zessance.”

“Can she show us how the attack will occur? We suspect who, but what we need to find out is how and when,” Sims said.

“It’s hard to say what result she might discover. There are so many variables when gazing into the future. Please, climb on the bus. We’ll be taken to a pier where we will cross the Madeira on a flat bottom boat. From there, we go by foot for a half mile to the village.” She looked at Tihbit and smiled. “And where are you from, my little friend?”

“The planet Ceblis, my lady. At the moment, I live in Antica City.”

“I thought I recognized your species. Isn’t that around a hundred light years from here?”

“A hundred and fourteen to be exact.”

“Your queen’s name is Xantha?”

“Yes.”

“Queen Xantha’s compassion for her people and friendship to her visitors is admirable.”

Tihbit’s eyes sparkled with delight that someone of this importance knows about his home world. “Thank you, ma’am. Have you been there?”

“Our ship was in need of repair and your queen graciously allowed us to dock at your space station. She invited us to the surface and gave a quick tour of your capital city. She is a great leader, Tihbit, you should be proud.”

He puffed his chest out and smiled large. “I am.”

“Your world is beautiful; it reminds me a lot of this place.”

“You speak English well,” Sims said.

“I am fluent in six languages from five planets including the native tribal language here.”

They stepped inside the bus.

“Ah, air conditioning. Is it always this stifling here?” Logan asked.

“Amazonia gets a hundred twenty inches of rain per year. Aside from one of the wettest places on Earth, it also receives the most sunlight. That combination makes for a very hot and humid environment. The average temperature is eighty degrees and if the humidity is at ninety percent, it would seem more like eighty-six. On average, it can drop to sixty-four degrees at night.”

The driver closed the door and pulled away.

Tihbit glanced out the back window, watching the spacecraft hovering before it ascended.

“How about the wildlife?” Sims asked

“Incredible... two thirds of the Amazon is located right here in Brazil. The basin is about three million square miles, around the size of the United States. It’s estimated to have sixteen thousand tree species with three hundred ninety billion individual trees and two and a half million species of insects. Ants are the predominant insect and I find it fascinating they use the trees and vines as highways.

“The rainforest is home to four hundred twenty seven types of animals, thirteen hundred birds and three hundred seventy eight types of reptiles. Among the largest predators are the black caiman, jaguar, and anaconda. Other creatures to watch out for are poison dart frogs that secrete toxins from their skin. Vampire bats can spread rabies and there’s always a chance of getting Malaria, yellow fever and Dengue fever.”

While Sims was talking to Lorrell, Tihbit leaned toward Logan with eyes wide and whispered, “On my world, we do not have nearly this number of wild animals.” He rotated his head, gazing out the windows. “And, the diseases... is it too late to turn back?”

Logan grinned at him and turned to Lorrell. “I’m impressed, you’ve done your homework.”

“It was required by Priestess Evik that we study the lay of the land and the local tribes here.”

“Is there anything we should know before meeting the oracle?” Logan asked.

“Evik is a humble person. I think the saying here is down to earth. She never stands on ceremony and expects no one to treat her as royalty, but she demands respect for Hadessah core values and to the people that are hosting us.”

“Who are these people?” Sims asked.

“They are the Matsigenka from southeast Peru, but this tribe moved farther into the Amazon Forest. The chief aspires to the old way of life and in his earlier village in Peru, he didn’t care for the more modernized tribes. Their homes, their jobs, and their culture had been affected by outside influences.”

“Before coming here, I read something about the communities of Amazonia,” Sims said. “These primitive people value their privacy above all other things.”

“Yes, there are holdouts like the one you are going to visit. They wish to remain un-contacted by the human race, though that will change now that you are here.”

“I hope we won’t be too much of an inconvenience,” Tihbit said.

“No, the chief understands the gravity of this situation and they wish to help prevent any harm that may come to this world. Privacy and their way of life is why Priestess Evik chose this tribe. Negotiations for their acceptance of us lasted for months. When we made first contact with them, the Priestess healed a very sick child when their own shamans couldn’t. It was the chief’s daughter and he spoke to the tribe explaining how the priestess has strong medicine, so he welcomed us into his home. They believe in a divinity and sacredness of nature. With that, they say the forest is here to nurture them, heal them with its herbs, animals, and fish. The tribal chief sensed that the priestess had that same connection with their surroundings.”

“Where are we... exactly,” Tihbit asked of Lorrell, rubbing his furry chin.

“In Central Amazon where the closest city is Manaus on the Amazon River a hundred sixty-three miles from here.”

The bus pulled to a halt in front of a riverside dock, the brakes letting out an edgy high-pitched squeal.

“Here we are,” Lorrell said and stepped off the bus. “While we’re in the boat, keep your limbs out of the water. The river is full of black caiman and piranha.”

“Caiman?” Tihbit asked.

“They are reptiles similar to alligators and crocodiles. They could yank you out of the boat before you could yell for help.”

“You would barely be a mouthful for them,” Logan said with a chuckle.

Tihbit frowned and growled, “Oh, that’s a comforting thought, Logan.”

They climbed in the boat and Tihbit sat between Logan and Sims, crossing his arms between his legs. He gazed out over the water’s surface and moaned. “The Dracs would surely be at home here.”

“What’d you say, Tihbit?” Logan asked.

“Oh nothing, just talking to myself.”

Sixteen

The river’s surface appeared serene as the bus driver started the boat engine, steering toward the opposite bank. Shallow ripples rolled outward from the bow while several young boa constrictors undulated through the nearby shoreline. He pulled alongside the dock, and a man jumped out to secure the boat long enough for the passengers to step out onto the short pier.

“We must walk from here,” Lorrell said, pointing to a worn path that headed in a slanted direction.

Logan noticed a few natives standing guard along the way. The onlookers stared at them, smiled and chatted something to each other in a near whisper. Heavy foliage invaded the trail in some areas as the group hiked farther into the rainforest. Logan unbuttoned the top of his shirt feeling uncomfortable from the stifling heat index.

When they approached the village, shouting voices echoed past them and excited children’s laughter whirled through the seams of the trees as though they were hard at play. The path opened into cleared grounds under a canopy of the tall trees. Villagers used tree limbs covered with thatch to build their abodes. On the south end of the village, brush gave way to gardens planted with fruits and vegetables indigenous to the area.

Sims gazed at the activity when they approached the outskirts of the village. “The people here dress in unusual garments and they seem to work very hard at their tasks.”

“They are clothed in slip-on-garments called a cushma,” Lorrell said, “and they make the attire from wild-cotton colored in vegetable dyes and certain tree bark dyes. Then they dry them in the sun. The desired colors are from lilac to reddish brown. A man’s cushma has vertical stripes, and for women, horizontal stripes.

“Men make crowns in the shape of topless hats decorated with feathers. They used achiote to paint bodies of both sexes for decoration, and it also serves to protect against sunburn and insect bites. A popular pastime is tattooing.”

Black designs tattooed the faces and necks of the men, their bodies decorated with partitions of red paint. Women wore beads and tattooed their faces far less than the men. Except for waistbands and beads, a small portion of the villager’s exposed their genitalia, breasts and posteriors while working around the village grounds.

Lorrell pointed to a shack, saying, “We have to go through a decontamination process. Aside from the Hadessah, you are the only outsiders to visit this village. What may only make you a little ill might kill them. We will go in with you since we’ve been exposed too.” She walked into the grass shack followed by Sims, Tihbit, Logan, General Kinta and his men. The general closed the door, latched it and a red light came on in the center of the room. The walls appeared to be stainless steel with an electronic control panel where Lorrell stood to program a computer.

“We had this shack built around the decontamination chamber to make it blend with the surrounding huts.”

“What do you use to power this thing, a monkey on a tread wheel?” Tihbit asked.

Lorrell smiled. “Solar collectors mounted at the tops of these trees provide the necessary power we need. On the outside, our shelters appear like the others here but on the inside, we have power to run our computers and communication devices.”

“And air conditioners too, I hope,” Logan said with a chuckle.

Lorrell smiled. “And that too.”

Sims shook her head and laughed at him. “Be nice.”

What about communication?” Logan asked.

“One of the stipulations for visiting was no cell phones or satellite hookups of any kind. The government and the chief were very adamant about the types of equipment we could bring. Your representatives were fortunate to find Mr. Jahenka in the city of Manaus. He managed to get a helicopter pilot to fly him here to negotiate permission for you to come.”

“And we are most grateful,” Logan said.

Lorrell turned back to the decontamination console and pressed the Start-Button. “Now, everyone relax and breathe deeply. You’ll see a slight haze and a tingling feeling from an ionized gas clinging to your skin. It’s made up of zinc, hydrogen peroxide molecules and an element on our planet called cofagen. It’ll neutralize pathogens in your clothing, outside and inside your body. The process takes around ten minutes.”

“Just curious, are there any side effects like impotency or will my fur start falling off my body while I sleep during the night?” Tihbit asked.

“No.” She chuckled as the time lapsed and the amber light lit. “Decontamination is complete and you may now move among the people.” She focused on Sims. “It is curious why the young lady doesn’t register as a biological life form at all.”

“We’ll explain that later,” Logan said.

Lorrell turned back to study Sims for a second. “I’m looking forward to that.”

Logan leaned into Lorrell and whispered, “The general doesn’t say much, does he.”

“General Kinta is being respectful. He was only exposed to your language when we passed through Antica City. It concerns him he might say something improper.”

“You don’t use translators here?”

“The translation devices aren’t programmed for the tribe’s language, we learned to communicate the old fashion way.”

“Ah.”

The overhead light flashed from amber to green, indicating that it was all right to exit through the door. Lorrell stood to face her guests. “Are you ready to meet the tribal people?”

Logan was the first to stand. “Looking forward to it, ma’am.”

“The best thing to do is smile and don’t make any fast or sudden moves. These are a very curious people and they’ll be a little standoffish at first.” Lorrell turned to Sims. “After they get used to you, the women will pull you aside and explore what you have underneath that blue jumpsuit.” She turned to Tihbit. “As for you, my little friend, the youngsters will swarm you — and Logan, the men folk will show off their spears, bows and arrows to you. Be patient, after the newness wears off, they will treat you as if you aren’t even here. The chief will see to that.”

Lorrell opened the door and as twilight waned, flames from an open fire warmed the center of the village where curious eyes fell upon their strange visitors. “It’d be nice for you to spend a couple of hours getting acquainted with the tribe. I’ll interpret the language for you this evening. Tomorrow afternoon, I will introduce you to Priestess Evik.”

“That sounds fine.” Logan diverted his gaze to the joyful screaming of the children that had gathered around Tihbit. They were feeling and petting his fur.

Tihbit glanced at Sims and she chuckled. “He’s soaking up all that attention like a sponge. He’s so cute and such a ham.”

“What did Narayanan say he looks like, a small version of a wookie? What’s that?” Logan asked.

“I don’t know, but with Narrie you can never tell how his brain works from one minute to the next.”

“Tihbit seems very comfortable around children,” Lorrell said. “Come, I want you to meet the chief and his family. He has invited us to have dinner with them.”

“Sounds relaxing,” Logan said.

As they approached the front of the tribal chief’s hut, he stood to welcome his guests.

Lorrell introduced Logan, then Sims and Tihbit. The chief smiled large exposing missing front teeth and spoke with enthusiasm while pointing at his guests. Lorrell translated. “He says that you are welcome here because you are concerned about the welfare of the people and the world around them. He says that they are simple people and they do not understand the complexities of those outside their village, the ones who endanger the environment. The chief trusts you and he would like you to share their fire and eat their food.”

“Tell him we are famished and we appreciate the invitation,” Logan said.

After sitting on the ground six feet from the flames, servants handed each of them a small wooden bowl filled with three large brown and white caterpillars. Logan reached into the bowl with hesitation, looked at Lorrell and whispered, “They’re moving.”

“Eating them alive is customary.”

“But... I can’t do that.” Logan looked at Tihbit chowing down on the little critters.

Tihbit turned to face him. “What...”

“You look like you are enjoying it,” he said in a sardonic tone.

“Oh they’re delicious. Put one in your mouth and the little buggers clamp down on your tongue with their tiny feet. Then you roll them around a little so they curl up into a ball. That’s when you bite down and they burst with all the flavor from the juices and guts washing over your tongue. Then you swallow, smile and let the chief know how much you liked it... it’s easy.”

Logan gazed at Sims. “He’s kidding, right?”

Sims glanced at him with deep satisfaction witnessing his torturous revulsion. “Suck it up, buttercup. That’s what you say to me all the time. It’s fun giving you back your own medicine.”

He leaned toward her and whispered, “Do your hocus pocus and turn them into candy... or at least something edible.”

She shook her head.

“Ohhh, you’re enjoying this, aren’t you.”

Lorrell leaned over and whispered, “If you don’t eat it, you will offend these people. It’s not as if they can go to a fancy restaurant, they live off the land.”

Logan looked at the chief smiling at him, egging him on with the motion of his hand going to his lips. He placed the squirming bug in his mouth pretending to chew but swallowed it whole. “Mmm,” he smiled, rubbing his stomach and finished the bowl. A slight queasiness resonated but he never batted an eye.

Tihbit gazed at the fire. “What’s that meat skewered over the flame?”

Lorrell asked the chief and pointed. “He says the one to the left is lizard, the one next to it is snake and the large one is the ham of a wild boar.”

“Oh joy,” Logan sighed.

They spent the rest of the evening socializing with the people gathered around the open fire asking questions and making comments through Lorrell’s translations. The natives danced, sang customary songs, and told tales from their history. The men were friendly, the women charming, and the children studied them out of curiosity.

Onboard the Draconian ship Thopok

The communication’s officer increased the gain on his headset to receive a weak incoming call from a spacecraft approaching the starboard side. “Captain, it’s General Vullen; he’s requesting to board the ship, sir.”

“Permission granted,” the captain said with a growl. He glanced at his first officer. “Commander Nariv, go meet our distinguished guest and escort him to the briefing room.”

“Yes sir.” Nariv made his way to the landing bay where he watched Vullen disembark from his vessel.

Vullen came through the hatchway and noticed Nariv waiting for him. “Commander, I see the captain has sent his first officer to escort me again.”

“Yes sir, it’s my honor, General.”

“Maybe I should see about making you captain of the ThoPok.”

Nariv smiled. “I will serve in that capacity with nobility when and where I’m given the opportunity.” He raised his arm, pointing his hand. “This way, General.” They rode the elevator to the twelfth level, walked down a long corridor and stepped onto the Bridge.

“If there is anything else I can do for you, sir, I am at your service.”

Vullen nodded once as if to say thanks, and opened the briefing room door to find Captain Ondou reading a file on the computer.

He turned to greet his guest. “Have a seat, General Vullen.”

“I’ll stand. What is it this time, Captain?”

“Lieutenant Rajuc brought a human captive on board my ship. He refused to give me any explanation — Why?”

“We’ve been capturing humans to study for centuries. What’s the problem?”

“Draconians perform abductions with permits from a review board using standard operating procedures. This is nothing more than a rogue kidnapping. It goes against every galactic treaty on the books. If it comes back to us, we could be expelled.”

“I needed a secure area to interrogate the prisoner.”

“Who is this human and why is he a prisoner?”

“He works for the ISF and I needed to find out why Logan Pyke went to South America. It was necessary... my mission might be in jeopardy, Captain.”

“Well, since I don’t know what your mission is, I won’t be held responsible for your fallacious judgment. My only concern is the safety of this ship. Now, take that puppet Rajuc and your prisoner and get them off —”

Vullen wrapped his hand around Ondou’s throat and squeezed. “I’m tired of your interference, Captain. It may interest you to know that I have an alliance on board and I can take over this ship with one simple command.” His grip tightened. Ondou gasped, trying to catch a breath, struggling to get free but he couldn’t escape Vullen’s powerful grip. Bones made a dull snapping sound and the captain went limp. He eased his grasp, letting Ondou collapse to the deck. He turned, walked out of the briefing room and stopped on the Bridge. “Commander Nariv.”

“Yes sir,” he replied, walking around the captain’s command-chair to reach him.

“I have promoted you to captain, Commander Nariv,” Vullen said.

“Sir?”

“I will notify Emperor Gortac that you are in command of the Thopok. I’ll be on Deck 4C, Room 201, Captain.”

To Nariv’s astonishment, he watched Vullen walk away without a hint of an explanation. He turned and opened the briefing room door, discovering his captain lying on the deck, dead. “Captain, Ondou!”

Vullen entered Room 201 and found Rajuc standing over a human male. He had the captive stretched out on a raised metal platform, his hands and feet secured to the corners. He appeared unconscious, blood dripping from his eyes with multiple burned lesions running up the inside of his arms. “Did you gain the information we need?”

“This human was stubborn at first, but he gave in when I tortured him with the baloot. After one full arm of searing cuts, he became delirious. He was a brave man.”

“Who is he?”

“An analyst for the ISF Agency by the name Terrance Huntington.”

“You chose well, my friend.”

“What do you want done with him?”

“Put him in an airlock and release him into space. Where did Pyke go?”

“To see an oracle at a village in the Amazon rainforest. The priestess is some kind of clairvoyant. I have the exact coordinates.”

Vullen raised his clinched fist in front of him, saying, “Get the chameleons to infiltrate the village, I want Logan Pyke and the priestess dead.

Seventeen

Atryn sauntered from the back bedroom and approached Narrie sitting on the couch, drinking a soda. “Della and I need to go pick up a few things for dinner. Can you look after Teako?” Atryn said.

“Sure, wear those headscarves so you’re not readily recognized.”

“Would you like me to grow a big scruffy looking beard too?”

He grinned. “Wouldn’t hurt... it might even be an improvement.”

Atryn frowned and affectionately slapped him on the shoulder, smiling. “Hey, watch it, buster.” After they left, he walked over to make sure the baby was doing okay. Narayanan had little experience around children much less an infant. In his world, to bond with one was even more improbable than a day on a golf course, but it happened. He couldn’t explain why if he tried.

Teako slobbered out gurgling noises and alien sounding baby talk, smiling up at him.

“How’re yah doin’ there, partner?”

Teako kicked his feet in the air, pushing the blanket off.

Narrie covered him and spoke in a low tone, “Yeah, I know how you feel. I used to get irritated too when I was uprooted and moved to a strange place. You’re lucky you have a mom that wants to provide you with a stable life. You won’t have to put up with it too much longer.” He sighed, glancing around the room. “Though, living here is better than staying at motels, right?”

Narrie’s cell phone rang. The secured channel flashed a red light from Mr. Fox at the Toiyabe ET Base in California. “Yes sir.”

“General Bradley called and said Terrance Huntington didn’t show up for work today. Dispatch just received a transponder signal on his frequency.”

Narrie exhaled with dread. “What color was it?”

“Red.”

“Damn, I liked Terrance. Are you sure he’s dead?”

“They designed the software to energize the red LED when the heart stops.”

“Was there a yellow tracking signal?”

“Only long enough to get a general idea of where he is — you’re not going to believe it.”

“Where is he, sir?”

“In orbit above Earth.”

Narayanan walked to the screen door and gazed out into the back yard. Why would someone kidnap a person and go to all that trouble to kill him in outer space... No, the better question would be why would an alien capture an ETS agent to get him secured off planet to interrogate him — Vullen! “Mr. Fox, I think Vullen is behind this murder. I believe he’s learned where Logan and Sims went. Hang on a minute while I call him.” Narayanan switched to another channel and dialed Logan’s number. It wouldn’t connect. “Sir, I’ve got to warn them. Have a pilot and the fastest ship ready at the parking bay here in Antica City. I need to get to the Amazon rainforest in the quickest possible time.”

“Head straight there. I’ll call you with all the information and coordinates you’ll need to find them.”

“I’ll be on my way when Atryn gets back.”

“Why do you need to wait for her?”

“Umm — I’m, ah... babysitting, sir.”

“You’re what? No need to explain, just call me when you’re leaving there.”

Before Fox hung up, Narrie heard what he thought was laughter in the background. He moaned, rolled his eyes, and whispered, “Damn, I’ll never hear the end of this.”

All of a sudden, Teako wailed in a crying fit and he hurried to the crib, bent over and looked at him. “Hey there partner, what’s the problem, yah hungry?” Narrie reached down and rubbed him on the chest. “Easy does it, your mama’s not here and I don’t have a manual for crying babies.”

Teako screamed even louder, turning red in the face. “Oh my God, what do I do?” he groaned to himself in a near whisper. “Uh...” Narrie looked around and found a play toy that made a ringing noise. He held it above him and shook it. “How about that.” He shook it again. “Don’t like that, huh?” He picked up a pacifier and stuck it in his mouth but the baby spit it out frantically shaking his hands and kicking his feet.

“Kid, if you don’t stop that, you’re going to drive me to drinking. Whaddaya want?” Narrie scanned the area looking for something to use. “This is worse than being tortured,” he said in a moan. He thought for a second remembering Della picking him up and walking him. “Okay, okay, hold on there, kiddo. We’re gonna’ try this.” He picked him up and cradled him, rocking him in his arms with a gentle up and down motion as he walked around the room. Teako let out three consecutive burps and quieted down.

“Oh, so that’s what the problem was. A little gassy, aye. Well partner, you and I just learned something new. I’ll have to remember that if I ever get saddled with another baby. Okay, let’s put you back down in your crib. If Logan ever got wind of this, my life would be pure hell. And it’d be all your fault.”

Just as he was getting ready to put the baby down, it hurled on the front of his shirt. Narayanan stood blank faced in disbelief with spit, milk and chunks of something yellow spattered over his chest. He gazed at him with a sober expression. “Now that wasn’t nice. A little warning would’ve been helpful you know. You do realize, I don’t have another shirt and now I have to explain to a hundred people why I have baby vomit all over me. On top of that, I’m going to smell like baby vomit, thank you very much.”

Narrie went to get a damp rag and wiped the baby’s mouth and chin. “I see you didn’t throw up on your shirt.” Teako burst out crying nonstop again. “You just love to make me suffer, don’t you kid?”

Twenty minutes had passed. Atryn and Della returned to find Narrie sitting at the kitchen table with head in hand, looking frazzled. They put the groceries on the counter and turned to look at him with a curious gaze.

“Did the baby give you any trouble?” Atryn asked.

He said nothing and pointed to the bedroom.

Panic stricken, Atryn ran to the crib with Della close behind. A scream echoed down the hallway, followed by a frantic. “Narayanan, get in here!”

He went to the crib and looked at her pointing at the baby with a horrified expression on her face.

“My baby is sucking on the barrel of a gun!”

“Yeah, I think his gums are hurting.”

“That’s dangerous!”

“Aw, no it’s not; I pulled the magazine and emptied the chamber.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of ice cubes in a rag?”

“No, I’m not what you call baby friendly, but I’ll remember next time, if there ever is one.” He reached in and pulled the weapon from the baby’s grip with a gentle motion, checking out the slobber dripping from the barrel. “Sorry, partner, but mom doesn’t want you playing with guns.” Teako started crying and Narrie glared at Atryn. “Well, my man’s gums are hurting — ice cubes in a rag, hurry.”

“I will get it, ma’am,” Della said.

Atryn followed Narayanan to the kitchen and sat across the table observing him cleaning his pistol. “I apologize for getting upset, but when I saw Teako with the gun in his mouth, it startled me.”

Narrie glanced at her nonchalantly. “Oh, that’s all right, you were just being a concerned mom... can’t fault you for that.”

“We have something special for dinner tonight. We’ll have us a little celebration for finding such a terrific place to hide out.” Atryn’s smile loosened, noticing his expression was a bit more stolid than normal. “What’s the matter... you’re leaving us aren’t you.”

“I have to, Logan and Sims might be in danger in South America.”

Atryn walked to the sink and lowered her head. “What about us? We’re in danger too.” Her voice cracked, feeling jittery and stressed. “How are we going to make it on our own?”

Narrie grasped her arm and turned her around to face him. “Hey, you’re going to do just fine. Stay near the house and if you need something, hire a neighbor to go buy it for you.”

“But I —”

“If you get scared or flustered and you can’t think straight,” he looked at Della, “then listen to the voice of reason. Della will tell you what to do.”

Atryn’s gaze fell to the front of his shirt, her expression loosened and she snickered. “You smell like baby vomit.”

His eyes flew to the top of his head. “Thanks.”

Her nervous giggle went to uncontrollable full belly laughter as she turned to the sink and dampened a towel. “I’m so sorry, but that pathetic look on your face is priceless.”

“Very funny.”

“Wear your jacket over it, the smell will go away soon.”

Narrie reached into his pocket and handed her a roll of gold tokens and some loose silver. “I’m not sure how soon, but I’ll be back to check on you.”

Atryn’s expression softened with concern and reached to give him back the money. “No, I can’t take this, it’s way too much.”

Narrie folded her hand over the tokens. “You’re under our protection. Besides,” he chuckled, “where I’m going, they don’t care much for gold so it won’t do me any good, anyway. Who knows, I might have to sacrifice a body part just to get a drink of water.”

A smile crept across her face. “You’re nuts, you know that.”

At a loss for words, he took a few seconds to respond. “Well yeah, I’ve been told that a time or two.” He walked toward the front door and stopped next to Della. “I’m depending on you to keep Atryn and the little man safe.”

“I will, sir and you be careful.”

Narayanan looked back at Atryn, her eyes showing anguish. “You’ll be okay.” He turned and left.

Logan, Sims and Tihbit had just finished breakfast and left to get better acquainted with the tribal people. During the day, Logan learned to spear fish in the river while Sims made necklaces and cultivated papaya. The youngsters took Tihbit exploring in the caves next to a waterfall just south of the village. After a full day with the people, they met back at their hut to prepare for a meeting with the priestess. Twilight drew near when her powers of clairvoyance will be at its peak. At 6PM, they stood at the door of Priestess Evik’s bungalow. Logan knocked.

Lorrell opened it. “Come in and have a seat while I announce your arrival.” She walked to another room and soon returned with the oracle. “I would like you to meet the Hadessah Priestess Evik,” Lorrell said.

“Welcome,” Evik said in a soft tone and smiled. “You must be Logan Pyke, it’s nice to see you.”

Logan bowed his head and said, “It’s my honor.”

Evik appeared even more youthful than Lorrell, her plump smooth skin and long black hair enhanced her dark, exotic eyes. A red and white silk ceremonial robe covered her thin-boned frame, her eyes shifting to Sims. “Ah, welcome Sims. I sense no biological signs with you. So, you are a gaseous shape-shifter.”

“Yes, I am. How did you know?”

“Lorrell mentioned that your scan in decontamination showed negative. You’re not a cyborg or a synthetic. I sense no mechanical or biological means of shape-shifting so the only thing left is molecular. You can control atoms... fascinating.”

“Once I understand the physiological makeup of a species, like a human, I can simulate the basic physical appearance and outright functions. It will take time to reproduce all its senses and anatomical working parts and it takes a little longer to perform the process of adaptation.”

“Is it your goal to be fully human?”

“Maybe... the more I learn about humanity, the more I’m intrigued with the possibilities.”

Evik’s eyes smiled at her with fascination and then turned her attention to Tihbit. “Hello, I see you have a way with children. Tiny open minds can sense the goodness in someone, and I appreciate you spending time with them.”

“I enjoyed being with them and I want to thank you and Logan Pyke for allowing me to be here.”

“You’re welcome,” she said and gazed at Logan with curiosity. “So tell me, who is this being that is threatening this planet?”

“His name is LeCertis Vullen, a Setti of the Black Suns.”

Evik’s haunted stare fixated on Logan for a few seconds. “Vullen,” she whispered. “This is serious; his reputation precedes him wherever he goes. Tell me then, how may I help you?”

“A security agent got into an altercation that involved Vullen. The agent was badly injured. He knows what Vullen’s operation is, but he lost his memory. We had hoped that it would have returned by now but it hasn’t. We are trying to track down any clue that could give us a lead on how to prevent Vullen from completing his mission.

“The ISF emailed me your dossier recorded in the Orion Chronicles before we left Antica City, Priestess. You predicted the Kozan’s invasion on your own planet, and the cataclysmic polar shift on Dersylon within five years of its occurrence. Then there were the droughts on the Golian wetlands, the attempted assassination on Emperor Setrafor on Rizon Six, and many others with incredible accuracy. We hope you can tell us what Vullen intends to do?”

Evik turned and sat in a high-back leather cushioned chair with ornate wrought iron legs and backrest. She exercised the perfect posture; her chin elevated with the slightest degree and paused before answering. “I can’t say how the act will be performed or verify by whom. What I can show is the results from the act. By witnessing what happens, you might figure out how.”

“Would you be able to tell when it takes place?” Sims asked.

“I can’t narrow it down to the hour or even the day, but I can get it within months. You see, the future has not yet been written and there are forces and circumstances that can alter or delay the event. The ISF’s involvement has already affected the occurrence in ways no one could possibly expect. We shall see.”

Priestess Evik walked to a three-foot diameter brass saucer filled with clear water sitting on a brass stand the height of her waist. With palms face-down and forearms parallel to the top of the saucer, she closed her eyes. She moved her hands in gentle motions four inches above the water.

“The priestess is lowering the temperature of the water to just above freezing,” Lorrell whispered. “The rapid drop in the water’s temperature reacting to the warmer air in the room will produce a fog.”

Tihbit looked for wires and condensing coils beneath the saucer but saw nothing. His eyes widened seeing small amounts of fog appearing on the water’s surface, swirling around her hands. The colder the water, the more vapor developed. Soon, clouds of mist poured over the edges of the pan, the water showing signs of a swirling action with a funnel-like current in the center. Evik opened her eyes and reached into a glass container, grabbed a handful of ground dust and sprinkled it over the water.

Lorrell whispered at Logan just loud enough to be heard. “She’s applying minute quartz crystals into the water. Depending on the interactions between charged particles and the emission of photons, a quantum of electromagnetic radiation produces light and color much like a typical computer screen. A kinetic reaction between her mind and the liquid exponentially increases, enabling the priestess to project her prophetic images onto the water’s surface.”

A kaleidoscope of fractal coloration swirled into vortexes and traveled along the liquid eddies in the saucer. Soon, light and color exhibited a defined picturesque view as the fog subsided. It appeared to be a cityscape, fuzzy at first but soon cleared to a high resolution.

“It’s like watching a news broadcast on TV,” Logan whispered. He glanced up to see Priestess Evik’s impassive expression, her arms at her side; her eyes closed exhibiting a serene quality. The images in the saucer changed every five seconds scanning New York City, London, Paris, Sidney, Tokyo, Seoul, Cairo, Mexico City, Beijing, and Rome; it continued for another minute.

Logan’s nervous-system buzzed as he observed the tragedy unfold before his eyes. It truly is worldwide and it’s the same in every location... nothing, no movement, no life. People have vanished, leaving everything standing at that moment in time — the vehicles, the buildings, the infrastructure. Even a stack of newspapers was left sitting on the sidewalk by the corner drugstore. Yet, there is no destruction anywhere. Why? What’s in Vullen’s arsenal that could cause this?

Logan noticed Lorrell turning her head toward the door behind them. He twisted around to look. It was General Kinta motioning at her. She nodded and the general left the way he came.

Eighteen

When her trance lifted, Priestess Evik placed her hand on her stomach, light headed queasiness followed. She sat and gazed at her guests. “I have never felt such suffering of life before. It chills me to the very core of my essence. Animals, insects, reptiles and sea creatures are thriving so whatever is about to happen is specifically targeted at the humans of this world.”

“Do you have any idea what may cause this catastrophe?” Logan asked.

“No and I am sorry, Agent Pyke.”

“I saw a bundle of newspapers on a sidewalk. Were you able to make out a date?”

“Wish I could be of more help to you on this matter. If you’ll excuse me, this session has drained my energy so much, I must lie down.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

Lorrell nodded at one of her assistants to aid the priestess in going to her private chamber. She turned to Logan and said, “General Kinta told me a man showed up at the river and somehow communicated to the guards that he knows you. He’s waiting at the outer perimeter of the village and he says it’s a matter of life or death.”

“I don’t like the sound of this. Sims, you and Tihbit stay here and watch things. I’ll be right back.” Logan rushed through the door and hurried past the main grouping of huts. Just beyond the decontamination cubicle, he saw a man wearing a baseball cap, white cotton shirt and khakis. Narrie... what the hell? He walked within speaking distance. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you guys okay?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?

Narayanan glanced around the village. “I hope I’m wrong, but I believe Vullen is sending his mercs here, and it’s not to sit down over a cup of tea and chat about old times.”

“Why would he send mercenaries here?”

“Vullen captured Terrance Huntington and interrogated him — murdered him. Right now he’s floating through space looking down on us. He’s probably wondering why the hell we’re just standing here talking about this while we’re running out of time.”

A native guard burst through the brush excitably yelling as he ran into the village. Logan ran behind him followed by Narayanan. Lorrell rushed out of Evik’s hut to see what the commotion was and joined the tribal chief listening to the guard explain what he saw.

Logan moved next to Lorrell. “Translate.”

“Yes, he says two miles at the landing site downriver, many strangers killed his brother and his friend. He believes they bring death and destruction to the people.”

Angry villager’s raised their voices in a chant of war, slapping the butt of their staffs and spears against the ground in a rhythmic thump of thunder. Logan stepped between Lorrell and the chief, raising his hands high to get their attention. He looked at Lorrell. “Tell the chief that his people are no match for what’s coming. Everyone will die, even the children. It’ll be safer if he takes the tribe to hide deep in the forest. Tell him to leave right now.”

Lorrell hesitated, gazing at the villagers in a stir, overwhelmed with the situation.

“Do it,” Logan said with force and glanced around for Sims and Tihbit. They were waiting by Evik’s hut. He and Narayanan walked to where they were standing.

“What’s going on?” Sims asked.

“Chameleons,” Logan said.

Tihbit groaned. “Oh great, this is going to put a crimp in my day.”

“Hey, Little Bit, are you enjoying yourself here?” Narrie said.

“I was until the grunge bunch showed up.” Tihbit looked up at Logan. “I’m going to help round up the children.”

“Be back here in ten minutes — no later.” Logan gazed around the village. “We only have about forty-five minutes before they get here.”

Lorrell walked past Logan. He grabbed her arm. “I need you with me so you can play interpreter.”

“I have to get the priestess ready.”

“No, you have to listen to me and —”

“I don’t have to do anything! General Kinta will protect us.”

“We don’t have time for this. The general doesn’t know the chameleons like we do. Work with me or all of you will die, including the priestess.”

Lorrell thought for a second and nodded.

“Alright, stay by my side until we’re on the march.”

“On the march?”

“How do you expect to get out of here, sprout wings and fly? The spacecraft that brought us here is prohibited from waiting on the ground.” Logan pointed to the sky. “They’re parked in space. Now, if you keep interrupting me, we’ll be worm food pretty soon.”

Lorrell frowned.

“Tell your assistant to go get Priestess Evik ready. Each individual should carry only what they can get in a backpack. Take a couple bottles of water, small snack food, a raincoat, an extra pair of socks and dress in proper attire for hiking. We’ll be going through some rough country. Also, if you have any sensitive information lying around, destroy it. They have ten minutes and then we’re leaving. Tell the general the same thing and make sure he brings machetes.”

While Lorrell spoke to her assistants, Logan conferred with Narayanan and Sims. “Narrie, fix us up a couple of backpacks. You’ll find everything you need in the back of this hut. Sims, go to the locker in our quarters and get our weapons, the satellite communication linkup device and flashlights. Hurry!”

Lorrell approached Logan. “Alright, what next?”

“Let’s go see the chief.” They found him busy getting his people together. “Ask him if he can spare us a guide.”

Lorrell spoke in his native dialect and he replied while waving at a tall, thin man standing guard next to the tree line. His skin was darker than the average villager. He hurried toward them, the chief spoke while pointing at Logan and the direction of the river. The man glanced at the forest and bowed his head to his chief, turned and motioned another man to join him. He approached Lorrell to discuss something.

“What did he say?” Logan asked.

“He’s very concerned that the tracks of so many will be very easy to follow. He wants to know where you wish to go.”

Logan thought for a moment and said, “We can’t go west back by the river because that’s where the enemy is. We need to find a clearing to the north or northeast. It has to be wide enough for a shuttle to land.”

Lorrell translated and the native replied, pointing to the east and then to the north.

“He said he knows where a place is a half a day’s walk north of here. But, he wants to go east over some rock formations first to throw our attackers off the trail. It will be a hard walk but it will be better.”

“What’s his name?” Logan asked.

She interpreted and the native replied.

“His name is Omenko and his friend is called Karloshi. He will follow up the rear.”

“Tell Omenko ‘thank you.’ Our lives are in his hands,” Logan said, and turned to see the party assembled and ready to leave.

“Line up in a straight line,” Narrie said in a raised voice. He walked person to person, making sure they were dressed for the forest and wore the proper shoes for hiking. He signaled Logan with a thumbs-up, turned to Tihbit kneeling in front of him. “How’re you doing, Little Bit?”

“In what manner do you speak? Am I scared? Yes. Am I worried whether or not I’ll be able to keep up with those twice my size? Yes. Am I worried that I may never see my family again? Yes. Also, is there a possibility I might die today...?” Tihbit put his hand on his chin in contemplation. “Oh, and that’s a big yes — what else do you want to know, my heart rate? Well, it’s through the roof!”

“I’ll keep an eye on you. If you lag behind, I’ll carry you on my back.”

Tihbit put his fists on his hips with his chest puffed out, frowned, and pointed his tiny index finger in Narayanan’s face. “Keep an eye on me, huh? Lag behind, huh — by my furry backside. I’ll keep up if I have to run on all fours, pal.”

Logan nodded at Omenko and the group proceeded. Karloshi swiped the ground with a leafy branch to brush away the tracks until they made it to the rocks. It started out easy enough. The rock formations were flat with a few gaps that they jumped over with little effort. After a while, the trek became steeper and narrower which slowed them to a crawl. In a few treacherous places, Evik’s personal entourage had to be lowered down cliffs by rope-and-tackle.

Two hours into the hike, the edge of the forest was just beyond the next ridge of rock formations. Once in the forest their pace picked up to a steady, even stride. Tihbit straddled Narayanan’s back supported by a long piece of cloth tied around Narrie’s shoulders and chest. His furry head rested between the neck and right shoulder of his ride and moaned. “Are we there yet?”

“That’s the fourth time you’ve asked me that,” Narrie said. “Take a nap, for Christ’s sake.”

“How can I sleep with all this bumping and branches smacking me on the head, and —”

“It’s getting dark; we’ll be stopping to rest soon.”

Another hour passed when Omenko approached Lorrell and spoke with her. She nodded and went to Logan. “Omenko feels we should rest for a while.”

“Let’s take ten. How’s the priestess holding up?”

“She’s exhausted but okay.”

“Did Omenko say how much farther it is?”

“Six hours, maybe more.”

Logan contemplated and said. “That deviation over the rocks took quite a bit of time. Let’s hope it worked. Get some rest.” Logan walked over to Sims and Narayanan just as Tihbit jumped off his back.

“Thanks for the lift, Narrie,” Tihbit said.

“No sweat, Little Bit.”

“I have to stretch out on the ground before I crack in half,” he groaned.

Logan pulled them aside, huddling together. “I have to call dispatch to let them know where to send the ship. They will need our general coordinates so the ship can park itself above us in the upper atmosphere. After we arrive at the extraction point, the ship will receive the coordinates from our beacon. The only problem is will the chameleons intercept my transmission and locate us.”

“That is if they’re even following us now. Those hairless leathery reptiles may’ve given up,” Narrie said.

“If it was anyone but Vullen sending them, I might agree.” Logan glanced up at the sky. “Sims, it’s not quite dark yet. Can you do some reconnaissance to see if we are being followed? If they’re hot on our trail, I need to know how far.”

Sims handed him a red, glowing bead the size of a pearl. “Put this in your pocket. That’s for me to find my way back to you.” She slipped into the woods and stood in the veil of thick brush. There she turned into a vaporous cloud, rearranging her molecules into a red and green macaw. She took flight above the trees, back tracking the direction toward the village.

Logan glanced at his watch and went to where Lorrell was sitting next to the oracle. He squatted beside them and looked at Priestess Evik. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m fine Mr. Pyke. I’m concerned about my staff, though; in our hearts and minds we understand why we are here, but our bodies are telling us we can’t take another step.”

“It’s a tough march and everyone is doing fine. Do the best you can.”

“We will.”

“Can you add anything to what you said back at the village?”

“No, whatever caused the tragedy in the future, I sense it happens within six months to two years prior to what I foresaw... a world without human life.”

Logan hesitated. “It was my impression that you could predict within a month or two of an occurrence.”

“Yes, but this feels so much more insidious than an imminent natural disaster. I can sense great suffering over a long period of time. The purview of the metaphysical is not an exact science. It’s like a gentle breeze blowing between blades of grass, the variables in direction and force become so fluid that it’s beyond the perception of my senses. You must understand, Agent Pyke, the gap in time between now and the actual future occurrence has not been written. Something can skew future history into another direction.

“Maybe you will do something to throw Vullen off his original plan, and it forces him to come up with a different plan, possibly a more destructive one. It could be he decides to lay waste to everything on the surface of the planet like he did on Cromos Two where he nudged an asteroid into the path of their world to destroy all life. Though that’s not what I saw, it doesn’t mean it won’t happen.”

“Would you be willing to perform the ceremony again in a couple of weeks?”

“I can never go back to where and when I channeled before. Once I leave it, the pathway closes forever. I am sorry.”

Logan looked at the ground. “I understand and I appreciate what you’ve done for us. It gives us something to go on. Thank you, Priestess.” He glanced up to see Omenko standing and waving his hands for everyone to get back on their feet. “Well, it’s time to get going.” He reached to help Evik up.

“Thank you, Agent Pyke. I hope you can stop General Vullen.”

“Me too, Ma’am.”

Tihbit climbed into the cloth holster that cradled him on Narrie’s back, cozying up next to his neck. He fell asleep just when it started to rain — not a garden hose sprinkler type of rainfall but a pouring fire hose kind. Tihbit gazed to the heavens. “For the love of Glor, the almighty hates me, I’m sure of it.”

Everyone scrambled to dig out their wetsuits. After Narayanan put his raincoat on, Tihbit had to stick his head above the collar so he could breathe. They continued for another hour, pushing through water soaked branches and crossed over a narrow, rushing stream. On the opposite side, a five-foot embankment confronted them.

Omenko and the general’s men climbed the muddy bank first to help the rest of the party scale to high ground. They knelt, reaching down, grabbing hand to wrist, pulling each one up starting with the oracle. After another ten minutes of walking, the rain stopped. Omenko understood the Amazon’s unpredictability, so he gave everyone instructions to keep their wet gear on for a while longer.

Logan glanced at their trail and thought. With the water soaked ground and foliage, a blind man could follow us.

Sims came up to Logan from behind.

“I’m glad you found your way back,” he said.

“I have bad news.”

Logan raised his voice to get Lorrell’s attention. “Tell Omenko to take ten and you come with me.” Logan, Sims and Narayanan walked to an area away from the others to have a private discussion. Lorrell joined them.

“What’ve you got for me, Sims?” asked Logan.

“By going the way of the rock formations, it bought us time. However, the chameleons soon picked up our trail. While we’ve been walking, they’ve been running. They’re an hour to an hour and a half behind us.”

“It could be that one of their ships picked up our heat signatures and triangulated our position,” Narrie said.

Logan looked at Lorrell. “How far are we from the extraction point?”

“Two hours at our current speed.”

“Sims, how many are there,” Narrie asked.

“Thirty, give or take.”

“All right, here’s the plan,” Logan said. “We are going to run for ten minutes and rest for two. If someone gets too exhausted to keep up, I want one of the younger men to help that person keep moving and I mean move hard. The chameleons have been running longer so they’ll tire quicker and need more breaks. I’m banking on it evening out. If we’re lucky, we’ll get to the extraction point first.

“Lorrell, go explain this to the others and then tell Omenko to move out, but walk for now. Sims and I have to link the satellite communication system so I can get a shuttle craft here.” Logan handed Sims’ homing device to Narayanan. “Take this so Sims knows where to track you. We’ll catch up after I contact Headquarters.”

Narayanan walked toward the group and Tihbit raised his head above the collar of the raincoat. “Good luck guys and hurry your asses. I don’t want to come back here to bail you out of a tough fix.”

Nineteen

Megan rushed around the house, getting ready to leave on an appointment in San Francisco to talk with the loan officer about her mortgage. “Debbie, get dressed, you’re going to stay with Aunt Denise.”

“I wanna’ go with you, Mom, can I?”

“Not today, sweetheart, I’ve got a lot of running around to do so I’ll be in a hurry.”

“Please Mom, can I go, please, pretty please,” she moaned with a plea. “I don’t wanna’ go to Aunt Denise’s house. It’s so boring there.”

“That’s tough, today was the only day I could get that appointment and you are home from school for Teacher’s Day. So get a move on it.”

Debbie pouted and plopped on the couch, sulking. “Aw, Mom,” she said with a drawl.

“Deborah Lynne Jeffries, I don’t have time for this. I’m going to tell Jack we’re leaving for the day. When I get back, I expect you to be ready, young lady; now go get whatever you want to take.” Megan rushed out the front door, walked through the side gate, hurried to Jack’s door and knocked. The door opened.

“Mornin’, Megan.”

“Good morning, I just wanted to let you know we’ll be gone most of the day. I have to go to town. Want me to pick you up anything?”

“Oh, would you mind if I tag along? I’ve got the worse case of cabin fever. I need to get out or I’ll go stir crazy.”

“You’d be bored out of your mind with the stuff I have to do.”

“Tell you what, you drop me off and when you’re ready to leave, call me on my cell and I’ll meet you at the car. I just want to stroll around, maybe have some lunch.”

“Are you sure you’re up to going.”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. All the running and walking I do every day is getting me back in shape. Give me a second to get my wallet and phone.”

The drive took thirty minutes after she dropped Debbie off to her sister’s house. Megan pulled into a parking lot, grabbed a ticket from the machine and found a spot on the first level. “Okay, Jack,” she said, looking at her watch. “It’s ten-thirty; I’ll be tied up for at least four hours with a few other errands. If you start feeling bad, call me.”

Jack smiled. “Not to worry, I’ll be fine.”

Stores lined both sides of Market Street; people packed the sidewalks forcing him to sidestep and weave in places to get through the crowd. By the time he neared First Street, he had window-shopped four stores and bought Debbie a doll to be a companion for Jean So Clean.

Jack stopped at Wendy’s to have a quick burger and Coke. He had several episodes of seeing familiar faces but ignored them, remembering what Logan told him about his implanted memories. After he came out, he got a whiff of the salty air from the bay. It beckoned him to go and sit by the water, to listen to the waves slapping against the retaining wall. The temperature felt mild and when the sun peeked from behind the clouds, the warmth on his face absorbed through every pore.

A weathered old bench mounted to the concrete walkway was mere feet from the water where he reclined and rested the doll on his lap. Jean So Clean’s new companion gazed up at him. Her eyes seemed to have a puzzled expression as if to ask, Jack, you don’t like children, so why are you taking me home to Debbie?

That odd question drilled him like a speck of light escaping a black void. Where did such a thought come from and why did it manifest? Jack had a hard time answering that since he couldn’t remember who he was, or anything in his history. Could he have heard it somewhere? Or, maybe it resided deep in the darkest recesses of his mind. He adored Megan and Debbie and the sudden emotion jolted him, unsettled him.

The cell phone vibrated. Jack pulled it out from his shirt pocket and flipped it open. It was a text message from Megan: Are you doing okay? Hope you’re enjoying yourself. He texted back: Doing great! Am heading back up the other side of Market Street, CU soon. Jack looked at the time displayed on the phone’s LCD screen. One o’clock. That gives me an hour and a half.

After twenty minutes walking back toward the car, he came upon a novelty store. The unusual items aroused his curiosity, so he killed a little time to look around. Something hanging from the ceiling looked familiar to him. It was a mirror-ball rotating slowly, illuminated by two halogen spotlights. Jack must have been absorbed by it because he was unaware of a sales clerk standing behind him.

“This is a different version of the retro mirror balls of the psychedelic era in the nineteen-sixties,” she said.

He came out of his daze and glanced at her. “Huh?”

“The square mirrors back then were smaller and had many more of them. This ball has much larger ones and fewer of them so the light gives out a hypnotic wavy effect.”

“For someone so young, you seem to know a lot about that era.”

“We have to,” she said, looking up at the ball, “our boss requires us to learn everything on all the products in the store.”

Jack noticed something strange with her eyes every time the light from the mirrors reflected onto her face. They seemed to change shape and it took him a second to realize what was happening. Her pupils altered from round to vertical slits as a cat’s does when they go from a low light to a bright light.

According to Logan, he had just discovered his first veiled reptilian. Just then it came to mind Logan told him never to leave the house. Being forgetful might be the only excuse he could use that may have put himself in grave danger. When she lowered her head to face him, her expression was a dead giveaway; he was sure of it now. She recognized him.

“Thanks for the info. It was very enlightening.” Jack walked away browsing more merchandise while trying to appear inconspicuous, sticking around to see if she acted in a more suspicious manner. He picked up a mirror with its handle molded into a woman’s hourglass body with naked breasts. With his back to the cash register, he aimed the reflection at the two girls talking at the counter. The one that helped him was pointing her finger his way. The longer he hung around, the more he invited trouble; it was time to leave.

Outside the store, he headed back toward the bay beating himself up over his poor judgment to come to town. Foremost, he wanted to make sure he wasn’t being tailed and if so, there was no way he was going back to the car. Jack stopped at a storefront gazing at the merchandise and did a couple of casual sideways glances. Soon, two tough looking ruffians came around the corner of the store giving him egregious stares.

Logan told him he was a military trained agent working close with extraterrestrials. Jack didn’t know how or why but a powerful instinct took control, guiding him, telling him what to do. He started walking, slow at first, and then picked up the pace while glancing over his shoulder. The goons coming after him confirmed it; he had been fingered.

Adrenaline kicked in and he ran, glancing back, seeing them in pursuit. They followed him between two stores, into a mall, up an escalator and through a door that led to an upper level parking area. A door to his right opened to the stairs going down. As he made it to the lower landing, he heard the door behind him open with feet beating the concrete steps.

His energy had diminished. Jack threw the bag holding Debbie’s doll in the corner of a landing knowing that he couldn’t run anymore. He crouched on the next flight of steps and waited. When the first one rushed to the landing, he stood, grabbed him by the shirt collar, swung him around and shoved him down the steps.

While that one tumbled head over heels, he engaged the second one with a punch in the gut followed by an uppercut to the jaw. Jack grabbed him and forced him over the railing, watching him follow his friend down the stairs.

There was no time to ponder his next move. The choice was obvious, run like hell or die trying to fight them. Jack grabbed the doll, jumped over the two assailants, rushed to the first level and ran toward the back of the mall noticing a row of dumpsters. In two steps on a full sprint, he vaulted himself into the middle dumpster, closed the lid and wormed his way under large bags of what seemed to be shredded paper.

Jack turned his cell phone off in case it rang. He waited and listened. Soon, he heard footsteps next to the metal container where he was hiding. Two voices spoke in an unintelligible language followed by a heavy thump on the side of the dumpster. He presumed it was a frustrated fist-butt from one of the pursuer’s hand. After a few minutes, they left. Dog-tired, Jack felt his eyes growing heavy, soon falling asleep from exhaustion.

Something thumping on the bags above him startled him. Jack groaned, squirmed his way to the surface and poked his head above the lip to look out. Night had fallen and there stood a lady picking up trash bags from a cart. She turned, screamed, and dropped her bags seeing a set of eyes staring back at her from inside the trash container.

“It’s okay, lady, I threw my wallet away by accident and I had to look for it.” Jack grinned, pulled his wallet out from his pocket and fanned it in front of her. “See, I found it!” He stuffed the doll in his jacket and jumped out, steadying himself by holding onto the lip of the dumpster. “Whew, have you ever done something that stupid? Probably not. I wasn’t so much worried about the money, but I had all my credit cards and driver’s license in it, know what I mean? Well, you have a great night.”

The woman looked surprised and concerned as he walked away, never saying a word. Jack glanced at his watch. Eight thirty-five. Megan must be worried sick. He headed north and found himself walking through a commercial section of town with L.E.D. lights flashing messages for ads in an array of colors.

Signs with white lights exhibiting an advertisement selling Maiden’s Soft Ice Cream were ignored by shoppers and passersby. Jack stopped at a busy intersection and waited until the traffic light turned red. The pedestrian sign flashed giving permission to cross the street. People herded like cattle at a river crossing and he was in the middle of it heading to the other side.

The crowd thinned and when he was able to separate himself, he stopped to admire a couple of murals painted on the face of a building. One depicted the Artist Formerly Known as Prince wearing a purple suit, heavy with thick creases while he crouched. It portrayed him wailing on his guitar accompanied by three beautiful women singing into microphones behind him. The other mural was more avant-garde with graphic designs created from curves, circles, and rectangles. He needed that small distraction to get his mind on something else if only for a moment.

Jack turned and started walking again. Sims keeps asking me what I remember. I can tell how concerned she and Logan are about this LeCertis Vullen character. He sounds dangerous, a real whack job. Sometimes, I feel like I want to just bang my head against the wall and try to shake something loose. I’d probably make things worse. He chuckled to himself. It’d be my luck I’d lose what little I have left.

He stopped on a corner next to a section of land thick with trees and shrubs. A sign to his left read Buena Vista Park. He pulled out his cell phone to check the time. Damn, nine o’clock. Better find a place to hold up and call Megan. It might be risky standing out in the open so he walked toward a patch of thick trees where he sat on a park bench. It started to drizzle. He gazed up at the night sky and groaned. Terrific. He pulled the top of his jacket tight around his neck and turned his phone back on to check for messages. There were six from Megan. He dialed her number. “Hi Megan.”

“Jack, I’ve been so worried. What happened to you? Are you all right? I’ve been calling you for hours. I tried calling Logan too, but he doesn’t answer.”

“My phone was off... it’s a long story. Can you come and pick me up?”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at Haight and Buena Vista Avenue on the park side.”

“First, I have to call my sister to come over to sit with Debbie. I’ll be on my way in ten minutes.”

“Thanks, sure you don’t mind?”

“No, of course not.”

“I’m on a park bench some ways off the road next to a big trash can.”

“I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

Jack tucked his phone in his shirt pocket and the doll inside his jacket while gazing around the sidewalks for anyone suspicious. One pole lamp on the street corner illuminated the intersection. The rain fell in a merciless downpour; he became chilled and weak. Hunched over and drenched, Jack saw a set of headlights slowing to a halt on the road in front of him.

“Oh my God — Oh, my God, Jack!” Megan shouted through the pouring rain after slamming the car door. She ran through the wet grass and knelt pushing rain soaked hair off his forehead. “You must be freezing.”

“I’m okay,” he moaned, shivering.

“My ass you’re okay. Come on, let’s get you home.” Megan helped him into the car and rushed to the driver’s side, climbed in and headed back. “What happened?”

Jack didn’t want to lie but for her safety, he had to. “I went to the mall behind Market Street and walked around a bit before heading back to the car. Thought I’d take a shortcut and go down the parking garage stairs. A couple of men mugged me and stole three hundred dollars. Both of them fought me for the phone but I held on to it. Everything became so fuzzy. I heard someone coming, and the thugs ran. I was exhausted and passed out.”

“Nobody stopped to help you?”

“No,” he chuckled. “They probably thought I was a homeless drunk.”

“Ooo, that burns my hide.”

The head of the doll plopped out when he unzipped his jacket. Jack pulled her all the way out to check her condition. “I hope you don’t mind but I got this for Debbie.”

“Oh, she’s gorgeous, Jack, you shouldn’t have.”

“Debbie told me Jean So Clean needed someone to talk to, so I looked for a companion. I’ll give it to her when I get back on my feet.”

“Oh, Deb’s going to die over that. Thank you so much.”

“I enjoyed doing it, I owe you guys.”

Megan cranked up the heat and headed across Golden Gate Bridge soon pulling into the driveway. She got out of the car, dashed to the passenger side to aid him, placing her shoulder under his arm. “Lean on me, I need to get you into a warm bed.” She guided him across the courtyard, through his front door, into the bathroom and sat him on the toilet lid. “Wait here, I'll get you a change of clothes.” She fetched a pair of sweats from his bedroom and handed it to him. “Here, dry yourself off and put these on.”

She closed the door and headed to the kitchen to brew some hot tea. When she took the tea to his bedside and turned around, he was staggering toward her, his knees giving way and collapsing into her arms. "Easy Jack," she groaned, and braced herself to avoid falling. "Help me out, or we're both going down."

Jack managed to straighten his legs, and she helped him to bed, tucked him in, and dimmed the lamp. “Go to sleep, I'm going to call Logan again. I'll be back soon to check on you.” Steam from the hot tea curled around the cup. Jack reached for it and took a sip, warming his frozen insides. He placed it back on the nightstand, and lay back down on the pillow, closed his eyes as fatigue dragged him into sleep.

Twenty

Meanwhile back at the Amazon Rain Forest

Logan rushed to his backpack to retrieve the portable communication device. “Let’s get off this trail; I don’t want the mercs to find our dish.” They hurried west for five minutes and stopped. “Look for an open space between the trees so I can get a good signal. I’ll prep everything.” He pulled the transceiver, mounting legs, and antenna out of the backpack and assembled them.

“Over here,” Sims said.

Logan set the unit near her feet and unfolded the antenna to its full four foot length. He turned the unit on and booted it up. After the green ready-light lit, he flipped the switch to Auto-locater. “Satellites are in a high geostationary orbit so this should link up in short order.” Just when the Auto-locater light turned green, it confirmed that the device had locked onto the satellite.

“HQ this is 39367, over.” There was no response and he repeated the call-sign several more times when a static voice came back.

“39367, it’s good to hear your voice. We’ve been concerned over your whereabouts. Over.”

“Thanks, things are getting heated down here and we’ll need immediate evac. Over.”

“We now have you and your coordinates on our scope. According to infrared, there is a large party in pursuit and closing fast. Over.”

“We concur. We are stepping up our movement to stay ahead. There should be a clearing due north of us. When we reach it, I’ll place a beacon there to signal the ship. Over.”

“Affirmative, you are two point three miles away, good luck. Over and out.”

“Let’s get the hell out of here, Sims. I can almost feel them breathing down our necks.” Within ten minutes, they caught up with the group and he shouted at Lorrell, “Let’s move!”

Lorrell relayed to Omenko to pick up the pace. Ten minutes passed and they stopped to catch their breath.

Narayanan approached Lorrell. “Tell everyone not to sit but stretch to keep from cramping and sip water, don’t guzzle. If they have a sugary snack, a couple of bites will help.

She nodded and rushed to the group.

Logan made a mental note: The four women in the group look exhausted. The general and his three men seem less affected by the sprint. The stronger will need to help the weak. I hope we don’t run into any obstacles.

Omenko signaled it was time and the group started their next ten-minute run cycle. After eight minutes, exhaustion had taken its toll. Priestess Evik and Lorrell could barely walk and their two younger assistants weren’t in any better condition. Logan helped Evik, Narayanan handed Tihbit to Sims and helped Lorrell, and two of the general’s men helped Evik’s assistants. After another four cycle’s, they stopped for their two minute rest. Except for Sims and Tihbit, the group was on the verge of collapse, stretching, sipping and quietly contemplating their situation.

Logan walked to Lorrell.

“We need to rest,” she said, panting. Lorrell bent over, resting her hands on her knees. “I don’t think we can take another step.”

“You had better find the will. Otherwise, you’ll get eternal rest after those chameleons catch up to us. Call Omenko over here.”

She slowly rose to an upright posture and called him.

“Ask him how far to the clearing.”

Lorrell translated the question and Omenko replied, animating his hands.

“He says another two cycles of running should get us there.”

Logan pulled the beacon out of his bag and handed it to Sims. “Give Tihbit back to Narrie, I want you to get there fast and place it on the edge of the extraction zone. Come back, we’ll need your help to get these tired people to the clearing.”

“I don’t know the exact location and distance so I can’t relocate. I must run on foot, but I’ll be back in an instant.”

“Understood, get going.”

Sims nodded and took off on the trail in a full sprint.

Logan looked at Lorrell. “Come with me.” He approached the group. “Have everyone gather around.”

Lorrell moved next to Evik to translate as he spoke.

Logan gazed around at their exhausted faces. “I know how tired everyone is. So am I. But, we’re almost there. If you give up now, think about the loved ones you leave behind, your homes — your futures... those chameleons chasing us will never quit. They carry assault weapons and they are fast and determined, so we have to be faster and more determined. You are exhausted, your legs are burning, and you’re out of breath. I’m asking you to dig deeper and find the strength. All you have to do is put one foot in front of the other as fast as you can. There’ll be no stopping from here until we get on that shuttle. Now move!”

They ran for what seemed an eternity, pushing their way through thick foliage, some stumbling and falling, stripping off shirts and dropping their backpacks.

Sims showed up and nodded at Logan. “The beacon is operational.”

After another ten minutes on the run, sudden bursts of automatic particle-beam gunfire came from behind them. Short bursts from chameleon beam discharges tore through thick underbrush, exploding trees and limbs with a heated flash. Everyone took cover. Logan could almost feel hot beams splitting the air near his right ear. He and Narayanan ducked behind a thick fallen tree and fired back with their Glocks. A volley of gunshots cracked the air to their left as General Kinta and his men fired their weapons at the mercs.

“Sims, get these people to the shuttle! I want the general and his men to go with you to protect the others. We’ll try to slow them down.” Logan looked at Tihbit still hanging on Narayanan’s back. “Tihbit, go with Sims.”

“Give me a weapon, I can help.”

“We don’t have any more. Go with Sims to the transport,” Narrie said, squeezing off two more rounds.

“Good luck! I’m out of here.” He jumped off and ran to Sims on all fours.

Leaves and branches from trees were getting shredded like confetti the closer the mercs came. Logan and Narayanan fired several shots and hugged the ground closest to the massive dead tree trunk.

Logan checked his pocket for magazines. “How’re you looking ammo-wise?”

“Got one magazine left.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

“I didn’t know I was going to be stuck taking on the whole damn chameleon army! How many mags you got?”

“Only what I’ve loaded.”

“Oh hell, we’re not getting far with that,” Narrie groaned, firing two more rounds. “Things would be a lot more even if we had our M6s.”

“Particle initiators aren’t allowed off base, remember?”

“I can wish can’t I... too bad the mercs don’t follow the law.”

“To your right, one o’clock!” Logan growled. As three chameleons rushed them, he noticed they were not mimicking their human form. In their natural humanoid reptilian appearance, they appeared with bulging eyes and a slight green tint to their hairless leathery skin. They waddled when they ran like a chimp on two legs. Logan had a clean shot and took them down. “Let’s move, they know our position.”

Narayanan crawled behind him beneath a stream of beams striking what seemed like everything above their heads, getting sprayed with minced foliage and riddled branches. A multitude of explosions sounded like firecrackers and cherry-bombs as heated particle beams struck succulent trunks and branches of certain types of trees. They slipped behind another fallen tree giving them ideal protection as round after round tore at the top of the trunk.

Narayanan released an empty magazine and pulled out his last one. He smiled. “Well Butch, looks like we’re out manned and out gunned. I guess this is goodbye.”

Logan scowled.  “Butch? Who the hell is Butch?”

“Legend has it that Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid were American western outlaws held up in a hut somewhere here in South America. They were being attacked by the Federales and were low on ammo with no chance of escape. They knew they weren’t going to make it, so they went out the front door, guns blazing. Narayanan slapped his magazine in the pistol and chambered a round. Whaddaya say... you ready?”

“Do I have a choice...? Okay, you go left and I’ll go right. At least let’s give them a moving target.”

“Maybe we can pick some of them off before they make it to the ship.”

“Narayanan, you’re one crazy son of a bitch, that’s why I like working with you.”

“Yep, I’ve heard that a time or two. On three... One — two —

Just then, automatic weapons fire came from the east.

“Hold it, what’s that?” Logan asked.

“I don’t know — sounds like friendly fire.”

“Well, take a peek.”

“I’m not getting my head shot off!”

“Move over,” Logan grumbled, “A second ago, you were willing to go out there in a blaze of glory, what happened to that idea?”

“That’s when I thought I only had a minute to live.”

Logan grabbed a leafy branch lying on the ground to hide behind and slowly pushed it out into the open just past the tree stump. He peeked around the corner through the opened areas of the branch. He scooted back and said, “Our bacon has been saved, looks as if a Special Forces team is taking out the bad guys.”

Narayanan let out a sigh of relief. “Whew, that was a close one — we almost got to three.” He glanced at the top of the horizontal tree trunk chewed up by enemy fire. “Another five minutes and we wouldn’t have had any cover at all.”

It turned quiet and then they heard a rustling in the bushes. A voice yelled out, “Narayanan — Agent Narayanan.”

“Over here,” Narrie yelled and raised his hand in the air.

A soldier dressed in combat camo peered over the tree trunk.

“Charles Deveron, well tan my hide, how the hell did you get this assignment?” Narrie asked.

“I drew the short straw. What’re you two doing down there?”

“I never kiss-n-tell. This is Logan Pyke.”

Logan sighed. “As Butch would say, howdy partner.”

“Who’s Butch? What’s he talking about?” Deveron asked.

“Oh, nothing, he’s just a little stressed. A fresh pair of underwear will straighten him out.”

“I think both of you are nuts. Get up outta’ there, the ship’s waiting on us.”

They stood and Logan released his magazine, counted the bullets and groaned, “Three... Hmm, my new lucky number.”

Special Forces escorted them out into the clearing. Logan recognized the shuttle make and model to be the Kirlian ship from Darithian Four, stationed at the Toiyabe Base in California.

As Logan and Narrie approached the ramp, Sims placed her hand on her chest appearing relieved they were all right. “Either of you hurt?” Sims asked.

“Only my pride,” Narrie said. “I’ve been trying to make friends with those chameleons forever, and they’re just not having any of it. No matter how nice I am, they still try to kill me. Go figure.”

“It could be your charming personality that grates on them,” Tihbit said with a smile.

“Hey there, Little Bit.”

“Glad to see you’re still in one piece. You two must be the luckiest S.O.B.s on the planet. I mean, wow, thirty-to-two. What kind of odds are they? I wouldn’t have bet any money on you two even if you were armed to the hilt.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Tihbit,” Logan said, sitting on the deck leaning against the wall.

Lorrell and Princess Evik walked over to Logan. He stood to face them even though he had a difficult time getting up from being tired.

“Agent Pyke, you showed extraordinary leadership,” Evik said with a tired smile. “We are very grateful.”

Lorrell extended her hand to hold his, her eyes glowing with gratitude.

Logan bowed with a slight bend of his neck as they turned and walked back to their seats. He sat back on the deck and closed his eyes.

Narayanan sat beside him. “How’re you doing, Butch?”

“Right now, I just want to sit here and guzzle a couple of ice cold beers, Sundance. Hey Sims, would you —”

“Forget it...”

“Aw come on, Sims. Just one ice-cold beer. That’s not too much to ask.”

“What do I look like, a brewery? You guys must think I’m here to be your personal catalog.”

“Have a heart, Sims.”

“The heart has reasons which reason knows not, by Blaise Pascal. Remember, I’m not a biologic yet, so I don’t have a heart, but I’m working on it.”

Logan sighed. “Yes, I remember... I also know you are one stubborn female.”

“When did you go all poetic on us, Sims?” Narrie asked and grinned.

“Humph,” she huffed with her nose elevated a few degrees, rolled her eyes and walked away.

San Francisco

“Jack — Jack, wake up Jack.”

His eyes flew open. “Jeeze, Sims!” He rubbed his scalp, gazing around the room. “What are you doing here? I thought you were still in South America,” he said with a groan,

“We got back late last night. Logan got a phone call from Megan a bit ago. Are you all right?”

“Just recovering from my stupidity.”

“What happened?”

“I decided to go into San Francisco with Megan, and before you lecture me about leaving the house, I’ll admit I did the wrong thing. I needed to get out. Didn’t think it would hurt anything. Anyway, a couple of reptilians working in a store recognized me. I was tailed and chased by two thugs, but I feel confident I lost them.”

“You can never be sure of that.” Sims paced placing her hand on her forehead. “We thought we made it perfectly clear that you were to stay put... that means by no way, shape, or form, leave this house,” she said with emphasis.

“I know — I know, I forgot. My mind was in a fog that day we came here.” Jack sat up and groaned. “Hey, that was a pretty good likeness of a human getting pissed off just now.”

“This is no joke, Jack. The rules were put there for your safety, and by not following procedure, you may have endangered yourself, the woman and her child.”

“You mean Megan and Debbie.”

“Whatever!” Sims paused to collect her emotions and sat beside the bed. “Are you sure they were reptoids?”

“Absolutely, one of the girl’s pupils gave her away. Every time a mirror ball reflected light on her face, I could see the slits in her eyes. Since they failed to kill me in the hospital, I suppose this Vullen character must’ve gotten the word out on me.”

“Yes, it’s called a bounty.”

“I know, I know.” Jack thought for a second. “When I was being chased by those chameleons through the mall, I somehow knew what to do.”

“That’s because you’re an ETS Agent, a trained combat soldier.”

Jack squinched his eyes, “A trained what? You all mentioned something about that before.”

“Yes, ETS and ISF Agents are on par with Navy Seals when it comes to training. Physical and mental acuity must be exceptional. We get extensive instruction in espionage and extraterrestrial physiology and psychology. It’s required that we study most known alien species on Earth and know where they are. We are an inclusive brotherhood; we work together — share resources and watch each other’s back.”

“And I’m all that? Well, it sure will be interesting when I can remember I’m Captain America.”

Sims snickered. “You haven’t lost your weird sense of humor. What did you tell Megan?”

“I lied to her and said someone mugged me.” Jack shook his head and flipped the covers off, sitting up on the edge of the bed. “I need to leave this place. If they find me here, it might turn out bad for Megan and Debbie.”

“That’s another thing. I can’t get used to you being so nice and concerned for other people’s welfare. It’ll be fascinating to see if you return to your old self, an egotistical, self centered, obnoxious, arrogant bastard.”

“Could you be a little more blunt?”

“Ugh, you’re so... incorrigible.”

“But you still love me.”

“Yes, I suppose I have no choice in the matter. Do you have any remembrance of Dustin VanPelt? He was your partner in the ETS until you found him colluding with the Draconian Empire through LeCertis Vullen.”

“You guys have asked me that a thousand times, and my answer remains the same. When I remember something, I’ll tell you,” he grumbled with a scowl.

“Most of the ETs we came in contact with were afraid of Dustin. Logan called him a loose cannon which confounded me for the longest time. I finally understood what he meant after I saw it firsthand. It was around six months ago. You, me, Logan and Dustin went to San Diego to find two Telosians from the planet Telos.”

“Yeah, that figures,” he said with mild impatience.

“Anyway, they marketed a banned herb grown on the planet Citorna Prime. They sell the herb to the reptilians because it enhances their cardiovascular system to process Earth’s recreational drugs. You were the one that discovered the illegal activity when the Citornan Ambassador visited Toiyabe.

“You’re talking about marijuana, cocaine and certain pharmaceuticals that classifies as speed,” Jack said to clarify.

Yes, similar to those. The drug is called clanodine, the herb from Artimasis Two works as a systemic buffer that negates negative effects in them like nausea, lung damage and blindness. We received a tip that a deal was going to take place that night, but we couldn’t find out where. A stoolie told Logan about a member of the Ketiya that —”

“Ketiya?”

“It’s an organized crime syndicate based out of Hong Kong. The Ketiya has consortiums all around the world. They deal in drugs with the ETs, mainly reptilians. Anyway, we found a Ketiya member in a pub downtown San Diego. We took him out back to interrogate him. After an hour, Dustin got tired of Logan’s inability to extract the information, so he beat the crap out of the guy.

“Every time we’d pull him off, he’d get loose and pounce on the man like a mad dog. After he wore the guy out, he got him on the ground, pulled out his pocketknife and threatened to cut off his middle finger. A Ketiya with a missing middle finger is branded as a snitch. They fear that worse than death. The guy sang like a bird, we busted the deal and arrested our two Telosians.”

“The point being?”

“By all that’s holy, are you that dense?” Sims said. “By reciting an experience, I’d hoped it would unlock a mind-response. Even a thin slice of something you might remember could be a positive reaction to bringing some core of your memory to the surface.”

“Nope . . . didn’t work.”

“Well, it was worth a try. After I give you a healing session, I have to get back to Toiyabe. Logan, Narrie and I have to debrief Mr. Fox and General Bradley tomorrow and meet with some scientists.”

Jack groaned as he lay back on the bed.

Sims helped him ease back onto the pillow and covered him with the blanket. She bent over to face him. “Now, what am I going to have to do, put a full-time guard at this door?”

Jack said nothing.

“I need you to promise you won’t leave this house again. You dodged a bullet this time... maybe.”

“What now?” he moaned from being tired.

“I’ll let you know when we can move you.

Twenty-one

The next morning, Logan and Narayanan stopped by the Toiyabe Base cafeteria for coffee. Logan was up late watching the LA Lakers playing the Miami Heat. As he described the game to Narrie, a voice called out from their right while they stirred their cups.

“Look who we have here — if it isn’t the Lone Ranger and Tonto. How nice of you boys to grace us with your presence. What have we done to deserve such an honor?”

Narayanan looked up and grinned. “Well now, if it ain’t Justice Augustus. It’s probably because we’re the two best agents in the bureau.”

“You mean a has-been and a former jail-bird, don’t you? You guys need to retire and let the younger agents breathe some life back into a lack luster investigation department.”

“I wouldn’t let it get around that Mr. Fox’s department is lacking its luster. He might not care for that.” Narayanan chuckled. “Ask yourself this, which agent did General Bradley come to first for the Vullen assignment? — ding, ding, ding... times up and the answer is — Logan Pyke.”

“Logan, I heard you screwed up that visit with the Hadessah oracle in Brazil.”

Logan turned and got in his face. “Tell that to Huntington’s wife... the reptilians tortured him for that information. I suggest you do a little investigative homework before opening that big mouth, boy. But then again, you’re so ill informed, you don’t have a clue what’s going on.”

“You know what, you gossip more than some old lady at a church social,” Narrie said.  How old are you — twenty-four, twenty-five? You act like a fourteen-year-old — you’ve got some catching up to do.”

Augustus walked up to him, his eyes going cold, frowning.

“Can I ask you a question? What kind of woman would name her baby Justice Augustus — though I’ll say one thing about it, it does rhyme.” Narayanan turned to catch up with Logan and mumbled, “What an ass wipe.”

“Narayanan, this conversation isn’t over by a long shot!” Augustus yelled.

He turned and looked at him with a sidelong glance. “It is for me, slick.”

They stopped at the desk of Bradley’s assistant. “Hey Kaitlin, where’s Mr. Fox and General Bradley?” Logan asked.

“Room, 3-B, gentlemen.”

“How’s George these days?” Narrie asked.

Her brow rose. “In retirement and in denial.”

“He’s not a quitter. You tell him since he has so much time on his hands; I want one of his fantastic grilled hamburgers.”

She smiled. “I’ll tell him.”

They made their way into the room and found Sims sitting on the opposite side of the table. Mr. Fox was at the head of the table, Bradley opposite Sims. Two other gentlemen were sitting next to Bradley closest to the door with a woman between them. Fox stood to introduce them. “This is Dr. David Mills: scientist, astrophysicist and astrobiologist. To his left is Professor Annette Berkowitz: theoretical physicist and cosmologist. And to her left is Dr. Bill Pearlman: philosophy, politics and economics. Doctors and Professor, you’ve met Sims. These are ISF agents Logan Pyke and Seetharaman Narayanan.” After shaking hands, they sat.

Fox looked at Logan. “Okay, so what did you find out from the oracle?”

“Priestess Evik projected her vision on the surface of a shallow copper pan of water. What I saw were whole cities without people. I saw dogs, cats, birds and other wild animals . . . but no humans.” He glanced at Sims. “Feel free to add any observations.”

“It was eerie,” Sims said. “There was no destruction. City structures were in pristine condition. The sidewalks and roads were littered. Tall weeds and grass grew from the cracks and between spaces of the concrete. Vehicles were abandoned where they sat. Every city we saw looked like a ghost town.”

“How were the flora and fauna in the forested areas?” Pearlman asked.

“Trees, brush, streams, rivers, and oceans seemed okay,” Logan said. “Homes and farms appeared to be overgrown. In places where you’d expect the grass and weeds should be kept manicured, it was waist high and there were young trees growing everywhere. I saw cattle, goats, fox, wild turkey, and other animals.”

“How tall were the young trees growing next to the roads?” Pearlman asked.

“Oh, about five feet, I guess,” Logan said.

“Did the Priestess give you a time frame when this might occur?” Bradley asked.

“No, she believed the future event occurred between six months to two years before what she saw. She said there will be a lot of pain and suffering.”

Berkowitz gazed at her notes. “It’s not much to go on right now.” She looked up at her colleagues. “Any ideas what might cause such a catastrophe?”

“Anything we could contribute right now would be based on speculation and conjecture,” Mills said. “To surmise, there was no physical destruction to structures... no clear damage to flora and fauna so we have to assume the environment will not be harmed.”

“Judging by the tree growth described, I’d say at least two years had passed after the calamitous act,” Berkowitz said. “And we need to work the problem from the standpoint that a catastrophic event of this magnitude will be planned by only one individual, LeCertis Vullen. That’s a tall order, sir.”

“One that we’d better solve if we want to save this planet,” Fox said.

“Agreed,” said Berkowitz.

Narayanan cleared his throat and looked at Fox. “And we should assume that it would be less desirable to turn the planet into one big cinder since the Draconians will need it in good condition to thrive and survive here.”

“So how do you eliminate nine billion humans without destroying a planet?” Sims asked.

“Archaeologists have debated anthropogenic extinction for years. There are distinct beliefs on both sides of the isle whether it will or will not happen,” Pearlman said. “Since there was no decimation of infrastructure, we need to look at a scenario that doesn’t involve major meteor impacts or thermonuclear annihilation.”

“A global pandemic could cause human extinction if the pathogen is spread worldwide all at once,” Berkowitz said.

“An attack on the world’s electric grid will eradicate ninety percent of the human population and they could achieve it from an orbiting Draconian spacecraft,” Mills said. “An electromagnetic pulse will neutralize an unprotected electric grid. However, in the last ten years, much of the world’s grid has been hardened to protect against a solar EMP occurrence, but we’re still a ways from total protection.”

Pearlman pointed to Centros Seven on a galactic map. “They could set hostile synthetic beings with artificial intelligence loose. That method might be more than enough to overpower the militaries of the world before moving on to eliminating the citizenry. The Draconians have access to such hi-tech means in their own solar system.”

“An all-out Draconis invasion is feasible,” Logan said, “they can count on the chameleons, the nagas, hu-brids, booteans, Rysans and the grays. A coordinated invasion could be workable between LeCertis Vullen and the Draconis High Command.”

“I don’t think so. The Draconian Empire is spread so thin throughout the galaxy now that they’d be too concerned over the survival-to-death ratio,” Bradley said. “Plus, they couldn’t achieve the desired results quick enough before the Alliance would step in.”

“There’s another possibility, something called the Grey Goo,” Berkowitz said. “It’s a scenario where molecular self-replicating nano sized robots consumes all biomass on the planet. I heard someone invented a way to control the rate of replications on the planet Saurus. And, the Grey Goo could be programmed to self-destruct after the deed is done, otherwise no organic life could survive on this world.”

“The problem with that scenario is the survival of non-human biomass... animals, insects and sea life are all thriving,” Logan said.

“I read a report that there are non-specified ETs that have invented programmable nano size machines that will attack certain life forms only. The technology is there, but it’s a question of whether they’re crazy enough to try it,” Mills said.

“It’d be impossible to prepare for any of those scenarios. We don’t even know if Vullen will use one of those options or something we’ve never heard of before,” Bradley said.

“From the looks of what the oracle showed us, it’d have to be coordinated worldwide and quick,” Sims said.

“Has the White House and the Pentagon been informed about this?” Mills asked.

“Yes,” Fox said. “And the president has made the major powers of the world aware of it too.”

“Did the oracle say anything else worth noting?” Berkowitz asked.

Logan thought for a moment and looked at them. “Only that the future is uncertain and there are forces that can change future events to skew it off course. In our eagerness to prevent this looming catastrophe, we may only delay it or make it happen much sooner.

“What’s being done to catch Vullen?” Berkowitz asked.

Fox turned to the wall behind him where a planetary location’s map in the galaxy hung. “The Orion Alliance of Planets, colored blue, is supplying intelligence to locate Vullen. Logan is heading up the primary investigation, and I have the CIA, FBI, NSA and other countries’ secret services in a support role for Logan’s team. Vullen is a Setti of the Black Suns and probably the most slippery bastard we’ve ever run across, especially when he uses that Draconis holographic shape shifting device.”

“The problem is we have to be careful about stepping on each other’s toes,” Logan said. “Five months ago, intel gave me a lead on someone who procured a very large shipment of gold bullion in Kansas City. A company or trading firm I can understand but not one individual alone would buy that much gold. After I traced it through the seller, it ended up being Vullen. A couple of rookies in another department got wind of what was going on and tried to make the bust. Vullen disappeared.”

Fox closed his briefcase with a clap. “I have contacted every appropriate department involved and ordered that they have to filter leads through my office.”

“Any progress to date?” Pearlman asked.

“Nothing definitive... the most promising is an ETS agent we have in hiding that possibly knows the details of Vullen’s plans and when he will carry them out. At the moment, he’s recovering from amnesia,” Logan said.

“He doesn’t remember anything?” Berkowitz asked.

Logan shook his head. “No, he may come out of it just that quick,” he said with a snap of his finger, “or never at all. Either way, we can’t afford to wait. If Vullen finds out where he is, he will kill him. The woman where we are renting the apartment called me when we got back from the Amazon. Against my orders, he left the grounds of a safe-house and went to San Francisco. Chameleons recognized him, chased after him and he was fortunate enough to elude their capture. We’re going to move him when we can find a suitable place. Sims created her version of a GPS tracking device and assimilated it inside his body while he slept. If he disappears, she can locate him within minutes.”

Berkowitz looked at Sims and asked, “How do you assimilate a sensor into flesh and blood without a surgical procedure and how can you get there so fast?”

Sims’ skin shimmered, disseminating into fine particles and from the particulates she turned into a light gray fog where she floated above the tabletop. There they witnessed the outline of an animal taking shape and within the outline the fog filled, solidifying into a black cat with golden eyes. The transformation happened within seconds.

Berkowitz gazed at Sims in astonishment, her mouth hanging open, her eyes widened with disbelief.

Sims enjoyed that reaction from humans who watched her perform her own brand of magic. “Would you care to see my notes, Professor?” She lifted her right paw as it transformed into a tiny human hand, her limb stretching to pick up the folder and then set it down in front of Berkowitz. Within seconds, she transformed back into her human form with a thin-lipped smile growing across her face.

Dr. Mills hissed in awe. “A molecular shape-shifter. Rumors are going around about your kind, but I never believed it... amazing.”

Narayanan leaned over to Sims’ ear and whispered, “You’re just sucking this up like a piece of bread to gravy, aren’t you.”

She nodded and smiled.

Twenty-two

Debbie rolled the single dice on her Junior Monopoly game, moving her plastic red car over the board. “One—two—three. — Chance!” she squealed, reaching for a card.

“Well, don’t keep us in suspense... especially Jack,” Megan said with a chuckle. “You’re slaughtering him.”

“Yeah, don’t keep me hanging; I only have one dollar left to my name.”

“Collect Uncle Penny Bags’ loose change and go to Mini Golf.”

Jack swayed his head backward and moaned, “I just can’t believe her luck.” He smiled at her. “You’re going to lend me some money when I’m broke, right?”

“No,” Debbie giggled. “When you have no more money, you lose.”

Jack shook his head while looking at Megan. “She’s learning early.”

Debbie moved her red car in driving fashion around the board grinning all the way. When she stopped on Mini Golf, she placed a ticket booth on the property and gloated. “This is mine — all mine.” She glanced at him and laughed.

“You greedy little tycoon, you,” he grumbled. “Okay Megan, it’s your turn. Teach her a lesson. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Megan threw the single dice and rolled the number five. She moved her yellow car five blocks and landed on the Ferris Wheel. “This is great, I have always loved Ferris Wheels.” She put a ticket booth building on the property, noticing Debbie was staring at Jack with a smile in her eyes.

Jack caught her looking at him and moaned, “Oh, you’re evil, you just love to see me squirm, don’t you.” He picked up the dice, blew on it and rubbed it between his palms. “Come on, baby. Let’s turn this ship around and start cruising toward the winner’s circle.” Jack let it drop on the board and it rolled almost to the opposite side where Debbie sat.

“One!” Debbie and Megan shouted in unison.

“For Pete’s sake I don’t believe it, this can’t be happening,” Jack said.

“The Candy Shop belongs to me,” Debbie said with an outstretched hand, palm facing up.

Jack resisted, giving her his last dollar, his eyes growing shadowy sad and pleaded, “You realize you’re going to put me out on the street, hungry and penniless.”

“Too bad, Jack.” Debbie smiled.

He looked at Megan with a hardened, astonished expression. “Oh, that’s cold — good game, Deb,” he said after putting his game parts back in the box. “Oh by the way, I have a riddle I heard on the radio.”

“What’s a riddle?”

“A riddle is like a puzzle with words, listen carefully. I have a face like a tree, skin like the sea. A great beast I am yet a vermin can frighten me. What am I?”

Debbie frowned in bewilderment and thought hard for a few moments. She smiled. “I don’t know. What is it?”

“An elephant.”

Deb giggled. “I don’t get it.”

“An elephant has a long nose called a trunk and they are terrified of mice.”

She smacked her forehead with her palm and groaned. “You drive me crazy, Jack!”

“Okay young lady, time for bed.”

“Aw Mom, can’t I stay up a little longer?”

“No, you’ve got school tomorrow. Now go, I’ll put the game away.”

Debbie pouted, climbed off the chair, and stomped the floor in frustration.

“Deborah Lynne, you watch the attitude or you won’t go to Cynthia’s this Saturday. Now, give me a hug and get ready for bed, I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

“Oh, all right,” she whined, kissing and hugging her mom. Debbie walked to Jack giving him a high-five and followed that with a hug. “Goodnight, see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight Deb, sleep tight.” When she disappeared around the corner, he said, “You’re a lucky mom, Debbie is a sweet kid.”

Megan smiled. “She loves you.”

Jack stood. “Can’t remember anyone ever loving me before, but it feels nice. Can’t remember much of anything.”

Megan stared at him with amorous eyes. “I can’t imagine anyone not loving you, Jack. You have so much to offer.”

First, Debbie hugs him, and now Megan hits him right between the eyes with unexpected adoration. Not knowing how to respond, he looked at the floor and then back at her. “Thanks, do you need help cleaning up?”

“Oh no, you look a little fatigued. Why don’t you get some rest. I appreciate you putting up with our silly games.”

“Are you kidding? I enjoyed it . . . uh, but not the part where I get my butt kicked.” Jack chuckled. “I’ve just got to figure out how to win against the master.”

Megan laughed and walked him to the door.

Jack turned. “See you tomorrow.”

Megan hugged him close for a few seconds and moved away. “Goodnight.”

Jack gazed into her eyes and stuttered, “Uh... right. Goodnight.” After she closed the door behind him, he couldn’t help but think how amazing that felt. He stepped off the front porch, strolled through the side gate noticing how bright the full moon was while making his way to his apartment without a flashlight. Jack went straight to the bathroom, washed up, and brushed his teeth.

Joints in his knees and hips ached a little as they do when he sits for prolonged periods. He could barely hold his eyes open, took two ibuprofen and did stretching exercises to loosen up his muscles before climbing into bed. He was about to undress when a blood-curdling scream tore through the HVAC duct in the ceiling above him. It sounded gritty, painful, and seemed as though it was in the same room with him. His heart traveled to his throat and looked up at the duct. “Megan!”

Jack ran out the door, jumped the gate, rushed up the front porch and turned the doorknob. It was locked. Without pause, he rammed his elbow through the corner glass pane, reached in, and unlocked the door. After pushing his way in, he heard sobbing upstairs. “Megan!”

“Jack, help!”

He rushed up the steps and into the hall where he found Megan standing halfway in Debbie’s bedroom door, sobbing, both hands covering her nose and mouth, horror etched in her eyes. “What’s the matter?” When he approached her, she threw herself into his arms and wept. “My baby.” Jack looked in the room where a daunting figure stood behind Debbie, his massive hand wrapped around her little neck. It felt as though the air had been sucked out of the room.

“One move and I’ll snap it in half,” the intruder said in a deep, throaty growl. He spoke with a thick accent and with imprecise English articulation.

“Jack, don’t let him hurt my baby, please,” Megan cried in a soft moan.

“For Debbie’s sake, try to get hold of yourself,” he whispered. Jack rubbed her back, released her, and turned to face the foreboding intruder. He appeared big boned, muscular at six foot three inches, dressed in a red, black, and dark gray uniform with black boots halfway up to his knees. A full-headed black mask hid his face shaped to the likeness of the creatures in his nightmares. “What do you want?”

“I came for you,” the intruder said.

“Oh, so that’s it, you came to finish what your goons couldn’t carry out in the hospital or in San Francisco. Okay, get it over with, I won’t put up a fight, but let the woman and her child leave unharmed. They know nothing.” Jack glanced at Debbie, her expression neutral, her eyes in a trance-like state appearing unaware of what was going on around her.

“Jack?” Megan called out in a soft tone, confused over that statement.

“Is that what they’re calling you?” The intruder hissed like a serpent. “They have deceived you, brother.”

The line between Jack’s eyebrows furrowed deeper, expressing bewilderment. “What in hell are you talking about, and what do you mean by calling me brother?”

“I am LeCertis Vullen and you are Drezdon Vullen, we are brothers under the Vullen name. When you first came to Draconia at the age of nine, the Dracs couldn’t pronounce Dustin, so they called you Drezdon. Reptilians captured both of us as children and Lortan Vullen, the master of the Vullen clan, took us in. Lortan gave us his name, raised us as his own and taught us the ways of Draconis.”

“You’re lying! I’m Jack McMasters, ETS agent. Dustin VanPelt and I got into a firefight. We shot each other. I survived.”

“Yes, that’s what Logan Pyke wants you to believe but you are not Jack... I will say it again, your earthen name is Dustin VanPelt and you killed Jack in the cryogenics lab at the Toiyabe Base.  A drug given to you in the hospital has fragmented your memory.

“So... so you are human?”

“Yes, human, but only in body — my heart and soul belongs to Draconia.”

He rubbed the back of his neck to release the tension. “I can’t believe this...”

“Dig deep, Drezdon, and the truth shall set you free.”

“No—no, this can’t be.” He squeezed his eyes shut and grasped his head with both hands as if it was about to explode. Flashes of past images filtered through the void of lost memories. Logan said that my memories were false implants. He convinced me that I am Jack McMasters, but why the elaborate deception? His eyes burst open in remembrance. Yes — yes, I can almost see it... it’s vague... foggy, something about Vullen’s mission. The operation has to do with mass killing, but how.

He could now sense a connection with Vullen, and his immediate instinct superseded his emotions to learn the facts about this situation. If even the slightest truth of what he knows about Vullen’s mission were to be revealed now, it might get them all killed. The mother of all headache pain struck him like a hammer crushing his skull. He went to one knee, his eyes squinting, gnashing his teeth and screamed to the ceiling.

“Jack!” Megan shouted and hurried toward him.

He forced a hand toward her and growled, “Stay back!”

Tears streamed down her face and she pleaded, “Jack, save my baby, please don’t let her die.”

Dustin stood, his eyes growing dark, fighting the pain that had filtered through his whole body. He glared at Vullen, his voice carrying the strength of wind and sand. “If I am who you say I am, then you will release the child and let them leave now!”

After a few moments of silence, Vullen made a growling noise deep in his throat and released the child. Debbie fell to the floor, limp and motionless.

“Jack?” Megan whispered, taking a step toward her daughter, unsure if Debbie would be harmed if she tried to get her.

Dustin walked next to the child and stared into the unveiled eyes through Vullen’s mask. “Megan, get Debbie out of here.”

She rushed to her child, picked her up and left.

“I did as you asked. Now, come with me, brother, so that we can complete our mission together,” Vullen said.

“You tried to have me killed. Give me one reason to trust you?”

“A chameleon undercover agent working in the VA hospital read the EMT report that identified you as Jack McMasters. Jack knew too much and needed to be silenced.”

“You’re lying. At the mall in San Francisco, chameleons tried to kill me.”

“I left explicit orders that you were not to be harmed. With the extent of your injuries, I was sure your memory hadn’t returned. You would have never come of your own free will. The chameleons were attempting to capture you.”

“When my memories do return, why would Logan think that I would give up that information? If I am a double agent, he would have to assume that I would be loyal to the Draconis Empire.”

“Residuals from a neuralizer absorbed by the body that close in proximity wears off over a long time. The first thing you will begin to remember is the last thing you were doing before getting shot. Jack McMasters overheard us discussing the secret operation. Jack found classified documents that you were careless in handling. He was ready to expose my mission.”

Dustin squeezed his eyes shut from his head throbbing. He rubbed his temples. “I sense nothing about a cryogenics lab or being shot.” Remembrances were coming back in rapid fire but he dared not let on that it was happening; he had no choice but to lie or he might die.

“Logan is counting on you to remember only what was most important to you at the time of your injury. It wasn’t Jack’s intrusion or the firefight, but it’s the mission you will remember first. All those other incidentals will return in time.

“So, this was all a ruse . . . a setup to make me believe I was Jack so when I recalled the Draconian mission, Logan banked on my loyalties leaning toward Earth.” His eyes opened wide and stared at Vullen. “You left me in cryogenics to get caught and jailed, why?”

“I had already left when I heard the commotion and I came back. I found you on the floor across from Jack and you were dead, I verified that. The EMTs must have revived you when they arrived. You had just passed along intelligence reports to me that was crucial to the success of the operation. I had to leave quickly before security got there. I couldn’t afford to be caught.”

Dustin stared at the floor, his gaze going distant. “So, they were able to revive me.”

“If you hadn’t been so derelict in protecting secret information, Jack would’ve never discovered the plans to take back Earth for the Empire. Now, you’re coming with me.”

“I have things to work out in my head, first. I must remember —”

“There’s no time for that. Logan Pyke is closing in on me, and our mission is in danger of failing.”

“What if I am Jack? You may be trying to find out how much I know... and if I’ve said anything to Logan. At this point, I can’t tell who’s telling the truth. Until I can get it straight in my head, I need to think this through.” He turned and started to leave.

“I can’t let you do that!”

Vullen held a strange weapon and pointed it at him as he twisted around. “I should kill you where you stand, but you are right, I need to know how much the ISF has found out.”

A small table lamp next to an easy chair was only a few feet away. “You come here terrorizing people I care for, call me brother, and threaten me with a weapon. And you expect me to trust you?”

“I expect you to obey my orders.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then I will kill you. I’m tired of your arrogance; you are always tripping over that inflated ego of yours. This mission is bigger than the both of us... this is what we were trained for... what we live for.”

“I’m not going to make this easy for you.” He grabbed the lamp, pulling the chord from the socket and threw it, knocking the weapon out of Vullen’s hand. He picked up the lamp table, ran toward the window, crashed through it, landing on the roof  of the porch. Vullen rushed toward the window as he rolled over the edge, falling into the bushes below, got to his feet and disappeared into the darkness.

Twenty-three

Logan made his way to Megan’s front door, followed by Sims and Narayanan. He rang the doorbell and heard footsteps approaching from the other side. When it opened, Megan was unrecognizable, her face sagging, her eyes filled with ire.

“We got here as quickly as we could —”

“Damn you!” she growled, slapping him across the face. “How dare you put my daughter’s life in danger!”

Logan’s eyes drifted to the porch deck, accepting punishment delivered by a frightened, upset mother. He waited for a second round when Sims stepped alongside him. “Mrs. Jeffries, we’re sorry for what happened. We know how you feel and if —”

Megan pointed her finger in Sims’ face. “You have no idea how I feel. My baby almost died last night and you are responsible.” She heaved deep breaths, gazing back at Logan who solemnly made eye contact with her. “I opened up our home to you in good faith and with trust, and then that — that monster shows up and...” Megan turned her back to them, hunched over, sobbing in her hands.

Logan glanced at Sims and nodded.

Sims placed her arm around Megan’s shoulder and spoke in a soft tone, “Come inside and let’s get you seated.” She guided her through the doorway and into the living room where Megan sat in an easy-chair, her cheeks heated to a cherry red, her eyes swollen, appearing faint.

“I’ll make you some warm tea,” Sims said and nodded for Narayanan to follow her so Logan could talk.

Logan sat on the couch across from her, giving her time to collect herself.

After a few minutes, she raised her head and gazed at him in bewilderment. “Why us? What did we do to deserve this?”

“Megan, first, let me say that I’m so relieved that you and Debbie are all right. I am sorry for what happened. Please, allow me to explain.”

“Yes, I demand it — explain it to me.”

“I understand how upset you are, but I need you to calm down and focus on what I’m about to tell you.”

Sims returned with a cup of warm tea and set the cup and saucer on the coffee table. Megan glanced at her with a halfhearted ‘thank you’ and grasped it placing it to her lips. The cup quivered in her hand as she sipped the warm brew. Sims sat next to Logan and Narayanan pulled up a chair between the couch and easy chair.

“Remember when we first came here, I said that it was important for Jack to stay put so that he could heal,” Logan said. “What happened last night was the main reason for me saying that, but I couldn’t tell you the real reason because you would’ve refused the room. We needed your room and your help badly.”

Megan pulled a tissue out of the dispenser to wipe her tears. “So, I suppose you’re going to tell me that being aircraft engineers was a lie too.”

“Yes, and we’re not from Indianapolis either. That was just a front to help us maintain an illusion of normalcy, a façade if you will.”

“An illusion?” Megan took another sip of tea and gazed at Logan with a puzzled expression. “That’s a pretty elaborate front... what kind of façade?”

“We’re with a secret organization that investigates extraterrestrial life forms that come here intending to do Earth harm... or to carry out other forms of criminal activity. Sims and I are from another planet, Narayanan is from Earth.”

Megan shook her head in disbelief, her eyes growing blank, her mouth agape. The cup of tea slipped from her hand and crashed against the floor. She watched in shock as Sims’ arm and hand stretched like rubber toward the cup in a supple motion, picked up the pieces of broken china, and placed them on top of the table. Her eyes rolled to the top of her head, eyelids fluttering and fell over onto the armrest.

“Damn it, why did you do that? Now you made her faint.” Logan frowned at Sims and jumped up to move her onto the couch. “Go get her a cool damp rag and a glass of water.”

Sims turned to head for the kitchen and groaned. “I could tell by the look in her eyes she was thinking we were a bunch of kooks. I figured I’d save us some wasted time and a load of crap.”

Narayanan helped him move Megan and slipped a pillow under her head, watching Sims disappear into the kitchen. “Impatient wench isn’t she. I think Sims has been around humans too long.”

“Why do you say that?” Logan said, feeling Megan’s forehead.

“She’s getting just as cynical as the rest of us low-life’s.”

Logan chuckled. “You’re probably right.”

Sims returned with the cold rag and water. “You two — move it,” she ordered with an attitude and sat on the couch next to Megan, patting her cheeks.

Megan moaned as she became responsive.

“Have some water,” Sims said, helping her sit up on the couch.

After a few sips, Megan’s eyes flashed open and pushed away. She slipped over the back of the couch with considerable haste after realizing what she just witnessed Sims do. She backed into the window to put some distance between them. “Keep her away from me . . . she’s not normal!”

Sims placed a hand on her hip and grumbled, “Oh, that’s rich.”

“If we meant to harm you or Debbie, we would’ve done it long before now,” Logan said.

“Well, that may be, but this is a bit much to take in,” Megan said in a nervous tone, moving into the open doorway leading to the foyer. “Where did that lady disappear to? She was there a second ago.”  A rustling sound came from behind her.

“I’m right here, honey.”

Megan twisted around to see a four hundred pound black African gorilla breathing down her neck. “Oh!” she screamed and rushed to hide behind Logan. She panted with her hands over her eyes, feeling something scratching at her foot and heard a high pitch yap. With haste, she opened them to find a black and brown puppy looking up at her with smiling big brown eyes. Megan let out a sigh of relief and placed a hand on her forehead. “Oh my god, what’s going on here?”

“Let‘s all calm down and have a rational discussion over this at the kitchen table,” Logan said.

When they filed into the kitchen, there sat Sims, waiting.

“Whoa!” Megan yelped and backed away.

Logan grabbed her arm. “If you don’t sit down, I’m going to call that gorilla back to force you to sit. Do I make myself clear?”

With hesitancy, she sat across from Sims.

Logan gazed at Megan with an expression of assurance. “I think what we need is a proper introduction.” Logan glanced at Sims. “Let’s start with you.”

She offered her a warm smile. “Megan, my name is Simjase’akiza. Please call me Sims, all my friends do. I’m from a world called Exscenchia.” She allowed Megan a few seconds to grasp her introduction. “Your world is beautiful and rich, exploding with life. I love it here. We are here to help keep Earth safe from beasts like the one that threatened your daughter.

“Yes, we are from distant worlds but we are benevolent. Humans only hear about beings like us from science fiction novels and movies. It would amaze you how many worlds in the galaxy has intelligent, sentient life forms. They’re in the millions across the galaxy. The main thing that separates us from you is that we are much more technically advanced. I hope we can be friends.”

Megan took a couple of deep breaths to relax and to absorb what they just threw at her. “Glad to meet you, Sims. I apologize for my behavior. With all the stress, I’ve just been a bundle of nerves. We humans often fear those things we don’t understand and getting exposed to this situation is extraordinary and very surreal. Give me some time to grasp it.” Megan gazed at Sims. “May I ask you something?”

“You may.”

“Those things you do. Is it magic... or some other kind of illusion?”

“First, allow me to apologize. I’m sorry for frightening you. Sometimes, I tend be a little impulsive toward the theatrical.”

“Apology accepted, Sims,” Megan said.

“I’m a molecular shape-shifter. My natural state-of-being is gaseous. I can manipulate my atoms and molecules to replicate anything biological. My consciousness can be interdimensional or on an earthly plane. It affords me the luxury to experience so many worlds without having to use artificial means to keep me alive. And again, I want to assure you, Megan, we are here to serve. It would devastate me to see anything bad happen to this planet and its inhabitants.” Sims glanced at Narayanan and nodded.

“I’m Seetharaman Narayanan and unlike these characters, I’m a bona fide human, born and raised right here on planet Earth. My father is from India, my mother from England. I’m a naturalized citizen of the U.S. of A. and served in the Marine Corps. Before joining up with this organization, I was with the British Alien Activity Investigation, MI6 and the British Ministry of Defense.” Narrie looked at Logan. “You’re up, Chief.”

“Megan, my real name is Ahkatu Ersoma  from a planet in the Taygeta solar system in the Pleiades constellation. My world is called Erra and it’s very similar to Earth. As you can see, we are very equal in appearance with your species. Human lineage here on Earth can be traced back thousands of years ago when the Pleiadians visited the continent you call Europe. We helped them evolve, taught them how to write and gave them skill-sets. We are part of a group of human inhabited planets that are committed to keeping Earth safe from aggressors who hate humans and wish to see them annihilated. One such species is the Draconian, a reptilian race resembling that of a humanoid.”

Megan frowned, thinking back. “That awful creature that threatened Debbie’s life mentioned he and Jack were raised by a Draconian and something about a mission. He also called him brother. What does it mean?”

“That awful creature, as you put it, is the reason we hid Jack here,” Logan said. “He’s a Draconian named LeCertis Vullen and he intends to do harm this planet. Jack is the focal point for a dilemma we find ourselves investigating. Only he’s not Jack McMasters, he is a double agent for Draconis. Dustin VanPelt is his American name. His Drac name is Drezdon Vullen captured by a Drac patrol when he was a child and raised on Draconia.”

Megan gazed at Logan, her eyes growing gray with concern. She placed a hand over her mouth, stood and paced in front of the table. “No, I can’t accept he could be involved in such a reprehensible conspiracy to harm us. He’s kind and gentle —

“And very dangerous,” Narayanan said.

“But, the times I spent with him on his healing sessions, he had fond remarks for Megan and the little girl,” Sims said. “He even begged me to make the child a bicycle. It didn’t seem like Dustin at all.”

Megan gasped. “So you’re the one.” She turned to face Logan. “Jack, uh Dustin, saved my baby’s life; does that sound like an enemy to humanity?”

“He’s a man without memories of his past,” Narayanan said. “What do you think will happen when he wakes up and the fog clears? Could he forsake his Draconian legacy, abandon the family that cared for him most of his life? Is it feasible that he’ll turn his back on an ideology and a world that he pledged his loyalty and faith? I grant you, anything is possible, but we’ll have to wait and see.”

Sims thought for a moment. “But there’s a difference between LeCertis and Dustin. They kidnapped LeCertis while in infancy. He has no recollection of being on Earth with connections to relatives and friends. Dustin was a young boy who can remember his parents, his home, and he knew his own name when the Dracs captured him. It’s possible he may choose reinstitution over returning to the Draconian way of life.” Sims glanced at Megan. “She and Debbie may’ve given him the impetus to do so.”

“Then why would you place someone so dangerous in our home?” Megan asked, looking at Logan.

“We would have pulled him out the second he started to remember something.”

Megan sighed. “I just can’t believe he is this evil creature. He saved my baby. It’s worth giving him the benefit of doubt. All I know is that he’ll always be Jack to us. Debbie worships the ground he walks on.”

“How about you, Mrs. Jeffries, do you love him?” Sims asked.

“Yes — no... I don’t know.”

“You sure sound like a woman that cares,” Sims said.

“Yes, I suppose so... I do miss him. After losing my husband, there was so much pain and sadness in this house. Caring for Jack allowed us to find purpose again and I must admit I’m very worried for him, afraid he will get hurt.” Megan shook her head. “It’s all so complicated.”

“This is a complex situation for both of us,” Logan said. “The planet is at risk and because of his injuries, Dustin has no clue what Vullen’s plan is. We had to make him believe he was Jack McMasters, a loyal human. That way, we might have found out enough to stop Vullen before he launched the attack.”

“But what if he regained his memory and his purpose?” Megan wondered aloud.

“The doctors said that because of how he was hurt, he might recall his experiences before he remembers his true identity,” Sims said.

“That’s why it was important to keep Dustin isolated from the outside world,” Narrie said.

Logan rubbed his temples. “We’re no closer to finding out what we’re up against than when we started.”

Megan exhaled. “Oh dear...”

Twenty-four

Los Angeles

Two days later: Sims materialized in an alley next to the Union Rescue Mission building on San Pedro Street near the intersection of 6th Street in Skid Row. She transformed her attire into jeans with unraveling tears in the knees and well worn-discolorations in the seat and thighs.

A battered pair of tennis shoes had some separation at the soles and laced with white nylon shoestrings. As an added effect, she created a stained blue plaid shirt, and a black baseball cap with ‘Jim’s Auto Repair’ embroidered on the face. The last bit of detail involved replacing her beautiful, healthy complexion with a more pallid, soiled look.

To her left, she studied a homeless encampment that used camping tents, bed sheets, tarps, cardboard and even a sheet of plywood leaning against a wall to shelter some destitute person. She heard a voice call out from behind.

“Hey lady.”

Sims turned to see a middle-aged man on the ground, his back leaning against a brick wall, half-covered with a torn sleeping bag. A long scraggly salt and pepper beard flowed over his chest, his eyes encircled with dark discolored skin, his teeth chalky and yellow. He grinned with twisted lips as he gazed up at her.

“Yes,” she answered in a nonchalant manner.

“Are you a witch?” he asked with an inebriated slur.

“A witch?” she questioned, and then realized he witnessed her sudden appearance, followed by the mysterious change of clothing. “I am Simjase’akiza.”

“Who?”

“Call me Sims.” She knelt to study him for a second exposing her charming smile. “What’s your name, sir?”

“Sir? Nobody’s called me that for so long, I can’t even remember. I’m Harry Putnam, at your service, ma’am. Can you spare a few dollars?”

Sims glanced at the half-empty bottle of whiskey tucked under his armpit. “Why do you harm yourself this way?”

Putnam’s eyes cast downward. “I don’t know.”

“Come on, Harry, we’re friends now, you can tell me.”

His eyes went distant and thought for a second. “I lost my wonderful wife to cancer five years ago... that’s when I became dysfunctional and quit my job. After that they took my house, my car, my possessions. The kids won’t talk to me anymore . . . I can’t much blame them — they don’t care whether I live or die. Since we are friends now, Sims, I could sure use a few dollars?”

“What for, that?” she said, looking at the amber colored bottle. “Harry, you’ll never be able to breathe fresh air by drowning yourself at the bottom of a bottle. There’s an old saying: what you’ve lost in the fire, you can find in the ashes.” Sims stood, staring at him. “On your feet, Harry.”

Putnam rolled over onto his knees and wobbled while standing to face her, his hands trembled and took a swig of the stout liquid. He embraced the bottle with a tight grasp in both hands. “This will only last me til’ mornin’, ma’am.” Harry whimpered, “I don’t think I can make it through the day without it.”

“I see syringes and needles lying around. Are you shooting up with drugs?”

His eyes went downcast. “No, I don’t have the connections. I’m lucky to get a bottle once a day.”

“Look at me, Harry. Concentrate on what I’m about to say. Where I come from, I’m a healer. I can help you, but you must want it. How badly do you want it, Harry?”

His eyes filled with tears and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. “More than anything I want to live again — to see my kids, but I don’t know how. I don’t have the strength.”

Sims gazed at the bottle in his hands. “Drop it, Harry. Let it shatter against the concrete.”

Uncertainty and fear flared in his eyes. “I can’t do that. Please, don’t ask me to do that, I’ll get bad sick.”

“Do it or I’ll walk, and you’ll rot in this God forsaken place for the rest of your days.”

He trembled, loosening his grasp on the bottle. It slipped from his hands and crashed hard against the ground, liquor splattering wetness over his shoes and pant legs. Putnam gasped, looking down in horror at what he had just done.

“Close your eyes.” Sims laid her palm against his cheek. The ends of her fingertips turned a warm fleshy pink that glowed against the dim light from the setting sun. Don’t be alarmed, I’m talking to you telepathically. Your mind will ignore the toxic effects of your alcohol addiction. You will no longer be enslaved by it. It will no longer control you. You now have free will. Your body is telling you that it wants wholesome nutrition and plenty of exercise. I have deposited gold tokens in your pocket. Find a place to live, clean up, get a job and go see your children. This is the first day for the rest of your life, Harry. Choices have consequences so choose wisely, my friend. When you open your eyes, I will be gone.

Putnam opened his eyelids just enough to peek around. As promised, she was nowhere to be seen. A smile grew on his face, patting his chest and arms thinking how he hadn’t felt so good in years. When he patted his pant legs, he found something heavy in his right pocket. He reached in and pulled out ten gold bullions. Putnam couldn’t believe he had just been given a second chance by a guardian angel.

He gazed around the dim alleyway encampment, and whispered, “Thanks, Sims. I promise I’ll do you proud.” Bright lights from San Pedro Street beckoned him to run to it, to put behind a way of living in Skid Row that decimated his life. “I’m starving for a thick juicy steak and beer.” Putnam stopped and shook his finger. “No, no, make that a thick juicy steak and Coke.” His cheerful laughter echoed off the brick walls as he walked away.

Sims turned the corner of 6th Street and met another group of people living out of shopping carts. She strolled past them for a block, turned right on San Julian Street and came upon an eighteen by fifty-foot wall-mural that read: ‘Skid Row City Limits, Population – Too Many.’ The term ‘skid row’ was an old logger’s saying for people living on the skids. They transported logs to a river by sliding them along roads on greased skids. As with Harry, this place was home to people without assets and a future that coalesced in the depressed area of the city.

After walking another half a block, she turned into a dark alley. Two dumpsters on her left shadowed a man sitting on the ground next to them, leaning against the wall. Sims stopped in front of him.

He glanced up at her and back to the ground, appearing preoccupied in thought. “Sorry lady, but if you’re looking for a handout, I’m in as bad a shape as you are.”

“If you are, then you should be ashamed, Jack.”

His eyes flashed, looking up at her. “How did you know I...”

Sims changed from her Skid Row persona to the human ISF agent.

“I should’ve known. How in hell did you find me for Christ’s sake?”

“During our healing sessions at Megan’s, I infused a homing sensor into your body. I did it so that I could return to your apartment at Megan’s house more efficiently. However, I did miss you by a block and a half coming here. Sitting there sulking yourself silly in the middle of a dark alley is apparently what caused my miscalculation.”

“Just what do you mean by that? What do you want?”

“The question should be what do you want, Jack?”

He stood, a blazing glare shooting her from his eyes. “You mean Dustin VanPelt, don’t you?”

Sims’ eyes widened in delight. “Your memory, it’s come back. Dustin, we had to —”

He slammed the butt of his fist hard onto the metal skin of the dumpster making it resound with a loud hollow thump. “You lied to me and made me believe I was someone else! The Dracs taught me to hate humans... to hate who I am. All my life, it was drummed into my head that the Draconian way was pure and noble, and that humans were bugs. Now, I hate myself all over again.”

“How much do you remember?”

“Enough.” Dustin sighed and leaned against the wall, sliding down into a seated position, holding his head in his hands. “How are Megan and Debbie?”

“They’re doing well. How are you doing?”

“Confused — torn.”

“Torn how?”

Dustin raised his head, staring at her. “Does it need explaining? Isn’t it obvious?”

“Mmm, no not necessarily, explain it to me anyway.”

“I’m torn between being Draconian and human. My childhood memories on Earth are like dim shadows dancing on a wall. I can remember some things but most of it is in a fog.”

“That’s good, Dustin.”

“What’s good about it, I see no good in it at all.”

“Well, at least you have something you can grasp hold of. Even if they are just a few scattered memories of your mother and father, you know what their names were, and what kind of parents they were. It’s a piece of heritage that belongs to you. The Dracs could’ve captured you when you were an infant. You could’ve lived with no memories at all of your past life on Earth. What you have is not much, but it is something.”

“I guess I can’t argue with that. They kidnapped LeCertis as a baby when my Drac father took him in. When we were growing up, LeCertis told me how he hated being human. And so many times I tried to tell him that he was human, but he didn’t want to accept that.”

Sims’ gasped. “Are you saying that behind that mask and body armor is a human from Earth?”

“Yeah, he wanted so much to be a Drac and to look Draconian. When he was seven, my Drac mother told me he pleaded with Father to make him Draconian. Father could see the pain in LeCertis so he had his face and head surgically altered. But that wasn’t enough, he had to have shots once a month and wore a conforming appliance through his formative years.”

“An appliance?”

“Doctors strapped a full-helmeted mask onto his head to help shape his face and head while he was still an adolescent. It must have been painful. I could hear him crying from his bed at night, but he refused to take it off. LeCertis felt he was too ugly and didn’t fit in with Draconian society. Kids tormented him and bullied him even more after he started the process, first for being human, and then for wanting to look Draconian. But what it did was turn him into a freak... it devastated him, fed vengeful anger into him. This drove him into a dark place where negative emotions festered.

“A few years later, he learned the Knights of the Black Suns had an opening for knighthood. Father had connections and found a teacher that took him under his wing and taught him the ways of the Black Suns. LeCertis figured since he hated looking human, and he would never be tolerated as an altered Drac, he applied to become a KBS agent. Once he passed the Karpek Daeju, he never had to worry about being accepted anywhere else, and he never allowed anyone to scorn or bully him again.

“So, since he doesn’t consider himself a human or a Draconian, he wears the mask as a semblance that personifies his egoism. The helmeted mask he wears today is just an elaborate version of the one he grew into, one that he feels most comfortable — the shape of a Draconian face. He’s become more powerful than any knight in Black Suns’ history. Since becoming a Setti, that mask is no longer used for covering his deformity and scars. It’s used as a symbol to throw fear into the hearts of his enemies. You cannot kill a symbol... only flesh and blood, and that makes him infinitely more dangerous.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“Before the injury, you were brash, arrogant... a bully. How are you now?”

He gazed up into the clear starlit sky and sighed. “I’m not that guy anymore, I never really was. It was a pretense to something I never wanted to be, but was forced to be... mean and evil.” His stare fell to her eyes. “I just want to live in peace in a place where there is clean crisp air, unpolluted streams that cuts through majestic mountains with plenty of green.”

“How did you ever endure Draconis?”

“I was nine when I was taken away from my parents. I spent four years getting acclimated to my new way of life. When I turned thirteen, I was more of a pet than a family member. LeCertis was much older than me and even he dissed me. We were brothers under the Vullen name only and most Draconian kids hated me, so I got my ass kicked every other day.

“I got so tired of it that I fought back tooth and nail. They beat me so hard once I almost died. The strange thing was I hoped I would’ve died. It took a long time, but I became acknowledged by the family tribe. That gave me a level of respect and protection that I didn’t have before. After LeCertis became a knight, I wanted so much to be like him, but deep down, I knew I never could.”

“Where do you stand, now? Are you with us or against us, Dustin?”

“That’s the damnable part with this whole thing. Before I was injured, there was no question where my loyalties lay. But now, I’m stuck between two worlds. My Draconian parents were kind to me and I don’t want to hurt them. On the other hand, LeCertis and I were never like brothers. He proved that by leaving me behind at the cryogenics lab and for putting a bounty on my head. Then I became involved in the lives of two amazing people that cared about me,” he gazed at her, “really cared. It’s something I never experienced since being captured by the Dracs. You can’t imagine the torturous loneliness I went through on Draconis. Now that I have that to compare it to, I realize how much I really missed being here.”

“You mean being a part of the human race?”

“Yes, things are coming back to me, experiences I remember like camping, fishing, going to the zoo and the amusement park. I had a secure, happy home and if it’s ever possible, I want to give Debbie that. My memories were the only thing that kept me from going insane for a time after I was taken to Draconis.”

“Let me fill you in on what I learned about the Toiyabe Cryogenics investigation,” Sims said, leaning against the brick wall across from him. “That night in the lab, Jack shot you with his weapon set on neuralizer. As you were falling to the floor, you shot a particle beam at him but missed and hit an oxygen tank. It exploded flaming heat over you and Jack which explains the burns over a large part of your bodies. Vullen simultaneously shot Jack in the chest, killing him and somehow managed to avoid the flames from the explosion.

“Jack must’ve had enough awareness before he died to press his alarm on the side of his belt. It alerted security to the lab. Vullen was gone before they got there. This is where it gets interesting. The Toiyabe security police discovered that the human EMTs that took you and Jack to the hospital were reptilian sympathizers. The reptilians paid them quite a handsome fee in gold and silver for jobs that came up from time to time.

“After intense interrogations and threats of life imprisonment, the EMT’s admitted they revived you from death. One of the EMTs found video from Jack’s HUD camera in his utility belt. It revealed the conversation Jack had with you and that you were a Drac spy. They switched IDs and uniforms between you and Jack during the ride to the hospital. As LeCertis’ brother, they figured to buy some time in giving you Jack’s identity until Vullen could figure out how to extract you.

“Chandler, a chameleon spy, was the nurse in charge when you were admitted. The EMT’s relayed how they stabilized your condition. She gave you a dose of a programmable neural toxin injected into the top back part of your neck just above the hairline where it’s undetectable. It’s called asethbatol. A Bootean reptilian scientists invented it for the Black Suns. It masks their secrets with fake memories until it wears off. If an agent were to be captured by an enemy, they had to inject themselves in the neck with this toxin. Between Jack’s neuralizer and the toxin, it’s a wonder you have a brain left.”

“So, that’s what happened to me.”

“Nurse Chandler also thought she would be helping Vullen by administering the toxin so you couldn’t remember the intelligence and spill your guts under interrogation. But when she reported it to him, he ordered your termination.”

He mused.  “So, that’s why she tried to kill me.”

“The important thing to think about is you have a life and a future to fulfill here on Earth.”

“Megan and Debbie turned my hate for humans around, though I still have some self-esteem issues to work through. The minute I laid eyes on Megan, in my heart and soul, I knew we had a past... a past filled with love and companionship. Logan explained if I felt an instant attachment to someone, the generic implant filled in the blanks by merging that face or that experience into my temporary memories. It became real to me.” He gazed at Sims and grinned. “Even you could’ve been the love of my life.”

Her eyes went to the top of her head and moaned. “Oh joy, the thought of it.”

“Now I have nothing here or on Draconis.”

“Look, I think you still have a home.”

“The hell you say. Why?”

“You feel comfortable around Megan and Debbie, don’t you?”

“Yes, I love them.”

“They feel the same... you all belong together.”

“I placed them in grave danger. I wasn’t even sure I could save Debbie’s life. LeCertis was ready to snap her tiny neck. That was the most frightened I’ve ever been in my life. I’m sure Megan wants nothing more to do with me after that.”

“Megan doesn’t blame you, she blamed us. We talked it out and everything is okay now. I can say with all certainty, you’re not the same man you were before the injury. The Dustin I knew was angry, impatient, impetuous, and arrogant. The one I see before me is a kinder, gentler soul. Maybe this version was always there. It just needed a little nudge from someone like Megan and Debbie to bring it out.”

“It would be awesome to go back to them, but I’m not sure Megan wants me back.”

“I think she does. She’s just more cautious after LeCertis threatened her child, and who could blame her. And, I think she feels a bit guilty over having any feelings for another man after the short time it’s been since she lost her husband. Megan needs understanding and time to heal. When we were talking, she never came right out and said it, but as a female, my intuition sensed she has strong feelings for you.”

He looked her in the eyes, whispering, “If that were only true.”

“It is, but I don’t mean to drag you away from all this mushy stuff. As a female, I enjoy this sort of thing, but we have a real problem on our hands. If we don’t uncover some credible intelligence on Vullen soon, there may not be a world for Debbie to grow up in.”

Dustin’s eyes grew wide with dread and groaned, “Oh my God, that’s right . . . the mission.”

“We need to find out what you know. Are you with us, Dustin? This is your chance to redeem yourself.”

“We’ve got to get back to HQ ASAP. I’ll fill you in on the way.”

Sims smiled. “Let’s go.”

Twenty-five

Mr. Fox called an emergency meeting at the Toiyabe base in California. He entered the room carrying his briefcase, nodded at General Bradley and walked toward the head of the table. “Everyone, please take your seats.” He set his briefcase on the floor by the leg of the table and sat.

“All of you were introduced at the last meeting except for Sergeant Dustin VanPelt.” He gestured with his hand facing the right. “Dustin, this is Dr. David Mills, Professor Annette Berkowitz and Dr. Bill Pearlman. Time is of the essence so we’ll skip everyone’s bio and get down to business. Dustin has crucial information on the specifics of Vullen’s mission. Sergeant, tell us what you know.”

“Yes sir, a little history first. Eight thousand years ago, the Draconian Empire claimed Earth as a way-station to several level-four inhabited planets about thirty thousand light years from here. In those times, Earth was primitive with no ability to protect itself against extraterrestrial occupation.

“Back then, the Orion Alliance of Planets committed itself to protect the sovereignty of Earth. War broke out between the OAP and Draconis and their reptilian allies. The OAP defeated Draconis, and the Dracs never returned to this quadrant of the galaxy until around three hundred years ago. Once again, the Empire wanted Earth back to use for a way-station. The Dracs were denied occupation; they threatened to destroy all life on the planet by guiding a sizable asteroid into the path of Earth.

“The OAP prevented such a catastrophe. Periodic battles raged on in this solar system until 1933 when a cease fire and a treaty was signed with the Draconian Empire.” He paused and gazed at each person. “This brings us to present day and once again, the Dracs want Earth back but with no human habitation.

“What about the treaty and the cease fire,” Professor Berkowitz asked.

“When Draconis first occupied this planet, there were never any signed agreements with the League of Planets to claim squatter’s rights. To the Dracs this was just a technicality. According to them, they owned Earth, but at the time they were in too weak of a position to go to war over it. From the beginning of the Drac’s discovery of this planet until now and all the years in between, they have been bitter.

“Most recently in an effort to regain that which they claim is theirs, the Drac Council President reached out to the Crowned Master of the Black Suns. The KBS Master agreed to send his most deadly and qualified agent, a Setti named LeCertis Vullen. The Draconian Empire will have plausible deniability this time. If something goes wrong, the emperor will deny any involvement. Lord Vullen and his KBS agents will take the heat.

“Since I’m human and a citizen of the United States, they brought me on board to infiltrate and gather specific intelligence from the Extraterrestrial Tracking and Security databanks. That included a network of classified information with other agencies at Antica City and around this world.”

Dr. Mills wrote something on his pad and thumped it with his pen several times. “We’ve been theorizing Vullen’s doomsday threat and came up with a few possibilities. So, what can we expect?”

“An EMP device... something more powerful than any scientist on this world can envision,” Dustin said.

Stillness in the room distilled the air.

Berkowitz sighed breaking the silence. “Oh my God, an electromagnetic pulse, I was afraid of that.”

“That’d take quite a few bombs and some precise coordination to throw all of humankind back into the dark ages, wouldn’t it?” Logan said.

“Four max,” Dustin said. He stood, placing both fists on the table, gazing at each person. “The first thing you have to get into your head is that every ET species visiting Earth is on par with OAP technologically and that goes double for the Draconians. When you talk about setting off a nuclear EMP bomb, we won’t be discussing that puny atomic bomb dropped on Hiroshima or the most sophisticated hydrogen bombs of today. That’s like comparing a firecracker to a stick of dynamite.

“The one LeCertis is cooking up is a hundred times more powerful than the largest megaton nuke in America’s arsenal. He will set off four bombs simultaneously: two for the northern hemisphere and two for the southern hemisphere, that one bomb for each quarter quadrant of Earth.”

“Sergeant VanPelt, it’s difficult to predict the precise effects of a nuclear EMP bomb,” Mills said. “It depends on many factors... the altitude where a detonation occurs, the line of sight for gamma radiation, geographic latitude, the magnitude of a geomagnetic field, and the yield of the weapon.”

“LeCertis’ scientists have calculated all that, Doctor, and with pinpoint accuracy along with the means to deliver them,” Dustin said. “These weapons are so powerful, even Faraday cages and a hardened power grid won’t completely stop the electromagnetic surge.”

Narayanan rubbed his forehead and raised both hands in the air. “Pull the reins back on those horses a little. I’m not a nuclear physicist; I’m just a grunt — a highly specialized grunt, but one none-the-less. If we’re going to expose our little pink tushies to the big bad wolf, I’d like to get a basic understanding of how an electromagnetic pulse works.”

“Allow me,” Mills said. “When a nuclear bomb explodes, the initial event produces a sudden burst of invisible gamma rays. Gamma is a form of light and counts for just a small fraction from the yield of the bomb itself, around zero-point-five percent in the most powerful nuke on Earth. Gamma rays collide with the negative electrons in the thin upper atmosphere.

“These negative electrons are forced downward in the form of electromagnetic energy. When an EMP passes through metal objects like power transformers, cell phones, computers and even cables, these devices act like an antenna and capture this electromagnetic pulse. An EMP then generates a rogue current that travels through the circuitry of every electrical component disrupting or destroying them.”

“I understand there can be catastrophic social and economic effects on the population, but can someone explain this in more detail?” Sims said.

Dr. Pearlman partially raised his hand. “I’ll take that one. Let’s say the nuclear EMP device is as powerful as Dustin claims. If it explodes at three hundred miles above middle America, the country will be sent back to the fourteenth century. Everything . . . and I mean everything that people depend on today is in some way connected to electricity. The entire country along with parts of Canada and Mexico will be blacked-out and this isn’t just for a few days or a week... it could be years.

“It will take down the entire electrical grid along with all communications from radio to cell phones and from the Internet to televisions. Anything to do with electronics will be fried. Fuel and food production is neutralized and anything related to transportation will come to a standstill. Even if you had an older vehicle that’s not susceptible to EMP — oil, gas, and petroleum delivery won’t be possible because production will be brought to a halt. No fuel, no driving, food will fly off the shelves in one day and gasoline will go bad after a time.

“Hospitals can’t operate, 911 Centers are off-line, and pharmaceuticals won’t produce drugs. There’ll be no lights, no heating and air conditioning, and water treatment facilities would stop producing clean water. Trash collection will become non-existent and enormous piles will clutter the streets. The lack of sanitation will cause widespread bacterial infections and disease.

“Personal investments are gone, credit cards are no good and ATMs will shut down. EHV transformers that drive an electric current from point-of-generation to the consumer would take years to replace. It’s estimated that nine out of ten people will die from starvation, disease, freezing or by suicide.”

Bradley looked at Dustin. “Can we stop LeCertis?”

Dustin thought for a moment and looked back at him while shaking his head. “I don’t know, General.”

“Nothing short of our total success in preventing this catastrophe is good enough,” Mr. Fox said while picking up his briefcase and stood to leave the room. “We have our work cut out for us... let’s get it done.” He looked at Dustin. “Sergeant VanPelt, a word please out in the hall.” Once alone, Mr. Fox turned to him and said, “If we survive this, they have informed me that you will have to stand before a court-martial proceeding. The Air Force may charge you with treason. Considering your childhood abduction and that you are helping us now, the court might be lenient. In the meantime, you are in the custody of Logan Pyke. If you take flight, no matter how long it takes, you will be hunted down and brought to justice. Do I have your word that you won’t run?”

“Yes sir.”

“Okay then, good luck, soldier.”

Mills, Pearlman and Berkowitz passed them in the hall and Bradley went the opposite way to his office. Dustin sauntered back into the meeting room, sat down in his chair and signaled Logan, Narrie and Sims to do the same.

“What’ve you got for us there, partner,” Narrie said.

“There’s one bit of information that I want kept between us, Mr. Fox and General Bradley.”

“Go ahead,” Logan said.

“When I said the EMP bomb is a hundred times more powerful than those in America, I didn’t mention that it requires a very rare mineral. If LeCertis finds out that the ISF knows about this mineral, there’s no telling what he might do next.”

“A mineral not on Earth’s Periodic Table, I assume,” Narrie said.

“Correct,” Dustin said. “Since they slated me to be on this mission with LeCertis, I had to go through some heavy training on nuclear weaponry. Now, I’m not saying I’m an expert, but I do understand the basics. It wasn’t practical to bring such materials from Draconia with us because we were concerned over getting boarded by the authorities. So, we had to use what was available here on Earth.”

“Hence the reason Vullen shopped minerals at Creekmore Mining,” Sims noted.

Dustin nodded. “To black out the whole planet at once, we needed fewer but more powerful bombs — bombs incapable of being fabricated on this planet. The only way to do that was to add one additional ingredient to the recipe, it’s called triaftenite. When a nuclear device detonates, the plutonium fuel blows apart before most of it can be produced into fission. To correct this in today’s nuclear bombs, a boosted reaction is reached by including hydrogen gas. That’s still not powerful enough for LeCertis to accomplish his mission. Hydrogen gas must be replaced with triafenite. Its isotopes are compatible with plutonium and uranium, and it will increase gamma radiation exponentially... at least a hundred fold.”

“Earlier, you mentioned LeCertis using only four nuclear devices,” Sims said.

“Yes, anymore than that would be difficult to coordinate in space and in a tactical strategy. It’s important that all four detonate simultaneously. Since the bombs have timers, the nuclear technician can also trigger a remote synchronization for all four to start countdown at the same time.”

“Any fail-safes installed?” Sims asked.

“Yes, a second timer will start the detonation sequence one second after it senses failure of the first timer.

“When and where will Vullen receive this mineral?” Logan asked.

“I have betrayed his trust, Logan. He will change his process to throw me off track. Some things are still fuzzy. I need more time to think this through.”

Logan stood, stuffing his hands inside his pant pockets and paced in front of the table, a solemn expression revealed his impatience. He turned, placed his hands on the table and produced a sharp edge in his voice. “Damn it, Dustin, time is not a luxury we have. I need some actionable intelligence and I need it now.”

“Yeah, you’re right, but I can’t give you what I don’t have. I have to relax; otherwise, information that is more important might not surface at all. There’s only one place on this planet where I can go to think and that’s at Megan’s, if she’ll let me.” He stood and walked toward the door. “Give me a few days. Sims knows how to locate me.”

Twenty-six

Megan had her back to the door vacuuming behind the couch. She backed up to get closer to the recliner and spotted a dim figure standing next to the entrance to the living room. She gasped from being startled, turned off the vacuum cleaner, and spun around to see who it was. “Jack!” she exclaimed, running to hug him. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

“Me too, I couldn’t stop thinking about you guys.”

Megan smiled, dragging him to the sofa by his hand. “Sit,” she said and sat beside him.

“I feel terrible about Debbie. Logan was trying to get me out of here. If I had left that night you found me in the rain, none of this would have happened.”

“On the other hand, that monster might’ve shown up thinking you were here and we both might’ve been killed.” Megan looked him in the eyes with a forgiving expression. “It’s okay, Logan explained everything. I never blamed you.”

A sliver of a smile cracked his face. “That makes me feel better.” Dustin gazed at her. “I was hesitant to come here, but I had to find out how you guys were doing.”

“Deb doesn’t remember a thing about what happened. Thank you so much for saving her.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” he said with a nervous sigh. “It would’ve devastated me if anything had happened to her. We were lucky. LeCertis was focused on finding out how much I remembered about the mission. The funny thing is I never recalled anything in my past until he mentioned we were brothers and who I really was. So many things flooded my head all at once, and LeCertis was right; the truth did set me free.”

“My heart was in my throat. I’ve never been so terrified.” Megan paused. “The window was busted out. Is that how you escaped?”

“Yeah, he had a weapon trained on me — threatened to kill me.”

“Do you think he’ll ever come back? I feel so violated and afraid.”

Dustin shook his head. “No, he has no reason to return here. The mission is his top priority and even though he’s been discovered, he will never stop trying to complete it. Besides, you have four agents guarding your house and the area is under surveillance. LeCertis can’t risk coming back.”

“I’m worried over all this. Do you think he will complete his mission?”

“Not if we can help it.” Dustin grasped her hands in his and looked at her. “Megan, I need to ask a favor and I’ll understand if you say no.” He gazed around the living room with a smile in his eyes. “I missed you guys and I miss being here.”

“We miss you too,” Megan said with a smile.

“While here, I feel shielded from the outside world where I can relax and think. I need a day or two to get my head straight on some things. Would you mind?”

“Do we call you Dustin or Jack?”

“Debbie knows me as Jack and Jack it’ll be.”

The next morning at 5:35AM, Dustin had an overwhelming compulsion to watch the sunrise. He sensed he might never have the chance to do it again. He slipped on a light jacket, brewed a large cup of coffee and went through the basement door. The recliner was his most favorite place to be. There, he could look out over the water and to the shoreline on the other side of Richardson Bay. To his right was the San Francisco Bay Bridge. Even from this distance, it seemed majestic and part of the land.

Dustin thought and smiled. Yesterday when Debbie came home from school and saw me, she was so excited. When she cried and hugged me, I never experienced anything like that since growing up on a reptilian world where emotions are cold as winters are long.

That first day was set aside for Megan and Debbie. Vullen’s attack on the planet was nowhere near ready, otherwise he didn’t need to invade Debbie’s bedroom, and threaten her to find out if Dustin’s memory had returned. The three of them talked for hours and walked around the block several times as he did while he was healing. Dustin set aside the rest of the night for playing a board game and watching a little TV.

Deb is a hard one to put to bed but then again, she always was. I overheard Megan tell her I had a lot of important thinking to do tomorrow, and that I was not to be disturbed while I was in the back yard.

At dawn the following morning, Dustin lay on the recliner to relax. Rays from the sun peeked over the eastern horizon with hues of deep purple, grays and golden orange. It seemed as though he was front and center to a magnificent performance. Since returning to Earth, he never took the time to appreciate the simpler things in life, mostly because he was too busy being a Draconian espionage agent.

Dustin closed his eyes and drifted back through the years where it all began when he was a boy and the Drac patrol came. When my parents took me on a camping trip, I remember how the campfire kept my face warm and the cool night air made my back cold. Dad said that’s how the moon would feel if I were there. The side facing the sun is very hot but the dark side is freezing. It was mesmerizing to see the flames dance above the burning wood and watch the hot glowing embers float like fireflies in the night sky. The only thing I had on my mind was fishing the lake that next morning. The thought of hooking a bass on a line when I was a kid stirred me to excitement more than anything I ever knew.

Dustin recalled looking at his mom and dad’s tent on the other side of the campfire. They had gone to bed a half hour before, and they told him not to stay up too late. After he fell asleep, something grabbed him by the ankle and yanked him out through the tent opening while in the sleeping bag. His initial fear was that it was a bear, but found himself hanging upside down held by a strange man with weird eyes and leathery skin.

It appeared to be a man to him in that he had two legs, two arms, hands, and a head, but that’s where the similarities ended. Besides the reptilian skin, his face looked strange because his mouth and nose protruded, and he had round crocodile-like eyes. They were evil looking with slits resembling pictures of the devil. Four others roamed around the camp, and one of them came at him with a drawn knife. The lizard man sliced the sleeping bag down its seam and let it fall to the ground.

He gazed at him with hungered eyes and a wild smile exposing thin needle-sharp teeth. The strangers were much larger than most humans, almost twice the size of his father. As they poked and prodded him, they made chilling, shrieking noises that could be interpreted as laughter.

The one that held him up by his ankle grabbed him by the waist and shoved him in a horizontal position under his armpit. Once Dustin was able to get past his initial shock, he screamed, Dad, help! That cry for help exploded in his mind as he remembered gazing at his parent’s tent. One of those strange-looking men came out of the opening, holding a blade the size of a Bowie knife covered with blood.

He could see himself struggling and heard his own gritty screams. Mom! — Dad! The lizard man slapped him on the head, and he recalled the incredible pain in his neck just before he passed out. The next he knew, he was laying on the floor of a small metal enclosure he thought might be a closet. He sat up against a corner, the air hot and damp like a July Florida day.

After a while, the door opened and a monstrous leathery hand reached in, grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him out. The lizard man stood him in front of what appeared to be someone of importance. There was just the two of them. The one that hauled him out of his cage was dressed in a uniform close to the ones that kidnapped him. The one he faced was donned in much more elaborate attire with wide shoulder pads and black leather straps that crisscrossed his chest. The straps had medals and medallions pinned to it. That was the first time he laid eyes on his future Draconian father, Commander Lortan Vullen.

Anger amplified that painful hole in his heart from witnessing his parents being murdered. Dustin turned and kicked the Drac guard in the shin, flailed his fists into the midsection of his captor, beating him until he lost all strength to raise his arms. The Drac was on the verge of striking him when he was stopped by the harsh growl from his commander. Lortan spoke to the soldier in a strange unrecognizable language. The Drac guard bowed, turned, and left.

Dustin found out later that Vullen believed him brave and worthy of saving his life. He ventured forward with memories of meeting his Draconian foster mother, Shaneese and the human LeCertis. Shaneese wanted human children because she was aging and needed help with the chores around the dwelling. Their own children had grown and left to join the armed services.

Human children end up subservient, obedient as a dog, and treated more like a pet monkey than citizens of the Draconian Empire. Dustin and LeCertis worked hard, took their castigation for being aliens, but were fortunate to be taken in by an elite family. They eventually earned a measure of respect from the Vullen clan and with other interrelationships outside the family. The clan treated them with deeper esteem, just one rung above an endeared animal.

Dustin thought back through the years of forced acclimation to a culture that took many years to become comfortable with in their society. LeCertis told him several times that accepting his new life was much better than being subjugated to a cage in a dark isolated room.

When he went on errands, confrontation was inevitable with Dracs of his own age. Images raced through his head of young reptilians dragging him over a gravel courtyard with a rope around his neck. He could feel the tightness of the rope bearing down on his flesh, strangling him, the coarseness of stones abrading his back. They laughed in elation, celebrating his pain.

And when he could no longer cry out from a parched throat, they dragged him across red-hot coals. The searing heat burned his flesh, cauterizing the bleeding cuts and scratches on his chest and back. There were eight of them walking around an open fire in a swaying-wobble, their shimmering scaly skin reflecting the blazing combustion of the flames. He suffered the poking and shoving, yelling his name with hate and scorn, stirring him into restlessness. If he came home crying with cuts and bruises, Lortan thrashed him until his tears dried. His choice was either to stand up to the bullies or face Lortan. Dustin preferred the former.

His real father used to tell him what doesn’t kill you, only makes you stronger. Dustin couldn’t remember exactly how he said it, but every time he took a beating, that saying rang true. After maturing in years, he became comfortable with Draconian life. Officials allowed him work at a nearby military base as an apprentice to go on errands for the officers. He learned a lot about their military protocol and code of behavior while working there. In his spare time, he was trained to fly aircraft, mostly cargo and passenger types. He also trained on a couple of fighter planes but command never allowed him in combat.

Then that fateful day came. Lortan took him into a room to have a private conversation. He told him that the Draconian Emperor approached LeCertis, who now was a Setti of the Black Suns, to go on a secret mission. A star system called Kreet with two habitable planets located 43,000 light years from Draconis space interested the Empire.

Earth was in direct alignment with Kreet. Since the Draconians could survive in Earth’s atmosphere, the planet would be invaluable as a forward post for training, maintaining supplies and for mounting an attack. The emperor and his council knew that Earth would refuse such a massive buildup of Draconian forces so they decided to take it by force. They intended to make it to look as if a rogue species attacked the planet, which gave Emperor Gortac a means to deny his involvement if the mission failed.

Back then, Dustin didn’t know everything about LeCertis’ mission parameters, but it didn’t matter, he was a true Draconian loyalist. He wanted so much to be like LeCertis that it was nearing the point of envy. He remembered Lortan handing him his human father’s personal possessions from the campsite the night they kidnapped him.

The package contained a driver’s license, a credit card, two other IDs and some paper money. It excited him that they chose him to go to Earth with LeCertis on such important matters. First, he had to go through training and psych evaluations to see if he was up for the task. After eight months of cramming lessons, learning how to speak English again and going through a barrage of mind probing tests, he was approved to go.

When he landed in New Mexico, he researched the history of his human parents, Terrance and Linda VanPelt. Dustin ordered a copy of his own birth certificate and had a computer hacker create his history within those lost years being away from Earth.

After his first assignment with the Air Force, a Draconis sympathizer had connections to have him transferred to the Toiyabe base in California. The goal was to work for Extraterrestrial Tracking and Security. He would then have access to the intelligence database where he could give actionable information to LeCertis.

As Dustin lay there in deep contemplation, the closer he came to the details about the mission, the harder it was to recall the specifics. He remembered boarding the ThoPok battle cruiser with LeCertis. However, after the ship passed through the dimensional bridge on their way to Earth, he was now having some difficulty remembering what they informed him before getting here.

He rubbed his head in frustration and glanced at the position of the sun. It appeared to be midday. After sitting there for hours, he’d hit the proverbial brick wall and took a break. He went inside to get a glass of water. While there, the pattering of small feet running across the living room floor upstairs caught his attention. Curiosity sent him hurrying outside, through the gate, up the porch and through the front door. “Is Debbie home from school today? Is she sick?”

“No, it’s Saturday,” Megan said while giving her plants in the bay window some water.

Dustin flopped down on the couch and sighed. “Oh, I didn’t realize what day of the week it was.”

Megan sat beside him and rubbed his back in a gentle motion. “Are you okay?”

“Just a little headache.” Dustin looked at her and smiled. “I could use a hug... that is if it doesn’t cost much. I don’t have a cent to my name.”

“Come here, I’ll give you a freebee.”

“This feels nice,” he said. The scent of her hair smelled of lavender, her body like a soft pillow. They slowly pulled away, looking each other in the eyes when he noticed her flushed face glowing in a healthy pink. Megan moved closer, her eyes closing, her lips parting and in utter disbelief, she kissed. An electric spark surged through him unlike anything he had ever felt before.

Dustin didn’t want to think or say anything that would spoil the moment, but she was stepping on virgin soil. This was his first real encounter with a female of the same species. He had lived with the reptilians most of his life and never got out much at the Toiyabe Base.

Although he had gotten use to Dracs, there never was an attraction with the female gender and likewise them with him. That kiss drove him into an overpowering hunger for more — an almost primal instinct. One of the things that Dracs taught him was to gain control over emotions. Dustin knew that forcing himself on her might damage their friendship, so the best thing to do at that moment was to retreat.

They backed away and opened their eyes, noticing that Debbie was a foot from their faces. She gazed at them with fascination, her bright blue eyes smiling in approval, giggled and said, “Roosh — roosh.”

Megan moved away from him and pulled Debbie onto her lap. “You’re getting big young lady... and heavy. What is a roosh?”

“I don’t know,” she said, looking at Dustin, “I just like saying it.”

“Where did you hear it, from TV?” Megan asked.

“I don’t know.” Debbie laughed. “It sounds so funny.” She looked at Dustin. “Jack, do you have some more thinking to do? I wanna’ play a game.”

He stood. “Maybe this evening after dinner, sweetie.” He smiled at Megan. “Thanks for the hug. I’d better get back to it. See you guys in a while.” Dustin backed away and bumped into the end table, almost toppling the lamp but caught it before it went all the way over. “Ooops, clumsy me.”

As he turned to leave, his foot caught the magazine holder on the floor and magazines spilled out. He bent down to pick them up, looked at Megan and chuckled. “Big feet, they’re always getting in the way.” After straightening that out, he stood and turned left running face first into the jamb trim leading into the foyer. He stopped to get his bearings, facing the front door and rubbed his hand across his face. He glanced at them, pointed his finger in the direction he needed to leave. “That way.” Whew, that kiss made my compass go haywire.

With puzzled expressions, Megan and Debbie smiled, looked at each other and simultaneously said, “Roosh.”

Twenty-seven

Dustin sat in the recliner beneath the gnarled ageless oak, limbs bending under the weight of thick green foliage as he gazed out over Richardson Bay. Calm came over him, a sereneness so pure that he felt at peace with himself for the first time in his life. He closed his eyes and the song Living by the Bay played in his head. A chill raced up his spine while envisioning Ely Thompson performing it just as he remembered in childhood.

The song used to play on one of those oldie radio stations and his human dad loved it. He recalled the lyrics that carried a haunting melody. Waitin’ for the rising sun. I’ll be back here when the evenin’ comes. The ships are sailing in, and then I watch them sail away again. I’m livin’ by the bay, as the tides roll toward San Jose. I’m livin’ by the bay, while dreaming my life away.

A smile stretched across his face. Maybe Dad is sending me a sign. In that instant, the fog cleared and his memory opened in a rush with so many aspects of the mission coming into focus. Within minutes, everything was clear to him. Dustin’s eyes flashed open wide and he stood gazing at the amazing beauty around him, watching the low setting sun wash the surroundings in a golden hue. I know what I have to do now. Humans all over the world will suffer and die at the hands of the Draconian Empire. I can’t let that happen to Megan and Debbie.

Dustin hurried into the living room, picked up the phone and called Logan to send Sims to pick him up in the apartment. After he hung up, he walked upstairs to the kitchen where Megan was getting dinner. She had her back to him, hovering over a hot stove. “Megan.”

She twisted her head, smiled and turned back to her cooking. “Go get washed up, I’m almost done.”

“I have to go.”

Megan shut off the burner and slowly turned to face him, her expression solemn. “Can’t you stay another day?”

Dustin gazed at her and shook his head.

Her eyes welled. “Will we see you again?”

“I don’t know... there’s no way of knowing how this will turn out. The Air Force tells me I might have to face a court martial, so prison may be in my future.”

“Oh my God, for what?”

“Treason... even though I was captured and raised by the Draconians, I’m still an American citizen serving in the military. In their eyes that makes me accountable. I promised not to run. I don’t want to be on the run and have to look over my shoulder the rest of my life.”

“You shouldn’t be held responsible; none of this is your doing.”

“Please, let’s not make this any harder than it is.”

“Debbie will be heart-broken.” She started to call her, but Dustin grasped her arm.

“No, it’s better this way. Sims is waiting downstairs for me. Tell Deb I love her and I’ll miss her very much.” Dustin walked to the front door and out onto the porch followed by Megan. She grabbed him by the arm, turned him to face her and embraced him. “Please take care of yourself,” she whispered.

“I love you more than you know.” Dustin gave her a weak smile and kissed her forehead. “You and that little girl helped me see what is most important in this world. By saving me, you may’ve saved the planet. Don’t worry, everything will be all right.” He walked down the steps and through the gate just before Debbie came out.

“Jack?” She looked up at her mom. “Isn’t he coming for dinner, Mommy?”

“No sweetheart, he had to leave.”

“Leave? What do you mean?”

“He has to take care of some important business.”

“No!” Debbie ran after him, yelling, “Jack — Jack!”

“Debbie, come back here,” Megan shouted and rushed after her. They pushed through the front door of the apartment.

“Jack?” Debbie shouted and hurried to his bedroom, but he was gone.

Toiyabe National Forest, California

Sims took Dustin to Logan’s apartment at the residential section outside the Toiyabe ET mountain installation. She knocked. After a few seconds, he opened it. “Come in.”

They entered and he shut it, engaging the deadbolt.

“Where’s Narayanan?” Dustin asked.

“We made a new friend at Antica City we call our advisor,” Logan said. “His name is Tihbit and he convinced Narrie to take him to the base theater to watch a movie. We barely made it out of the Amazon forest alive, so I figured we earned a little down time until we can figure out what our next move is.”

“Sounds like I need to get caught up on some things. What do you consider down time?” Dustin asked.

“Downing a couple of beers and listening to the Grateful Dead.”

“Only a couple?” Sims snickered with a smile.

Logan motioned Dustin to the couch. “How’re you feeling?”

Dustin sighed, sat and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Got a nagging headache, do you have anything for it?”

“Sure.” Logan went to the bathroom medicine cabinet to get a couple of aspirin. He came back with a glass of water and pills, handed them to him and sat on the easy-chair. Sims snuggled up to a large pillow on the opposite corner of the couch from Dustin.

“Well, here we are,” Logan said. “I assume you were able to relax enough to get your head straight.”

“Yeah, when things came back to me, I felt even more conflicted and torn between my Drac family, my Earth relationships with Megan, Debbie and you guys. I also concluded that I was a real jackass before my injury. I was trying too hard to be a good Draconian soldier posing as an ETS agent. Most of my life, I’ve been brainwashed into hating my human birthright.”

Dustin washed the pills down with a large gulp of water. “Didn’t realize it at the time, but while I was going through the healing process, I was given a second chance. When the light came on and my full memories returned, I was lucky enough to have the wherewithal to analyze both of my lives. That made me realize how much I wanted to come home... this home.

“I have to give credit to two lovely ladies...” Dustin stopped when he felt a pair of eyes tearing through his insides. He glanced at Sims who was giving him a ‘what am I, chopped liver’ glare. “Make that three lovely ladies. These girls made me see what I was blind to after years of living on Draconis.”

Sims stuck her tongue out at Logan with humorous disregard as if to say See there, I am special.

“I never experienced the love of a child, or the compassion of a beautiful woman, or the good fortune to have friends like you guys. Now, the only thing I want to do is use every ounce of energy I have to stop LeCertis.”

“You don’t know how much we’ve been waiting to hear that,” Sims said.

Logan leaned into the backrest of the chair. “Yeah, we’ve come up with a string of dead ends. Do you have anything to add to what you’ve already told us?”

“There’s a Draconian battle cruiser in high orbit called the ThoPok; it’s the ship that brought us here. LeCertis has a squad of KBS agents on board and he has two scientists that specialize in making the EMP hi-tech bombs. By now, I’m sure he’s gathered the materials except that rare element triaftenite. It should be delivered soon if it hasn’t been already.”

“How?” Logan asked.

“The planet Olexxa will deliver the mineral in a space freighter. Twenty pounds of it will be sandwiched between two thin plates of lead four by eight feet and installed against the inside skin of the ship. Then that area of lead will be covered with the same steel and color to match the ship. If the authorities board them, it’s unlikely that any of Customs’ sensors or scanners will pick it up because of the lead lining.”

“And who will order the triaftenite?” Logan said.

Dustin shook his head. “I wracked my brain all day on that one. LeCertis can’t because of his high profile persona. I was never privy to that information, but the scientists on the battle cruiser would know.”

Sims sat up and leaned toward Dustin. “Yeah but the problem with that is if we board the ship with a court order and start asking questions, it’ll tip our hand too early.”

Logan stood and paced a few times in thought. “Yeah, yeah, she’s right, we’d blow our cover for sure.” He waltzed over to the fridge and pulled out a cold beer. “Dustin, you want one? Sims, I’d ask you just to be polite, but I know you don’t drink... anything.”

Sims squinted and curled up her nose at him in lighthearted contempt.

“Sure, I’ll take one,” Dustin said.

Logan handed him a can, sat down, took a gulp, and said, “Any suggestions on what our approach should be?”

Dustin gazed at the floor after getting hit with an epiphany. “Wait a minute.” He looked up at Logan. “After LeCertis showed up at Megan’s, he had Debbie’s neck pinched between his fingers. As I recall, she was in some sort of trance. He has this special power of being able to control the mind in certain instances. Debbie is a child and that makes it easier because she’s more vulnerable and open-minded.

“In that state, Debbie may’ve picked up random segments from Vullen’s thoughts. She said the word roosh several times. I thought nothing of it at the time but when that dark cloud cleared in my head, I remembered LeCertis communicating with someone named Roosh. Does that ring a bell?”

Logan’s eyes widened and reacted so fast that he almost spilled his beer. “Yes.” He and Sims looked at each other, smiled and simultaneously said, “Arlon Roosh.” He guzzled his beer and set his empty can on the coffee table. “Narrie and I took a trip to see him. He’s licensed to sell legalized minerals and metals to ships in need of repair.

“Roosh has been caught twice with minerals on the black list. After I almost got killed at the Creekmore mining office, Sims and I chased Vullen to his ship. I suspected Roosh might know something about Vullen’s whereabouts, which is why we went to see him. I see now why he gave us that information on Vullen being in Antica City; he wanted to keep us away from his business.”

“Roosh was always one for trying to get away with an illegal profit,” Sims said.

“Earth humans have a saying,” Logan said. “He’s working both ends against the middle. Roosh hoped that we would play cat and mouse with Vullen and forget about him.”

“Hmm, good point,” Dustin said.

Logan got up and opened the fridge, picked up two more beers and handed one to Dustin. “Tomorrow morning, we are going to pay Roosh a visit.”

Twenty-eight

The next morning Tihbit stepped through the entrance of the Lyran tunnel leading inside the mountain in the Nez Perce Clearwater National Forest, Rocky Mountains, Idaho. Logan gave him an assignment to play the part of a smuggler. He approached a room to the left, peered in and saw a Lyran. She sat behind a desk writing something on a notepad. “Excuse me, I’m looking for an Arlon Roosh. Can you direct me?”

“Go through the tunnel to the first cavernous opening and go right, then up the steps and turn left. Roosh is in the second office on the right.”

“Thank you.” Tihbit felt somewhat intimidated around Lyrans because they were giants, somewhere between eight to ten feet tall. To him, they seemed like an elephant to a mouse. He heard they were only friendly to humans that have blonde hair, large blue eyes and a small nose like them.

Take no grief and stand tall is what Logan said. I just hope these fake documents I’m carrying will be convincing enough. Tihbit walked up the steps to Roosh’s office. No one was in. He saw a bell on the counter, which was well above head height for him. He stretched his arm up and tapped the button a couple of times.

Roosh came out from the back, didn’t see anyone and went back to what he was doing.

Tihbit got tired of waiting and slammed the bell hard five times. He waited.

Roosh came out again, looked around and saw no one. He picked up the bell to study it and set it back with a thump. He turned to go back to the stockroom when he heard a voice.

“Are you going to wait on me or not,” Tihbit said in a gruff tone.

Roosh leaned against the counter, looking around the room.

“Hey lard ass, down here.”

Roosh’s eyes fell below the counter to see a potential client with long, wavy brown and black fur. “Oh, you’re cute, what is your species?”

“Look dickless, my sister is cute, I’m a male. What are you, gay?”

“Sorry, how can I be of service, uh... sir.”

“I’m here to buy some minerals.”

“Wait there, I’ll be right back.” After a minute, he returned with a high stool and set it next to Tihbit. “If we’re going to discuss business, we’ll have to face each other. Would you like me to help you up on the stool?”

Tihbit put his fists on his hips and scowled. “Back off, Bubba, I was climbing before you were a tiny speck in your mama’s womb!”

Roosh extended his hands palm side out. “Alright — alright, just trying to help.”

Tihbit climbed up onto the seat and laid his arms on the countertop. “You can best help by selling me what I need. My ship is in disrepair and I’m in a hurry. Got it?”

“You sure are a pushy little guy; you could use some lessons in tactfulness.”

“So, what do you want me to do, sumo boy, get a job at grocery store greeting people?”

“Hey,  I’m trying to be a professional here. I don’t have to sell you anything, you know.”

“Let me say something to you. My freighter is loaded to the hilt with luetainium, over thirty tons of it. Katar Bentim will be very unhappy if something happens to his cargo. So, if you don’t want to find yourself worked over on a lonely road some night, you’d best snap to it, and I mean now.”

“You know Bentim?”

“Long-time friend. I make special deliveries for him, if you catch my drift. And, if there is somewhere in this galaxy you can pick up a certain mineral, you will find a generous present under the Christmas tree from Santa Claus.”

“Santa Claus...” he said, gazing at the counter. “I’ve heard of this man, who is he?”

“Never mind numb-nuts, Bentim asked me to pick up two pounds of Optennium 36.”

“Oh, no-no-no, that stuff is too volatile; I wouldn’t even want it near the mountain. Plus, it’s on the Galactic Custom’s Black List. They’d lock me up and throw away the key for sure.”

“Are you wimping out on me? Bentim told me he’s bought illegal minerals from you a few times, and he paid you well.”

“How can I tell if all of this is legit? You could be a plant from the authorities for all I know.”

Tihbit reached into his strapped pouch to get some documents.

“I like your purse,” he said.

“What, did you grow up in the dark ages? This isn’t a purse, you moron, females carry purses. I’m a male, remember? Check it out, this is a handbag. If you’d open those greedy eyes, you would see I have no pockets because I don’t wear pants!”

Roosh rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”

“Here’s my galactic passport, my class B pilot’s license to operate a freighter and a picture of Bentim and me next to my shuttle craft. Now, if this is not enough to convince you, there’s not much I can do about it.” He reached into his handbag and slapped four rolls of gold bullion coins on the counter. “This is a down payment. You’ll get another ten rolls when you deliver the product.”

“Hmm, fourteen rolls, that’ll set me up for a few years.”

Roosh picked up the gold and placed it under the counter. “It’s a deal. I’ll have it shipped to another location — someplace secluded, maybe in the middle of the Sahara Desert. I’ll be in touch.”

A silky voice floated from behind Roosh. “The only thing you’re going to be in touch with are the bars in prison,” Sims said, aiming her Glock at him. “Back away from the counter, Roosh.”

Roosh pivoted. “Sims, where did you come from?” He slowly raised his hands and frowned at Tihbit who had climbed off the stool and was standing in front of the counter with a wide, proud grin. “You little runt, you set me up good. I’m slipping; I should’ve seen that coming.” With one shove, he pushed the counter over. It toppled on top of Tihbit. Roosh turned and slipped through the back in a rush.

“Are you all right?” Sims yelled.

Tihbit’s response returned in a muffled voice. “Yeah, yeah, go after him.”

Sims chased him through the rear inventory room. “Stop or I’ll shoot!” She suspected he realized it was an idle threat because they needed him in good condition for interrogation. Sims raised her wrist radio and shouted into it, “Roosh is on the run. He just slid down a brass pole to Level-G. I’m right behind him.”

Logan came back over the radio. “Narrie, come through the front entrance tunnel and head toward the eatery in the mall section. I’m heading there from the rear entrance. Sims, drive him to us.”

“Copy that,” Sims said.

Roosh rushed through the crowd on a hard sprint, past gift shops and food stations, pushing people out of the way. He took a hard right, through a door and down some steps. Sims translocated on the lower landing and met him just as he came down. “Stop right there.”

“What the...” He groaned, turned and hurried back up past G-level and headed to F-level, sweat dripping off his brow. Once again, he faced Sims holding her weapon.

“I can do this all day, Roosh.”

Roosh’s eyes grew wide and moaned, “Impossible!” He turned and rushed back down the way he came.

Sims radioed Logan. “We’re in the south wing stairwell and he’s heading back to G-level.”

“I’m there,” Logan said. He pushed through the door just as Roosh was trudging down the steps, huffing from being out of breath. Narayanan was a few seconds behind.

“You’ve got me. I give up,” he said, sitting on a step. “How did she do that?”

“That’s a secret and if we told you, I’d have to kill you,” Narayanan said.

“Tihbit is trapped under the counter. I’ll meet you guys back there,” Sims said.

Roosh turned to look at Sims, but she was gone. His eyes roamed to the upper landing. “How does she do that?”

Sims relocated next to the counter in the office. “Tihbit?”

“Get this blasted thing off me!”

“I’ll raise it enough for you to crawl out. Ready?”

“Any day now.”

Sims lifted eight inches off the floor and he squirmed out on his back. When he was clear, she let it fall. She knelt beside him to check him out. “Thank goodness you’re not badly hurt.”

Tihbit rotated his jaw a few times. “Another half inch shorter on that counter lip and my mouth would have been molded to the inside corner. Did you get him?”

“Yeah, we got him. Sorry, I had to leave you but I couldn’t let him escape.”

“That’s okay; it’s just part of the job.”

Roosh came through the front office door escorted by Logan and Narayanan.

“Are you okay there, Little Bit?” Narrie asked.

“Yeah, I’ll survive,” he frowned, grabbing the stool and sliding it over into the opposite corner. Tihbit pointed and growled, “Sit, Roosh.”

Roosh looked at Logan with a quizzical expression.

“You heard the man,” Tihbit said in a raised tone.

He sat, gazing at Tihbit.

“You’re in deep trouble and I was almost a chocolate splat on the floor juggling halos. Dealing in illegal minerals is one thing, but attempted murder will cost you big time,” he said, pointing his furry little finger in Roosh’s face.

Roosh’s eyebrows rose to the top of his head and hunched his shoulders, looking at Logan. “Hey, it was an accident, I didn’t realize the little guy was that close. I was just trying to cause a diversion so I could get away.”

Tihbit stuck his hand out palm side up to Roosh.

“What do you want now, runt?” Roosh asked.

“Four rolls of gold coins.”

“In the top shelf of the counter.”

Logan faced him. “He’s right you know; we’ve got you dead to rights. We videotaped everything you said, and for dealing in a volatile explosive substance, you could get twenty to life.”

“Logan, nothing ever happened, the deal never went through. You know I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Doesn’t matter, slick,” Narrie said, “you accepted payment and that indicates intent. You’re going to the slammer, mammer.”

“Come on, there must be something we can do... some kind of deal we can work out here.”

Logan walked back and forth in a slow lumbering pace, appearing to be in thought, but in actuality he knew exactly what deal he wanted to offer. He needed to make Roosh sweat, soften him up, give him some anticipation to place the fear of incarceration into him.

Logan stopped and stared at him for a few seconds. “Alright, here’s the deal. We won’t report your little transaction with Tihbit in exchange for information on when and where LeCertis Vullen will accept your shipment of triaftenite.”

Roosh appeared upset, sweat beading on his upper lip and forehead, speaking in a quick, nervous tone, “I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about, Logan.”

“Grab him, Narayanan and let’s head to Toiyabe,” Logan growled.

“Wait — wait! You must think I’m half out of my mind to even contemplate such an absurd deal,” he groaned. “A deal implies something that I would get in return. The only options you’re giving me are life in prison, or a sure death sentence from General Vullen. Well, I don’t want either.”

Logan paused. “Okay, here’s my final offer. You tell us what we need to know, and I’ll have you placed in the Witness Protection Program. You choose any planet you want to live on, other than Earth, and you’ll have a new identity and a new history. But, I have one stipulation.”

“That is?”

“You will never work selling and shipping metals and minerals to galactic customers. If I catch you, this videotape will surface again, and I assure you there’s no statute of limitations here.”

Roosh thought for a moment. “Agreed.”

“Tell me who and where the supplier is,” Logan said.

“I don’t know.”

Narayanan grabbed two fistfuls of shirt and shoved him hard against the wall. “I thought we had an understanding. You’d better spit it out before I bust you up.”

Roosh’s brow rose high on his forehead. “I don’t know — I don’t know, I tell yah! I can only order triaftenite through channels because my contact goes through the representative of the seller. The only way to find out who the source is would be to get there at the point of delivery. Those that are delivering the product will give you the name of the seller.”

Narrie released his shirt brushing the wrinkles out. “When and where will the delivery be made?”

“Even though I have ordered it, I don’t know when it’ll be delivered, I swear. For security reasons, Vullen wanted to approve the time of delivery. But I can tell you where. I overheard them talking and I recognized the location. It’s a place called Pyramiden. I’ve used that place a few times for various reasons. Vullen wanted a remote spot that is difficult to get to so they chose the Norwegian island of Svalbard near the Arctic Pole.”

“The North Pole? That god forsaken place is sub-zero up there,” Narrie said with a groan.

Tihbit smiled. “That sounds great to me.”

“That figures, Little Bit, you’re a walking fur coat.”

Roosh lumbered over to a filing cabinet against the wall, unlocked a drawer, pulled it out and reached into the back.

Logan, Sims and Narayanan pulled their weapons and aimed them at him in one fluid motion.

He yanked his hand out and fell against the wall with both hands over his head. “Don’t shoot — don’t shoot! I was only getting a piece of paper, you—you trigger happy cops!”

They slowly lowered their weapons.

“We’re not cops, wise ass. We are ISF agents, and if you don’t know the difference by now, I might just shoot you anyway,” Narrie said, pointing his gun at him.

Logan glared at Roosh. “You tell us what you’re doing, before you do it, is that understood?”

Roosh nodded. “I’m going to pull out the drawer and get a key to unlock a box.” He did so.

Sims walked next to him in case he had a hidden weapon inside it.

“I’m unlocking the box and getting the information,” he said. Roosh turned and handed it to Sims, who carried it to Logan.

Roosh wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve. “That’s the coordinates in latitude and longitude where the triaftenite is being delivered.”

Logan glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes. “Yeah, I figured as much.”

“Pyramiden is an abandoned Russian coal mining settlement,” Roosh said. “There’s a coal-burning power plant on the far eastern side of the community. The front faces the bay, and you go up a metal staircase; it’s the only one there. The outside door leads you into a foyer-like room.

“Look to your left and you’ll see a window. Just beneath that window is a shelf cabinet screwed to the wall so take a screw-gun. The package will be under the shelves and in between the floor joists. One more thing, if you find a green flag in place of the package. That means the triaftenite pickup was successful. Last I heard there were only six people that watch over Pyramiden. They only carry weapons to scare off polar bears. They are not soldiers, so don’t get trigger happy.”

Logan faced Sims and Narrie. “If we can intercept the delivery, we can confiscate the triaftenite before Vullen gets his hands on it.”

“That might buy us a little time, too,” Sims said.

“And if we find out who the distributer is, we can put him out of business. Or at least long enough to catch Vullen before he can get a shipment from another supplier,” Narrie said.

Sims picked up the phone. “I’ll call Mr. Fox to have the shuttle craft prepped and ready to go.”

Logan looked Roosh in the eyes and said, “Narayanan, take him to his room so he can pack his things. Pack only with whatever two suitcases will carry. We’ll meet you at the front entrance.”

Twenty-nine

Pyramiden, Svalbard, Norway:

A Class-A Terraga shuttle ascended through the upper stratosphere from Toiyabe, ETA two hours and twenty minutes to Pyramiden on the island of Spitsbergen. The closest location to civilization from Svalbard was Longyearbyen, thirty miles south by boat or snowmobile.

On board the shuttle, Logan called for a team briefing. He brought along a guide familiar with Pyramiden, Navy Seal Lieutenant Markus Hailey. As a boy, he used to visit the community with his father, an American contractor working there as an advisor on coal production.

Logan unfurled a couple of maps on a table. “The shuttle will land on the other side of this hill around three hundred fifty yards east of the coal power plant,” Logan said, pointing at the layout. “Electric driven snowmobiles will provide silent running so we don’t have to worry about any unwanted attention from those few people watching over the installation. What concerns me are these structures around the coal plant. Knowing Lord Vullen, he may have lookouts covering the triaftenite pickup zone.”

Hailey studied the map for the layout of the buildings near the power plant. “The one just east of the plant is an out-building that was used for mechanical and electrical repair.” He pointed to another structure. “This one is a shed forty yards west; it was used for storage. If memory serves, this larger structure here located next to the water was an administration building.”

“If we do run into resistance, they’ll more than likely use all three structures to pin us in the middle,” Dustin said.

Logan looked at Hailey. “Any suggestions, Lieutenant?”

“I’d secure these sites and station a man outside each structure to cover our backs.”

“Roger that,” Logan said.

Narrie pointed to the upper level of the power station. “Could be Vullen may have plants inside where they’ll have plenty of cover and the element of surprise.”

“And if that is the case, they will have the advantage of being more familiar with the inside layout,” Sims said.

Narrie glanced at Hailey and then the map. “What can you tell us about this Pyramiden place, Lieutenant?”

“It used to be a Soviet coal mining settlement abandoned back in 1998 named after a pyramid-shaped mountain next to the small township. Sweden discovered it in 1910 and sold it to the Soviet Union in 1927. After World War II, the USSR allocated more money to build a hospital, more residential buildings, and a recreation center in the complex. For Soviet standards, it was quite lavish. Over a thousand inhabitants populated it up to 1964 and after the last of the residents left in 98, it’s been a ghost town ever since.”

Logan glanced at his watch. “By my calculation we should arrive at around 2AM their time.”

“Might as well relax until we get there,” Narayanan groaned with a yawn and walked away. Logan’s voice called out from behind.

“Narrie, Atryn called me and said she couldn’t get in touch with you. She’s been worried about you.”

Narayanan turned to see everyone holding jars of baby food, wearing cheesy grins. “What the...?”

“We hear you’d make a pretty good dad,” Dustin said with a chuckle. “Who else would think of giving a baby the muzzle of a gun to chew on?”

The group laughed.

He squeezed his eyes shut, pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb, mumbling, “That woman has a big mouth.”

Sims walked to him, handed him a jar of Gerber sweet potatoes and put her arm around his shoulder. “Don’t tell me that our Mr. Stone Wall here might have a love interest. Are you going soft on us, Narrie?”

Logan laughed. “She said you looked so pitiful after the baby puked all over the front of your shirt. Was it the clear, slimy stuff or that yellow, chunky variety?”

Belly laughs and snickers reverberated off the metal walls.

Narrie’s expression went stolid, raised the baby food and looked at it with curiosity, saying, “I’m hungry. Anybody got a spoon?”

The Pyramiden Operation required the team to be fitted in Seal tactical uniforms with full combat gear. Their weapons consisted of .45 caliber Glocks and .223 automatic assault rifles since M6 and M26 particle-beam weapons were outlawed on Earth outside of Toiyabe and Antica City. The squad unloaded four electric driven snowmobiles and mounted them. Northern lights spread above the mountain peaks with spectacular hues of red and green against a starlit, clear black sky. A foot of fresh powdery snow blanketed the ground and the freezing night air bit at their noses.

“Use night vision devices, run the snowmobiles with lights off and keep in single file until we reach the decommissioned power plant,” Logan said.

Hailey took the lead, heading down a gentle slope toward the water and veered right going west along the shore. They halted fifty yards from the light pole in front of the power plant. They could clearly make out the metal staircase on the outside.

Hailey increased magnification on his night vision device and whispered, “I don’t see any disturbance in the snow around the plant so maybe there won’t be any resistance.”

Logan hesitated and gazed around the compound. “There’s no telling how long this snow’s been here. It could’ve fallen hours ago and along with this brisk wind, any traces of tracks could be buried beneath a fresh layer. Okay Meyers, stake out the three-story building next to the inlet. Newcomb, you take the shed on the west side and Vickers, take the repair shop on the east side. When we make it to the staircase, Vickers, you and Newcomb will follow us inside. Meyers, stay put and keep eyes on the perimeter. Move out, and give me a heads-up when you’re in place.”

After five minutes, the confirmations came back to Logan over the two-way radio.

“Vickers, a go. Station is secure. No evidence of any movement.”

“Newcomb here, I’m in — station secured.”

“Meyers, ready. Clean as a whistle here.”

Logan looked around at his team. “Okay, let’s do this. Hailey, you take point.”

“Roger.”

Barren of trees and brush, no matter which direction they approached the coal firing plant, they were exposed. The team crouched low as they moved out. Hailey led them toward the maintenance shack where Vickers stood guard and skirted along the side of the building. They crossed the open area between the maintenance building and the plant. After making it to the east side of the plant, they hugged the wall and moved to the front corner where Hailey peered around the edge. “Meyers, do we have clearance to the staircase?”

“Affirmative, there is zero activity.”

Hailey turned to the team and nodded. They crouched low, pushed ahead toward the outside staircase, eyes sighting down their assault rifles, scanning in all directions. A crash of breaking glass on the second level of the plant startled them. They dropped to one knee, pointing their rifles in the direction of the noise.

“Talk to me, Meyers,” Logan whispered.

“Nothing, sir. There is a missing pane of glass where there was one before. Probably came loose and fell on the floor. I’ll keep eyes on that area. Am switching NVD to thermal infrared. You are clear to move ahead.”

“Okay, going forward.” He motioned at Hailey with his hand to continue. Another fifty feet put them at the base of the metal staircase where they climbed the steps with catlike prowess and filed inside. Hailey bolted the door. Each one swiveled their NVDs off their eyes and turned on their helmet-mounted flashlight, illuminating the window side of the room where they located the shelf cabinet.

“Hailey, unscrew the cabinet,” Logan said. After the screws were backed out, the cabinet loosened and Narayanan pulled it away from the wall.

Hailey reached down to grab the flag. “Green — damn it, we missed the pickup!”

“Vickers, you and Newcomb keep an eye on those two interior door openings,” Logan said.

The two-way radio energized in the team’s ear buds with an anxious sounding voice. “I just picked up four signatures on my thermal infrared. They are on the third level just above you. They do not appear human.”

“Roger that, Meyers. Stay put and watch our backs.” He motioned the team to turn off the flashlights and use the night observation devices.

“It’s as quiet as a graveyard at midnight,” Vickers whispered, wide-eyed, glancing around the room.

“Yeah, creepy,” Newcomb said.

“Let’s move out,” Logan whispered.

Their radios energized again. “There are two reptivas out front heading toward your position. They are at the door,” Meyers exclaimed. Suddenly, four muffled gunshots came over their ear-buds from Meyers’ rifle followed by an agonizing scream.

“Meyers, what’s your status... come back,” Logan whispered. No response was given.

Everyone turned to face the door, weapons pointed, waiting, watching.

“Damn,” Dustin growled. “Sounds like Meyers bought it.”

“What the hell is a reptiva?” Vickers asked in a forced whisper.

“They are mercenary assassins from the planet Massilon, “Sims whispered. “Reptivas are a dangerous species of reptilians that thrive in cold environment, notorious for attacking fast and in stealth. They look similar to a Draconian in the face, but their bodies tend to be more slender and have long tails. Be aware they can just as easily walk upright as slither around on all fours like a reptile. Their main weapon of choice is a laser pulse gun mounted to their head that’s controlled with their mind.”

Suddenly, two loud thumps pounded the outside door and it gave way with a cracking thud. A feral scream filtered through the opening and laser beams pulsed, crisscrossing the room tearing into the walls and ceiling. Newcomb fell from a fatal hit to the head. A shot maimed Hailey in the chest, his cut cauterized from the heat of the laser. The first reptiva rushed the room, upright and firing at will. The second one slipped in behind its comrade and slithered close to the floor and across to the other side of an interior door.

Logan and the rest dropped to one knee, firing .223-millimeter rounds from their automatic assault rifles. The sound suppressors over the muzzles kept the fiery flashes to a minimum preventing visual interference with their night vision devices. A hail of bullets tore into the reptivas and they fell to the floor stock-still.

“Vickers, check the front for hostiles. Sims, check on Newcomb and Hailey.” Logan glanced at the two dark door openings leading to the open bay of the plant’s boiler room. “Meyers said he saw infrared signatures on the upper level.”

“I noticed a door on the west side. It might be safer trying to make it through the plant than getting caught out in the open outside,” Narrie said.

Sims stood up after checking Hailey’s wound. “He has laser penetration from his neck down his chest. He’s bad off and Newcomb is dead.”

“Move it, move it!” Vickers said in a forced whisper. “Three reps coming down the staircase from the upper level.”

Unlike most reptilians that are cold blooded, reptivas are much warmer. Infrared showed dark-red hotspots over their upper chests and backs. This made them an easy target in the dark when using infrared. Though reptivas don’t use night vision devices, they do have keen eyesight in the shadows.

“Narrie, take point, Sims you’re behind me. Dustin, bring Hailey. We’ll come back for Newcomb later. Vickers, you bring up the rear, if those sons of bitches show their faces, blast’em back to Massilon.”

“You got it, Boss”

Narayanan led them to the metal staircase leading twenty feet down to ground level in the boiler room. Three inoperative furnaces had a network of pipes and ductwork crossing over them and around them. The haunting sound of Vickers firing his automatic weapon pierced the air, sounding as though he used a full magazine before there was silence.

“Vickers,” Logan whispered.

“Yes sir, got two, the other one hightailed it down the front stairs before I could pop’em.”

“Secure the front door. Come ahead and stay sharp.”

“On my way.”

Beside the boilers sat piles of coal ten feet in height with conveyor belts used to feed the mounds to the boilers. It appeared not to have been in service for years. Logan and Dustin laid Hailey next to the center boiler and covered him with poly-metal foil blanket.

Narayanan saw a partial heat signature from a reptiva projecting behind a series of six-inch pipes to his right. He signaled the others to halt while he slid in next to a wall. To get a clean shot, he positioned himself behind the boiler where he had clear line-of-sight between two narrowly spaced pipes. He aimed, squeezed the trigger hitting the reptiva in the chest. A strange screeching noise resounded from the creature as it fell to the floor.

“Without warning something wrapped around his neck from behind. Narrie grabbed it, tugging on it without affect. The appendage felt leathery as it constricted tighter by the second. He couldn’t shout for help because his windpipe had been cutoff. With as much strength as he could muster, he turned to face the reptiva realizing that it was its prehensile tail choking him.

It gazed into his eyes, appearing exhilarated over having got the drop on him. He kneed it in the rib area and slammed his elbow down hard on the tail stretched out between them but to no avail. Narayanan could sense darkness befalling him. He had no more strength or awareness to fight and fell to the concrete deck, losing consciousness.

The reptiva’s green slitted eyes wrinkled at the corners exposing a ruthless smile of satisfaction, knowing that he would get a bonus for killing a human. In a sudden unexpected turn, its facial expression switched to agonizing surprise and fell to the floor. Dustin stood over it holding a combat knife covered with its greenish blood. He bent down next to Narayanan to feel for a pulse. There was none. “Logan,” he whispered into his communication device. “Get over here, quick. It’s Narrie.”

Logan rushed to the back of the boiler with Sims and Vickers close behind.

“Narrie!” Sims groaned in an anxious whisper.

Logan looked at Narrie lying motionless on the deck and then to Dustin wearing a solemn expression, slightly shaking his head. “I’ll kill everyone of those sons of bitches!” Logan growled, pulling out two magazines and slipped them into his top pocket. He checked his assault rifle to make sure it had a round chambered with the safety off.

Sims stood, recognizing that look of vengeful fury. “Don’t do anything crazy, Logan.”

“That’s just what I’m about to do, Sims. Stay here and watch after Narrie. Dustin, you go to the west side of the room, Vickers to the east, and shoot anything squiggly. I’m going to call them out; I’m tired of all this pussyfooting around.” He turned and waltzed out into the open bay in front of the boilers and yelled, “Okay, you green-blooded bastards, you want a piece of me, come and get it!” His voice echoed off the walls in long delays.

Suddenly, two emerged from heavy piping on the left side of the bay, aimed their helmeted weapons that spat laser blasts at him in near misses. Logan placed the butt of his rifle on his hip, shooting semi-auto, striking the reptilians in the head and chest. A laser shot grazed his left back shoulder. He turned and rushed toward the reptiva, again shooting single shots.

The hostile backpedaled in shock, utter surprise drawn over its face, again missing Logan by mere inches with its laser blasts. Vickers put one to its head. Three more appeared from the back of the pile of coal, firing at will. Logan dropped to one knee, shot, putting one down. Shots rang out from his left. Dustin took out the other two.

Logan gazed around, waiting for more to appear when he saw Dustin and Vickers sprinting toward him. Each one grabbed an arm and dragged him behind a heavy counter.

“Are you all right — are you hit?” Dustin asked.

Logan didn’t respond as he stared into space, a blank expression drawn over his face.

“Vickers, stay with him and hog tie him if he tries to get up. Cover me; I’m going to see if we got them all.” Dustin moved around the bay, maintaining cover while looking through his night vision device for enemy thermal heat signatures. He climbed the steps to the next level and then the third level. After finishing his sweep, he came back down to report. “Are you with us, Logan?” Dustin asked.

Logan swiped his hand over his face and leaned against the counter. “Yeah, I’m here.”

“I did a sweep through the building. I think we got them all. Let’s get back over to Sims. We need to get the bodies of our fallen and get the hell out of here.”

“I agree,” Vickers said.

They stood and walked back to Sims who stayed with Narrie. When they rounded the corner, she had set up several LED lanterns. They pivoted their NVDs above their helmets, and couldn’t believe their eyes.

“What the...” Logan whispered with a smile.

There sat Narayanan, leaning against the wall looking at them with just a hint of a grin stretching his lips. “I woke up and Sims was hovering over me giving me a big, sloppy kiss... she was taking advantage of me. Do you believe that?”

She slapped him on the shoulder with an affectionate gesture. “I was not. I was giving you CPR. And, I applied my healing-touch to your neck to get the swelling down.”

“Well, it felt pretty sexy to me,” Narrie said, grinning.

They looked at each other, laughing from relief that Narrie was okay. Logan bent over, resting his hands on his knees and let out a deep sigh. “Welcome back partner, you had us going there for a bit. Vickers, go get Newcomb, Dustin, go get Meyers. I’ll help Sims move Hailey out to the snowmobiles. We’ll meet there.” He glanced at her. ‘Give me a minute; I need some fresh air to clear my head.”

The four of them quietly watched him saunter away toward an exit door.

“I’ve never seen anything remotely like that in my career,” Vickers said.

“Logan just put himself out there. He definitely had a guardian angel hanging over him,” Dustin said. “Those reptiva laser shots were missing him by centimeters.”

“He probably had them so rattled and astonished that it affected their accuracy,” Sims said.

Narrie glanced at each one them. “What in the dickens are you all talking about? Someone wanna’ fill me in for Christ’s sake?”

Thirty

The Drac Battle Cruiser ThoPok:

“Captain Nariv, I have an incoming message from a Class C Tholusian spacecraft. It’s General Vullen, sir, he’s requesting permission to come aboard,” the communications officer said.

“Granted, Commander Perro, escort our distinguished guest to the briefing room. I’ll await him there.” Nariv left the Bridge. After the door closed behind him, he leaned on his desk with both hands, his head drooping with concern. The General is coming back here after murdering my captain. What is he thinking? He knows I’ll have to arrest him.

Nariv ambled to his lavatory sink, splashed cool water on his face and looked in the mirror. There, he witnessed the reflection of trepidation and disappointment. Fear of facing a Setti of the Black Suns and disappointment for not having a more disciplined control over his emotions. He closed his eyes to relax knowing that if he showed any weakness in front of Vullen, there will be bad consequences. I wanted a command of my own but not like this. And here I am, responsible for an expensive piece of the empire’s property and thousands of lives. When I open my eyes, I will show no weakness... I am the captain of the ThoPok... now act like it.

Nariv opened his eyes and recognized the calm, bold expression of a seasoned commander that he expected, one that was in command. He must exude confidence and resolve to protect his ship and gain respect from his crew. If General Vullen doesn’t give me a reasonable response for killing the captain, he must be placed under arrest. With rediscovered strength, he walked to his desk, sat and pressed a button for Security.

“Yes sir,” a voice replied.

“Lieutenant Azell, I want a four-man armed detail standing by on my order, understood?”

“Permission to ask what this is about, sir?”

“An arrest, Lieutenant. You will know who and why if the time comes.”

“Yes sir.”

After ten minutes, Commander Perro escorted Vullen to the door, did an about face and left. Vullen entered.

“Please General, take a seat.”

“I prefer to stand.” Vullen paused and said, “Captain Nariv, I sense deception . . . bitterness. Did I choose incorrectly in appointing you captain?”

Nariv stood to face him. “Of course I wanted my own command, but I cannot condone attrition through murder. You killed my captain.”

“I don’t tolerate insubordination. Captain Ondou’s interference jeopardized my mission.”

“Then we are in conflict because I don’t know what your mission is either. I have no clear-cut orders from headquarters about what your operation is. Even trying to send sub-space messages to get some kind of clarification would take forever. The only thing we were told was to extend our utmost courtesy to fulfill the needs of your mission.”

“That’s right, my needs.”

“That doesn’t preclude compromising the safety of this ship. You’ve brought dangerous substances on board and we’ve transported scientists here, experts in bomb design and fabrication. No wonder Captain Ondou felt concern, so do I.”

Vullen gazed at Nariv. “My KBS agents are integrated into the crew of the ThoPok. Tell your security team to lay down their arms; otherwise, everyone on the Bridge will die.”

Nariv’s jaw tightened with concern as he walked to the door and opened it witnessing a group of armed agents pointing weapons at his Bridge crew and the security team. They were suited in body armor with the infamous burning red circle insignia inside a black odd-looking triangular shape displayed on the sides of their shoulders. “How did you know about the security detail to arrest you?”

“I have little time to play games, Captain.”

Nariv looked at Security Chief Azell. “Drop your weapons and cooperate.” He closed the door and turned to Vullen. “All right, you have me at a disadvantage, what’s your proposal?”

“The Emperor and the empire will disavow any knowledge for my actions in this mission. If the Orion Alliance of Planets and their allies discover my plans and trace a line back to the Draconian Empire, there will be war. I need the use of this ship and its shuttles. It is pointless for me to fight a resistance on this ship and InterStellar Force agents too.”

“So, tell me the plan and maybe I can help.”

“Impossible, my mission may already be compromised by the only one on the planet that knows the details of my plan.”

“By that, you mean your brother, Drezdon. Captain Ondou filled me in on what little he knew. Why are you distressed about him? I know he’s human, but he is loyal to Draconian, is he not?”

Vullen gazed at the stars through the glass casement. “I’m not so sure anymore. I feel it. He may have rediscovered loyalty for his species.” He turned to face Nariv. “I am commandeering this ship, Captain.”

Nariv stood, his knuckles pressing against the desktop, his eyes glaring at Vullen. “This is an outrage. Explain, General!”

“It is part of my plan. When the Galactic Judicial League finds out about me seizing the ThoPok, they will be less likely to suspect the emperor and the Draconian Senate’s association with my mission.”

“There has to be more to it than that. Why would the empire be so squeamish about getting involved? We are Drac warriors. We always go after what we desire,” Nariv said with a clinched fist.

“It is not well known that the Draconian Empire has lost its supremacy from engaging in too many battles on too many fronts. The Drac military would not win a war with the Orion Alliance of Planets. I am acting alone on this mission as a rogue entity so that the emperor can officially deny any involvement. The empire needs massive resources from those planets in the Ortagian system. They require Earth as a strategic staging point to conquer those two worlds. Survival of Draconis depends on it.”

“Why Earth, why not Mars?”

“Mars would be too costly. Earth has an atmosphere, structures capable of manufacturing and  storage, places for ships to take off and land and it has the minimal natural resources we need already stockpiled.”

“After you do whatever you have planned, what makes you think the OAP will allow you to use the planet as a way station?”

“After a short period of waiting, the Draconian Senate will submit a formal ‘Exemption for Land Settlement’ application to the Galactic Justice League. Once the expansion of Drac habitation occurs on the surface and with the unlimited resources from the planets in the Ortagian system, no amount of force will displace the empire from Earth. I have told you more than I wish but not everything, and you will not breathe a word of this conversation, am I clear, Captain?”

“Very.”

“Make an entry into the ship’s log that I have taken command. My first officer Colonel Norrtar will be in command when I’m not onboard. You are confined to the Bridge, your office, your quarters and run this ship during normal operations and functions. But remember this, Captain, what I have told you is classified. If you deceive me, and I fail, I will act without reservation in destroying this ship and everyone on board.”

“Will you give me your solemn oath that my people will be treated well?”

“Only if there is no resistance, but do not press me further.” Vullen spoke into his wristband radio, “Commander Norrtar, come to the Bridge. I have promoted you to First Officer of this ship. The necessary triaftenite is in the shuttle bay storage room. Give it to the scientists and engineers for immediate fabrication. Captain Nariv will brief you on our agreement. I must return to the planet surface on other pressing matters.”

“On my way, sir.”

Triaftenite... What is he planning to do with that? Nariv mused.

Thirty-one

Mr. Fox entered the room, saying, “Please be seated.” He pulled the chair out at the head of the table and sat, glancing around, nodding his head with a narrow smile in a howdy-do gesture. “Excuse me for a moment.” He pushed the intercom button to call Bradley’s assistant. “Kaitlin, get POTUS on the line ASAP. Tell his assistant this concerns priority-one national security.”

“Yes, sir.”

Fox shuffled through documents from a file folder and looked at General Bradley, “Kaitlin has been doing double duty until I can hire my own assistant. She’s doing a fine job, General.”

“Thank you, Mr. Fox. She’s the best.”

“We’ll just have to give her a week’s vacation after I recruit someone.”

Kaitlin spoke over the phone’s intercom. “Sir, the president is on the line.”

Fox picked up the handset. “Mr. President, this is Mr. Fox at Toiyabe. Logan Pyke has informed me that the triaftenite has already been picked up. .... Yes sir, the green flag was there. .... Our informant didn’t have any idea when the delivery was scheduled. It was a long shot going there, but we felt it was worth a try. .... No sir, we’re not sure about our next move. We’re discussing our options at this very moment. .... I will, sir, the minute something develops. .... Yes sir, goodbye.”

“Mr. Fox, you have accumulated more background material on LeCertis Vullen than anyone out there,” Logan said. “You’ve studied him; you understand how he thinks. Can you give us an idea about what he might do next?”

Fox thought for a moment. “The main thing Vullen thrives on is the element of surprise, and he doesn’t like to lose that advantage. Right now, he knows he’s under suspicion, so expect the unexpected. Vullen is very crafty and he will become more unpredictable.

“Here’s an example; on the planet Grahgora, their intelligence discovered a plot to assassinate the royal leader. Months passed and nothing ever happened. Even though the threat never left the attention of security, they eased off thinking it must’ve been an idle threat. The royal leader was on a diplomatic trip to one of the Grahgorian moons. He and his entourage were being escorted by three battle cruisers. Without warning, all three cruisers exploded and the royal ship disappeared.”

“Did the enemy destroy that too?” Sims asked.

“No, there was no debris found. It just disappeared. Vullen exposed a false assassination plot through the underground network on the surface of the planet to force security to step up procedures for protecting the royal leader. Security deemed that an opposition extremist might attempt an assassination.

“Vullen crafted that diversion when in actuality he was planning the abduction in space. No one knows why or where their leader was taken. Some KBS agents think he was kidnapped for interrogation to find out specific secrets relating to a Grahgorian plot to assassinate a Bootean king.”

Fox glanced at his documents. “Okay, so much for Lord Vullen’s background. Here is what intelligence and Master Sergeant VanPelt has given us. The Draconian Empire wants no human interference once they begin setting up bases here on Earth. Vullen is planning on using four electromagnetic pulse bombs to knockout the world’s electric grid.

“Once this happens, the planet will come to a standstill. It’s estimated that nine out of ten humans will die. The Orion Alliance won’t have any legal hold on the Drac Empire because Vullen is carrying out the mission under the veil of secrecy. He will never admit to colluding with the Drac Emperor. Even though these facts come from reliable sources, none of this can be proven. He is a Setti and it would be dishonorable to divulge any information against the ones that hired him so he cannot be coerced, threatened, or forced to testify.”

“And Emperor Gortac will obviously maintain plausible deniability,” Logan said.

Bradley gazed around each person at the table, saying, “We have to assume then that Vullen has collected all the components he needs to build his EMP weapons. We must intervene, but how?”

“Why not take a squad of delta-wing StarVipers and blow the ThoPok into deep space,” Sims said.

“Without proof of any weapons of mass destruction on board the ThoPok, destroying her would cause a rift through the cosmos between the Alliance,” Fox said.

Logan leaned back into his seat and sighed, “And the ThoPok will be ready for that.”

“Yeah, Logan’s right,” Narrie said. “Their shuttles would be the most logical means to launch such a weapon.”

“The question is how can we find out if those bombs are even onboard the ThoPok,” Sims said.

Logan flashed his eyes at her with a smile. “Funny you should mention that.”

Sims frowned. “Oh, I don’t like the sound of that. What are you cooking up in your head for me this time?”

“Can you translocate through space?”

“What, are you crazy?”

“Stay with me for a minute. If we can get Antica Customs to go along, we can manufacture something to distract the Bridge of the ThoPok while you translocate and snoop around.”

“That may be difficult without a good reason,” Bradley said.

Mr. Fox snapped his finger. “Customs can tell the captain that there is an outbreak of the Tholusian Flu. Just say Antica’s CDC has reason to believe the flu is possibly being transported by ships visiting Earth in recent months. All you need to do is ask them for their flight plan registration number, and that it has to be checked out before we can clear the ThoPok to stay in this space.”

“Excellent,” Logan said. “Okay Sims, can you do it?”

“So, if I understand you correctly, you want me to relocate from one ship to another, and to do so I’d have to pass through the vacuum of space?”

“Yep,” Logan said.

“You are crazy... My molecules would disperse and float away. I need atmosphere, gravitational differentials and something to cling to,” she said reaching out with clinched fists, “it’s as much about physics as it is intuition.”

“Sims, how many times did you use the telephone wiring network when you came to heal me,” Dustin said.

“Well, check it out, Mr. Van SmartyPants, there are no telephone wires in space.”

“Ah, but when we dock alongside the ThoPok, a cable with a magnetic grappler can be shot to the other ship’s hull. Once the magnet grabs the skin of the Drac ship, you can travel through the metal line.” Dustin slapped the table with the palm of his hand. “Bingo, you’re in.”

“Brilliant,” Logan exclaimed with a wide smile, looking at Sims.

Sims frowned. “Brilliant huh, I wouldn’t go that far.”

“And, while the captain is waiting for us to check the status of his ship, you’ll sneak on board and gather the intel we need,” Narrie said.

She groaned.  “You always make everything sound so simplistic when you’re not the one being asked to do it.”

“Oh, come on, Simjase’akiza, be a trooper, do it for the cause, do it for the planet,” Narrie said.

Sims scowled. “Of course, do it for the planet you nut-job, why do you think I’m here...”

“Ooo-wee, are we getting a little testy?” He shook his finger at her. “You’re getting more human every day,” Narrie said with a smile.

“And you’re quite handsome when you smile, you should try it more often. You’re glum personality could use a boost of energy,” she said with a huff.

“I love you too Sims, you know that.”

“She glanced at him, her eyes squinting, wrinkling her nose in response, and grinned.

“Okay, we’ll work out the details later,” Logan said. “It’s lunch time and I’m buying.”

“I have to pass on that, besides I’m trying to lose my big belly. I favor the term beer-gut, but my wife insists on calling it my happy-flab and then she laughs at me. I just can’t grasp the humor in that,” Bradley said.

Sims gazed at him with a quizzical expression. “Happy flab? Well guess what, I don’t get it either.”

“I’m in.” Dustin moved next to her and whispered, “He loves to eat so there’s more fat around the stomach. It’s also called beer-belly and love-handles.”

Her right eyebrow rose on her forehead from the curious terms.

Logan nodded and looked at Sims. “How about you, do you want to go with us?”

Sims’ eyes widened. “Hey don’t look at me, I don’t need to sit there listening to a bunch of men sounding like cows chewing cud.”

“In the first place, Sims, we’re not cows,” Narrie said. “We’re bulls — there’s a difference, you know.”

“Oh, I’m sure of it, Narrie, but I think you’re thinking of bull-headed. That might be a better description for men with type-A personalities. And I won’t sleep a wink tonight with that image rushing through my head of you bulls chewing on your food.”

Laughs floated around the meeting table.

Mr. Fox chuckled, picked up his briefcase and headed to his office. “Let me know what approach you decide to go with, Logan.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, it’s just the three of us, let’s go,” Logan said. He turned to say something to Sims, but she had already left, disappearing like a popping soap bubble. He shook his head with envy. “Wish I could do that.”

Just when they were exiting the mountain to the parking lot, Logan’s phone chimed. He stopped and slipped it from its case. “Logan Pyke. .... Yeah, Lieutenant, we’re hanging in there. What do you have for me?” He looked at Narayanan and Dustin with sober eyes and motioned for them to hold up. “When did he arrive there? .... We should be in Antica by evening. .... If anything goes down, I’ll let you know. .... Thanks for the heads-up, Lieutenant Roberts, bye.”

Logan slipped the cell phone back in its holster, saying, “That was Inspector Roberts at Antica City. Someone reported Vullen back in town. We need to go there if nothing else but to show we’re still pursuing him, otherwise, he might get suspicious that we know more than what he thinks.”

“I wonder if he knows I’ve regained my memory, and I’m now standing against him,” Dustin said.

“That’s anybody’s guess. You stay in my apartment while we’re gone,” Logan said.

“For how long?”

“A few days. I don’t want you going anywhere or talking to anybody. Don’t even answer the phone.” He glanced at Narayanan. “Call Sims and get her back here, and give Tihbit a call.”

“What about the ThoPok?” Dustin asked.

“Mr.Fox has to meet with Customs and the Antica CDC. We’ll be back by the time he clears those channels.” Logan said.

Thirty-two

Antica City, 6PM

The UV lamps mounted on the cavernous ceiling of Antica City replicated natural sunlight. Computer control fades the lighting into gradual darkness giving the effect of having cyclical days and nights. It had turned dark out and the city architecture blossomed in a lightscape of brilliant colors. Logan and the others had settled into their rooms in the Hotel Taj Mahal in Alpha Tower. The group agreed to gather in the lobby within the hour. The object for a night on the town was to send a message to Lord Vullen that the ISF had not forgotten him.

Sims was the first to meet Tihbit waiting on a cushioned chair next to a sixty square foot glass pane window. “Did you call the missus?”

“Yes, we had a lengthy discussion about my visit with the Brazilian tribe. My family was curious about the tribal children and I told them that kids are kids no matter where you go in the galaxy. They weren’t very satisfied with that answer so I had to go into a lot of detail.”

Logan and Narayanan left the elevator and joined them.

“Are you guys ready to do some partying?” Logan said.

“Yeah, where are we going?” Tihbit asked with some enthusiasm.

Narayanan looked at Logan while answering Tihbit’s question. “Strinity Station... the last time we decided on going to the Betelgeuse Club.” Narrie looked back at Tihbit. “This time, I think we should visit the Andromeda Experience and have another adventure.”

Logan glanced at Sims. “What do you think?”

“Sounds like fun.”

Tihbit covered his eyes with his hands and groaned. “Not again... Are you insane?” He looked up at Logan, shaking his finger. “I guess you Neanderthals didn’t learn anything the last time you went into that district. Do you enjoy eating some magladon’s fist? I need to make you guys an appointment with an Asterl psychiatrist. These aliens have the ability to mind meld... you know, like Spock on Star Trek? There are no females in their race so that makes them the most frustrated males in the universe. You guys must certainly relate to that.”

“Oh yeah, I can relate to that after being in the big house,” Narrie said. “Go hail us a cab, Little Bit,” Narrie said.

“All right, but I will only say this once and please make a note of it. You’re a bunch of schmucks for going there.” He stopped at the main lobby door and turned to look at them. “Don’t just stand there looking like a bunch of schmucks... let’s go.”

They grinned at each other and followed him out. Within thirty minutes, the driverless cab made a left into the Strinity Station. Colorful flashing lights contrasted the darkness of night, beckoning nightclub partygoers while those seeking fortunes headed to the gambling casinos.

“Cab — stop,” Tihbit commanded and exited the cab. He met them on the sidewalk, mystified and looking up at them. “I’ll be out here sitting on pins and needles curiously waiting to see what condition you’re in when you all leave the club.” He watched them enter and shook his head.

Inside the club, Logan and Narrie went to find a table while Sims moved straight to the dance floor, her body gyrating to the heavy downbeat performed by Draconian musicians from the Capella System. At the moment, she consumed herself in the sonic vibrations from different instruments coming from the band. Sims could feel the bass beating against her chest and the downbeat of the percussionist controlling her every graceful move on the dance floor.

Logan and Narayanan sat at a corner table motioning the waitress over for a round of beer. As she approached the table, Logan held up two fingers. “Two beers.” She nodded and left to go get the order. Sims tirelessly worked the dance floor, dancing with whoever asked her. It was near the end of the band’s forty minute set as Logan and Narrie were finishing up their third round of beer.

“Damn, that Sims can really dance,” Narrie shouted over the noise and music. “She has the hips for it, I can tell you that.”

“She is quite beautiful, and she’s working hard at becoming human,” Logan said.

“That’s the beer talking.”

Logan gave him a sidelong glance with a grin. “I’ve only had three, my friend.”

“Well, you’re sounding a little loopy.”

“You’re telling me you don’t find her attractive?”

“Sure, in a doll-ish kind of way... like a picture in a magazine, but I want a flesh and blood woman, not someone that could simulate a woman.”

“Ah, but it’d be interesting to try.”

“Man, you surprise me sometimes, you’re more of a jock than I give you credit for.”

“It must be my Pleiadian hormones stirring up. You don’t get exposed to a fraction of what I do in the galaxy. I’ve met other ET females I’d date in a heartbeat.” Logan took a gulp of beer and saw the waitress heading their way with another round. “I guess it’s time to stir things up a bit.”

“Same plan as before?”

“Yeah, why not?”

“Here you are, two cold ones,” she said with a smile.

Logan showed her a gold token. “How would you like to keep the change?”

“Sure! What do I have to do for it?”

“That group of Draconians over there. Do you know them very well?”

“Well enough, I suppose. They come in here all the time.”

“Who is the toughest and meanest in the bunch?”

“Oh, that’s easy; it’s the one far to the left. He broke a patron’s arm last week just for staring at him. Hahrad is his name.”

“Get him, please. Tell him I need some information and I pay well.”

She smiled. “Of course you do.”

After she walked away, Narrie looked at Logan. “Do you have any pain pills handy?”

“No, why?”

“I’m usually the one that catches the brunt of your brilliant plans.”

“Here he comes.”

The Drac pulled out a chair and sat.

“Have a seat,” Narrie said.

When the Drac spoke, the translator on the table automatically energized. “Do you have something to say to me, human?”

“I’m Logan and this is Narayanan.” Logan pulled out his badge. “We are ISF Agents. We need information and we will pay.”

Hahrad growled, snarling his lips. “I hate ISF agents more than I hate humans.”

Logan slammed a roll of gold tokens on the table. “Does this ease your disdain a little?”

“What information do you need so badly that you must pay so much?”

“Lord Vullen.”

Hahrad stood, pushing the chair across the floor with the backs of his knees. “Why should I betray a Draconian hero?”

Narayanan stood, placed his fists on the table and looked Hahrad in the eyes. “I thought you hated humans.”

“I do hate them, but what does that have to do with General Vullen?”

Narrie sat, never taking his eyes off the Drac. “Because he is human.”

“You lie!”

“Have you ever seen what’s behind that mask?”

“Vullen is Draconian and a Setti of the Black Suns. He honors all Draconans.”

Narrie grinned at him and then his expression went surly. “You are a liar you wrinkled face, bug eating, cold-blooded, squiggly reptile.”

“Incoming,” Logan whispered to himself and guzzled his beer.

Hahrad screamed at the ceiling, raised both arms and smashed them into their table, forcing Logan and Narayanan to fall backward in their chairs.

Tihbit waited by the door when it suddenly burst open and two bodies flew out, rolling hard on the concrete.

Logan was on his belly, panting. “I don’t think he cottoned to being called a bug eater.”

“I think he has a self-esteem issue. His face is a little too wrinkled for a Drac,” Narrie groaned, lying on his side. “Do you think we made an impression well enough to get back to Vullen?”

“If we didn’t, that was a hell of a price to pay with my body. Did you grab the gold tokens?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get to finish my beer.”

“I chugged mine when I saw you pissing him off,” Logan said with a groan.

Tihbit approached the two, hunching over to face them lying on the ground, grimacing. “Well, if I was into betting against the odds, I would be rich.”

Narayanan rose, resting his weight on his elbow. “Call us a cab.”

Tihbit pointed his tiny finger. “Case in point, you guys do things the hard way — that’s why you are a couple of schmucks.”

Narayanan rolled over and glanced at Logan. “In this case, I tend to agree with him.”

Logan pushed himself up to go get Sims. “We have to get ready to impersonate Customs’ agents for the ThoPok battle cruiser tomorrow.

“Say, how’re we going to get Sims out of there without causing a ruckus. We’ve already worn out our welcome. Why don’t you go in there and get her,” Logan said.

“I ain’t going back in there, not after calling Hahrad a wrinkled face, bug eating, cold-blooded, squiggly reptile. I’m the one that got punched remember?”

They both looked at Tihbit flagging down a cab and shouted, “Hey Tihbit, come here!”

Thirty-three

Salat radioed Space Control Center for instructions on lifting off the tarmac ship parking area. “This is Antica Shuttle Three-Victor-Six awaiting clearance for passage through Artery B to the surface.”

“Three-Victor-Six, you are cleared to ascend to the surface,” the air traffic controller replied.

Salat pressed the intercom button. “Logan, we are go for ascent. When we reach zero-gee, I will initialize artificial gravity and you’ll be free to move around the cabin.”

Logan glanced at Narayanan. “Well, here we go, let’s hope the ThoPok doesn’t get too suspicious.”

“If they do, it’ll be a quick trip to the morgue.”

“We won’t make it to the morgue; we’ll be floating in outer space.” Logan unfolded a schematic layout of the ThoPok. They studied it for a few moments when Dustin pointed to a particular section. “Here’s the spot on the outside skin of the ship where the magnetic grappler should be attached.”

“Will they sense it?” Sims asked.

“They may hear a slight thump but it’s likely they’ll mistake it for an interior hatch actuator. The sounds are similar,” Dustin said.

“How do you know so much about ships?” Narrie asked.

“When I volunteered to work with the Drac Air Force, I became intrigued with flying. After I earned the confidence and trust from a couple of commanders, they helped me enlist into the Academy. I started out on small cargo ships and worked my way up to fighter-pilot, but I wasn’t allowed in combat with the Drac enlistees. I was involved in several battles before accepting the mission to come here.”

Narrie shot him a puzzled look. “You just said you weren’t allowed to fly in combat.”

“Not as a fighter pilot but I piloted troop transports, however, while at Toiyabe, I was simulation-certified for the U.S. NSA’s Grumman’s delta-wing StarViper. That ship is nothing more than a re-engineered version of the Draconian Vykra.”

“We may need your service,” Logan said.

Dustin nodded and looked at the layout to continue. “Okay, so once Salat pulls up next to the ThoPok, Logan will communicate with the captain of the Drac ship. In the meantime, we’ll shoot the magnetic grappler attached to this six-gauge braided copper wire to the small cargo hold on the ThoPok.”

“Keep some slack on that thing so it doesn’t get yanked off while I’m transferring over,” Sims said.

“No worries,” Narrie said.

Dustin ran his finger on the blueprint along a main support going vertical. “Two decks up will put you in a storage compartment that opens up into a hallway. You want to go aft, past the chow hall and a distribution area where clothing, hygiene, and other stores are located. You’ll come to a stairway on the right that’ll take you up to a wide corridor where you’ll turn right. Go past the Vykra Fighter Wing hangar, and the labs will be on the other side of that. Last I saw any activity was in Lab Station Four.”

“And what am I looking for?” Sims asked.

“A bomb, you’re looking for a bomb,” Logan said with a huff.

“Obviously I’m looking for a bomb, Agent Pyke,” she growled with impatience, “but there are many kinds of bombs. Only four of them will be labeled ‘EMP destined to destroy the human population of Earth. I need to know how to identify those.”

“She’s right,” Dustin sighed. “There will be five bombs. The four that are required and one for backup just in case one of the four malfunctions. Since they are not being released at low altitude, they won’t be cylindrical with fins but more spherical.

“It’ll be blue with yellow Draconian text around the center circumference. The most telling feature will be a glass tube six inches in diameter by four inches high at the top. The tube contains a red granular mineral; that will be the triaftenite.”

“Remember what General Bradley told us,” Logan said. “If you get caught surveilling the ship without a court order, it might create a rift in the cosmos. War may come to the Orion Alliance of Planets and our allies. This world may not survive it.”

Narayanan leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Not to put any pressure on you, but you’d better not screw up.”

She turned to him, frowning, giving him her best expression of annoyance. “Thanks Narrie, that’s very comforting.”

“Sims, you’re going to do fine,” Logan said. “I have the utmost confidence in you.”

Salat’s voice sounded over the intercom. “We are within proximity of the ThoPok.”

“On my way,” Logan said. He stood to go to the cockpit and leaned over to whisper in Sims’ ear, “Good luck and stay safe.” He pulled away to look her in the eyes. “For me.” He made his way to the seat next to Salat and buckled in.

“It’s all yours, boss,” Salat said.

“I spoke with Captain Dozier at the Antica Customs Department; he gave me permission to use his name.” Logan inputted the proper frequency and pressed the squawk button. “ThoPok, this is Antica Customs’ shuttle three-victor-six. Do you copy?”

“I am receiving your transmission shuttle three-victor-six. State your business,” the translated voice came back.

“This concerns security document alpha tango six thirty-one dash delta. I must speak to your captain about an urgent matter.”

“The captain is busy at the moment. Come back later.”

“Very well, I will call for a warrant to come aboard your ship. I’ll be bringing a security detail with me.”

There was fifteen seconds of silence. Salat looked at him with a ‘what now’ expression.

A translation came back. “This is Captain Nariv, how may I be of service?”

“Greetings Captain, sorry to take you away from important work, but we recently got word of an outbreak of Tholusian flu in the past month. This health emergency requires us to check every ship’s flight plan history to verify the locations of ships during the last sixty-day period. Please upload that document to the address I’m sending you now.”

“This ship has been nowhere near Tholusia.”

“Captain Nariv, these are priority-one requirements of all alien craft parked above Earth. Certainly, you do not wish to break treaty regulations. If you don’t comply, security forces will escort you beyond the orbit of Earth’s moon. Do you understand, sir?”

“Before doing so, I am required to confirm your identity and code for security clearance. Give it to me.”

“I am Captain Charles Dozier, ID code 4071098 on shuttle craft three-victor-six. I’ll await your transmission of your ship’s flight plan record. Once I receive it, it will take up to an hour to analyze and record my findings. I will notify you when we leave your proximity.”

“Very well, Captain.”

Logan rose and went back to see if Sims was ready. “This is better than I expected. The captain of the ThoPok is confirming our security code. This’ll give us a bit more time. Okay, Sims, do your thing.”

Sims reduced herself into a hazy outline of her body contour and then vanished, traveled through the copper wire and relocated in the cargo hold of the ThoPok. She gazed around to get a lay of the land and found the metal vertical support in the far left corner. Molecules scrambled in a vortex–like circle reshaping her appearance into a male Draconian soldier.

At first, Sims impersonated a high-ranking officer, but decided an officer would be too conspicuous, easily recognized by the crew. She changed the officer insignias to chevrons of a common soldier and relocated to the storage compartment two levels above her location. She followed the directions Dustin gave where she stopped in front of Lab Station Four. A guard met her the instant she passed through the door.

“State your business here, soldier.”

“My supervisor sent me to check the labs for trash collection. I just need to take a quick look so we know what size container to bring,” Sims replied in Draconian.

“Go ahead but don’t touch anything.”

“I won’t.” Sims walked around looking in the trashcans and scanned for anything resembling a bomb. There was nothing but empty space. She left and walked to Lab Station One where she witnessed three scientists working on something not resembling a bomb. After surveilling the area and finding nothing, she went to Lab Station Two. Scientists and technicians were working on the bomb Dustin described. She snapped a few photos from a hidden camera in her uniform lapel and walked over to a large trashcan, opened the lid and peered inside. A voice called from behind.

“Hey soldier, what are you doing? You need a security clearance to be in here.”

“Sorry sir, my supervisor sent me down to check on trash removal.”

“I’ll have to escort you, and you will need to be searched before you leave.”

“Very well, can I check the barrels in the next room?”

“All right, but hurry,” he said.

He led her into another room where four blue spherical bombs sat, each with the red glass tube mounted on top. She walked to a trashcan acting aggravated at being there. “It’s bad enough that I have to do my job, but when I have to do someone else’s, it gets on my nerves. I have more important things to do than checking trash cans.”

The escort gazed around the room exhibiting some impatience. “Uh huh, just get it done and leave.”

She turned to face the four bombs and took six shots from her lapel camera. When she looked over at her escort, he was on a communication device discussing something about an unauthorized individual being in a classified area. She suspected she was about to get fingered. Near the entranceway appeared to be a closet door; she walked to it.

“Hey you — stop,” her escort ordered. The shout brought more attention to the location with four other guards rushing toward her. She stepped into the closet, closed the door and used a particle beam weapon to damage the door latch.

“Somebody call the Bridge,” the escort shouted.

“What’s going on, Taybaum,” an associate asked.

“I think we’ve just been compromised by a spy. That soldier said his supervisor sent him to check for trash pickup. I called the manager in charge and he has no idea who this maintenance person is.”

“Vullen will be furious,” said an engineer.

“The chief of security is here. Let him through,” someone shouted from the crowd.

“We chased him in here,” Taybaum said. “He locked himself in.”

“Stand back,” the chief growled and raised his weapon, blasting the door latch. The officer opened the door. It was empty.

“Where did he disappear to?” Taybaum gasped. “He was in there. Five of us chased him there. Where could he have gone?”

A message was piped out to every corner of the ship. Intruder alert, deck two, lab station area. It kept repeating while security and soldiers rushed around trying to locate the trespasser.

Thirty-four

Logan paced in front of the grappling cable, glancing at the clock on the computer screen.   “What’s taking her so long? Sims should’ve been back by now. I hope she didn’t get entangled with security over there.”

“Don’t worry, Chief, that woman is very resourceful,” Narrie said.

“Sims is not impervious to injury, you know.”

“The ship has six Lab Stations and they have to move the devices depending on what has to be fabricated. Sims may’ve had to go to each one,” Dustin said.

Without warning, a Drac soldier appeared before them, and for a sliver of a moment, it took them by surprise.

“Whoa!” Narrie yelped as each one grabbed the butt of their weapon, ready to pull it and shoot.

“It’s me — Sims!” she shouted.

“Thank God, are you all right,” Logan said.

“Yeah, I’m fine, they almost caught me.”

“What happened?”

“Nobody bothered me until I went to Lab Station Two, which was where the bombs were. I took pictures. My escort became suspicious and called the security supervisor. They chased me into a closet where I locked myself in and translocated back here.”

Dustin clinched his fist and smiled, “Way to go, Sims.”

Narrie grinned. “Did you pop in looking that way to get a rise out of us?”

“No, the pictures I took are in this reptilian form. If I had changed back to my human form, the photos may have been erased. After I download them, I can change back.”

Narayanan waved his hand in front of his nose. “Jeeze woman, you even smell like one of them.”

“It’s called being authentic. So, what would you have me do, wear Lady in Ecstasy perfume and blow my cover?”

Logan studied her head to toe. “You are one ugly son of a—”

“Don’t say anymore unless you want me to cut your tongue out,” she said in an irritable tone.

Narrie looked at her for a few moments and then at Dustin. “I think it’s an improvement.”

“Hey, don’t get me in the middle of this.”

“Narrie!” she scoffed. “You take that back, you’ve just insulted my feminine sensibilities.”

“Let’s get those pictures downloaded,” Logan said.

Sims walked to the computer and pulled the pea-sized camera from her lapel. “We’d best hurry and leave, the ship is on alert status; they’re going nuts over there.”

“No, if we go too soon it’ll make us look anxious.” Logan glanced at Dustin. “Rewind the cable.”

After the pictures were downloaded and printed out, each one studied them realizing the overwhelming gravity of the situation, and the awesome power that each device will produce.

Sims looked at Logan. “I overheard a couple of them talking while they worked on one of the devices. They seemed uneasy about having to meet a deadline, and I get the impression it’s very soon.”

“Great job, Sims.” Logan looked at his watch. “Well, I think it’s time to part with our Drac friends. You guys buckle up and after I finish my business with the ThoPok, we’ll head back to Antica City. I’ll email these to Mr. Fox on a secured line.” Logan went to the cockpit and sat next to Salat.

“Did Sims do well?”

“Sims did well, my friend.” Logan pressed the transmitter button to the ThoPok. “This is Antica shuttle three-victor-six.”

“State your business, three-victor-six,” the voice replied.

Logan heard sirens in the background and glanced at Salat with a raised eyebrow, speaking off-mike, “A little distressed, aren’t they.” He pressed the mike button. “Are those alert sirens going off in the background? Is there a problem?”

There was a long pause. “No, it’s just a minor reactor leak from one of the engines.”

“Sounds serious, do you need help?” he said, attempting to sound sincere.

“We do not require assistance, it is being repaired.”

“Very well, my office has reviewed your documentation and they cleared you to remain where you are. Thank you for your cooperation.”

There was no response.

Narrie had some extra time and went to visit Atryn and the family. He knocked on the door and Della answered. “Agent Narayanan, what brings you here? Are we in trouble again?”

“Now Della, I’m disappointed. I came all the way out here to make sure you guys were doing okay, and you jump to conclusions.”

A perplexed expression drew across her face. “Pardon me, Agent Narayanan, what do you mean by jump to conclusions?”

“Narrie, my friends call me Narrie.”

“Oh... Narrie, jumping to conclusions is a non sequitur. Jumping is a form of locomotion in which an organism propels itself through the air along a ballistic trajectory. Example: I can jump a fence, jump over a ditch, or jump through a hoop so how do I jump a conclusion?”

“It’s just an expression, Della, it’s not physical. Some may say ‘she concluded’ or ‘he arrived at a conclusion,’ see?”

“Ah, Earth human vernaculars can be confusing. I will endeavor to do better.”

“You are doing just fine. Is Atryn here?”

“Why of course, sir, she is feeding Teako, I will get her.” Della disappeared into the baby’s room.

“Narrie!” Atryn squealed with a wide smile and hurried toward him. “I’m so glad you came to see us.”

Before he realized it, she had him in a full embrace, her soft body pressing against his. Narrie backed away a little and grinned. “Well, the boss gave us the night off so I figured it would be a good time to come by and see how things are going.”

“Thanks to you, we’re doing just fine.” Atryn grasped him by the hand and led him to the couch. “Come sit. My, you look so handsome in those jeans and black jacket.” After they sat, she turned sideways to face him. “Teako seems to have adjusted well to this place and we’ve made some good friends here. Elgen, next door, does most of the shopping for us, and Mr. Roufer comes over when we need some minor maintenance done on the house. So, what’ve you been up to since you left?”

“Oh, the usual dull stuff . . . you know, work and such.”

Atryn’s eyes darkened into a shadowy angst. “Did you get him?”

Narayanan hesitated and gazed at the floor, shaking his head.

Atryn stood, crossed her arms, walked to the window, and gazed out into the distance. “We’ll never be free, not as long as Vullen is alive.” She turned to him, misty eyed. “Oh, Narrie, how am I going to raise Teako if I’m constantly looking over my shoulder?”

He patted the couch for her to sit. “Atryn, try to understand the mindset of someone like Vullen. Is he vengeful? Of course, but not over small potatoes... uh, not that you are small potatoes but —”

She looked at him in bewilderment. “What are you saying, Narrie?”

“Sorry, he only goes after those that can harm his purpose, his mission, and the ones that can interfere with his plans. If he was going to expend the time, expense and energy to come after you, he wouldn’t have stopped with the attack at the tower where you work.”

“What if the chameleons come after us again?”

“They failed... It’s over. At that time, Vullen sent those mercs to find out what you know.”

“So, they weren’t out to kill us?”

“I didn’t say that — they might have, but Vullen knows it does no good to dwell on something that no longer affects him. Whatever harm you may have done is over. Revenge without reward is a waste of his time.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

“Tell you what, I’ll talk to Logan about getting you into the Witness Protection Program. They’ll set you up with new histories, new identities and a new life. It’ll all work out, I promise.”

Atryn wore a painful smile, leaned over and hugged him. “How can I ever repay you?”

“For starters, take me to see my little partner.”

“Sure.” She rose and led him toward the baby’s room.

Narrie noticed her purse on the kitchen counter, reached into his jacket pocket and dropped two rolls of gold tokens into the open top. He followed her through the door and leaned over the crib, smiling. “There’s my buddy,” he said reaching down and picked him up. “You’ve grown a couple of inches since I saw you last.” Narrie glanced at Atryn. “I can’t believe I’ve bonded with a baby. Never thought that’d ever happen.”

Teako looked back at him with a gassy, irritated frown.

“Uh oh, I recognize that look.” Narrie turned his head, squeezed his eyes shut, and waited for it, but all he heard was a dry, healthy belch. He looked at Atryn with eyes wide and groaned, “Whew, a dud.” Without warning, the spew shot out volcano style, soaking the front of his shirt with a yellowish, chunky slime. Narayanan’s expression went passive. “Did he just do what I think he did... again?”

“Oh Narrie, I’m so sorry.” She faced the doorway and shouted, “Della, get a damp towel, hurry.”

He looked Teako in the eye and moaned, “Hey my little friend, did you forget our talk. I thought we had an understanding.” He gazed down at his shirt as though he bit into a sour lemon. “You’re just determined to get me, aren’t you?”

Teako laughed, flailing his arms and kicking his feet.

Atryn howled with laughter.

Della rushed in, concerned after hearing the commotion, noticing her laughing so hard she could hardly catch her breath. “Is everything all right, ma’am?”

“Take Teako,” Narrie said.

Della set the damp towel on the table and laid the baby back in the crib.

Atryn stood, picked up the towel, started wiping his jacket, and giggled. “Teako doesn’t do that very often. He really likes you, you know.”

“If that’s liking me, I’d hate to see what he’d do if he hated me.”

“I know his mannerisms and his expressions, his eyes light up when you hold him. He just got a little overly excited,” she said, smiling. “Next time, I’ll have you wait a while after he eats.”

Della left and came back with a fresh shirt. “Sir, since Teako has a propensity of regurgitating on you, we thought you might need this.”

“Thanks, Della, I’ll go wash up and change.” After ten minutes, he found Atryn leaning over the crib and Della standing next to her. Narrie went to the other side and looked down at Teako. “Okay, young man, we’re going to wait awhile for another talk.” He leaned over, pointing his ear toward the baby’s mouth. “What’d you say? Pizza and a beer?” Narrie glanced at Atryn. “Did you hear that? Are you giving this baby beer at his age?”

“No, of course not.” Atryn leaned over the crib, putting her ear close to the baby’s mouth. “That’s not what he said. He wants to go for pizza and get you a beer.”

“Oh, okay.”

Della gazed at them in bewilderment. “Ma’am, he is too young to talk, how are you communicating with him?”

Atryn laughed. “Just fooling around, Della, get the baby ready.”

“If you wish, I can stay here with Teako while you and agent Narayanan go out.”

“No, I insist you come along, Della,” Narrie said.

Atryn smiled with approval. “Are we going back to the Novara Restaurant?”

“Unless you know someplace better.”

“Nope, it’ll be nice to get out.”

“I’ve got a rental.”

“No, let’s walk, it’s not that far. I enjoyed that. Rain isn’t due for another eight hours yet.”

“How often does the moisture collect on the ceiling and condensates?”

About every four to six days.” Atryn turned to pick up her purse and looked at Della, “Don’t forget the bottle.”

“I won’t, ma’am.”

This purse is awful heavy, feels like it’s full of bricks. Atryn reached in, pulled out the rolls of gold tokens, gasped and stared at Narayanan, “Oh, I can’t take this.”

“Sure you can.”

“You’ve helped us enough already.”

“I insist, anyway it was mine to spend as I deem necessary, and I officially deemed this necessary. Besides, I want you to stay put until we can get you settled somewhere.”

“Thank you so much, Narrie, for everything. Now let’s go, I want to enjoy this night. I’m hungry and I’m buying.”

Narrie grinned. “Great, that means I can have two beers.”

Thirty-five

Toiyabe Base: Operation Orion Spear

General Bradley walked to the podium. “I have briefed all of you on the mission parameters. There will be additional information and training going forward. I want to reemphasize that this operation is classified and should not be discussed with anyone outside this immediate group.

“You are prohibited from going anywhere off-base during training exercises. We may have to go on a moment’s notice and we’ll only have one shot at this. ISF Agent Logan Pyke has been heading up the investigation on General Vullen. I’m turning this over to him.”

Logan walked to the front of the room. “A few days ago, Simjase’akiza went aboard the ThoPok and verified that the EMP bombs are onboard. Sims also verified that the ship has seven shuttles and twenty-two Drac Vykra fighter spacecrafts. It’s been determined that four shuttles will carry the EMPs, one shuttle will carry the spare EMP bomb and three Vykras will escort each shuttle.”

“Sir, what if the Dracs send more escorts?” a pilot asked.

“I’ll take this one,” General Bradley said. “There will be six additional StarVipers on-call to back up Colonel Gordon’s Rangers if needed.” Logan turned his attention back to the group. “Two thousand one hundred nautical miles from the ThoPok is the Kehtean battleship Creotis. We’ve gained permission to use their bays to launch an attack on the Drac’s shuttles carrying the EMPs. Eighteen StarVipers, two shuttle crafts, a full complement of a support crew and materials were moved to the Creotis little by little over this past month.”

Another pilot raised his hand. “If we have definitive evidence of an attack with weapons of mass destruction, why don’t we just blow the ThoPok to smithereens?”

“First, that would start an all out war with the Draconians and its allies,” Fox said. “Think of it this way, it’s the same principle when rogue countries on Earth develop nuclear weapons; we know they have them but there is nothing we can do unless they put their threats into action. And like those rogue countries, even if we get a court order to board the ship for search and seizure, there is no way we can prove intent. The worse that’ll happen is that the authorities would force the ThoPok to leave Earth’s space for harboring illegal, dangerous weapons. It’ll only stir up a diplomatic hornet’s nest which will eat up valuable time in the courts and Vullen will come back to try again later with a different approach.”

“The instant those shuttles leave the bay, they will register radiation levels we can detect. Then we’ve got them,” Bradley said. “Okay, those StarViper pilots assigned to Colonel Gordon’s Ranger group will be commissioned to the Creotis battleship that’s in a geo-stationary orbit above Wyoming. There, you will conduct training exercises in ten-hour periods each day. I want you so in-tune with your spacecraft that you can operate it blindfolded.” He glanced around the room. “Any questions? — None? Good luck and I’ll turn the podium over to Colonel Gordon.”

Gordon walked to the podium and gazed around the room. “We’ve maintained a tight surveillance on the ThoPok, and the second our sensors pick up traces of radioactivity, Operation Orion Spear will begin. The 68th Scorpion Group will launch from the 431st Apex StarViper Fighter Wing stationed at the Ira Hayes NSA Base in the Sonoran Desert, Arizona. It’s their job to attack the ThoPok. They’ll keep the bulk of their Vykra fighters busy protecting their battle cruiser while my Rangers go after the EMP shuttles.

“We already know the importance of this operation and the consequences if it goes badly. What we need to do is build a high level of confidence as individuals and as a team. I want you to push yourselves even harder than I’m going to push you. Concentrate on your job, work hard and trust each other. With God’s good grace, we will put a ‘V’ in the victory column when this is over. Let’s board the shuttles and go to work, our job starts now.”

The rustling of chairs and mumblings floated over the room as the group filed out toward the Toiyabe elevators. There, they will leave for the bottom level to ride the subway train to the mountain shuttle bay where they will be transported to the battleship Creotis.

Dustin carried his flight helmet under his arm wearing a somber smile as he approached Logan. “I just wanted to say good luck to you guys. I never thought of praying before returning to Earth. When I rediscovered my humanity in Sausalito, California, I found out how important it is. I pray that everything goes well for your team and mine.” He smiled and reached out to shake hands. “Good luck, Logan.”

“And to you, my friend.”

Dustin moved to Mr. Fox, Narayanan, then to Sims and General Bradley, shook hands, turned and left the room to catch up with his squadron.

Logan walked back to the podium. “Okay, those of you that are left will be in the second phase of Operation Orion Spear. I want to welcome members of SEAL Team Five. We have been assigned to go aboard the ThoPok while it is engaging our flyboys from the 431st.”

Logan turned on the video projector that showed a photo of the EMP device that Sims took. “This is what their bomb looks like. It’s spherical, blue with yellow markings around the circumference and has a red colored glass tube on the top. The shuttle we are after has the spare EMP device in case one of the other four malfunctions.

“If one bomb does fail and we have extracted the spare EMP from the ThoPok, at least one quadrant of Earth will survive an electromagnetic pulse. As a side benefit, we can take the device to Patterson Air Force base where it can be reverse engineered and analyzed for future defense purposes. It’s our job to storm the ThoPok’s shuttle bay, commandeer that shuttle and fly it the hell out of there.  Betty Moseley, call-sign Betty Boop, will fly the shuttle from the ThoPok. Mosley has experience on rescue missions behind enemy lines, and she is trained on a Draconian shuttle craft.”

A round of applause resounded for Betty.

Logan pulled up pictures and schematic layouts of the Draconian battleship. “At this point, the 431st will be engaged with the ThoPok. When we make our approach, our fighter escort will take out these gun turrets on the aft section here and here. There is an external hatch forty yards from the shuttle bay doors. We will use a universal docking mechanism to link-up with the external hatch. This will allow us to transfer from our shuttle to their battle cruiser without having to wear space suits. On the other side of the hatch is a hallway that leads to their shuttle bay.

“Once that hatch falls away, expect resistance, we will be at our most vulnerable then. Sgt. Ross and Corporal Smalley will deploy the handheld metal shields in the open hatchway to give us a temporary measure of protection. After we have neutralized resistance in the hallway, Sergeant Orcutt will take point and lead us down this corridor until we reach the shuttle bay. There should only be three shuttles remaining.

“After we clear the shuttle bay of any threats, Betty, O’Neil, and Ross will each take a shuttle to see which one contains the EMP device. The one that finds it will radio the team and give us a heads-up. In the meantime, I will bolt all doors leading from the corridor to the bay. Narrie, I want you to make sure the safety interlock is off on the bay doors so that we can open it from inside the shuttlecraft. General Bradley will oversee ops. Would you care to say a word, sir?”

“No, I believe everybody knows what their job is.”

“Questions?”

“An arrow couldn’t be any straighter, Agent Logan. We are ready to rock,” a member of the Seal team said, bump fisting with a couple of his compatriots next to him.

“All right then, exercises will begin at zero eight hundred hours tomorrow.”

Everyone left except Narrie and Sims who approached Logan.

“You guys got any plans tonight?” Logan asked.

“Nope,” Narrie said.

“Exercises start tomorrow. This is our last night of freedom. A club thirty-five miles from here has good drink, good eats, and plenty of dancing. I figure if we get there around six, have a couple of beers, we can be back by nine to get ready to start training tomorrow. Interested?”

Narayanan got the feeling he’d be in one of those threes-a-crowd situations. He stretched his arms out and yawned. “Every time I get near a nightclub with you, I get the hell beat outta’ me. I think I’m going to my room and stretch out.”

“Well, it’s you and me, Sims, whaddaya say?”

Sims gave him a flirtatious smile. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Sure, I suppose it—

“Give me an hour to get ready.”

“Aw come on, Sims, you can be ready with a snap of your finger. Why do you have to go through some female ritual?”

Sims smiled. “It’s the anticipation. How many times have you told me to appear human? Well, I have to shower, put on a little makeup, do my hair, and get dressed... I enjoy doing it.”

Logan shook his head and smiled. “And this coming from someone who thinks traveling in a car is the same as riding on a Roman chariot — women...”

Sims glared at him out the corner of her eyes.

“Are amazing! Women are amazing,” Logan said with a quickened smile.

Toiyabe: Ten days later, 3:35 pm

General Bradley’s phone rang. “Yes, Kaitlin.”

“Colonel Gordon is on the line, sir.”

“Patch him through.” A few seconds passed. “What’s up, Colonel?”

“Our surveillance satellite picked up increased activity around the ThoPok. It appears that four shuttles and ten Vykra fighters are running exercises. Our sensors are not detecting any minute traces of higher than normal radioactivity in that sector. That tells me that the EMP devices are not onboard those shuttles.”

“I’m going to yellow alert. Everybody is to be on standby and ready for go. Keep me updated.”

“Yes sir.”

“Just as he hung up the phone, Logan walked through the door.

“Sorry it took awhile to get here, General, I’ve been tied up at Intelligence.”

“Not a problem, how are the drills going?”

“Very well, sir, we ran into some kinks we didn’t expect so we created an exact mockup of the ThoPok’s hallway and shuttle bay. That helped a lot. After we got things smoothed out, everything has been going like clockwork.”

“Keep up the good work. This morning Mr. Fox received a highly classified dispatch from Intelligence. It detailed communications somewhere in our solar system between the ThoPok and an unknown source we can’t identify or trace.”

Logan felt his expression tightening with concern and sat. “In a nutshell, what’s it about?”

“Something to do with confirming a space freighter arriving at an unspecified designated time and place. The analysts believe it could be some form of backup for Vullen. It may be additional Vykra fighters or supplies. I also sent this to Colonel Gordon.”

“Interesting....”

“Speaking of Colonel Gordon, I just got a call from him just before you walked in. The ThoPok’s shuttles and Vykra fighter escorts are performing exercises. We are on yellow alert. I have a temporary office right next to Ops. I’ll be there twenty-four/seven until the situation dictates otherwise.”

Just as Bradley was about to say something else, Fox walked into his office. “I just spoke with POTUS and his Joint Chiefs. We have rethought the strategy of a court ordered search and seizure on the ThoPok. POTUS has conferred with other powerful nations and the consensus is to serve the court order. At this point, we have no idea when Vullen will trigger his attack so the thinking here is if he feels cornered, he will show his hand. He will have forty-eight hours for a Drac representative to dispute the court order. If he elects this option, he will more than likely give the order to detonate the bombs at some point within that time period. We will be ready for him.”

“What basis will the Antica City Judge authorize such a court order? You know how strict Harmon is at following the letter of the law. He’ll want to state that there are weapons of mass destruction on board,” Bradley said.

“With Sims’ signed affidavit of probable cause stating her eyewitness account on discovering and photographing the EMP devices, I believe he’ll go along,” Fox said. “Besides, rather than come right out and say we know they have bombs on board, we’ll say Antica Customs suspects the ThoPok of transporting illegal minerals.”

Bradley weighed in on another thought. “Hmm, they’re going to be very wary after having two Custom’s ships hail them within such a short period of time. You know how Dracs are if they feel boxed in; it may get dangerous.”

“It’s a necessary chance we have to take, it’ll get them thinking — maybe it’ll make Vullen a little anxious too,” Fox said.

Logan gave him a dry chuckle. “After hearing Dustin talk about Vullen, I doubt anything would make his blood pressure rise even a half a point.”

“We’ll see,” Bradley uttered with a twisted smile. His phone rang; he picked it up, speaking into the handset, “Hold on a second, Mr. Lester, he’s standing right here.” He looked at Logan. “Return to your team and good luck.”

“Yes sir, and to us all.”

Bradley handed the phone to Fox. “It’s Mr. Lester.”

Fox pressed the speaker button and hung up the handset. “This is Fox, General Bradley is with me.”

“Just got your message, how may I be of service, sir.”

“I need to expedite that court order from Judge Harmon ASAP.”

“Inspector Davies spoke to the judge and he’s received preliminary approval. It should be signed, sealed and delivered by eighteen hundred hours your time. Davies will leave shortly thereafter. Two StarViper fighters will escort his shuttle to the ThoPok. According to ET enforcement regulations, all space flights by ETs must cease by 10 pm Antica time. Davies’ shuttle will brake near the front of the Bridge at 10:05. We feel confident that all ships and personnel will be onboard the battle cruiser by that time.”

“Keep me informed,” Fox said.

“I will, sir.”

Bradley disconnected the call. “Well, Mr. Fox, here it begins.”

At 8:45pm, Inspector Davies’ ship reached outer geostationary orbit heading toward the ThoPok. At 9:05pm, a bright star-like reflection appeared in front of him. “There she is,” the pilot said. After another ten minutes, he could make out the massive size and shape of the battle cruiser. Davies pressed the call button. “ThoPok, this is Customs Agent Davies in spacecraft Seven-Charlie-Niner on approach. Do you copy?” There was no response. He repeated and hesitated for a response. “Do you copy? . . . Come back, ThoPok.” Davies looked at his pilot. “Do you get the impression we are being ignored?”

“Sure looks that way.”

“Pull to a halt in front of their Bridge.”

The pilot energized reverse thrusters and drifted in front of the ship.

“ThoPok, this is spacecraft Seven-Charlie-Niner. I can see activity on your bridge but you are not responding. Are you experiencing technical difficulties? If so, press your ping button three times.”

“We are not experiencing technical difficulties. What is it you want?”

“I need to speak to Captain Nariv.”

“The captain is unable to come to the Bridge at the moment. I am First Officer Norrtar, what is your purpose for intruding into our space for the second time?”

“Antica City’s Customs Department has reason to believe you are transporting illegal minerals. If so, you are in conflict with article 7-DCA-401 of the 1961 Alliance Treaty for Extraterrestrial Visitation to this planet. I have a signed court order that grants me the right to board your ship for inspection.”

Again there was no response. “I have two StarViper fighters circling your ship. You will allow me to come aboard or we will escort you to a quadrant on the backside of the moon. Do you copy?” There was silence. “Of all the obstinate, bull headed...” Davies whispered in a growl.

“This Drac isn’t going to budge. Maybe you should call HQ,” the pilot said.

“Shuttle Seven-Charlie-Niner, this is Captain Nariv of the ThoPok. In accordance with the 1961 ATEV Treaty, we have a right to appeal your authority to board my ship for inspections. We will file that appeal first thing in the morning.”

Davies picked up the mike to respond when he saw a bright flash from a gun turret on the ThoPok. They barely had time to blink an eye before their shuttle exploded into a massive ball of flames.

“May day—May day, this is StarViper sixteen, call sign Spooky. The shuttle I was escorting has been destroyed by the ThoPok along with my wingman. I’m evading attack — I’m evading attack!”

Thirty-six

Base Ops at Toiyabe

Constant high-pitched beeping and the chattering sound of the printer alerted the communications officer that a classified document was arriving. It was to the attention of General Bradley. He rushed through a double-door, down a long hall, turned left and knocked on the third door to his right.

Bradley opened it. “What is it, Barcroft?”

“Sir, this just came over the wire.”

Bradley frowned as he read and then looked up at the soldier. “Go to red alert. It’ll take me a second to get dressed. I’m right behind you. Oh, and call Mr. Fox.”

“Yes sir.”

When Bradley pushed through the door, activity was at a fever pitch, coordinating support systems for Colonel Gordon’s Ranger squadron and Logan’s landing party.

Barcroft approached Bradley. “Sir, the 431st Apex StarViper fighter group has left Ira Hayes NSA Base, and will engage the ThoPok in thirty-five minutes. Surveillance has confirmed that the EMP shuttles have left the ThoPok’s bay. Nearby satellite sensors are picking up a rise in radioactivity around the shuttles. We are tracking them, and their coordinates are updating every ten seconds. Colonel Gordon’s Rangers will launch in fifteen minutes, and we’ll send them the coordinates to the enemy shuttles and their Vykra escorts.”

“And Logan?”

“He and his team are on their way to the ThoPok battle cruiser. ETA thirty minutes.”

“Keep me updated,” Bradley said while hurrying into Ops communication.

Meanwhile, onboard the Kehtean ship Creotis, Gordon’s Rangers prepared to employ. Each flight section consisted of four fighters, the main StarViper that will target the shuttle and three to cover him from a Draconian Vykra fighter attack. The maintenance crew topped off fuel and oxygen tanks, and double-checked the weapons cache while the bird went through preflight checks. Pilots made their way to their section in full flight suits and tactical helmets.

Dustin walked around his ship doing last minute checks on his controls and guidance jets when his wingman Keyes approached him. “Bryant, Sykes and I just discussed a little strategy change.”

“I’m listening.”

“After your briefing on the Black Sun’s tactics, we’ve decided the best thing for me to do is stay on your blind side the best I can. That way a Vykra fighter will have a more difficult time penetrating our defense. Bryant and Sykes can cover my rear position by taking turns skirting behind you depending on where I end up.”

“There’s hope for you guys yet,” Dustin said with a smile. “Let’s go kick some ass.”

“Roger that, boss.”

Dustin climbed in the cockpit and energized inverters to bring instruments and engine-start online. He pressed Engine Start One and then Engine Start Two while waiting to be cleared for takeoff. He squeezed the narrow-band radio button on the joystick to speak with his team. “All right boys, this is where the rubber meets the road. They assigned us the hemisphere above North America, so relax, stay frosty and aim straight.”

“We’re with you, Big Daddy,” Sykes said.

A tinny voice came over the radio. “This is Creotis Flight Control, Ranger squadron Flight Alpha is cleared for go.”

After thirty seconds, Flight Control sounded out over the radio again. “Ranger squadron Flight Baker, you are cleared for go.”

“That’s us,” Dustin said. “Let’s ease them out and point them toward our target zone.”

“I can’t lie to you, boys; I’ve got a lump in my throat the size of a watermelon,” Sykes said.

“That’ll pass once you’re in the fight,” Dustin said.

Bryant laughed. “Swallow that damn thing, Sykes, so we won’t have to hear how hungry you are all the time.”

“Amen to that, brother,” Keyes, said. “Speaking of amen, here’s a little prayer: God watch over us and give us clear thought, a steady hand and cast iron guts for there are so many souls counting on us, amen.”

Radio silence indicated deep concentration while they set their navigation headings and armed their particle beam weapons to prepare for battle. “Flight Control, this is Ranger Five,” Dustin said, “Flight Baker is going to full power in three—two—one. Full power initiated, ETA one minute and fifteen seconds to target zone.”

“Eeeehah! I just left that watermelon back at the Creotis, boys,” Sykes yelled.

“This is a quick jump and at this speed, we’ll be braking hard so be ready for anything,” Dustin said.

“Roger that, Cap,” Bryant said.

After the braking thrusters initiated full stop, Dustin felt tremendous pressure from high gees forcing his body against the seat restraints. The tail end of the fighter pivoted above his head until automatic controls righted the craft. Time slowed as seconds seemed like an eternity. He could see the shuttle carrying the bomb below him. Alongside it were three Black Suns’ Vykra fighters coated with a non-reflective flat black paint. He glanced around to see if any others were nearby.

Two of the Vykras peeled off from the shuttle and came at them, discharging their weapons in rapid fire. Dustin frowned, his eyes darkened with concern. “Something ain’t right,” he whispered. “Keyes, you guys tango with the Vykras, I’m going down for a closer look.”

“Dustin, are you crazy? The first rule in a conflict is never leave your wingmen.”

“Trust me.” While his team was entangled in the dogfight, he approached the shuttle on its starboard side. The lone Vykra fighter rotated toward him and fired. Dustin completed a couple of simple evasive maneuvers, lined his sights up with the target, set the computer targeting software and fired, destroying it. While Dustin studied the shuttle, Keyes shouted over the radio after winning his dogfight. “That was too easy.”

“A walk in the park,” Sykes said.

Bryant gloated. “It was like dog-fighting the North Koreans in my F35. I thought these KBS Agents were supposed to be off-the-chart bad-asses.”

“What are you waiting for, Dustin? Shoot and let’s go help the others.”

“Something’s wrong. Those pilots weren’t KBS. You guys get to a safe distance. I have a theory to test out.”

“You’re too close, Dustin. The EMP isn’t armed, but it can still pack a punch with triaftenite at that range,” Keyes said.

“I don’t think so.” He fired on the shuttle and watched it explode. “That’s not right,” he gasped. His thumb switched to wide band and shouted, “Toiyabe Ops, Toiyabe Ops, this is Ranger Five, the shuttles are decoys, I repeat, it’s a decoy! I just blew one up. Triaftenite leaves a cloud of red ionized gas for about ten seconds after it explodes. There was no red cloud. Do you copy? If intel is correct, we have thirty minutes before the real EMPs are detonated!”

“This is Ranger Leader from Alpha Flight,” Colonel Gordon said. “That’s a roger on Ranger Five, I just fired on this shuttle and there was no red cloud here either.”

“Standby,” Bradley ordered.

Thirty-seven

Meanwhile, Logan’s shuttle pilot pulled up alongside the ThoPok’s section designated 6-302, forty yards from the main shuttle bay doors. The two StarViper fighter escorts held steadfast while guarding the shuttle. They watched their allied counterparts from the 431st Apex StarViper Wing mixing it up in dogfights with Vykra fighters and dive-bombing the battleship.

Particle beams and laser fire crisscrossed as sections of the ThoPok’s fuselage exploded into billowing fiery balls of debris. Allied StarVipers took out the battle cruiser’s gun turrets and missile launchers but at a high cost. One by one, the 431st dwindled by two-thirds its force in less than ten minutes. It was an expected consequence for their aggressive attacks on the ThoPok.

Logan’s shuttle engineer, Luther Wade, handled the controls for the Universal Docking Mechanism. Spacecraft engineers designed the UDM so that personnel could transfer from one ship to another without the need for protective space suits. The manufacturer made the docking tunnel out of EPDM rubber molded in the form of a bellows so it can extend from a compressed state to twelve feet in length.

At the end of the bellows was an electro-magnetic ring broken up into small segments. This grappling ring design allowed it to conform to the skin of any ship it docked with and once attached, the ring would seal the air inside the shuttle.

It was Narrie’s job to get the ThoPok’s hatchway open. Behind him, Smalley and Ross carried the titanium shields lined with carbon nano tubes. The shields gave the team protection from small weapon’s fire once they were exposed to the inside of the Drac ship. Each squad member was outfitted in full battle camo uniforms with tactical helmets and a swivel down night vision device. They each carried an M26 automatic particle beam rifle.

“Once you enter the UDM tunnel, you will be in a state of weightlessness until you set foot on the Drac ship,” Wade said. “The UDM contains breathable oxygen after I open our hatch and the shuttle decompresses into the tunnel. The Drac ship’s oxygen is thinner than what we are used to. If you feel lightheaded, take a couple of hits from your auxiliary oxygen tank every five to ten minutes. Good luck.”

Narayanan stepped into the five-foot diameter tunnel, pushed off with a gentle shove of his foot, floating to the ThoPok’s hatch. He popped the handle with the butt of his hand and flipped it out, hand cranking it until the door loosened a half inch. He glanced at Ross and Smalley with a nod and they moved into a position where they covered the opening with their hand shields.

Narayanan reached over the shields, pushing the hatch in and to the left. Just as they were lowering the shields, three Dracs appeared in the hall from the shuttle bay. One of them yelled “Nowatta!” and fired at the hatchway, striking the thick shields. The other two joined in.

Narrie, Ross and Smalley returned fire striking two in the chest but the third one escaped up the corridor.

“Sims, on the double,” Narayanan shouted.

She floated up next to him.

He pointed. “That one is going for help. The light from our particle beam passing in front of the shuttle bay might attract attention. Stop him.”

Sims translocated in a room ahead of the runner and transmuted into a Draconian soldier. She stepped into the hall, held her hand out and shouted in Drac, “Otah!”

The Drac slid to a halt with a surprised look on his face. Out of breath, he replied in Draconian. “There are humans boarding our ship!”

“Why do you run? Are you a coward?”

“No, I was doing battle when the enemy killed two of my comrades. My communication device was damaged during the fight. I need to call Security for backup,” he exclaimed, looking back at the hatchway.

Sims pulled out her weapon and shot twice. The Drac fell to the deck. She rushed ahead to the next doorway where they parked the shuttles and nonchalantly walked past the opening making note of the number of Dracs in there. When she passed the door, she signaled Logan to come ahead. Orcutt took point followed by Logan and the rest as they hugged the wall, their M6 particle-beam pistols and M26 particle-beam rifles at the ready.

Logan came to the front to discuss the situation with Sims. “What do we have?”

“I counted three shuttles. Four guards are on this side of the bay, a group of six soldiers standing by the first shuttle, and various maintenance personnel working around the crafts. They are all carrying side arms. I’d say fifteen in all.”

“If any one of us even pops our head in that door, we might as well wave a neon sign with an arrow flashing enemy here,” Narrie said.

“I have an idea.” Sims backed away and created a yellow sash around her waist. She looked at the team pointing their weapons and whispered, “Remember, I’m wearing yellow. That means don’t shoot the one wearing yellow — got it?”

“Sims what the hell are you up to?” Logan whispered.

“Why should half of us go in there and get slaughtered when I can bring half of them out here to get slaughtered.” She glanced around. “Crouch behind that knee wall over to the right and be ready.” Sims rushed into the bay with urgency shouting in Draconian, “Attention — attention, we are under attack. Humans are coming in through the outer hatch!”

When Sims led them though the doorway, the anxious Drac soldiers turned the corner in eagerness firing their weapons at empty space. Logan and his Seals stood from behind the knee wall and took out seven of the ten before the rest pushed back into the shuttle bay. Once the team rushed inside, they found cover behind crates of shuttlecraft parts. “Is anybody injured?” Logan asked.

O’Neil crawled next to him. “Smalley and Orcutt didn’t make it. Ross got a graze in the leg.”

“Vickers, keep Betty safe. She’s the only one qualified to operate the shuttle.”

“Copy that.”

Crate material splintered into a fine dust from Dracs firing at them.

“There appears to be eight left. What now, kemosabe?” Narrie asked.

“Are you going to do that thing you did at Pyramiden? We thought you were about to walk on water that night,” Vickers chuckled.

“I’m not that crazy, more than once is pushing my luck.” He glanced around assessing the situation. “We can’t wait too long.”

Sims peeked around the edge of a crate and fired off three shots at two Dracs taking cover in a room. “We’re going to have the whole ship down our necks soon.”

“What are you worried about, Sims? You can pop out of here if things get too hot,” Narrie said.

She turned and frowned. “Just where do you suggest I pop out to, in the vacuum of space? I’d still be trapped here like everyone else.”

“Good idea.” Logan said as he fired at four Dracs shooting from behind a knee-wall.

“What?” Sims growled. “You’re starting to sound like Narrie the nut-case.”

“I want you to translocate near the four at the knee-wall to your left. Dayton, you’re closest to the ones taking cover behind the tool rack. I’ll get the two in the room. As soon as we have the area secured, Vickers, you weld that hatchway to the corridor shut. That’ll buy us a few minutes. Narrie, disarm the lock on the outer bay doors so we can remotely operate them. Mosely, O’Neil and Ross, as soon as it’s clear, each take a shuttle to see which one has the EMP device. Let’s move.”

Vickers, O’Neil and Ross laid down a suppressing line of fire on each of the Dracs location. Automatic weapons fire streaked from the other side of the room. Logan threw out a smoke canister to screen his movement across an open area and hugged a wall while moving toward the Dracs in the room.

When the smoke screen cleared well enough to see, he crawled beneath the window where the Dracs were shooting and lobbed a grenade. He covered his head with his arms and hugged the floor until the explosive device detonated. He stood in front of the window and sprayed the area with automatic fire. Logan spoke into his wristband radio, “Room secured.”

“Knee wall secured,” Sims said.

“I can’t get a clean shot,” Dayton whispered into his radio.

“Keep them occupied, Sims said.” After securing her location, she moved in stealth behind five-foot wooden crates until she reached a corner where she maneuvered around fifty-five gallon drums of water containers. She got a bead on the two Dracs and made the shots. “Tool rack clear.”

“Thanks, Sims,” Dayton said.

Moseley rushed toward the first shuttle, O’Neil the second and Ross, the third while Vickers welded the latch on the hatchway to the main corridor.

“They’re coming,” Vickers shouted. “Sounds like the whole damn army.”

“I disabled the shuttle bay door-locks,” Narrie yelled.

“Shuttle three,” Ross shouted from the shuttle door. “The bomb is in number three.”

“We’re on our way,” Logan said. “How’s the welding coming, Vickers?”

“Almost there.”

Moseley hurried to the pilot’s seat and strapped in. She flipped the battery power up switch to the ‘on’ position energizing indicator lights over the console. She initiated engine startup and nodded at Logan.

Logan glanced out the shuttle window and spoke into the radio, “Vickers, get your ass in gear.”

“I’m already gone.” He dropped the portable welder and back stepped, holding his M26 in front of him, noticing the metal door giving way. “Jesus.” He turned and ran. After he boarded the shuttle, Ross closed the hatch.

Moseley energized the maneuvering jets to raise the craft two feet off the deck and rotated it to face the shuttle bay door. She pressed the ‘open’ button but nothing happened. “Something’s wrong, Logan, the bay doors are inop!”

Ross opened the door and jumped to the hangar deck just when the welded door was partially forced open. A Drac stretched his arm through a crack on the latch side hatch edge and fired his weapon. Ross fell to the deck wounded in the back.

“Ross!” O’Neil yelled and jumped from the shuttle, firing at the door. He started back stepping while shooting. “I’m coming.”

“No, I’ve got this. Get back to the shuttle,” he shouted and pushed himself up, got to his feet and staggered toward the control panel. A Drac soldier shot Ross again. He fell at the base of the controls trying to maintain consciousness, blood dripping from the edge of his mouth. He watched O’Neil climb aboard and grab the door handle. Before pulling the hatch to the closed position, O’Neil looked at him for a second and nodded a goodbye.

With his last ounce of strength, Ross got to his knees, slammed the bypass button with the palm of his hand, and pulled the manual override lever down. The door rose and he was drawn into the freezing black vacuum of space.

After the shuttle cleared the opening of the bay doors, the fighter pilot outside the ThoPok opened communications. “This is StarViper Twenty-four, identify yourself.”

“Logan Pyke, the mission is a success, we are coming abreast.”

“Come ahead, we’ve got your back. Ranger Twenty-Three is retrieving Ross’ body. Anything I can do for you?”

“Yeah, tear that damn shuttle bay to shreds,” he said.

“My pleasure, sir.”

The StarViper unleashed a fury of high caliber particle beams turning the bay into a blackened fiery heap of scrap metal.

As they headed Earthward, the battle outside raged on while the ThoPok was getting battered.

“Take us home, Betty,” Logan said.

Thirty-eight

With time running out, the shuttles delivering the bombs were quickly found. “This is Toiyabe HQ, we’ve located the four Drac shuttles with the bombs. Flight Control is uploading the coordinates into your Nav computers. We’ve honed in on the Drac’s shuttle computer signal. The countdown for EMP detonation is T-minus twenty minutes and thirty-one seconds. Good luck.”

“Roger that, HQ. This is Ranger Leader, coordinates have been uploaded for Flight Alpha,” Colonel Gordon said.

“This is Ranger Nine, coordinates acquired by Flight Charlie.”

“Ranger Five upload complete for Flight Baker,” Dustin said.

“Ranger Thirteen, Flight Delta is a go on coordinates.”

Dustin switched back to Flight Baker communications after pushing the throttle to ninety percent. “Okay boys, stay sharp, fly smart and aim true — automatic braking in three–two–one.”

Thrusters went to full auto reverse, their ships easing into the quadrant three hundred nautical miles above central North America and two hundred twenty nautical miles from the previous location. In that instant, everything seemed peaceful and serene. Dustin could barely make out the west coast as Megan and Debbie entered his thoughts. Loud warning sirens from Dustin’s instrument panel alerted him to an immediate threat. “Three bogeys coming in hot at ten o’clock,” he said.

“Affirmative,” Keyes said. “Let’s go to work.”

“Judging by the ID codes, these are Black Suns. Remember what I told you, they can be very crafty and elusive,” Dustin said.

Sykes throttled forward. “It’s time to engage... let’s see if these S.O.B.s can live up to their reputation.”

A computerized voice announced. Ten minutes to EMP detonation.

“Nothing like a little pressure to wake a man up,” Bryant said.

“Bogey coming in hard at eight o’clock,” Keyes said in an urgent tone. “Where’d he come from?”

“Split right, split right!” Dustin shouted.

Just when Dustin and Keyes banked hard, Sykes and Bryant banked left barely getting missed by a stream of particle beam fire.

“That was too close,” Sykes exclaimed.

Bryant pressed the mike button. “I’m going after the single bogey.”

“I’m right behind you,” Sykes said, noticing that Dustin and Keyes were in a scrap of their own.

Bryant energized his maneuvering jets and throttled forward followed by Sykes. The Vykra fighter banked hard right, then left, spiraled toward the planet and banked hard right again.

Bryant maneuvered move-per-move in precision with the Vykra’s flight pattern, attempting to capture him in the cross hairs of his weapon’s targeting computer. “Tricky bastard.”

“Be careful,” Sykes said. “Dustin told us that one of their strategies is to draw the opponent away from the fight to gain a tactical advantage.”

“He’s in my sights... I have him.” The target was crossing in and out of his HUD’s targeting computer and couldn’t lock on. He timed it so when the Vykra was moving into his cross hairs, he fired a volley of particle beams. “It’s a miss!”

The KBS Vykra veered into the shadowy area where the diffused rays of the sun were blocked by the Earth’s outer edge.

“I don’t believe it, he disappeared. One second I had him on radar and the next... poof —gone. Do you have a visual?”

Sykes glanced around. “Negative, negative, there’s nothing but stars and blackness. With that stealthy black paint on their fighters, it’s almost impossible to see them up here.”

“I don’t see any nav-lights. He must’ve turned them off. I don’t even have him on radar. He’s like a ghost. Let’s head back to help Dustin.”

“Nine o’clock, nine o’clock, look out!” Sykes barely had time to hit the thrusters when he witnessed his own impending demise. Particle beams tore through his fuselage setting off warning lights and sounds of disaster. A reddish-orange ball of flames from Sykes’ fighter lit up the darkness, exposing the surreptitious Vykra. Bryant glanced back. “Sykes!”

He looked up at the belly of the Vykra as it passed overhead. “I’ve got you now, you dirty rotten bastard,” he whispered as he turned off his navigation lights and held back using his targeting radar. He wanted to give his opponent the false impression that he wasn’t being tracked. “Two can play this game.” He flew beneath him and maintained his distance watching the Vykra bank, weave and corkscrew several times.

Bryant eased up from below and behind, turned on his targeting computer, locked on and fired, watching the fiery explosion rip the craft to pieces. “That one was for you, Sykes.” He headed back to Dustin’s position hoping to avoid enemy radar detection.

T-minus five minutes to EMP detonation.

Bryant switched the communication-link from Sykes to broad band Flight B, listening to the busy voices of Dustin and Keyes.

“I have a visual of the shuttle craft bearing forty degrees port and twenty-two degrees below,” Dustin said. “Keep those two Vykras off my tail at least until I can make the shot. I just got word that the other three Drac shuttles have just been destroyed. This is the last one.”

“They’re coming up from behind me fast. They have radar lock!” Keyes shouted.

“Just a little closer...” Dustin whispered.

“Dustin, I’ve been hit, I’ve been hit! I’m dead in the water,” Keyes shouted.

“The Vykra’s radar is attempting to lock onto me,” Dustin said. He swerved, dipped and banked his fighter to avoid a set radar lock.

“Bryant here, stay on course, Dustin. I’ll make the kill.”

“Man, am I glad to see you. Get’em off my ass, I’m almost in range.”

Bryant was beneath the two Vykras closing in on Dustin and waited until the last second to turn on his targeting computer, honing in on the first Black Suns’ fighter. He fired, hitting dead center, watching it explode into a billowing fireball. Bryant targeted the second one as it closed in on Dustin pulling the trigger but all he heard was a clicking sound from the firing mechanism. A light flashed red indicating a malfunction. “Damn!” he yelled, slamming the control console with the butt of his fist.

Bryant took a deep breath, turned off his mike and aimed his fighter at the Vykra, pushing the throttle to one hundred percent ramming speed. Subtle adjustments in the maneuvering jets had to be made to maintain the course heading. Dustin’s desperate attempt to out maneuver the Vykra bordered the impossible.

The Vykra grew larger by the second through Bryant’s cockpit window as he took a deep breath and leaned back into his seat. Just before impact, he closed his eyes, allowing his mind to wander.

Keyes witnessed a fiery explosion followed by a momentary trail of flames from the inertia of Bryant’s ship tearing through the Vykra fighter. “Dustin, you’re free to make the shot!”

“My evasive maneuvers has put me out of range. Final calculations and a new heading are laid in.”

T-minus three minutes to EMP detonation. the simulated voice said.

Dustin’s headphones suddenly came alive with a familiar raspy tone. “Drezdon, why have you forsaken Draconis?”

A chill crawled up his spine. LeCertis. “If anyone should know the answer to that, you should, brother. You are irrelevant to the Draconians and disowned by the humans. I have a life here now and it took rediscovering my identity to realize that.”

“Your heading is taking you toward the shuttle. Let it complete its mission and return to Draconis with me.”

“The mission has already failed. What purpose does it serve to devastate so many lives? Leave and allow me to destroy that ship.”

“You will die trying.”

T-minus one minute and counting to EMP detonation.

“Then we have nothing further to say.” Dustin increased his throttle setting by fifteen percent. This will get him closer to the shuttle quicker and hope for an effective braking maneuver while still being able to make the shot. Dustin could see the shuttle as a mere speck in the distance, his heart pounded from feeling Vullen closing in behind him. He had no more time to out maneuver a radar lock so the shortest, most direct route had to be taken in hope Vullen wouldn’t fire.

“Vullen has radar lock, and I’m not within range for an effective shot. I need five more seconds!” Suddenly, he felt a thump followed by a bright burst of white light and his instrument panel lights flickered. A bright flashing strobe attracted his attention to his left wing. “I’ve been hit, I’ve lost nav and radar but I still have manual control and on course.”

The computer generated voice lulled in its monotonous monotone. 32–31–30–29–

Vullen adjusted his trajectory to fire again, having radar lock right up Dustin’s tailpipe. “Drezdon, you give me no choice but to destroy you. I’ll give you five seconds to change course.” Without warning, an explosion crippled Vullen’s right wing navigation jets and he spiraled to the right unable to steer the craft with the flight controls.

An unfamiliar voice came over Dustin’s radio. “Ranger Five, this is Spooky, I wasn’t close enough to destroy Vullen, but I disabled one of his engines, and he’s swirling out of control. Take the shot.”

“Roger that, Spooky and thanks.”

“Good luck.”

He was ready to fire when the unthinkable happened. The shuttle launched the EMP device and it was bugging out. “The goose has laid its egg. I repeat — the goose has laid its egg! Target computer still inop. I’m too far to make an accurate shot. There’s still a chance... I’m going in.” He thought for a second. “Keyes, tell Logan to give Megan and Debbie a message for me. Tell them I love them.”

25–24–23–22–

“If you’re too close, that triaftenite igniting the charges inside the EMP will increase its destructive power a hundred fold. It’ll consume you,” Keyes said.

“It has to be destroyed before it arms itself at T-minus five seconds. I only get one shot. It’s in my cross hairs, I’m taking the shot.”

12–11–10–

He fired, watched it hit the target and pulled back hard on the stick to raise the nose.

Keyes shadowed his eyes when a white flash raced across the blackness of space and a red ball of flames grew to a size that could envelop a battleship. A concussive ring of gas swept through space, slamming into his disabled ship hard enough to send it spiraling away from the blast.

When calm returned, he gazed around looking for VanPelt. He pressed his mike button. “Dustin, come in . . . come back ole buddy. Come back.” He waited but there was no sign of him. He switched bandwidth. “Spooky, this is Ranger Six. Do you see Ranger Five?”

There was a silent pause. “Nah, no sign of him, Ranger Six. The heat and the force likely incinerated his ship. Sorry, amigo.”

Keyes sat in quiet solitude, trying to control his emotions. He was the only survivor in his squad, and he sighed with a tired, disheartened sounding voice. “Spooky, I need a tow back to the Creotis.”

“Roger that Ranger Six, I can give you a hand with that. Hang on; I’ll be there in about five minutes.”

“Thanks.”

Thirty-nine

Three days later, Logan, Narayanan, Sims and General Bradley stood at Megan’s front door. Logan knocked.

“Coming,” Megan said loud enough to penetrate the door. She opened it and smiled. “Logan, what brings you —” A lump filled her throat looking at the general standing there in full dress uniform. Somber expressions weighed heavy on their faces. She sensed it was a replay the day an Air Force colonel delivered that horrible news about her husband. “Something has happened to Jack.” Tears welled in her eyes and she hunched over with her hand over her mouth, sobbing at a near whisper.

Logan grasped her around the shoulders and helped her into the living room where they sat.

“I’ll get her a glass of water,” Sims whispered.

“Mrs. Jeffries, we want to express our deepest and sincerest condolences,” Bradley said.

Tears streamed down her face, her nose reddened, her cheeks flushed.

Sims returned with the water and handed it to Logan to give to her. “Here Megan, take a sip,” he said, gazing at her for a moment. “I know how close you all became and this is so difficult, especially on the heels of recently losing your husband. Dustin wanted me to give you a message. He said he loves you two very much.”

Megan regained her composure, sipped some water and set the glass on the table. “Did he suffer?”

Logan shook his head in a slight gesture. “Dustin sacrificed himself to save this world... your world because he wanted to give back what you and your daughter gave him — a fresh start in life.”

Debbie burst through the front door after getting off the school bus, shouting with joy, “Mommy, Mommy, I got an ‘A’ in spelling today. My teacher said...” She slid to a halt after seeing Logan sitting next to the general. Debbie gazed at her mother. “You’ve been crying, Mom, why?”

Megan cupped her face in her hands, sobbing until breathless.

Debbie’s eyes went dark looking at the general’s uniform and shifted back to her mom, tilting her head, trying to hold back the tears from witnessing her in such pain. Debbie embraced her mother’s head and ran her hand over her hair in a slow, soothing motion. “It’ll be all right, tell me Mom, why are these people here?”

Megan wiped her wet cheeks, looked at her and grasped her by the shoulders. “It’s Jack, honey.”

Debbie stepped back. “What about Jack?”

“He’s gone.”

Tears dripped off her cheeks, her lips quivered. “You mean like Daddy?”

Megan wiped her bloodshot eyes with a tissue and nodded.

“No — Jack said he would never leave. He said he was coming back... he promised.” Debbie frowned as tears flowed in rivulets.

Megan’s voice trembled and cracked. “I’m sorry, baby, but he won’t be coming back.”

Debbie stepped back, shaking her head, panting. “No, no, not again.” She turned and ran upstairs to her room, convulsing in sobs, crying her eyes out. Megan hurried after her.

Fifteen minutes passed when Megan returned, exhaustion riddling her face.

“How is Debbie?” Logan asked.

Megan sat wiping her nose with a tissue. “She’s taking it hard... I mean, the wounds hadn’t even healed yet after her father died. I believe that’s why she clung to Jack, maybe because it gave her some modicum of hope that life would go on, that happiness wouldn’t be as elusive as she thought. She believed it so much that it rubbed off on me.”

Megan gazed at the coffee table, the color drained from her face. “I guess it gave me hope for some kind of future.” She looked up at Logan. “It was one of those once-in-a-lifetime things when you meet someone and it feels as though you’ve known them all your life.”

The group stood and Logan said, “If there is anything we can do for you, Megan, please don’t hesitate to call.”

She nodded. “Thanks.”

“Mrs. Jeffries, they could not recover his body, but we thought we’d put up a headstone to memorialize him... to express our respect and to honor him,” Bradley said. “If you are able, we would like you to attend the service we’ve planned. Logan will let you know when and where.”

“Sure, just give me a little notice so I can get my sister to watch Debbie.”

“Why don’t you bring her along too,” Sims said.

“Deb’s had such a hard time losing her dad... now Jack. And she wouldn’t understand seeing the name Dustin VanPelt on Jack’s headstone. She has no idea about any of these secret things going on and I want to keep it that way, at least until she gets older.”

“Of course,” Sims said.

“There’s one last thing to tell you,” Logan said. “Jack has something he wants to will to you. It’s something special that he brought with him from Draconis.”

“Oh, what is it?”

“We can’t say yet because we have to clear it through legal channels.”

Megan’s brows drew closer together, mystified and curious. “I promise we will care for it and treasure it always.”

Bradley smiled. “Fine, that sounds fine.”

Forty

Two months later:

The phone rang. “Hello,” Megan said.

“This is Logan, how are you guys doing?”

“Okay.”

“Sorry it’s been over a month since we had the service for Dustin, and I apologize for not calling sooner. We got bogged down in the quagmire of red tape trying to get this special thing of Dustin’s released through legal channels.”

“That’s not a problem; I understand government inefficiency very well.”

“Can you meet me around eleven this morning?”

“We planned on going to my husband’s gravesite since today is Saturday and Debbie doesn’t have to go to school. Could you meet us there? It’s easy to find, I’ll send you a text message with the address and directions.”

“That’ll work. How is Debbie?”

“Not well, I’m so worried about her. She doesn’t want to go to school or play with other kids. She mopes around here and cries in her sleep. The doll Jack got her sits on top of the desk, and when I ask why she’s not playing with it, she says she’s too sad. Logan, I just don’t know what to do.”

“What do the doctors say?”

“What can they say... time will heal her wounds. Debbie’s therapist says that the pain is very deep from losing two men in her life so close together, but she’ll come out of it, eventually.”

“Both of you are in our thoughts; we appreciate how much you helped us with Dustin. I believe the outcome to stop Vullen would’ve been very different if he hadn’t been for you two. So, much of the credit should go to you and Debbie for the mission’s success.”

“That’s sweet, thank you, Logan.”

“See you in a bit. I might be a few minutes late.”

“That’s okay, bye.”

Megan turned, walked to the bottom of the stairs and called out, “Deb, time for breakfast, honey.”

Five minutes passed when Debbie moseyed into the kitchen and flopped on the chair at the breakfast nook. Normally, her choice of casual-wear would be something colorful like a twirly overall dress on top of a flower patterned short sleeve T-shirt. Now she dresses in just the essentials of jeans and a plain white T-shirt.

“I’ve got your favorite — Fruitloops,” Megan retrieved the milk from the fridge, poured some into the bowl of cereal and set it in front her. “Try to eat, honey, we have to go visit Daddy so you’ll need your strength.”

“Okay,” she mumbled with a sigh. “Debbie stirred her cereal with a lazy spoon, slow and random, scooped some up, put it in her mouth, and chewed in a tired motion.

Megan squatted next to her. “Honey, remember when I told you Jack wanted to leave us something special?”

“Special... like what?”

“Your dad used to look at your grandfather’s watch once in a while.”

“The one with the bird on it?”

“Yes, it’s a gold pocket watch with an eagle on it. The watch was given to your grandfather by your grandmother when they got married. He never took it off until the day he gave it to your dad.”

“Daddy said grandpa loved that watch so much.”

Megan nodded. “Because it reminded him of your grandmother. Well, you see, Jack didn’t have a family so he thought of us as his family . . . he sort of adopted us, understand?”

“Yeah, like we adopted him, right?”

“Right, he used to live far, far away in a strange land and when he left there, he brought something with him that he wants us to have, to take care of and cherish always. I suppose he wanted us to have something to remember him by.”

Debbie’s eyes welled with moisture, biting her lower lip, trying hard not to cry.

Megan embraced her and rubbed her back. “It’s okay, baby, you cry if it makes you feel better.”

She pulled away, wiping her eyes with her palm. “So, where is it?”

“Mr. Pyke is meeting us at Daddy’s place and he’ll give it to us there. So, I want you to be a big girl and eat your cereal, okay? We have to leave soon.”

Debbie sighed. “I’ll try.”

Debbie strapped herself into the back seat of the car, pushed the button to open the window, feeling the warm sun beating down upon her face. A deep blue cloudless sky enveloped their ride to San Francisco, the breeze carrying an occasional salty ocean smell as they drove to the Golden Gate Bridge.

Twenty minutes later, Megan turned into the parking lot of her church, drove past the front entrance and through an open set of black rod-iron gates for another hundred yards. Grass had that freshly cut aroma and graveyard markers had been manicured and weeded. Old gnarled oaks and strong upright maples defused the sunlight along the road. She pulled off to the side next to a marker sign that read Lot 4B.

Megan stepped out, unbuckled Debbie and handed her the bouquet. They held hands, walked across the road and onto a thick green grassy lot making their way to the gravesite. A dark haired middle-aged woman knelt next to a headstone six rows over, laying flowers. An elderly man with a blue baseball cap and walking cane stood over a grave on the next row. Eight rows over from him, a man in a business suit with two small children bowed their heads in prayer.

When they got to the gravesite, Debbie placed the flowers in front of her father’s headstone. She went to her knees next to him, stroking the tops of the grass in a slow, sweeping motion.

A feeble sounding voice behind Megan startled her. “Ma’am, do you have the time?”

Megan twisted around and came face to face with the elderly man wearing the blue baseball cap. A bushy gray beard grew inches below the chin with deep wrinkles etching the areas around the outside of his eyes.

“Sure.” Megan looked at her watch. “It’s ten fifty-five,” she said, glancing around for Logan.

The old man leaned on his cane and mumbled in a tired, weak voice, “Mr. Pyke isn’t coming.”

Confused, she turned to the elderly man. “What did you say?”

“Mr. Pyke, ma’am, he won’t be coming.”

“Do you know him?”

“Oh sure, he had an emergency call and asked me to come instead.”

“And who are you?”

“Nobody special, I used to work at Toiyabe but I’m retired now.”

“Logan was supposed to give me something Jack brought with him from Draconis.”

“Yes, I have it.” The old man’s eyes shifted to the child. “It might be better if we speak in private.”

“What’s going on, Mom?” Debbie asked. “Who is he?”

Megan glanced at Debbie. “Stay there, this nice man wants to talk.”

He groaned in pain. “I have a gimpy leg so bear with me.”

“Lean on me.”

Once far enough away, they stopped to talk.

The elderly man limped a few steps closer to her and leaned on his cane with both hands, favoring his right leg. He took a deep breath, gazing around at the brilliant green grass and trees on the other side of the road. “I miss the cool breeze off the bay during those glorious sunsets sitting in your lawn chair. A man can be at peace there . . . think there.”

The old man’s voice changed to something sounding more familiar, and she drew closer to him, mystified, stunned. Megan couldn’t breathe as she studied his face, his eyes, his mouth, trying to see beyond the gray beard and bushy eyebrows. “Jack?” she whispered. “Is that you? Is it really you?”

Dustin gave her a weak nervous smile and nodded. “Yes, it’s me, Megan. I missed you guys.”

Megan’s knees weakened as she covered her mouth with her hand trying to sort out what she just heard. “Oh my God, Oh my God!” she cried in a whisper and embraced him.

Dustin felt her trembling in his arms as he rubbed her back.

“I don’t know whether to kiss you or slap you silly.” Megan backed away, wiping the tears from her face with her hands, keeping her voice low so Debbie couldn’t hear. “Why? Why did you put us through that?”

“Sorry, the last thing I wanted was to hurt either of you, but it had to be played out this way to make it look real. Otherwise, it would have never convinced anyone.”

Megan’s expression bore the weight of confusion and bewilderment. “Explain.”

“There’s no doubt that Vullen wanted me dead since I denied him his duty to complete his mission. If he even suspected that I was alive, he would stop at nothing to hunt me down. That’s the reason for General Bradley’s visit to your home and my grave marker at Arlington Cemetery in Virginia.” He gazed into her eyes, sighed and whispered, “I’m tired, Megan, I just want to go someplace peaceful and live... just live.”

“What happened up there?”

Dustin glanced out over the grave markers. “Vullen had planned to detonate bombs above Earth’s atmosphere. If he was able to complete his mission, this world and those strong enough to survive would have been sent back to the dark ages.”

“An EMP device?”

“Yeah, he fired on my ship to stop me from destroying the bomb. I was flying crippled, but I got close enough to shoot it before the nuclear device armed. After it exploded, the concussion from the explosion almost blew me back into Earth’s atmosphere. Those that witnessed the blast thought that it destroyed my ship.”

“Is that how you got injured?”

“Yeah, the only thing that saved me was that I knew the structural capability of the fighter I was flying. Engineers reinforced the bottom of that ship with tiles harder than diamonds. Just before the explosion, I pulled the nose vertical where the bottom absorbed most of the blast. It shattered my leg and broke several ribs. Everybody thinks I’m dead except the general, Logan, Sims and Narayanan.”

“So you’re a pilot — a space pilot?”

“Not anymore.” Dustin chuckled. “When I got out of that thing, I kissed the ground. I’m officially retired.”

Megan embraced him and whispered. “Thank God, you made it back safe.”

Dustin held her for a moment and pushed her away to look at her. “Megan, I don’t have much time. The government is putting me in the Witness Protection Program. They are giving me a new identity with a different past. I’m looking to start a new chapter in my life, and I want you and Debbie to come with me. They’ve agreed to do the same for you.”

“Oh Jack, I want to you know that, but I have Debbie to think about... it’s such a big decision.”

“I know, and there’s no need for a decision now. Logan said you have up to six months and if you guys wish to do it, contact him only. I want you to be sure, in your heart, that it’s the right choice. And if you choose not to, I’ll be devastated, but I will respect your decision.”

Megan looked over at her daughter kneeling next to her dad and then back at him. “It’ll have to be both of our decisions.”

“Of course, it shouldn’t be any other way. Do you think she’ll understand my past?”

“Debbie knows you and loves you as Jack. Other than that simple premise, there’s no need for her to know anything else until she’s older. Where will you be going?”

“I can’t tell you where but it’s beautiful there. Neighbors aren’t too close, a small community, plenty of room to stretch out. I want to build a log home at the foot of a mountain, cast a line in a rushing trout stream and sit by a campfire. Those memories never left after the Dracs kidnapped me. Being around Deb has made me feel as if I’m re-living the childhood I lost when I was her age.” Dustin reached down rubbing his leg. “It throbs like a toothache. The doc says it’ll fully heal, but it’ll take time.”

“There’s a bench over there. Let’s get you seated.”

Dustin rested his hand on her shoulder and limped to the bench. He sat, never taking his eyes off Megan with a desire to take in every curve and line of her face. It may be the last he’d ever see either of them.

Megan waved at Debbie to come over and then turned to face him with a warm smile. Debbie ran to her mom and stood behind her, peering around her waist at the strange old man.

He looked into her eyes, his smiling expression escaping the boundaries of the disguise. “Hi young lady, I have a riddle for you. What is broken if it’s not held?”

Debbie placed a finger to her mouth quizzically looking at him and shook her head.

“A promise and I promised to come back. Hi Deb, I missed my little girl.”

Debbie’s mouth dropped, and a blank, stunned expression grew over her face while slowly slipping around her mother. She moved closer to the old man with aroused curiosity. There was something eerily familiar and the closer she got to him, the more she felt comfortable getting near him. She studied his eyes, his nose and ears, reaching out to touch his mustache and beard, her fingers gliding over his grayish white hair. “Jack?” she whispered, barely able to take a breath looking up at her mother for confirmation.

Megan nodded and smiled.

Debbie squealed in elation, wrapping her arms around his neck and buried her face into his shoulder. She wept.  “You did come back! I missed you, Jack.”

Dustin glanced up at Megan and gently squeezed Debbie in his arms. “There, there, get it out of your system, sweetheart.” He reached into his pocket for a clean handkerchief. “Here, let me wipe those pretty little eyes.”

Debbie backed away as he wiped her face dry, her expression changing to hardened steel. She frowned, her eyes darkening. “Why did you do that? Why did you hurt me and Mom?”

“I never wanted to hurt you or your mother; you must believe that. One day you will understand it was necessary so I can have a life and a future. In time, your mother will explain some things to you, but what matters right now is that we are sharing a special time together. Soon, I must leave this place and no matter what happens, I want you to know I’ll never forget you.”

“No, you can’t go — not again. I won’t let you.” She glanced at her mother. “Tell him, Mom. Tell him he can’t go.”

“You and your mother will need to make an important decision soon. I’m going to a new place and I want you guys to come with me. There’ll be lots of trees and mountains. We’ll fish in the streams, go on hikes to see lots of wildlife, and ride trains across the vast countryside. It’ll be fun but there’ll be hard work too.”

Debbie’s expression lit up. “Really? That would be so cool.” She peered up at her mom. “Can we go with Jack, please Mom, can we?”

“We’ll see, honey, we have to talk it over between us and with your dad too.”

“Oh, I don’t think Dad will mind if it makes us happy.” Debbie put her arm on his shoulder, looking very bewildered. “Jack, not that it matters, how come you’re so old now?”

Dustin heard Megan chuckle. “It’s just make-up so that no one recognizes me.” He pulled his mustache partially off. “See.”

She giggled. “You’re silly.”

His wristband communication device buzzed and a red light flashed.

“What’s that?” Debbie asked.

A black limousine and two black SUVs turned the corner in the road and stopped. “It’s time for me to go.” He stood, leaning on his cane.

“But I don’t want you to go. Please don’t leave us,” Debbie pleaded.

“I have to, baby.”

Debbie turned her back to him and walked to her father, her head hanging low, sulking.

Dustin glanced at her and then faced Megan. They embraced and he backed away, gazing at her. “I’ll miss you.”

“Me too.” She kissed him on the lips.

He looked back at Debbie standing with her back to him. “Goodbye, Debbie. I love you.” When she didn’t respond, he limped toward the limo.

“Jack?” Megan called out.

Dustin turned to face her.”

“Logan said you brought something precious from Draconis and you were going to leave it with us.”

“I already did.”

Megan frowned in puzzlement.

He put his right hand over his heart, smiled, turned, and headed toward the road.

Tears welled in her eyes watching him leave when she heard Debbie cry out. “Jack wait — Jack!” She ran to catch up with him and he bent over to hug her. They said a few words and he kissed her on the forehead, gazed at her for a few moments and continued to the limo.

Megan walked up to her and knelt on one knee.

“Mom, I want to be with Jack so much.”

“Me too, but Aunt Denise and Grandma will miss us, don’t you think?”

Debbie nodded, her solemn expression drawing down even further. “But we can come back to visit them and Dad.”

“You have two more months of school. We’ll talk about it, okay?”

“Daddy used to say that everything is so complicated in this world. I never knew what he meant, til’ now.”

“It means you’re growing up into a strong young lady. We have to give all this a little time so we can think about it and make the best decision we can.” Megan took a deep breath and sighed. “I really want to go, too.”

“You said Jack was going to leave us something to remember him by. What is it?”

“His heart, honey... Jack left us his heart.” They stood and waved.

The driver got out to open the door for him. Jack turned, waved, and climbed in the back. The vehicles pulled away, followed the horseshoe road out, and disappeared behind a line of trees.

A Note from the Author

Thank you for reading the Orion Chronicles, book one, The Black Suns. I hope you enjoyed it; below is a sample read from book two. As an author, reader reviews are the lifeblood of my career. Reviews allow me to gauge how I’m doing with my readers and it helps when I submit my books for advertising. I would appreciate it if you could take a few minutes to write a review. It would mean a great deal. Here’s the URL straight to the book.

Orion Chronicles - The Black Suns

Also, you can check out my catalog of Sci-Fi books, contact me or sign up for my newsletter at https://www.rrmorris.net/.   Thanks so much and have a fantastic day, Roy

A Sample Read

Do synthetic beings have electronic souls...

The InterStellar Force agency assigned an android to my team; they call it D.A.R.I.C. — Droid with Autonomous Reactive Intelligent Computing. I’m told Reactive Intelligence is an upgrade from Quantum AI. At the time I didn’t give a damn, but when Daric saved my bacon while on a dangerous mission, I recognized something different about him, something unique. He’s about as close to being human as I’ve seen yet. ISF Agent Narayanan

Chapter One

The year 2056: Somewhere in deep space. A voice boomed over the intercom in the passenger compartment of the Solar Class ship Savoyar, a vessel smaller than a cruiser but large enough to carry a shuttle. “Mr. Pyke, report to the flight deck.”

“On my way.” He glanced at the two Marines strapped into their seats, their eyes closed, undisturbed by the blaring announcement. Narayanan’s head rested against the bulkhead, dead-to-the-world. Logan grinned. He could sleep through a friggen earthquake. An android sat next to him, expressionless, staring at the hull as though in a state of shutdown. It was programmed to save energy during times of inactivity. Narayanan wrestled with the brass whenever they assigned a synthetic to be on an operation with him. It didn’t matter whether it was an android, a cyborg, a flesh and blood replicant, or a nuts and bolts robot, he hated getting saddled to them.

In agency work, most synthetics used mathematical algorithms in place of logical problem solving. A seasoned human detective practices logic, reasoning, and common sense to unravel the puzzles of an investigation, but with one added element — it’s called a hunch. It’s a gut instinct that guides logic in solving cases. His disdain for synthetics magnified his resolve against working with them. He referred to them as Gearbox.

Logan slapped the release latch on his seat restraint, grabbing a steel conduit above his head to keep from floating to the back of the compartment in zero-gee. HQ gave the captain instructions to disengage all nonessential systems, one of the amenities being the artificial gravity generator.

I had little notice to make this trip, so Mr. Fox didn’t have much time to brief me. Something about a stranded Russian spaceship and a strange celestial body that has entered our solar system. What the two have in common is unclear.

“Is there a problem, Mr. Pyke?”

He recognized the calm masculine voice as coming from the android and turned to face it. “No Daric, there is nothing to be concerned about.” Why send an android on this trip? Could it be that certain aspects of this flight might be too dangerous for humans to perform? After all, it’s only an artificial being lacking emotion or awareness for their own personal safety — a machine we can leave behind without feeling loss or shame.

The android stared up at him with blue uncanny human-like eyes, replicating the look of curiosity. Anger, joy, and even sorrow sometimes manifested from it. In this particular model, roboticists even designed it to blink fifteen times a minute, the average for a human. These were pre-programmed responses to make people feel more at ease around them. Its face and hands had skin-toned silicone over mechanical actuators and tiny powerful servos. Artificial muscle and tendons, induced by a minute electrical current controlled by a special processor, gave it smooth, human-like motivation. The engineers constructed the rest of it with a metal and high-impact plastic exoskeleton to fashion the anatomical human form. I heard this one is a prototype with an advanced operating system. It could be they sent it along to give it some experience... to study how it reacts in deep space.

In zero gravity, Logan pulled himself along the pipe toward the hatchway leading to the flight deck, his legs drifting behind. He wormed his way in between the engineering station and science station, grabbing the back of the captain’s seat while peering out the front glass-shield. “Yes, Captain Moya.” Reverse thrusters kicked in, slowing their forward momentum. He pushed against the back of the seat to keep from being forced into the instrument panel.

“We’re here,” Moya said, switching on the video monitor. The external camera zoomed in on a ghostly ship suspended in the void of deep space. “That’s the Russian craft, Tupolev. She’s inside the grid known as the Dead Zone, an EMP field that’ll ensnare any unprotected ship.”

“Can we reach her?”

“No, not unless we want to end up in the same dilemma. All souls onboard perished.”

“How far inside the radiation barrier is she?”

“About eighty nautical miles. Tupolev passed through the unsuspected Dead Zone doing twenty-two thousand knots. They didn’t know what hit them. All systems went offline in an instant.”

Logan studied the monitor as the camera zoomed in on the spacecraft. Light from the sun reflected the front of the fuselage leaving eerie shadows around the backsides. “It appears she attempted to limp back.”

“Yeah, those poor souls drifted over several hundred miles before they used up too much of their hydrogen peroxide jets to halt the ship. There wasn’t enough left to return out of the field.” Moya entered different grid coordinates and watched as a blurry object came into focus on the video monitor.

“What the hell is that?” Logan hissed in a whisper.

“That is the reason you’re here, Mr. Pyke.”

“Mr. Fox mentioned a celestial body, but I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Six months ago, a Russian astronomy hobbyist discovered this thing moving through space and mapped its course. When he realized it was heading in our direction, he reported it to Roscosmos, the Russian Federal Space Agency. By the time the eggheads studied it, the mass was at the outer orbital edge of our solar system. It’s moving along at sixteen thousand nautical miles per hour which is around eight kilometers per second. The Russians were eager to investigate it and sent the Tupolev.”

“The object appears as though it was spherical at one time and somehow blew itself apart,” Logan mused.

The captain turned in his seat to face him. “How did you come to that conclusion?”

“In the first place, in its original form, it looks as though it might’ve been a moon or a dwarf planet. Almost one quarter of its mass is missing. Anytime the core has been exposed like that, either it collided with another large object or it had a catastrophic event from inside. Has anyone estimated how large it was before the damage?”

“A bit smaller than the size of our moon,” a voice said from behind. “And we are in agreement on all counts as far as your hypothesis goes... uh, referring to the celestial body that is.”

Logan turned to see a thin, bald, dark-skinned man with a bright smile sitting at the science station. He reached for a handshake. “My name is Logan Pyke. I’m with the InterStellar Force agency.”

“Doctor Thomas Gisemba, astrogeologist from Kenya... my pleasure. We estimate that it was about two thousand two hundred miles in diameter pole to pole before a catastrophic event took out that portion of it. What you see is around one-point-five million square miles of mass left.”

“What’s that blue glow coming from the damaged side,” Logan asked.

Gisemba turned back to his monitor. “That anomaly is what we are most interested in. Some experts believe it’s a new form of energy. The mass itself has been emitting a radio signal that could be interpreted as a warning. We haven’t been able to figure out what. Since I’ve been out here, I believe it’s a warning against entering that EMP field.”

“We’re here to retrieve data to analyze what negative effects to expect from the Dead Zone,” Moya said. “If we can’t survive whatever disabled the Russian ship and killed its crew, we won’t be able to investigate that huge mass passing through our solar system.”

“The scientific community believes it could be a threat to Earth,” Gisemba said.

“How so,” Logan asked.

“It’s believed that the Earth and that mass are on an eventual collision course. They are crunching the numbers now and will have an accurate report in a few days.”

Logan gasped. “My God... a planet killer.”

“Lieutenant Holcombe, ready the probe to fire,” Moya commanded.

“Probe navigation set and positioned to fire two-zero degrees port, Captain.” Holcombe flipped a red switch to arm the launch. “Three — two — one, fire. Probe away,” he said.

“The probe is electromechanical. Won’t it get disabled in the Dead Zone?” Logan asked.

“The outer shell is lead plated. We are far enough away from the source that radiation levels should be weak enough as not to damage the probe’s electronics right away,” Moya said.

“Yeah but what kind of radiation,” Logan said.

“That’s what we are about to find out.” Gisemba flipped several switches and the computer monitor came alive with symbols and numerical figures. “Starting data-streaming and recording.”

Logan twisted around next to Gisemba. “Once we get back to Antica City, how long will it take you to evaluate the data you are gathering now?”

“No telling. It depends on how unfamiliar the samplings are and how much we have to research.”

Gisemba scrutinized the data gathered by the probe. “Captain, the probe has stopped transmitting. It appears the radiation finally damaged the electronics. I believe we have enough information in the data banks to generate a full analysis of the probe’s findings.”

Warning lights flashed as sirens, beeps and whistles sounded a harsh notice that something cataclysmic was about to happen. Instrument panel lights flickered as darkness and numbing silence consumed the cabin. Only groaning, snapping noises crept through the hull of their ship.

“Speak to me, Holcombe,” Moya said, flipping switches trying to restore power.

“Total electrical neutralization — computers, engine drive, inverters and hydraulics are offline, sir.”

“Just before total power loss, gamma indicators spiked,” Gisemba said. “And another thing, the circumference of the Dead Zone field has expanded.”

“Expanded... What do you mean expanded?” Moya said with a scowl.

“One second we were twenty-two nautical miles from the outer perimeter of the DZ and just before blackout, I noticed we were inside it by five miles. It’s like a big hand just reached out and grabbed us. Weird, all indications looks like a flare of radiation... sort of like a solar storm from our sun. A surge from the EMP field caught up to us.”

“My God,” Logan hissed. “Do you think it’ll reach Earth?”

“No, the surge should be temporary, and it’s not as massive as the sun,” Gisemba said.

Moya ran his hand over dozens of buttons on the left side of the cockpit chair to access the hydrogen peroxide gas jets’ control. “It’s pitch black in here, I can’t find the damn panel to the release knob,” he exclaimed. “Holcombe, is your flashlight working?”

“Dead, sir.”

A flickering glow of light approached the hatchway behind them. “What’s going on... why the power loss?” Narayanan asked as he floated toward them.

“Where’d you get the lighter?” Logan asked.

“From one of the Jarheads.”

“Let’s have it,” Logan said and handed it to the captain.

Moya held the Zippo over the left side panel. “Since we have no power, I have to do this manually.” He unlatched the panel, reached in, and operated a small joystick lever with his finger. The jets directed the nose of the spacecraft to rotate a hundred eighty degrees starboard until it aligned with the sun. Once stabilized, he pushed the joystick forward to release an exhaust of gasses out of the aft section. The craft moved forward using side jets to keep the nose from drifting. “Let’s hope that whatever caused this blackout didn’t damage the computers. Lieutenant, monitor the H202 gauges.”

“Aye Cap, volume at ninety percent.”

A deathly quiet fell over the cockpit as Narayanan grabbed an overhead panel to keep from drifting. “How long before power returns?”

“No way of knowing — when we get out of this field,” Gisemba said.

“Dr. Gisemba, I’d like to introduce my ISF associate, Seetharaman Narayanan,” Logan said.

Narrie extended his hand for a shake. “Nice to meet you, sir.”

“Same here.”

The ship drifted another fifteen minutes when the overhead lights returned. “We’re out,” Holcombe exclaimed with relief. “I’m staging the inverters, batteries are in the green, and power is at one hundred percent, A.C. and D.C. buss voltage levels are A-Okay — rebooting computers. All systems are a go, Captain.”

“The electromagnetic radiation level was at a hundred and sixty percent above normal. It is dropping,” Gisemba said.

Moya engaged engine drive. “Dr. Gisemba, since we don’t know what we’re dealing with yet, treat the passengers and crew for radiation sickness. We’ll get a full medical evaluation later. We are heading home.”

Fox scheduled a meeting the next day to find out from Logan what he learned about the strange celestial body. Logan, Narrie, Sims and Dr. Gisemba entered the Omega Tower in Antica City and walked up a flight of stairs to Mr. Fox’s second-floor office.

“Good morning, Mr. Fox,” Sims said.

“Morning everyone, have a seat.”

Gisemba reached over Fox’s desk for a handshake. “We’ve spoken on the phone a few times.”

“I’m pleased to have finally met you, Dr. Gisemba. You came highly recommended as an astrogeologist. Glad to have you aboard this project.”

“Thanks, pleased to be here.”

Fox looked at Logan. “How was the trip?”

“The space around that celestial body isn’t called the Dead Zone for nothing. Anything getting caught too far in it will die. It was very... unsettling, sir. What I got out of going there was seeing what it is we’re dealing with. Dr. Gisemba took some readings and he has the data. When he has something concrete to tell us, we’ll get together and come up with a plan.”

“Did you run into any problems?”

“A weak EMP flare-up neutralized our electronics and lighting. Narrie saved the day with a Zippo.”

“Well now, Agent Narayanan, that was very resourceful,” Fox said.

“Had to be, sir, I’m scared of the dark.”

Logan shook his head and chuckled at Narrie’s lighthearted irreverence. “What have you found out about that rock, Mr. Fox?”

“I took a shuttle to Hygea Base on the far side of the moon. There, I have a more secure place to research the Orion Chronicles database. According to my findings, the celestial body belonged to the Cerran Star on the outermost edge of this galaxy. In the many hundreds of thousands of years as it passed through solar systems, several intelligent species like the Kattamans have attempted exploration. At the moment, I’m in negotiation with their High Council to share what they have learned about the blue glow and the theory of its powerful energy source. When I find out something definite, I’ll set up a rendezvous so you can talk with them.

“The database showed that it has flown through fourteen known solar systems. Two of the reports are from historical folklore on planets that go back before the creation of the Orion Chronicles. Of those recorded, seven systems had at least one class-M planet with highly evolved life forms. Two of those sent reports to the Chronicles.

“The first one is from the Carsessian System. They had long-range surveillance from their orbiting telescope and took photos of activity on its surface.” He reached into a folder and placed three eight-by-ten photographs in front of them. “These are grainy because of the distance. On photo one in the far eastern hemisphere you can see something unusual inside of a meteor crater. It is clearly artificial.”

Logan picked up a magnifying glass and studied the object. “Yeah, I agree. It’s rectangular with a round edge on one end and fin-like protrusions on the other. What’s that white dot in its center?”

“The report says it’s a light reflecting off the surface of the object.”

Logan looked up at him, curiosity beaming from his eyes. He handed the photo to Sims to pass around.

Fox set another picture in front of him.

“The object has moved,” Logan said.

“That was taken ten minutes after the first one. Here’s the third picture.”

“This is considerably farther away and it’s heading in a different direction... interesting.”

“As slow as it’s moving through the galaxy, that asteroid must be ancient with all the known and unknown systems it’s passed through,” Gisemba said.

“I read that it’s estimated to be around ten million Earth years old,” Fox said. “The second report came from the Dagleta System about twenty-eight thousand light years from here. They managed a successful probe to orbit it and then took a manned mission to its surface. The mother ship stayed outside the Dead Zone, receiving transmissions from the landing party. I have eight photos that show terrain ground textures. Here are two I’m very interested in.”

Logan picked up the first one. “Look at this, it’s a close-up of what appears to be a cave entrance.”

Sims looked over Logan’s shoulder, adjusting her eyes to zoom in closer. “That’s artificial, as if it was dug out.”

Gisemba studied it with the magnifying glass. “Yeah, you’re right. The stone appears faceted as though an explosive had blown it apart.”

“There is no denying intelligent life forms made it to the surface several times in its history. The third report is from the Kattamans,” Fox said.

“We have to figure out a way to get a probe to that celestial body and take some current photos,” Gisemba said.

Fox nodded in agreement. “We’ll discuss this further when you find out what the data tells you, Doctor.” He looked at Narayanan. “I’m sending you on a job.”

“Where to... Hawaii, Key West, the Bahamas?”

“Your old stomping ground, Kazan, Russia.”

“Oh great, I’m all out of Russian Belomorkanal cigarettes. Perfect time to pick me up a couple of packs.”

“I didn’t think you smoked,” Fox said.

“Only when I get drunk — which is not very often, but those cigarettes really complement the alcohol.”

Fox raised his brow and glanced at him with momentary fascination. “Right... anyway, I need you to contact a Professor Grigory Romanov at the Kazan University,” he said handing Narayanan a folder.

Narrie opened it to check its contents. He pulled out photos, a bio and personal information, giving it a quick once over.

“Memorize it and destroy it.”

His right eyebrow rose an inch. “Sure thing sir, I’ve seen Mission Impossible.”

“You’ll be on your own. Sims is running an errand and Logan has to go to the Renules High-Tech Center.”

“Oh, so you’re saying this will be a vacation... great, I need one.”

“Professor Romanov has firsthand knowledge of that celestial body. He is one of the foremost authorities in astronomy and astrometry, the studies in measurements and movements of planets and asteroids.”

Narrie nodded, studying the bio of Romanov, and mumbled, “Astrometry... I knew that.”

“The Russian Federal Space Agency Roscosmos called Romanov when they first discovered the cosmic anomaly heading into the solar system. We could use him on the team. Intelligence has reason to believe he wishes to defect.”

Narrie glanced at his bio. “Who could blame him...?”

“You will be leaving tomorrow morning.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Chapter Two

Russia, two days later: Narayanan suspected he was being tailed, leaned on the front seat of the cab and spoke Russian. “Pull over.” He paid the driver. If he allowed Russian SVR agents to follow him to his destination, it would turn bad for his contact. He stepped out into the mass of humanity celebrating World Cup soccer. Commercial engineers designed Bauman Pedestrian Street in Kazan similar to a strip-mall with stores, restaurants, pubs and theaters on both sides of the corridor. Fridays were especially festive with bands playing European pop music at both ends of the mall. He watched a magician interacting with shoppers and vendors selling their wares down its center.

Narayanan strolled to a beverage cart. “A coffee, two sugars and a cream,” he said and gave the man 150 rubles. He walked near a bench to listen to the band while sipping on the hot brew, his eyes shifting right and left scrutinizing the crowd. He noticed three blue-suits standing on the other side of the bandstand with their backs to him. After ten minutes, they disappeared into the crowd. He figured it was time to move on, so he threw the cup in the metal-mesh trashcan and weaved through the sea of people.

The Russian SVR was the external intelligence agency spinoff from the infamous KGB after Boris Yeltsin discontinued it in 1996. SVR took over espionage activities outside of Russia. They knew Narayanan all too well and his presence always concerned them. Before meeting Logan and joining the ISF agency, Narayanan worked for British MI6 and the Ministry of Defense. He had actionable connections in the underground throughout Russia and Eurasia.

There wasn’t a need to look behind to see how close the SVR agents were, he could sense them like radar, giving off a slight buzz in his nervous system. To run now would make him stand out in a crowd of leisure-minded folks out to have a good time. But, his pace picked up a little as though he was late for an appointment.

After a few minutes of weaving around people, his stalkers closed in on him from three sides, herding him toward a prominent looking fellow standing next to a mercantile store. Narayanan recognized the maneuver. He had dealings with this man in the past, a Lieutenant Igor Koslov. His deep-set dark eyes glared at him as he stood at attention; his legs parallel to a straight aligned upper torso, his chin elevated a few degrees in a very military statuesque posture.

“Well, well, if it ain’t Lieutenant Koslov... eat any babies lately?” Narrie said.

“Seetharaman Narayanan — charming to the last. What are you doing in my neck of the woods, hunting or scouting?”

“Neither, I’m on holiday. I kinda’ missed the place. I have to say, though, you’re getting sloppy in your old age. You stick out in those suits like a Russian oligarch at a country fish fry.”

“You did not answer my question.”

He gazed around. “I’m only here for popcorn and soccer. You know how I love the game. I’m taking in all the festivities of World Cup.”

“You are still a very good liar, Agent Narayanan.”

“Hmmm, so it’s agent now... I thought we were old friends, you used to call me Narrie. Now, I can’t tell you how much that hurts my feelings.”

“You will accompany me on a flight to Moscow. General Rasputin is eager to see you again, I’m sure. Maybe I’ll take you to the barbershop and get you a haircut. Then we’ll go shopping for a nice suite. You are an outcrop from the nineteen sixties hippie era. At least you won’t be tortured looking like a bum, Narrie.”

“Is the general still angry at me?”

“That was not a wise thing you did. You made him look bad when you escaped custody and he has never forgotten that.”

Narayanan’s head and eyes furtively shifted around to study the immediate area. Several two-foot beer kegs sat behind Koslov’s legs. To Narrie’s right stood a heavyset Russian SVR. And facing his left side was a tall agent gazing down at him, boxing him in their circle of confinement. Twenty yards ahead and to his left sat a solid line of street vendors. One caught his attention, a spoke-wheel wagon with a popcorn machine and soft drinks on top.

Narrie gazed at Koslov. “Well slick, the general will have to wait. I have a previous engagement.”

Koslov nodded at the agent standing to Narrie’s left. He stepped behind Narayanan wrapping his arms around his chest and lifted him up. Narrie kicked the heavyset one in the groin folding him over and then twisted forward kicking Koslov on the chest forcing him to stumble over the beer kegs. When his feet hit the ground, he stomped on the tall one’s foot that loosened his grip. He bent over and grabbed the Russian’s ankle, pulled it up until the agent fell backward to the sidewalk. With a fast pivot on his left foot, Narrie knocked him unconscious with the swipe of his right heel.

The crowd stampeded in fear. Narrie snatched a blue baseball cap from the head of a man rushing by and melted in with the mass, placing the cap on his head. When he approached the popcorn wagon, he fell to the ground, barrel-rolled under it, stood on the other side and hurried toward the main road.

Over the throng of people crying out in alarm, Koslov shouted, “Halt — halt!”

Narayanan rushed down a connecting side passageway to the main road, flagged down a cab and climbed in the back.

“Where to?” the cabbie asked.

“The Red Tavern on Pushkin Street and step on it.” As the cab passed the end of Bauman Street, the flow of people streaming to escape the perceived danger looked like a scene from an apocalyptic movie. The band on stage ignored the distress and continued to play without interruption.

Twilight cast its hue over the area as the taxi made a left on Pushkin and drove several blocks, stopping in front of the tavern. He paid the fare, stepped out onto the sidewalk, and sauntered into the establishment. A booth next to the window made a perfect station for observing any suspicious visitors. After a beer and thirty minutes of listening to popular music on a sound system, he strolled through the kitchen. He came under several verbal assaults by a cook and two waitresses, and he apologized for their inconvenience before pushing through the exit door and into the back ally.

Pushkin Street was several blocks from the university. Within a ten-minute walk, he saw the floodlights that lit up the Kazan Federal University. The majestic architecture of the white painted façade with its multiple tall columns stood out as a first rate institution of higher learning. He passed by the monument of Vladimir Lenin with his engraved stoic expression and steel cold eyes.

The shadowy view of an ancient Kazan Kremlin on the horizon caught his attention. When most people hear the word Kremlin, they think of the very colorful Moscow fortress. It’s the one readily recognized over the world as the symbol of Russia and the seat of the president. Moscow’s citadel includes five palaces, four cathedrals, the wall with towers, the Grand Palace and the offices of the government. Kremlin means citadel of any Russian city. It has twelve throughout the country.

Narayanan turned right at the end of the block, walked a hundred yards, turned right in the back of the university where he walked through the entrance to the Department of Astronomy. He noticed a receptionist behind a counter to his left. His Russian dialect was natural and seasoned. “Miss, where might I find a Professor Romanov?”

She smiled. “Room 126, go straight down this hall and his office is near the end.”

He nodded. “Thank you.” The hallway floor had twelve-inch vinyl tiles, off-white and gray checkerboard design. Long echoes from his footsteps bounced off the hard wall surface. As he approached the open doorway, a man of medium stature, clean-shaven with thick, white hair sat at a desk. He appeared to be writing in what seemed to be a ledger. Upper middle aged to early sixties, his complexion reflected a golden healthy tone, not venerable or overly wrinkled. His eyes rose to meet Narayanan’s; they expressed concern and curiosity.

“Professor Grigory Romanov?” Narrie asked in Russian.

He stood, setting the ink pen on the desk. “Yes, I am Romanov. Who might you be?”

“Leonid Sobol, I must speak to you about something of utmost importance.”

“Please, come in.” Romanov walked around to face him at the chalkboard and extended his hand.

Narayanan gave a firm handshake. “Good to meet you, sir. I’ve heard good things about your work.” He had to be cautious because the walls might have ears. Russian intelligence agencies often placed bugging devices near notable people. This especially true for those involved in something as important as the secretive celestial body in the Dead Zone. “I wish to talk with you concerning the Federal Astronomy Association’s convention in Moscow next week.”

“Yes, Mr. Sobol, what about the FAA meeting?”

“My supervisor feels you would have much to contribute to the exchange of theories and research on space exploration and survival. The Russian Space Program is more interested in surviving deep space missions to investigate extraterrestrial presence in our solar system. It is a better direction for us than what those foolish Americans are doing colonizing Mars, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes... consideration for my attendance would be an honor. I always look forward to stimulating debates on what might await humankind beyond our planet.”

Narrie pinched the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Are you all right, Mr. Sobol?”

“I get these horrible sinus headaches from time to time. Something in this building is aggravating my allergies. Would you mind taking a walk in the cool night air? It’s hard for me to think when I’m like this.”

“That’s not a problem, let me grab my jacket.”

As they walked down the hall toward the foyer, Narrie felt the need to make small talk. He could sense Romanov’s uneasiness over his presence. It’s not considered a good sign when a stranger approaches you after working hours no matter what their intent is. “How long have you been teaching astrophysics, Professor?”

“Since modern curriculum has been around... thirty-five years I believe. The thing I like most about working here is this university is open to foreign students. However, a candidate must have superior qualifications to enroll here, which makes it a challenge to teach these little geniuses.” He laughed just above a whisper.

Narrie followed Romanov through the door and out on the sidewalk where they strolled onto the road. “It’s my understanding you wish to defect to the United States, Professor.”

Romanov stopped. “Who are you?”

Narayanan turned to face him. “Act casual and walk with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“A walk in the night air, remember?”

“Well then, who are you and what do you want?”

“My name is Seetharaman Narayanan and I work for the ISF agency.”

“ISF... never heard of it.”

“Look, there’s not much time. I’m part of an operation to get you out of Russia. America is offering you political asylum and all the protections that go along with it.”

“What makes you think I want to go to America? Besides, I don’t know who you are. I’d be some kind of fool to ruin my life on some stranger’s say-so.”

“I know about your wife. My sincerest condolences — I heard she was a wonderful woman. As a political activist, they sentenced her to five years in prison for speaking out against the State for religious injustices on the Jewish population. She died while in detention under suspicious circumstances.”

“Veronika followed her convictions for freedom from tyranny for people of all faiths to practice their belief in God.”

“Right or wrong, she made the mistake of naming a prominent government official in the Kremlin of egregious transgressions against some Jews. Utkin falsely accused her of spreading propaganda about him and the Russian State.”

Romanov gazed at the ground in thought. “I miss her terribly.” After a few moments, he raised his head and focused on the here-and-now. “Where are you going with this?”

“Researchers in the CIA submitted studies on you. Considering all the factors, including the unjustified death of your wife, they believe there is a seventy-five percent chance you wish to defect. That means the odds are three out of four. If I were a betting man, it’s sure-money.”

“What kind of interest would the CIA have in me? I’m just a teacher, a professor that has no political or military ties.”

Narrie pulled out a folded sheet of paper and handed it to him. “There are a number of people interested in you, sir. Your studies and in-depth knowledge of the celestial body in the Dead Zone may be crucial to finding out what it is. There is a certain powerful organization that wants to know what that bluish glow is coming from its center.”

Romanov opened the paper, seeing that it was an official document from the American Embassy in Moscow. The embossed seal in the upper right-hand corner confirmed its authenticity. Hmm, the ambassador signed it and it says that I am granted asylum and given safe passage to the United States. “What about my daughter, Tanya? I cannot leave her behind. Some people will scorn and treat her unfairly.”

“I can take everyone in your immediate family. There may be another consideration for leaving, Professor.”

“What would that be?”

“Scientists believe the celestial body is on a collision course with Earth. There is an eighty percent probability it’ll happen. Again, sure-money on the odds. Do you think Russia has the best chance to prevent such a catastrophe?”

“Oh my God, how long?”

“Two and a half years.”

Romanov took a deep breath and gazed around the campus. “I shall miss this place and most of all, my students. What do I have to do, Mr. Narayanan?”

“After you leave here next Wednesday, go straight to your apartment and stay there. There is no immediate danger of the SVR questioning you yet. Given your involvement with the alien celestial body, they might watch you, so do nothing out of the ordinary. Intelligence always picks up changes in personal habits. Pack to travel light. Bring some prized possessions if you wish... but only what you can carry in a single briefcase.”

“Who will contact Tanya and how will she know if it is safe?”

“Tanya must show up in front of Krupin’s Restaurant at six-thirty pm on Wednesday carrying just her purse. One of our agents will approach her and call her by name. He’ll shake her hand and give her an Ace of Hearts dated and signed by you right now.” Narrie gave him the playing card and Romanov reached inside his jacket for a pen, wrote on it and handed it back to him.

Narrie stuck the Ace into his shirt pocket and said, “Do not use a telephone to contact, Tanya. Do it in person and away from prying ears. Until next week, Professor.”