by Shain Carter
“That isn’t Anjawan,” Meredith said. “Look how tall those buildings are.”
“It sure isn’t,” Krieger agreed, pointing to the burning spires. “That’s the Kai Jaber mosque. It’s in the city of Ai Kursai, in southern Iraq. About two months ago there were some anti-government protests down there. Mustafi responded by shelling the city nonstop for two days. Now he’s trying to pass off some footage of that as something we did last night.”
The scene returned to the news studio. “Mustafi characterizes the action as illegal,” the anchor continued, “and has called on the U. N. to condemn what he calls the latest example of unprovoked U. S. aggression against his people and their chosen government.”
Krieger walked back to the television and muted it. When he returned, Dawson introduced him to Meredith.
“I don’t get it,” Meredith said, motioning back to the television. “What about the research facility - and the plutonium? Why didn’t she say anything about that?”
Krieger grinned. “You heard all that anyone’s going to hear about this mission, ma’am. Your kind hearted Uncle Sam wouldn’t want to worry any little old ladies about something as unpleasant as a plutonium threat to the nation’s capital. But the Pentagon can’t hide the fact that there was a military operation in a foreign country, so they did what they do best - they made up a believable cover story. It’s a good story, too, because it serves everyone’s purposes. It neatly explains our actions to our allies, and for Iraq, they’ve been trying to win more Arab support recently, so Mustafi would be a fool not to go along with a chance to claim the U. S. is beating up on him. By the next news cycle John Q. Public will forget about the whole thing.”
“That’s it, then? End of story?” Meredith asked, clearly disturbed.
“That’s right, end of story.” Krieger’s voice was suddenly serious. “And it’d be better off for everyone if we kept it that way.”
Krieger excused himself and went over to the marines, joining in their banter about the mission. Dawson and Meredith took a seat at their table, and Dawson told her about the marines landing, the short fire fight and the recovery of the plutonium. When he finished, she told him about their wait for rescue. Like Dawson, they had spent the time nervously listening to the sounds of the night, constantly fearing that an army patrol would find them. Meredith did the best she could to keep the wounded men comfortable and to calm Andy and Cindy.
As she finished, the door into the cafeteria swung open and a man in a white uniform entered the room. He carried a clipboard and as he passed their table Dawson saw a red cross stitched to his shirt sleeve. The man glanced at Meredith and she stood, but he walked past the table, straight to Krieger. The two men walked to the far side of the room and spoke quietly together.
Meredith nodded towards the new man as Dawson stood. “That’s the medic I told you about,” she explained, “the one who was going to let me know how the others are doing.”
Meredith and Dawson strained to hear what the two men were saying, but they were too far away. After a few moments the men stopped talking and walked over to Dawson and Meredith, who were still standing uncertainly next to their table.
“How are they?” Meredith asked before either man had a chance to speak. They exchanged glances, then the medic spoke.
“Overall, pretty good, all things considered. The man with the shoulder wound - he’s doing fine. He lost some blood, but the wound is superficial. He’ll be very sore for a long time though, and he’ll need some physical therapy before he regains complete use of his arm.
“The guy who was beaten - Mr., ahhh,” the medic looked down at his clipboard. “Becker. He took one hell of a thrashing, but he didn’t end up with any internal bleeding or broken bones, besides his nose, of course. He was in deep shock when we got him, and whoever tended to him on the ground probably saved his life. The doctors are working on him right now, trying to stabilize him. But they’re sure he’ll be all right.”
The medic shuffled through the papers on his clipboard before he continued. “And the last guy - the one with the anemia problem. Seems he hasn’t been taking his medicine for quite a while. The boys in hemo are still trying to figure him out, but once they do they ought to be able to straighten things out for him soon. At any rate, he’s in no real danger.”
“But that’s not the last one,” Meredith said. “There’s still one more - Burt Singleton. He came in with the leg wound.”
The medic’s gaze shifted to the floor, and Krieger cleared his throat. “Singleton’s condition was a lot worse than it looked,” Krieger said softly. “The bullet grazed the main artery in his leg. Sometime during the night the artery tore, and he lost a lot of blood. By the time he got here there was nothing the doctors could do for him.”
Meredith’s face paled. “He’s dead?”
Krieger nodded. “Just a couple minutes ago. They did everything they could, but his condition just got worse and worse. I’m very sorry. The man died a hero - he literally saved millions of lives.”
A rush of jumbled emotions raced through Dawson’s mind as he took in Krieger’s words. Burt had put them through a hell of a lot. He had duped them into a wild goose chase and had almost gotten them killed in the process. He had manipulated Dawson, falsely raising his hopes that his green flame fuels would actually be used - that they would be an essential component of a program that changed all of mankind. He had counted on Dawson failing, not succeeding, on his program.
Over the last few days, as the truth trickled out, Dawson grew to truly hate the man. Yet he had also, unknowingly, grown to respect him. Whether he liked it or not, Dawson had been wrong about Burt. As Meredith had said a few nights before, Burt was only doing what he felt he had to do, without any malice towards any of them. The interceptor program may have been a total failure from a green flame viewpoint, but the program did, in fact, benefit mankind - just not in the way Dawson had expected. The overall program saved millions of innocent lives and prevented untold suffering, and the green flame part of the program was essential to that success - his green flame work had benefited mankind, just in a different way than Dawson had expected. Burt did what he had to do, and did it amazingly well, using abilities that Dawson never would have ever guessed he possessed, and he had given his life in the process. Dawson had to admit that, despite everything, he admired the man for it.
Krieger cleared his throat again, interrupting Dawson’s thoughts. “I’m afraid there’s some protocol that we need to follow in a situation like this.” His voice was apologetic and strained. “When an agent has… that is, when an agent is unavailable for debriefing, we must separately interview everyone who has some knowledge of what happened. I know you’ve been through a lot, but until we can interview you, we’ll need to keep you two separated. It’s to keep you from changing your stories.”
Dawson suddenly realized that he did not want to be separated from Meredith. They had been through a lot together, and the last thing he wanted now was to be alone. One glance at Meredith told him that she felt the same.
Krieger misinterpreted the concern he saw on their faces. “It’s not that we think you have anything to hide, or are going to collude to make up a story,” he added quickly. “It’s just that it’s human nature to talk about things, in a situation like this - an emotional situation that you’ve shared. And when you talk about it, when you trade stories, then you begin to pick up things from the other person and subconsciously change your memory of what happened to better match what the other person is saying. We end up with just one version of what happened, instead of two. We lose information, and when a man has died we want to learn all we can from it.”
Krieger gestured to Meredith. She stepped past Dawson, paused, then turned back to him, a tired, frustrated expression on her face. Dawson stared back at her, and she wordlessly turned to Krieger. He led her to the door and opened it. For the first time in years, Dawson felt alone. Not just by himself, but truly alone.
The medic
motioned Dawson to the door. “Let’s see if we can’t find you a comfortable place to unwind. You must be exhausted after what happened last night.”
Dawson nodded. “I’m exhausted after what happened over the last three months.” The medic laughed politely. Dawson jerked his thumb towards the children. “What about them?”
“Don’t worry,” he assured him. “They’ll get first class treatment from here on out.”
The two men stepped into the hall, and the medic led Dawson back out of the structure the way Dawson had come in. When they emerged onto the deck, the sky was bright and radiant. The sun had risen well above the horizon while they were inside, and the rain clouds had dissipated. The still-wet metal deck shimmered brightly under the deep blue sky. A short distance away, sailors with rags and mops were cleaning the deck.
“They know we’ll be pulling out today,” the medic explained, “moving on to a new assignment. It’s an old Navy tradition, before starting a new mission they clean the ship up. They’re washing away the old mission. It’s a way for them to get a fresh beginning. And what a great day for a fresh start.”
Dawson looked around at the sparkling sea, the glistening deck and the clear sky. The rain had cleansed everything, the ship, the air, even Dawson’s spirit. He sucked in a lung full of the clean sea air and stretched his arms wide. Looking ahead, he saw Meredith and Krieger in the distance, disappearing back into the ship.
“Yes,” Dawson agreed, “it’s a great day for a fresh start.”
Epilogue
None of the wounded men was in serious condition, and by late morning doctors aboard the Brandywine had each of them stabilized. That afternoon the entire group was transferred by helicopter to a NATO airbase near Rome. The next thirty-six hours were spent alternating between periods of rest and intense debriefing by U. S. intelligence officers. Finally, nearly three days after escaping the Anjawan research complex, the survivors of the interceptor program were flown back to the United States.
Their first stop was Washington, D. C. There, in a small chapel on the White House grounds, a memorial service was held for Burt Singleton. In addition to the scientists, the service was attended by Burt's parents, his sister, and a number of high ranking government officials, including the President himself. The President gave a short eulogy praising Burt for his service and sacrifice to the American people, then spent nearly thirty minutes consoling the family. On his way out, he personally thanked each member of the interceptor team for their role in the success of the mission. After the service, Burt's ashes were scattered over the Potomac River.
Cindy Becker, now in high school, has developed a strong interest in the sciences. She hopes to study engineering at MIT after she graduates. Her brother Andy is also interested in the sciences and has won a number of local and nationwide grade school science and engineering competitions.
Alec McPherson returned to his house on the Chesapeake Bay. Over the course of several months, his doctor was able to return McPherson’s blood chemistry to a near-normal range. McPherson, however, never completely recovered from his ordeal in Iraq. Physically and mentally ailing, he died quietly in his sleep just days before the first anniversary of their rescue.
Derek Becker, in his own way, never recovered from the interceptor program either. The deception and the ensuing disappointment left Derek a deeply cynical man and precipitated a profound change in the way that he interacted with the outside world. Formerly a flamboyant publicity seeker, eager to take on popular causes, he withdrew completely from society and entrenched himself in a self-imposed exile on his Montana ranch. Initially the tabloid press had a field day with this sudden change, referring to Derek as a modern day Howard Hughes and reporting highly exaggerated accounts of his supposed eccentricities. The public soon grew weary of these stories, and the press eventually left Derek alone. For his part, Derek refused to meet with anyone whom he did not know prior to the interceptor program. Even with his previous acquaintances, he was very selective about whom he would see and what topics they would discuss.
Ted Krezler returned to the University of Hawaii. He scaled back considerably his navigational work on NASA's interplanetary probe missions, turning his attentions instead to the design and implementation of the Deep Space Telescope Array, or DSTA. This array of seven space-based telescopes has a resolving power two orders of magnitude greater than the Hubble Space Telescope. The cost of the DSTA was high and securing funding was difficult. Congress eventually accepted the program as the first component of an elaborate early-warning system for detecting comets and asteroids that are on a collision course with earth. The stated mission of DSTA program is to locate, identify and analyze these so-called near earth objects. As DSTA mission head, however, Krezler has quietly scheduled a portion of DSTA observation time to scanning for flybys of non-natural objects that originate from outside our solar system.
On her return to the U. S., Meredith Nelson left the California Institute of Engineering and moved to New York City, where she joined the U. N. Commission on Nuclear Proliferation. She currently heads the U. N. Nuclear Inspection Team and has traveled to Iraq on several occasions to monitor their compliance with various U. N. mandates.
Professor Dawson Jones tendered his resignation the day after he returned to South Central University. He immediately checked into an alcohol rehabilitation center and has been sober since. He, too, moved to New York City, where he created, produced and starred in a PBS science program for children. The initial sponsor of the program insisted on complete anonymity, but had deep enough pockets to spare no expense, making this an educational program of unprecedented quality. The money was well spent. Science Jones was an instant success with critics and children alike, and by the middle of the second season it was financed entirely by corporate sponsors. The show has gone on to become the most successful educational program ever, is heavily syndicated, and is the basis for science textbooks used at private and public schools in thirty-two states.
On a warm, bright Sunday in June, nearly two years to the day after they first met, Dawson Jones and Meredith Nelson were married in a small ceremony on her family’s farm in northeast Kansas. Ted Krezler was best man. Derek Becker and his two children were also in attendance. The Jones currently live in a small apartment in Manhattan, overlooking Central Park. They have one daughter.
