by Ballan, Greg
“Mr. Pendelton, you just impressed me, but let me change the scenario slightly. We’ll send some of our people out to you along with a warrant and we’ll let you coordinate the pickup. I’d rather she never gets the chance to say anything to anybody once she’s in custody,” the colonel added.
“I’ll have my man, Conrad, coordinate the effort with your people. Will there be anything else?” Pendelton asked.
There was momentary silence as Ross pondered the question. “Just call us once you have the mark.”
“Will do.”
“Good day, Mr. Pendelton.”
“Good day, Colonel Ross, and send my regards to Lt. Colonel Anderson whom I’m guessing is within earshot of my voice.”
The line went dead and Pendelton sighed. He reached for his own wireless and keyed in a number. “Conrad?”
“Sir,” a voice replied.
“I need to see you as soon as possible. We have a situation needing your special touch.”
Richard Pendelton could almost see Conrad’s ‘Great White Shark’ smile as the man responded.
“I’m on my way.”
Chapter 12: Gestation Day 44
Day 116 on the human infant development scale
Erik Knight spent the bulk of his morning making phone calls. He called his superior at Denton, Marques and Priscoli and reported the attempt on his life at Logan. He chastised the law firm supervisor about the continual breaches in their security. Then he checked on his daughter and then with Alissa. She was still having the same premonition only it was more intense. He was clearly in hybrid mode in her visions battling against several alien constructs. The moving black wall was still a mystery.
Erik requested data on the alloy used in the construction of his newest weaponry. He was informed that polymicrobonded-carbon weapons, still in the final stages of development, were months away from prototype construction. Several CIA weapons specialists had expressed an eager desire to study the detective’s new acquisitions.
Denton personally grilled him about his claim that the Muslim fanatics in Paris were not behind the threats on Monique LaSalle. Denton swore that the intelligence they had received from the government had been checked, double-checked and then reaffirmed through French Intelligence. Erik told the old man to go back and check it a third time because they were all wrong. He hung up. Every agency both foreign and domestic had swallowed the bogus leads. That was indicative of a new and powerful player in the international community. This new player wanted to test those already playing the game, observe and take notes.
The detective’s mind wandered back to last evening when he escorted Sarina back to her nightclub. He found her company and her conversation intriguing. She was well schooled and remarkably sharp witted. In his mind the only woman who could rival her beauty was the one he had married. But this woman was responsible for two attempts on his life and probably orchestrated the murder of several other people. Now they were forced together as allies – and he found the prospect not distasteful. In the field, one had to adapt to every change in circumstance.
Listening to her talk about her cause and its ‘nobility’ alarmed him. As much as he hated to admit it, the woman had some very valid points, but he wasn’t knowledgeable enough to debate the finer points of the West Bank, Jerusalem and the Palestine state. He only knew that innocent people on both sides were dying, and young Palestine children were blowing themselves up along with innocents, in the process. Sarina and her associates had built a profitable business of mercenaries and contractors for hire to support and fuel the fire surrounding the Middle East controversies. In the end they’d agreed to the uneasy détente until this crisis passed.
He stepped out of the shower and quickly dressed. He no longer hesitated about carrying his weapons; he went to the dining room fully armed. As he walked into the large dining hall, he drew stares from the president and his aide but looks of approval from the three French security guards who were also visibly armed. As per yesterday’s understanding, nobody touched their food until Erik took several deep breaths – his olfactory senses sampling every air molecule for a toxin. He nodded that all was well, and everybody began to eat.
Monique LaSalle assessed the visible weaponry he and the three guards carried. “Gentlemen, where’s the war?”
“The war, young mademoiselle, is here, protecting you from harm,” René, the lead French security specialist provided.
Erik raised his coffee mug in a salute to the Frenchman. “Well said. The game is different now, Monique. We no longer know who the enemy is. The threat could come from anywhere, at any time. The last two attempts on your life should have made that clear.”
Erik sensed her emotions. He wasn’t trying to, but they were audible to him. The young woman was afraid for her life, not even finding security in her palatial home. She felt vulnerable, but he decided to wait until they had a more private moment before talking with her.
President LaSalle looked at his daughter. “You seem troubled, my daughter.”
She looked up quickly, her porcelain skin reflecting the light from the overhead chandelier. “No, Papa,” she lied. “It’s just that there is so much to do before the party tomorrow.”
President LaSalle laughed heartily. “I will delegate two of the staff to be completely at your disposal today. They will help you with anything you require.”
“Thank you, Father,” she answered quietly and averted her gaze.
The president shot Erik a look of paternal concern. Erik understood exactly what the president wanted which was exactly what he had intended: Stick to Monique LaSalle like glue for the next few days.
After breakfast, Erik spent several minutes reviewing security plans with his three associates. When the president motioned that his daughter was leaving the dining hall, Erik excused himself and followed the young debutante.
“Monique?” He closed the distance separating them.
When she turned to look at him, there were tears in her eyes. She turned away quickly, hiding her face.
Erik gently placed a hand on her shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with being scared,” he whispered.
“I’m not just scared, Erik. I’m terrified. If I attend this social tomorrow, I’ll be killed. I don’t want to die.”
He gently wrapped his arms around her. “I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you safe. You also have René, Jean-Luc and Paul – good solid men – as well as some Arab security specialists coming over tomorrow to assure that the party will run smoothly. You’ll have representatives from three different countries protecting you. You’re pretty special to warrant that kind of attention.” He gently tousled her hair. “You’ve got to believe me that you will be safe.”
“I believe you,” she whispered. “But I’m still scared.”
“We all get scared.”
“Even you? With all your strength and skill?”
“Yes, even I get scared at times,” he answered honestly. “No matter how strong or how powerful someone is, no one is immune to fear. Fear’s a natural reaction to danger that we use as a self preservation mechanism.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” she cocked her head slightly.
“I don’t know. Did it?”
“No.” She gave him a pointed look. “You make a lousy shrink,” she added as she leaned her head against his shoulder.
“I’ll do better next time.”
* * * *
Colonel Ross walked over to the threshold of Hangar Bay 12 followed by Lt. Colonel Anderson and several staff members. The men negotiated their way past experimental aircraft that were being developed under the vast protective umbrella of ‘Black Program’ status. The objective today was different; their focus was an unearthly craft.
The craft the military downed several months ago was now moments away from being opened. Ross was full of anticipation as he walked over to the west side of the hangar where the silver thirty-foot-diameter disk lay surrounded by multiple compu
ters, power cables and other human technical equipment. Ross approached the lead technician who was studying some readouts and asked, “Are we ready, captain?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then let’s get going.”
A few technicians approached the silver disk and reached out toward the alien metal. The captain touched the craft in four distinct places, following a precise geometric pattern. The vessel chirped, and the metal skin flowed apart like liquid, revealing the spacecraft’s interior. All applauded as a dark gray ramp extended from the alien vessel and stopped when it touched the hangar floor.
“We did it, Bill!” Ross turned to Anderson and slapped him joyfully on the back. “We’re back in business.”
Ross and Anderson followed the pre-selected technical group up the ramp and into the spacecraft. The internal damage from the downing of the spacecraft was no longer evident. At first glance, the vessel appeared fully functional; panels glowed, shifting through the various spectrums of color.
The alien craft was a stark contradiction to any human spacecraft. There were no visible awkward welds or bulkheads or bulky heat shielding that was required to protect spacecraft upon reentry to Earth’s atmosphere. The group paused, awed by the sheer alien feel of this environment.
A large round orb, hovered above their heads, glowing a steady rhythm of green, blue and then purple. The orb seemed suspended in mid air by some unknown principle of alien science and technology. No power conduits or plumbing of any kind were visible to indicate the transfer of electrical power or propellant.
The ship was a vast array of dichotomies to human understanding. Its beauty overwhelmed the scientists, and each man marveled at the vessel’s simple but beautiful elegance. However, all were totally flummoxed as to how such a craft could function.
The captain, a mathematical genius, then walked over to the far end of the craft and carefully examined one particular glowing panel. He waived his hand over the panel and then attempted to mimic the gestures that had gained them entrance. His effort failed. He tried touching several different symbols on the panel but it remained dark. He looked over at Ross and shrugged his shoulders helplessly.
“I believe this panel is the main buss to the drive systems, but I simply don’t know how to activate the unit. I’m assuming these symbols are all part of a complex language based on some mathematical or geometrical constant. Some symbols are parts of basic geometric patterns, while others represent universal mathematical constants. The pattern we used to gain access to the ship was a simple diamond pattern at four specific points on the ship’s outer hull. The symbols on these panels can make virtually any shape found in our geometry, and the other symbols are just other, bigger parts of the bigger mystery.”
“It’s all right, captain.” Ross declared. “We’ve got plenty of time to further explore all the secrets this baby has.”
Ross recalled the precise sequence that fired up the ship’s propulsion system and gave them access to an array of advanced technology. Ross waved his hands over adjoining panels that came to life. Inside the ship, a system began to moan.
On another flat control panel Ross pressed three geometric symbols. The ship shrieked in response, and the men had to cover their ears. Then the entire vessel began to vibrate and shudder.
Ross turned to the captain. “What’s happening?” he asked above the alien cacophony. He uncovered his ears to catch the captain’s response.
“I don’t know, sir,” the captain said, “but I’d say we triggered an alarm of some kind. Did the alien tell you how to deactivate it?”
“No, he hasn’t.” Ross re-covered his ears and yelled to the group, “Let’s get out of here. This shrieking is splitting my skull.”
The team fled from the ship and watched the noisy vessel, helplessly.
Something grew from the top of the smooth silvery hull. It looked like a silver daisy. The air above the craft parted, revealing a midnight blue rift in the air around the spacecraft. The silver daisy fired a bright red beam for three seconds. After the beam stopped the rift in the air sealed itself. The vessel fell into silence. The access ramp receded back into the ship, and the door they had opened earlier melted, flowing back together again.
Muttering to himself, Ross walked back over to the ship and touched the same sequence in the same spot as the captain had before. Nothing happened. He tried again in desperation yet the ship refused to respond. They were locked out again. Colonel Ross’s body trembled with rage; the alien had played him for a fool.
“Captain, try the sequence at various points around the ship’s hull. If after an hour you can’t get in, break out the Barium-Argon laser. If that doesn’t work, use an EMP projectile. Blow another goddamned hole in it if you have to,” Ross shouted. “I want to be back in that ship within the next twenty-four hours or I’ll blow it to bits and we can study the fragments.”
The military scientists gaped at him open-mouthed.
“Move it!” He turned on his heels and marched toward the detention center. It was time for another chat with Specimen 4. This time he would kill the little nuisance if he didn’t get what he was looking for, and if Phelps tried to interfere again his life would be extinguished as well.
* * * *
Gray sat in his cell satisfied. His telepathic receptors had detected the distress beacon sent through inter-dimensional space. His people would detect the ship’s beacon and a probe would be dispatched to investigate the source of the signal. The probe would eventually detect his presence, despite the human efforts to keep him isolated from the outside. His people would be coming for him. But Gray knew that the colonel, in all probability, was also on his way to his cell.
His fellow inmate’s situation was just as dire as his. The odds of her surviving her Esper-human pregnancy looked very slim. If she did survive the pregnancy she would, in all probability, be terminated.
Her offspring would be studied and prodded like a lab specimen. The military could not allow the Esper-genetic construct to achieve maturity because they would not have the ability to contain a mature warrior. The inherent bioelectric power that an Esper warrior was able to generate on their home world was staggering; if these Esper/human hybrids had that same capability on Earth, they would be deadlier than any human weapon.
Gray considered the possibility the Esper-child would have a genetic link to its biological father. Such a mental link would be more powerful than mere telepathy. When the child came to term, the father would sense it. If the child felt threatened in any way, the raw, untamed emotion would be transmitted like a wideband distress call. Shanda Knight’s mate would hear that call, and neither the miles nor telepathic shielding that separated the two would mean anything.
The child’s sire would feel his offspring’s fear and panic as if it were his own and Knight would come running. There was a great probability that the birth or harvesting of the hybrid child would be the eventual doom of the human scientific activity at this outpost. Who would destroy the humans first? An enraged hybrid Esper warrior or his own people’s defensive hardware?
The massive, titanium door hissed open. Sergeant Phelps stepped back, allowing Colonel Ross to step through the doorway, followed by three very unpleasant-looking soldiers. Two soldiers carried assault rifles while the third held a Tazer weapon. The alien quickly appended another equation to his mental probability exercise; would he be alive to see either of his hypotheses come to pass? The look on the Colonels face conveyed that the outcome of his survival was questionable – at best.
* * * *
Ross charged the clear barrier, shouting, “You lied to me!”
The alien walked over to the keyboard and began tapping out a message: You are a fool, human. I simply used your own greed and hunger for power against you. Had you been thinking clearly you would have realized that I would never give you that which you so desperately desire.
The colonel’s face turned a dark shade of red and his whole body began to tremble. “Give me one reas
on why I shouldn’t have these men fry your little gray carcass into cat food. When these men start torturing you, you’ll be begging them to kill you.”
Gray ignored Ross’s taunts as he typed: Even now you are not thinking clearly. Your first concern should be, what occurred on the ship? What the beam was for? He spared a glance at the colonel who now wore a questioning look. I shall tell you, human. It was a distress call to my people. They are on their way to rescue me. It would serve you better to have a live hostage for negotiation than have no hostage at all. Be forewarned; if you kill me my kind will surely act out against your entire planet. Your kind has already committed an act of war by attacking my ship.
“And you’ve committed an act of war by invading our space and abducting our citizens,” Ross replied.
Gray typed out his answer: There have been several of our species that have violated our laws of study and observation. But if you kill me, you will not be alive to make those grievances when my people arrive to take me away. Is this really what you want? Is there that much personal satisfaction to be gained by torturing me – killing me? If you feel you must, I will die knowing that your days will be few.
Gray then eyed Ross who seemed to be considering his typed message. As if reaching a decision, the colonel spoke, “We’ll see, alien. You’ve bought yourself some time, that’s all. We caught you easy enough and we’ll have the same element of surprise for others like you who decide to come calling.” He gestured his men out the door then he stared at Arthur Phelps with a look of contempt. Phelps averted his eyes at his superior’s look and sighed.
Having bluffed the colonel well enough to buy a few more hours of life, Gray retreated into the corner of his cell to ponder how long it would take his kind to free him. The human weaponry, though primitive in its architecture and principal, could potentially damage Observer ships and ground cruisers. The satellite that had blasted his ship from the sky would appear harmless to any incoming vessel. A confrontation was inevitable. He would have to wait and see how events played themselves out. The next few days were going to be interesting.
