by James Harris
His hand rested gently on the fuselage of the scout ship. The transporter was ten feet away. Both spaceships seemed so foreign to this land of oil wells. They were bright silver in a sea of yellow grain.
“We don’t have a lot of time. We have thousands to transition. We cannot spend an inordinate amount of time introducing them back into society.”
“I realize that. It’s difficult to bring in outsiders to replace existing people. It’s a closed shop in Washington. High-ranking people could get suspicious. Also, it would take too long to replace many people. For minor positions, we are safe, but for positions of authority we run the risk of …”
“What do you plan to do?”
He patted the scout ship beside him as if it were an old plow horse. “This vessel is not capable of leaving the planet surface. However, your transporter can. I want you to transport selected personnel to Gamma III.”
“What are you planning?”
“The transition chambers we have here are fine for certain types of transitioning, but we need to preserve the personalities of selected high-ranking government individuals so they continue to appear normal to the outside world. On Gamma III we have more sophisticated and faster equipment. In addition, we have the powerful queen who can properly mesmerize these people.”
“You have selected various people already?”
“Yes. Hundreds.”
“Hundreds! I could only transport seven humans at a time.”
“I know that. We’d best get started.”
When Amonda returned to Gamma III with seven anesthetized passengers, the queen was furious.
“What was Stell thinking? I don’t want these people here.”
Amonda explained what she had been told.
“I am not sure that I agree with Stell on this matter,” the queen said. She peered into the vessel and looked at the glazed half-closed eyes of the captives. “Let’s get them off here. Help me load them onto trolleys.”
They off-loaded the humans, and then proceeded to load another one hundred twenty-five crypt-orbs into the transporter.
“Tell Stell, no more humans are to be sent up here. Have him come back with you on the next trip.”
It was not a request; it was a command.
The queen dealt with the human captives. She picked out the cryptorbs of personnel who had talents in fields like those of the captives.
She had to admit that Stell was correct in his assessment that these humans needed special attention. These were not arbitrary selections. These were hand-picked personnel that had to be assimilated and then returned to specific trusted high-level government positions. Except now they would be sharing their minds with highly intelligent Abishot, ones who were fiercely loyal to the House.
Given the fact that Amonda said that there were hundreds of these people, this process was going to consume a lot of time.
Ten days later, Stell arrived on Gamma III with Amonda.
The queen awaited him on the launch tarmac. Stell bent slightly as he exited the transporter.
“You look as I had expected, only hairier,” the queen remarked.
“Good to see you, too, Majesty.” There was no emotional embrace, only the formal salute of hands across the breast.
“What shall I call you?”
“I am called Corey Wixon down there.”
“Your Signature is strong. I will continue to call you Stell.”
“As you wish, Mother. You wanted to see me? I understand that you have rejected my idea of transitioning the natives up here on Gamma III. I had a good reason …”
“I concur with your reasoning. It is valid. But transitioning them here will take too long.”
Stell was pleased with her agreement. “How do you propose we speed things up?”
“First, you could revert back into your body and help handle the natives down on the planet surface. I understand that your crypt orbits the planet.”
“We can retrieve the crypt.”
“Good. It’s settled, then.”
“Hold on. Not so fast. I agree that we should have the crypt in our possession. However, I’m not prepared to transition back to my old body. Not yet.”
“Don’t be silly. This human body is flawed.”
“Mother, I share this body with another. It’s a consensus, in a manner of speaking. Our two minds are one now.”
“You sound confused.”
“Not confused, really. I’m not decided. I am weighing the pros and cons.”
“What cons could there be?”
“The biggest one is the fact that I am recognized as Wixon. I have power in Washington. I have great influence over my boss, who happens to be head of the National Military Joint Intelligence Center.”
He saw the confusion on her face. “The chief of all the spies. And if this body was disposed of, so would the recognition of Wixon. I fear the power and influence that I enjoy would be lost. Furthermore, my real body is bound to scare them. It would be an alien body.”
The queen was quick to decide. “I will come to your planet. I can process more humans faster down there.”
Amonda and Stell exchanged looks. “Of course. We thought you wanted to wait here and guard the ship.”
“I am needed on the planet more. Amonda, you don’t really need my help to load the remaining Abishot.”
“I can manage,” Amonda said with a straight face. She had done all the work. The queen hadn’t lifted a finger to help, other than supervise the selection.
Stell gestured for the queen to enter the transporter.
“No thank you. I have my own. I will pick up your co-ordinates as I follow you in flight.”
No sooner had she spoken than a sleek spaceship leaped to life. It had been parked unobtrusively along one of the launch area walls. The graceful vessel’s landing lights shone brightly against the tarmac. There was a faint whine of its thrusters as the ship went through its own auto preflight check. It coasted across the tarmac toward them. The ship stopped a few feet from the queen like a dog.
Stell nodded a farewell, crossing his chest with his right arm, and off he and Amonda went in the transporter.
The queen glided toward her ship. The ship’s door swished open and closed immediately behind her, almost clipping her heels. She slipped into the command chair and made herself comfortable. Her Bio-Com hands shook with the vessel’s computer brain.
In tandem, the vessels departed Gamma III toward Earth.
CHAPTER64
Joe Grayer?” a voice squawked through the telephone receiver.
Joe finished his bite of sandwich, choking slightly. He cleared his throat. “Yes.”
“Joe, it’s me – Justin Jones.”
“Justin. How goes it?”
“Good. I have news of your father.”
Joe sat upright. “Yes? What is it?”
“We’ve located him. He’s in a hospital in D.C., under guard.”
At the word hospital a cold dagger stabbed at Joe’s stomach.
“What’s happening with him?”
Justin paused.
“What is it, Justin?”
“He’s not well, Joe. That’s why he’s in the hospital.”
“How sick is he?”
“I’ve seen him. He’s aged horribly. He’s sedated. The drugs they’re giving him may be killing him.”
“I thought they needed him alive and well.”
“So did we. Something in the past few weeks has changed. We’ve heard rumors of a spaceship sighting.”
“I see.”
“We got our hands on classified NORAD transcripts. The military tracked a ship from the moon toward Earth, not the other way around.”
“What do you think that means?”
“Well, when you combine it with the fact that Stell has called off his search for any of us, it sounds to me as if Stell has got himself some reinforcements.”
“True enough. All the more reason for us to rescue Kor as soon as possible.”
“How long do you think we have to get organized?”
“Organized? Joe, you don’t seem to understand. You have no time at all. Take Alpha III and meet me at your favorite hangar at Dulles. By my time, you have an hour to make D.C. I’ll meet you at the airport. Jones out.”
Joe stared at the dead phone. “Jones. Jones! Shit!” He jumped to his feet.
Throwing a change of clothes for him and Hawk into a soft-sided carry-on, he rushed out the door and jumped into his car. He would pick Hawk up at the university on his way to the ship.
True to his word, one and a half hours later Jones met them at a quiet parking lot outside of the rented hangar near Dulles air terminal. He ushered them into his government-issue Ford Fairmont.
Jones was a trusted crewmember of Alpha I. He had integrated with a young Military Policeman, as the stenciled MP sign on his vehicle indicated. This allowed the car unchallenged access to many parts of various military compounds.
“Where are we going?”
“Bolling. It’s an air force and naval base just south of D.C. He’s there. We’re lucky to have found him.”
“How do we know it’s not some kind of trap?”
Jones eyed Hawk in the rear view mirror. “We don’t. All I know is that I had unrestricted access to his room. There are no longer guards posted.”
“It doesn’t really matter if it’s a trap or not, we have to try to rescue him.”
“Joe’s right,” Jones said, more to himself than to the twins. “Kor hasn’t much time left.”
They were waved through at the gate, although Hawk and Joe detected a slight push from Justin Jones. He smiled when he realized they had sensed his use of the Gift.
Jones pointed to a two-story barracks ahead. They parked in the lot out front and the three of them marched across the pavement to the barracks.
It was past ten at night and the watch had changed. The air at this time of night by the Potomac River was chill and damp. The trio entered the building to be greeted by the Sergeant-at-Arms.
“A little late for visiting hours, boys. Come back in the morning.”
“No can do, Sarge,” Jones said. He pushed and they walked past the mesmerized soldier.
The halls were deathly quiet and deserted. Justin took them to the ground floor room 1101. He stood guard outside the room as the twins entered. There was no trick this time. They spotted the figure of their father immediately.
His condition took their breath away. He had lost a lot of weight. His face was skeletal. His mouth was partially open and his eyes were white and vacant. He looked dead.
The twins placed their hands on his forehead. He was alive, but barely. Their eyes met and they pulsed an aura of strength into his skull. His eyes fluttered open briefly, then rolled back in their sockets as his eyelids closed.
The boys sensed his impending death. They became frantic. They pulsed again, then again. The monitoring machines went off the scale. Electricity crackled around the room. A bedside lamp bulb exploded. Joe ripped the intravenous from Grayer’s arm.
Jones popped his head into the room. “We’ve got company. We gotta go, boys!”
The words were no sooner out of his mouth than all hell broke loose. A general alarm sounded and the sounds of shouting soldiers drifted toward them.
“Not again,” Hawk groaned.
Without hesitating, Joe slung his father’s body over his shoulder and moved toward the door.
Hawk, peeking around the corner, waved him back. “No good, Joe. Let’s try the window.” He raised his leg to kick out the window.
“Try unlatching and pushing it open instead,” Joe said.
It opened easily. They crawled through the opening, passing Grayer back and forth to each other.
Meanwhile, Justin was holding off the military guards with a combination of the push and human obstruction, giving the twins enough time to escape.
As they raced toward the parking lot, they saw Jones come barreling out of the infirmary toward the lot.
They were only seconds ahead of their pursuers. Overhead security lights snapped on, making them a very visible target.
The trio piled into the Ford and lay Grayer down on the bench seat in the back. Jones screeched out of the parking lot, following a series of short roads toward the front gate. The roads were suddenly populated with military vehicles.
“Where the hell did all these guys come from?” Jones muttered as he wheeled the car around the roads.
Their front gate escape was cut off as they approached a military guard post. Jones applied heavy brakes along with a radical change of direction. The car careered violently, giving off a cloud of smoke.
Each escape route that Jones attempted was systematically cut off. Their only option became the landing strip island that ran parallel to Perimeter Road.
“Plan B, in case everything went wrong,” Justin said. “Which it has.” He fished out a hand-held radio transmitter and spoke briefly into it. “We have help,” he announced to the twins.
The auto screeched off Perimeter Road and onto the dock. Without slowing, Jones turned right and headed toward the dock’s north end. There, waiting for them, was a small military jet.
The unmarked jet’s idling engines roared to life when Jones’s vehicle was spotted. Its anti-collision lights rotated and reflected brightly off the tarmac.
“This dock is also a runway for certain aircraft with STOL capabilities,” Justin said. “This is one of them. It’s a prototype I borrowed for this mission. It carries six. The pilot is one of us.”
They leaped from the car as it rolled to a stop. Joe carried Grayer and placed him awkwardly inside the aircraft.
“Gotta go,” Jones said, running back to the car. “I’ll act as a decoy and lead them away from here.”
The whining jet began its roll before the boys were even seated.
“Hang on!” the pilot warned over the intercom. “Find a seat and belt up.”
The pilot applied full throttle and the aircraft roared down the short runway.
“We’re not going to make it,” Hawk groaned.
The aircraft neared the end of the dock but had not achieved rotation speed.
“Buckle up, boys,” the pilot yelled with a laugh. “I only have two hours in this bird.”
The twins’ eyes bugged out.
Shots from several guns rang off the side of the airplane. “I hate when they do that,” the pilot said.
The airplane’s wheels reached the end of the paved dock. It appeared as if the plane was going to plunge over the edge. The pilot lowered the nose for more speed. For an instant, the airfoil became more efficient and nosed up. Then the plane began to enter into a stall, shuddering and nosed down. There wasn’t enough airspeed to maintain flight.
The pilot reached over to a second set of throttles and deftly yanked them back. The jet responded with a huge burst of thrust. The nose arched up. The thrust slammed everyone back into their seats.
“Damn! That’s hot!” Joe yelled.
“Knew you’d like that,” the pilot said over the intercom. He reduced the burn and then disengaged the secondary thrust.
They were safely airborne. Bolling dissolved beneath them.
CHAPTER65
After taking off from Bolling AFB, Joe and Hawk tried to talk things over, but their voices were drowned out by the air slip noise. The experimental craft had little in the way of noise suppression, and all one could hear was a rush of howling wind.
Frank Grayer was drifting in and out of consciousness. His condition was grave. He seemed to be aware of the presence of his sons and had attempted a few weak smiles.
“We have to do something or he’ll die,” Hawk said.
“It seems impossible. He was always so strong,” Joe said. “There must be some way we can help him. You’ve seen his powers of recovery, Hawk. We can get him through this! We’ll use the stall.”
“You mean the medic program in the chamber?”
“Yes,” J
oe said.
“Do you know how to make it work?”
“No. But I could learn.”
“Joe, by the time you learn how to cure him, he could be dead. We’re out of time.”
“We’ve got to try something. The stall is the best bet.”
“Not this time. I just know it. Trust my instincts. We’ve got to act … radically.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“His crypt is hidden at the lab back in Los Alamos.”
Joe looked hard at his brother. “You mean, transition his present body back into his old body?”
“What choice do we have?”
“He’ll become some kind of … alien.”
“Joe, he is an alien.”
“This is so creepy. He’s dying but he can live again in another body.”
“Yes. The human body of Frank Grayer is no longer useful.”
Joe looked down at the skeletal form of his father and blinked away tears of painful anxiety.
“Dad told us the procedure was dangerous,” he said. “Neither of us is trained to do transitioning.”
“We could learn, couldn’t we?”
Worried and frustrated, Joe was on the verge of breaking into tears.
“I guess we could. You mean me don’t you? How much time do you think we have?”
“Not much.”
“Exactly. Not much. We’re screwed either way. Either he dies in this body or he dies as we try to transition him back into his old body.”
“You could learn by going into the chamber. It could download the procedure into your brain.”
“Why always me?” whined Joe.
“You’re better at that kind of stuff than I am. I still haven’t figured out how half the things on board the ship work – you know that.”
“What if he doesn’t want to revert back to his past form? What if this is against his will? You’ve heard him talk. He was always so dead set against transitioning back to his old form.”
“I know. He refused to discuss it. But look at him, Joe. He’d choose to live. We all would. He won’t live much longer as Frank Grayer.”
Joe looked at his stricken father. His face was gaunt and ashen, and he was struggling to breathe. Every few minutes his breathing changed to sharp, short gasps. His mouth was open and his tongue lolled inside the cavity like a dead fish.
