by Cindy Combs
The young man had to struggle not to smile when the security officer didn't seem the least bit phased. "Your hosts are on their way down now. Since you were scheduled to arrive tomorrow morning, the members of the party will need a few minutes to reach the gate. In the meantime, I will need to check your papers again." The patch on the officer's left shoulder showed a large black cat in mid-leap, claws outstretched. Not just security then, but one of the military units stationed to protect the projects.
Michaelson glared at the officer as he handed over the papers. Griffin was looking around the complex with a mixture of disgust and boredom. Leeza was studying the attractive guard with lustful eyes, probably wondering how she could get some time alone with him. Oh yes, his group really knew how to make an impression. Then his boss noticed him. "About time, Maxwell," Michaelson snarled as he grabbed the briefcase.
Just then, Mr. Domingez arrived nearly out of breath, followed by a large black man with a round face wearing a uniform matching the first guard. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Michaelson."
"You should be," Michaelson practically snapped. "We have wasted valuable time coming all the way out here." The second guard briefly raised an eyebrow, which was met with a swift eye-roll by the first. Oh yeah, they love us already.
"If you follow me, we have a room for you to set up in. Then Dr. Branson can give you a tour of the facilities." Poor Mr. Domingez was practically vibrating with tension. Considering the near-disasters of the last audit, that wasn't too surprising.
"Maxwell! Grab the office supplies." Michaelson, Griffin and Leeza followed Mr. Domingez, leaving the gopher to handle the bags alone.
A fact not lost on Rafe. No wonder Lane suspected mistreatment. "Here, let me give you a hand." He stooped over, picking up one of the boxes. It was heavy. "What are you guys carrying in here? Rocks?" That kid must be stronger than he looks if he was used to carrying this stuff.
The young man chuckled, "Yeah, it's amazing how heavy paperwork can be." He swung a large bag over his shoulder, and picked up another box. Following the guard, he absently answered questions about the trip as he studied the base. The nicest part was a large courtyard area. Grow lights lined the walls and walkway, nourishing beds of flowers and plants. Suddenly, he dropped the box.
"You okay?" Rafe turned around, noting just how pale the kid looked. He wondered when the teen had last ate.
"I'm fine," he replied, trying to keep the tremble out of his voice. Kneeling down to pick up the lid and the pile of papers that had spilled out, he took another glance at the slim figure sitting on a bench reading. Oh God, it can't be. He looks so thin and pale. But it is him. How? Then he mentally shook himself. Get it together. You're so close. You can't blow your cover now.
Rafe waited until the kid had picked up the box again, then continued to the room. Helping the kid unload the boxes, he glanced over his shoulder to where Domingez was talking with the accountants, suggesting lunch and bragging about Ariel's cooking to lighten the mood. Rafe then softly tapped the young man on the shoulder. "My name is Lt. Rafe Janson," he whispered. "If you need anything, let me know."
"Thanks." Maxwell gave him a quiet smile, then scurried off to follow his group. Rafe shook his head. The kid was about the same age he had been after getting out of the camps. Rafe again felt a surge of gratitude towards the Pendergrasts. But for them, Jim, and the grace of God, he could have landed in a similar situation. Or else have volunteered for the first available suicide mission.
Finishing the book he'd borrowed, BT sighed in boredom. While he wished he could go with Jim on his morning watches, both Jim and Sheree had vetoed the idea. True, he wasn't really up to covering Jim's six mile route in the time he did it. However, he was worried about the sentinel. What if something happened that caused Jim to zone? Jim didn't seem to know when the senses would turn on. In fact, Jim didn't seem to have any control of the senses at all. Standing up, BT started to walk. Somehow, he knew that he could help Jim if he'd just regain his memory and health. While BT felt he would eventually be able to cover the walks with Jim, the memory problem was a lot more iffy.
Pondering his dark thoughts, BT wandered into Evan and Harv's workshop area. He enjoyed spending time with the two men, laughing at their jokes and helping them to install their equipment. They always welcomed him, easily including him into whatever they were doing. It never occurred to BT that his knowledge allowed him to fit in and help them.
Harvey and Evan were standing around their worktable, studying plans Dr. Branson had just rolled out. BT paused, debating on whether to slip back out. However, Dr. Branson had spotted him. "Well hi, BT," he called out warmly. "You want to see what we're working on?"
Intrigued, BT walked up to the table and glanced down at the plans. A long, round modular stretched across the paper. In his mind's eye, BT instinctively knew that this thing would be massive, would rotate slowly to produce a light gravity and keep the skin cool. That this, this ship...
A tall, lanky man with light brown hair and sparkling brown eyes unrolled the paper out on the dinning room table. "I have something I want you boys to look at," the familiar warm baritone voice declared. "It's a project call..."
"Lifeboat," BT whispered.
Nash, Harv, and Evan gave each other startled glances. No one else outside the science team knew what they were working on. "Have you seen this before, BT?" Evan asked.
BT was rubbing his eyes and forehead, trying to grasp the elusive memory. "Someone showed it to me."
"Do you remember who? Where?" Harvey questioned, wondering who it could have been.
BT finally shook his head. "I can vaguely see him. I'm not sure who he is, though." The one who told me Keegan stories, but I'll save that bit for Jim later. Looking up, he noticed the intense scrutiny from the three scientists. "I'm sorry."
Nash gently wrapped his hand around the young man's neck. Massaging the tense muscles there, he assured him, "That's okay, kid. It'll come back. You just have to give it time."
BT struggled to give him a smile. "People keep telling me that. I'm just not sure I believe them."
"Believe it," Nash lightly ordered. "Now, what do you think of our plans?"
BT returned to studying the plans. "Hey, what happened to the stationary solar panel ring?"
"Huh?" Evan questioned.
"What solar panel ring?" Harvey asked. "Did you ever see a ring, Nash?"
Nash tried to hide a smile. "No, but why don't you tell us about it, BT."
Manhaven
Mike Andrews was concentrating hard on the book in his hands. While it seemed that Keegan Jeffery had no heirs, he still hadn't given up on the idea that there was some connection to the legendary guide and Ellison's potential one. After much digging, he had finally come up with a dusty old book discussing sentinel and guide lineage. Surely there had to be a clue here somewhere.
Tess Colton walked into the Human Services department. The large black woman was hoping that with the lunch hour, she could slip through the central room to her office and not receive the pitying and worried looks from her employees. Though her heart was still suspended between grief and denial, she was tired of being treated like fragile glass. She had to continue on, to get back into the fight. She may have lost loved ones, but there were still so many others who needed help.
Looking around, she discovered the desks and chairs empty, except for Andrews in the corner. Mike was a good man, quiet yet strong. He was also the type to forget about little things like eating and sleeping when he was working on something important. Just like another dear boy she had recently lost. She hadn't been keeping informed on Mike's work load like she normally did. Better see what he was doing, and make sure he remembered to eat.
The greeting she'd planned died upon her lips when she caught sight of the book title. "Andrews, why on Roachia are you reading a book on sentinel lineage?"
Mike jumped, then recognized his superior. "Oh, hi Tess. Didn't hear you come over."
"Apparently n
ot," she replied with faint amusement. It warmed Mike's heart to see the beginning of the smile that had been missing for nearly three months. "But you didn't answer my question."
"Oh, um," Mike pulled his thoughts together, so that he could explain to Tess without revealing Jim's secret. "It's due to a case I've been asked to help with. The Panthers S&R unit rescued a young man a few months back from the Roachians. He's had a long recovery, due to the
traumatic injuries and the interrogation drugs used on him."
"Interrogation drugs?" Tess questioned, sitting in a nearby chair. "The Roachians only use them in special cases. What did they want?"
"That's the question. The young man has lost his memory and we haven't been able to identify him."
"So you are looking at sentinel lineage? Isn't that being a little too thorough?"
"Well, he has been having dreams of someone telling him 'Keegan' stories, about the man who guided Harry McHahn, so I thought...Tess?"
Tess' face had turned gray, eyes round with shock. "Mike, WHERE was the young man found?"
"Sealand, a few days after the invasion," Mike answered slowly. "Why? What's wrong?"
Tess leaned over Mike's desk to stare intensely into his eyes. "Do you have a photograph of this young man?"
Puzzled, Mike opened his file on BT and pulled out a picture.
Tess stared at the photo for a few minutes, then lightly ran a finger over the face. "It's a miracle," she whispered softly, tears beginning to flow down her face. "He's alive."
Science Base Delta
He barely heard the tour being give by Dr. Branson. His thoughts were still focused on what he had learned at lunch. By discreet, nonchalant inquiries, he had discovered that the young man was called BT. "Great guy and really smart. He's still recovering from pretty severe injuries," one unknowing informant told him. The food server noted, "Real shame, what the Roaches did to him. Guess he still doesn't remember his name or his past." "Oh yeah, BT was picked up by the Panthers on a S&R into Sealand," a girl next to him had mentioned. "They have kinda adopted him."
Oh man, he's alive. Hurt and without his memory, but alive. Now what am I going to do? If I tell him who he is, that blows my cover and my chance to find Dad. Might even put him in danger, if I am right about what I suspect. I can't allow that, he's not ready to defend himself yet. I can't lose him again. Maybe I could leave a note for Lt. Janson?
Then he noticed the way Michaelson was studying the defensive cannons. Oh hell, is he the traitor? Will he betray this base? Not again. I will NOT let that happen to Blair again.
Joel paused in the doorway of the small guard lounge. Ellison had just draped an afghan over BT, who had fallen asleep. Quietly, Jim walked back over to Joel.
"Another headache?" Joel inquired worriedly.
"Yeah, though he said it was only a two." Jim shook his head. "I'm not too surprised. BT remembered something this morning, and he's been puzzling over it ever since."
Joel nodded. "Harvey told me what happened."
Jim glanced at him. "What did Lane say? BT felt like he had said something that surprised them."
Joel chuckled, "He sure did! Harv said that with one look at the plans, he announced the code name of the project they're working on. A name only their team and the team working on it before should know."
That caught Jim's attention. "So only a select few should know that name?"
"Exactly." The excitement in Joel's eyes matched Jim's. "Also, Evan has finally tracked down which group the security node design came out of. Jim, it's the same team."
"So BT has to be connected to it!" Jim could barely keep his voice muted. A swift glance at his friend confirmed they hadn't awakened him.
"That's what Nash thinks. He has sent a priority message to that team with a picture of BT, inquiring if they can identify him. He and Harv think that BT might be a student that worked for them."
"More than that, Joel. BT connected the man he remembers telling him about the plans as being the same one who told him Keegan stories."
"Damn," Joel whispered. "Family? Foster family? Family friend?"
Jim shrugged. "Who knows? With a little luck, whoever it is will see the picture Branson sent and come forward. Perhaps if BT actually sees the man in person, his memory will start clicking. If nothing else, he can at least give BT his name and tell him who he is." A tiny wave of fear washed over him. If BT found out who he was, would his family and past reclaim him? Would he leave the sentinel behind? Jim pushed that thought away. It was too selfish to keep BT from his family. While the sentinel had bonded with the guide, the guide didn't even know he WAS a guide. Perhaps he wasn't, until he recognized Jim as his sentinel. Only BT could make that decision.
"Hey, Jim, did you hear that those accountants arrived a day early?"
Casually, the young man kept an eye on his boss for the rest of the day. After running poor Mr. Domingez ragged, Michaelson finally called a break for the day at suppertime. He barely noticed the wonderful casserole he was eating. If Michaelson was the traitor, this evening would be a good time to do his dirty work. He had to stay sharp, and prevent the treason from occurring.
Too bad he had no one to contact about this. He had been uncomfortable with this 'no backup' situation from the start, but really hated it at this moment. Briefly, the thought of finding Blair and telling him crossed his mind. But no. Blair didn't know him right now, and it would only place him in danger, too. A pang of hurt ran through his heart. He had always been able to go to Blair when in trouble. Now, he still had to be on his own to protect him.
Michaelson rose from the dinning hall chair, and strolled alone to the exit. He quietly stood and followed.
"Do you play five card stud, Sanchez?" Rafe gave the shorter man an almost predatory glance.
Evan's dark eyes narrowed playfully back as they walked down the hall. "I've played a time or two. How about you, BT?"
"I'm not sure," BT stated thoughtfully. "What are the rules?"
"Oh, oh," Jim replied. "Why do I think BT is going to clean us all out?"
The four men laughed, sharing the joke. Then suddenly, Jim came to a dead stop. BT and Rafe immediately noticed and turned back. Evan had taken another step before realizing the others were no longer with him.
"Jim?" BT questioned, lying a hand on his arm. He noticed the sentinel's nostril flare. "What do you smell?"
Huh? Evan looked around, not smelling anything.
"Roaches."
Rafe and BT shot worried glances at each other as Evan became more confused. "The only ones you haven't checked out yet are the accountants," Rafe commented slowly. "A couple of those guys are big."
"What direction, Jim?" BT asked calmly, though his chest was squeezed by fear.
"This way," Jim replied, turning down the hall. Rafe and BT dashed after him, Evan tagging along to find out what was going on.
Michaelson ducked into a small storage room they had passed on the tour. The young man's eye's narrowed. He could think of absolutely no reason why his boss would go in there. Except one.
Slipping into the room, he paused a moment, trying to orient himself. A soft 'click' led the teen to the right. Around a tall pallet of supplies, his boss stood next to a crate. On the top, Michaelson sat a small metal device on its three squat feet. He was pulling up a thin antenna from the back.
Oh my god, that's a Roaches' radio! Instantly, he grabbed a nearby crowbar. There was no thought, no time as he raced towards the danger. The radio flew from the crate with a swoosh. Next thing he knew, he was thrown into the crates several yards away, winding him. Fighting to regain his breath, he stared across the room at his furious boss.
"MAXWELL! What do you think you are doing?"
"Me?" he gasped, then took another deep breath. "What do you think YOU were doing? Calling in an airstrike on this base? Setting up another abduction for Dr. Branson?" He struggled to stand, still breathing heavy.
"My, you have quite an imagination," Michaelson spoke ters
ely. "You should go to bed before you embarrass yourself, boy."
"Embarrass myself? I know a Roach radio when I see one." Concentrating on the large man in front of him, he missed other movement in the area. "I just want to know what happened to the scientists you set up."
His boss shrugged. "I don't know. I just do the targeting."
"Damn you!" Sam cursed, filled with rage. "Why would you betray scientists to the Roaches? Why would you tell them where to drop bombs, killing innocent people? Why would you betray your kind to those killers?!?"
Michaelson sneered at him. "Quite simply, my boy, you are inferior and not worthy of this land. Besides, you have no proof."
Forcing the former confusing statement aside, he latched onto the latter. "Oh, I think that smashed radio in the corner is all I need."
A sudden voice barked, "SAM! RIGHT!"
From long-developed reflexes, he instantly sprang to the right. A slug hitted the crate he had been leaning against. A second slug sliced through his leg as he rolled under a table.
On the other side of the room, BT winced as he saw the slim form hit. Still in shock that the person of his dreams was not only here but under attack, BT didn't resist when Jim shoved him behind a crate.
Janson's voice rang out sharply from the left, "Security! Drop your weapon and raise your hands!"
Griffin turned, and glared at him. "I just shot a traitor. Maxwell was trying to contact the Roaches with the radio my boss just smashed against the wall there."
"I don't think so," Ellison returned sternly, aiming his gun at Michaelson. He could see the young man under the table, red blood streaming from the wound in his leg. "The kid is human. You and your boss are not, Roach."
Griffin raised his gun to fire on Ellison. Instantly, Janson fired on the 'accountant'. He fell backwards, flourescent orange blood spurting out the holes in his chest. Michaelson started to draw a knife from his jacket when Ellison shot him twice. A second pool of orange flowed out onto the floor.
