Here's a teaser for my Paul Foster story (temp title 'Guinea Pig'), giving an indication of where one of the main threads is going: *** The lilac car and the bronze found parking spaces near the studio entrance. Their engines wound down into silence. Foster emerged, and collected his overnight case from the rear seat. He closed and locked the vehicle, and turned to Straker. "Ready, sir." "Good. Let's not keep Jackson waiting." Straker led the way at a brisk pace. The pair entered the outer office, and greeted Miss Ealand. She pressed the 'admit' button, and the door to the inner office opened. "You may go in, gentlemen," she said. "Thank you, Miss Ealand. Come on, Paul." They entered the transit room, the office that served as the main lift down to this subterranean network. Straker opened the lid on the 'cigarette box' that connected to the voiceprint recognition net, and gave his name. Foster spoke to the device also. The voiceprint confirmed both their identities, and the room began to descend. "Doctor Jackson tells me the two of you are making satisfactory progress, Paul." Foster grimaced. The sessions with the psychiatrist had been instigated at Straker's insistence to find ways of preventing the aliens from imposing their compulsions on the Colonel. Foster had given the scheme his whole-hearted support, and not just because he preferred it to the alternative. He found the knowledge that insubstantial alien fingers were reaching into his mind, his soul, truly horrifying. "Apparently so, sir. I can't say I'm enjoying it, though. The - well, 'exercises' he gives me - are a bit strange, sometimes." "Not surprising," Straker agreed. The transit room grounded. The door opened, and Straker motioned for Foster to lead the way. Jackson was waiting for them. "Please sit, gentlemen," he said. "Now, I have brought this session forward, in view of the new lunar project. Commander, you have said that both the Moonbase expansion project, and ILFC presence on the moon and its own construction activity, is certain to attract alien attention." "That's right." "You think they'll have a go at me," Foster said, grimly. "It's to be expected, I'm afraid," Straker admitted. "Well, we have to consider what we do about it. I'm sure Jackson here can help you a lot, but Henderson would insist that we take you off the project, of course." "Too right… But there's another approach we could take. I warn you, you won't like it." "Try us," Straker invited. "Well, sir… You remember the alien 'mind virus' incident? One of the better things that came out of that mess was that you suggested the aliens had given us their own encryption codes. I propose that we follow a similar course of action." Jackson's brows creased in puzzlement; but Straker's eyes narrowed in understanding, and some horror. "Do you truly understand what you are suggesting, Paul?" he said, slowly. "Yes, sir, I do. In particular, I know that you yourself would never make that suggestion - but if in a moment of insanity you did, I would break your neck. With respect, sir." Jackson had caught up. "You would have to join the queue, Colonel… Commander, do you authorise this plan of action?" "Not yet," Straker answered. "First I want something from you, doctor. A detailed description of how you would do this, with safeguards for all concerned. Before we go up to Moonbase, which may be in two days' time." "Then I had better get on with it," Jackson said. "Please come back here this afternoon, I will have something for you… and if it is satisfactory, we will resume the session. If you will excuse me, gentlemen?" ***
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