Based on "UFO" the science-fiction TV series created by
Gerry and Sylvia Anderson and Reg Hill (1969-1970)
Copyright: Pamela K. McCaughey 2000
Novel not to be reproduced without permission of the author
E-mail: mccaug@nb.sympatico.ca
Author's Home Page
Thanks to Marc Martin for permission to use photos from the ufoseries.com for artwork
Warning: no adult situations, a few cursewords.
The time is now; the mission - as always - keep this planet safe from an alien intelligence, bent on harvesting what they can of earth's natural resources and her people, for their own dying race.
General Straker has been in the vanguard of that fight for almost thirty years. His friends are now retired, transferred to command other SHADO divisions - or dead. But, his dedication has never waned.
When a mission to take up the new SHADO moon module ends in a dog fight with alien ships, Straker is forced to rescue the crew of a NASA space shuttle caught in the cross-fire, and then recruit the astronauts who've seen too much to ever go home again!
"You're not serious are you?" Alec Freeman shifted uneasily in his chair.
"I'm serious. It's time I got to enjoy a bit of the excitement. You British fly boys get all the glory!" Ed Straker grinned.
"Yes, but this is the new moon module's inaugural flight," countered Freeman.
"What better chance to log a little air time behind the controls? I haven't exactly booked much flight time since I took this job, you know." Straker leaned forward in his own seat, "Look, it's perfectly safe. It's not really a test flight. We're going to have back-up in the form of the Interceptors who'll be guiding us in, and I'm reassigning Pete Carlin to fly co-pilot with me - just for this trip. It's no big deal."
"The big deal is that SHADO's commander is going to be riding a new spacecraft, and putting himself 'out there' unnecessarily," Freeman used his coffee cup to punctuate his point. He'd given up the demon tobacco when he'd lost a lung to cancer.
"C'mon, Alec, I know what's eating you, "Straker grinned again, mischievously, "You're just a sore loser. You wanted this trip, didn't you?"
"I'm expendable, you're not," Freeman commented.
"I know where you're coming from, but just this once I'd like to take her up myself. Look, case closed. Everything's been arranged, I leave at 0:400 tomorrow morning. I'll be back in a few days, and you can keep my seat warm for me!" Straker lit up a cigar, "Guess I better enjoy this while I can - what with all those non-smoking regulations at Moon base, eh?"
Freeman got up to leave the office, "Why don't you give that filthy habit up. It's so politically incorrect nowadays."
"You former smokers are the most militant! Besides, if I gave up my last vice, what would you have to bitch me out about?" He sucked in on the cigar luxuriously, closing his eyes as if to suggest great pleasure.
"You're incorrigible!" and Freeman was gone.
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Freeman wasn't the only member of SHADO's "upper management" staff to question Straker's decision. Paul Foster and Dr. Jackson also chided their commander for wanting one last joyride. Straker's viewpoint was that he'd made numerous trips to the Moon base over the years in the old modules - the only difference was that he was going to be the pilot this time - not a passenger. His age had nothing to do with it. Straker cited his high marks and obvious skill in the module simulator as justification for his desire. He was a "hands-on" kind of commander - he kept himself informed and up to date on every new piece of hardware, device or vehicle that SHADO developed for usage in their war against the alien invasion. He tried all the simulators as they became available. Straker believed he had to maintain his own knowledge of the equipment his people were using.
The new Moon module was an improved design. SHADO, posing as a top secret British Intelligence think tank, managed to purchase some timely technology from the American and Canadian space programs a number of years earlier, adapting them substantially for their own purposes. SHADO had enjoyed for some time the technical wizardry to grab their SIDs, using a modified CanadArm, to pull them inside the new modules (much like NASA's space shuttles, but vastly tweaked!) for repairs or add-ons. Many dollars, pounds, rubles and francs were expended on the building of additional SIDs since the 1980's, and extra long-range scanning devices similar to the Hubble Space Telescope. The advent, in the year 2000, of the International Space Station, meant SHADO would have to exercise even greater caution to maintain their secrecy in space.
Special "cloaking" or anti-radar technologies, even better than that utilized for the Stealth fighter planes, had been created, to prevent non-SHADO astronauts from determining just what that "British think tank" was up to in outer space. It was a dicey business, this growth of an international space consortium, side by side with a secret military force, also of international origin. While NASA, ESA (the European Space Agency) and the space programs of other nations were busy working to conquer the "final frontier," SHADO had been utilizing advanced technologies (some captured from downed alien spacecraft in the 1940's!) to fight perhaps those same aliens whose gadgetry they sometimes took for granted. Rumours abounded for decades on both sides of the Atlantic that many modern technologies owed their development to alien scientific mastery.
SHADO had of course been in the forefront of silencing those rumours for their own protection, and whisperings of "Men in Black" actually alluded to SHADO operatives who destroyed film and video footage, wiped memories clean with special serums, and generally eradicated all evidence of other-worldly visitors. There was a full time, separate SHADO division devoted to this work, called the Omega Corporation, and they took their work VERY seriously. Straker had given them carte blanche, right from the beginning, to silence those who spoke of alien encounters, but the worldwide phenomenon of recalling "alien kidnappings" under hypnosis had taken on a life of its own. SHADO operatives investigated these cases quietly. Some were hoaxes, some were pathetic bids for attention from the public, and some were...........dealt with. Top SHADO theorists were of the educated opinion that the aliens had begun using their own medical technology to clone human organs, which meant they no longer had to kill and mutilate for their spare parts. And, their quest for human reproductive organs had an ominous menace. Were they now poised to start breeding hybrid alien-humans? And to what purpose?
Straker watched SHADO's mission take on new colorations in the last two decades; from its early shake-down days in the 1980's, when traitors and penetration of the organization seemed a constant risk, to the incredible cyberspace explosion of the 1990's that enveloped SHADO and improved its performance level 200 percent. Cell phones, VCRs, digital television, home and corporate computers, laptops - this technology had given all of SHADO's divisions unbelievable reach and power - many years before they became items of public consumption. And, the organization wasn't above a little industrial espionage when they felt some technological advance would serve their needs better than the public's.
Now, one year into the new millennium, Straker was beginning to feel the ravages of time. Unlike his alien adversaries, who rebuilt themselves with human organs and tissues, Straker was getting older naturally. Alec Freeman was about to retire; Paul Foster transferred over to co-ordinate the Omega Corporation, based in New York City. Virginia Lake got out so she could have a family and a "normal" life eight years ago. Gay Ellis and Mark Bradley were now leading the Moon base operatives' training program on a private island off South America. Even Peter Carlin, normally the commanding officer of SHADO's submarine fleet, was feeling antsy. He'd accepted Straker's offer to ride co-pilot on the new moon module, and made some humorous comment about "not being ready to be put out to pasture" yet.
With all the "old hands" retiring, or taking posts with different responsibilities, Straker had managed to groom replacements. The people might move on, but the job didn't. As long as there were still aliens intent on subverting, harming, or kidnapping humans for God knows what reason, SHADO had a mandate. But, for the present, Straker was still General Straker, and if John Glenn could take one last space ride at age 77, than by God, so could he!
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The sun was not yet up. Straker and Carlin were taken by special truck to the launch pad and strapped into their command cockpit. Countdown commenced, and all systems were given one final check. They were carrying some cargo, but nothing of vital importance, mostly gourmet foodstuffs for the Moon base crew, who were tired of reconstituted and microwaved meals. NASA was also scheduled to send up their own new space shuttle, the Enterprise, named after the famous Star Trek ship, en route to the International Space Station, orbiting above the earth's atmosphere. Equipped with their SHADO anti-radar-scanners, the NASA astronauts would never even know they'd have company in space today.
SHADO, like NASA, had started naming their spacecraft. At 0:500 exactly, the Luna One lifted off from one of Great Britain's top secret launch site, and was on her way skyward when Straker reported to SHADO Control, "Luna One is on course 278-zero-one-niner. We'll escape earth's gravitational forces in 58 seconds, and follow trajectory seven to the Moon."
Sitting in their space suits, Straker and Carlin exchanged naughty school-boy grins. They had forgotten the unbelievable rush that came with lift-off. It had been far too long for both of them. They enjoyed the incredible vista of stars and the moon looming in their viewing ports. Coming up on the right, a phalanx of Interceptors took up formation around the module, and the team leader, Sergei Romanov, radioed, "Luna One, we have you on visuals now. We'll be your personal escort to Moon base. Congratulations, on your inaugural flight - she looks gorgeous!"
Straker responded, "Nice to see you fellas - just out for a Sunday drive?"
The bonhomie was momentarily halted as sensors and scanners in every ship, including the Luna One, screamed!
"What the hell was that?" Straker demanded, but his request for information was drowned out by the rapid inter ship chatter amongst their escort.
Col. Romanov came back over the radio finally, "We've lost our cloaking capacity - and so have you! There's another space craft dead ahead - they must have seen us by now!"
Carlin leaned forward and peered out his own view port - he looked back at Straker, "My God, it's the Enterprise!"
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NASA's new flagship shuttle, the Enterprise, was moving quickly, closing the distance between the Luna One and her escort of Interceptors. Without their special visibility damper, they were naked - exposed to the real world shuttle crew. SHADO had long since dispensed with using identifiable external logos on their ships, but they weren't supposed to be there at all. As far as NASA and ESA knew, they were the only organizations with that kind of hardware. How the hell were they going to explain THIS sighting?
And, every NASA space shuttle was equipped with more than just the astronauts' eyes. They had some of the most sophisticated recording and scanning gear technology could devise, and all of it was aimed right now at the Luna One and her sister ships.
"Can we jam their radio frequencies to Houston?" Straker asked Col. Romanov, tersely.
"It's probably already too late for that - bloody hell!" Romanov's transmission was cut off.......
Straker and Carlin watched in stunned paralysis as a swarm of UFOs flickered into solid mass, firing at will! They realized, with growing terror, that they and their party were NOT the obvious target - it was the Enterprise!
The Interceptors screamed off in a flight formation to protect the Enterprise - chasing individual UFOs like WWII fighter planes. Rapid fire cannons were blasting out bolts of colored energy from both the UFOs and the Interceptors. Caught in the crossfire, trying vainly to maneuver itself, was the Enterprise. It tried to turn in a wide arc to avoid the space battle, but ended up having one of its wings blown away.
Straker and Carlin exchanged grim expressions, then Straker said, "I'll pilot her in if you'll take over weapons control!"
Carlin nodded, and powered up their weapons array, "Whenever you're ready!"
Exercising her muscle, the Luna One swooped over closer to the Enterprise, firing repeatedly at those UFOs who'd ventured too close to the NASA shuttle. They dinged one, which spiraled off on a sharp trajectory towards the earth's atmosphere, and managed to blast two more out of existence. Meanwhile, the Interceptors were disposing of the rest.
Straker could hear the Enterprise's mayday message being broadcast over several radio frequencies, "...........we're hit! Jesus, they all just came out of nowhere! Who in hell..........Houston - WE HAVE ONE HELLUVA PROBLEM!"
Carlin watched the stricken UFO as it flashed through the outer layers of earth's atmosphere, "The fleet will track that one down!" he observed, with satisfaction, hearing Col. Romanov's voice reporting the injured UFO and their "kill number" to the operatives at Moon base.
"Yeah, but we gotta do something about the Enterprise," Straker responded, noting the NASA craft's lopsided maneuvering. It was obvious she was now almost powerless, drifting in space. How much time did they have before the astronauts were without air or in danger of an explosion on board?
"There's no choice," Carlin told him, "We have to contact them - tow them in - or take them off the shuttle!"
Straker knew there was no other choice. They couldn't condemn those astronauts to a fiery reentry death in a space shuttle which could no longer power itself properly.
"Raise them on the radio, Pete! Let them know we want to effect a rescue - I'll try to park us a little closer to them," Straker laid into the throttle gently.
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After the initial shock, the NASA astronauts were indeed grateful for a rescue. The Enterprise was too badly damaged to be towed anywhere. Their commander, astronaut Tina Kovac, was guarded at first, barraging Carlin with questions. Finally, Carlin convinced her to have her people suit up, and space walk the short distance to the Luna One, where they could enter the SHADO module through the airlock.
In the interests of getting them off the Enterprise with as little fuss or fear as possible, Carlin lied to Commander Kovac. He told her they would all be returning to earth immediately, and everything would be sorted out back home, but he knew that was not possible. In truth, the Luna One would finish her trip to the Moon base, and the NASA astronauts would be given the special amnesia serum to erase all memory of their space encounter, or dealt with in some other manner.
Explaining the loss of the Enterprise to a shocked world below would be the kicker. When the Enterprise reentered the atmosphere, she would be destroyed, and the astronauts would be considered dead.
Once the astronauts were safely on board the Luna One, Straker had Carlin deliver a couple of shots to send the NASA flagship careening on her way into the earth's atmosphere, to burn up and become so much dust and unrecognizable space debris.
Commander Kovac leapt forward in her seat, at least as fast as zero-g would permit, and grabbed Carlin's arm, "Christ! What are you doing! That's our ship out there! Are you crazy?"
Straker laid an arm on her space suit to restrain her, "Commander, it's better this way." His voice was ominously calm as he looked from his pilot's seat up at her, "Please, we do know what we're doing."
Kovac looked back at her own crew. They, too, were shocked, and some were still trying to digest the events of that morning, judging by their expressions. She flopped back into her own seat and turned down her sun visor so the others wouldn't see her angry, impotent tears.
The Luna One, having mercifully dispatched the Enterprise, banked and headed for the moon, followed by its escort of Interceptors.
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Straker radioed ahead that they were going to have "guests". In SHADO parlance, that meant the base commander was expected to have discreetly armed guards and a couple of doctors on hand so their "guests" could be dealt with efficiently. Secrecy was still of the essence. The NASA astronauts had to be kept as "protected' as possible. Besides, Straker also had to make some difficult decisions.
As far as the rest of the planet was concerned, NASA would have already tracked the injured Enterprise down into the atmosphere and would be forced to announce its destruction with all hands on board. Already CNN was calling the "Enterprise Incident" another Challenger. SHADO made it a point to carefully monitor all electronic media broadcasts. The networks were portraying Commander Kovac and her crew as "heroic" and having given their lives in the commission of their duty in space, etc. That sort of rhetoric always brought a grim smile to Straker's face - how many SHADO personnel had given their lives to protect earth, and CNN would never announce them as being heroes!
For the time being, the doctors took the NASA people to their infirmary. It was a newer area of the Moon base which could be well isolated from the rest of the installation. On the pretext of giving them all standard medical checks, the doctors managed to keep the astronauts confined to the infirmary for some time.
Straker, Peter Carlin and the base commander, Col. Boyd sat down to discuss the situation at hand.
"How the hell did we lose our cloaking capability out there?" Straker demanded.
"The best educated guess our techs have come up with is that the aliens' cloaking frequencies jammed ours. They're still working on it. Lab tests show our systems are back on-line now," Col. Boyd explained, as she poured herself a cup of coffee.
"Do we have the text of everything those NASA astronauts reported to Houston?" Peter Carlin asked.
Col. Boyd added some sugar to her cup, "Yeah, but it's not encouraging. They managed to describe our ships, the aliens, and the battle."
"What can we do for damage control?"
"The rest of the world thinks they're dead. We can't wipe their memories and then set them down somewhere. That would just keep the controversy going," Col. Boyd commented.
"You've been monitoring NASA's communications system - what are they saying internally about this?" Straker demanded. He had been many hours without a cigarette and was beginning to feel more than slightly irritated.
"To be frank, they're scared shitless. And, it's clear they don't want it to become public knowledge that some Star Wars-type space battle KO-ed their flagship space craft and killed their top crew. I think we can safely depend on NASA to keep their figurative mouths shut. At least in public. But, there are those who know, at the highest level, that something vastly unexplained took place this morning."
Peter Carlin sipped his own coffee thoughtfully, "These people are highly trained astronauts. They can't go home now. What can we do for them?"
"We?" Straker asked, "They're a goddamn security risk!"
"This wouldn't be the first time we turned someone over to our side. Look what happened in the 80's when we brought in Paul Foster," Carlin mused.
"I know what you're saying, Pete, but we've never had so many at one time before. It's easy to turn one man or one woman, but seven freaked out astronauts?" Straker asserted.
"I don't think we have a choice. What's the point of us rescuing them just to dispose of them here? I don't think SHADO has to resort to murder all the time." It was clear Carlin was opposed to drastic action.
Col. Boyd spoke up again, "It's worth a try, General. If we deal with them all fairly and honestly, explain the impossibility of their 'coming back from the dead' and offer them a reasonable alternative, as SHADO operatives, maybe they'll be more agreeable than we think."
Straker sighed. He was outnumbered. And, badly in need of a cigarette. Like Carlin, he deplored having to resort to murder to maintain security. It had happened before, and his conscience was still smoldering over it. He had never liked ordering "a hit" on someone just because they knew too much and couldn't be trusted to keep quiet. SHADO shouldn't have to function like some space-age Mafia.
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"Well, I just read all their files. They're an elite group. They might prove useful to SHADO. The commander's a Canadian. Kinda odd. I thought NASA was pretty protective of their own." Straker motioned to Pete Carlin to sit down.
"Canadians have been going up on NASA shuttles since the days of Marc Garneau and Roberta Bondar. But, I do believe this is the first time a Canadian has ever led a mission," Carlin commented, "What about the others?"
"One Brit, the rest are Americans. Their mission involved some scientific experiments and a payload of materials for the International Space Station. Not a cheap loss, that one."
"Where people are concerned, it never is", Carlin watched Straker fidget nervously with his pen, "So, what are you going to do?"
"Jesus, Pete," Straker cursed quietly, "I don't want to condemn these people. But, what if any of them say no to us? How do we handle that? NASA considers them dead heroes."
"We don't have to follow standard operating procedures all the time. We can make exceptions," Carlin's unspoken words were obvious to Straker - YOU can make exceptions - you have the power of life and death over these people.
"How do we tell them they'll never see their families again? That the world believes they're dead? And, that their only choice now is to work for us - or......what?" Straker had always passed this task off in recent years to Alec Freeman, or Paul Foster or Virginia Lake.
Pete Carlin leaned across the table, "I don't think they have much choice in the matter. They're smart people. I think they'll see the options open to them and embrace them, once they're given the truth."
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Over 24 hours without much rest or a single cigarette had not prepared Straker well for this encounter. He was tired, bitchy, and going into nicotine withdrawal. Col. Boyd had managed to find some stale anti-nicotine chewing gum for Straker, but it was virtually tasteless and was doing nothing to improve Straker's mood. He stepped out of the sonic shower and popped another piece of gum in his mouth - it wasn't even good enough to make bubbles with!
After shaving and getting dressed, Straker felt he at least looked the part of SHADO's commander, even if he didn't feel the part. Exhaustion had drawn deep circles under his expressive blue eyes. He knew the Enterprise's skipper had been demanding a meeting with "whoever was in charge of this installation" for several hours. It was no longer possible to put her off. All the astronauts had been put through as many tests as the doctors could perform on them, and it was clear anything else would be viewed as stall tactics by NASA's best. Aside from their mental states, they were in good health physically.
Straker walked down the corridor to Briefing Room One. He seated himself at the desk and buzzed for Commander Kovac to be brought in.
Stripped of her bulky space suit, Commander Kovac was something of a surprise. She was short, solidly built, and red-haired. What had he expected? NASA chose their astronauts for their intellectual capacities, not their physical appearances.
She came in and looked down at Straker, "Are you in charge here?" she asked. For a woman so short in stature, she had a deep, resonant voice.
"My name is General Edward Straker. I'm the person you've been wanting to talk to."
Kovac nodded and sat down, but there was a caged tigress aura about her, "I remember you - you were the pilot who picked us up........you ordered the Enterprise destroyed!" Her voice was stone cold.
"Commander, I think once you permit me to explain everything to you, you'll forgive me for the decision I had to take. I do know what it's like to pour your heart and soul into something." Straker was oddly composed, regarding her with those big blue tired eyes.
"Who are you - really?" Kovac was clearly tired of being given the run-around, "What the hell happened out there?"
"From what we've been able to ascertain, your ship was the target of an alien intelligence." Straker paused to let what he said about aliens sink in, "We tried to protect you, but it didn't go well. Your ship's loss is...... regrettable. I'm just glad we were able to take you and your crew off to safety." Time to remind her to be grateful.
"Okay, so you saved our asses. What's with the Star Wars scenario? You don't look like Luke Skywalker to me!" Was she playing the tough cookie on purpose?
"Not even close," Straker smiled, despite himself and the seriousness of the situation, "But, here's what I will tell you........"
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Tina Kovac lay back on her bunk, still stunned. She had spent the last three hours in conversation with a man who told her aliens from another solar system had been raiding planet earth for the last 30 years or more, kidnapping humans, using them for spare parts, and generally causing havoc. And, an organization named SHADO had stemmed the tide and kept the aliens from a full scale take-over. Scenes from a dozen science-fiction movies flooded her mind - like Star Trek: First Contact, with the Borg going back in time to prevent the Federation from becoming a reality; Sigourney Weaver battling those nightmarish aliens in the movie series of the same name; Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith blasting insectoids in "Men In Black"; audio recordings of Orson Welles's "War of the Worlds." It was the love of science and science-fiction that had gotten her into the Canadian Space program, and finally into NASA. And, now where was she? Dead.
Dead to her family. Dead to NASA. Dead to the world. General Straker had even played for her video footage of President Bush's announcement of the Enterprise and her valiant crew's loss. They were being compared to the Challenger crew, the Apollo One astronauts. Lost in the line of duty. The Canadian flag on Parliament Hill was lowered half-staff, as were the Union Jack in London, and the Stars and Stripes in Washington, to commemorate the Enterprise's lost crew. It was surreal. Too weird for words. There were even plans being laid for some sort of three-country memorial service.......and she would never see her family again. She thought of her husband, an architect, and her two kids - what would it be like for them? They would have to start a new life too - one without her. She could never see them again, could never go home, could never enjoy all those things that had made her life worth living up to this point.
Now that she was conveniently dead, Straker had offered her another job. In fact, her entire crew was being offered new jobs. She looked over at the laptop computer Straker sent her back to her quarters with. He said it was loaded with vital information about SHADO, its history and the alien menace which had been SHADO's raison d'etre for the last 20 years or so. Were the science-fiction authors right after all?
She couldn't sleep anyway. It was time to consider contingencies. Kovac sat up and flipped open the laptop.
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Carlin reported to Straker that the NASA people had agreed as a body to take up their new lives with SHADO. All except one. Commander Kovac insisted on speaking again with Straker personally.
"Before I sign on the dotted line, what guarantees do I have that I won't be eliminated?"
"What makes you think we'd eliminate you? We've just offered you all new jobs and new identities," Straker countered.
"Don't play that game with me. I'm not stupid. We know too much. We SAW too much! We're a major security hazard. How can an organization like yours ever completely trust us not to go AWOL?"
"We can't. We're taking a calculated risk. Standard operating procedure, if we'd followed it to the letter, would have meant you'd be REAL dead heroes. We could have left you on the Enterprise to die."
Kovac was silent for a moment, then she said, "So can we ever really trust each other?"
Straker inclined his head slightly and then he fixed her with a cold blue eyed stare, "I guess that's up to you and your people, isn't it?"
She knew what he meant. The veiled threat was implied. "Do as we want, work for us, and you'll have a whole new life. Step out of line, just once, and it's game over."
"What happens next?" she asked, dropping into the chair across from Straker.
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"I know what you're going to say, so don't bother! I've had enough "I told you sos" already this morning!" Straker cut Alec Freeman off in mid-sentance, as he dropped into his seat.
"General Henderson must be twirling in his grave by now," Alec replied.
"Not unless he's burning in hell," Straker smiled grimly, "Look - shit happens. I just happened to be the one to catch it this time."
"You're one damn lucky bugger!"
"It was gonna happen even if I hadn't been behind the throttle, Alec. I'm actually glad I was in the middle of it. I saw it all first hand," he grinned suddenly like a schoolboy, "Besides, I got to play Luke Skywalker, too!"
"Who the hell is Luke Skywalker?"
"Long story, that one. I kinda liked the testosterone rush that came with saving someone's ass up there."
Alec shook his head, "You think NASA's going to make public any of what the astronauts reported?"
"Nope. I can bet the NASA spin doctors are already at work, playing the whole thing like an American tragedy. Their government has been one of our biggest allies, albeit unwittingly, for covering up stories of alien involvement. I talked to Paul right after it happened. The Omega Corporation's been on it from the first."
"So, you're not worried about those astronauts?"
"I can't waste my time worrying about what hasn't happened yet. I talked to the psychiatrists on their reorientation program. Their assessment is fairly positive. The only one they're even remotely concerned about is Kovac. She's a real bitch."
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SHADO's reorientation program was several months in length. It was usually carried out at Moon base, simply to put a certain amount of real distance between the new people and the families and friends they had to learn to live without on earth. If they were allowed to stay earth-bound, they might be more tempted to "phone home," like E.T.
The astronauts thought they were prepared to undergo new training, similar to that they had already experienced at NASA. What they discovered was something completely different. Physical fitness was vital. So as a result, weight training, weight loss, self-defence education and other aspects of physical well-being were front and centre.
Weapons training was also important, and something new. Only one of the astronauts had ever even fired a handgun, so it was stretch for the others. Their level of ability to handle different types of weapons would determine which division of SHADO they would eventually be assigned to. One of the astronauts had done a stint in the British Navy, so he was naturally interested in joining SHADO's underwater fleet of Skydivers. The youngest member of the crew, a former U.S. air force pilot, expressed an interest in possibly joining the Interceptor crew. The others had no idea where they could possibly fit into a military organization.
As their former commander, the astronauts looked to Kovac as their spokesperson, a liaison of sorts with SHADO. If there were any complaints, concerns, whatever, she was their advocate. If they'd all made the grade at NASA, they sure as hell couldn't afford to "wash out" with SHADO! There was a lot more at stake than getting a mission on a space shuttle now.
By the end of the program, the coordinator had made some decisions. He opted to keep the American fly boy for the Interceptor training program. The British seaman would be sent back to earth to enter the Skydiver fleet. The Enterprise's former payload specialist was going to be retained on Moon base to work with SHADO's own shuttle program. That left four astronauts, including Tina Kovac, to be reassigned.
They were all to be reassessed before being sent earth-ward. The temptations of contacting their families, once they returned to the planet, would be hard to overcome. Of course, the security risks involved were just too huge. If the SHADO shrinks found reasons to doubt any of the astronauts, they'd have to remain at Moon base for further indoctrination. However, SHADO's reorientation experts seemed very pleased with the progress their new proteges were making. To further assist them in avoiding temptation, it was recommended they reassign the remaining four NASA people to international SHADO stations.
Straker personally read each astronaut's file, and kept abreast of their progress. He had a great deal at stake for being so generous. He privately cursed Pete Carlin for pressing him to back off from "eliminating" the lot of them, but he also knew Carlin was right. It would have been an incredible waste. His conscience was riddled with many regrets, but he likened himself to Winston Churchill, Britain's WWII Prime Minister. Winnie had let the East End take it in the face from the Luftwaffe, just so MI5 could protect their German intelligence sources. Straker believed in the principle of the "good of the many before the good of the few." Ruthless? Oh yes. Choices? Nope.
Some of the astronauts left behind families. Obviously, that would be one of the most difficult issues to face. Learning the enormity of the alien threat to earth's security was another. The NASA people had no idea. Even though they all admitted to believing in other life forms, accepting that earth was not only being visited, but under various forms of attack did shock them. But, they were responding well to their training, and their new lives. It would be a matter of time to see if they would also recover from the emotional trauma.
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Kovac didn't know it yet, but the main reason she'd been assigned to Great Britain was so the SHADO brass could keep a closer eye on her. Straker, in particular, perceived her as a rogue element, a loose cannon. She was smart and quick, but constantly bucking authority. He wondered how she managed to get command of a space shuttle with her attitude. If she stepped out of line, just once, he'd pull the trigger himself.
Straker had her report directly to his office for reassignment.
"Sit down," Straker gestured her to a seat in front of his desk. She was wearing street clothes, not a uniform, but he could still sense her impatience, her restlessness.
"The big man himself!" mused Kovac aloud, "I must have stirred up a lot of shit this time."
"Not at all," he kept his voice modulated, "Just a little talk about your new responsibilities," he went to light up a cigarette, "Mind if I smoke?"
"Actually, yes. It's a filthy habit," she was obviously not bothering to be accommodating.
Straker lit up nonetheless,"You sound like my second in command, Ms. Kovac." He emphasized the "MS." appellation, and then puffed for a few minutes, enjoying her discomfiture.
After a minute of contented inhaling on his part, Straker fixed her with a basilisk stare, "I don't like having to repeat myself, MS. Kovac. I told you once that co-operation was the best policy. I understand from your trainers and assessors that you're adapting very well - but that you have a problem with authority."
Kovac shrugged, "I have my own ideas on how some things should be done."
"Mmmmm. Well, around here, we tell you how things should be done. We've been in this business a long time. I'm not going to bull shit you - we don't need any Xenas or Princess Leias in this organization. You follow orders. How the hell did you ever get command of a space shuttle with your attitude?"
"It's called command ability to make decisions and assess risks. You should be familiar with that."
"You're being assigned today to simulations development, until further notice. You've flown in space, you may be able to help that division with its software," Straker watched her for some reaction. Nothing.
"Will I be able to at least communicate with the other astronauts?"
"Not for some time. They've all been assigned to jobs in different parts of the world. Your main task now is to buckle down and make yourself useful."
Kovac got up from her seat, "It's been a slice, General. See ya," she was a little surprised to see a SHADO operative waiting for her at the door, "Babysitter?" she indicated the operative.
Straker blew a perfect circle of smoke at her, "That's up to you."
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The "Enterprise Incident" finally lost its press punch. It had been milked for every possible emotion, headline and sound byte. Except for rumors that some film company was planning to make a made-for-TV-movie of the event, the world went on with its daily life, and the "dead" NASA astronauts were relegated to CNN's archives.
Straker ordered the astronauts to undergo psychological testing every 6 weeks. It was imperative that they readjust to their new lives and jobs, and make peace with their pasts. Also, they had been ordered to participate in critical incident stress debriefings to work through the trauma of being attacked and almost marooned in space by the aliens.
He'd pulled out all the stops to bring the NASA people into SHADO - Straker had a lot riding on this gamble. And, in general, he wasn't the gambling type. So the seven NASA people continued to be his pet project for a many months.
Meanwhile, Straker tasked the cloaking systems development team with making certain they didn't have a reprise of their earlier problems. And, determining how the alien cloaking devices worked. The aliens had been strangely absent since then. Straker had his theorists at work trying to decide if the aliens really had been out to destroy the Enterprise, or if the attack was meant to unmask SHADO to the earth's population.
"I don't get it, Alec. Four months and those alien bastards haven't even so much as sent a scout ship our way," Straker blew smoke rings.
"Don't bet on it. With that new cloaking technology of theirs, they're likely here right now, evading our sensors and scanners."
"The techs are working on that, actually. They're developing some gadgetry to detect the alien signatures. Our Interceptors recorded the readings when they materialized in space. Of course, it's not 100 percent yet. And, we still don't know who or what the alien objective was that day."
"Any problems with NASA?"
"Nope. Paul's people mopped that one up well. A little memory serum here, a little visit from the Men in Black there......."
"How are your pets doing?"
Straker chuckled uncharacteristically, "They're fine so far. But, they're on short leashes."
"Adapting?"
"As well as can be expected. Doug Jackson says the worst case scenario is still Kovac. She was married with kids. Women have a harder time with that sort of thing. I've got her working with the sim people in Scotland."
"Well isolated, eh?"
"Let's just say it's a VERY secure installation."
"The others?"
"Five men, one other woman."
The conversation turned to other topics. In addition to the aliens' seeming quiescence, Straker was concerned with the final autopsy reports from the last captured alien. It provided irrefutable proof that the aliens had started cloning human organs. The dead alien body contained three lungs and two livers. All were distinctly made of human tissue, and all were genetic matches for each other.
"Why the additional organs, Alec? They were just squeezed in there like so many sardines! The lab thinks the aliens may be trying to bring about an evolutionary change in their own physiology."
"They're not exactly equipped to live on our planet without special considerations. They need their suits."
"But, what if they could learn to breathe without the liquid? And, eat and digest human food just as we do?"
"So what are you saying here?"
"I think the aliens want to walk among us undetected, and the best way to do that is to be LIKE us, in every way possible. It's one helluva fifth column."
Alec shook his head, "We can't base our theories on only one body."
"Exactly. That's why we have to get more bodies."
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Kovac finished going over the last simulation. The Scottish Highlands were beautiful, if remote. Her work was challenging. But, her family was across the Atlantic Ocean, thinking she was dead. When she could get permission, Kovac often walked down to the shore and looked seaward. It was too cold in April to go swimming. Spring would come to her beautiful Island and she would never see it again. The pain in her heart would not, could not, go away. And, she'd long since cried out all her tears. She thought of her children, her husband, her home on the water, the peaceful people she grew up with. They'd all been so proud that one of their own had made it so far in the world; was going to become famous. Now she was not only famous, but famous and "dead."
Would she ever be able to dedicate herself so thoroughly to the cause of earth's defense as the others she'd met working for SHADO? Did they too have pasts they dared not speak of? She knew what she was doing was very important, in its own way, to the defense of her planet. In fact, that was the only consideration keeping her from running AWOL. That and the possibility that Straker would have her, and perhaps even her family, hunted down and eliminated in the interests of global security.
She also found it hard to adapt to what she considered being a "drone." Kovac likened SHADO, in her mind, to a hive mentality. A little like the Borg on the Star Trek TV series. The chain of command was far more rigid than she could understand. She was a scientist, not a military person. Logic, deductive reasoning and cold facts were the tools of her trade. Adding military discipline to that mix was difficult for her. Even at NASA, the "food chain" wasn't quite so tight. NASA encouraged its people to think "out of the box," to utilize original thinking to solve crises - witness the thinking that brought the Apollo 13 crew home safely in the early 1970's!
She felt like a small child, constantly under the paternalistic eye of "Big Brother." In fact, she was certain her quarters were "bugged" and that she was being more closely observed than the others at the sim installation. Kovac was working hard to quell her personal paranoia and accept SHADO's methods as commonplace. But, the restlessness was unhinging her. She worried every day how her poor family was adapting to her "loss." She thought about her kids. She thought about her husband, her parents. Her time off-shift was often spent watching inane British sit-coms on TV or listening to music, simply as ploys to occupy her mind and prevent her from obsessing over her family. The SHADO shrinks knew what she was doing, and she knew they knew. It was a continual battle to keep one step ahead of the shrinks. If they considered her a threat, what would they do with her?
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Luna One, piloted by regular SHADO people, had been making biweekly flights to Moon base for some time. In addition to supplies, it brought posted mail (the families of SHADO personnel had no idea their letters were being rerouted to the Moon - they thought their loved ones were on extended business trips to Australia or southeast Asia - scouting locations on that continent for the Harlington-Straker film studio!), software upgrades, and vital technology. An experimental prototype software and probes to detect the aliens' cloaking devices had been installed several weeks earlier, and the Moon base staff were all in various stages of training with it.
Col. Boyd was giving Straker a progress report, "Everyone is pretty much up to speed with the Alien-Tect. It's in full operational mode and we've been running sims with it constantly."
"So why aren't we picking up any aliens?" Straker demanded, his face visibly stern on the video screen.
"Either the prototype isn't doing its job, or it's a dud - period."
"That's not a very encouraging report."
"I can't pull rabbits out of my hat, sir. We're doing our best, and I really can't be any more positive than that. The sims show the software and probes are on-line and working. Beyond that - I honestly don't know."
"And, the Interceptors?"
"We've got one of them posing as a UFO, while the others run sims to detect it cloaked. The sims are run several times a day. There are some pretty frazzled nerves up here."
"Some here too, Colonel Boyd, believe me!"
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The simulations division in Scotland continued to fine-tune the Alien-Tect. They took the Moonbase's sim reports and ran them over and over again. Recalibrations didn't seem to change the lack of detection. It seemed unbelievable that the aliens wouldn't take advantage of the situation. Straker, and many other SHADO people, were mainly concerned with the possibility that the aliens would utilize the time remaining until the Alien-Tect was fully operational, to set up secret bases or conduct more of their own ruthless brand of experimentation.
SHADO, and the Omega Corporation, gathered every little snippet of information from around the world on possible UFO sightings. Because of the aliens' cloaking technology, SHADO was at a distinct disadvantage in the war. They could deal with UFOs only if they could track them.
Three more months went by. Straker's chain smoking was getting worse. Alec Freeman suggested Straker try the "patch", as he had, after his bout with cancer, "It'll ease the nicotine cravings until you can swear off for good."
"I won't get cancer, Alec. No cancer in my family, anyway."
Alec just rolled his eyes. Why did he bother?
"Have you had time to read those Canadian reports from the Omega Corporation?"
"Paul e-mailed them to me yesterday. I just glanced at them. Why?"
"There's something weird happening over there."
"The usual kind of weird?"
"Nope, a new kind of weird. People missing, strange lights - sounds like the same shit, different day, but it's not," Alec could always tell Straker's mood was unsettled when he used his favourite swear word, "The Omega people have been investigating a small rural village. The kicker is that after the initial report, the locals are saying NOTHING happened there at all! In fact, they're very insistent about it. Paul says his people aren't taking anything at face value. They're more used to people telling their stories to anyone who'll listen."
"What's so weird about that? Maybe nothing happened, like they say."
"The locals are farmers and fishermen. You'd think they'd be up and out every morning at their work. Look, Paul's report says they're not going anywhere - just staying in their homes and sitting in front of their TV sets - all day - every day. And, they seem to have some difficulty speaking. Their English is garbled."
Alec sat forward in his seat and grinned, "Well, Canadians DO have their own way of speaking the Queen's English!"
"Not funny. Paul sent in a Canadian team to investigate! No, there's more to this whole situation than meets the eye. I want it given a high priority until it's resolved. I've been shitting my pants every day with the prospect that the aliens have managed to use their time while we're blind to them to set up a base somewhere. And, what would be a better spot than some hole-in-the-wall rural village in Canada - it's the perfect place to work unseen and undisturbed! We've got to isolate this problem and get a SHADO clean-up crew in there somehow."
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After three months of working at the sim installation in Scotland, Kovac was being granted a reprieve - of sorts. She was told she would be reassigned to SHADO Central, where she'd become a science advisor to Harlington-Straker's sci-fi/horror film unit, under an assumed name, of course. The long-standing joke around SHADO was the film company's lengthy series of filmatic flops. Harlington-Straker hadn't produced a moneymaker at the box office for decades. Most of its television work consisted of documentaries, children's entertainment and public affairs programs. They had won a few prestigious TV awards in Great Britain, but in general, the studio maintained a very low profile.
Kovac's real work at SHADO Central was, for once, a little closer to her original training. Finally, her expertise as a biologist-gerontologist was going to be put to usage. Her mission with NASA had been to effect experiments on the other astronauts. They'd all ranged in age from their early thirties, into their fifties, and after John Glenn's historic "coming out of retirement" flight, understanding human aging in space, and the body's deterioration during long-time space assignments had shifted into higher gear. Like those Russian astronauts who'd remained on the Mir station for many months, and the advent of the International Space Station, humans would be spending even more time in zero-gravity. The effects of it would have to be studied in-depth.
What NASA didn't know, was that SHADO had not only conducted the same kind of testing two decades ago, but was dealing with an even more critical gerontological problem - aliens who aged and died as soon as their special suits and equipment were removed. Kovac was being reassigned to the exobiology division to work with the scientists there in analyzing alien bodies, alien and human tissue samples, and building reports.
Straker, ever mindful of how his "pets" were progressing, invited Kovac to his office after she'd had some time to "settle in" to her new assignment. He was perennially curious about her "tough" act. According to the shrinks' reports, she used it with everyone, not just himself.
"So," he started, blowing a smoke ring at her, "How do you like it here, closer to civilization?"
"I miss the sheep. They're about the only friends I was allowed in Scotland," Kovac replied.
The General noted her slimmer figure, her longer hair, "Is the work here more interesting?"
"It keeps me off the streets at night," she was being as noncommittal as possible.
"I understand you're a gerontologist."
Kovac stood up abruptly, "Look, let's not bother with the small talk! You probably want to know when I'm going to go off the deep end, right? The shrinks been keeping you up to date on the crazy Canuck? EH?" her hands had balled themselves into fists, "Okay - here it is - straight from the horse's mouth to the horse's arse - I'm surviving! My kids will never see me again - they don't know I'm not really dead - but I'm surviving! I have NO life, but I'm surviving! I might as well BE dead, for all the difference it makes!"
"You done?" Straker asked sardonically, tapping the ashes off his cigarillo.
"What else do you want me to say? Oh, thank you, great God Straker, for saving my ass in space only to condemn me to a living death, squirreled away in some god-forsaken laboratory, dissecting dead alien bodies!!"
"I see we haven't dealt with that attitude problem yet."
"I don't give a shit anymore, if that's what you mean."
Straker waved around him with his ciggie hand, a cloud of smoke trailing about, "You don't get the enormity of what we're trying to do here, MS. Kovac?"
She took a deep breath and paused momentarily before she answered, "I accept what you're doing here. I know it's imperative - it's vital - it's the only thing standing between those goddam aliens and life on our planet as we know it," her eyes welled up, and it was obvious from the expression on her face that she was struggling to control herself, "But, General Straker, I am NOT some female version of Captain James T. Kirk! I can't just forget I had a life, and a family and a profession - and push them all aside to make the world safe for democracy. Working for SHADO? I'm just going through the motions. I can't........ reincarnate myself this way. I'm a security risk. And, I know what you people do with security risks."
"Do you think you're the only person we've ever recruited? You think you're the only person who gave up their lives and took on new lives working for SHADO?"
"But, those people did it freely - they didn't do it because the alternative was being eliminated."
"You like to talk tough, don't you? Well, I'm going to give it to you straight," Straker got up from his seat, stubbed out his ciggie, and faced her, hands on his hips, "I've given you a VERY long leash. I've had the shrinks evaluate you constantly, give you anti-depressants, work your ass off. SHADO didn't wash you out - YOU'RE washing yourself out! You think you're the only one to ever have kids? To lose them? Get your shit together, woman! You're not a special case. Christ, I should have just left you on the Enterprise!"
Before she could stop herself, Kovac struck out blindly. The palm of her hand snapped smartly off Straker's cheek, leaving an ugly red mark. He'd seen it coming, and he hadn't even stopped her - she knew that! And, she felt ashamed of her momentary lapse in control.
"C'mon," he taunted her, with that damn sardonic smile of his, "Didn't that make you feel good? Y'wanna do it again?"
"What do you want from me?"
"Your soul, Kovac. Your soul! I lost mine years ago to this organization. I don't want to be alone."
"You're crazy!" Kovac actually backed away from him.
"No crazier than you. I lost my wife, my kid, my life - to SHADO. Do you think I spend my time going to movie premieres and studio parties? That's all a front. I don't manage Harlington-Straker any more than you do. You think you're lonely? Got nobody to lean on? Nobody to go home to every night? Join the goddam club, baby!"
The lump in her throat became unbearable. She felt the hot gush of tears as they slid down her face. It came as a surprise to her when Straker took her in his arms and cradled her, the way she used to cradle her children when they cried. She had not imagined he could in any way be tender. They sank to the floor, and Straker rocked her, while she sobbed and sobbed. For her kids. For her husband. For her life. Most of all, for herself.
After what seemed a very long time, Kovac looked up at Straker. He was regarding her with those big expressive blue eyes.
"I don't know what to say," she murmured.
"Now, that's a first," Straker chided her quietly. He helped her up, and placed her in the chair across from his desk.
"I guess I haven't been firing on all thrusters."
"Everyone adapts in their own time, Tina," it was the first time Straker ever used her first name.
"Jesus, I must be suffering from the Stockholm Syndrome," Kovac was referring to the established psychiatric terminology for individuals who end up siding with their kidnappers.
Straker smiled fleetingly, "Look, I know you've had a harder time than the others. They didn't have to give up as much as you did."
"I feel like such a dip shit."
"It's okay - we all have our dip shit moments. The secret is: we go on. We pick ourselves up and simply........go on. I'm not asking you to do anything I haven't had to do myself. It's just that I'm at a distance of about 25 years or so away from my heartbreak. You never forget, Tina - you just go on."
His voice was soothing, soft - so unlike the hard nosed General Straker she was used to. He handed her a wad of tissues, "You can do this, Tina. I'm an old man now, but you've got the rest of your life ahead of you. You have to make peace with yourself."
"I keep thinking there must have been something else I could have done to prevent all this."
"Was the Enterprise equipped with missiles or cannons? Were you expecting a space battle? No commander can be ready for every crisis - it was all out of your hands long before the Enterprise lifted off. You have to know that. It doesn't mean you were a bad commander. Even Napoleon didn't expect to lose at Waterloo. Your ship was fatally damaged - you had no other choice, as a commander, but to get your people to safety. Only the Captain of the Titanic had a good reason for going down with his ship. "
There was a sadness, and a wisdom in Straker's eyes. For a moment, Kovac thought she could see a small blonde-haired boy mirrored in them.
"Maybe some R&R is what you need. Let me take you somewhere to dinner and we'll hash it out."
"I....feel like they're dead, General......and I know it's me they THINK is dead. It's like I want to mourn for them, but they're not dead. They're alive out there."
Straker picked up his cell phone, "You like curry? I know this great place not far from here. I'll make us some reservations."
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The headwaiter, in his turban, obviously knew Straker and guided them quietly to their table in the back of the restaurant. Without even looking at a menu, Straker told their server what they wanted to order - in Hindi.
"Want a drink?" Straker asked before the server left them.
"I don't suppose you have any Canadian beer?" Kovac asked tentatively.
"We do have some Canadian rye, would that do?" the server offered, and Kovac nodded.
"You're not indulging in a little booze, General?" she asked, when Straker accepted a glass of iced tea.
"Gave it up years ago. Weakens the mind," and he smiled, "What was your life like before SHADO got in your face?"
"My work was the most important thing in my life, sad to say. It took me away from home a lot. I guess I felt I'd never get ahead in my career if I didn't play the game. And, I wanted to play that game."
"How'd you get involved with NASA?"
"I signed up to be assessed for the Canadian Space Program. It took me five years to get in. I just kept reapplying. My husband thought I was crazy, at first. But, then he realized how important it was to me. When the CSP started looking for astronauts to liaise with NASA, I jumped at it," Kovac looked down and stirred her rye with a swizzle stick, "In fact, I put getting into the CSP and NASA ahead of my kids. I mean, I loved them, but I kept thinking there had to be more for me to do in life. I'll never forgive myself for that. I farmed them out to their grandparents for months while I trained, and studied, and........chased the dream of flying in space. My husband had his own architectural business and he traveled too, so the kids got put on the back burner. I missed school plays. JP's hockey games. Christa's tae kwon do exhibitions. I didn't even see my own kids learn to walk, for Chrissakes. And, now..............there's no way I can ever make it up."
Their meal arrived - steaming rice, chicken tandoori, fresh chapatis, and all the trimmings. Straker asked a large carafe of water and another rye for Kovac. They ate in silence for a time.
"What can you tell me about the aliens' aging processes?" Straker asked nonchalantly.
Kovac chewed thoughtfully, and sipped her rye, "The lab is currently running tests on their cellular regeneration. We've been trying to grow their cloned cells to find out why they degenerate so damn fast. The cells only remain alive as long as we keep them stored under protective conditions. Compared to our cellular structure, we think theirs eats up energy faster."
"So......what does that mean?" Straker helped himself to more Tandoori Chicken.
"They burn themselves out faster. I don't know if it's earth's specific mix of breathable gases, or what it is. At least that's one theory. Another is that their bodies break down faster because of the borrowed human organs - they don't have as many rejection problems as humans used to have with transplants, but they're not perfect, either."
"And this business with the multiple organs?"
"You've probably read some of our latest reports. There is one group in our lab which thinks the aliens are doubling up to eventually change their own evolutionary pattern."
"But, you don't believe that?" Straker raised an eyebrow at her.
"It just doesn't make sense. I know some of the exobiologists are grasping at straws. Evolution takes too long. I can't see the aliens starting with something like that now. No, I think they're doubling up in case one fails. Like packing an extra pair of pants on a golfing trip. Then, there's the fact that most of those doubled organs are cloned. We've known for some time that they're ahead of us in this technology."
Using his fork to punctuate his comments, Straker replied, "So what's your take on all this?"
Kovac sipped her rye again, "Cloning would solve a lot of problems for them. It might even mean that they could eventually leave us alone. I mean, if they can clone effective, non-rejectable organs, over and over again, from tissues they already have access to, why risk coming back to earth?"
"I don't think human tissue is the only reason they come here."
"What else are they after? If it's true that they are a dying race, why wouldn't they have approached us peacefully to ask for assistance from us? Then, there would have been no need for this secret war all these years."
"That's just it, Tina. They want more from us than our humanity."
"How do you know that?"
"SHADO has been monitoring everything on the planet now for decades. For instance, we know the aliens have been observing our advances in medicine, biochemistry, agriculture, atomic and nuclear power development, and even aquaculture. It's been going on longer than even most SHADO people realize."
Kovac shuddered a bit, "Makes me feel like an ant or some other insect."
"Have you ever heard the word Roswell?" Straker asked quietly.
She looked up from her plate of curry, fork raised midway to her mouth, "You mean THE Roswell? As in New Mexico?"
"The very same."
"Jesus. I knew there had to be some truth to it."
"More than you know, "Straker said sotto voce, "Let's get out of here." He threw a wad of currency down on the table, while Kovac scrambled to grab her purse. --------------------------------------------------------------------------
"The safest place to talk right now is my place. No bugs, complete security. It's not far," Straker opened the passenger car door for Kovac. His shiny new Mercedes was a distinct upgrade over his old Delorean with the gull-wing doors. Ah, the things he'd had put up with for the sake of appearances as a film studio head!
They made a fast trip to Straker's house in the country, pulling into an attached garage with a special intelligence/defense unit that reminded Kovac her boss was more than just a movie mogul.
Once inside, Straker offered Kovac a cup of something hot to drink, and she opted for Earl Grey Tea with a slice of lemon. His home was not what she expected, for the residence of a film producer. Instead of being palatial, it was spare, like the man. A simple, one floor ranch-style house with a sunken living room, and an adjoining kitchen-dining area. The furnishings were a bit dated; there was a fireplace, which looked as though it was rarely, if ever, used. Straker lit several long matches and newspaper bits before getting it to finally blaze up warmly, and lit his cigarillo off it. Kovac could tell from the lack of real decor that Straker hardly spent any time in the house at all. It was simply a place to sleep.
"Were you just bull shitting me with that mention of Roswell?" Kovac asked pointedly, sitting down on the edge of the fireplace hearth to absorb some of the fire's heat.
Straker laughed mirthlessly, "I can assure you that Roswell is not a joke," and he surprised her by sitting down next to her on the hearth. He stirred his own tea around a bit before speaking again," How much have you heard about Roswell?"
Kovac lifted both her eyebrows and shrugged, "Just what the TLC specials on television tell us: that aliens crash landed out in New Mexico in 1947 and the American government has been in overdrive trying to cover it up ever since."
"Like all good rumors, portions of it are true," Straker admitted, "An alien craft did crash land in New Mexico. The American air force base near the crash site was sent out to handle it. But, once the story of a UFO crash hit the airwaves, the government had to dispel it as fast as possible."
"I suppose. World War II had just ended two years earlier. If the Allied countries thought Hitler was their worst nightmare, imagine what the threat of an alien menace would be like!" Kovac agreed.
"Not only that. National security had been seriously breached and we were into the Cold War. Stalin and the Communists were supposed to be the new Number One enemy. Bear in mind, the aliens were making little trips here to planet earth for some time, and until that crash, hard evidence had been unavailable."
"So what happened?"
"Not only was there a crash, but there'd also been survivors. Aliens who could and did communicate with the highest level of the American government for their own freedom and return to their home planet. These communications went all the way to the White House and the Pentagon. The American government struck a deal with the aliens."
Kovac felt the color rush out of her face, "What kind of deal?" Her voice was hushed.
"The worst kind. The American government, the President and his Joint Chiefs of Staff, hammered out an agreement with the aliens. A trade-off. In return for giving the American military some of their advanced technology, they would let the surviving aliens contact their home planet and go home - kinda like E.T. But the comparison ends there," Straker's face was grim as he continued, "The President and his cronies thought they had a good deal. The aliens didn't seem interested in having their presence here known by the general population. Like most American negotiations, the President and his men thought they had the aliens over a barrel. Except...........the aliens played a kind of hardball Old Harry and his generals could barely even imagine. The aliens asked for carte blanche to kidnap, examine, experiment on human subjects at their choice. And, if they didn't get this concession from the American government, they'd continue taking what they wanted BY FORCE. They had the technology and power to completely take over the entire planet."
"Didn't the President ask why the aliens wanted to use humans?"
"The aliens were shrewd. They didn't want to give the Americans a bargaining chip. They were dying even then, we think. They'd already begun kidnapping humans for their organs, experimenting on them, etc. Roswell was just the crystallizing incident that brought the aliens up close and personal with the American government. And, not only the American government. They told the President that if he didn't want to deal with them, maybe Stalin would."
Kovac gasped, "Harry didn't want to lose the Cold War to the Commies!"
"Exactly. He dealt with them to keep them from making a deal with the Russians."
"But, what guarantees did the Americans have that the aliens wouldn't play both sides of the fence and deal with Stalin after all?"
"Technology. The aliens gave the U.S. military stuff they could hardly dream of. Gave them a heads up on the kind of rocket propulsion that sent the original NASA astronauts to the moon even. That kind of technology was likely ancient to the aliens, but not to the Americans. And, once the Americans were obviously ahead in the arms, technology and space races, it looked like the aliens were keeping their part of the bargain."
"The Russians were the first into space, though. I remember Yuri Gagarin was the first Russian cosmonaut. The Americans didn't get Alan Shepard and John Glenn aloft until the early 1960's."
"Did the aliens welch on their deal with the Americans? Maybe. But, by then it was too late. The government made the deal in 1947. At that point, the Americans were still leading the techo-race. The Russians got the bomb after WWII, remember? But, who could have helped them?"
"My God! They WERE playing both sides of the fence!" Kovac exclaimed.
"Probably. The spies convicted of passing atomic secrets to the Russians, the Rosenbergs, were executed in 1956. We'll never know now. And, they didn't volunteer any information on aliens that we know of. The real trial transcripts were destroyed after their execution."
"Man, what a head-fuck!" Kovac shook her head, looking at Straker, abashed,"Sorry for the expletive deleted!"
"If Nixon could use the F-word, I suppose you can," Straker smiled, "Have I over-loaded your mind?"
Kovac sighed and put down her now-empty tea mug on the coffee table, "And I thought the X-Files was just a TV show."
"Chris Carter comes so close to the truth he scares me sometimes, "Straker joked, referring to the X-Files' imaginative producer.
"Has he ever worked for the Harlington-Straker studio?"
Straker laughed now, "No, but perhaps we should recruit him."
Kovac attempted to stifle a yawn, "Sorry, it isn't that this isn't utterly fascinating, but I don't sleep too well at night. I'm always pooped."
"You can stretch out in the spare room if you want. I've got some reports to look over before I crash for the night, myself."
"Are you sure it wouldn't be an imposition?"
"Having to drive you back into the SHADO headquarters would be more of an imposition."
"Well, if you're sure you don't mind having a house guest...." Kovac was tentative.
"Just as long as you're not one of those happy happy morning people. I hate happy happy morning people," Straker cautioned her.
"No, you don't have to worry about that. I'm not worth a damn till I have that first blast of caffeine in the morning. I just schlep around half out of ......," Kovac was almost going to mention the fact she slept starkers, and decided against it. After all, the man was her boss, and old enough to be her.......big brother.
"Fine. Second door to the right. Sleep tight."
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"You kept her over night at your house? What are you up to, Ed? Are you out of your mind?"
"I was trying to get her back on-line, Alec. She was pretty messed up. I think she could be valuable to us in time, and I wanted to make her see that."
"I notice you haven't had any of the other NASA astronauts doing an over-nighter at your house."
"Christ, if it'll make you happy, Alec, I'll invite them ALL for a sleep-over next week!"
Alec leaned over Straker, "Don't get yourself involved. You'd be the first one to caution me in a similar situation. I thought you were past all that."
"Look, I'm old enough to be her..........big brother. I didn't want to see her wash herself out."
"Just don't make it personal, Ed."
"It's not personal. It's about protecting SHADO's investment in her."
"Yeah. Sure. I believe you."
Straker lit his cigarillo, partly in defiance of Alec's comments, and partly to annoy him as thoroughly as he was being annoyed. He drew in a long intake and then blew out a couple of perfect smoke rings. He'd perfected the smoke ring technique years ago, and knew it always pissed the hell out of Freeman,"Did you talk to Paul about that situation in Canada?"
"Yes," Alec knew Straker was intentionally changing the subject, "They've done some on-site reckoning. It's definitely a hot spot. Something's happening. The problem is that the crew tend to stick out too much. They don't blend in very well with the locals."
"Mmmmm. Gonna have to do something about that quick. I thought Paul sent in a Canadian team to assess the situation."
"Hah - from Toronto! The crew doesn't exactly know how to interact with farmers and fishermen. They've pulled back to keep security, but they've got the area under tight surveillance."
"So what we need is a crew which can work undetected?"
"We rarely have situations this isolated."
"Are there any operatives from that part of Canada we could send in?"
"I don't even want to mention it, but yes, we've got one."
"Who?"
"Tina Kovac," Alec supplied, quietly.
"Shit. I'd forgotten that...." Straker caught the look in Alec's eye. He blew more smoke rings, nervously.
"She's not ready for an assignment like this, Ed. You know that."
"And, we've got a crisis about to explode in our faces! It has to be handled!"
"I strongly advise against this. Her family is there. Her husband. Her kids. Her whole life. You know what Doug Jackson said - she can't be trusted not to go AWOL at the first opportunity! If you put her down on Prince Edward's Island, or wherever this situation is, we have no guarantees that she won't take the chance to come back from the grave and rejoin her family. We simply cannot take that kind of risk!"
"I don't think she'll run, Alec," Straker said quietly, "She understands now. She knows what we're trying to do here - she wants to be a part of it."
Alec stood up suddenly, and leaned over Straker, "You think one night in your bed is going to make that woman give up everything she really cares about?"
Straker was out of his seat, barely controlling his fury, "Christ Almighty! I don't have to answer to you or anyone in this organization for my sexual habits. Least of all YOU!"
"I'm just trying to remind you to use more than your arse when making decisions from the responsibility seat!"
"She's the best bet we've got, Alec. I'll have her cleared by Jackson, if that'll make you feel better. It's imperative we clean up that situation over there. If she can do it, so much the better," Straker's control was improving, "Look, we can send her in with Paul's Canadian team, and they'll be with her all the time."
"I'm warning you, Ed, she's a time bomb."
"A diffused time bomb, Alec."
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Straker was still fuming the next day when he called Dr. Doug Jackson in for a consultation. First off, he was pissed because Alec had had the temerity to assume he'd slept with Kovac. Secondly, he was PO'ed because Alec suggested he was letting his gonads affect his decision-making abilities. And, thirdly, he was pissed because he was fifty-eight years old and the idea of sleeping with Kovac had never even entered his mind. SHADO had been his real mistress for the last thirty years.
Dr. Jackson, with his strange Slavic features, and even stranger voice, was a highly trusted SHADO shrink. In fact, most SHADO personnel didn't believe Jackson was his real name. Straker could always depend on Jackson for an accurate assessment of any SHADO operative, or psychological condition. He was the perfect shrink - cruelly analytical, completely without bias, and utterly thorough.
"Well, Doug, what's the story on Kovac? Did you do a new assessment?" Straker gestured Dr. Jackson to a seat in front of his desk.
Always correct, Jackson seated himself, but retained a ramrod-straight posture in his chair. He paused for effect, watching Straker's expression, and said, "I did a new assessment as ordered, General."
"And?" Straker lit another cigarillo off the old one. He dropped the old one into an ashtray. Chain smoking again, Jackson noted. Not a good sign.
"You read my report, didn't you?"
"Yes, I read it. But, I wanted to talk to you personally, Doug." Straker's usage of Jackson's first name was unusual. Jackson was on his guard.
"I haven't magically changed my opinion in the last 24 hours. The report stands."
"So, you think Kovac's still a security risk," Straker regarded him with a scowl.
Jackson, unaccustomed to being the one under such intense scrutiny, returned Straker's stare directly, "I do. She has improved somewhat, but not enough to be part of such a delicate operation. While she may be a native of the area under surveillance, which could be useful, she has no training or experience in this type of work. The temptation would be far too great for her."
Straker was silent while he digested Jackson's comments. Finally, he said, "What if I decide to send her anyway?"
"Then, you'll have to be prepared to eliminate her when she breaks. The team will have to kill her."
"Shit." Straker blew some more smoke rings.
Jackson broke the silence by getting up from his chair to leave, "General, it's your decision, of course, but.............you'd be asking too much of her by sending her back there."
"She might be able to help us break this thing wide open, Doug."
"And, she might also expose the entire organization, as well. Is it worth it? Are you willing to push your lover that far? Sacrifice us all and everything we've worked for?" Obviously Alec had been doing some talking!
"Get out,"Straker's voice voice was deadly calm, but Jackson knew he'd said too much.
"Read my report again, General. It's based on the cold hard facts." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kovac entered Straker's office as requested. She was still in her lab coat. He offered her a caffeinated beverage, and she turned it down. She had to get back to some cultures she was working on soon.
"I know you're involved with some research, but I wanted to speak to you in person about a situation which we've been following. I might have to reassign you for a time." Straker watched her intently. She nodded, and he continued, "The Omega Corporation has been monitoring a problem which we think is going to need action very soon. In fact, ASAP. We've been holding back, not because we don't have the manpower, but because it's an extremely sensitive mission, and we need someone who will be able to work with the locals and help the Omega team investigate more closely."
"So.....why are you telling me all this?"
"Because I'm considering reassigning you to the Omega team for this one mission."
"They're headquartered in New York City, aren't they?"
"Right. But, you won't be going to the Big Apple. You'll be going somewhere else. Canada. Prince Edward Island." There - he'd said it.
Straker watched as Kovac got up out of her seat and paced the length of his office several times. She ran a hand through her hair, pulling the elastic out. Finally, she paced back to the front of his desk.
"What is this?" she asked, taking a deep, shaking breath,"Time off for good behavior? Some sort of joke?"
"It's no joke. We've got a problem in a small rural village in eastern PEI and we need someone who not only knows the geography, but knows the people. Someone who can fit in, get their confidence. Push the investigation along. We need your help."
She dropped down into her chair again, "I can't do this."
"Of course you can. You won't be responsible for the operation, you'll just be the facilitator."
Kovac stood up and faced Straker, "NO! I mean, I can't DO this! If I go home.....I don't think I can......leave.....without....." she couldn't finish, but she didn't have to. Straker knew what she was trying to say. Suddenly, her expression changed, "That's why the extra assessment with Jackson for me. You ordered it!"
"I've got his report right here - wanna see it?" Straker tapped the plastic covered dossier on his desk.
"I don't have to............I can just imagine what Jackson said about me," Kovac ruffled her hair again, "That man gives me the creeps......"
"Look, Tina, I know what you think. I know what Jackson thinks. Hell, I even know what Alec Freeman thinks, although I'd rather he kept his opinions to himself. But, you have an opportunity here. A chance to prove yourself. I'd like to see you take it."
Sighing, Kovac sat down again, "Great choice. Go home, never see my family again, and prove myself. Or go AWOL and die." She caught Straker's eye, "That's what will happen if I break on this mission isn't it?"
For once, Straker didn't feel like being the heavy, "You won't break."
"Jackson probably said I'd be a major security risk. I AM a security risk if you send me home. What makes YOU so sure? "
"Because you know now what's at stake. You know that your job with SHADO will ultimately save the lives of your family. And, that the price you have to pay for their safety is living without them."
Kovac swallowed hard, "How soon do I leave?"
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Straker arranged for Kovac to take a commercial flight to New York on the Concorde. She'd been thoroughly briefed before leaving, and Paul Foster was going to meet her at JFK airport.
"I'm Foster. You must be Ms. Kovac?" Even after fifteen years in the United States, Foster still retained a hint of his British accent.
Kovac nodded. She knew Foster from her briefing, "Reporting as ordered, sir." She hoisted her small overnight bag to her shoulder.
Foster led her out to a long black limo and helped her into the back compartment.
"The Omega Corporation certainly knows how to roll out the red carpet," Kovac commented.
"We're a software company, Ms. Kovac - a very successful software company. Not as well known as Microsoft, but we're working on that," Foster smiled at her. He pushed a small red button on a pushpadd console and the glass partition between their compartment and the driver slid up, "I take it you've been briefed?"
"The village in question is very small. I know it. It's got a couple of small campground sites for summer tourists, a B&B home, a general store, a local church and that's it. There are several watercourses where the fishermen sail out of," Kovac lifted the lid of her laptop, and punched a few keys to bring up a map, "Here, at Graham's Pond........here at Clow's Wharf..... and the old Poverty Beach area. That last one isn't used anymore. In fact, the breakwater and the wharf are long gone. There aren't many houses surrounding it. It's the most isolated spot in the village."
"The plan is to send us in as Environment Canada researchers, to do some reconnoitering and establish a base. We're to pose as a couple of married scientists. You're a "local" from Charlottetown, and I'm your new husband. We'll be looking to take water and soil samples, do some diving - all that. It'll explain why we're taking so many photos and video, and moving about, talking to people."
"The diving equipment is going to be for an underwater search?"
"Right. We've got to cover all the bases. We'll be in constant contact with the rest of the team. They're staying at a resort not far from the village. Some place in....."
"Brudenell," Kovac finished, "How are they going to back us up if we find anything?"
"SHADO developed a specialized fleet of SUV's awhile back. They're loaded with so much firepower they make James Bond's movie cars look like Corgi Toys!" Foster laughed.
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Kovac had wrestled all night with her feelings. Now, sitting in the private SHADO aircraft, flying over Atlantic Canada, she was face to face with her fears. In the bright summer sunlight, she watched the topography change, saw the blue of the ocean. And, caught her breath when the red cliffs of Prince Edward Island came into view.
It was still beautiful. All those terrible months, a virtual prisoner of SHADO, melted away as she drank in the beloved scenery of her home. Brick red cliffs rose majestically out of sapphire blue waters, only to give way to a patchwork quilt of green, yellow and red fields. Kovac forced back the tears. If there was any one time in the last year she had to forget her emotions, this was going to be it. She had to put her personal problems aside. She had to view this whole trip as a mission to make the world safe for "democracy." She had no family any more. She was like Straker, like Freeman, Jackson, Foster - just one more SHADO drone.
The aircraft landed at the Charlottetown airport. She had lived in Charlottetown, and knew the area well. Once they collected their luggage, they proceeded outside to also collect their vehicle. As Foster had mentioned, a dark blue SUV, with an attached travel trailer, awaited them in the parking lot.
Foster threw her the keys, "You drive," he smiled.
Kovac got in the driver's seat, adjusted the steering wheel, and shifted into gear. She reversed, turned, and smoothly drove the SUV and its tag-along out of the parking lot and onto the highway.
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The SUV's stereo was blasting Shania Twain. Kovac made a call to the larger of the village's campgrounds to secure a spot for the week on the cell phone. She did so in her best "home town" voice, using the slight Scottish twang many Islanders spoke with. If Foster noticed her change in speech, he didn't acknowledge it. He could tell she was building herself up to performance level.
"Any particular reason for playing Shania?" Foster asked, squinting into the sunlight and turning the visor down on his side of the vehicle.
"Looking for some deep-seated psychological answer in my choice of music?" Kovac glanced at him.
"Actually, no," Foster smiled gamely, "Just making conversation."
Kovac gave him a look that said 'keep off' and kept driving. She headed the SUV and trailer down the highway marked for the town of Montague. Upon their arrival there, she stopped at a gas station, pumped in $10 worth.
Then she swung the vehicle around and eased into a drive-through.
"I think it's time you were acquainted with a little Canadian tradition. How do you take your coffee?" she asked, approaching the Tim Horton's drive-through order speaker.
"Uhhhh......black, I guess," he shifted in his seat.
"May I take your order?" the speaker suddenly blared into life.
"Yeah, I want a large black and a small double double, please."
"Anything else?"
"Gimme a box of mixed Timbits!"
"Ok - please drive up to the window to get your order!"
Foster tilted his head to one side, "What's a Timbit?"
Kovac maneuvered the SUV to the pick-up window, dug in her dress pocket for some change, and hauled out some loonies and toonies, "Just a little something to make us look more the part. Nothing like a couple of empty Tim's cups in the truck to confirm our status as Atlantic Canadians," she smiled absently.
The drive-through window opened, and the clerk handed out a pulp tray with two paper coffee cups and the requested box of Timbits. Kovac instructed her to "keep the change," and handed the items over to Foster, "Help yourself," she indicated the goodies.
"So what's this.....Tim Horton's?" Foster asked, taking the lid off his coffee.
"No, no...not that way, you'll spill it all over yourself......the roads have really bad frost heave at this time of year.......," Kovac told him to put the lid back on.
"I can't drink it this way!"
"Yes, you can - see that little perforated section at the front of the lid? Turn that up and push it into place.....," Kovac stopped the SUV and did it for him, "Voila!"
"Canadians!"
"Why, Mr. Foster, we Canadians have an impeccable reputation around the world," Kovac bantered. It was the first time he'd seen her even close to a smile, "Tim's, my uninformed Americanized Brit friend, has been a Canadian institution for the last 20 years or so. Absolutely everyone, especially in Atlantic Canada, relies on their Tim's coffee to socialize, conduct business with and generally treat themselves. It's a franchise company that earns literally millions of dollars annually in this country. Because Canadians cannot do without their Tim's."
"I see," Foster sipped his coffee thoughtfully. This was a little wrinkle his Canadian Omega team never even mentioned, "Very strong, isn't it?"
"That's why I ordered a double double for myself."
"What's that?"
"Two helpings of cream and sugar both. Try the Timbits - they're good. Personally, I like the filled ones."
Foster opened the little colored box and extracted an innocuous-looking roundlet of sugared donut. He took a bite off it, and licked the jam off his lips, "Edible," he pronounced it, helping himself to another, then another.
Kovac noted his eating, but didn't comment on it.
"We'll be at the campground shortly. Do I call you Paul?"
Swallowing a Timbit, Foster nodded, "I'm your new husband, remember? Married couples are generally on a first name basis."
"Yes, I do seem to recall that aspect of my marriage," Kovac said quietly.
"Sorry, I wasn't trying to dredge anything up for you --"
Kovac waved him off abruptly, "We've got a job to do here. I'm just like any other SHADO drone."
"What?" Foster asked, looking at her pointedly.
She waved him off again, "Just my twisted sense of humour showing, Paul."
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The campground was in easy walking and/or driving distance from the wharves Kovac had cited to Foster earlier. They paid their fees, took some good-natured ribbing from the proprietor on this being their "honeymoon," and parked in their space. They opened the trailer, unhitched the SUV, and sat down to some microwaved lunchables.
"Well, at least this isn't SHADO rations," Foster smiled as he forked down some food, "I should have picked us up more groceries."
Kovac waved him off again, "I'll handle it later today. It's a good excuse to hit the general store and shmooze around some locals. Where do you want to start?"
"What about those wharves you mentioned."
"Sure. We can walk down to Clow's Wharf, which is just up the road, and we can drive over to the other two. I'll unpack the videocams. Why don't you touch base with our friends at Brudenell?"
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After taking some video footage at Clow's Wharf and Graham's Pond, Kovac suggested they go down to Poverty Beach. The first two wharves were busy-looking places, with fishing boats, traps, and and other equipment. But, no fisherman. Just lonely seagulls looking for a handout.
Kovac, still in the driver's seat, turned the SUV down a long road, past the few houses closest to the intersection, and finally down a semi-rutted path which had once been part of the road. She parked and got out with her videocam. Foster followed her.
"There used to be a breakwater and wharf here. They've been gone for the better part of 30 years now. My grandfather fished out of here, actually."
"So that's how you know the area so well," Foster commented.
"In two generations, our family went from sailing the sea to sailing the sky.....," Kovac mused aloud. She turned back to him, "We can walk down a little further, but there's only so far we can go here...."
They took a few more steps, and Kovac stopped. She raised her binoculars, "Paul........... take a look at this, will you."
Foster raised his own binoculars and followed her gaze over the water, "You're looking at?"
"About two o'clock. There's a tiny projection out of the water, there. See it?"
"Just barely. I wear contacts now, you know," he smiled.
Kovac shook her head and kept staring out at something.
"What's the matter?"
"I don't know exactly. But, I don't remember that being here last summer."
"Could it just be a piece of broken wharf?"
"No........like I said, the wharf hasn't been here for decades. People don't even swim down here much, Paul. It's just a forgotten place........."
Kovac lowered her binocs, "I'm going to videotape this and send it back to headquarters for them to have a look at it with infrared and heat sensor processing."
"I'll use the digital camera on it," Paul uncapped the lens and zoomed in on the projection, "You were here when last?"
"Last June - we were down to buy some lobsters........," Kovac used another small SHADO instrument to take readings, "I'm getting some strange stuff here...."
"Let me see," Paul glanced down at his tect-corder, "Mmmmm, yesssss......I shouldn't think there would be any kind of readings like that in this location."
"The Irving Company cleaned up that sunken oil barge off the Island coast a couple of years ago. Besides, I don't think oil barges emit radiation, no matter how small the dose."
"They wouldn't have been carrying hazardous wastes on that barge, would they?"
"There was a major environmental study done on the barge - it was just oil as far as I know. If there was anything else more dangerous, I think it would also have been taken care of. No company can afford to fail in public accountability around here where the environment is concerned."
"What do you want to do, then?" Was Foster testing her?
"I'd like to come back right away and make a dive on that site. See what's really down there," and she turned back to get in their SUV.
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Foster and Kovac returned to Poverty Beach about thirty minutes later. They suited up quietly outside the SUV. Nobody came to investigate them. As Kovac had indicated, the area was mostly unfrequented. The sun was still shining brightly on the sparkling blue waters.
Kovac attached all her instruments and her breathing tank to herself, but pointedly left her small underwater weapon and holster in the suit trunk. She snapped the lid down and turned the electronic dials to lock it.
"You're not taking your side arm?" Foster asked her, checking his own and sliding it into the holster over his wet suit.
"That's what I have you for, Paul," she noticed his grimace, "I'm not exactly a crack shot with that thing."
"SHADO Rule Number One, Kovac - don't go anywhere unarmed."
"Mmmm, well, I'll use my own discretion on that one,"she started marching ahead of Foster, flippers in one hand and a small marine vidcam in the other. Kovac stopped at the edge of the water, it was high tide, and slipped on the fins. Then, she walked in far enough to submerge and disappeared from view. Foster waddled into the water after her, putting his mouthpiece in just before going under.
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Kovac fully expected the view underwater to be clear. The dark murkiness surprised her. She should have been able to see the submerged remains of the wharf and the breakwater. Instead, it appeared as though a thick, smoky pall floated in front of her. Foster paddled up silently and gestured for her to go ahead. He was expecting her to lead the way, and the murk was starting to disorient her. She thought back to her NASA dive training. Should she proceed where she couldn't see? Kovac increased the power intensity of her underwater flashlight, and shone it into the "fog." It seemed thick, almost tangible.
Foster was treading water beside her. The "fog" had a strange solidity to it. Kovac experimentally reached out to touch it, and "lost" her hand in the murk. She looked over at Foster, and pressed her comm-link, "What d'ya think?"
"I think I've got a bad feeling about this........," Foster replied, through his headset.
"You've seen something like this before?" Kovac asked, fighting a rising panic. She could discern something just beyond the reach of her normal five senses, and she didn't like it. Red flags were being thrown up in her brain. Every instinct was telling her to get out there - fast!
"Maybe........it was a long time ago..."
Kovac thrust her hand into the "fog" again and realized there was definitely something on the other side. It felt warm. It felt...........alive, somehow. She looked at Foster again. Against all the warning signals in her head she told him, "There's something in there. Cover me..."
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They passed through the "fog" to the other side. It was indeed warm. In fact, much warmer than the water temperature had been outside the "fog." Foster looked at his thermometer and spoke through his comm-link, "Christ, it's twenty degrees warmer in here!"
Kovac nodded, and pressed her own comm-link, "Like a warm bath. I can tell you right now this is VERY unnatural for these waters!"
As they swam further, they became so disoriented they were having difficulty even finding the seabed.
"Where's the bottom?" Foster asked, swimming deeper, reaching out his hands to explore.
"It's..........like it's gone.....," Kovac muttered. She too moved downward, "I think we better stop for a minute and get our bearings." She shone her light on her compass, but the hand spun round and round, refusing to register properly. Foster saw it too, and looked at her through grim eyes behind his mask. If the compass was on the fritz, that meant something in the "fog" was interfering with the magnetics. Foster opened his underwater GPS instrument and pressed a few buttons to get their position. Nothing registered at all.
"Well, we can't just stay here in limbo,"Kovac stated, "We've got to do something."
"We should be going back to report this to the Omega Team," Foster looked at her.
"You go back. I'll keep moving here and see if I can find an end to this..........fog or whatever....," Kovac suggested.
"You can't go alone."
"And, you don't need me to call the Team. I can come back and give a you progress report."
Foster was dubious. He didn't want to leave her, but he also knew the team had to be alerted. With no way to determine their position underwater, one of them would have to find a way to the surface and radio in where they were and what they'd seen. The Team would be on their way immediately.
"Look, Paul, the team can be here from Brudenell in ten minutes with those SUVs they've got. Get them down here. I'll go on ahead and see if I can find an end to this......stuff."
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The feeling of panic was rising, but Kovac fought it. She was so completely enveloped in the "fog" that she couldn't see her own body. It was as though something had churned up the mud from the bottom and it wouldn't settle. With no real idea of where to go, she simply kept swimming forward. She kept checking her chronograph to track her amount of time underwater. There was only so much air in her tanks. How soon should she consider trying to surface?
After her chronograph told her she'd been down for 40 minutes or more, she decided, based on her knowledge of the area, that she had to have traveled well away from the shoreline and the remnants of the wharf. Kovac felt it was time to surface and make her way back to Foster on the beach. She turned to paddle back the way she came......
Hands! Many pairs of hands grasped her body, her limbs, her equipment! Kovac struggled furiously, against the unseen owners of those hands, thrashing, splashing - she reached for her weapon - belatedly remembering how she'd left it behind instead of bringing it........
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Back on shore, Foster had used a special SHADO cell phone to contact the Omega team, waiting at Brudenell, "I don't know. She hasn't surfaced yet and she's got to be running out of air......."
The Team leader replied, "We can be there shortly, sir. Just give us the word."
"Don't use the chopper. It'll cause too much excitement around here. Bring the SUVs - and your diving gear - I think we're going to have to go in after her."
"How long has she been down there?"
"By herself, almost an hour."
"We'll be there in 15 minutes."
Foster trained his binoculars out towards the remnants of the wharf. The original item which registered so peculiarly, and sent them diving there, was no longer visible. Strange, with the tide going out, more of it should have been seen above the surface......
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When the Team arrived, they were suited up and ready to follow Foster. They'd told the locals previously that they were Environment Canada scientists researching the deterioration of the old wharf and the breakwater. Islanders were very used to having environmental people around - aqua culture and agriculture which were very important to the Island economy and way of life - studies of the environment were ongoing constantly.
Foster briefed them again quickly and led the team down into the slowly receding water. The tide had started going out. Five SHADO people, including Foster, submerged into the murk he'd reported earlier to the Team.
Silently, they swam down into the "fog."
"It's like pea soup down here," Team member Tom Robertson commented over the comm-link.
"Wait till we get further, there's a point at which the water temperature increases dramatically," Foster explained over his own comm-link, "Once we get inside the stuff, we won't even be able to use our GPS or our compasses, so let's everybody take a bearing right now, before we go any further."
All five opened their GPS instruments to take readings. And, all five got a different bearing!
"Alright, this is what we're going to do," Foster decided, "I want Robertson, Tupper and Chacon to go back to shore. Little and Leslie, follow me," he turned to the other three, "If you don't hear from us in one hour, inform HQ. And, DON'T come in after us." The three SHADO operatives turned and began swimming back the direction they'd come. Foster continued on with the others. Little and Leslie were big men, they could handle themselves in a fight, and Leslie was an expert in alien technology. He'd need him if they came into actual contact with the extra terrestrials or any of their equipment.
They passed through the "fog" into the warmer section. By that time, none of their electronic equipment was functioning properly. It was still impossible to see anything.
"Kovac thought at this point, we probably would have passed the ruins of the wharf and the breakwater, and be outside PEI's provincial waters. Since we can't take any reliable readings, we'll have to take her word for it," Foster's voice crackled through the comm-link.
"Are we going anywhere at all?" asked Leslie.
"We could try surfacing, " suggested Little.
On a nod from Foster, they all swam upwards, pushing hard with their flippers.
Hands! Hands! Many pairs of hands were clutching their bodies, their limbs, their equipment! Foster and his team were trapped, unable to see their attackers, losing consciousness..........
Foster's last coherent thoughts were, "God Almighty - is this what happened to Kovac?"
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Slowly, his eyes began to focus.......Foster looked around in the dim light. He saw Leslie and Little lying slumped on the floor with him. He looked down for his weapon and his equipment pieces, but they had all been removed, as had those articles from the other divers. The room they were in did not appear to have a door. It seemed sealed completely. Foster shook his comrades awake and started walking the perimeter of the room, feeling with his hands for any sort of change in the smooth walls that might indicate a door or exit.
It wasn't until Leslie and Little looked up at him that Foster realized the worst. Inside new alien helmets with tiny backpacks attached, they were breathing a green liquid! He knew he also had to be breathing the same material. He was now in no doubt about what kind of installation they were in!
"Aliens!" he exclaimed to the other two, but there was no comm-link. Leslie and Little were also looking at Foster and at each other. They'd all come to the same horrible realization together.
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Because their chronographs had been removed, the three SHADO men had no idea how long they'd been trapped in the alien room. Even with all three investigating the walls, ceiling and floor, they had not discovered one spot that suggested a way out. They did know that their own air tanks would have run out hours earlier, and breathing the alien liquid was all that was keeping them alive. Their comm-links had also been removed, so they couldn't even communicate with each other, except via American Sign Language. SHADO personnel were instructed in this mode of communications just for times like this, when normal speech was not possible, but all three were so rusty, they had to repeat their messages several times before they understood each other. Even using ASL, the SHADO men had little to communicate to each other. All they could do was wait. But, for what?
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"Shit! I thought I could trust Paul with this mission!" Straker fumed, lighting another cigarillo furiously. He was pacing his office while Alec checked a laptop computer for the latest e-mail messages.
"Robertson says Foster and the other divers have been missing for over three hours. Foster gave them strict instructions NOT to follow them, but to report to us," Alec commented.
Straker stopped pacing for a moment, "Is the other team on its way?"
"They were flying in from Toronto - they should be there as we speak."
Freeman was watching Straker intently. He was about to speak when Straker cut him off, "Don't say it, Alec! You were right. Jackson was right! I shouldn't have sent Kovac in there!"
"Both Foster and Kovac are missing, along with the other SHADO people. It may not be because of anything Kovac did wrong. Paul's last e-mail suggested she was performing well - up until she disappeared. Chances are she ran into trouble - not that she compromised the mission. What's the problem, Ed? Feeling guilty? It'd be the first time for you."
Straker gritted his teeth in what passed for a grim smile, "I shouldn't have risked sending her in there. She wasn't ready. She told me so. Jackson said so. Damn it!" he pounded his fist on the wall and then stood there, his head pressed against his fist.
Freeman had rarely seen Straker in such a mood. He'd seen Straker big time pissed off, he'd seen him pleased about some successful mission or project; he'd even seen him frustrated, but this was unusual. If Freeman didn't know better, his commander was exhibiting fear and guilt. Not two of Straker's customary emotions.
Both men jumped as the e-mail squawked. Alec hit the receive key and waited a moment until the message came in on his laptop's screen, "It's from Robertson. The second team is there - they're awaiting your orders."
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The Canadian Omega Team Two, consisting of seven divers, was ready to follow General Straker's new orders. Three operatives would remain on land, investigating what was left of the wharf and breakwater now that the tide was completely out. Robertson, Chacon and Tupper would lead the other four down under. They followed the Team One divers one at a time, spaced out at three minute intervals.
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The three SHADO men had alternately lain on the floor, trying to rest while one stood guard. It wasn't possible to do it in precise time intervals because they lacked a reliable timepiece. Using the ASL, they felt their communications were at least private. If the aliens had them under surveillance, it was unlikely they could decode sign language.
How many hours they had been imprisoned in the small, doorless room, they could only hazard a guess. Since the aliens had not put in an appearance, nor offered them any food, they were all grimly of the opinion that they were just marking time until execution or some other equally undesirable end. The three of them were sitting on the floor, their backs to each other to watch the walls for possible openings, when the ceiling opened up........
Three aliens descended on a small thin elevator-type mechanism. The SHADO men instantly leapt to their feet, ready to do battle. But, it was no use. The aliens pointed small-pen-sized instruments at them. Leslie jumped forward, and was sent sprawling by a painful blast from one of the aliens' "pens." The aliens motioned for Foster and Little to get him up again, then they pushed them onto the elevator and ascended to the next level.
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Foster, Little and Leslie found the brightness on the next level almost painful after the dim light in their small prison. They turned away at first, but the aliens jerked them around roughly, maneuvered them through a three-slabbed sliding door and sat them down in large dental type seats. Each SHADO man was strapped down in his turn, so he was unable to move. The aliens were wearing thin silver suits and light helmets - very unlike their usual orange and silver space suits. Obviously, in this underwater installation, they didn't require such hardy equipment. Foster and his men noticed the aliens moved with a smoothness that the much heavier Terrans didn't have. They were slim, almost willowy, and seemed to float across the floor's surface like synchronized swimmers. And, yet, for all their seeming fragility, they had no difficulty in wrestling Foster, Little and Leslie into those seats.
If he could have done so, Foster would have asked the aliens about Kovac. He wondered if she was already dead. How would they ever know? And, would he even survive to make a report to SHADO HQ?
His attention was immediately brought back as the alien technicians, if that's what they were, began cutting away his wet suit. Out of his peripheral vision, he could see the same process was being repeated on Little and Leslie. None of them were able to resist physically - they were too well restrained. Their heads were covered by helmets full of green breathing liquid. If those helmets and backpacks were removed, would they suffocate?
The aliens quickly and efficiently sliced off their wet suits with some sort of small laser cutting devices. All three men were wearing thermal underwear, which was also removed. They were then covered with boxer type shorts which sealed shut with some sort of velcro-style closings.
Foster watched the faces of the two aliens who worked on him. They did not appear to be communicating with each other - at least not verbally. Their demeanor was non-emotional. They went about their work with great dispassion; rather like well-experienced Terran vets working on dogs or cats. They simply seemed to be preparing the SHADO men for something else. Once the change of clothing had been effected, the aliens moved in three small tables with an assortment of strange-looking instruments and tools beside each SHADO man. Foster, Little and Leslie all looked at each other. They didn't need sign language to express their concerns at this point......
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How many times could one scream silently? Foster had given up counting. He was in too much pain to even worry much about Little and Leslie. All he could imagine was that they were suffering the same pain and indignities he was. The feeling of violation was stronger than he'd ever felt - even when he'd been trapped on the Moon's surface with an alien. Even when he'd been kidnapped from the spa 20 years ago.
Was there no end to it? Foster wondered fleetingly if this was how women who'd been raped felt. The aliens went about their work with cruel efficiency. What did the aliens want? Or was this merely what happened to those who dared get too close to the aliens's underwater installation?
Time was not fleeting. An eternity passed in those seats. By the time Foster thought he could not quell his rising fear of insanity, the aliens had strangely concluded their experiments and moved the little tables back. They loosened the restraints, and in pairs, the aliens worked to lift the humans onto their feet. All three Terrans were tall, well-muscled men. They dwarfed the aliens in height and weight. Foster squirmed in their grasp until he was able to make two ASL hand signals to Leslie and Little.
Weak, and in severe pain, but fueled by their suffering, the three SHADO men turned on the aliens. They struck them with their fists, punching right through the faceplates of their helmets! Red blood streaked the floor as Foster, Little and Leslie realized they'd cut their hands on the aliens' synthetic glass faceplates, but they were too far gone to care. What was a little more pain? All three were gratified to watch the aliens gasping for breath. Leslie, the heaviest-set of the three, wrestled one of his two aliens down, slamming its head repeatedly on the polished metal floor until its helmets shattered completely. He'd momentarily gone mad with some well-justified anger. Little and Foster made short work of the remaining aliens, and then pulled Leslie up. They appropriated the pen-like pain instruments off the aliens' suits to use as weapons.
Their lack of verbal communication was galling, as was the necessity to keep wearing the helmets and the backpacks with the breathing liquid. After watching the aliens die gasping from lack of the liquid, the SHADO men wondered if they'd suffer the same fate when their own liquid supply ran out. Before they could stop him, Leslie tore off his helmet and threw it to the floor, muscousy green liquid spraying everywhere. He took a deep breath.......
"Shit - we can breathe in here!" he muttered. Foster and Little tentatively took off their own helmets and backpacks, the green liquid running down the front of their bodies in thick rivulets. They inhaled shallowly, at first afraid to do so. Then, they sucked in more air. As if they could read each others' thoughts, the SHADO men began turning the dead aliens over, stripping them of their silver suits, and picking up the intact helmets. They wiped their own blood off on their shorts.
"I don't think these suits are going to be a great fit, but we've got to pass for three of them for as long as we can," Foster said quietly,"We've got to get out of here somehow and warn SHADO."
Leslie was forcing his much larger body into one of the alien suits, "We can't leave without finding Kovac, sir."
"Our first and best line of action is to get out of here. If we take the time to look for the others, we might not make it......Look, we just don't have TIME!" Foster told him quietly, but firmly.
"If do we some recon, we can tell HQ a lot more about this installation. And, in the process, we might find Kovac," Little insisted.
Leslie nodded, "Except for what's happened to us personally, we can't tell HQ much about this set-up. We should take a shot at learning some more - we don't know where this thing is planted, how it's powered, or how they've managed to keep the locals, and our people, outta here for so long. If we find Kovac, she'd have information, too. There's a lot of unanswered questions. You know Straker - he'll be up our asses for as much information as we can give."
Foster knew they were right. Even he wanted to look around. But, reporting to HQ seemed the best chance they had of wiping this place, whatever it was, off the map.
"We need to know what's going on here," Leslie added, "What are they doing here? What caused the locals to stay in their homes for days on end? What did the aliens do to THEM?"
Finally, Foster picked up a now empty helmet, "Alright. Let's do some recon, but we're going to bail as soon as we see the first sign of trouble. Everybody know how to use those little pen-things?"
All three smeared the inside of the helmets with the sticky green breathing liquid to give the impression they were aliens, and slung unattached backpacks over their shoulders. Without the liquid they could still breathe, and communicate verbally. Foster played with the comm-padd on the wall beside the door until it slid open and they stepped through it.
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One of the first things the SHADO men learned when they got outside their own chamber, was that the doors had transparent panels on the other side. This would make it much easier to see inside each room as they passed through the rabbits' warren of corridors. The alien installation's layout didn't make any sense to the Terrans, but then it didn't have to. It served the aliens' needs, whatever they were.
Foster, Little and Leslie knew they were physically bigger than the aliens they'd already seen. They hoped they could keep moving and keep a low enough profile from the other aliens in the installation, to escape notice long enough to reconnoiter and perhaps even find Kovac. And ultimately, they had to escape.
They turned many corners, peering nonchalantly into each chamber. Some were occupied with busy alien technicians, working on other humans, and some were building what appeared to be component parts, or conducting unknown lab experiments. The SHADO men did not recognize any of the humans in the rooms they passed, so they kept moving. As much as they would like to have rescued those fellow suffering humans, they had to avoid bringing attention to themselves in any way.
At an intersection of corridors, the three men stopped to decide which direction to take.
"We could learn more if we split up," whispered Leslie.
"Yeah, and be at the aliens' mercy if we get caught alone," Little hissed back.
Foster silenced them both with a hand movement, "Leslie's right - it's time we split up. Let's take ten minutes down one corridor each and report back to this spot if we can. Otherwise, we'll all have to continue trying to find an exit singly. It gives us three separate chances to get a message out to HQ."
The others nodded in assent, and started off down their chosen corridors quietly. Foster passed what seemed an empty area. The chambers he looked into were vacant of alien activity. He tried to count off ten minutes in his head. The corridor he traveled lead to a dead end. No exit there. He made his way back to the intersection.
Leslie was waiting for him when he got back.
"Sir, I found Kovac!" he whispered furiously.
"Where are she?"
"She's in a chamber down my corridor. Right now she looks to be alone."
Little arrived moments later, "Dead end," he commented softly.
"Al found Kovac," Foster told him, "Let's get down there."
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Kovac was alone in the chamber. What Leslie hadn't mentioned was that she was encased in a long, body-sized cylindrical tank, floating in green breathing liquid. The aliens had stripped her of her diving suit - she was nude.
"How the hell do we get her out of this thing?" Leslie asked Foster as they surveyed the tank. Little was keeping watch at the door. He was trying all the controls to see if there was a locking mechanism.
Foster moved from one end of the tank, looking for a control padd. There had to be some way of opening it. He slid his hands over the container, in case it was operated by touch. He wanted to avoid having to break the glass, or whatever it was made with. Leslie was the expert on alien technology, but even he was stumped.
"Why is she in this thing?" Foster asked quietly, "Is she even alive?"
Leslie peered in closely, "I'm sure I can see her chest rising and falling - but that green stuff is probably the same breathing liquid the aliens used us on."
"Damn. If we open it, will she suffocate like the aliens did?"
"We were breathing it, and we're alright. I just don't know how long she's been in there. The time factor might make a difference, " Leslie looked at Foster, "We'll never know unless we can get her out."
Grim choice - leave her there to be a guinea pig for the aliens to continue working on, or condemn her die gasping if she'd become too dependent on the breathing liquid. Foster remembered Straker always said he'd rather someone killed him, rather than leave him for the aliens to use for their own fiendish purposes.
"I don't want to break this thing open - there has to be an actual locking mechanism," Foster said sotto voce, "We can't afford to attract any unwelcome visitors."
Leslie shook his head. He'd been giving the tank the once over too, "I know there's a release pin on the alien helmets.........," he walked over to a lab table where a number of instruments were laid out, as though ready for surgery. Some of them looked familiar - too familiar for comfort. He lifted several scalpel-like instruments, "Maybe we can pry it open quietly with one of these."
"Do you think there's any sort of alarm on it? Will it scream bloody murder if we compromise it?" Foster asked.
"There's always the chance of either an alarm or a failsafe mechanism showing up somewhere else in this complex - I'd bet there's some sort of monitoring system here. But, the longer we take to make up our minds, the better our chances of getting caught. I can't guarantee this room isn't on closed-circuit TV, or the alien version of it."
"Right," Foster knew Leslie was just giving him the options. They both bent down to the thin "crack" where the lid met the bottom of the tank, "If we get it open, we're going to have a green mess on the floor."
"Yeah, I know. We'll have to step back from it if we can pry it open.....," Leslie slid his scalpel into the groove, and motioned for Foster to do the same.
"How do you think they got her in there? I mean, if she was conscious and able to struggle, it wouldn't be easy to get anyone in there and then close the lid." Foster asked, straining to force his scalpel deeper into the groove.
"There's what looks like a spout device inside the tank - maybe they pumped the breathing liquid in after they shut her up. Maybe she was in restraint," Leslie pushed harder and felt the handle of the scalpel break in his hand, "Shit, I broke it," he whispered, chagrined. He picked up another one, and reestablished his position at the tank lid. He threw his body against it , as did Foster. The green liquid sloshed up around the glassed in tank and Kovac's body moved from side to side like a child's toy in a bathtub. They pushed down again and sensed something clicking in the tank. Just as Leslie suspected, they must have hit on the locking mechanism. A wide stream of green liquid began pouring through the separation.
By now, both men were able to get their fingers in the groove - they pulled it up and over, thick green mucous splashing over their silver boots and puddling across the floor. Little moved away from the door, as if to help them, but Foster waved him back, "No, no...we can manage....."
They pushed the lid back into an upright position, and taking Kovac's head and shoulders at one end, and her feet at the other, they removed her from the tank. There was no choice but to put her on the floor in the green puddle. She lay there motionless, her skin tinged a pale green shade.
Foster looked up at Leslie. Was she dead? What could they do? Green liquid was streaming from her ears, her nostrils, her slightly opened mouth. Leslie crouched down and began CPR - pinching Kovac's nose, and breathing into her. Foster was going to start working on her heart, but he was rewarded, when he bent down to listen to her chest, with a steady, if slow, heartbeat.
"Heart's pumping," Foster whispered to Leslie, as he continued breathing into Kovac's mouth. Leslie stopped and shook his head, "Not for long unless I can get her to breathe right. Help me turn her over."
The two men shifted Kovac's body and watched more green liquid pouring out of her mouth and nose. A small noise and a body twitch alerted them that perhaps all was not lost - then Kovac started to make soft vomiting sounds - the kind a cat makes when it's trying to bring up a hairball.
Leslie and Foster exchanged relieved looks over Kovac's body, but they knew it wasn't over yet - not by a long shot. If she could breathe, and come back to full consciousness, they still had to be able to take her with them, and get out of there - alive!
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Although she hadn't been able to speak, Kovac was able to indicate to them that she could now breathe on her own, and was fully conscious. They found her a towel to wrap up in. Foster and Leslie quietly explained to her where they all were, and that their next move was to find the exit and get out. Finding some dive tanks would also be a major consideration.
"They removed ours, but I didn't see anything resembling our equipment in that room they had us in," Little commented.
"What about doing the green stuff again?" Leslie asked.
Foster grimaced, but he knew Leslie was right. It would be impossible to locate their own gear, and even then, their tanks might already be empty. If and when they were able to get out of the aliens' installation, they'd still have to swim for it.
"Anything like that in here?" Foster asked Kovac.
"I don't remember everything......when they grabbed me, I think I lost consciousness. But, I do recall being taken to some chamber where they stripped me, and pumped green liquid into my helmet," She ran her fingers through her wet, greenish slimed hair, squeezing the muscousy material off between her fingers, and shaking it off onto the floor, "It was like one of those nightmares you want to wake up from, but you can't, y'know?........I can feel them doing things to me......I think I passed out and woke up several times....."
Foster didn't want to seem impatient with her, but he needed more details, "Do you remember where they stripped you? Can you recall coming into the installation at all?"
"Yessss.........I think it was.......," Kovac looked up at Foster and Leslie, "I don't know....my perception of times and events is really screwed up......"
Leslie took her by the shoulders gently, "Go back to the entry point. Can you see it in your head?"
Kova