3. Not Just Another Fairy Tale (A UFO Story) by Denise Felt 2011 Chapter 1 Dr. Jackson fluffed the special extra-loft pillow on the narrow hospital bed one last time in preparation for his most difficult patient. He had found a long time ago that, when dealing with the commander in a medical situation, psychology had to play a much larger role than normal. In fact, he had to count on the bed looking so inviting that the commander would want to lie down. And the standard flat pillows used for these beds had no chance of enticing Straker into relaxing. So the doctor had ordered a very special pillow just for the commander’s occasional visits. The results so far had been encouraging. Straker continued to grouse about having to be examined. He still frowned at the mere thought of having any wound tended. But his eyes always betrayed him by glancing longingly at that comfortable pillow, and eventually he would give in and lie down on the bed. The doctor smiled to himself as he stepped back from the bed. He was ready for the commander today. He had a nurse standing by in the adjoining room, awaiting his signal to bring in his tray of surgical instruments. It would never do for the commander to see them before he was on the bed. Even the pillow wouldn’t work in that instance. But the doctor had seen the commander’s car when they brought it in for study, so he had a fair idea of the shape his most important patient was going to be in when he came into the Medical Centre. Once he was able to get the commander examined, the first order of business would be to sedate him. That way, when he woke up in the hospital instead of the Medical Centre, it would be far too late for him to complain about it. He had been surprised to learn that the Commander wasn’t being brought in on a gurney. Apparently, he was still able to walk without assistance. This was a concern. No one should be capable of walking around after hours of heavy bleeding. Unless – But Jackson cut his thoughts off at that point. He had no intention of entertaining such hideous conjectures until forced to do so. It was more important to focus on the fact that the commander had been found and was coming in for treatment. After all, a positive mental attitude was a physician’s most effective tool. He turned with a welcoming smile when the door slid open. Commander Straker walked into the Medical Centre’s examining room. “Jackson,” he said, hiding his own smile at the sudden look of consternation on the doctor’s face. “Commander,” Dr. Jackson murmured, noticing the immaculate condition of his patient with a great deal of shock. After a dumbfounded moment, he met Straker’s eyes and asked blandly, one brow raised, “You were injured in the crash, weren’t you?” Straker momentarily allowed his smile to emerge. “Oh, yes. Quite enough to have incapacitated me, I assure you.” “Indeed?” The commander nodded calmly, as though they were discussing the weather. “A pretty severe concussion, complete with double vision, nausea, bleeding, and a nasty bruise. I’m assuming one or more ribs were broken or at least badly cracked, because breathing was a chore. I know that I had internal injuries, as well as a deep gash on my right leg.” He considered for a moment, then added, “Actually, that wound may have nicked an artery. I can’t be certain, but I do know that it bled like the devil and took the longest to heal.” “I see,” said the doctor, who clearly didn’t. “And can you explain why you no longer have those injuries, Commander?” “Certainly,” Straker answered promptly. “I had help.” Jackson searched that enigmatic face, trying to discern if the commander was serious. Not that Straker was given to joking, but the . . . situation was certainly unique enough to make him wonder. After a moment, he said, “Would you be willing to submit to an examination?” The commander sighed. “Of course, Doctor. I owe you that much, at least, don’t I?” Jackson wisely did not answer that sarcastic question. * * * Several times during the checkup, the doctor frowned as he examined his patient. Normally, Straker would have peppered him with questions, his aversion to submitting to the indignity of a physical exam forcing him to try and retain some sense of control. But this time, the commander resisted the desire to speak, well aware that the doctor was out of his element and trying to establish a measure of control himself. It wasn’t until the exam was finished and the doctor was removing his stethoscope that Jackson even met Straker’s eyes. “Well, Commander,” he said as calmly as possible. “It appears that you did indeed have some ‘help’ in your recovery. In fact, I see no sign that you were ever injured. How was that accomplished in the limited time frame of one night?” Straker grimaced slightly. “I am well aware that my injuries would have kept me in the hospital for at least a week, Doctor.” “Oh, at least that long,” agreed the doctor blandly. He didn’t bother to add that such a time frame was assuming that the commander survived his injuries. He knew the commander had to have been aware of the seriousness of his situation without being reminded. “Would you mind explaining why such a stay is not necessary?” “That may take a while. First, however, I wanted to ask you something.” “Alright.” “Do you remember just over a month ago, when we spoke about the problem with the leak in our R&D department?” “Yes.” Straker nodded. “Yes.” Dr. Jackson stared at him in confusion for a moment before understanding. “Ah! And you wish to ascertain that neither of us is under alien control before you speak any further on the subject of your recovery.” “Exactly.” The commander smiled wryly. “I’m sure the isolation chamber was already planned as a part of my examination, wasn’t it?” “Definitely,” agreed the doctor. * * * For a moment after the lights in the tiny room went out, Straker had to fight an overwhelming need to shudder, because the foetid smell of the cave immediately came back to him in the darkness. He was forced to remind himself repeatedly that he was no longer there, but in a small room in HQ. Eventually, the smell faded. But for those endless seconds, the isolation chamber had seemed imbued with that odor of decay and death. Suddenly, a small hand pressed against his fist as it clenched the chair’s armrest. “Nyt?” he whispered in the dark, his terror evaporating with her presence. After a minute or two, he was able to let go of the chair and hold her hand instead. “Thank you,” he breathed, too grateful for her comforting touch to be ashamed that she was aware of his weakness. He had thought that his claustrophobia was no longer a major problem, his ordeal in the wrecked submarine last year having forced him to endure until it abated on its own. But he now realized that this recent crisis had brought him right back to the beginning with the phobia, and it was as if he had never conquered it at all. It was not a pleasant prospect to consider, but he supposed he could not have expected Nyt and her fellow keepers to be able to heal his mind as well as his body in the wake of the crash. When he left the isolation chamber, he found Jackson frowning over the readout. “Trouble?” he asked calmly. The doctor glanced at him and shrugged. “Only the same minor anomaly that occurred last time, Commander, just toward the end. A blip that goes off the chart.” “I see.” Straker smiled softly. “I think I can explain that.” “Oh?” the doctor asked, surprised that the commander was willing to volunteer information. Straker’s smile widened. “But first . . .” “Of course, Commander. My turn.” Jackson headed into the isolation chamber. * * * They did not return to the examining room after the tests were complete, but instead went directly to Dr. Jackson’s office. The doctor poured them both a cup of coffee from his pot, then sat behind his desk while the commander took a chair in front of the desk. Jackson set his cup down after taking a drink, folded his hands on the desktop, and said, “Well, Commander?” Straker held his coffee between his hands and met the doctor’s eyes. “When the incident occurred with the R&D team, I told you I’d had a tip about a possible traitor in our midst. Do you remember?” “Of course.” “You never asked who’d given me the tip.” Jackson’s brow raised. “Since you didn’t offer to tell me that particular detail, I respected your silence. We all have our own particular avenues of information, after all. If I don’t ask you for yours, perhaps you won’t ask me for mine.” Straker grinned. “One thing I like about you, Jackson, is that you always see the big picture.” The doctor’s lips quirked. “Why, thank you, Commander.” After a moment, he sat back, sobering. “I take it that I’m about to learn the identity of your informant and that this person has some bearing on your recent crisis.” “Yes.” The commander took a deep breath. “Her name is Arianythra, and she is a fairy.” The doctor was surprised into a chuckle. “Are you serious?” “Completely.” After a long silence in which the doctor’s eyes never left the commander’s, Jackson asked, “Am I to assume that when you call her a fairy, you are not referring to her sexual proclivities?” “You may.” “I see.” Whatever the doctor had hoped to hear about the commander’s adventure – and he had been fairly certain the story would be incredible – he had not expected something quite so . . . fantastic. True, Straker had somehow managed to survive an alien attack, a car wreck, and extremely serious injuries. True, he had also somehow managed to return to HQ completely unmarked by his trials. But the doctor had hoped for an explanation that at least made sense. Straker said, “Perhaps it would make things easier if I gave her the title that she uses in reference to herself.” Jackson’s brow raised. “Which is?” “She is a keeper of Gaia.” Jackson blinked. A keeper of Gaia. Now, that was a phrase he had heard before. Somewhere. He wasn’t even certain he remembered the reference anymore. He’d have to look it up to refresh his memory. But if his recall was even close to being right, the keepers were female and had been compared to the valkyrie of Norse legend, mostly because they were both winged female creatures. However, instead of worrying their heads over warriors as the valkyrie did, apparently keepers focused on protecting plants and animals. As he met the commander’s calm stare, he wondered where Straker had heard of them – and why he would think including them in his tale would make it more believable? “Commander . . .” “I know what you’re going to say, Doctor, but hear me out.” Straker sat forward in the chair and set his cup on the desk. “It sounds crazy, I admit. But it happened. Do you have another explanation for how I could have survived that attempt on my life?” “Yes, Commander. Actually I do,” Jackson said unexpectedly. “It may not be one you’d like to hear, though.” Straker’s lips thinned. “I see. Occam’s razor and all that. The simplest explanation is most likely the correct one.” Jackson spread his hands. “You know your science.” “I know what happened!” The commander visibly reined in his temper. He’d known this wouldn’t be easy. “Fine. Say what you’re thinking is what occurred. Say the aliens did get their hands on me. Say they did patch me up. Why? Why would they want me strong enough to fight them? And why would they send me back here where you would certainly figure out what they’d done? It makes no sense. In this case, Doctor, the simplest solution isn’t the logical one.” Dr. Jackson’s brow raised sarcastically. “And you’re saying that your story is?” “I had a choice,” Straker said softly. “I could tell my crazy story to Gen. Henderson, who knows me and trusts me – even when I sometimes sound lunatic. Or I could tell you.” Jackson’s head tilted slightly. “Why did you choose me, Commander?” With a sigh, Straker said, “Because I know the general as well as he knows me. And I know how he’d respond to this information.” He shook his head. “That’s not a scenario I want to see enacted. You, on the other hand, at least have an open mind. Your solution to every problem isn’t to immediately blow it up.” “I’m flattered.” “I doubt it,” the commander said waspishly. “However, given practically no choice in the matter, I chose you. If you refuse to listen, I guess I’m stuck in quarantine for the next three months while you try to find some evidence of alien tampering in me. But since your isolation chamber has already proven that I’m not under alien influence, you’ll be setting yourself a hard goal.” “Perhaps,” the doctor replied, steepling his fingers under his chin. “Or perhaps not. If they did somehow tamper with you in the hopes of sending you back to SHADO to destroy it, there is the possibility that they have realized that their previous methods were being recognized and stopped by us. In short, they may have tried something new. Something we have no way to detect yet.” “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Straker’s temper snapped. “You’d rather believe a story that farfetched than accept that I might actually have experienced something extraordinary?” He crossed his arms and glared at the doctor. “And I thought you were open-minded.” “Commander, even you have to accept that it’s not such a farfetched scenario. They have sent someone back to us before.” “Don’t you bring up Craig! Damn it, Jackson! Don’t you dare!” The doctor folded his hands on the desk, his calm a marked contrast to the commander’s heat. “Commander, let’s face facts. There could be a hundred explanations for what happened to you last night, many of them at least marginally plausible. But because the situation ended with you in better health than when you left, I can’t help but be a little suspicious when all you give me is an absurd story of fairies.” “You haven’t even heard it yet,” Straker muttered. “How do you know it’s absurd?” “Commander, be reasonable.” Straker sighed. The thing was, he did understand Jackson’s reservations. Nyt’s intervention, while he was quite grateful for it, was bound to cause certain unfortunate repercussions once the commander returned to his own reality. She’d only been trying to save his life. It wasn’t her fault that she took healing seriously enough to remove all trace of any wound whatsoever. Suddenly, the commander caught what Jackson had said. He asked, “What do you mean, ‘better than when I left’?” Dr. Jackson’s brow raised. “You didn’t notice?” “What?” Straker asked warily. “You have no scars.” The commander frowned. “I know that. I could tell when I took my shower that both the head wound and the leg wound were completely gone. There wasn’t even a red mark to show where either area had been cut in the accident.” Jackson shook his head. “No, Commander. You don’t understand. You have no scars – at all.” Straker gaped at him. The doctor nodded, pleased that he finally comprehended. “Your shoulder has no scar tissue from the bullet wound you received seven months ago. Your back no longer bears the marks of the tissue damage you received when the minister’s car was bombed. Even your appendix scar is missing. Which makes me wonder: if we took x-rays, would we find your appendix back where it hasn’t been for over twenty-eight years?” “I don’t . . . !” The commander was flabbergasted. “Gone?” “Entirely. In fact, if I hadn’t examined your body numerous times over the years, so that I know it well, I would think that you weren’t even the commander at all, but someone else put into his place.”
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