Darrell Bain Read online

  "That was Bag. We're going to land in a half hour or so and take part of the trip by ground. Maybe all of it, depending on security. Damn. I wish I dared make some phone calls from here, but I guess it better wait. They might be traced.” His half grin finally came back into place. “I suppose you weren't planning on quite so exciting a voyage, huh?"

  "Not quite,” I admitted, “but damned if I won't be glad to get to wherever you're taking us so I can find out more than I know now."

  "You can include me in that, too,” Carol said. “Is there anything to drink? I could use one."

  "I guess we all can. But only one. I'd rather us stay sharp, just in case."

  I didn't particularly like the sound of that. Instinctively, I reached down under the seat and brought my purse up onto the empty space beside me. I made sure the little S&W was in its easy draw side pocket and not jarred loose during Bag's violent maneuver. It was fine. There wasn't enough space under the seat for it to have moved much. Maybe I was being silly but I left my purse where it was, within easy reach.

  Gene's grin turned a little lopsided. “I think your instincts were sounder than mine when you insisted on bringing your personal weapons with you."

  I shrugged. “Carrying a gun always has made me feel safer, especially after what happened to my parents."

  "Yeah. I lost a friend in that fracas myself. The FBI was on their tail; they were just too late to stop them until the damage had been done.” He was talking over his shoulder as he filled three plastic glasses with ice from the tiny galley adjacent to the baggage compartment. He brought them back.

  "Sorry, the cupboard's about bare,” he said as he offered us a choice of whisky or rum.

  We all took whisky.

  "Are you with the FBI?” I asked as I uncapped the little bottle and poured Jack Daniels Black Label over the ice.

  "Me? Hell, no! I hate bureaucracy and the FBI is steeped in it. They're just now finally catching up with the rest of the world in digital data handling. It was the damned paper shufflers that put them in such a sorry state to begin with when the terrorists and Jihadists and those crazy sons of bitches in the IC became active."

  IC is the acronym for Islamic Confederation. It is already in such common usage that the last dictionary updates added it to their lexicon. Iran is the leader of the pack, with Syria, Jordan and Egypt in their orbit after the financial crash and panic toppled their original governments.

  We still had a tenuous toehold in the Middle East on the rim of the IC, but Congress and a new president had finally gotten their act together on a sensible energy policy. There always had been alternatives to Middle Eastern and South American oil, but environmental pressure groups combined with a craven Congress and weak presidents kept us dependent on outside energy sources for two whole generations after the first oil crisis. Now, though, it wouldn't be long until we could tell the rest of the world to go climb a tree so far as energy was concerned. It was working so well that other manufacturing was beginning to come back to the country as well.

  "Who do you work for, then?” Carol asked.

  "Leave it be,” I told her. “He'll tell us soon enough."

  "That I will,” Gene assured us. “Even if we have to drive the rest of the way, we'll be there tomorrow. Late maybe, but tomorrow."

  I finished my drink but took Gene's advice and didn't ask for more. Whisky is my flavor of ethanol when I have a choice but normally I don't imbibe a lot. I would have then, though.

  * * * *

  We did drive. Or more accurately, we were driven, in a succession of different vehicles. Once we rode in an old van where there was room to stretch out on the carpet on blankets and get a little sleep, but there was no stopping for anything else except bathroom breaks. I never asked why the frequent switch in cars. I just assumed it was a form of security precaution.

  By the time we were in the mountains of what I thought was western Virginia, I was feeling grubby and ill-used. I hadn't been able to brush my teeth but once and was still wearing the same underwear. Only the thought of working with a real, live alien kept my spirits up.

  On the last leg we didn't even have Gene to amuse us with the wild stories he had begun to tell of his travels. Another appointment, he said. Our drivers were laconic and much more interested in making certain we weren't being followed than conversing with us. I doubt they would have told us much anyway.

  I began paying attention to our surroundings as the country became less populated. Then we changed vehicles again and this time the driver blanked our windows. A darkened divider separating the front seats from the back rolled down. It closed us off in a dimly lit, claustrophobia-inducing compartment. For the next hour and a half we rode on twisting, bumpy roads that became progressively worse. It was like a funhouse ride at a carnival—except it wasn't fun at all.

  Carol became nauseated from motion sickness. She stretched out on the seat and lay her head in my lap. I was only marginally better off. The nightmare finally ended just at the point where I was seriously debating how and where to use my little automatic—either on the driver or the car windows.

  We bumped to a stop and waited. A long five minutes later the car began moving again and suddenly, like the universe being recreated, there was light. The windows were transparent again. The driver and his companion reappeared as the divider rolled up and buried itself in a recess. I squinted against the sudden light and realized we were about to enter a tunnel. Carol sat up and looked out too.

  "Where are we?” I asked, but not really expecting to be answered.

  Surprisingly, the man in the front passenger seat turned around and not only spoke, but grinned at us. “Welcome to the Brider Enclave, home of the Cresperian Research and Studies Group. CRS for short and also known as SFREC for Space Force Research Center, but we old timers just call it ‘The Group.’”

  "Cresperian?” I asked, pretending not to have heard the term before to see if he'd open up even more. He did, not even glancing at a supervisor for approval.

  "That's what we call the aliens. It's the nearest we can come to pronouncing their name for themselves. Crispies will do for them. They don't mind."

  "It sounds like you've been here a while."

  "Yup. It was nice to get out for a change. Doesn't happen very often these days. Most folks fly in and take the main entrance, but I understand y'all ran into a little trouble on the way."

  "If you call someone firing a missile at us a little trouble, yes. Yes, we did."

  "Something else new. Goddamn Chinks. Ought to hit them again to teach the fuckers some manners."

  That was a surprise statement, coming from someone obviously oriental speaking to a woman who looked like me. That made him either Vietnamese or Japanese. No other oriental nationals hated the Chinese more than those two if you don't count some of our own village idiots.

  "Vietnamese?” I guessed.

  "Yeah. You?"

  "My father. Mom was Caucasian."

  "My name's Nguyen, but it doesn't matter much. You probably won't see me again unless you leave here.” He held out a pack of chewing gum. “If pressure changes bother you, better take some. We've got a big elevator drop coming up."

  I didn't hesitate. I hate flying for that very reason and my ears still hadn't recovered from the brief ride in the jet the day before.

  Nguyen wasn't kidding. The sedan drove right into the elevator. The doors closed behind us, and a moment later we were dropping into the depths of the earth as fast as a commercial airliner gains altitude when leaving the ground. My ears popped and popped again. I chewed furiously, yawning and swallowing at the same time. Damn, I hate that sensation. It makes my whole head feel like it's stuffed with cotton and sometimes it lasts for days.

  The elevator slowed abruptly, forcing my body into the seat cushion. I barely noticed it for the pain in my ears. It made me wonder how far under the earth we were. I also made a mental note to ask to go out the other way when I left here. Which might be quicker than they th
ought if I didn't find a hot shower, a soft bed and something to eat besides sausage biscuits and hamburgers. I imagine Carol was feeling much the same way.

  This trip hadn't gone at all the way I thought it would, not from the moment I saw that jet fighter streaking by the window and heard the bad guys taking a pot shot at us. Anyway, I wasn't very happy when the elevator doors opened and we drove a short distance on through another tunnel. It was so dimly lit that the car had to use headlights. And then we came to an arched opening and entered a fairyland of bright lights and busy people.

  My eyes opened wide and I could practically feel the rush of my body and mind regaining their customary energy and enthusiasm.

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  CHAPTER FIVE

  We had been riding so long that just getting out of the blasted car and standing on my feet would have been worth a magnum of good champagne and a big filet. And that's exactly what I wanted, as soon as possible. I've never been so glad to get anywhere. Nguyen stopped at the edge of another archway. He turned around in his seat and spoke.

  "This is where I'll be leaving you ladies for now, but perhaps we'll see each other again one day.” He shook both our hands. “Sorry about the rough ride.” He got back into the vehicle and drove away and out of our lives.

  A man and woman had been waiting to greet us. The woman was wearing jeans and a blouse as casually as if they were a uniform. They looked good on her, but every woman that young looks good if they're not overfed. The man had on unpowered army cammie fatigues, making them look a silvery color. He had a Chief Warrant Officer pip sewn on one collar and an emblem I didn't recognize on the other. It looked like a rocket ship. They were the ones who each extended a hand to help us out of the back seat, as if thoroughly understanding how tired and enervated we must be. After the car was out of the way, the male introduced them both.

  "Hi. I'm Kyle Leverson and this is my wife, Jeri. You're Mai from the description, and you must be Carol.” They each took the time to shake hands with firm grips and bright smiles. “We're glad to have you with us, really glad. And General Shelton sends you an apology for the rough trip. We hadn't been expecting trouble from that source."

  "That seems pretty obvious.” I forced myself to smile. “I've never been recruited and shot at by a missile while in an undefended airplane all in the same day. Nor ridden for almost 36 hours with nothing but bathroom breaks. And speaking of..."

  "Come on. We'll take you to your rooms right now,” Jeri said with a sympathetic grin.

  As we walked along a pathway, I was torn between wanting to get acquainted with the couple and gazing at all the activity. We were in a great cavern, supported here and there by wide, solid columns that flared at top and bottom for extra support. Where columns broke up the expanse there were usually people doing something with machinery or instruments, yet it wasn't that noisy. And it was certainly brightly lit, almost like daylight. In fact, the light seemed strange. I couldn't tell where it was coming from. As we passed through this cavern I saw a number of large entrances leading to other areas. Jeri and Kyle were alternating explanations of the activities as we walked. Kyle waved a hand, taking in all of the huge area.

  "Ordinarily, you wouldn't have met us yet, nor seen much of this until later but you came in through an emergency entrance. Beyond those other archways are some alcoves where different kinds of research and development are taking place. Some are closed off but others are pretty well open so long as the people working aren't disturbed. We haven't had time to section everything off for privacy yet. Just the real scary stuff. Here's where we turn off.” He pointed, and led us into a hallway.

  We walked about 30 yards, passing walls painted with murals where science fiction and military art predominated. After that we went by a series of doors on each side of the hallway. Most of them had nameplates attached. Some were single names, others were couples. Some had the same last names while others didn't but almost all the double nameplates had a man and a woman's name. We passed one door bearing two male names and another with two females. There was a third where two males and one female name were attached. Many of them were preceded by rank designations, ranging from army to marine to navy. I didn't see any air force or coast guard.

  It was evident we were in the living quarters and even more evident that over half the residents were either married or cohabiting. It made sense to bring families along when outside contact is restricted but I hoped there were at least a few acceptable single men around the place. Too bad Kyle was not only married but obviously deeply in love with his wife. Jeri reciprocated the attitude. I don't think I've ever seen a couple so obviously taken with each other but still capable of acting casual about it in the company of others.

  It made me envious. Every man I've been involved with has turned out to have major flaws. The most common has been their inability to associate romantically with a woman more intelligent than them, but I'll be damned if I'm going to play the ‘dumb little me’ routine for anyone, not with two doctorate degrees in my pocket. Most men just can't stand it, though. They wind up ignoring your work and bragging about their own accomplishments, no matter how minor. You'd think I would have met a lot of brilliant men in my line of work and so I had. Unfortunately, the most interesting ones were usually either married or such nerds that I couldn't stand to be around them except while on the job.

  All the time we walked, Jeri and Kyle made heroic efforts to put us at ease after the horrendous journey. I liked them both, right from the start.

  Kyle was about six feet tall and well built. He wasn't that good looking but had a strong young face with a hint of Amerindian ancestry showing in his cheekbones.

  Jeri was just short of beautiful, with auburn hair that tumbled in what looked like natural waves past her shoulders. It practically glowed with a healthy sheen and showed little evidence of the mistreatment so many women subject their hair to. She had a good figure as well. Her breasts jounced just a bit beneath the opaque blouse as she walked, evidence of not wearing a bra—and having little need of one.

  Kyle and Jeri both had the kind of strong personalities that practically radiated intelligence and self-confidence, yet carried them off with an abundance of cheerful well being and an interest in their friends and fellow workers.

  Jeri was the more talkative of the two. When I found out later that Kyle was actually shy when not around people he knew well, it took me by surprise. You'd never know it unless you caught him having to deal with strangers when his wife wasn't present. With her, he talked and interacted much more effusively. I found out after starting my job that their attitude set the tone for the whole enclave. Even with the strict security it ended up being a great place to work. It made me wish I had been there at the beginning.

  At the time, I felt a slow burn begin to build towards whoever it was that passed me over when the team was being assembled for this huge underground complex—then sternly told myself to forget it. Besides, I suspected the person responsible had probably been disciplined already. Jeri had a tiny tilt to the corners of her lips as if smiling to herself over my self-admonishment but that was just her natural expression.

  "Here's your rooms,” she announced. She showed us the touch plates that would serve as a key once they had been activated for us. “I knew you were both going to be whupped from that trip so I took the liberty of arranging some snacks and drinks for you. If you could stand a little company while you freshen up, I'll go get them."

  I loved her accent. It was a mixture of Texas and another region of the south I couldn't place but even with the twang it sounded sweet and girlish coming from her elfin, almost beautiful face. It made me wonder where she was from.

  "You bet,” Carol and I chimed together in response to her offer of food and beverage, almost like mind readers. I was badly in need of a drink for the second time in two days and even more in need of water and a toothbrush. I was certain I would be able to stand upwind of them with a lot more confidence after a show
er.

  "Here comes your luggage,” Kyle said.

  I watched and tried not to look as stunned as I felt as a cart skimmed along a few inches above the floor. It stopped by Carol's entrance first and used its robotic arms to neatly deposit her bags, then moved on to leave mine by the doorway. It made a U-turn and went back the way it had come. I made a note to ask how it managed that levitation trick later but there were too many other new things to worry about at the moment.

  "How about if Jeri helps Carol with her luggage then finds the snacks, while I show y'all how to operate the doors from inside and where things are located. Both your rooms are identical and it'll save time.” Kyle spoke with a pure Texas twang.

  We accepted the offer. After keying the touch plates and showing us a few things inside I asked Kyle to give us 20 minutes to shower and change and suggested we all meet in my room afterward. He agreed as if it had already been planned that way. Carol went off to her room with Jeri while Kyle helped bring in my luggage. He grinned, gave a casual wave and suddenly I was alone for the first time in two days.

  * * * *

  For an underground refuge, which is what I took the Brider Enclave to have been originally, the individual suites were much roomier than I would have thought. I had a regular bedroom, a smaller one for guests, a kitchenette already stocked with some of my favorite snack food, an office already equipped with a computer and notebook, and a den, I guess you'd call it. It had a large couch, a smaller one like a love seat and several comfortable, well padded chairs with ottomans or extensions. End tables and coffee tables and a few other pieces of furniture completed the picture.

  I took all of it in without wasting much time on exploring. What I wanted was a shower and fresh clothing. I didn't know it then but the little suite was the type reserved for senior scientists.

  * * * *