Chapter 4
As planned, Nick Wolfe dropped in by parachute later that night. It was more like early morning, but the storm got worse for a while and the team decided to take no chances and wait for the storm to move on. A BioMek agent met Wolfe near the landing area with a change of clothes, some surveillance equipment, and a modest navy blue sedan so he could fit in. He would fit in well enough. Fifty years ago, the residents of a small town like Healy would notice any stranger and approach with caution and suspicion. These days, locations varied in America, but the culture and behavior were exactly the same. No one looked up from their TCs, or telecommunicators. News, games, sports scores, pornography, and other distractions commanded all the attention of most people. People barely noticed anything in the real world anymore.
Wolfe checked in at an old motel on the outskirts of town, a motel so old it was still called a motel. It was as old fashioned as one could find in the United States. It had two floors and no interior hallway. All doors led out to a sidewalk or a balcony-walkway. Keys were used instead of cards or TC applications. Retinal scans were completely out of the question. If a guest didn’t have a key, they didn’t have access to the room. The doors were heavy wood and the locks were made mostly of steel. They definitely didn’t make them like this anymore. It was old, but more secure than the new hotels, with their hackable security systems, including hackable locks, and wafer-thin doors. Nick Wolfe had broken into enough “modern” hotel rooms to know this was a good spot.
He also liked the convenience of being able to walk right out to his parking spot less than two yards from his door, but just to be on the safe side he usually parked in front of a room on the other side of the hotel and cut through a hallway in the middle of the building where the vending machines were. The ice machine leaked, so the floor was wet between the machine and a drain in the concrete. It also emitted a buzzing sound and made the hallway smell moldy.
All the lights in the hallway were out, which suited Wolfe just fine.
Nick unpacked the briefcase and set up the equipment he was given. It was nothing too flashy, but he had the ability to securely connect onscreen with Tristan Evans, secured satellite access, and a control center set up for a small army of insect-sized drones, whose camera images could be accessed independently or combined for a “big picture” view. He would go out and spread these along the countryside on the way to the crash site, since they also had motion detection and could act as alarms.
Next he unpacked his suitcase. He was disappointed to find clothes instead of more gear and weapons. He had brought his own pistol and an extra clip, and it was a good thing he did: the extra ammunition was for the wrong kind of gun. He found a new leather bomber jacket, some slacks, button-down collared shirts, loafers, a pair of dress socks and a pair of white tube socks. Wolfe understood the importance of fitting in, but he also believed in being ready for action. He threw the dress shoes and socks in the trash can, but changed the rest of the new clothes. His combat boots weren’t noticeable unless one was looking for them.
He rested for a few hours until mid-morning, and then made plans to go out and search the countryside based on Tristan Evans’ intel on where he believed the ship to have landed. Afterward, he would snoop around town and see if anyone heard or saw anything unusual.
The trip to the outer plains was pleasant enough, but mostly fruitless. There was a large hill, which was not visible from the satellite until a few nights ago. Nick was sure this was a part of the ship, but where was the rest of it? He took down a few notes at the site, set up a few tiny motion-activated cameras linked to his TC, hiked around the surrounding area, and went back to town after a few hours.
***
Newton Paxson decided to reconnect with one of his friends from high school. If he was going to carry out his orders from the presence in the ship, he knew he would need some muscle. Maynard Halifax was a big man on campus in high school but, after breaking his ankle in his first year of college, never could run as fast as he used to and was cut from the team. He didn’t have a plan B—all he ever wanted to be was a professional athlete. He had been “regrouping” in his old room at his parents’ house for the last two years, mostly getting stoned and feeling sorry for himself.
Halifax answered his door wearing jeans, cowboy boots, and a black T-shirt that was a little too tight. His unruly reddish hair hung down over his eyes, but he otherwise looked like he was getting ready to meet someone or go into town.
“Hey, Pax. You’re looking good these days. What’s going on?”
“This will sound crazy, but the other night I saw something outside of town. Can I come in?”
“Sure, come on in.” Halifax closed the door behind him and flopped onto the sofa. “So, what did you see?”
“I’m not sure, but I think it may be an alien ship.”
“Come on, man. Who do you think you’re talking to here?”
“Well, I don’t know if it’s an alien ship but it is definitely a spaceship of some kind—though it looked like a small mountain before it embedded itself into the countryside. Now it just looks like a small hill, and I’m convinced most of it is underground. I was able to go inside, and I fell asleep in there for a while. The next thing I know I’m at home and two days have gone by. On top of that, I feel better than I have in years. I’ve lost weight and am more confident than I’ve ever been in my life.”
Paxson immediately wondered if it was wise to mention his mental state to Halifax, but decided it would be okay since he mentioned it to him hoping for a similar outcome for his friend.
He continued, “You know Beverly Beckett?”
“Yeah, you dated her for a while, but she dumped you because you weren’t ambitious enough. Yeesh, why’d you hook up with her again? She wasn’t any fun.”
“No, but I always regretted that we broke up, and the fact that I could have kept it from happening. Whoever her husband is will be a powerful man, and lately I think I can be that man.”
“You don’t sound like much fun either, bro.”
“I’m still the same guy, but I just want to get my life together and try to build something. Lately I don’t think teaching is for me … Anyway, why don’t you come out with me and see for yourself?”
“Aw, man. I’d like to, but Heath is coming by to help me with some college applications. It’s going to take a few hours, at least. Maybe we can do it later this afternoon?”
“College? Are you getting back into playing ball?”
“No, I’m just applying as a regular student. I’m not getting a free ride, but I’ll at least be able to get a job when I get out. You remember Heath, right?”
“Heath Chesterfield? Sure. He was always a stand-up guy—kind of a Boy Scout, now that I think about it. He was always stepping in between members of the football community and those of Nerd Nation. How are you friends with that guy?”
“Aw, cut it out, Pax. He’s a good guy and has been a good friend to me. He helped me out when I broke my ankle. Not with the injury, but in keeping my spirits up.”
“Okay, fair enough. If you want, I’ll wait with you and when he comes by we can ask him if he would like to come too.”
“I think that’s him coming up the driveway now.”
Chapter 5
Nick checked his equipment and waited. Everything was state of the art, BioMek Horizons’ latest and greatest—the last word in surveillance for the next 10 years. He was fairly sure he was in the right area, but after looking around the supposed landing site with none of the normal evidence of a landing or a crash, he started to doubt he was even in the right neighborhood. Fortunately for Wolfe, close was all he had to be. He had a hundred flying drones at his disposal about the size of mosquitoes that he had casually dropped at strategic locations: near the suspected landing site, the highest ground, and at various places along the road to the site. While dormant, only 360-degree motion sensors were active. Once a sensor was set off, the drone would automatically set off an alarm at Nick’s workstat
ion, show him the source of the disturbance, and await instructions, all while recording and feeding video to his tablet. He could have worked with a unit the size of a wristwatch, but that meant he would also have to have special glasses or a cybernetic modification so he could see the miniscule images. No, Nick Wolfe was a little more old fashioned than that. He liked to have it all laid out in front of him whenever possible, and from his hotel room he could see everything.
For most of the day there wasn’t much activity. Wolfe was a little surprised there wasn’t more activity from the local farmers, but most of the work was done automatically. There was a fuel truck going in, and at about mid-afternoon there were two trucks coming with supplies, and several delivery drones leaving with grain, and coming back empty. Wolfe stopped counting them at 50, and reset his motion parameters for ground activity from 0 to 10 feet in the air.
He was a little bored and had been hoping to see something out of the ordinary, but even the road vehicles were probably auto-controlled and stuck to their schedules like clockwork. For a short time, he allowed his thoughts to wander to his fallen comrade, Josh Taylor, who had been killed on Pangaea and cloned by Gretchen Brooks, who was also a clone. He knew she was smart enough to know the clone would not necessarily feel the way she and the original Josh Taylor felt about each other. At least not once he realized his memories were implants, and that he was not actually who he thought he was.
But yet she did it anyway. She probably figured she had nothing to lose since her original Josh was already dead … and she got what she wanted: The new Josh seemed to understand her motives and feelings, and embraced Josh’s memories as his own. What else was he going to do at that point? Be content to be a clone with no identity, no purpose, and no mate? Or be Josh Taylor, a trained soldier with survival skills, in good physical condition, with a good woman who loved him? At first he remembered Taylor was something of a charmer when he wanted to be, but how much of that skill or desire was a part of the new Josh Taylor? He shared Taylor’s DNA, and most of his memories, but ultimately had his own identity.
Upon realizing his “memories” were someone else’s, how much weight did they really carry? There’s useful information like how to disarm an improvised plasma bomb, and the muscle memory that comes with being a master of several different martial arts and fighting techniques. On the other hand, there’s information that is essentially useless: memories of another man’s ex-wife and kids. Someone else’s personal life only serves to cloud the water, and probably should be buried. If at all possible, Wolfe supposed it should be completely forgotten.
Wolfe decided that if one had to be a clone, he could do a lot worse than having Josh Taylor’s DNA. He remembered that in his only interaction with Josh’s clone, he had been a little dismissive of him. It was understandable since he was introduced to him in the same moment he realized he had to mourn one of his closest friends. Even so, in a way it felt like he had disrespected Josh himself. Wolfe knew logically this could not be the case, but felt bad about it anyway. He decided when he was done with this job he would take some time off and try to reconnect with the clone of his friend. After all, if someone as hard-hearted as Tristan Evans can embrace his son’s clone as another son, maybe he could accomplish something similar with Josh’s clone.
It was starting to look like this might be a late night, so Wolfe decided to take a short nap and conserve his energy. He knew he would be alerted as soon as the drones picked anything up, so the time was right. He emptied his mind, letting it wander through imaginary places, islands, mountains, jungles, wherever. He had a good memory, and had been around the world to many tranquil locations. Josh Taylor had taught him how to do this when he first joined Green Squad, the mercenary team employed by Tristan Evans. Wolfe’s mental discipline made him a natural at it, and soon he was better at it than Taylor. He could sleep on demand, choosing his desired location as one would browse through a catalogue or a computer file folder. Wolfe didn’t need any mental exercises today; he had been awake for much of the last two days, and fell into a deep sleep.
At about 10:30 p.m. he got an alert from one of his drones, then another, then another. He looked on his screen and saw the pattern of red dots form along the road to the site.
The computer voice, a calm woman’s voice with an English accent said, “Vehicle onscreen.”
Wolfe answered it, “Follow. Stay back 20 meters.”
In the dark, Wolfe knew his tiny drones would not be detected, so there was no need to be overly cautious. The truck was old and beat-up, but it ran well. It looked like it could have been white or gray, except for the door on the passenger’s side, which was an obvious junkyard replacement. It could have been red, black, brown, or maybe navy blue. It was hard to tell in the dark with only moonlight.
There were three men squeezed into the cab of the old pickup, and the engine was very noisy. He’d have to wait until they stopped to hear anything.
Chapter 6
Newton Paxson, Maynard Halifax, and Heath Chesterfield arrived at the site shortly after 11:00 p.m. Chesterfield got out of the truck first. Despite his good physical condition, his body ached after an hour crammed in the bench seat of Paxson’s old pickup. He stretched as he got out and made sure he could stand up straight. At 6 feet, 4 inches, he was the tallest of the three. Even though he hadn’t played a down of football since high school, he was still in good shape. He wore brown leather jacket over a red T-shirt, black jeans, and black high-top sneakers.
Heath Chesterfield looked every bit a grown man at 22 years old, except for a thin moustache, which looked like it belonged on a teenager. Heath’s moustache actually made him look younger than he would have seemed without it. It didn’t matter. He was attractive, with an easy smile, but his brown eyes reflected his burning intensity when the situation was serious.
Intensity was something Heath Chesterfield was never short of. It made him a great running back, but it also got him kicked off the football team in his sophomore year. He had a quick temper, but had been working on it for years. He also had an obsession with superheroes as a boy. He was a different man now, but at times mourned what could have been.
His anger got the best of him during a game. He saw a teammate get a cheap shot from an opposing player after the whistle had blown. No referee seemed to notice, so he took matters into his own hands. He strode up to the offending player and pushed him back a few feet. The opponent took off his helmet as he walked forward. By now players from both sides were involved. One player stepped between the two original combatants. Chesterfield swung for his face and broke his hand on the other player’s forehead. With that, both sides went haywire.
Many parties were guilty, but Heath Chesterfield was at the center and the start of all of it. He was kicked off the team, despite his insistence that he was watching out for his teammate. Heath tried to make the same case to his father, who was profoundly ashamed of his son.
Bernard Chesterfield was an older God-fearing man, and he always enjoyed seeing his son play football. He was disappointed in Heath being dismissed from the team, but more than that, Heath’s father made it clear that he had brought shame to the Chesterfield family with his inability to control himself.
That was the last conversation Bernard Chesterfield had with his son before he died of a heart attack. Heath left the house in the evening to get away from his father’s rebuke, stayed out for a few hours wandering aimlessly, and returned to find his father collapsed on the living room floor. His arm was outstretched toward the old landline phone. He was about a foot away from being able to dial 911, but never made it.
Twice in the same day Heath’s emotions had cost him everything. After a month of mourning and seething anger, Heath resolved to stay in control in every circumstance. As a regular student, he struck unlikely friendships with people who stayed by his side and taught him how to forgive himself and move on with his life.
Maynard Halifax needed Heath right now, and his friend relished the opportun
ity to do for someone what others did for him those years ago. He wanted to be the one who helped Maynard get his life together. As an adult, he learned real friends are worth more than superheroes.
***
“So where are these aliens?” asked Maynard as he crawled gingerly out of the truck.
Newton replied, “I don’t know if they are aliens.”
“You said they had a spaceship.”
“Yeah, but we have spaceships here on Earth too.”
“Maybe you can help me figure it out.”
“If we can find it.”
Heath saw the door appear and open in the side of the rock first. “Over there!”
Newton Paxson walked to the door while the other two stood, frozen. He turned and said derisively, “Don’t be afraid. This is what you came out here to see. It’s safe. Come on!”
The two newcomers started walking slowly toward the rock with the oddly lit, door-shaped opening.
***
Nick Wolfe had seen and heard what he needed. He observed everything from the hotel—it would be about two hours before they came back out. He would make sure to track all three of them to their homes, but for now all he could do was wait.
***
The three young men walked into the cavernous room, oddly lit in shades of blue and ultraviolet.
“Let’s sit down,” offered Newton.
“Is it okay?” asked Maynard.
“Yes, they want us to.”
“How do you know?”
We told him it’s allowed, and now we are telling all of you.
Maynard and Heath looked at each other with widened eyes.
Don’t be afraid. We won’t hurt you. In fact, we can help each other.
“How?” Heath and Maynard’s voices asked in unison.
Without you to take us out of this ship, we can do nothing for ourselves, and nothing for anyone else. We want to help. In exchange, we can make you better ... stronger, smarter, healthier, more powerful … whatever you desire to be. Your friend Newton has already seen some of the benefits. You would like to play football like you did before you were injured. You would like to be made whole.
The God Class: The Third Nick Wolfe Sci Fi Adventure (Nick Wolfe Adventure Series Book 3) Page 2