Whispers in the Mind

by Tanya Allan

  Michelle returned to her quarters, had a shower and changed back into her uniform. She then joined the men in the Officers’ Mess, and there was a sudden hush as the tall blonde made her entrance.

  Rumours had been rife about the mysterious female Major who had returned form California with the team, and much speculation had taken place as to her reasons for being here. It was generally accepted that she was a probable suspect for the ‘Avenging Angel’, but even that was doubtful.

  There were about sixteen officers in the Mess, and all stared in admiration at the stunning new arrival. Jim observed the relaxed and unruffled manner in which the girl took to new circumstances. Whether she was nervous at running the gauntlet of so many male eyes he was completely ignorant, she appeared not.

  “Gentlemen. I’m sure that a lot of mention has already been made of our new team member. So it seems down to me to put rumours to bed, and give you some facts.

  “Major Michelle Carter has been assigned to us by Washington as she has valuable experience in areas in which we are lacking. In particular, she had actually had contact with our quarry, and has herself limited ESP. It is felt that her skills may assist us to locate and finally get to the truth of all the whispers that have occurred over the last few decades.

  “The Major is an experienced field officer, having been assigned to various intelligence agencies and organisations over the past few years. She has no history with the Air Force, but her rank is confirmed,” he said.

  The officers understood immediately. The implication was simple: Michelle was a Special Operative assigned to the team after having worked extensively for either the NSA or the CIA. Her rank was due to her special skills, and not for her record within the Air Force.

  Michelle smiled at them all, and accepted a beer in a calm and relaxed manner.

  She worked hard below the surface, easing doubts and suspicions out of various officers’ minds. By the end of the meal, they looked on her as a friend, and she had won them over by force of personality rather than mental persuasion.

  She went to bed, anxious to get an early start, but worried about returning to New Mexico so soon.

  10.

  Sergeant Martin Skye was a fifteen-year Marine. His record was impressive. Both Gulf Wars, Grenada, Columbia and several other areas of conflict that had never really been advertised. His speciality was desert warfare, so he was attached to the Marine Training unit for just that purpose.

  Part Navajo Native American, Martin never let his ancestry be forgotten, as he only felt at home outside, and the further he was from civilisation, the more at home he felt.

  It was therefore with a mixture of relief and curiosity that he took the urgent posting to meet an Air Force Officer in New Mexico at such short notice. He loathed the training camp, even though he did get to spend as much time as he could out in the desert. The problem was he always had to take the trainees with him, and they had no idea as to how to live alongside nature. They were mainly city folk, and were at their most arrogant and stupid when it came to understanding the great outdoors.

  He was a very big man, six foot six, and in his early days in the Marines, he had played football for the Corps. He kept his dark hair very short, with a slight suggestion of a Mohican down the middle. His eyes were so dark brown as to be almost black, and together with his tanned complexion he earned his nickname of ‘Red’.

  A helicopter collected him at 05:00 and took him to another airbase to meet his companion. All he had been told was to be ready to accompany a Special Ops officer on a highly classified mission. He had put his desert camouflaged combat gear and felt the twinge of curiosity. He didn’t even know on which continent he was destined.

  They told him to remain with the Huey, and so he stood and watched as the ground crew refuelled it. It wasn’t to be that far away, he thought to himself.

  He watched as a light plane landed. It taxied over to a stand a few hundred yards away. A tall man alighted, dressed in similar attire as he was, and slung a small pack on his back. He was wearing a floppy camouflaged hat, so Red was unable to see his face from this distance.

  As soon as the stranger started to walk towards him, Red realised that it wasn’t a man. The woman was very tall, but there was nothing mannish about the way she moved, so Red felt the stirrings of very basic feelings deep within him.

  She was one of those rare women who could wear the most unfashionable clothes, and still look as if she should have been on a catwalk. There was something else about this woman that attracted Red. Most women he met were either after a mate, (even just for one evening) or to prove a point. This girl was after neither, yet she exuded sheer freedom, power and exuberance with every movement.

  Red swallowed, licking his lips.

  He had successfully remained single for all his thirty-three years, making the Corps his life. Women were frequent passengers along his ride of life, but they never stayed. He preferred it that way, as it left his life uncomplicated and free.

  As the girl approached, he tried to put an age on her, but had to give up. Her size made it almost impossible, while her flawless beauty transcended all he had ever met in his life.

  To meet someone else who was a similar free spirit was simply awesome.

  His eyes flicked to the oak leaves on her shoulders, so he came to attention and saluted. He saw the humour in her eyes as she returned it, very smartly, he noticed, and then he relaxed.

  “Sergeant Skye,” she said. Her voice was as he had imagined, and despite himself, he grinned at her.

  “Ma’am.”

  This time her smile broke into a grin, and she held out her hand.

  “I’m Michelle, and if you never salute me again when we are alone, it will be too soon,” she said.

  Red shook her hand, discovering her grip firm but somehow retaining the essence of her obvious femininity. She had nothing to prove, and he found he retained her hand for some time.

  She smiled.

  “Are you done?” she said, and Red released her hand abruptly.

  She slung her pack into the Huey.

  “What have you been told?” she asked.

  “Nothing, Ma’am.”

  She looked at him and put her hands on her hips. Then she nodded, crossed her arms, placing her hands on her shoulders, covering her oak leaves.

  “What have you been told?” she repeated.

  “Nothing, ma’…Michelle.”

  He was rewarded with one of those smiles that melted icebergs.

  “Okay, let’s grab a coffee, and I will brief you. I don’t intend to call you Sergeant, so what do I call you?”

  “My given name is Martin, Ma… Michelle. But my close friends call me Red.”

  “Am I a close friend?”

  “I got no problem with that. It’s up to you,” he found himself saying, and instantly regretted it, feeling he had gone too far.

  “Okay, Red. Come on,” she said, turning and heading towards the hangar.

  She just walked into the works bay and helped herself to a coffee, pouring one for Red. No one paid either of them any attention, it was almost as if they were invisible. She went to a table, swept the rubbish onto the end and placed a map of the New Mexico region onto the table.

  “Are you familiar with this area?” she asked, pointing to a specific part.

  He looked carefully at the map.

  “Yes and no. I have been there a couple of times, but I guess it depends on how familiar you want me to be. I can read most deserts like a book.”

  “Okay. What do you know about Operation Trillium?”

  “Nothing at all. I’ve never heard of it.”

  “Good, then that’s hopeful. Operation Trillium is the Classified US operation to locate, identify, and open peaceful communications with alien colonies which are established in remote parts of Earth.”

  He stared at her, but saw she was perfectly serious.

  “Okay,” he said.

  She smiled.

  “You do
n’t believe in them, do you?”

  “No, Ma’am, I don’t.”

  “Well, you see, I do. I’ve been on one of their ships,” she said, as she rolled up the map.

  He was revising his opinion of her when he got the fright of his life.

  <>

  He was watching her, she was not even looking at him, and her lips were around the coffee cup.

  She turned her ice-blue eyes towards him. His mind was less complex than the colonel’s, but his concepts of right and wrong, good and bad were far more clearly defined. He was at heart a much more basic man, the product of his heritage and upbringing in a hostile America. He had risen above the bigoted tormentors of his youth, partly by being bigger, and partly by being better. He was a good man, with high principals and a real sense of honour.

  The Corps was an ideal place for him, and she understood why it had been his home for so long. He was able to gratify his sense of needing to belong, and to be proud of something. He was fiercely loyal to those he was close to, to the point of personal sacrifice on several occasions under fire. She felt suddenly sorry that she had shocked him, but she was determined to prove how important this job was.

  <>

  Red had been afraid a few times in his life, but this time he was terrified.

  Michelle saw his fear.

  “Now, do you believe?” she asked, much to his relief, aloud.

  “Yes Ma’am,” he said, unable to meet those clear blue eyes.

  She smiled at him, but when she spoke, her voice was soft and full of understanding.

  “Red, believe me, I’m not the enemy here. In fact, I don’t even know if there is one, or if there is, or what it looks like. But perhaps if you just hear what I have to say, you will understand a little of what I have gone through.”

  He managed an uncertain smile.

  They were interrupted by the pilot.

  “Major, we’re all fuelled up.”

  “Okay. Come on. I’ll explain on the way,” she said.

  During the hour flight, she told him her story. She didn’t mention anything before the abduction, and left out her previous identity, but she was graphic in her description of the aliens, their craft and their intentions.

  She transmitted the whole story telepathically, so Red became used to hearing her inside his head. When she stopped, he almost cried out, as he felt suddenly alone again, even though she sat opposite him.

  <> he tentatively asked her.

  She smiled and nodded.

  <>

  She nodded again. <> she thought to him.

  <>

  <>

  <>

  <>

  He reddened, so she reached out and gently touched him on the arm.

  <>

  He frowned.

  His mind was racing, on the one hand trying NOT to think what sprung unbidden into his mind, and on the other hand, trying to think clearly of something he wanted her to hear.

  Then her words sunk home.

  She smiled again, but turned and looked out of the window. Her silence was worse than the voice in his head.

  <> his thought was not deliberate, more a reaction, but it was there nonetheless.

  Those wonderful eyes turned back and looked at him.

  <>

  He felt he was intruding, and that he was out of order. She was a sophisticated lady, an officer, with obvious intelligence and culture. He had no right to hope. He was a grunt. He was a Marine.

  <>

  Her thought startled him.

  <>

  <>

  He thought about it and nodded. She held out her hand and they shook.

  <> he thought, and wondered if she could hear.

  <>

  <>

  <> she thought to him, and he looked down as she squeezed his hand, which, yet again, he had not released.

  Some strange chemistry was at work, both recognised it, yet were somehow powerless to identify it, nor guess where it would take them. Michelle felt strangely content, for she trusted this man more than anyone else she had met, even Gordon.

  The chopper landed, so they removed their packs from the aircraft. Both had satellite cell phones, so would be able to communicate wherever they might find themselves. The pick-up time and location were for her to arrange, and that had been left very open.

  They quickly checked through the equipment, and as both had a small tent, Michelle left hers in the chopper, as they did not need two. Red took his MP5 out, but she stopped him.

  “No. Your side arm will be sufficient,” she said, and he noticed she was unarmed.

  “Sorry Michelle, these orders came from a Colonel.”

  She simply looked at him.

  He calmly un-slung it, and placed it into the loadmaster’s hands.

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re the boss.”

  They ran quickly away as the chopper took off, and avoided the mini-dust storm the powerful rotors created in the down-draught.

  They looked at the map.

  “Okay, we’re here,” said Red, pointing at a point on the map. Michelle simply closed her eyes for a second, and then pointed to a position about two inches away, just by what appeared to be close contours on the map.

  “That’s about fifteen miles. Why not get the chopper in closer?”

  “I have my reasons. Ready?”

  “Sure, just make sure you can keep up. It will take us four hours.”

  “Two and a half,” she corrected.

  He looked at her.

  “I could do it in two and a half, but….”

  Her look stopped him in mid sentence.

  “Yes Ma’am,” he said, smiling, took a quick compass bearing, and set off at a very brisk pace.

  She walked alongside him, matching his pace in timing and distance. He found it refreshing to have a woman who was his equal, so much so that he took a deal of strength from her, he didn’t feel responsible, and for some reason he just knew she was more than capable of taking care of herself.

  His major gripe with his recruits was that he had to wet-nurse them all the time, and couldn’t enjoy the desert, as he had to look out for them every step of the way.

  But as they walked, he pointed out things to her. Vegetation, animals and reptiles, birds and insects, all having an interdependence on each other in some way.

  “We used to belong here, but no longer,” he said, somewhat wistfully.

  “We’ve lost the skills and taken ourselves out of the loop,” she said. It wasn’t a question, she really understood. He grinned, upping the pace a notch.

  She calmly matched him, and he was pleased to note she wasn’t even breathing heavily. She had, like him, removed her jacket and was only wearing a white tee shirt underneath. Her breasts were firm and full, and restrained in her sports bra. He was constantly aware of her sexuality, so guiltily kept finding himself drifting off into fantasy.
>
  Her arms swung with an easy relaxed movement. They were tanned to a honey-gold, and her whole physique was outstanding. Never before had he imagined a woman so utterly perfect.

  <> he tentatively thought.

  <>

  He grinned, as she was so natural with it. Here he was conversing telepathically with the most stunning woman in the world, and she was treating it all like a walk in the park.

  <>

  <>

  <>

  He was suddenly embarrassed. His question had been little more than a wishful thought, and in all probability he should never have vocalised it.

  <>

  He grinned and glanced at her. She was watching him, so they both smiled on reaching an understanding, of sorts.

  They managed the trek in two hours and fifteen minutes. Only five times he had to guide her round sand so soft that it was like quicksand, and once he stopped her walking onto a rattler.

  “Okay, so you’ve earned your pay. Thanks,” she said.

  He was amazed, as they never stopped, and no water was consumed, although he drank a few mouthfuls when they finally halted at the foot of a very steep set of cliffs. It was only eleven a.m..

  She stood in the heat, staring at the cliffs. He sat on a rock in the shade, observing her. She showed no signs of fatigue. There was no sweat visible on her tee shirt, yet his was very evident despite the heat being very dry. She took a sip from her canteen.

  “Are you human?” he asked, perfectly serious.

  She turned and looked at him, with that smile just teasing her lips.

  “What do you think?”

  “No peeking?”

  She shook her head.

  “Well, I guess you aren’t an alien. I figure I would know if you were. But I guess in a way you aren’t exactly human either, not like the rest of them. I guess you are kinda super-human.”

  “Them?”

  He grinned, and his white teeth showed up in stark contrast to his dark complexion.