Lauren squinted at More. “So why the sudden turnabout?” Neville gave the question an extra moment of consideration. “I have my own code of justice, Miss Stewart.”
“Honor among thieves?” she parried.
“In a manner of speaking. I’d never claim to be bound by the same rules that others might follow. But within my own context, I think I apply my code fairly. It’s something I’ve had to do to survive in a world not of my own making, and I don’t apologize for that. One of my cardinal rules, if you will, is that no one abuses Neville More. The Visitors have done just that.” “So it’s their turn to pay the piper,” Pete concluded. “Exactly. If this all works out according to plan, you get your precious Dr. Donnenfeld back—in one piece, I hope— and I get my required measure of revenge on the Visitors. I believe that sounds fair.”
“Hey, uh, I don’t want to be a wet blanket or anything,” Mitchell said, “but I still don’t trust this creep.”
“Let me put it to you this way, Mitchell, old boy. You let me waltz out that door, and the best that can happen is that Hannah Donnenfeld dies in Diana’s torture chamber. At worst, Diana also gets the information about the oil bacteria before your mentor expires. If we cooperate with each other, that’s your only realistic chance to save her life. Comprendez?”
Mitchell squared his shoulders belligerently. “Okay, what if we go along? Just how the hell are we going to get on to the Mother Ship?”
Neville smiled in crafty confidence. “Just so happens,” he said, buffing his fingernails across his Visitor uniform, “that I know how to circumvent virtually every security code and procedure on that ship. I can get us on and I can get us off.” “That’s a start,” Pete said, “but how do we get Hannah off with us?”
“I’ve got an idea,” Lauren said. “Neville, can you tap into the Mother Ship’s main computers once we’re aboard?” “Sure. What’ve you got in mind?”
“It’s very simple. We don’t remove Hannah Donnenfeld. We remove a generic dead human.”
Noting questioning looks all around, Lauren began to explain. . . .
Chapter 13
Julie Parrish shaded her eyes as she scanned the pale blue sky over the desert outside Los Angeles. Elizabeth Maxwell, the half-Visitor, half-human starchild, stood next to her. Both petite, both blond, both wearing blue jeans and tan safari shirts, they could have passed for sisters.
“There,” Elizabeth said softly.
“I don’t see—”
Elizabeth pointed and Julie followed the sightline. Then she spotted it—a Visitor shuttlecraft, the smaller, lightly armed model, approaching from the northeast. The alien craft came directly toward them, descending swiftly once it dipped over the rim of the canyon in which the pair of California resistance fighters waited. A fully loaded Chevy Blazer wagon was parked with them, and they watched as the whisper-quiet shuttle settled down toward a typically gentle landing.
“You’ve met them before, Julie?”
“Mm-hm. Back during the first war, I had to fly there to use their computers in New York to help create the red dust. And Mike went that one time a couple of months ago.”
“Did you meet Dr. Donnenfeld when you were there?”
Julie smiled at the recollection. “Oh, yeah. She’s quite a lady, Elizabeth. You know, she asked me to come work at Brook Cove after the war.”
“Do you ever wish you had?”
Julie nibbled her upper lip wistfully. “Sometimes. Back then, I thought Mike and I might have something going and that was one of the reasons I stayed around here. But that didn’t exactly work out. And if I’d moved to New York, I wouldn’t have been here when the Visitors came back. And I wouldn’t have had to go through that hell with Nathan Bates and Science Frontiers. But I also wouldn’t have been fighting side by side with you and the rest of our group. If I had to wind up fighting somewhere, I’d just as soon have it be here with you guys.” Elizabeth’s guileless blue eyes were open wide. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. I’d probably be dead by now.”
Julie brushed a strand of hair off the younger woman’s face. “Oh, you’d’ve done fine without me.”
“Uh-uh.” Elizabeth shook her head. “I’m glad you stayed here.”
They retreated a couple of strides as the shuttle’s thrusters kicked up a veil of sandy dust. The engines shut down and the gull-wing hatch in the small vessel’s fuselage lifted. The familiar faces of Lauren Stewart and Peter Forsythe appeared in the opening, and Julie trotted forward to greet them. Elizabeth followed two steps behind. The New Yorkers took turns hugging Julie, then stood back.
“Pete, Lauren, I’d like you to meet Elizabeth Maxwell.” The young woman batted her eyelashes shyly and shook their hands. “I’ve heard a lot about you and the White Christmas group,” she said. “Do you still use that name?” Lauren nodded. “And we’ve heard plenty about you, too.” Julie put a proud arm around Elizabeth’s shoulders. “She’s become a full-fledged resistance fighter in the past few months.”
“Don’t I get an introduction?” said a British-accented voice from just inside the hatchway. Neville More crouched low and jumped down to the ground. He was dressed in Visitor coveralls, while Lauren and Pete wore street clothes.
“I suppose,” Pete replied grudgingly. “Julie, Elizabeth, this is Neville More, the infamous computer expert who got us into this mess.”
“Ah, but I’m going to get you out of it.”
“Too late to stop all the damage your computer viruses have caused all over the country,” Pete countered sharply.
“Peter, Peter,” Lauren cut in, “we don’t have time to argue. Someday, Julie, if we live through this, we’ll tell you the whole story. But we’d better make our trade and get moving.”
“It’s a good thing you’ve got some spare Visitor medical uniforms,” said Pete. “I don’t think our plan would have much chance if we couldn’t pass ourselves off as Visitor docs.” Julie grinned. “Just a little bonus we got from having a fifth-column doctor on our side. I hope the uniforms fit you.” “We’ll manage,” said Lauren. “We got everything you said you needed.”
“Fantastic! We especially need the ammo clips for the Ingram automatics.”
Pete poked Neville in the ribs. “Help me unload the stuff.” Neville tipped his Visitor cap to the women. “Sure thing, mate.” He went back inside the shuttle and Pete followed. “Elizabeth,” Julie said, “go get the truck?”
“Okay.”
Julie and Lauren watched the starchild run over and climb in. “She loves to drive,” Julie said. “When she first reached this size and physical development, she was like a three-year-old in an eighteen-year-old’s body. She was really withdrawn and afraid.”
“Who could blame her?”
Julie nodded. “And then, for a long time, we were all overprotective. That really got to her—she took some crazy chances to prove to us that she could carry her own weight. We got the idea. And those alien powers of hers come in very handy at times.”
Elizabeth parked the four-by-four close to the shuttle and opened the tailgate. Pete and Neville carried cartons directly to the truck, and the women clambered inside the aircraft to help. When the dozen crates were transferred, Elizabeth handed a plastic bag to Lauren.
“Here are the uniforms.”
“Oh, there’s something else.” Julie reached into her shirt pocket. “Here—these are the latest medical codes the Visitors are using.”
“From your friendly fifth columnist?” asked Pete.
“Yeah. He’s a medical student. Nice kid. Name’s Howie. Well, thanks for all the supplies.”
“Our pleasure,” Lauren said. “It must be tough being in a war-zone area. Sometimes, back in the relative safety of New York, we forget what you must be going through.”
Pete snapped his fingers. “Oh, yeah. We threw in a little surprise.”
Julie’s eyebrows arched. “Oh?”
Lauren smirked. “I figured a freedom fighter doesn’t have th
e time to sit around getting fat—looks like you two don’t have to worry about that—so we dug up some chocolates for you.”
“Hallelujah!” Julie crowed, arms uplifted. “Do you know how long it’s been since I tasted chocolate?”
“That’s what we figured,” Lauren laughed. “Indulge.” “We will, believe me!” Julie wrapped Lauren and Pete in heartfelt hugs. “Good luck.”
Neville climbed back into the ship first. Lauren and Pete paused in the open hatch to wave, then ducked inside. The gull-wing came down and the engines emitted an eerie whistle as they came to full power. The shuttlecraft lifted off and headed for Diana’s Mother Ship, hanging in the distance like a storm cloud over the City of Angels.
With Peter’s steady hand at the controls, they approached the giant starship from below. The bulk of the ship blocked out direct sunlight, and in the shadows the docking port yawned like a mouth on the ventral surface of some mythic whale. Circling slowly, Pete steered into a final docking angle.
“Are you sure they’re not going to stop us and kill us right there on the hangar deck?” Pete said to Neville.
“Of course I’m sure,” Neville huffed. “You’re not dealing with an amateur here, Forsythe.”
Pete smiled mirthlessly. “No, just a psychotic turncoat.” “More flattery, eh?”
“Sure thing, mate,” Pete mimicked.
“All right, I’ll go over it one more time for the slow learners among us. When I took this shuttle, I logged in according to all the rules. So it was not stolen—merely borrowed. Besides, with a ship this size and a shorthanded crew stretched in far too many directions, they probably wouldn’t have noticed one little missing craft anyway. Just as an aside, if you resistance chaps do beat the Visitors, their own mismanagement may be what does the trick.”
“Napoleon,” Lauren murmured from her seat behind the cockpit.
Pete glanced over his shoulder. “Wha—-?”
“Napoleon. What Neville was saying. You know, when Napoleon tried to invade Russia. Hitler, too. They wound up in strange territory, with supply lines stretched to the breaking point. Trying to conquer too much with too little.”
“Right you are,” Neville agreed brightly. “Having seen both sides of the coin, so to speak, I’d say you may just outlast the lizards. But that’s about your only hope.”
“If we do outlast ’em,” Pete said smugly, “you’ll be hauled up on treason charges.”
More eased into an ingratiating smile. “Don’t be too hasty with your judgments, Forsythe. You’re not going to be victors tomorrow. Lots could happen between now and the end of this war. If there ever is an end, eh?”
Pete straightened in the pilot’s seat, fingers skipping over the controls without touching them, double-checking important settings. “Okay, folks, here we go. You better be right, Neville, or this could be the shortest rescue attempt on record.”
“Just let me do the talking.”
Cutting back on the throttle, Peter aimed for the landing cross marked on the hangar deck, then set the shuttle down exactly on target.
“Nice work, Forsythe,” Neville mumbled.
With the engines shut down, Neville tripped the switch that raised the hatch. An au nature I Visitor, his oily dark green scales not hidden under any human disguise, stood waiting by the shuttle with a clipboard in hand. He saluted and the Englishman acknowledged with a nod, then took the clipboard. He touched four contact points with a stylus, a different pattern of lights blinking across the electronic board with each one. He handed it back. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Come along, Doctors.” Lauren and Pete followed, now in uniforms matching Neville’s, complete with medical armband, caps, and dark glasses. Neville looked back to the reptilian officer. “Oh, Lieutenant, please leave this shuttle as is. We’re just making a brief stop and then we’ll be going back to the planet surface.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Neville turned smartly, and Pete and Lauren had to move quickly to keep pace with his regimental stride.
“Come along, Doctors,” he repeated, command in his tone.
Pete gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to klop More across the back of the skull. He made a mental note to do it later— after Hannah was back at Brook Cove, safe and secure.
Trying not to gape like a loud-shirted tourist, Pete found it difficult not to glance furtively around. He’d never been aboard a Visitor starship before and he was overwhelmed by the impression of size. He’d been aboard American naval vessels, but despite their expansive dimensions, he’d never lost sight of the fact he was indeed inside a ship. Perhaps it was the narrow corridors and low ceilings.
But the Mother Ship felt more like being inside a huge building—wider hallways, full-size doors. The lighting was somewhat dim—he recalled that from the initial taped tours broadcast on network television in the first days after the Visitors had arrived, back when they were pushing the big lie of friendly contact.
Neville certainly did seem to know his way around. He marched them to an elevator, which he directed by voice command to the sick-bay level. The door slid open to reveal a nearly empty ward, with medical beds lining the side walls. A small computer screen was mounted adjacent to each bed. The two that had Visitor patients in them at the moment displayed body function readouts on their accompanying screens. One of the Visitors was a female with a sharp-featured human face and a green-scaled arm soaking in a pan filled with a bubbling violet solution. The other patient was completely stripped of his human skin casing and was being examined by an attending female with a young human face and dark curly hair. The patient had both legs wrapped in molded pods that must have been casts. Neville raised a hand and stopped at the second pati6nt.
“Nurse, may I see that chart?” He reached out for an electronic clipboard similar to the one he’d signed on the hangar deck. Then he beckoned Lauren and Peter to join him at the bedside. They hesitated, shifting on their feet in discomfort they hoped wasn’t obvious. “Doctors, I’d like you to see this. ” Then to the nurse: “They’re visiting from a field hospital. I just wanted to show them how well we treat major trauma to limbs once injured troops are transferred up here from the planet.”
He patted the nurse on the arm. “Couldn’t do it without the great support we get from our medical staff.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
Neville held the chart up so Pete and Lauren could view it. The display flashed an alphabet soup of Visitor letters, which they regarded seriously as if really reading it. Neville pulled it away and returned it to a bracket at the foot of the bed.
“Thank you, nurse, uh . . .”
“Bridget,” she said, guessing he was fishing for her name.
“Ah, yes, Bridget.” He started to lead his colleagues away, then stopped and spun halfway around. “Oh, one other thing, Bridget. The human prisoner—the old woman, Dr. Donnenfeld? Do you know if she survived her interrogation session?”
“Yes—yes, she did. Barely, from what I hear.”
“Is she in sick bay, then?”
“Yes, Doctor. In the security section—not that she’s in any shape to be escaping.”
Pete and Lauren exchanged quick, worried looks.
“I may take a look in on her,” Neville went on. “I’ve got clearance for that area. Thank you very much, Bridget. And keep up the good work.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
With a crooked finger, the Englishman motioned his fellow imposters to follow.
“That didn’t sound too good,” Pete whispered.
“At least she’s alive,” said Neville.
He led them to the end of the main ward, where a sturdy door stood in their way. Through a small window they could peek in. Hannah Donnenfeld lay motionless on a diagnostic bed, intravenous tubes in her left arm.
“Can you get us in there?” said Lauren.
“That code list will make things much faster. Let me see it. ” Peter pulled the slip of paper from his pocket but wouldn’t let Neville take it. “I’
ll hold on to this—you just read it.” “Peter, Peter ... so suspicious. That list is useless to you without me.”
“Let’s just say it’s my security blanket. Open the door.” More turned to the computer terminal pad mounted in a wall niche, his long fingers hovering above the keys. The Visitor characters on the keyboard were less than gibberish to Pete. “Can you really read that?” he asked.
Neville shrugged. “No more foreign than Russian, and I learned that in two weeks. ” He took one more look at the code list, then tapped out a six-tone entry. The hand-sized screen above the panel flashed red, then purple, finally blue. “That’s their equivalent of our red, yellow, green.”
With that, they heard a whirring, then the clicking of a lock disengaging. Neville gripped the handle and slid the door aside. “One of us has to stand guard out here.”
Lauren pursed her lips. “Well, we’re not going to trust you, and Pete has to examine Hannah. That leaves me. Hurry up, guys.”
At her last word, Pete was already inside the security chamber, leaning over Hannah. Neville waited behind him. “Hannah,” Pete said urgently.
Her eyelids fluttered open, but her expression remained blank, unfocused. Then, with obvious strain, she lifted her right hand off the bed’s metallic covering, made a fist, and gave a weak thumbs-up sign.
Pete grinned down at her, then turned to the life-function monitor screen. “Dammit—I wish I knew what this was saying.”
“Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters. I’d really like to know if moving her is going to kill her.”
“Not moving her is the surest way to kill her, eh, mate?” Pete’s lips tightened into a thin line. Neville’s comment required no reply, and he busied himseif with measuring Hannah’s vitals as best he could. He took her pulse, laid a hand on her forehead to gauge body temperature, bent over to place an ear on her chest, listening for fluid in her lungs, and gingerly touched her limbs and joints to ascertain if anything had been broken.
“Can you hear me, Hannah?” he asked. “Just squeeze my hand if you understand me. Once for yes, twice for no. Don’t try to talk. Understand?”
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