by R. D. Brady
Barbara squirmed uncomfortably. But they all knew it was true.
Albert shook his head. “That’s not really germane to the discussion. The discussion is about the security of our bases. We have had security breaches in the past at bases. They have all been handled.”
Martin shook his head. “But now those security breaches could be made public within seconds. If someone posts a photo, a video—it would expose everything. In the past we had the luxury of people having to search out a platform to make their revelations known. That gave us the time to intercept them. Now the platforms are numerous and there is no time delay.”
He scanned the room, knowing each and every person here was well aware of the dangers of cell phones. They were the bane of every law and intelligence agency. “And then how will we explain this to the public? How will we keep the public calm? We all know how the public reacted to the War of the Worlds. And that was only a short fictitious broadcast. What happens when the public realizes we have live specimens in our custody?”
“But moving all of them to one location? That is a huge risk to the projects and the people at the base,” Colonel Juarez said.
Martin shook his head. “No. It’s not. As you well know, everyone at 51 is aware of the risks of their jobs. They have signed away their rights. They were all chosen precisely because they keep their mouths shut, and many have no family to speak of. If something were to go wrong, there will be no tear-soaked pleas for information on TV. No viral videos on YouTube. There will be no demands for accountability. There will be the quiet disappearance of a patriot.”
“And you’re comfortable with that?” Marine Colonel Julie Reardon asked.
Martin’s response held no hesitation, no doubt. “I am. This is the duty we signed up for—to protect this country. And I will do whatever is necessary to accomplish that goal. You are each a member of this committee because you hold that same level of commitment to our goals. This is the next move that must be made. Because if the worst happens and our people are at risk, isn’t it better that it occurs somewhere away from the public? Somewhere where we have the greatest chance of putting down that threat?”
Albert sneered across the table. “But you'll need to convince Heig to make the move. You don’t have that power on your own.”
Martin smiled. “Thank you so much for you concern, Albert. But I don’t think that will be a problem.” He looked around the table. “I call for a vote. All those is in favor of moving all subjects to Area 51, raise their hands.”
Ten hands raised in the air. Albert sat defiantly, his arms across his chest. Barbara nodded. “The motion carries. Project Vault is a go.”
Chapter Eight
Maeve headed down the hall to the lab. She had set Alvie up with his puppy program—an unending video of puppies at play—so he was happy. She needed to think for a minute. Alvie’s episode, whatever it was, had terrified her. In all her years with him, she’d never seen anything like that. It had been a full-blown seizure or had given the appearance of it.
But she’d run an EEG and it provided no indicators of a seizure. So what was it? As she looked back, she realized something had changed about two months ago. One day, Alvie had been staring into space. When she called him, he didn’t respond. She touched his shoulder and he seemed to come back to himself. But he had been reserved that whole afternoon. There’d been a handful of other incidents like that since then.
Are they connected? Are they precursors to what I saw today? Usually Alvie would simply zone out, sometimes with a slight tremor. But today… Good God, what was that?
As she walked down the hall, she realized her arms were shaking. She shoved her hands into her pocket and ducked into the women’s room. She leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths.
She always worried that one day someone would take Alvie away from her. That fear had pushed her to excel in school and even finish her doctorate two years ahead of schedule. She’d crossed every ‘T’ and dotted every ‘I’ to make sure there was never a reason for anyone to even consider removing her from Alvie.
But her work was always overseen. Someone was always looking over her shoulder. She knew her appointment had caused some concern. She was young at twenty-eight to be running a project. But her familiarity with Alvie and her rapport with him had helped seal the deal. She’d made a compelling case that introducing someone new could derail all the progress they had made over the years.
It had taken three weeks for them to agree to appoint her. It had been the most nerve-wracking weeks of her life. Not only was she faced with the prospect of losing Alvie, but she had just lost her mother. One soul-crushing loss was all she was capable of handling at a time, and it took all she had to keep it together.
But that’s in the past. I’ve demonstrated to them I can do this. Whatever that episode was, I’ll find the answer, because no one knows Alvie better than me. Taking a breath, she opened the door and resumed her trip to the lab.
She pulled the vials of Alvie’s blood from her lab coat pocket. She’d taken some of Alvie’s blood to check the neurotransmitter levels and to see if the episode had affected any of his other levels. She handed them to the tech with a request that they be rushed.
She frowned as she thought about the chart she’d made to document his sleep disruptions. They’d begun around the time of his first episode. He had started having what she thought were nightmares. He’d wake up from a deep sleep screaming. Occasionally during the day, he’d pull away and curl into the fetal position, unresponsive.
The incidents would only last a few minutes, but they terrified Maeve. She didn’t know what to do to help him, and afterwards, he would be much quieter than normal. Which might sound weird to say about a being who didn’t talk. But it was as if he moved less, as if he was too tired to do so. She thought it might be his way of coping with the loss of her mom, but she couldn’t be sure. If she was being honest, she really had no idea why he was reacting the way he was.
“Someone looks like they need a break.”
Maeve’s head jolted up and she felt a blush spread across her face. “Hey, Chris.”
Captain Chris Garrigan, United States Air Force, walked over with a smile that made Maeve’s heart pound a little faster, despite all her concerns for Alvie. Six foot five, with broad shoulders and what Maeve had imagined were washboard abs, he tended to drift into her thoughts even when she needed to focus—which was exactly why she had kept him at arm’s length since he had been put in charge of Alvie’s security two years ago. Alvie and only Alive needed to be her focus right now.
“I hear you did Tough Mudder this past weekend,” Chris said.
Maeve looked up at him in surprise. She had specifically not told him because she knew he’d offer to help her train. “How’d you hear that?”
Chris smiled, showing off a row of perfect teeth, his blue eyes staring down at her. “I have my ways. How was it?”
Maeve smiled, thinking about the ten-mile-long obstacle course. She had run the course with three college friends. “It was incredible.”
“Did you take a swim in the mud?”
She shook her head. “Not me. Up and over all the obstacles without fail.”
“That’s my girl.” He paused and nudged his chin down the hall toward the lab. “How’s our friend doing tonight?”
Maeve hesitated. Chris had been on the Air Force base commander’s staff before he’d been handpicked by Colonel John Forrester for the A.L.I.V.E. project. He had top secret clearance as well, but she always felt weird discussing Alvie with anyone. But Chris was one of the few people that Alvie interacted with.
“I don’t know,” she said. “He seems a little down, but I can’t figure out why.”
“Well, I have no doubt you will. No one knows him like you do.”
Maeve smiled. She had needed to hear that.
“Have you two eaten?” Chris asked.
Maeve shook her head.
“How about I join you guys? I’ll br
ing the food.”
Maeve smiled. “That would be great. Thanks.”
Chris turned toward the cafeteria. Disappointment flooded her. He’s not going to ask.
He paused at the door and glanced back at Maeve. Maeve’s toes curled in response.
Chris smiled. “So are we going out this weekend?”
Maeve smiled. “Nope.”
“Next weekend?”
“Nope.
“Maeve, I’ve been asking you out for two months now. Should I stop asking?”
She smiled again. “Nope.”
Chapter Nine
Two months later
Martin sat at a conference table in the office of the Secretary of the Air Force, Wanda Heig.
Wanda flipped through the papers in front of her. Tall with dark hair and a milk chocolate complexion, she was smart, decisive, and formidable. And she was one of the few people in this business Martin actually respected. She was meticulous in her attention to detail, and her work in the intelligence sector made her a person who understood how the world worked—for good and for bad. A fact which the science folks often seemed clueless about.
Wanda continued her inspection of the papers, giving the appearance of making sure she had covered everything. But Martin knew an act when he saw one. She was taking Martin’s measure, looking for any subtle queues that would suggest he was not the man for the position she was looking to fill.
Martin gave her nothing, and he knew the file didn’t either. It was a whitewashed version of his history, only hitting the easily palatable events relevant to this position.
Martin sat on the couch and studied her. Although not military, she had an impressive background in Homeland Security. She’d been one of the founders of Homeland after 9/11 and had quickly and deservedly risen through the ranks there. Her appointment to the Secretary position four years ago had been well received.
Wanda pushed the papers in front of her aside. “So tell me, without any political double speak, why you think you are best suited to run BOSAC.”
BOSAC—the Bureau of Scientific Advancement and Cooperation—was tasked with overseeing the United States government’s most secretive biological counterstrike advancement projects. Over the last seven months, Martin had helped create the agency behind the scenes. But being declared the director, that took a little more push than he could do alone. He had, however, pressured every single contact he had with clout to support his application. Now he just needed to pass this one final test.
“I believe the nature of these projects requires a more careful inspection. They should fall under one agency, not be part of a catalog of projects within another agency.”
Wanda studied him, and Martin made sure to keep her gaze while sitting back, seeming unthreatening.
“And what do you believe is the most critical aspect of these projects?”
“Secrecy.”
Wanda raised an eyebrow. “Secrecy?”
He nodded. “Yes. The American public is not ready to handle what is being created in our labs. And keeping them from knowing any of that is the most critical component in making sure our scientists have what they need to move forward.”
“And how would you ensure this secrecy?”
He met her gaze. “My background has shown me that there are times when violence is necessary, as I’m sure you’re thinking. But it’s also shown me that oftentimes, it is overused.”
“How so?”
“People can be led. Violence should be a last solution and only in dire situations. No, disinformation is the name of the game. Anyone who attempts to break the story of the United States involvement with UFOs should be and will be quickly dealt with through ridicule, through slight of hand, or in some cases with a more final method. But humans are generally sheep, willing to be led along by any ridiculous story.” He smiled, a look he’d been practicing in the mirror. “And apparently they think the US launches a ton of weather balloons, with the amount that sorry excuse is used and believed.”
He saw the acknowledgement in the Secretary’s eyes, the small smile breaking across her lips. He had her.
Wanda nodded and stood, offering her hand. “Congratulations, Martin. You are now the official head of BOSAC.”
Martin stood as well as he shook her hand. “Thank you, Madame Secretary. I appreciate your faith in me.”
“It will take you a few weeks to get up to speed. After that, I look forward to seeing what you can do,”
Martin smiled. Oh, and I can’t wait to show you either.
Chapter Ten
Three months later
The sound of Alvie’s laughter made Maeve smile. He was curled up on his couch, reading a Calvin and Hobbes comic. His eyes were bright, his mouth was turned up, and every once in a while he would let out a little squeal.
It was hard for Maeve to focus on her own work when he was in such a good mood. All she wanted to do was watch him. Alvie let out another laugh, and Maeve couldn’t help but laugh herself. A laugh came from outside Alvie’s room and she caught Chris’s gaze as he stood outside Alvie’s room. He grinned back at her, and then his grin faded.
Maeve’s head whipped back to Alvie as he stared off into space, the book dropping from his hands. Alvie screamed, bringing his hands to the side of his head as he rocked from side to side.
Maeve shoved herself back from the desk and was at his side in a flash. The incident was over by the time she reached him. She made it in time to catch him as he slumped to the floor.
Chris keyed himself into Alvie’s bedroom and kneeled down on Alvie’s other side. “Alvie?”
Maeve gathered Alvie into her lap and rocked him from side to side. “Shh, it’s okay. Shh, I’ve got you.”
Chris crouched down next to her and she looked up into his concerned blue eyes. “What the hell was that?” he asked.
Maeve swallowed, not knowing what to say.
“Maeve, what’s going on? What just happened?”
Maeve looked up into his eyes, feeling all the fear she had shouldered alone these last few months slip out for a moment. “I don’t know.”
Maeve had searched every relevant and irrelevant possibility she could think of, trying to find a cause for Alvie's episodes, but nothing fit. She was beginning to wonder if there was a genetic link, maybe some inherited trait similar to epilepsy or some other medical condition. The human genome had been completely mapped by 2003 and since that time, they had learned an incredible amount about the role of genes in an individual’s behavior. It stood to reason that Alvie’s genome could offer her just as much information.
The problem was, she was not allowed access to it. In fact, all of Alvie’s early history was off-limits to her. And if she asked to do a genetic screening, she would have to justify it. And so far, she had been able to keep Alvie’s incidents to herself. Until today.
But keeping it to herself meant she had no one to discuss the possibilities with. She wanted to speak with Greg about it. With his background in genetics, he’d be a great person to bounce possibilities off of. But that wasn’t an option either. In fact, the only people she could speak to about it had no background in the sciences, and any mention would get written in a report and sent up the chain of command.
“Just help me put him in bed, okay?” Maeve asked quietly.
Chris nodded, carefully lifting Alvie and placing him gently in his bed, pulling the blankets over him. Shaken, Maeve followed them over and sat on the floor next to Alvie’s bed, running her hand over Alvie’s head and back.
“Maeve?”
Maeve read the question in his eyes. She shook her head. “I don’t know, Chris. I don’t know what’s happening.”
“This has happened before.”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Why haven’t you said anything?”
“Because you know what can happen. If I don’t have answers—” Her voice broke off, and she just shook her head.
“You don’t know that, Maeve. They could—”
She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye before it could fall. “The US government does not care about how much I care about Alvie and how much he cares about me. They care about results. And if there’s a problem and I can’t solve it, well, then I’m of no use to them.”
Chris sat on the floor next to her, blowing out a breath. “What do you want me to do?”
“Just don’t tell anybody, okay?”
“Maeve…”
“Please. I just need more time. I’ll figure it out. No one knows him better than me. Please Chris.”
Chris looked into her eyes for a long moment before he nodded. “Okay.”
“Thank you.” And suddenly she felt like crying. She took a shuddering breath.
Chris scooted closer, wrapping his arm around her. “You’re not the only one who cares about him, you know.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, so she just laid her head on his shoulder.
“You’re not alone, Maeve,” he said quietly.
Maeve looked at Alvie, who rested quietly in front of her, knowing it was up to her to find out what was going on with him. She lay a hand on his back. Because I’m all he has.
Chapter Eleven
Alvie slept for an hour and then woke up. Chris had stepped out to do his rounds and Maeve was glad to see him go. She trusted Chris, but he was proving to be more and more of a distraction When he was around she wanted to lean on him and tell him all her worries. But right now, she couldn’t afford that.
Alvie seemed to have recovered from his episode, but his movements were a little more sluggish. Even so, he did extraordinarily well on the remainder of the physical tests. Some were new, most he had seen before. For the older tests he showed improvement in each one, and Maeve knew that when she ran him through the newer tests next week, he would also improve. Alvie’s intelligence included learning physical activities. It was almost as if he had some form of enhanced muscle memory.