A.L.I.V.E. (The A.L.I.V.E.Series Book 1)

by R. D. Brady

  “An underestimate? Why?”

  “Planets are found by the Kepler space telescope through the subtle dimming of a star’s light from a planet’s crossing in front of it. Larger planets will therefore be more likely to be noticed. Smaller planets may be too small for Kepler to detect. Even so, dozens of the planets we do know about exist in the Goldilocks Zone.”

  “The Goldilocks Zone?”

  “An area of space just the right distance from a sun, making the planet not too hot and not too cold. Just the right temperature to support life. They’ve found other Earth-like planets, some of which are huge. In the Milky Way alone, approximately 160 billion planets are estimated to exist. Of course, much like our solar system, most are believed to be without life. But what are the chances all are?”

  She took a breath. “And thanks to Kepler, there are close to a hundred planets that we believe may be suitable for life. But even then, no one knows what type of life. It could be microbial—which is not exactly what people are thinking about when they mention E.T.s.”

  Chris was quiet for a moment. “How many types do you think are out there?”

  “I don’t know. I think Alvie’s type exists. I’m guessing he’s one of the grays you hear about in alien abduction stories. But even then, there seem to be variations in those descriptions, meaning there could be different types of gray aliens.”

  “So do you think it’s just gray aliens?”

  “No. But they could be as rudimentary in their technology as we are. There could be millions of types but without the technology to either go there or have them come here, we’ll never know.” She smiled. “Or there could just be two.”

  Chris grinned. “So where do you think Alvie’s from?”

  Her dreams popped back into her mind, but Maeve shoved them away, not sure why she’d be thinking about that right now. “I don’t know. Sometimes, he seems so human, you know?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But then when you watch him on the obstacle course or play on the computer you realize exactly how different he is.”

  Chris looked around, making sure the other guard wasn’t close enough to hear. “Have you figured out anything about his episodes? Do you think it’s related to how down he’s been lately?”

  Maeve focused on keeping her breathing even and her face neutral. She was surprised Chris had noticed, but she shouldn’t be. Chris was extremely perceptive. And empathetic. He and Alvie are a lot alike. “No, but he has his ups and downs like anyone else.”

  Chris studied her face for a moment. “You’re sure?”

  Maeve looked up into his eyes and saw the concern there. And she wanted more than anything to tell him her fears about Alvie. But she turned away. “Yup. You haven’t told anyone about the episode, have you?”

  “I told you I wouldn’t. But if he’s having them regularly, you know it’s only matter of time before somebody realizes what’s happening, right?”

  Maeve looked away from him and watched Alvie sitting along the rooftop, his face blissful as he looked up at the night sky.

  She wasn’t nearly as blissful. Because she knew Chris was right. It was only a matter of time. And she was no closer to finding the answers for his episodes now than she had been when they first began.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Tugging on the collar of her suit, Maeve stared at her reflection in the locker room’s mirror. She’d never made it home last night, or more accurately, this morning. She had slept in the lab, figuring it would give her a little extra time to get the presentation together. Greta had swung by her apartment before coming to the base and grabbed Maeve’s presentation suit.

  And no doubt stocked Maeve’s refrigerator with groceries while she was at it. Maeve smiled. Her mom had gotten Greta to promise to look after her as well. After Maeve’s grandmother had passed away, they’d had no other family—it had only been the two of them. So her mom had created an extended family that they could call on, and more important for her mother, that would look after Maeve when she was gone.

  No. No more thinking about Mom. You need to focus, she warned herself.

  Forcing her thoughts to the presentation, she turned to inspect her suit in the mirror. She rarely wore it. She wore scrubs all the time at the base or her regular clothes when off base. Suits were only necessary for the rare meeting. And seeing as she couldn’t publish any of her findings, having a professional wardrobe wasn’t really that necessary.

  She smoothed the black jacket down over the matching skirt. A red blouse underneath and black heels finished the outfit. It was simple and sophisticated, or at least that’s what the sales woman had said when Maeve had bought it.

  Maeve pulled her hair back into a chignon and turned around to glance over her shoulder. Well, I guess this is as good as it gets. She’d put on a little extra make-up today to hopefully hide the dark circles under her eyes and to make her look a little older. Compared to other scientists running projects, she knew she was on the young side.

  Grabbing her notes, she stepped out of the locker room and headed for the elevator.

  A low whistle stopped her.

  Chris grinned. “You sure do clean up nice, Doc.”

  Maeve felt the heat rush into her cheeks. “Thanks.”

  “So now’s the big presentation, huh?”

  Maeve nodded, stepping into the elevator as the door opened. “Yup.”

  “Nervous?” Chris asked as he stepped in next to her.

  “Yup.”

  He hit the button for the third floor. “You’ll do great. Just show them what the rest of us see every day and you’ll have them eating out of the palm of your hand.”

  Maeve glanced over to check if he was joking, but he didn’t look like he was.

  He looked down at her, his blue eyes serious. “It's going to be fine. No one knows him better than you, and no one is better suited for this project than you.”

  Somehow Chris always seemed to know exactly what to say. “Thanks, Chris.”

  The doors opened and they headed down the hall. Maeve paused outside the door to the conference room.

  Chris stopped with her and leaned down. “You’ve got this.”

  Maeve nodded, swallowing her fear and squaring her shoulders. Right. I’ve got this.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Maeve stepped into the conference room, surprised when there was only a technician inside. He stood up by the large screen, fiddling with some wires and glancing at his computer.

  “Um, hey, Gabe, am I in the wrong place?” Maeve asked.

  Gabe looked up, and his glasses slid from the top of his head onto his face. He pushed them back up. “Hey, Maeve. No. It’s just you today. The rest will be linked in.”

  “Okay. Where are they being linked from?”

  “Sorry, can’t tell you that. In fact, you won’t even be able to see them.” He rushed on. “But you will be able to hear them.”

  Well, gee, that’s great. Maeve’s butterflies increased. “Oh, okay.”

  While she didn’t like giving lectures, she liked the idea of giving a lecture in an empty room to faceless individuals even less.

  “But they’ll be able to see me, right?” Maeve asked.

  “Yup.”

  “Well, that’s … fun.”

  Gabe gave a small laugh as he fiddled with the screen and a Department of Defense emblem flashed on. Maeve frowned. The DOD?

  “Okay,” Gabe said as he turned. “We’re good to go. Someone will notify you when you can start. Should only be another minute or two.”

  “Where should I stand?”

  Gabe nudged his chin toward the front of the room where a podium had been placed at the end of the table. “Right there. Camera’s trained on it. Good luck.”

  “Thanks,” Maeve said as Gabe headed for the door. As the door closed behind him, she turned and studied the room. She had pictured a few people in here.

  Okay, no biggie. She headed for the podium. She pulled her papers from her pocket. She
wouldn’t need the notes, but she liked the security of having them. She unfolded them, straightening them out on the podium.

  “Dr. Leander.”

  Maeve’s head jolted up and she looked at the screen. It still had the DOD emblem. “Um, yes?”

  “We’re ready to go when you are.”

  “Yes, of course.” Maeve took a breath, gathering her thoughts for a second before speaking. “My name is Dr. Maeve Leander. I have been the lead scientist for subject #1 of the A.L.I.V.E. Project for three years now, though my knowledge of the subject actually spans over two decades.”

  “How is that possible?” a female cut in.

  Maeve paused, not sure what to say. She had thought everyone would have been briefed on her history with Alvie. She quickly ran through it. She paused but no one said anything.

  “Okay, well, Alvie is approximately twenty-seven years old. He stands at three and a half feet tall and weighs in at thirty-eight pounds. He has no nasal cavity, a larger cranium than a human of a comparable height. In fact, his brain is a third larger than a human’s.”

  “Is he more intelligent?” a male voice cut in. There was a nasal quality to it, and Maeve pictured the speaker as a modern-day Ichabod Crane: tall, dour, pale.

  “That’s difficult to say. He picks up on things quickly. Just yesterday he did a thousand-piece puzzle in under two hours. I helped a little.” She smiled, but she had no way of knowing if anyone smiled back.

  She cleared her throat. “Right, well, due to his physiology, vocal communication is not possible. He has no voice box.”

  “So he can’t communicate?” the woman asked.

  “No, he can’t vocally communicate. He provides non-verbal physical indicators of his wants and needs, and his face is actually very expressive.”

  “What about telepathy? Have you considered that possibility?”

  Maeve forced herself to keep her tone normal as the number 872-AR flashed through her mind again. But she wasn’t ready to mention that. “No, no indications as of yet. His emotions come across clearly but as for his actual thoughts, that has not been confirmed. But he does mature at a slower rate than humans so it’s possible in time he will in fact develop the ability at some point in the future. Even though biologically he is twenty-seven, in terms of maturity he’s closer to thirteen or fourteen.”

  “What about his physical capabilities?”

  Maeve smiled. “Despite his shape, he is surprisingly agile. I’ve run him through obstacle courses to check his reflexes and his physical capabilities and I am always amazed at how fast he is and how well he can maneuver around obstacles. He looks like a child doing parkour really, really well.”

  “His strength?” Ichabod asked.

  “He’s strong but not exceptionally so. But definitely more than one would expect from his physique. His arms are very small, thin, although longer than a human’s proportionally. He also has four fingers rather than five, which means he cannot write well.”

  “But he does write?”

  Maeve nodded. “Yes. He understands English and can write at a college level, maybe even grad school.”

  Silence greeted her response and it was impossible to determine if they were shocked by her words or simply waiting for her to continue.

  “He can write at a college level?” the man asked.

  Shock it is, Maeve thought. “Yes. Like I said earlier, he is smart.”

  “And is he a danger?” the man asked.

  Surprise flashed through her. Had these people not read any of the notes on Alvie? She frowned. “No. He’s never demonstrated any aggression towards anyone. In fact, he’s only demonstrated the opposite—empathetic compassion. He is in a word, sweet.”

  “And what about his sleep disturbances?” the man asked.

  Maeve had known they were going to ask about them. Greta had been on duty during most of those incidents. She struggled to keep her tone neutral. “I believe they are nothing more than nightmares. When he’s awoken, while he is scared, he’s not aggressive. In fact, he’s looking for comfort, assurance.”

  “And what about his neurotransmitter levels? How do you account for that?” Ichabod asked.

  “I—I’m not sure yet. It’s possible he’s experiencing some mild depression. But even that would be natural.”

  “Natural?” the man asked, and even without the face, she could hear the disbelief in his voice.

  “He’s been relatively isolated his entire life. As he matures, he may want to experience more than he currently has been able to. Think of it like a teenager wanting more independence or an inmate serving a life sentence. He needs something to help him adjust as he matures in his environment.”

  “And how are you planning on doing that?” the man asked.

  “I intend to try to increase his experiences—in a controlled setting, of course,” Maeve said.

  “Are you talking about taking him out?” the woman asked.

  “No, of course not. I was actually thinking about beginning an inter-species interaction analysis. The idea would be to begin with pictures of other animals and record his responses. And then, possibly bring in live animals that he would see first through glass and perhaps eventually actually allow him to touch.”

  “And what would the goal of this be?” the woman asked.

  “Alvie is an incredibly empathetic individual. I’ve been wondering if that empathy extends beyond humans. This project would allow us to determine that.”

  And maybe get Alvie a puppy.

  “I see. And what happens if the subject demonstrates aggression towards the other species?” Ichabod asked.

  Doubt it. “Well, that will tell us something too.”

  No one spoke for a long minute, and then the voice that she had heard at the beginning came back on. “Thank you, Dr. Leander. That will be all.”

  “You’re welcome.” Maeve waited until the DOD emblem disappeared. Then she stepped away from the podium with a frown. They seemed awfully concerned about Alvie’s potential aggression. But Alvie had never demonstrated any. Generally when she did these presentations her audience was fascinated by the subject. And while they asked about aggression, they didn’t dwell on it. After all, Alvie was guarded round the clock. He had been his entire life. If he was aggressive and placed anyone at risk, it would be handled immediately. But there had never been a moment of concern.

  She hadn’t been able to recognize the man’s voice, but the female voice had been undeniable—Secretary of the Air Force, Wanda Heig. Maeve had presented to her before. But why all the secrecy now?

  Maeve gathered her notes, the butterflies still flying around in her stomach. She’d thought that after the presentation she’d feel a sense of relief. But that’s not what she felt at all. It felt like something was about to happen. And whatever it was, she didn’t think it was going to be in Alvie’s best interest.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Washington D.C.

  The screen went dark and Martin sat quietly in the guest chair in front of Wanda Heig’s desk, mulling over Dr. Leander’s response. There had been something there. Something she was trying to hide.

  Wanda turned off the screen before returning to her seat behind her desk. She nodded to Martin. “What do you think?”

  Martin took a moment to compose himself before answering. This was the last telecommunication conference they needed to have. So far, they had spoken with every single scientist working for the United States government who was running an A.L.I.V.E. project. But this one was the project that elicited the most emotion from Martin—and that emotion was hate. The former Dr. Leander had been the reason he’d been forced to the sidelines for years.

  He shoved that old anger and resentment aside. In a few days, it wouldn’t matter. Everything would be in place and neither Leander would be worthy of his thoughts.

  As far as he knew, Wanda knew nothing of that particular history, but until he had everything in place, he needed to make sure she didn’t.

  He
put his hand to his chin, pretending to mull over her question. “I think the project is interesting, but too many chances are being taken with these subjects. Wright-Patt is only eighty miles northeast of Dayton. Dayton has a hundred and fifty thousand people. If one of those things were to get out, it would be a bloodbath.”

  “You mean Alvie?” Wanda asked. “What Dr. Leander said about his history is true: he’s never demonstrated any aggression.”

  “But that’s not the case for all of them housed at Wright, is it? The Kecksburg-AG2, the one they call Hank, imagine all the damage it could do in a short time.”

  “True,” Wanda conceded. “But Wright-Patt has a long history of keeping things wrapped up, in fact, they have since the very beginning. Blue Book was housed there. The Foreign Technology Division. All of it has remained secret.”

  “You mean while it was going on. But there have been leaks. The eye of the world has turned toward Wright-Patt. UFO buffs all know about the wreckage from Roswell arriving there, and they even suspect the wreckage from other crashes have been stored there. And some of the Wright-Patt people have talked.”

  Of course, that was at the end of their lives, or they had something released after they died—much to Martin’s annoyance. After all, it was pretty hard to threaten a dead man. But the damage had been done. The worst case was former Wright-Patt secretary, June Crain. In 1997, Crain claimed to have seen not only alien spacecraft but also alien bodies at Wright-Patt back in 1942 and 1953. And due to her job as a stenographer who understood science, she actually had top-secret clearance while on the base, lending her quite a bit of credibility.

  The most infamous individual to make claims, though, had to be former senator for Arizona, Barry Goldwater, who during his political career was the chairman of the U.S. Government’s Senate Intelligence Committee, and the Republican Party’s nominee for President in 1964. From 1974 on, Goldwater spoke about his attempts ten years earlier to access the Blue Room at Wright-Patt and Hanger 18 to see what he believed to be evidence of alien crashes. He was denied, but publicly spoke about his attempts and his strongly held beliefs that there was something at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base.