Bishop led Donatello out of his enclosure. The interior door was locked with multiple deadbolts, and there was a guard posted on the other side, who stepped out of the way when Bishop and Don entered. There was a very short hall, which led to another door, this one locked with all sorts of advanced gadgetry. Bishop used a biometric scanner to open it, and Don followed him into a large corridor that was bustling with people.
Donatello was the unhappy recipient of a number of sidelong glances. He was never comfortable when out in the open. It went against his ninja instincts, as well as the hard-learned lessons of his childhood. To their credit, people seemed more intrigued than outraged or disgusted. Don supposed that you had to have an open mind to work at EPF, and these people certainly wouldn't be any strangers to aliens.
Bishop used another biometric scanner to open one of the many doors along the hallway. Donatello walked in and realized that he was standing in Bishop's office. Bishop began typing on a computer and a large LED display came to life.
"Have a seat anywhere you like," Bishop offered. "This will only take a minute."
Donatello sank into a chair and rubbed his forehead, still suffering from dehydration and the aftereffects of his drugging. Despite this, he kept a wary eye on Bishop.
"Here," Bishop said, pouring a glass of water from a decanter on his desk, "drink this. You must be thirsty."
Donatello frowned but gulped the water down. Then, he turned his attention to the display, which was now showing a variety of charts and graphs.
Bishop looked up from his computer. "Space may appear empty, but nothing could be further from the truth. I'm sure you know that, Donatello."
"I do," Don confirmed.
"X-rays, microwaves, radio waves, all manner of electromagnetic radiation - making sense of it all is no small task," Bishop pondered.
Donatello pinched the area between his eyes. "Enough with the exposition already," he snapped. "What's this all about?"
"This," Bishop replied, as he pointed to one small line amongst thousands of others on one of the graphs on his display.
Donatello squinted, as though that would magically make sense of what he was seeing. "What is it?" he asked.
"I don't know, but it doesn't appear to be of natural origin." Bishop paused for dramatic effect, "And, it's moving."
"Moving?" Don repeated in disbelief. "In Earth's direction?"
"Why else would I be showing you this? It wouldn't be of much threat to earth if it was moving away from us now, would it?" Bishop smirked.
"Spare me the sarcasm. If it's not natural, it's likely capable of changing directions. But what makes you so sure that it's not natural anyway?"
"I never said that I was sure it's not natural. I said that it doesn't appear to be natural. Look at the pattern, Donatello." Bishop pecked at his keyboard and all the other lines disappeared, just as the one they were interested in stretched out. Don could see that there was an obvious pattern.
"It could still be natural, though," Don argued. If a radioactive comet is rotating, or if this signal is emanating from something in orbit around a larger body, we would see something similar."
"I know," Bishop said. "It's intriguing, isn't it?"
"Yes," Don reluctantly agreed. "Do you know where it's coming from?"
"I have an educated guess, but not a certain answer. That's part of what I want you to find out," Bishop explained.
Donatello put a hand on his chest. "Me?"
"You wanted to know why I brought you here, Donatello. This is why. This anomaly appears to be coming from near the Triceraton homeworld. My sources claim that Zanramon has regained control over the Triceraton empire and that he's out for revenge. I think that it's all tied together."
Don gasped. This was one of his worst nightmares. "How could Zanramon have regained power?! What proof do you have that this is true?!"
"Not enough, unfortunately," Bishop mourned. "Intergalactic communication is difficult, and I'm afraid that my spies were murdered shortly after transmitting their distress signal. As you know, Zanramon's methods are not kind."
Suddenly Donatello forgot his own strange circumstances. All he could think about were his alien friends. "Traximus," Donatello moaned. "Have… have you heard about him?"
"He was not one of my spies. I know nothing of his fate," Bishop explained.
Bishop then played the recording of the Triceraton distress signal for Donatello. It was horrifying but offered little detail. A prison break had been staged to free Zanramon. His loyalists poured out of every corner. Murder after murder was perpetrated in his name. A desperate soldier issued a warning to the Alliance and to the Federation. There was a massive blast, and then nothing. Donatello's blood ran cold, but he knew that this could be one of Bishop's tricks.
"I'm no longer receiving audio transmissions, but as I've already shown you, the electromagnetic signature from the Triceraton's little bit of space has been changing. You're more familiar with the Triceraton and their capabilities than anyone. This is very similar to what I saw prior to the last invasion. If they're coming again, we need to know. And who better to help me figure it out than you?"
"You suspect that they're gearing up for another invasion of Earth?!" Donatello reeled in horror. "What did you see before? Show me everything!"
Bishop smiled. He had hooked the turtle, just like he knew he would. "When he was overthrown, Zanramon was embarrassed on an intergalactic scale. Now that he's back in power, he needs to prove his superiority, to make sure that everyone fears him. It's only natural that Earth would be his first stop. This is where it all started to go wrong for him, and he knows that we are defenseless - an easy target. So, where better to reassert his dominance?"
"I… I know. I'd been afraid of this. But how do we know it's real? How do we stop it?" Don begged, his voice faltering.
"By working together. If you agree to join me, Donatello, I will put all of my resources at your disposal. I'll share all of EPF's information. I'll give you access to SETI's full capabilities. And, when we figure out what this thing is, we'll develop the tools that we need to ensure Earth's safety."
"SETI - wow," Donatello whistled. He'd been fascinated by the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence since he was a child. Of course, the search was now essentially over, since some of those 'ETs' had invaded earth. But, the thought of all of those highly-powered satellites at his disposal made his mouth water. He hadn't realized that Bishop was in control of the massive satellite array, but now that he thought about it, it made perfect sense.
"SETI," Bishop repeated, knowing that the turtle was about to fall willingly into his clutches. "So what do you say? Will you help me? I only want to protect Earth after all, but I won't force you to stay. The choice is yours."
"I… I have to talk to the guys," Donatello considered.
"Of course. We can call them right now," Bishop agreed.
"In private," Don emphasized.
"Well, that I can't do. All information into and out of Area 51 is heavily monitored, for obvious reasons."
"Can my brothers come here then?" Donatello asked, weakly.
"No," Bishop declared emphatically. "We already discussed this. They're of no use to me, and I don't trust them. The four of you together are nothing but bad news."
"Well… I…. Do you have my phone?" Donatello figured that he would need to call and explain where he was no matter what happened next - one step at a time.
"You can use one of ours," Bishop offered.
"No, it's not like that," Don explained. "The shell cells are specially designed. It's not like calling 1-800-turtles. The shell cells can only be called from other shell cells."
"I'll have it sent up," Bishop conceded. "But, we'll have to patch it into our system, otherwise the signal won't make it out of the base. There are all sorts of anti-espionage technology here to ensure that our facility is impenetrable to all manner of communications."
"Makes sense," Don agreed. "In the meantime, can you show me the readings from prior to the last invasion?"