The large mob of protesters slowly moved out of the way as the limousine returning from the airport moved into the driveway of Daria's house. She looked through the tinted, armored windows and sighed. "They've gotten worse over the last couple weeks."
Eveningsky looked around. "(They are very numerous.)"
Daria felt a sting to see the signs some of them carried:
Traitor
Bug lover
Earth first and only
Forget the stars
Save humanity
We don't need them
National sovereignty, not national capitulation
Disunited Nations
She shook her head. "We have always been a contrary people. On almost any topic, you can find diametrically opposed views. This was not unexpected, but it is still frustrating."
A thrown rock bounced off the window next to Eveningsky. She started and moved away, restrained by her modified seat belt. Federal Marshals supplementing the guards swarmed around the protester.
Daria said to the driver, "Please stop."
He sped up and didn't look back. "Sorry, ma'am. I'm under orders to get both of you out of the area immediately if there is any sign of violence."
She sat back. "You're right. If any kind of mob psychology gets going, showing my face could set off something worse. If only I could talk to them."
Inside the house, Daria glumly looked at her daughter. "I'm sorry, but I can't see an alternative. We need to move to New York. The risk of violence with the crowds outside is increasing. I'm worried about what might happen to the entire area if something serious happens."
"(Concerned for others, as always,)" Eveningsky said in return.
"These people have every right to express their opinions. But my poor neighbors shouldn't have to put up with it on my account. And they certainly should not be put at risk."
"(I will have our Ambassador make preparations for us.)"
"You were supposed to be my guest."
"(I have been, but the situation has changed.)"
Daria nodded and looked around. "I'd hoped to spend more time in this house. Part of me misses it. I lived here for six years. Outside the place in Highland we lived in when I was a child, this is the longest I've lived in one place." After sighing, she said, "I guess I can have the agent prepare to sell it earlier."
Eveningsky held Daria's hand. "(I am sorry, Mother.)"
Daria placed her other hand over Eveningsky's. "I wish Tim were here, instead of staying near the psychiatric hospital."
"(I know I cannot give you the same support he can. But, I am here for you.)"
Tim stood by one of the doctors as Artie gently placed his hand in a shielded box. He looked over at Tim, who nodded reassurance.
After the box emitted a brief hum, the doctor with Artie said, "You can remove your hand now."
He removed his hand and examined it carefully. Confident it was still his, he relaxed.
The doctor next to Tim examined the test results on a compact monitor and whistled. Tim raised one eyebrow and said, "Something interesting?"
"I'm sure of it now. His artificial skin has some kind of radiation absorption capability. The only points lethal radiation can enter his body is through areas not directly covered by this skin: the eyes and inside the principal body orifices. Given a good radiation suit, he could survive for days or weeks under conditions that would give us a lethal dose in under an hour."
Tim whistled. "So, what would somebody want with that?"
"I'd say somebody who needed a way for humans to work in high radiation areas."
"But that severe? I don't even think some of the old underground test sites are that hot."
"Perhaps the intended location isn't on Earth."
Following a gulp of scotch, the seated man said, "At least it was only a rock. Damn fool."
The man with the cigar said, "These private investigators are getting expensive and they can't find all the idiots. But we can't take any chances with the protesters doing something stupid. We already had to arrange an accident for that one extremist with the black market anti-tank launcher."
"We don't need that Morgendorffer woman or her brat made into any more of a hero."
"I think it is about time to implement the first step in our plan to remove their hero status."
"Hmm. After today's rock incident, this will be good timing. I'll have Bruno visit the protestors tomorrow and get a little clumsy."
Tim felt a twinge of frustration at seeing his wife only through a telephone video. "I agree. Your house was nice, but it has become a liability. I'll just have to meet up with you at the Folk Embassy in New York."
"I've missed you."
Tim looked around the institutional blandness of the hospital's visitor quarters. "Hanging around this place, I've really missed you. But, once I get the reports tomorrow, I'll catch a flight to New York and see you tomorrow night."
"I'll like that."
He grinned. "I thought you would."
"And you're going to be heart-broken over it."
He clutched his chest and overacted. "Just shattered."
"The Academy has nothing to worry about."
"Harrumph." Tim straightened his face and became serious. "I wish you could avoid those protestors tomorrow morning. If they're starting to throw things, it could get ugly fast. All it takes is one jerk wanting to use something powerful enough to damage an armored car to cause a lot of casualties."
"Damn. I wish we could just fly over…" Daria looked at Eveningsky across the room. "I have an idea."
"I love it when you get ideas."
"Not that kind."
"Damn."
"I know it'll drive the FAA nuts, but I'm going to have Nest Two brought to the back yard tomorrow morning and we'll fly direct to New York without dealing with Lawndale Municipal."
Tim smiled. "If worse comes to worse, Eveningsky does have diplomatic immunity. Have her give the actual order."
Daria's eyes widened. "I like your thinking. That way we can cut down on the notice time."
"Glad to be of service."
"We need to get things set up; I'll call your cell tomorrow with the details. I love you."
"I love you. Be careful."
"We will. I've had enough people try to kill me in my lifetime. I'm not looking for any more chances."
Bruno Smith surveyed the various protestors that had assembled in front of Mrs. Morgendorffer-O'Neal's house. The group was a cross section of humanity, each person opposed to some aspect of the negotiations: world government, alien influence, feeling of betrayal, demands for isolation, and many more. They were ready to express their outrage at Daria and Eveningsky when they left for their regular, morning commute to the negotiations.
He identified several good candidates. Each was physically small enough for his massive frame to easily nudge in a desired direction and visually would cause great outrage if they were harmed: the elderly couple, the woman with the infant, the man in a wheelchair. All were easy targets.
A faint whistle overhead attracted the crowd's attention. A softly glowing, disc-shaped craft cruised about 100 feet overhead and past the house. It stopped and settled vertically into the back yard. After a couple minutes, it rose again and departed toward the northeast and New York City.
Bruno stepped behind a hedge and opened the sliding cover of a cell phone on his wrist. With practiced ease, he tapped out a text message and hit send. His employers were not going to be happy. He made a rude gesture at the driver of a car trying to get down the street as he crossed it to his old, nondescript gasoline powered clunker. Not happy at all.
Daria looked back through the clear dome of the flyer at her old house. Good-bye. She returned her attention to the videophone in her hand. "Okay, that will work. Both of us packed enough for a couple nights. You have plenty of time to transport the rest of our belongings to the Embassy."
On the small monitor were a Secret Service agent and a Nestheart Guard. The agent said, "Everything is under control. Once your personal effects have been moved, the house will be secured and protected."
"Thanks."
The Guard said, "The Princess's possessions have been assembled and packaged for shipment. We will provide direct visual supervision of all material through the entire process."
"All of you, please be careful."
The agent nodded. "We will, ma'am. That's our job."
"The Guard will always remember your loyalty. We will respect your wishes."
Daria, Tim, Eveningsky, Mr. Campbell, and StoneFastCollector sat before the display monitors of the UN negotiation facility.
Daria stood. "I've invited my husband in for this update to all the negotiation parties. Disturbing information, with direct bearing on these talks, has been recently uncovered."
Mr. Campbell said, "It seems that almost everyone has been busy with some extracurricular activities. Please proceed."
Tim activated one display and said, "First, what my agency contacts were able to decode from Irving Sloane's diary."
1908
March 11
Along with my collaborators, Ellison Grace and Oscar Page, we set off from San Francisco today aboard the steamer Freewind for our arctic expedition. The hold contains all the scientific equipment we could gather together, as well as supplies for the preservation of specimens. We have high hopes for our studies along the coast of Alaska north of Nome.
June 14
The arctic wind causes me to shiver almost all the time. Day and time seem irrelevant up here, above the Arctic Circle. The biting cold matches my mood. To date we have found nothing exciting. We hope greater opportunities will present themselves as we travel along the edge of the pack ice.
June 30
For the last several days, we have seen unusual aurora displays and spotted unusual flashes of light in the sky. Earlier today, an extremely bright, distant flash illuminated the northwestern horizon, followed a few moments later by an orange streak in the sky, accompanied by a loud sound like a single cannon shot. The fiery streak hit the pack ice about a mile away. A distant report could be heard a little later from the direction of the first flash. We ordered the captain to make a safe approach to where the streak hit the ice and to prepare a launch.
The three of us, with several crew members, carefully approached a ruptured metallic cylinder embedded into the ice. Almost like one of the cylinders described in Mr. Wells's book. However, this hardly looked intentional. The presumed bow was crushed. One hundred yards away, the "stern" had torn away and was turned sideways by the impact. Fragments littered the ice all around.
In the smashed bow, nothing could be recognized, apart from some body parts covered with fine, gray scales. Bright red blood flowed from these.
The freed stern was more promising. Though badly damaged, it held a wonderland of strange machinery. The craft had apparently broken apart at the hold and a small, second ship had come free. Oddly, this one looks undamaged from the crash. It is a fifteen-foot long white cone that blended in almost perfectly with the snow it rested on.
We had not had long to examine the area before there was a deep rumble. The bow tilted upward and began to sink through melted and cracked ice. Sailors poking around it bolted away as it rocked higher and disappeared from view.
We quickly checked around the stern section. It too had melted much of the ice and faint sounds of cracking were heard. Taking a risk, all of us began grabbing loose objects and throwing them clear of the wreck. We also found several more gray-scaled beings dead in the wreckage. However, Ellison came upon a survivor. Battered and injured; the creature looked up at him with shiny, black eyes and in supplication, raised arms that each ended in four extremely long fingers.
Squeamish, he grabbed the fingers and pulled the strange being from the wreck. Minutes later, it also crashed through the ice and sunk into the sea depths.
We wrapped the poor soul in blankets and had him taken to the ship, to see if the expedition's doctor could help. Not trusting the condition of the ice, we ordered the salvage collected and the dog teams brought over to pull the cone-like craft to the Freewind.
The wreckage yielded many tantalizing objects, none we could identify. However, we could identify the uncut sapphires in one box. This find alone will set us up for life. Who knows what wonders we can learn from this opportune salvage, or this strange survivor? We've ordered the ship back to San Francisco.
July 12
The being died of his injuries and was given a burial at sea. We were able to begin to understand the very rudiments of his language before his death, but little else. We are certain that this being was from another planet, and that was a space vessel that fell onto the ice. We are uncertain as to whether Venus or Mars is the more likely candidate for its home. The two planets appear to be at war with each other.
August 3
The Freewind arrived in San Francisco last night. We had everything packed into shipping crates and transferred to railcars for transport to Oscar's father's old silver mine in Nevada. He will oversee storage of everything there while Ellison and I go to Lawndale before finding a method to sell the sapphires most profitably, so to equip a laboratory for study of the salvage.
The money will also be needed to pay off the crew of Freewind to keep quiet. If they don't, Oscar knows a few old hands around the mine that don't mind a little dirty work.
Tim stopped the playback. "That should give you an idea. The firm of Grace, Sloane and Page was set up to investigate the salvaged extraterrestrial technology. The Seekers use sapphire for several different, important applications in their equipment. What they would have treated like a box of bolts was worth a considerable fortune. The partners used the proceeds from those gemstones to establish a number of other business interests as a cover and to generate long-term funds. From secondary sources, we have learned that the true mission of the company was quietly passed down father to son, like a dynasty."
Daria wrapped her arms around herself and sat back in her chair. That must be why Angier was so intent on a male heir.
StoneFastCollector stood next and said, "The disc provided was indeed the log of the cruiser Firewing, lost near the end of the war between us and the Folk. Internal data encryptions confirm this. When examined in light of what Mr. O'Neal has presented, the implications are frightening." He pointed to another display, showing the decrypted log in Seeker, Folk, and English.
Ship Log: Cruiser Firewing.
Captain TallCliffProtector Watcher recording: Entry 356
Fortune has graced us. While conducting a survey for enemy deep-space intelligence-gathering installations, we recovered a nearly intact small spacecraft of Other manufacture from the third planet's satellite. It was loaded into the hold for transport to Homeworld.
Ship Log: Cruiser Firewing.
Captain TallCliffProtector Watcher recording: Entry 357
A Folk cruiser attacked while we ascended from the satellite surface. Secondary power systems and the interstellar transmitter have been lost. FTL drive is malfunctioning. We are returning fire as we maneuver to the planet. I hope to induce a polar atmosphere corona to obscure our escape.
Ship Log: Cruiser Firewing.
Captain TallCliffProtector Watcher recording: Entry 358
The atmospheric corona caused the enemy cruiser to lose weapon lock on us. We are using orbital maneuvers to keep the planet between us while we attempt repairs. We are also prepared to induce more corona effects if needed.
Ship Log: Cruiser Firewing.
Captain TallCliffProtector Watcher recording: Entry 359
The Folk cruiser is in retreat after sustaining severe damage. We, in turn, have been critically damaged. The Other ship in the hold was undamaged in the combat. However, our primary reactor containment is failing and we are in a decaying polar orbit with insufficient thrust available to make more than small adjustments. The planet below is inhabited by an early industrial society. We are scanning for uninhabited areas to eject the reactor over. We hope to make an emergency landing after.
Ship Log: Cruiser Firewing.
Captain TallCliffProtector Watcher recording: Entry 360
Reactor successfully ejected. It detonated over a large, sparsely inhabited section of the planet's northern hemisphere. We are now descending, with almost no control, toward the planet's polar ice cap. Landing on a pre-spaceflight planet is a violation of general orders, but I believe attempting to preserve the Other ship is worth the risk. I accept full responsibility for this act. I wish to record my commendation to the crew for remarkable service. All have requested to remain with the ship. I have granted it.
He added. "I also have some additional, relevant information. My government informs me that the supply ship that crashed in the People's Common Era year Nineteen-Forty-Eight had attempted to investigate sensor readings that may be the Firewing's wreckage under the polar ice cap, north of Alaska. This is the incident that resulted in the recovery of a ship and bodies by Investigator O'Neal's agency."
After leaning toward the Seeker, Mr. Campbell asked, "May I recommend we begin a joint recovery operation? It would make a good sign of cooperation between our species."
"I will agree. Hopefully, the remains of the crew may be returned home. Regrettably, at least one we know will not be among them."
"We will need to work directly with the United States government, since it is in their territorial waters. But details can wait until later."
Daria stood. "Thank you. Therefore, we know that Grace, Sloane, and Page have possessed an Other ship and fragments of a Seeker cruiser for almost one-hundred and nine years. We know that they had possession of a Folk lifeboat for seven years."
Daria entered a command to her terminal to show an image of the weapon Artie had used. "This is almost certainly based on Other technology, but was manufactured on Earth. They have clearly made significant progress in reverse-engineering."
Eveningsky activated another monitor, showing test results from Artie's skin. "Based on surveys we have made of nearby colony worlds of the Others, it would appear that his artificial skin was developed to assist People in surviving on some of the radiologically contaminated Other colony worlds. We believe they intend to eventually investigate these worlds that so far nobody else has been able to examine. Do they expect to use our technology to travel there? Or have they have managed to engineer an FTL drive from the sources they have already acquired?"
Tim said, "Either way, we need to find that Other ship. I think when we find it; we will find most of what we need to know."
Daria and Tim worked together in the kitchen of their new apartment near the Folk Embassy. Daria saw him reaching for a bottle of cayenne pepper and lightly slapped his hand. "You're as bad as my father."
"I only wanted a little extra kick to the chili."
She shook her head. "Trust me; this stuff will kick you as well as my boots."
He looked down at them. "Promise?"
He put a finger under his chin and moved it up. "…In a place you will not like, if you add any more pepper to it."
He turned sideways and moved over. "Okay…some cooks get so touchy."
"I don't want my tongue turning black."
"You've said that before. Did it really happen?"
"Well…that's what Dad yelled from the bathroom."
A clear chime brought her attention to a small phone on her belt. Daria opened it and could see Eveningsky in the display. "(Mother, I just received a high security message from Crystalheart. I'm having it decoded now. Could you and Tim please come over?)"
"We'll be there soon." She turned the stove control to low and stirred the chili before replacing the lid. "Could you get our stuff, please? While I set things to simmer."
He kissed her cheek. "On my way."
She finished up and met him in the living room. He handed her a belt and her wallet. "I put in fresh batteries," he said.
Daria put the small wallet in her pocket and attached the belt to her slacks. "Ready?"
Tim touched a button on the buckle of his belt and saw a faint shimmer over his vision. Right after, he saw the same shimmer over his wife as she activated her shield. He smiled. "Looks like we both are."
Eveningsky sat on a worn, comfortable cushion behind her low desk. Tim noticed that she sat with the tip of her conical head resting on fingertips of hands held prayer-like. Like her mother.
Daria sat on a cushion and Tim followed. Eveningsky touched a control and a monitor rose from the table surface. "(Her name is Snowvine. Tim, your agency might recognize her.)"
"She must be the operative at the old listening post we tried to contact."
"(Correct. Crystalheart discovered her when she applied for employment with the palace communication service.)"
Tim looked carefully. "You didn't ask us over just to tell us that."
"(She fled from your people not only to protect the treaty…but because she had been shown a recording of your agents meeting with a Seeker.)"
Daria closed her eyes. "Let me guess: shown to her by somebody with Grace, Sloane and Page."
"(Correct. Six months prior to the agency's attempted contact, she became the first Folk contacted by your species, by operatives from Grace, Sloane and Page. Snowvine was led to believe that there was a clandestine alliance between your planet and the Seekers. This information was transmitted to Nest and Queen Truelimb.)"
"Meaning that Grace, Sloane and Page were the other influence on the Queen Mother that you discovered in your previous investigation," Tim said as he rubbed his forehead. "Damn. They gave Sloane up too easily and I overlooked it."
Daria touched his hand. "All of us did."
Tim dropped his head. "Chambers was an old college friend of Sloane. I bet he was a Bromwell legacy, too." He raised his head. "I wonder how long they have had moles in the agency. Grace, Sloane and Page could have known about our contact with the Seekers from the beginning. From Irving's diary, they knew about the war. If they had moles in the agency, they would also know that each species maintained a listening post. We knew about the Folk listening post in the Fifties. Therefore, they could have known about them for up to that long."
"(Snowvine was ordered to provide them with a complete interstellar communication system.)"
Daria held up a finger with each point. "They were playing the Seekers, the resistance, the Queen Mother, and the Agency against each other."
"(From what we can now tell, the plan to…kill the three of us came from Grace, Sloane and Page.)"
"Oh, my God." Daria looked at the others in shock. "They must still want a war between you and the Seekers."
Eveningsky asked, "(Why?)"
"To weaken the Folk and Seekers while they explore the Other's worlds. Using people provided with the artificial skin."
Tim nodded. "Use that to get a technology edge to carve an empire around Earth, at both species' expense."
"Tim, I think your description of dynasty was closer than you thought."
Eveningsky touched a control to raise a communicator. "(They must intend to seize power on your planet. I'm contacting StoneFastCollector. If they want a war, our ships will be the best opportunity to stage an incident against one and blame the other.)"
Tim squeezed his eyes in frustration. "We can't use the agency any more. Who knows how much they've already been informed about what we've done?"
Eveningsky said, "(You can rest assured of our help. The Seekers do not like to be manipulated. I'm sure they will be more than willing to help.)"
Daria chewed on a thumbnail. "My family and Jane are already being watched. However, I need you to contact the Nestheart Guards at my Lawndale home. We need a favor done, now."
Glowering at the door after hearing the bell, Tom put his glass of bourbon down and went over, yelling, "Who is it!"
A faint monotone, artificial-sounding voice replied, "I have a delivery for Mr. Sloane from the Lady Daria."
Tom frowned and saw nothing looked through the spyglass. He yelled, "Please stand in front of the door so I can see you before I open it."
"I am in front of the door. Your observation aperture is far above my head. I will step back to hopefully be seen."
Tom looked again and saw a Folk standing about ten feet back from his door. Confused, Tom opened it. "Did you say a delivery?"
The Guard walked back to the door and presented a box. "The Lady Daria dispatched a printed message to explain. I will remain to show you the details of operation."
Tom accepted the box and opened it. He immediately read the note inside.
Tom,
Your life could be in danger. There is a good chance your father's former partners know you provided Irving Sloane's diary to us. We have deciphered it, and it was very incriminating. We have also discovered how widespread their influence has been. It is worse than we thought.
The Nestheart Guard who delivered this will explain how to activate and operate the shield generator in the belt. This is a newer model shield that will provide partial protection to a shield-piercing weapon. The Guard will set up a secure perimeter around you, but we want you to have the shield as an added precaution. She will also provide transportation to a safe location if you wish.
I believe Mr. Grace and Mr. Page are capable of killing you or your family without a second thought. Clandestine guards have been sent to protect Elsie and your Mother. Until the coast is clear, please try to limit your travel as much as possible.
Daria
The Guard removed the belt. It looked like black leather with a solid plate buckle. "This model we designed for your species' use. It is longer and stylistically matches your clothing." She pointed to a button concealed in a simple design on the front. "Power on or off."
She rotated the buckle to show the back and removed a small disc. "Please place your finger against the surface." After Tom did so, the Guard replaced the disc. "Will warn of individuals within ninety meters that carry Folk or Seeker technology and are not recognized by the identifier disc."
She removed a flat square concealed within the inside lining of the belt. "Power supply for twenty hours of operation." She pointed to more pouches. "Four replacements."
Next, she opened a small panel on the back of the box and withdrew a power cord. "Adapted to local electrical supply." She pointed to holders inside for batteries. "Will recharge in twenty-five hours."
Finally, she pointed to a small device clipped to the belt. "Short range communication with translation."
Tom looked at the belt for minute. "Please extend my thanks to Daria." He removed his old belt and put the new one on. "I'm glad they were able to use that diary."
Dennis Grace angrily clipped the end of a cigar and lit it. "A diary? How much did they learn?"
Xavier Page took a drink. "The true start of the firm. All of it."
"They will begin to investigate. There go our plans…again. Time to fall back and regroup." He shook his head. "I wish young Thomas had never met that miserable girl." Dennis picked up a phone and hit a button. After a couple moments, he said, "Jason, please prepare the company plane for immediate use. File a flight plan for Vegas. Have our suites at the casino ready. We expect to leave within an hour."
Xavier opened a second phone and dialed. "Bruno. I have a job for you."
From his desk phone at the apartment, Tim looked at a dark-skinned FBI agent and the bustle of others behind him on the display as they searched the offices of Grace, Sloane and Page. He told the agent, "Trust me, I'm not happy that I was right. Any clues to where they went?"
The agent looked at a piece of paper. "They filed a flight plan with the FAA last night for Las Vegas, Nevada. They would have arrived some time early this morning."
"You can bet that they're not in town." Tim thought for a minute. "One of the founders of Grace, Sloane and Page owned a silver mine in Nevada. I'm sure the deed was transferred to some sham company or other. We need to find it."
The agent looked pained. "A lot of those nineteenth century records have not been digitized."
"Yeah, you have to look with Mark One eyeball. But that old mine is our best option."
Bruno pulled a toolbox from the plumber's van he'd just parked along the street and grinned. "He wanted this done messy. I like these jobs; they're so much more satisfying."
He walked toward the driveway of the house and ducked behind a hedge. Bruno set the toolbox down and removed a rod-like weapon, similar to, but larger than, the one Artie had used. He worked controls and licked his lips, whispering, "Maximum power should make a nice bang."
A purple haze flashed over his vision as the shield he was issued absorbed a hit. "Son-of-a-bitch!" He one-arm held the weapon and pointed it toward the house, touching the trigger. The front of the house detonated in a bright, white glare. He turned and jogged back to the van. Several more purple flashes surrounded him as he neared it. A Folk in uniform crouched behind a fire hydrant with a rifle leveled at him.
Bruno grinned and slowed to a walk. "I'm shielded too, you little bug. Go away or I'll blast you through that house with this. Don't get any ideas about shooting the van. I'll just start taking out every house on the street."
The Guard lowered her aim and said through a translator. "Stop your movement and place your weapon on the ground."
Bruno gave a hearty laugh. "How did you bugs get to the stars being this stupid?"
"You were requested." The Guard touched the trigger and a harsh whine filled the air. The shield around Bruno's left shin rippled like a water surface and he fell to the ground, screaming in pain.
The Guard approached with her rifle pointed at Bruno. "I used a low power setting. Full power would have severed your leg instead of breaking it."
Bruno looked back toward the house. Almost the entire front of the house was in ruins. Mission accomplished.
Gritting his teeth against the pain in his leg, he looked at the approaching Guard. "Adios, sucker." Bruno rolled to the side and started to raise his weapon.
With calm precision, the Guard fired again. Both bones in Bruno's lower right arm shattered from the hit, forcing him to drop the weapon.
The Guard kicked the weapon away and looked at the writhing goon. "Deactivate the shield and surrender so we can provide medical attention."
Bruno narrowed his eyes in rage and used his left hand to pull a hand version of the Other weapon from his belt.
The Guard fired again. Bruno bellowed in agony and frustration when his left hand snapped thumbward almost 180 degrees at the wrist, to smack against his forearm. The result was multiple broken bones, torn connective tissue throughout his wrist, and the last weapon knocked far out of reach.
The Guard stood over Bruno. "I am under orders to capture any who attempt to harm Mister Thomas. To avoid further injury, I advise you to stop resisting."
Bruno tried to push himself up, but collapsed flat on his back from the pain. "I can't reach it. You do it."
The Guard said, "A wise choice." More Guards approached with weapons pointed at him. The guard tapped the power button with her foot and stepped back.
When he stayed still, she reached down and removed Bruno's belt. "Shields are a wonderful defense for civilians, but make a warrior careless and inattentive."
She touched a control on the transmitter attached to her belt. "Mister Thomas. The threat has been subdued. My apologies for the damage to your residence. We did not anticipate the assailant having a shield."
Tom Sloane looked around the corner of his ruined home. He said, "I'm not going to complain. I'm still alive."
Daria looked at Helen's deeply worried face on the phone. She looks so much like Grandma Barksdale these days. "I hoping you don't have to use them. But after the attempt on Tom, I don't want to risk it."
"Okay, Sweetie." Helen shook her head and gave a slight smile. "I sometimes worry about this lifestyle you're leading."
Daria gave a light chuckle. "How do you think I feel?"
"Are you sending these belts to Quinn?"
"Yes. Even if Bill had them move on-base at Pensacola NAS, I want her and DJ to have the extra protection. He's at sea, so he should be okay."
"Will she have any of these guards?"
Daria shook her head. "Politically, there is no way we can get a Folk guard posted at a house on a U.S. Navy base. But, we have permission for one to deliver the belts and show her how to use them."
Tim accepted the video call on his cell phone. "O'Neal."
The same FBI he had talked to earlier said, "Mr. O'Neal, we have secured the mine."
He glared at the tiny image in surprise and yelled, "What!"
"It looks to have been abandoned. Whoever was here, they bugged out several hours ago. But, they left this behind." He turned his camera to show a long, hangar-like space.
A group of FBI agents in body armor stared in awe at the gleaming white ship before them. It was rather bullet-shaped, about fifteen feet long, and rested on skid-equipped tricycle landing gear. An access panel rested on the ground and a work stand stood near the open section of hull.
Tim said, "Keep it secure; we need to bring in people who have a better chance to understand this equipment."
"I've told everyone hands off. I'll have the crime scene unit wait for your people, so you can go through things together."
"Good thinking. See you soon."
The agent looked nervous. "Um…how soon?"
"We still need to finish dinner. Give us two hours."
Daria, Tim and Eveningsky met Nest Two at the UN building helipad. Azurelake and Capt. Eaton were waiting for them. The voice of an air traffic controller came from the radio receiver. "There will be hell to pay if you go supersonic over these densely populated areas. You must file an amended flight plan."
Azurelake said through a built-in translator, "We will use the anti-gravity drive to travel vertically to the upper atmosphere. We can then travel at the velocity desired to reach the destination and descend vertically. There will not be a problem of air compression shock waves reaching the surface."
"You can do that?"
"Yes."
"Very well. Plan approved."
Capt. Eaton noticed the three enter. "Welcome aboard."
Daria said, "Thank you, captain."
"Please be seated for immediate takeoff," Azurelake said.
Eaton flipped a switch. "Nest Two requesting immediate takeoff permission."
A voice came over the radio. "Nest Two. Granted."
The disc quickly rose from the building. Eaton grinned and looked back at the passengers. "I hope you can get that treaty signed soon." He waved a hand around the craft. "I have got to get me one of these."
After a suborbital flight, Nest Two landed outside an old silver mine in the Nevada mountains. Minutes after landing, Tim led Daria and Eveningsky out of it. Tim ran his hand along the hull. "We just made an atmospheric reentry and the hull is only about as hot as a car hood in summer. The old shuttles and the new spaceplanes take up to an hour to cool off after reentry. Those are some shields."
Eveningsky looked up and replied, "They have to be."
Daria gently smiled.
The FBI agent in charge approached. "I'm agent Lawton. Welcome to Nevada. This way, please."
Old wooden buildings had fallen from decay around the area. An old rail line extended into the distance. Lawton pointed to it. "The track is in excellent shape, but with the rail tops painted to look like rust. Somebody has gone to a lot of effort to keep this location hidden, even from overhead observation."
Daria asked, "Nobody noticed this in spy satellite images?"
Lawton frowned. "This area was very rarely imaged by the U.S. And for the times it was, the image can't be located. We are checking with other entities that may have some."
They followed the tracks into a wide opening in the mountain. Lawton pointed to the support beams. "Don't worry; those are steel supports with aged-wood facades. Very secure."
After a couple hundred feet, the tunnel opened into a massive, open space. Along one side was the white, cone-like craft. The main cone was about 12 feet across the base and 15 feet long, with a stern dome bulging back about two feet. Except the obvious openings, the surface was smooth, with only a few faint panel lines visible. The room looked to have had the capacity to hold over twenty similar ships.
Eveningsky approached and touched one of the main landing gear struts. "Nobody has ever found one of these anywhere near intact. We've only had educated guesses on the final layout. Has anybody looked inside yet?"
Lawton removed a small device from his pocket and pressed a large button. A hatch appeared on the stern and a ladder extruded down to the ground. "We figured out how to open it, but…nobody's had the guts to go in yet."
"I will."
Lawton held up hand. "Could you put on some gloves, please? The crime scene techs want to check for prints."
Partway up the ladder, Eveningsky looked at him. "My exoskeleton is smooth; we do not have a physical characteristic like your finger prints. There are no external oils or other secretions on my hands; I will not obscure evidence in that way. I will only look and not disturb."
"No prints? That must suck for your police."
"We have other identification methods."
She looked inside the hatch. The ship clearly had two levels; the cockpit occupied the upper. Two side-by-side seats were clearly made for humans. Controls in front of them were labeled in English and included many contemporary human instruments. Behind the seats was about a three-foot wide space with simple sanitary facilities and a small cooking area. Most of the forward part of the upper deck was equipment, as probably was most of the lower deck.
Tim poked his head in. "Looks a lot like the inside of an old Apollo capsule, but with more room."
Eveningsky looked at him. "This ship is an operational duplicate. Based on the Others' ship, but built here."
Tim stepped down the ladder and looked at the open access panel on the ship. Several parts were hanging free on cables and fasteners rested in a metal can. He looked down the long room at numerous work stands, tool boxes and other maintenance supplies. He pointed a latex-gloved hand at the room. "And this isn't the only one. It must have a mechanical problem that couldn't be repaired before the rest of the squadron left."
Lawton stepped back, stunned. "Squadron? Shouldn't we contact the Air Force?"
Daria looked at the craft, and then at the hanger. "Did you ever see the old movie, Independence Day?"
"Yes." Lawton looked at the craft. "Crap."
"You can bet these people won't have convenient computer vulnerability for us to use to shut down their shields."
The seaman read the paperwork and frowned. "Yeah, this looks all well and good, but I'm going to call it in. Sorry for the delay, but I've never seen this level of DOD guest credentials before. The CPO will know what to do."
He stepped back into the guard kiosk and kept an eye on the rental car. Inside the car an Army major was driving and in a modified passenger seat was a Folk, in some kind of uniform.
The major said, "Please, call your superior."
The Nestheart Guard looked at the major and said through his translator, "I hope this does not delay us too long. However, the caution is understandable."
Daria was in one of the mine offices, helping Tim sort through files. She said, "They certainly did a nice job of wiping all their drives. At least they didn't get through the paper trail."
"I've come to expect nothing less. They are skilled."
Daria pulled a file filled with overhead photos of the complex, though rather old. "Tim, we need somebody who can read Russian."
Tim looked at the photos. The captions and accompanying letters were in Cyrillic letters. Dates on the letters were from the sixties.
"It just keeps getting weirder. These must be old Soviet spy satellite imagery."
A crime scene technician pushing a cart said from the hall, "Weird isn't the word for it; look at these puppies."
Three four-foot tall manikins were on the cart. Each looked like a classic 'gray' of UFO legend. The tech continued. "Some first-rate remote control puppetry."
Daria asked, "Where did you find them?"
"A room next to one of the labs. Kind of creepy, like some medical lab or something. We're going to have to bring in some outside help. Some of the freaky stuff in there is way out of our league."
"Stylistically matching our clothing, my foot." Quinn held the belt by the buckle and gave it a queasy look. "I'll have to take Daria's advice and wear it under my clothes. Talk about limiting my options."
DJ bounced into the room wearing a smaller belt on her pink pants. "I like it."
The buzzing from the belts startled both of them. DJ looked around. "Mommy, what's that?"
Quinn immediately put the belt on and pushed the power button. "DJ, turn the belt on like the nice Folk showed you."
She grinned. "Okay." Her vision shimmered briefly as the shield came on. "Wow."
"DJ, now stay still."
The little girl looked up at the change in her mother's voice. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know."
Quinn moved to the door and looked out the spy hole. A plumber's van was parked in the driveway.
Seconds later, two men in solid, dark brown uniforms emerged from the back. One stood next to the van while the second ran toward the front door. Quinn backed away and pressed the emergency button on the belt's communicator.
She and DJ jumped at the sudden crack and white flash that splintered the door. Right after, a man charged in and pointed a rod at them. "Outside, now!" he yelled.
Quinn moved DJ behind her and backed away from the man.
"Stop or I'll shoot!"
She stepped away more. A flash scared her and she felt a push against her chest.
A loud string of vulgarities escaped the man before he yelled, "The bitches have shields! We have to grab them!"
Quinn scooped her arms under DJ's. The shield against shield felt hard and slick, as if there were almost no friction between them. She started to run for the back door.
"Oh, no you don't." The attacker shot the ceiling and brought a pile of plaster, wood and insulation down on top of Quinn and DJ.
Quinn tripped and DJ went sprawling away. The first man dove for DJ as the second ran inside. After a moment to orient himself, he charged at Quinn, grabbing her as she rose to go after the first.
All four struggled for several minutes. Quinn was yelling for DJ to run and the men were threatening them to be quiet. Finally, the men's larger bulk made a difference and both were pinned.
Outside, a pair of humvees drove up. Four military police ran out and took up positions around the house.
The chief petty officer in charge worked the Folk device he had been given by last night's visitor. "This thing says four shields are running. The perps must have them, too."
Two men emerged from the house. The lead one carried a blond child, the second dragged a struggling, red-haired woman.
The CPO reached into his car and removed a bulky launcher with extra rounds. "Time to think outside the box." Holding it up to be seen, he said to the police at the next humvee, "Peters, grab yours."
He sprinted toward the house and Peters followed. The attacker with the child had almost reached the van but the other was on the ground, struggling with the woman.
He quickly judged himself in range and aimed the weapon. An olive-colored projectile flew from the tube and popped open into a large net that forcefully wrapped around the man with the child.
In the confusion, the child pulled free and struggled with the net. The CPO jumped on the attacker, who was fumbling for his weapon. The CPO used his weight to pin the attacker to the ground.
The pinned man yelled, "Go!"
The attacker fighting Quinn looked up in time to see a large net hit his face and wrap around.
"DJ!" Quinn screamed and struggled to get clear of the netting.
The other police swarmed up and pulled Quinn from the net while wrapping it tightly around the attacker. The CPO had already worked handcuffs through the net and cuffed his prisoner.
The smaller and nimble DJ had cleared the net and ran to Quinn, wrapping her arms around her mother's legs.
The CPO rose and went to Quinn, giving her a salute. "Sorry for the disturbance ma'am. We'll take these in for questioning."
Shaking, Quinn looked at him. "Chief, they tried to kill us. He blew a hole in the roof."
"I'll have the victim's care unit here shortly and we'll find you new quarters right away."
Quinn nodded and turned off her belt. "It's okay now, DJ."
The girl turned hers off and hugged Quinn again. "You feel better this way."
Quinn moved them to the doorstep and sat down, pulling DJ onto her lap and cradling her. Slowly, the shock and fear wore off as they watched the police work.
The plumber's van driving down Glen Oaks Drive in Lawndale was stopped by a uniformed Folk holding a rifle. In an amplified voice, she said, "We have weapons to penetrate your shields. Stop and exit the vehicle with your hands held away from you."
Nestheart Guards appeared to each side and behind the van, each holding a rifle.
The two men inside looked at each other and at the small warrior in front of them. The driver grimly frowned and pressed on the accelerator. Just as the van began to move again, a massive shock struck the front of the van and slammed them forward. Fragments of engine burst through into the cab and bounced around, bruising and cutting both men.
They looked at each other again in fear before stepping out with their hands raised.
Daria closed her cell phone with a look of smoldering anger. "They tried to attack Quinn and my parents at the same time."
Tim turned quickly away from the laptop computer he was working at. "Damn! Are they okay?"
Daria nodded. "The police stopped the attackers at Quinn's. Used crowd-control nets to stop them. However, they had gotten in and wrecked Quinn and Bill's house. They're doing a follow-up on how they got onto the base. At my parents, they were a little slower, so the Nestheart had warning and were able to stop them before they reached the house."
"That's good." He pointed to a news page displayed on his browser. "But this isn't. The protests have ratcheted up a lot in the last few hours. There have been several violent outbreaks."
Daria sat down and dropped her head. "Are we doing the right thing? Maybe we aren't ready, as a people, for interstellar contact."
Tim rested a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure we weren't ready. But life didn't give us a choice."
"We've certainly made a mess, haven't we?"
"You know better than that."
She sighed and looked up. "Can't you allow me a little doubt?"
"Sure, as long as you don't try to hold yourself the only one responsible."
She gently smiled. "Take away all my fun."
"Jackpot!" one of the crime scene technicians yelled from an office cubicle in the mine complex.
Lawton and Tim ran to the space to find him dancing a jig in front of a notebook computer. Tim asked, "What did you find?"
The man grinned and pointed to the active screen of the computer. "Somebody was careless and forgot to blank their notebook." He held up a travel case and pulled the insert from the luggage tag. "And they wrote down their passwords where they thought nobody would look."
Lawton good-naturedly slapped the man's back. "Great work."
The tech sat down in the chair. "It'll take me a couple of hours to snoop around and find the goodies. First thing is to copy everything to a flash hard drive and send that out to some of our other experts. I'll give you a holler when I find something."
"Dennis, some of our overseas associates are becoming worried."
Mr. Grace growled from the plain chair in the unadorned bunker both currently occupied, "But they seem to have cooperated in staging attacks to get things heating up."
"They are worried that the attempts on the Morgendorffers and the Tollivers were motivated more by personal reasons than by operational requirements."
Grace scowled more. "We can do both. It still sent a message to Mrs. Morgendorffer-O'Neal."
Xavier Page sat at a nearby chair. "Yes, that they can counter our actions."
Grace smiled. "This could help us. I wouldn't mind them getting a bit complacent."
Xavier said, "I think the problem is that we've been complacent. We've underestimated their preparation and determination each time. Now they have the mine and know about the squadron, since we had to leave number eight behind. Our plan to destroy the Folk cruiser and blame the Seekers is gone. Plus, they must be looking for this place by now. We need time to regroup. It is still months before we can test that experimental cryostasis system. Without that, we can't reach the target planet near Barnard's Star."
"We know they're at the mine. With a little luck, our surprise may just get rid of their irksome presence."
Lawton followed Daria, Eveningsky and Tim out to Nest Two. "So far, we have evidence that they had contacts with a wide range of groups that opposed everything from contact with other species to dismantling the UN."
"So we know that they have friends out there."
"From what the chief engineer on the Nebulachaser said, that craft is a short range vehicle, probably something like a reconnaissance fighter. It could make it to your moon and back. It has a reasonable stealth capability, so you may not be able to detect them without assistance."
Daria looked at Tim. "The Moon?"
He looked back. "Let's hope not."
Eveningsky touched Daria's hand. "We would have detected any activity on your moon prior to the dismantling of the listening post. We followed the progress and observed each of your landings."
Tim smirked. "And you know secret bases don't get built in a couple years."
Daria shook her head as she climbed aboard. "It would have taken them this long to get all the contracts signed."
The co-pilot chimed in. "Welcome to Folk Spaceways Flight Double-Oh-Two. Please make sure your seats are in the upright, locked position and tray tables are properly stowed. Fasten your seatbelts and prepare for immediate departure."
"You are enjoying this assignment way too much, Captain Eaton." Tim laughed and sat down.
Only a couple minutes into the vertical ascent, Azurelake said, "There is a vehicle approaching from near our takeoff location at a rapid speed. I do not think it is of People manufacture."
Eveningsky moved over and looked. "It is one of the Other design ships."
"I've got a bad feeling about this," Daria and Tim said together.
"Princess, do I have permission to prepare weapons?"
"Yes."
Azurelake touched several controls. "Please activate your personal shields and use the safety belts in case we have any fluctuation with the inertia dampers."
Eaton said, "I'd rather have a real seat about now, but when in Rome." He activated his shield, just as everyone else did.
After a sudden look at a panel, Azurelake said, "That was a hard hit. We cannot take many of them."
Daria and Tim looked at each other. They'd felt nothing.
While the pilot worked furiously at the flight controls, Eaton was on the radio. "This is Nest Two. We are under attack by an unknown craft."
The radio reply was, "This is Las Vegas tower. Say again."
"This is Nest Two. We are under attack by an unknown craft."
Azurelake said, "Our shields are badly damaged."
A new voice was on the radio. "Nest Two, this is Nellis Air Force Base tower. We are scrambling an escort. Please turn on a heading directly for us."
Eaton pointed to a navigation control and Azurelake said, "I understand."
Long minutes passed as the two craft dodged and maneuvered over the Nevada landscape. Azurelake was clearly getting more worried as the fight continued.
Daria asked, "How bad is the situation?"
Azurelake said, "Bad. This is a light-duty courier craft, not a fighter. Our weapons had little effect on the other craft. I am making a rapid approach to the requested destination."
Everyone felt a light lurch in the craft. The pilot worked more controls and said, "I will take responsibility for the compression shock wave that strikes the ground, but we have lost the shield."
Another voice came on the radio. "Nest Two, this is Lance One. We have no radar return on your attacker; we will have to engage visually. Does the attacker present an infrared signature?"
Azurelake said, "Only when it takes a weapon hit."
"Roger that. Go straight to Nellis. We'll try to distract it."
"Your weapons will be ineffective."
"I'm aware of that. Have visual. Lance Two, follow me."
Daria held Tim's and Eveningsky's hands tightly as they continued toward the air base.
"I'm hit, punching out!" a new voice called on the radio.
"Lance One to Nellis. We need SAR. Attempting to…"
After a couple moments of static, Azurelake said, "He is gone."
"Nest Two, Nellis tower. You are cleared for direct emergency approach and landing."
The ship shuddered and rolled. Azurelake shook her head. "We will not make it."
Eaton said into the radio, "Nellis, we're going down."
"Roger Nest Two. Search and Rescue preparing to launch."
"We will strike the surface in five…four…three…two…one…"
The disc struck at a shallow angle and skipped up before dropping back down on the desert. It skidded and spun dangerously. Fragments broke away as sand and rocks tore and abraded the lower surface. The disc eventually struck a cluster of rock outcroppings that crushed the front.
Inside the darkened craft, Azurelake pulled a lever and the upper dome was ejected. Eaton scanned the sky and pointed at a white bullet turning toward them in the distant sky. "Get out!"
The three humans and two folk crawled over the edge, dropped to the ground, and ran into the complex of rocks. As the attacker got close, all crouched behind cover.
White flares appeared on and around the wreck, leaving it twisted and smoldering.
The craft slowed and hovered for a moment before moving away. Just as everyone began to relax, it swiftly turned and dove toward them.
Tim yelled, "Scatter and get cover!"
All five ran apart and got behind solid rock. The ship wavered and focused on Eveningsky's location. The rocks around her exploded.
Clutching the medical kit she'd grabbed before leaving Nest Two, Daria ran into the cloud of dust where her daughter had been. "Eveningsky!"
A weak rattle responded. "(Mother?)"
Daria stopped and crawled toward the sound. As more dust settled, she saw Eveningsky on her back amid the rubble. Her blue coverall was torn and blood stained almost the entire front. Daria told her, "Hold on."
Daria pulled Eveningsky under a broad overhang and hopefully out of sight from the air. Daria carefully leaned her daughter against the back wall and opened the med-kit. "Try not to move," she cautioned.
Eveningsky rested her head back. "(Yes, Mother.)"
Daria listened carefully outside. Moments later, another series of shocks hit the rocks, followed by the sound of falling debris.
Daria worried about the amount of pooled blood. "Damn. Please turn off your shield. I've got to stop the bleeding." I hope they don't see us.
Voice weak, Eveningsky turned it off and the held blood splashed on the ground. She said, "(Mother, if I do not live…)"
"Hold still." Daria used shears from the kit to cut away the coverall. Numerous cracks oozed blood from Eveningsky's thorax. Daria began pulling supplies from the kit. She placed gel-lined, stiff bandages over the cracks. They sealed the wound and attached firmly. Their rigidity provided splint-like support to the cracked exoskeleton.
"(Mother, I know I am very seriously injured. Please listen to me.)"
Slightly exasperated, Daria said, "Okay, I'll listen, just don't move around so much."
"(Mother, please have my remains entombed by the pond.)"
Daria busied with more bandages. "The pond?"
"(By the cabin. If you can, near where we got out of the raft.)"
Daria stopped for a moment and looked at her. "I'll remember. But I'm doing everything I can to keep that day some time in the far future."
"(I know. But just in case.)"
"You worry more than I do. Now, be still."
Nearby, Tim crawled among the rocks toward where Azurelake had disappeared amid another burst of weapon fire. The pilot was partially buried by rubble and not moving. He began to dig her out.
Capt. Eaton watched the attacking craft dive down to about a meter off the ground and fly away to the northwest. He yelled back, "Something scared it off."
Xavier closed his cell phone. "Number Eleven reports that Nest Two was shot down. Their weapons only caused partial loss of shielding to our craft."
"Excellent."
"Two intercepting F-22's were shot down with little effort. He reports their weapons ineffective."
"Also excellent, but what about the occupants of Nest Two?"
"Two Folk were strafed with full-power weapons."
"Are they dead?"
"High likelihood. But, he was unable to confirm before leaving at ground level to get back here undetected."
"We need confirmation."
"Agreed. I think we can rely on the news media for that. Their SOS was broadcast in the clear. Everyone knows about it."
"What about the humans on board?"
"Three were initially seen. Only one of them was visible when he left, but all are three probably alive."
"Damn that woman. She must be part cat."
"This should delay the treaty. It will take months to bring in a new representative."
"By that time, we'll have things ready to deal with them."
Daria applied the last of the bandages over her daughter. "Are you still here?"
Eveningsky nodded. "(Yes.)"
"Good, now stay." Daria held both her daughter's hands.
"(I want to.)"
After many minutes of digging around Azurelake, Tim realized he could touch her. No shield. He quickened his pace and pulled the pilot free. Red blood darkened with the mustard colored sand was smeared against her green exoskeleton and gray uniform. Tim gently lifted her head. "Can you hear me?"
Faintly, she said, "(Direct hit. Shield overloaded. Princess safe?)"
"I don't know. Her mother is with her."
When he didn't hear a reply, Tim looked closer. Azurelake was no longer breathing. "Damn."
The faint sound of helicopters reached him. Tim worked his way to where Eaton stood, looking toward the sound. Tim said, "Azurelake's gone."
The captain bowed his head. "She was a great pilot. You three didn't see the maneuvers she pulled off back there."
Tim nodded. "Please flag those choppers down. I'm checking on my wife and daughter."
"Will do, sir." He pulled an emergency flare from his flight suit. "This should call them over." He pointed it upward and pulled the igniter to fire it into the air.
He found Daria crawling out from under the cover. She pushed the kit in front of her and said, "I'm afraid I used up most of the first aid kit. I hope that Azurelake doesn't need much."
Tim shook his head. "She doesn't need any."
Daria sunk back hard. After a moment, she asked, "Is that ship gone?"
"Yes."
Daria looked back toward Eveningsky. "Help me get her out."
"Bad?"
Daria turned and closed her eyes against tears. "Very."
"I heard choppers; let's wait for help."
Daria looked around, the sound registering for the first time. "All right."
Two Blackhawks landed and troops dispersed around the area. Eaton held up his hands and walked out. "Over here."
A lieutenant ran up and saluted. "Sir, anybody need medical care?"
"Probably. Mr. O'Neal is checking on the others."
"I'll call it in." The young officer tapped the microphone control on the cheek plate of his helmet and the throat mike transmitted, "Medivac cleared to land. Possible casualties."
A third Blackhawk approached, bearing a red cross on the sides and belly. It was inches off the ground when a stretcher party and medic vaulted off the flight deck and ran toward the lieutenant and Eaton. The latter pointed toward where Tim had gone. "Up there."
Without pausing, they continued among the rocks. Tim yelled, "Over here!"
As they got up to the overhang, Tim crouched and said, "One badly wounded Folk. We need to get the stretcher in there and get her out without causing more injuries."
The two bearers dropped the stretcher on the ground and crawled in with it between them. A few seconds later, one said, "Anything we need to know before we try to get her on the stretcher? We've…um…never dealt with a patient like her."
Daria looked in. "Don't touch her chest area…where all the bandages are."
"Roger, ma'am." Working in the cramped space, they got her onto the stretcher and slowly slid it out from underneath.
The medic looked at the bandages. "To be honest, I don't know what more I can do." He looked at Daria. "You probably know more of her anatomy than I do."
Daria said, "We need to get her to Edwards and the Nebulachaser. It has a Folk doctor."
"Transport is our business, ma'am. But, on our way in, we got word that she should be here any minute."
Daria relaxed some. "Let's get her out of these rocks."
Holding Eveningsky's hand, Daria stayed with the stretcher as the two bearers walked it from the rocky debris.
The medic looked up at the giant, glowing disk dropping at great speed.
Tim looked up and said, "She's once again a beautiful sight. Though I agree, the cavalry could have shown up a few minutes earlier."
Daria remained focused on Eveningsky. "Help is here. Hang on for us."
Eaton hollered at the nervous Air Force troops. "That's a big friendly. Don't shoot."
The ship came to a jarring halt and the central pillar dropped from the center of the disc to the desert floor near the wreckage of Nest Two. As soon as it touched down, the hatch opened and three Folk in white emerged, each carrying a small case. They noticed the stretcher party and ran to meet them.
Loud clicks and scrapes came from the lead Folk. "(Set her down so that…)" She looked down and moved a control on her belt. "(Damn…)" "…thing. Set her down so I can examine the princess."
Net News Network
Nest Two, the craft carrying the Folk emissary, Princess Eveningsky, her mother, Daria Morgendorffer-O'Neal, and her step father, is reported to have crashed in the Nevada desert shortly after takeoff. Some reports indicate it may have been shot down. Further reports state that at least one of the two crew and three passengers was killed.
No official statements have been issued by the United States government, the United Nations, or the Folk Embassy.
It is unknown why the Princess and her party were in Nevada during this important stage of interplanetary negotiations.
The United States Air Force reported the loss of two F-22 Raptors during training maneuvers. One pilot was rescued with minor injuries, the other was killed. Details of the loss are not available at this time.