CHAPTER 7

TOP SECRET

As Mel suspected, the Doctor was thoroughly enjoying his self-imposed research project. He had happily followed the trail of the temporal disturbance to its ultimate termination point directly above the Atlantic Ocean. He was in the process of patting himself on the back when he noticed the sensors had detected faint traces of an interstellar ion drive, something that did not exist at this point in Earth's history.

"Another temporal mystery," he muttered, scowling down at the console.

The traces were much too faint to get an exact directional fix on without considerable effort, and he was determined to keep his promise to his companion and arrive on time to retrieve her. He had already spent more than a week tracing the termination point, and would need several more days to go back and trace the source of the ion transmission. In the interest of time the Doctor decided to cheat and drop in on his friends at UNIT to see if anything unusual had occurred during the past week or two.

Mel arrived at what was supposed to be the Officer's Mess, thinking the outside of the building looked more like an old warehouse. The inside did not look much different, and seemed to have been converted from a warehouse to a sectioned off cafeteria. Whatever its design, the slightly darker, cooler interior of the building was an inviting change from the stifling midday heat.

The Colonel was just inside the door when Mel arrived. He was cordial but evasive when asked what had become of the crashed spaceship, or what the plans might be for its lone survivor. Mel knew the entire incident would be considered classified, probably ending up in a file with TOP SECRET stamped across it in bright red letters. When Hildebrand changed the subject and asked about her vacation and subsequent visit to Florida, she chose not to fight the issue, going along with his obvious attempt to steer the conversation away from the very reason she was there in the first place.

As the Colonel went on with his small talk, Mel took the time to study him more closely. The last military man she had met on Earth was Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, an old friend of the Doctor's. Despite the fact that the Brigadier was actually retired, command seemed to fit him like a glove. When things started to go…well, the way they always go with the Doctor around, Mel remembered that the Brigadier had taken charge of things without so much as batting an eye.

Colonel Hildebrand, on the other hand, seemed to be struggling most of the time. He was a large man who may have always relied on his size to intimidate others. Oddly enough, it did not intimidate the diminutive Melanie Bush, and the man across the table did not seem to know how to compensate for this other than to be overly congenial, or as Mel thought of it, patronizing.

Then Mel thought about the injured Jason, who was very likely still in surgery. Well, she hoped he was still in surgery. He had told her a few things while he was being evaluated that she had not passed on to the staff, one of which being that he doubted he would survive the surgery. Just thinking on this caused Mel to lose her appetite and she gave the Colonel a weak smile as he chattered on.

When the meal ended, the congenial atmosphere seemed to end along with it. Hildebrand took Mel back to his office, stating that he had a temporary pass being prepared for her. She was pleased to see his office was in a structure that at least looked like it was supposed to be an office building. The various buildings and their composition had caused her to wonder if the Base was actually a secret location for something, as nothing seemed as it appeared on the outside. Each time she crossed the compound she committed a new section to memory to analyze later.

A civilian was waiting in Hildebrand's office and he got to his feet when they entered. The man was so stereotypically official looking that Mel was sure he was going to hand her a business card with government agent stamped on it in bold black letters.

"This gentleman is from the Immigration Service," Hildebrand informed suddenly.

Mel could not help herself and giggled. "The ones who deport illegal aliens? Boy, have you come to the right place."

The others were not amused. "He's here about you, Ms Bush," the Colonel informed stiffly.

Mel was immediately serious. "Me? Why?"

"The INS wants to know why there's no record of your entering the country."

Looking from one to another, she replied, "Is this a joke?"

"No, ma'am," the government man replied.

"You've already gone through my luggage. I could tell by the right mess it was in when it arrived. You've probably gone through my purse too. I left that in the helicopter and would appreciate having it back. You must've found my passport. Or do you think I forged the entry stamp?" Mel challenged.

The men exchanged a look that puzzled her.

"Look," she went on, "I didn't sneak across the border in somebody's car boot. I arrived on a friend's private yacht and was checked in through Customs a week ago. They didn't seem to find my arrival at all odd. So why are you suddenly?"

After several more minutes of questions, the Colonel abruptly said, "I think I have all the answers I need," and the interview ended. The man from Immigration thanked Mel for her assistance and left.

Mel was nonplussed. "What was that all about?"

Hildebrand gave an amused smile. "You're a feisty little lady, aren't you?"

Never one to appreciate a condescending attitude, Mel was on her feet. "If you think I'm feisty now, just wait—"

The Colonel held up his hands and to Mel's surprise apologized. "When I found out you'd arrived only a week ago, I had you run through the international data base," he informed, tapping a finger on a folder on the desk.

"Checking with Interpol to see if I'm a criminal mastermind or something?" Mel asked sarcastically. "Did you think I shot that ship out of the sky?"

"It's strictly routine in security matters," Hildebrand explained. "It's the answer I didn't believe. Thought it must be another Melanie Bush—"

"Who also comes from Pease Pottage, England?" she added astringently, sitting down again.

"There's only one that matches your description." The officer paused a beat. "And has top secret clearance. It's that last piece of info that I couldn't believe. You don't exactly fit in the same mold as these other UNIT people."

That's probably because I'm not one of these other UNIT people, Mel thought, wondering just what these "UNIT people" did. She was just as surprised as Hildebrand and even more interested in how she had miraculously gotten top-secret government clearance. Doctor, what have you been up too? she wondered amusedly, keeping her bewilderment to herself. With a small smile, she said, "Don't always judge by appearances, Colonel. You'd be amazed the kind of investigations I've been on." Before the man across the desk could comment, Mel asked, "Is there any news on our other illegal alien?"

After a few phone calls the Colonel learned that Jason had gotten out of surgery and had been moved to the hospital's Critical Care Unit. Mel asked if she could see him and was taken to Dr. Miller, who was in charge of the case that had been code named Visitor. Mel took this last piece of information in with a wince, wondering why the military always had to assign code names to everything. She thought she should probably tell them that Jason actually had a name, but decided to keep this piece of information, and the fact that he was an Ambassador of some sort, to herself.

Dr. Miller was not very forthcoming on Jason's status until Mel flashed her newly acquired security pass, courtesy of Colonel Hildebrand and this mysterious UNIT. She smiled inwardly at his reaction. He explained the extent of the Visitor's injuries, and his chances of survival, which were not good. Jason had suffered extensive internal injuries, which Mel already suspected considering he had a piece of metal sticking out of him. His right leg had been so badly crushed that it had to be amputated, his left leg fairing slightly better, being broken in several places. There was a question mark on whether they could save his right arm, which was being held together with plates and screws. As if all this weren't bad enough, Mel was stunned to learn that Jason had gone into cardiac arrest once and stopped breathing twice during his surgery.

"God knows what's keeping him alive," the physician remarked. "We have him on partial life support, but I've no idea if it's helping keep the strain off his system or not."

"I'd like to see him," Mel insisted.

"Ms Bush, his condition is extremely critical," Dr. Miller reiterated. "There's no telling when or even if he'll regain consciousness."

Mel understood all this and said so. "But if he does wake up," she pointed out logically, "none of you will be able to understand a word he says."

Unable to come up with a suitable response, or overlook her VIP status, Miller relented and took her to the Critical Care Unit, a designation Mel found curious. As with all the other buildings on Base, the hospital was a puzzle. It was relatively small yet surprisingly well equipped and staffed; and the Critical Care Unit was more like a quarantine chamber. Or was it actually a clear prison cell? It was a large room, three sides enclosed in thick plate, possibly bulletproof glass, an electronic lock on the door. The bed was positioned in the center of the room with monitors on either side that relayed information to a twin at the nurse's station situated directly outside the door.

Mel stood outside the glass door a few minutes looking in at the gravely injured Alterran. The man she'd met all those hours ago had been a bruised and bloodied mess. Now he was clean and swaddled in bandages and casts, his swollen face obscured by the respirator that helped him to breathe. Her eyes moved to the stump where his right leg had been and she gave way to an involuntary shudder. At least they were able to save your arm, she thought as she entered the room.

"Hey, Mr. Ambassador, it's me, your friend Mel," Mel heard herself saying quietly. "You're going to be okay. I'll be right here, so don't worry about anybody understanding you." She stood quietly at the bedside, gently stoking his undamaged left hand and arm, being careful not to touch his I.V. tubes.

A voice from the door broke the silence, jarring her from her thoughts and causing her to jump. "Please step away from the Visitor and identify yourself."

Mel spun around, startled by the first British accent she had encountered on the American military base. The soldier at the door was wearing the blue beret of the United Nations, but she did not recognize the insignia. Well, that explains the accent, she thought. He's a U.N. solider. But what on Earth does UNIT stand for? United Nations Invasion…something?

"How did you get in here?" the officer asked tersely.

"Well I didn't drop in from the sky, did I?" Mel replied astringently. She realized the irony of this remark the moment she said it and added quickly, "I came in through the door, same as you." The man opened his mouth and she cut him off, "And before you ask again, I'm Melanie Bush. I'm the one who found him. And I'm here because I'm the only one who understands a word he says." Crossing to him, she thrust her UNIT identification into his hand. "Here's my authorization."

The soldier looked at it, smiled briefly, and handed it back. "Thank you, Miss. That clears up everything." He touched his cap and smiled again before exiting, leaving the bewildered Mel staring after him.