Chapter 7

As usual, once the Phoenix begins its docking procedure at Center Neptune, I make my way to my glass tube for my ten second oil break.

My timing is perfect. Just as I lower myself into the platform, Mark and Princess appear in my Ready Room.

"Well, I guess Zark's not here." Princess says. "It's too bad. I really wanted to thank him again, for all of his help."

"Yeah, the mission wouldn't have been as successful without him." Mark adds.

Well! I guess they really were grateful for my assistance. Of course, I'm certain that this isn't the only reason they are here.

"Maybe… if we wait a few minutes, he'll come back." Princess suggests, slyly.

"That's a good idea, Princess." Mark grins. I can see him trying to look underneath Princess' pink miniskirt.

"I was really impressed with the way you handled yourself today, Mark." Princess purrs. "You really helped stop that Wheel Monster in its tracks."

"All part of the line of duty, Princess." Mark responds, winking at her. "But it wasn't the same, working with Cronus, instead of you."

"Oh, really?" Princess giggles. I can see a blush staining her cheeks. It's very attractive. "I enjoy working with you too, Commander."

"You're my favorite part of G-Force, Princess." Mark says. He suddenly has a worried look on his face, as if he's said too much.

Princess' eyes widen, and a huge smile lights up her entire face.

"I can say the same about you, Mark." she replies softly, looking flirtatiously up at him from under her visor.

"That's good to know, Princess." Mark says, reaching for her hand. But just as he brushes her fingertips, he pulls his arm away.

Princess looks disappointed, but resigned. She knows that there is a line that the two of them can't cross. And today, they have come dangerously close.

Reluctantly, the pair departs.

Sighing, I prepare to settle back into the remainder of my oil change, when I receive a notification from the program I use to observe the Crab Nebula.

Another Spectran mecha? Spectra invaded Earth yesterday, and Odin today. Two mechas in three days is highly unusual. Three in that time period is unheard of. What is going on?

Checking the computer systems, I discover that it is not a mecha.

It is a transmission.

The signal is being sent on an antiquated, rarely-used frequency. It is unlikely that anyone, other than myself, would even have noticed it. Even Susan probably hasn't seen this. I have always been a stickler for monitoring every possible contingency.

And now it is paying off.

The signal appears to be in a binary form: a combination of 'on/off' indicators.

It only takes me a few seconds to interpret it.

This is the same pattern that the indicator lights displayed from the mecha from two days ago. The message is the same.

7-X2-1321

It is for me.

I quickly comprehend its purpose. It is seeking confirmation.

I rapidly return the message, on the same frequency. I vary the pattern slightly, by altering the timing of its transmission by a few milliseconds. First I repeat the code: 7-X2-1321. And then, I add one additional word.

Activated.

I only send my return transmission once before disconnecting. But it is enough. I am pleased to note that as soon as my message has been sent, the originating signal is discontinued.

My response has been noted.

I can only hope that Lord Zoltar is pleased.

Suddenly, I realize how careless I was. What if someone noticed my activity? Certainly, the frequency was not likely to be used, but had someone discovered that I had been using the communications array?

Nervously, I scan the security monitors around the base. Everything looks within the ordinary. Chief Anderson is at his desk, the guards are not on alert, the scientists are in the lab. 1-Rover-1 is still charging his batteries, and G-Force is in their Ready Room.

No… not all of G-Force. Jason and Tiny are missing.

Now frightened, I continue scanning, until I realize where they are. They are on board the Phoenix. Tiny is stocking his hidden mini-fridge, and Jason is performing maintenance on his car. The music of Celine Dion softly fills the G-2 Bay.

I haven't been discovered. My relief is palpable. I know that I must be more vigilant. I cannot afford to be this careless again. I resolve to bury myself in my usual duties, and sit back, letting my plan take care of itself. I can't afford to be suspect before everything resolves itself the way I need it to.

With these thoughts, I return to my Control Center, and my usual tasks.