Authors: Ross H Henderson
“So are you going to send a team out to Kansas?”
“Not just yet. You barely made it out with your life when the island was whole. I would like you to go out there, investigate, and report back. If you would like, you can assemble your own team and secure the ship, but for now you are only to report back. Do not engage anyone you find from the ship. Do you understand?”
“Yes sir, my orders are to gather intel, and report back.”
“Good, I’ll have you flown in from New Seattle, and you can drop in under cover of darkness. I’ll see you in 24 hours.”
***
Newton Paxson was getting ready to reconnect with Beverly Beckett, a young lady he dated briefly a year ago, one of his few relationships that ended on somewhat friendly terms. The decision was mutual, which helped. At the time she was almost as awkward as he was, and about as needy. Now Newton felt like he was ready to give Beverly the strength and assurance his new friends had given him. How could she say no? He was walking taller and feeling better than ever.
He also decided to leave the olive drab military parka at home. It was the middle of spring with no need for arctic protection, and certainly no need to hide his new lean physique.
He had called earlier in the day, and asked Beverly to meet him at the local coffee shop. One of the only locally owned stores in the area, Down in the Perk was a small place that owed most of its business to people on their way to or from somewhere: work, the movies, shopping, the library, wherever. Usually, no one stopped in to stay for a cup of coffee. Healy was a small town in size and population, but in its technologically-oriented lifestyle, the culture and habits of its inhabitants were indistinguishable from a big city like New York or New Seattle. As a result, Down in the Perk got by with eight tables in a small, dimly lit room. It looked like it might rain, and Newton had hoped Beverly would not get caught in it.
Beverly Beckett arrived shortly after Paxson did, stopping long enough to frame herself inadvertently in the doorway. With the rain picking up behind her silhouette, Paxson could have been looking at a still from an old movie or a panel from a graphic novel. She was mostly covered by a long black coat, with a gray blouse and black pants. She did not wear much makeup, but there was enough mascara to run down one of her cheeks from the rain. Her dyed-black hair was wet and had curled up, but looked like it could have been intentionally curled. Usually her hair covered her face, but since it had curled up, it framed her round face nicely.
She was a normal size for a young woman her age, 5-feet, 4-inches tall, and thinner than Paxson remembered. But Beverly was still self-conscious, still not comfortable in her own skin. He thought she reminded him of himself a few days ago, but the truth was that she was much more organized and driven than he was. One would not catch her smoking marijuana in a field when she could be studying Japanese, networking, or otherwise moving ever-closer to her goal of being a high-powered executive at a company like BioMek Horizons, or KronosKorp, or some other major player that had yet to be named.
Beckett was driven to succeed. She wanted to leave Kansas to make a great living and to have an interesting life, but she also wanted to leave because she hated being around the people in the small towns. They didn’t appreciate what they perceived as her “big city” attitude, and she believed she was being judged all the time. The people of Healy didn’t judge her
all
the time, but most of it. Anger was as much of a driving force as a desire to succeed.
She enjoyed being around Paxson since he had a similar disdain for people who didn’t share his love of literature, and together they made fun of the locals. The main problem with their relationship was that Paxson could never match her intensity, and as an English Literature major who wanted to teach, she knew he could never be the alpha male she dreamed about ruling her corner of the world with. In the last few hours, he came to understand this, but also knew he had changed and could be the kind of man she was looking for: strong, smart, driven, and ruthless.
Beverly smiled as she walked up to Newton. He stood as she came closer, which surprised both of them. Newton Paxson had never stood up for a lady in his life. He didn’t mean to be rude. He just never thought of it … but yet he did it tonight, and Beverly was taken aback by the show of respect. As many young men as she shared her business classes with, none had ever done the same. Like Paxson, they were still boys, and were never shown how to act around a lady.
“Newton Paxson, you have changed,” she said with a sly smile.
“Yes, I have. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking in the last few days, mostly about you. We got along well together, but you wanted more. I want to be more, and now I know I can be more. I want us to get to know each other again, and I’ll let you be the judge. I believe we can help each other.” Paxson realized he had been looking into her big, brown eyes the whole time.
Eye contact was another social grace he lacked until tonight. He enjoyed the rush of adrenaline and did not look away until he was done speaking. He also did not wonder how long he could keep up the act. It wasn’t an act. This was who Newton Paxson was now, and he knew it. He completely embraced it.
Beverly Beckett’s gaze met his and locked, “We might be able to, at that.”
As planned, Nick Wolfe dropped in by parachute later that night. It was more like early morning, but the storm got worse for a while and the team decided to take no chances and wait for the storm to move on. A BioMek agent met Wolfe near the landing area with a change of clothes, some surveillance equipment, and a modest navy blue sedan so he could fit in. He would fit in well enough. Fifty years ago, the residents of a small town like Healy would notice any stranger and approach with caution and suspicion. These days, locations varied in America, but the culture and behavior were exactly the same. No one looked up from their TCs, or telecommunicators. News, games, sports scores, pornography, and other distractions commanded all the attention of most people. People barely noticed anything in the real world anymore.
Wolfe checked in at an old motel on the outskirts of town, a motel so old it was still called a motel. It was as old fashioned as one could find in the United States. It had two floors and no interior hallway. All doors led out to a sidewalk or a balcony-walkway. Keys were used instead of cards or TC applications. Retinal scans were completely out of the question. If a guest didn’t have a key, they didn’t have access to the room. The doors were heavy wood and the locks were made mostly of steel. They definitely didn’t make them like this anymore. It was old, but more secure than the new hotels, with their hackable security systems, including hackable locks, and wafer-thin doors. Nick Wolfe had broken into enough “modern” hotel rooms to know this was a good spot.
He also liked the convenience of being able to walk right out to his parking spot less than two yards from his door, but just to be on the safe side he usually parked in front of a room on the other side of the hotel and cut through a hallway in the middle of the building where the vending machines were. The ice machine leaked, so the floor was wet between the machine and a drain in the concrete. It also emitted a buzzing sound and made the hallway smell moldy.
All the lights in the hallway were out, which suited Wolfe just fine.
Nick unpacked the briefcase and set up the equipment he was given. It was nothing too flashy, but he had the ability to securely connect onscreen with Tristan Evans, secured satellite access, and a control center set up for a small army of insect-sized drones, whose camera images could be accessed independently or combined for a “big picture” view. He would go out and spread these along the countryside on the way to the crash site, since they also had motion detection and could act as alarms.
Next he unpacked his suitcase. He was disappointed to find clothes instead of more gear and weapons. He had brought his own pistol and an extra clip, and it was a good thing he did: the extra ammunition was for the wrong kind of gun. He found a new leather bomber jacket, some slacks, button-down collared shirts, loafers, a pair of dress socks and a pair of white tube socks. Wolfe understood the importance of fitting in, but he also believed in being ready for action. He threw the dress shoes and socks in the trash can, but changed the rest of the new clothes. His combat boots weren’t noticeable unless one was looking for them.
He rested for a few hours until mid-morning, and then made plans to go out and search the countryside based on Tristan Evans’ intel on where he believed the ship to have landed. Afterward, he would snoop around town and see if anyone heard or saw anything unusual.
The trip to the outer plains was pleasant enough, but mostly fruitless. There was a large hill, which was not visible from the satellite until a few nights ago. Nick was sure this was a part of the ship, but where was the rest of it? He took down a few notes at the site, set up a few tiny motion-activated cameras linked to his TC, hiked around the surrounding area, and went back to town after a few hours.
***
Newton Paxson decided to reconnect with one of his friends from high school. If he was going to carry out his orders from the presence in the ship, he knew he would need some muscle. Maynard Halifax was a big man on campus in high school but, after breaking his ankle in his first year of college, never could run as fast as he used to and was cut from the team. He didn’t have a plan B
—
all he ever wanted to be was a professional athlete. He had been “regrouping” in his old room at his parents’ house for the last two years, mostly getting stoned and feeling sorry for himself.
Halifax answered his door wearing jeans, cowboy boots, and a black T-shirt that was a little too tight. His unruly reddish hair hung down over his eyes, but he otherwise looked like he was getting ready to meet someone or go into town.
“Hey, Pax. You’re looking good these days. What’s going on?”
“This will sound crazy, but the other night I saw something outside of town. Can I come in?”
“Sure, come on in.” Halifax closed the door behind him and flopped onto the sofa. “So, what did you see?”
“I’m not sure, but I think it may be an alien ship.”
“Come on, man. Who do you think you’re talking to here?”
“Well, I don’t know if it’s an alien ship but it is definitely a spaceship of some kind
—
though it looked like a small mountain before it embedded itself into the countryside. Now it just looks like a small hill, and I’m convinced most of it is underground. I was able to go inside, and I fell asleep in there for a while. The next thing I know I’m at home and two days have gone by. On top of that, I feel better than I have in years. I’ve lost weight and am more confident than I’ve ever been in my life.”
Paxson immediately wondered if it was wise to mention his mental state to Halifax, but decided it would be okay since he mentioned it to him hoping for a similar outcome for his friend.
He continued, “You know Beverly Beckett?”
“Yeah, you dated her for a while, but she dumped you because you weren’t ambitious enough. Yeesh, why’d you hook up with her again? She wasn’t any fun.”
“No, but I always regretted that we broke up, and the fact that I could have kept it from happening. Whoever her husband is will be a powerful man, and lately I think I can be that man.”
“You don’t sound like much fun either, bro.”
“I’m still the same guy, but I just want to get my life together and try to build something. Lately I don’t think teaching is for me … Anyway, why don’t you come out with me and see for yourself?”
“Aw, man. I’d like to, but Heath is coming by to help me with some college applications. It’s going to take a few hours, at least. Maybe we can do it later this afternoon?”
“College? Are you getting back into playing ball?”
“No, I’m just applying as a regular student. I’m not getting a free ride, but I’ll at least be able to get a job when I get out. You remember Heath, right?”
“Heath Chesterfield? Sure. He was always a stand-up guy
—
kind of a Boy Scout, now that I think about it. He was always stepping in between members of the football community and those of Nerd Nation. How are you friends with that guy?”
“Aw, cut it out, Pax. He’s a good guy and has been a good friend to me. He helped me out when I broke my ankle. Not with the injury, but in keeping my spirits up.”
“Okay, fair enough. If you want, I’ll wait with you and when he comes by we can ask him if he would like to come too.”
“I think that’s him coming up the driveway now.”
Nick checked his equipment and waited. Everything was state of the art, BioMek Horizons’ latest and greatest
—
the last word in surveillance for the next 10 years. He was fairly sure he was in the right area, but after looking around the supposed landing site with none of the normal evidence of a landing or a crash, he started to doubt he was even in the right neighborhood. Fortunately for Wolfe, close was all he had to be. He had a hundred flying drones at his disposal about the size of mosquitoes that he had casually dropped at strategic locations: near the suspected landing site, the highest ground, and at various places along the road to the site. While dormant, only 360-degree motion sensors were active. Once a sensor was set off, the drone would automatically set off an alarm at Nick’s workstation, show him the source of the disturbance, and await instructions, all while recording and feeding video to his tablet. He could have worked with a unit the size of a wristwatch, but that meant he would also have to have special glasses or a cybernetic modification so he could see the miniscule images. No, Nick Wolfe was a little more old fashioned than that. He liked to have it all laid out in front of him whenever possible, and from his hotel room he could see everything.