Altered Children

In early February 2027, navy Capt. Mack Wallace, now assigned to the Defense Intelligence Agency at the Pentagon, gained access to secret files of Project Bluebook and the Advanced Aviation Threat Identification Program (ATIP). He acquired valuable information about UFO investigations, and passed it on to FACE’s board of directors.

As Mack discovered, two of three crewmen of a spacecraft that crash-landed in SW Ohio in April 1977 had been found alive. Based on the information the deceased children had obtained from Admiral teDanon’s mind, Mack was certain one of those crewmen was the admiral’s father. He had spoken passable English and claimed an engine malfunction caused the crash.

When found inside the ship, which had sustained significant structural damage, the captain had asked to be allowed to contact his superiors using his craft’s communicator—one of the few pieces of equipment still working. The request hadn’t been granted. One crewman had died several hours later, but the captain lived until the following day. The air force had taken control of the bodies and what little remained of the craft and moved them to a hanger in the super secret base and research site in Nevada known as Area 51; they were still there.

Autopsies had provided valuable information about the aliens’ physiology. Very little technical knowledge had been gained from examining the craft’s wreckage. The makeup of the materials in the craft’s outer skin and the science behind its engine design and propulsion remained a mystery.

Ramaraju Gupta had been conducting a survey to bring up-to-date the biographies of each of the children and their families. He prepared charts and tables of data on the children’s talents and educational levels, their emotional problems, family relationships, and the backgrounds of their parents. In mid-February Rama uncovered a problem, seemingly isolated until he compiled the information and completed a variance analysis.

Rama rushed into Dennis Murphy’s University of Washington office. “Take a look at this chart and the scatter diagram. They show a disturbing pattern of heart attacks among the children.”

Dennis looked up. “What? Sit down and show me what’s going on.”

Rama, hand shaking, laid some papers on the desk, but remained standing. “I noticed an unusual number of fatal myocardial infarctions among the children, exceedingly rare for their ages. Because they had seemed so healthy, their doctors requested autopsies. But they found no heart disease or other proximate cause.”

“Strange indeed,” Dennis said. “How many are we talking about here?”

“Eight. Statistically significant. We might see one, or two at most over several years.”

“Any theories?”

“I spoke to three medical examiners concerning the deaths as what if situations.” Rama paced back and forth. “Each said if they had conducted the autopsy, they would consider the deaths as resulting from unknown causes, possibly homicide, and would investigate further.”

“Sit down, Rama. You’re making me nervous. What else do you have?”

“We already know the children are not strongly affected by the anesthetics the aliens use and a number of them have awakened during their examinations. The doctors and intelligence experts on our operations committee surmise the aliens induced the heart attacks in children who awakened prematurely and caused a disruption. The likely purpose would be to maintain the secrecy of this Operation Pacify of theirs”

“Well,” Dennis said, “it’s one more reason for the children to learn to control themselves and suppress all outward reactions to the kidnappings and experiments. Put out an alert on this as soon as we’re done here. I’m glad you did the survey, Rama. Otherwise, this might have been missed until—” Dennis clenched his fists, his fair complexion turning pink from anger and frustration. “Damn it! Let’s keep on top of this.”

The newly elected Jitzan government had a center-left orientation. It disagreed with the previous administration’s support for the resolution introduced by the Silkaran ambassador ten years earlier to quarantine Earth. ECR B1847 had received only three votes and was rejected by the league’s executive council.

The new coalition president forced Senior General Blogg and Ambassador Zetch into retirement, but not before they destroyed all evidence of the previous government’s complicity in Operation Pacify. General Blogg had thought long and hard concerning what to do regarding the Jitzan destroyer assigned to the Jerithan Study Group’s flotilla. She finally replaced the officers and crew who’d been participating in Operation Pacify with others who knew nothing of the operation’s true nature.

Reluctantly, the new Jitzan leadership fulfilled Jitza’s commitment under ECR B1847 and continued the destroyer’s assignment to the flotilla, but only until the next scheduled rotation two months later. The president informed the league they would only participate in the regular rotation schedule. Silkaran First Admiral teReevat and the defense minister replaced the Jitzan destroyer with a Silkaran destroyer which would remain on station permanently or be replaced by another Silkaran destroyer. It joined the Mythran destroyer currently on rotation for the next two years, continuing the presence of two escort destroyers at all times.

Cold wind tugged at their coats and jackets. A mostly cloudy sky filtered the light, allowing occasional sunbeams to peek through and illuminate the new cherry blossoms beginning to festoon the otherwise austere streets of the capital. Dennis Murphy, the Treasury assistant secretary, Gerald Madden, and six altered children stepped gingerly to avoid puddles from the early rain on their way from the Treasury Building to the White House mid-morning on Tuesday, March 16.

Gerald held a doctorate in international finance and was respected by Democrats and many Republicans. They had been preparing for this meeting, arranged by the assistant secretary, for the last couple of weeks.

The foundation had settled on a plan that satisfied optimists and pessimists alike. The meeting with the president was coordinated with similar meetings taking place during the same week in Australia, Germany, Japan, and Morocco. If they failed in this attempt to inform and involve national leaders in their efforts to stop Operation Pacify and protect the children, they would wait and try again when a more opportune situation developed—if government involvement could not be avoided.

President Judith Wharton, formerly the senior senator from California, had been in office for two years. She was expecting to meet with a group of American child prodigies visiting the capital under the sponsorship of FACE and their local MENSA chapters. Dennis had been included because of his position as chairman of FACE.

The president’s chief of staff led them into the Oval Office. President Wharton, fiftyish, with platinum blond hair, blue eyes, and an engaging smile, rose from the seat behind her desk. She strode to the visitors and shook their hands as they introduced themselves. Gerald’s son, Todd, was among them. He had his father’s dark brown, curly hair, but much darker skin. The president invited them to sit on the sofas in front of her desk facing one another across a coffee table. The president and her chief of staff sat in nearby chairs.

“Welcome to the White House,” President Wharton said. “I understand you children are all under ten years old and already in college. I didn’t realize MENSA had members so young.”

“Well, Madam President,” Dennis said, “ MENSA members range in age from four to ninety-four and have IQs in the top two percent of the population.”

President Wharton looked at the children. “Fascinating. Now, please tell me a little about yourselves.”

The children took turns briefly describing their families, interests and educational goals. Those who were not talking probed the minds of the president and chief of staff. They were gratified to find high officials who were truly motivated toward the best interests of the country and not dedicated to increasing their own power and self-aggrandizement.

Anna Burgio, however, detected random thoughts concerning a recording device. Using her ability in telepathic hypnosis, she instructed the president to turn off the recorder, which she did. When a telepath made mental suggestions to a non-telepath the receiver usually considered the thoughts their own, making it much easier to direct their actions.

After the children finished, Dennis cleared his throat. Everyone looked at him. “Madam President, the children have barely skimmed the surface of their abilities. I would like Sarah and Todd to demonstrate another of their skills.”

The two children stood. Using telekinesis, Todd Madden removed four books from a bookcase and juggled them in the air above his head, then passed them to Sarah, who did the same. She then stacked them one by one on the coffee table near the president’s chair, still using telekinesis. The children then took their seats.

The president and her chief of staff were dumbfounded, their eyes were wide open and the president’s jaw had dropped.

President Wharton finally recovered her voice. “How . . . how did you do that?”

“It was a magic trick, wasn’t it?” the chief of staff asked.

“Let me explain,” Dennis said. He then told them the children had strong clairvoyant, telepathic and psychokinetic abilities. “I’d like Peter Starkey to demonstrate his clairvoyant ability.”

The president slowly nodded her head. Peter glanced at the president’s desk and noticed a piece of paper turned upside down so its contents were not visible. “Madam President, you have a document upside down on your desk. I will it read to you without looking at it.” It was a secret briefing note from the CIA regarding the status of nuclear warheads in Russia.

When he was done reading the first two paragraphs, the president held her hand up for him to stop. She reached to her desk and picked up the note, glanced at it and frowned. “I don’t know how you were able to see the document, but it has to stop. That is a secret document, and none of you should be aware of its contents. Maybe this is a good time for you all—”

Dennis interrupted. “I’m sorry for the faux pas, Madam President. But, you had to be shown a little of their capabilities so what I’m going to say would be more credible. Please bear with me a little longer.”

“All right, but if there is a point, please get to it,” President Wharton said.

He told them of the alien shuttlecraft and the bodies in Area 51, describing them.

“I know nothing of this,” the president said, “other than what I’ve read in the newspapers . . . and . . . the rumors we’ve all heard.” She turned to her chief of staff. “Do you know anything of this?”

“Not a thing, Madam President,” he replied. “Maybe you should call Harrison in.”

“Excuse me, Madam President,” Dennis said. “But shouldn’t we keep this limited to the two of you, at least for now?”

President Wharton nodded to her chief of staff and faced Dennis. “It’s all right Dr. Murphy, Harrison Chang is my national security adviser. He can be trusted completely. While we wait for him, enlighten me about the aliens.”

A few minutes into Dennis’ description of Operation Pacify, the nearly bald, slightly chubby national security adviser arrived, bespectacled and wearing his trademark bow tie.

“Harrison, Dr. Murphy has been telling me a very interesting story concerning extraterrestrials. Do you have information on a crashed spacecraft and alien bodies in Area 51?”

“No Madam President. Nothing at all.”

Anna Burgio immediately jumped up. “Madam President, excuse me, but he knows a lot about it.”

“How do you know that, young lady?” the president wanted to know.

“Don’t forget ma’am, we are telepathic.”

“Harrison, out with it!” President Wharton demanded.

Mr. Chang’s face reddened. “I can’t say anything in front of these people.”

President Wharton shook her head. “You mean there is something to those stories?”

“I recently learned about it and was going to brief you next week, Madam President. It is highly classified.”

Gerald Madden coughed to get their attention. “Madam President, I can vouch for these people.”

The president stared at the Treasury Department official. “They seem to know everything already. Just a moment please.” She returned to her desk and buzzed her secretary. “Doris, reschedule the rest of my morning meetings, and bring refreshments for everyone.” Returning to her seat, she said, “Dr. Murphy, repeat to Harrison what you told me regarding Area 51.”

Dennis repeated his description of the crash outside of Hamilton, Ohio, the shuttle and the bodies of its crew. He stopped once, when the president’s secretary brought in the refreshments. There was a selection of coffee, tea, milk and various pastries. After everybody took what they wanted, he finished his narrative.

“Well, Harrison,” President Wharton said, “what about it?”

He confirmed what the president had been told and added, “This was part of the update I had planned for you. Where did they get their information?”

“We’ll soon know, I think. Please continue with your story about Operation . . . what did you call it?”

“Operation Pacify, Madam President.” Dennis told them of the League of Worlds, the quarantine resolution and its failure at the executive council, the objectives of Operation Pacify, and finally, the abductions and how the experiment affected the children.

“This is a lot to absorb, Madam President,” Mr. Chang said. “But I still want to know how they know about it, especially where their information on Area 51 came from.”

At Dennis’ request, Jason explained what had occurred with the four children who had been abducted and killed during their escape attempt, and how they had obtained the information and passed it to the children on Earth. Once again, Dr. Murphy asked the children to demonstrate their paranormal abilities, primarily for the benefit of the national security adviser.

Mr. Chang ran his hand through his receding hair. “Dr. Murphy, can we arrange to test the children in a controlled environment?”

“No. They have already demonstrated their abilities and are being tested by the foundation we established for their protection and training. The foundation decided it was time to inform the top level authorities of our government and to seek your help.”

Gerald said, “We have to limit the knowledge of the children’s capabilities to you three for now. Many of us have been extremely reluctant to let knowledge of them spread outside the foundation because of fear over what might happen. You must be as aware as we are that people in the intelligence community will want to test them, to be polite, as Harrison Chang indicated. There are those who will want to control the children . . . and others might be afraid of what they can do and wish to harm them.”

“We could protect them better than your foundation,” Mr. Chang said, and could not help thinking to himself. They would be much safer on a military base.

“Isn’t there something we can do to stop this Operation Pacify?” the president asked.

With a little irritation, Dennis said, “The government hasn’t been able to do a thing about the aliens for over seventy years.” Then, more calmly, “But, we’re putting together a plan. We think it has a good chance of succeeding, but it depends upon the children and their talents.”

“What is your plan?” the president asked. We need to manage this situation, she thought. Can’t leave it in the hands of amateurs.

We’ll need to keep tabs on them, maybe tap their phones, the national security adviser thought at the same time before he was able to stop himself, his heart racing.

“It’s still being formulated,” Dennis replied. “But, briefly, as soon as can disable the tracking devices, we plan to lure an alien shuttle to a location of our choosing and capture it. Several children will return to the spacecraft carrier and try to convince the admiral in charge of Operation Pacify to cease all activity; he already has misgivings about the entire operation.”

The children, who had been monitoring the thoughts of the president and other officials, communicated telepathically. They agreed the meeting wasn’t going as they had hoped, and were certain the government would control their lives and knowledge of their abilities would leak out before they were ready.

As National Security Adviser Chang was going to speak, President Wharton held up her hand, stopping him. She said to Dennis, “You don’t have the training for this sort of action. Do you really expect to plan and carry it out successfully?”

Jason tugged at Dennis’ sleeve. “Madam President, the government has had access to the crashed space ship and its crew’s bodies for a long time and been unable to learn anything significant.”

“Many times fighter aircraft have been sent to intercept the alien’s ships when they flew low enough in the atmosphere, but couldn’t catch up with any of them,” Todd added.

Peter stood and looked at each of the officials. “We children have already taken control of officers on their spacecraft and learned more in a few months than anyone else on Earth in seventy years.”

“We have a responsibility to the nation,” President Wharton said. “The government must make the ultimate decisions and be in charge of whatever action will be taken.”

The children cued one another and between them took control of the officials’ minds, putting them into a deep sleep.

“It’s not working,” Jason said to everyone.

Sarah Alonso explained to Dennis and Gerald what the officials had been thinking.

“This is essentially what Albert Cohen and others were afraid of,” Gerald Madden said.

“So what do we do now?” Dennis asked.

“We instruct them to forget everything except discussing normal things related to our being in college and MENSA at our young ages,” Anna suggested.

“Right,” Peter said, “and we should insert some false memories of our conversations to account for the passage of so much time.”

“I’ll have the president turn on the recorder again once we leave,” Jason said.

Upon everybody’s agreement, the children took control of the officials and gave them the instructions and memories they had prepared and rehearsed in case this became necessary. Then they awakened the officials with the memory of having concluded the meeting.

“Thank you very much, Madam President, gentlemen, for meeting with us,” Dennis said, while the children all nodded their heads and smiled.

“It was our pleasure,” the president said. She looked at the clock and added, “My how time does fly. You children are the future of our nation. If you need anything from my staff, you can request it through Dr. Madden.”

As the visitors left the Oval Office, the president slowly returned to her desk, her chief of staff and her national security adviser turned from the door to face the president. The officials stared at each other for a short time before Harrison Chang said, “Madam President, this was interesting and the children were engaging, but why did you need me?”

President Wharton looked a little confused. “I’m not sure. I must have had a good reason, but I can’t remember why just now.”

“Strange, quite strange indeed,” Mr. Chang mumbled as he returned to his office.

The visitors made their way out of the White House. As they ambled back to Gerald Madden’s office in the Treasury Building, the six children made mental contact with all the children who had similar meetings scheduled during the same week and apprised them of what had occurred.

Later, they posted results of the failed meeting on the foundation’s and the children’s websites, and sent e-mails to everyone informing them of the posting. By the end of the week, it was obvious that all the nations’ leaders had similar agendas and would not delegate such an awesome responsibility to any group outside of officialdom, especially to people who they all considered to be mere dilettantes and neophytes.

Izumi and Takashi Nishikawa entered Akira Tanaka’s office in the Neurology Department of the Tokyo Joshi-Idai University Hospital.

“Thank you for seeing us, Dr. Tanaka,” Izumi said, bowing. She then introduced her husband and the doctor.

The neurology chief returned Izumi’s bow. “It is my pleasure Nishikawa-sama.” He bowed to Takashi, who also bowed. “Please, will you both sit there.” Akira pointed to the two chairs in front of his desk. After they all sat, Akira removed papers from the file he had on Yuriko. He showed Yuriko’s brain scans to Takashi and explained about the artificial tumor and the aliens. Next, the doctor accessed the website Rama maintained for the foundation and reviewed the contents of several screens.

“If I had not seen this,” Takashi said, his head lowered, “I would never have been certain of what to do. But now I know. We must leave Japan if it is best for Yuriko.”

“I am sure it is the best thing under the circumstances, Nishikawa-sama.”

“But, where will I work, how will I support my family?”

“The foundation will help you find a good job, my husband,” Izumi said.

Akira Tanaka smiled and nodded his head. “This is true. They have already found a possible position. Your wife prepared a resume for you and the foundation made arrangements. The company wants to interview you on the telephone.”

Later in the evening, at home, Takashi reviewed information on the company and the job Akira had received from Dennis. An Everett, Washington company called Nanotech Systems had an export manager position open.

The company was fast becoming a major player in the research and development of nanotechnology systems. Some systems sent tiny nanobotic cameras coursing through veins and arteries and the intestines for medical diagnosis. Others aided the analysis of tiny stress fractures in materials through the coordinated efforts of multiple nanobots using microscopic measuring devices.

On March 29, 2027, Takashi passed the final phone interview. Two days later he was flown to Washington for an interview with the company president. After Takashi accepted the job offer in early April, he and Izumi started planning their relocation to Everett, just north of Seattle, with the assistance of the company’s Personnel Department. Nanotech also agreed to sponsor him so the necessary United States residence and work visas could be obtained.

The morning after her father accepted the job offer, Yuriko woke up in a state of excitement. She calculated the time in Washington and contacted Jason telepathically. He was in the middle of an afternoon study session on the University of Washington’s website for a class on observational astronomy.

Jason had been concentrating on a question concerning the observations he recently completed using the twenty-four inch reflecting Bradford Robotic Telescope at the Observatorio del Teide on the Island of Tenerife. Associated with the University of Bradford in West Yorkshire, England, the telescope was controlled via the Internet.

“Yuri-chan, you seem agitated, is everything okay?”

“Oh yes, Jason. It’s so thrilling. We’ll be moving to Washington soon, before the end of the month.”

“That’s wonderful, Yuriko. We should be able to spend time together won’t we?”

“Yes, but not too much time right away. I’ll be living with my family in Everett until our Discovery Bay school is open and I am able to move there. What about you?”

“Pete and I have to stay home until all the implant can be disabled and then join you at the school. My parents will stay somewhere else for awhile too. The aliens might come to our house even if they can’t detect anyone here, so it won’t be safe here.”

“Do you remember the Sakura Piano Concerto I wrote a few years ago?”

“Yes, it’s beautiful.”

“I expanded it and made it more complex. Last Friday night, I played it with the Tokyo Symphony Orchestra. After I finished, someone from Sony Pictures asked my father if I would adapt it for a movie they’re planning. Papa-san said it would be all right if I wanted to do it.”

“Excellent. But can you work on it while you’re living here?”

“No problem, Jase. Even if I have to go back to Tokyo with my mother part of the time, we can work it out. I have to go now. I miss you.”

“Me too. I can’t wait to see you.”

When they were done talking, Jason found it difficult to focus on his class work. He pictured Yuriko, and then the two of them hugging. His heart pounded and a sensation in his groin excited him in a strange and unexpected way. He looked down, noticed a bulge in his pants and rubbed himself there for a moment before he stopped, feeling flushed and embarrassed.

Karen Pacheco, JoAnn DeVry, Dennis Murphy and Howard Starkey stood next to Howard’s SUV after touring the forty-five-acre facility soon to become the Discovery Bay School for Advanced Children. The light April shower was just receding and a cold breeze blew under breaking clouds. Rays of sunlight shining on drops of moisture sparkled across the landscape.

Karen looked back at the grounds and tightened her coat’s hood over her head, still revealing wisps of brown hair. “Very impressive, Dennis. How did you ever manage to get this property?”

“Being at the right place at the right time, thanks to Howard’s observant nature.”

Howard leaned on his cane. “The Discovery Bay Camp was costing the owners more to maintain than they were getting in fees for its use as a retreat. We were lucky to get it for two and a half million dollars.” He pointed to one of the two two-story buildings. “That building and the fifteen cabins can easily sleep eighty people. The main building has the kitchen and dining facilities, as well as ample office space.

“Construction on the third building for a conference room and classrooms will be finished by mid-May. Some staff will live here, but the rest will have homes anywhere from virtually next door to within ten or fifteen miles. Easy commutes.”

“It was good meeting Rama face to face,” JoAnn said.

Dennis replied with a broad smile. “He just quit his position with the University of Washington, and is here on-site permanently.” Dennis Murphy had recently reduced his teaching load and become an adjunct professor at the university so he could devote more time to foundation business. “I expect to join him here at the end of the semester, when I leave UW.”

JoAnn gazed past Discovery Bay Road, over the lush foliage and through the tops of the many trees, predominantly pine, alder and cedar, to the large body of water known as Discovery Bay a hundred feet below. “This is a beautiful setting. How far is it from Port Townsend?”

“Only eight or nine miles,” Howard replied, “and close to four miles from Port Hadlock, where we can get a lot of the things we might need on short notice. For heavy-duty shopping we’ll go to Sequim or Silverdale, only a half-hour to forty-five minutes away.”

“To change the subject,” Dennis interjected, “We are all thrilled you both agreed to relocate here and join us.”

“Leaving my practice in Rochester was a little painful,” Karen said. “But Anna and the rest will be here soon, and I could not pass up the opportunity to work with all the children who’ll be here and at the other schools.”

“My feelings exactly,” JoAnn added. “Your offer to manage this school and be a part of the foundation was too good to ignore. Of course, I’ll miss the teachers and students at the Creative Learning School.” She wiped away the tears glistening in her eyes. “Dedicating it to Tom Wallace and the three children who were killed was very thoughtful.” JoAnn smiled. “Oh, and thank you again for helping my husband find a job. He likes it tremendously.”

“It’s our pleasure,” Dennis said. “We need you here. Now, Karen, how is your manual coming?”

Karen had volunteered to prepare a manual to guide staff at the schools in their efforts to help the children deal with confusion and stress associated with their growing paranormal skills.

The handbook utilized techniques successfully applied by the program implemented at the University of Maine’s Department of Parapsychology by professors Doug Moran and Janie Crew around the start of the twenty-first century. Their therapeutic methodology addressed the feelings of people with newfound paranormal skills. It was designed to look at the underlying issues rather than just the talent, thereby easing people who are struggling with their powers into society as gracefully as possible.

“The first draft is nearly done and I’ll give it to you, Rama, JoAnn and Munir in a few days for your review and feedback. The input I got from several children was invaluable, Masanja and Zahra in particular. Oh yes, and Phil Demakis made some excellent suggestions too. Their interest in parapsychology will benefit all the children. By the way, I was extremely impressed by Munir when I spoke to him a couple days ago.”

“Yes,” Dennis said. “The school in Morocco should flourish under his direction. Though Munir is fluent in English, we should probably translate the guide into Arabic or French . . . hmm, maybe both, for his staff. As you might remember, the school will be located just outside Mohrane, forty miles north of Rabat on the main route to the city of Tangier.”

“Munir tells me Masanja and Zahra have bonded quite strongly. Probably her influence has stimulated Masanja’s intense interest in parapsychology. He is adapting rapidly to modern life, and his learning rate is amazing—no doubt his photographic memory has helped.”

“Is it stable enough there—what about the radical Islamists?” JoAnn asked.

Dennis looked up at the ceiling for a short time and considered his answer. “At first we wondered if Spain would be a better choice. We were concerned because those radicals consider people who exhibit paranormal behavior to be evil witches, or even worse. Islamic extremists would likely act violently against the children. But, Munir assured us radical Islam has been losing favor for years and is no longer a significant factor. And we had nobody as well qualified as Munir who could operate a school in Spain.”

Karen furrowed her brow. “Hmm, I’d also like to have whoever will be running the Australian school and its therapy program look at the guide. Do you have people selected yet?”

“We’ve been working on it,” Dennis answered, “and finally narrowed down our choices for headmaster. A psychologist trained by Moran and Crew was selected last week and is moving to Morisset to help set up the school. We found a great place and were able to acquire it from bankruptcy. It was a bed and breakfast with a hundred twenty acres on the coast. The location is quite ideal. It’s in a secluded valley of the Watagan Mountains near Lake Macquarie and the city of Newcastle. The school’s only seventy miles north of Sydney and has easy access to Macquarie University to its south.”

While somewhat isolated, each of the three schools were within a reasonable driving distance from a major city and university.

As they prepared to leave, Howard turned to Dennis. “When do you think the schools will be ready for the children?”

“Well, preparations to receive them, including setting up the facilities and staffing the schools, are on track and completion is expected by the end of May.”

“That’s great,” Howard said.

“Wonderful news,” JoAnn added.

“Things are certainly moving fast,” Karen said.

Dennis smiled and noted, “If we moved any faster we’d be stepping on each others toes.”

Howard got behind the wheel after helping JoAnn into the front passenger seat.

Dennis assisted Karen into the backseat. “Karen, let’s have dinner later. I would like to discuss your role with the foundation a bit further.” She took his hand and smiled. “Of course, Dennis. I would love to have dinner with you. Let’s meet at my hotel at six o’clock. I’ll make our reservations.”

They returned to the Starkey’s home in Kala Point where Karen and JoAnn had left their cars. Dennis and Howard greeted Dorothy, Jason and Peter, and then went to Howard’s study to review additional logistics regarding the construction of the last building for the Discovery Bay school.

Promptly, at six o’clock, Dennis arrived at the Manressa Castle Hotel. Situated on a hilltop, the former mansion overlooked Port Townsend and the bay. He met Karen in the lobby, led her to the dining room and they were soon seated. Both ordered a house wine and Caesar salad. He ordered the coffee roasted rack of lamb, which was baked subsequent to being coated with an English mustard and seasoned with a special blend of coffees. She had the tiger prawn pasta sautéed with garlic and Roma tomatoes.

After finishing their gourmet dinner they retired to Karen’s room in the hotel. Dennis opened the bottle of cognac he had previously purchased at The Wine Seller on Water Street and poured for both of them. They continued their dinnertime discussion of her role in the foundation, concluding around nine o’clock. During the conversation, they had somehow found themselves sitting close together, their knees touching.

Dennis put his glass on the coffee table in front of them and looked at Karen. “We’ve worked together for . . . what . . . four years now?”

“At minimum. Closer to five, I think. In that time, you’ve done a wonderful job organizing the foundation and everything.”

“Thank you, Karen. And what you’ve accomplished with the program for the children is quite amazing.”

“Well,” she said, moving in a little closer. “I appreciate your kind words. But it’s the children who are amazing.”

Dennis nodded his head. “Truly.” He touched her cheek. “I don’t think I’ve met anyone quite like you. I’m growing awfully fond of you.”

Karen put a hand on his knee. “Me too. We seem to have a lot in common. And I expect we’ll be working very closely from now on.”

“I look forward to it.” He put an arm around her. “Is it warm in here or is it the cognac?”

She gave a throaty laugh and snuggled into his shoulder. They sat there quietly for a few minutes. Dennis breathed the scent of her perfume, adding to the slight intoxication of his wine and cognac. He turned her face to his and they kissed deeply.

“Hmm, that was nice,” she whispered. Her hand was still resting on his knee, but she moved it up slowly to his hardening member.

His hand slowly moved down from her cheek to her neck and to her breast, massaging it lightly. She raised her chin as he found the sweet spot of her neck and kissed it.

“You know, Dennis, it’s getting late. You’ve had a little too much alcohol to drive all the way to the ferry and then home. Please stay the night and leave in the morning.”

“I would love to, Karen. But, you know I didn’t bring my jammies.”

She chuckled. “You are definitely not a stuffed shirt, professor. I love your sense of humor. Don’t worry, I don’t think you’ll need your jammies tonight.”

Prime Minister kaKinon’s chief adviser, Gaspo kaPakar, hurriedly entered the prime minister’s office, out of breath.

“Great gods of Roshna, Gaspo,” the prime minister said, “sit down and catch your breath. Why are you in such a hurry?”

“Valarde . . . please excuse me—Madam Prime Minister.” He sat down in front of her big desk directly across from her, almost hyperventilating.

Prime Minister kaKinon poured a glass of water from her carafe and took it to her adviser. “Relax a moment, Gaspo. Then tell me what is so important.”

Adviser kaPakar leaned back and took several swallows. “Agent Scalpel’s last drop was a copy of a summary report alluding to a covert military operation called Operation Pacify. Its objective is to counter the violent tendencies of the Jerithans by modifying their genes. The General Staff approved the operation and they have been running an experiment on abducted Jerithans for around ten years.”

“Blood of Prax!” Prime Minister kaKinon exclaimed.

Adviser kaPakar continued. “The military has been working that operation under cover of the study program authorized by the league’s executive council about thirteen years ago. I have a copy of the documents here in my briefcase.” He removed a Union Intelligence Bureau folder, pulled three documents and a memory card from it and gave them to her with a trembling hand.

The prime minister looked up at the ceiling. “The military mind never ceases to amaze me.” She sat back on the edge of her desk and glanced through the papers. “Gaspo, this is worse than I had imagined. They are out of control, and the situation is extremely dangerous for all of us. It is truly a significant step backward for our civilization.”

“They do seem to have forgotten our own history,” Adviser kaPakar said.

She gazed into her adviser’s eyes. “Gaspo, ask Scalpel to get more information on this operation as soon as possible. Work with Home Affairs and the UIB to find another informant. We need substantial hard evidence before we can act. And . . . we must act soon. Have everyone be careful, very careful.”

“I will attend to it right now, Madam Prime Minister.” She nodded her head. Her adviser rose from the chair and exited the room leaving a still stunned prime minister sitting on the edge of her desk staring at the documents in her hand.

At the end of April Rama finished the survey he’d been conducting to bring up-to-date the biographies of each of the children and their families. Despite the issues related to the few children abusing their abilities, those with emotional problems, and the ones needing rescue, the vast majority of the children were everything anyone could possibly hope for.

The survey showed the intellects, skills and talents most of the children exhibited were becoming more pronounced and robust. About three quarters of the 229 children now active in the foundation were advancing rapidly in their university level courses, having completed high school studies in two or three semesters—before their ninth birthdays. Many were expected to graduate from college at ten or eleven years old.

Nearly a third of the children had already become recognized in their own countries as child prodigies, and a few were gaining international reputations. A number of these exceptional children had started to earn six figures through their works in art, music, and literature. Others were beginning to secure large royalties for inventions and various creations based on their burgeoning scientific and mathematical knowledge. The children, with the approval of their parents, dedicated a significant portion of their incomes to the foundation.

Three European children, guided by a faculty adviser who had no idea of their true natures, developed software to identify spyware that attempted to steal password, credit card and other data from an infected computer, and the system to which it was sending the stolen data.

The software would block the theft and e-mail to Interpol’s Internet crime unit information about the offending system. The children expected to complete beta testing within a few weeks and planned to license the software to companies specializing in the development and marketing of anti-virus and anti-spyware programs.

Peter Starkey was leading a team of six children in developing the AutoTran language translation software for personal computers, tablets and smartphones. It proved to be far more efficient and accurate than translation software currently for sale or in use on the Internet.

Three children and an electronics engineer father of one of them designed a new combined modem-router for home and business networks. They added new circuitry to provide an interface between AutoTran, phone lines and sound systems, thus enabling real time translation of voice transmissions between any two languages. One would download from the Internet a primary language and the languages into which conversations could be translated.

The integrated system significantly improved the level of participation during the foundation’s teleconferences. Altered children would be required only for telepathic communication of the most sensitive conversations, and with those living in acountries with authoritarian or otherwise unfavorable political climates.