Altered Children

Nobody spoke in the clinic’s imaging facility. The clinic was affiliated with the medical school of Macquarie University, located just north of Sydney, Australia, in North Ryde. Quiet enough to hear the scratching of a pen on paper. They waited anxiously. Waited.

Kamal Fakherdin finished adjusting the settings on the modified CAT scanner and prepared it for what they all hoped would be the final test. He joined the others in the control room and nodded his head. Kamal and his father, Rachid, had recently moved from Morocco to Australia so Kamal could work more closely with the team to complete the final stages of testing.

Until this last stage, he attended Mohammed V University in Rabat, where he studied for a master’s degree in bioengineering and worked long distance on the project with Claire Watson and Bhagwant Kumara.

Kamal’s sister, Zahra, and their mother, Aisha Zahraoui, had remained in Rabat. He and his father planned to return home after the apparatus was successfully tested and deployed. They wanted to be present at the new Moroccan boarding school to welcome the children and their families who would be relocating from Africa, Europe and the Middle East.

The scanner’s monitor showed the brain of the cadaver on the table as it slid inside the modified CAT scanner. Claire watched the screen intently. The green-eyed Australian had just turned nine years old and was already working on her Master of Science degree in neurophysiology at Macquarie University. She had a walnut-sized reddish birthmark on the left side of her neck and wore her light brown hair in a ponytail and bangs.

Bhagwant sat next to Claire at the computer’s keyboard and typed notes into the log for what they all hoped would be the final test on this twentieth day of May in 2027. Bhagwant had moved from India to Australia with his parents and siblings at the beginning of the semester to work on his master’s degree in electrical engineering at Macquarie. He put on his reading glasses and ran his fingers through his dark black hair, which contrasted with skin that was on the light side for an Indian.

With them in the control room were the bioengineer and the neurologist from Macquarie University, and Dr. Joseph Edwards, the neurosurgeon from the University of New South Wales in Sydney, Australia. With his salt and pepper hair and veined, red face he reminded Claire of her deceased grandfather.

The cadaver was one of the altered children who had died of heart failure induced by the aliens. It was the last of three cryogenically frozen shortly after death and delivered to the team’s lab for their tests. Now, since the body had been sufficiently thawed, it lay on the table hooked up to an external mechanical assist device which assumed all the pumping functions of the heart to keep the blood flowing. Of course, there was no brain activity.

The team had modified a standard CAT scanner based on concepts formulated by Claire, Kamal and Bhagwant. The new scanner located the tumor in a patient’s brain, establishing very precise coordinates, and then targeted the tumor with x-rays. They had incorporated a set of x-ray modules in the CAT scanner, each of which directed a narrowly focused beam at the target.

The low level of radiation from each element did not damage surrounding tissue, but the cumulative effect at the target was sufficient to dissolve the tumor. They called the new machine the Multi-focusing Axial Radiation Emitter and Tomographic Scanner, or MARETS.

“Blood pressure and pulse at acceptable levels . . . in position . . . now,” the neurologist said as the table stopped its forward movement.

Dr. Edwards flipped on a switch. “Initiating the MARETS link with the CT.” He ratcheted up a dial, focusing the CAT scanner on the tumor.

The bioengineer flipped another switch. “Synchronizing the MARETS modules.”

“X-rays on,” the neurologist said. He watched the meters showing the output level of six x-ray modules. “X-rays are . . . at optimum level . . . now and the beams are on.”

Seven seconds passed and Claire pointed at the scanner screen. “Take a ‘squizz’ at that. The tumor is dissolving, just as before.” Once the implant was dissolved, the remnants were absorbed into the blood stream. Normally, the body would expel tumor remnants. The team, however, wanted to examine the makeup of the artificial tumors.

“Time for the nanobots to do their thing.” Dr. Edwards pressed a button on the console causing the plunger on the syringe to depress, injecting nanobots through the tube leading into the cadaver’s right external carotid artery.

Soon, the neurologist noted the nanobots moving through the artery, into the capillaries and toward the occipital horn of the brain’s right lateral ventricle. He watched them attach to the now free-floating filaments and draw the filaments through capillaries and into the internal jugular vein, which collected the blood from the brain.

The blood was filtered through a bypass loop connected at the base of the skull in the superior bulb of the internal jugular. This was at the point of the jugular vein’s exit from the brain before it united with the subclavian vein to form the innominate vein. He gave the signal they’d been anxiously waiting for.

Dr. Edwards collected the blood samples containing the tumor remnants, nanobots and the two metal filaments, each less than one millimeter thick and two millimeters long. “Later, I’ll check to make certain the procedure caused no brain damage. But so far the scans look good.”

The entire process had required only twenty minutes, a half-hour less than the first time they’d done it. They cleaned up the scanning room and the control room, and had the body moved to the clinic’s cold storage area. Then the team went to the conference room.

Dr. Edwards put the MARETS scans of the three cadavers on the table around which they all sat. He flicked the ash off the end of his cigarette and looked at Claire with raised eyebrows and a big smile. “‘Good on ya’, Claire, your concept seems to be working beautifully.”

Claire beamed at him. “Thanks. But it was as much Kamal’s idea as mine.”

Dr. Edwards tousled Kamal’s hair and patted his shoulder. “I’d say we just completed the final test,” he said.

“It’s too bad we did not have time to test MARETS with LASER modules and compare the results with the X-ray modules,” Kamal speculated.

“There will be time for that after this immediate danger is over,” The bioengineer replied before he turned to Bhagwant. “Well, even with MARETS working as planned, it would not have been enough were it not for the nanobots you created.” He gave Bhagwant a mock salute. “That was a ‘bonzer’ piece of engineering. Absolutely brilliant.”

“Thanks be to the latest developments in nanotechnology from the universities and companies like Nanotech,” Bhagwant said. “I will enter this on the foundation’s web page set up for this purpose. Notifications will automatically be texted to everyone.”

“It was good Yuriko’s father got that job at Nanotech,” Kamal commented. “Their latest research really helped us.”

“I guess this Thursday will go down in the medical books,” the neurologist said, “if not in the history books.”

The bioengineer shook his head. “We still haven’t figured out exactly how those filaments work.”

“One thing about them truly amazes me,” the neurologist said. “How the transmitter in the tracking device is powered by the energy from the body’s own internal processes.”

“Our own scientists aren’t too far from these developments,” Claire said. “A group at UCLA did pioneering work over two dozen years ago in the miniaturization of heart valves which operate on biological energy.”

“Right,” Kamal added. “Particularly the pediatric cardiologist Daniel Levi and an aerospace engineer named Greg Carman.”

Dr. Edwards speculated a little. “You know, I’ll bet the aliens attached the tracking device to the left occipital horn because they thought it wouldn’t be detected, and we’d be unable to remove it if we did detect it.”

“Won’t they be surprised?” Claire said.

“From all indications,” the bioengineer asserted, “the effect of the concentrated x-ray beams disabled the tracking devices. From our measurements of the energy used to power them, their output must be pretty weak.”

“I’ve been considering it,” Bhagwant said. “The aliens must have placed relays in various locations within each of the common abduction zones Henri identified. The relays would enhance and re-transmit the signal farther.”

“We should mention that to someone in the operations committee,” Dr. Edwards said. “Maybe they can come up with a way to locate those relays and disable them as well.”

“I’m glad we had a chance to analyze the remnants of the tumor from the previous two bodies,” the neurologist said. “The synthetic fatty tissue the aliens used to encase the tracking device is a perfect substitute for myelin and doesn’t cause an autoimmune reaction. We’ll be able to make good use of that technology.”

Bhagwant looked up from the computer screen on which he’d continued to enter notes. “MARETS can dissolve tumors elsewhere in the body. It’s mostly a factor of which radiation modules are needed to target the tumor.”

“We’ll have to apply for patents,” the bioengineer said. “There’s heaps of bread to be made in selling MARETS to hospitals all over the world, and in the maintenance contracts. Even if we split profits with the universities and pay royalties to Nanotech for use of its patented processes, we and the foundation stand to make a fortune.”

“We’ll make sure Dr. Murphy is fully up-to-date on our progress,” Dr. Edwards added. “It won’t be long before we’re ready to implement MARETS in the other clinics so we can remove the tracking devices in the children and their families, and relocate them.”

“This calls for a ‘coldie’ to celebrate,” the bioengineer said. Then he looked at the children. “Well, no beer, but maybe a ‘chokkie’ for you three.”

Anna Burgio had just finished dinner with her parents, Carla and Gino. They were sitting in the living room of their comfortable manufactured home in the Holley Heights Residential Park in Holley, NY.

Anna wiped the tears from her eyes. “Daddy, I can’t do it. It’s not right!”

“Damn it!” Gino exclaimed, raising his voice. “It’s not for me, it’s . . . it’s for all of us. You gotta—”

“Gino, don’t yell at her!” Carla interrupted. She turned to Anna. “Go to your room. I’ll talk to your father.”

After Anna left, Carla drew Gino down to sit on the couch next to her.

“Why won’t you take the job the foundation offered?” Carla asked.

Gino shook his head. “It’s not as good as the manager job here . . . if Anna would only use her power to make Mr. Merryman give it to me.”

“But, lover, we’re movin’ to Washington anyway so Anna can be with the others.”

“No, we hafta stay here. Anna can keep goin’ to the school in Rochester. It’s been good for her, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, but Dr. Pacheco’s already left and she’s been helping Anna so much. We gotta go.”

Gino shook his head and struck the arm of the couch with his fist. “No. I don’t know nobody there. Our families are here, our roots are here.”

“You stay if you want, Gino. Anna and me are leavin’ soon as they tell us to.”

“You won’t make it without me, Carla. You’ll see.”

“We will. Maybe you’ll come to your senses. I hope you do. I’ll make us some coffee. Let’s just relax for awhile and watch TV.”

Anna couldn’t help listening to her parents’ conversation. They were loud enough so using her telepathy was unnecessary. It’s my fault, Anna thought. They’re going to break up because of me. Anna went to the phone in her room and quietly placed a call.

The cell phone rang only twice and Anna began talking rapid fire, before hearing a “hello”. “Dr. Pacheco, my dad won’t leave here. I don’t know what to do. My folks are going to split up if my mom and I leave. It’s all my fault.”

“Anna, listen to me. First of all, it’s not your fault. You cannot help who you are. Do you remember I had several counseling sessions with your parents before I left Rochester?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Your father needs to continue therapy to help him overcome his feelings of inferiority. Most of all, he needs to stop feeling sorry for himself, go back to school to improve his skills, and take responsibility for himself. You and I have discussed this before.”

“Yes,” Anna replied. “I know. I just don’t want to see them unhappy. He’s still pushing me to help him get the promotion.”

“If you want, I’ll call and talk with him. If he stays there, I’ll recommend another therapist to him. Maybe with help, he can change his attitude and join you and your mother later. It’s up to him, you know. Don’t let him bully you into doing something unethical.”

“I won’t, Dr. Pacheco.”

“Good. You and your mother are still coming here, aren’t you?”

“We are.”

“Have you enrolled in graduate school yet?”

“Yes. I’m going straight for a doctorate in entomology. The social behavior and communications among insects is especially interesting. It was a difficult choice though; all animal behavior interests me.” Anna squinted in concentration. “I don’t know, maybe get a masters in that along the way, even if it delays my doctorate.”

Karen Pacheco chuckled. “Just don’t overdo it.”

“I’ll try not to. Thanks for listening, and your advice. See you soon.”

“You’re very welcome, my dear Anna.”

For two months, the foundation worked with a select group of fifteen private clinics and imaging centers around the world to install the MARETS modifications to their CT scanners. The infrastructure and staffing of the schools were more than sufficient to handle the relocation of the children and their immediate families. Everything was ready for disabling the tracking devices and the coordinated relocation.

On July 13, Captain Mack Wallace joined Dr. Dennis Murphy, Assistant Treasury Secretary Gerald Madden, and the six children who had met with President Judith Wharton in May. Once again they were in the Oval Office with the president and her chief of staff. This time, however, the national security adviser was not included.

Following Mack’s direction, the children used telepathic hypnosis to have the president turn off the recorder that had been running and prepare an order for a top secret DIA operation. It directed the commander of Area 51—the secret facility in Nevada spread out for miles along the border with Utah—to release to Mack the bodies of Admiral teDanon’s father and his two crewmates, who had been recovered from the 1977 SW Ohio crash site.

President Wharton gave the order to Mack without making copies. She then called the director of the DIA, informed him Mack was on a special top secret assignment and said to provide him with whatever he needed. Afterward, the president called the Area 51 base commander and told him to expect Mack to arrive on July 19 carrying orders which were to be followed without question. Before they left, the children gave the president and her chief of staff false memories of the meeting, as they had done the previous May.

Through the DIA, Mack requisitioned a small cargo aircraft from Andrews Air Force Base and arranged for it to be fueled, crewed and ready for takeoff in the early morning on the nineteenth of July. Two members of the foundation’s operations committee, a lieutenant in the Air National Guard and a retired master sergeant in the army, volunteered to join Mack on what was designated Operation Hijack.

On Monday, July 19, Mack and his two conspirators wore civilian clothes when they met Gerald Madden outside the Treasury Building. He drove them in his van to Andrews AFB and dropped them near the main gate. Mack checked them in under his DIA cover, and they were driven to the aircraft already on the flight line. They boarded, met the crew and, after a short wait, the pilot taxied to the runway and took off at 6:00 a.m. The aircraft’s three-man crew knew only that they were to ferry the three men and to pick up and deliver top secret cargo.

The plane landed just before seven a.m. local time, at Area 51. Mack checked in with the base commander. The bodies were loaded into an environmentally controlled section of their plane and flew out. After a 10:30 a.m., local time, arrival at Hickam Air Force Base in Hawaii, Mack and the others transferred their cargo to a truck rented by a local foundation associate in the Air National Guard.

Following an eight minute drive to Honolulu International Airport, they loaded everything on board a plane chartered using false cover identification. Within forty-five minutes, they had clearance and were ready for takeoff, departing at 11:45 a.m. Honolulu time. Back at Hickam, the pilot and co-pilot had switched seats and gone through a preflight check while the aircraft was refueled; then they returned to Andrews AFB.

After flying twenty plus hours and ten thousand two hundred and fifty miles they landed at six forty-five in the afternoon, local time, on July 20 at a small airport outside Sydney, Australia. Two hours after sunset, and by the light of the rising full moon and a few airport lamps, they unloaded their cargo. Mack thanked the aircraft’s captain and told her she was free to return to Hawaii.

Ten minutes passed before their newly purchased Beechcraft King Air turboprop taxied over. After stowing the cargo onboard, they received permission to take off. An hour and a half later they landed at a small private airfield they’d leased outside of Collie, New South Wales, Australia.

The town of fewer than five thousand people was situated on Oxley Highway, some two hundred and fifty miles northwest of Sydney in the sparsely populated outback. Under a bright full moon and portable lights, they transferred the alien bodies to a refrigerated container next to their hangar.

As the aircraft was moved into the hangar, four people came out from the modest airport office adjacent to the hangar and greeted them. They went back into the office where each of them poured a cup of strong coffee and settled down in the lounge area to wait for the crucial events to unfold.

On Wednesday, July 21, 2027 shortly after dawn, the children and their immediate families began to be processed through the fifteen clinics and imaging centers where the MARETS modifications had been installed. In the days before, each altered child and their immediate family who did not live nearby, had made their way to a hotel near their designated facility, assisted by the foundation staff as needed.

As the tracking devices were disabled and removed, the children and their families were taken in groups to airports where charted aircraft waited to fly them to the cities nearest to their assigned schools.

Without knowing each other existed, Jagathi Servai and Eduardo Velêz had each used the same ploy. A combination of money and mind control was all it took to enlist a married couple to act as their parents and take them to the nearest imaging facility. Those facilities, like all the others, were under a lot of pressure and everyone felt rushed.

It was not a problem for either of them to check in, get processed and have their tracking devices removed. The doctors and technicians were no match for their mind control techniques. In no time at all, they were processed, had melted away into the crowd and then disappeared. Record-keeping in those feverish conditions was not ideal. When it was noticed that these children and their families had checked in but not checked out, it was assumed they had just been missed. After all, speed was their top priority.

The lead tracking officer on the Rostvar Cluster glanced at the screen. It showed the status of the tracking devices in the Jerithan children and their parents. He quickly sat down at the console and ran a few checks. With a worried expression, he contacted Admiral teDanon. “Sir, we have lost contact with almost seven percent of the phased biotronic locators during the last hour.”

“An unusual number of PBLs to be failing, Major. Any idea as to the cause?”

“No, sir. I am running diagnostics now.”

“Keep me informed,” Admiral teDanon said, strumming his fingers on his desk. What is going on now? he wondered. The admiral poured another cup of stimbrew.

Dennis Murphy, Ramaraju Gupta, Karen Pacheco, Howard and Dorothy Starkey, and the parents of three other children were sitting nervously in the conference room at the Discovery Bay school getting reports by phone, e-mail, and by telepathy through Jason and Peter Starkey and Yuriko Nishikawa. Rama was charting their progress on his computer as the information was given to him.

“It’s been two hours. Where are we now, Rama?” Dennis asked.

“We’re at nearly fourteen percent.”

“At this rate how long should it take?” Howard asked.

“Based on the optimum time of twenty minutes to process each person, it could take around twelve hours,” Rama replied.

Jason, Peter and Yuriko were concentrating on their telepathic communication with other children, but were also able to follow the conversations. Peter opened his eyes and looked at Rama. “But we added fifty percent to allow for problems and then projected eighteen hours.”

“True,” Rama said. “So, at the present rate it looks like it will take closer to fifteen.”

* * * * * * *

The beeping of his communicator jarred Admiral teDanon from his thoughts. He switched it on, noting it was from the lead tracking officer. “teDanon. What is the latest?”

“Sorry to bother you, Admiral,” the major said, “but another forty PBLs have dropped out of the network in the last hour.”

“And the diagnostics you ran?”

“Everything seems to be working as expected here and in all the satellite and planetary relays.”

Admiral teDanon put the cup of stimbrew on his desk roughly, splashing a little. “Speculate!” he demanded.

“It could be a quality control problem in the PBL’s manufacture.” The major thought for a moment and then added, “They have been operating for nine years with no significant problems, but none were tested for more than a few months and we do not know their life span with absolute certainty.”

“Yes, yes—that is true. Keep monitoring them and call me in half an hour.” The admiral disconnected. What the brach! Jerithans may have become aware of the children and the project may have been seriously compromised.

“God damn it!” Rama exclaimed. “Sorry, excuse my language, but two MARETS units have broken down.”

“God help us,” Karen said. “We don’t need something like this to happen now.”

“Can they be repaired?” Dennis asked.

“They’re trying,” Rama replied. “The Swiss team said they think they identified their problem and should be back in operation in a half-hour.”

Howard stopped pacing and hung his cane over the back of his chair. “How long should we give it before we transfer those who are waiting to be processed to a different facility?”

“We can’t overload those facilities,” Dennis said. “But let’s give repairs a maximum of two hours before getting the people moved somewhere else.”

Karen stepped behind Dennis’ chair and put a hand on his shoulder. “At least some of the facilities are operating at near optimum rates.”

“Yes, we can be grateful for that,” Dennis said.

Once again, the major buzzed Admiral teDanon. “Admiral, the PBLs are continuing to fail at about the same rate as before.”

“Thank you, Major. It is time we took action. I will be in SCC. Contact me there with updates, and establish an open line with them.” Admiral teDanon rose from his chair, shook his head and looked in the mirror, regarding the slightly orange cast of his skin—a sign of his frustration and nervousness. He called the shuttle command center, ordered them to ready the two shuttle squadrons assigned to the areas now on the night side of Earth, then left his quarters.

Seven and a half hours into the operation. All the MARETS machines were in full operation. Half the tracking devices had been disabled and removed, and the children and families were on their way to the airports or in the air en route to Morisset, New South Wales in Australia; Mohrane in northern Morocco or Port Townsend, Washington in the United States. Then, half an hour later, another of the MARETS machines stopped working.

Dr. Murphy rose and glanced at everybody. “We can’t wait any longer. Let’s get the families at that clinic moved to whichever clinics are closest to them and making the most progress.” When everyone concurred, he emailed the instructions and followed up by phone.

“It’s a shame a few children are still out there who we couldn’t get to,” Howard said.

Peter shook his head slowly. “More than a few. Don’t forget that bunch of Chinese kids we weren’t able to reach and the ones who didn’t make it to Taiwan.”

“Yes, and also those problem kids we couldn’t convince to join us,” Yuriko added.

“Just consider how lucky we’ve been so far,” Jason said. “We’re on schedule and nobody’s been injured by those malfunctions.”

“How soon before the shuttles reach their assigned pickup points?” Admiral teDanon asked.

“One hour, give or take,” Shuttle Group Commander kaAshlo replied.

“Admiral, we have now lost contact with all but thirty-two PBLs,” the major said. “Only twenty-three are in their expected locations.”

Admiral teDanon gripped the arms of his chair tightly. “Major, pass Commander kaAshlo the coordinates of the still active locators. Commander, send enough shuttles to the last known locations of the inactive PBLs on the night side to find out what is happening there. And the rest of the shuttles whose assigned locators have been lost . . . keep them in reserve.”

Howard and Dorothy Starkey were on a settee holding hands as Howard took a sip of coffee. Izumi Nishikawa sat next to them holding a cup of tea in both hands. Dennis paced the floor while Rama was seated at the computer watching their website page where check marks appeared one by one in front of the names of the clinics and imaging centers where their assigned children and families had been fully processed and their relocation begun. Jason, Peter and Yuriko were sitting in chairs, their faces etched with looks of concentration.

“We did it,” Rama announced when a check mark appeared in front of the name of the last facility. “They’re all finished. The Malaysian facility had a close call. They were finished and leaving just as they saw a canister appear out of thin air and begin to spray a gas. They beat it out of there as fast as they could.”

“What about the Aussie team?” Dennis asked. “Heard anything from them yet.”

“Nothing yet,” Rama answered. “Mack will call as soon as he knows something.”

Jason opened his eyes wide. “I just lost contact with Brittany. She said she was feeling dizzy and then I couldn’t reach her again.”

After a minute or so, Peter looked around the room and nodded. “Steven just told me the children took control of two aliens in Brittany’s house.”

Yuriko took Jason’s hand and held it tightly. “Gordon said the aliens used a kind of gas and it put Brittany to sleep.”

Following a brief interval, the children smiled. Peter made a fist and pumped his arm. “Yes!!!” he exclaimed.

“Claire just reported they have control of the spacecraft,” Yuriko said with a big grin on her face.

“Ellie reports only three crewmen,” Peter said, “including the two who entered the house. They should be landing at Collie in a few minutes.”

Claire had given the shuttle’s pilot landing information, and he immediately zoomed to an altitude of 100 miles, into the mesosphere, above the practical limit of lidar and radar detection. Then he switched on Active Stealth Mode before their descent for landing.

“Status, Commander kaAshlo?” the admiral requested as he paced the floor in the shuttle command center.

“Sir, shuttles SC1, SC2 and SC4 each picked up three of the five children assigned to them. Shuttle SC3 has two children and SD2 has one child. SD1 is the only one with all five children.”

Admiral teDanon kept his temper under control with difficulty. “That is only, . . . hmm . . . seventeen out of two hundred fifty-one, not including those poor nine children in whom we induced heart attacks and the four killed during their escape attempt.”

“My God!” the retired army sergeant exclaimed. “Look there.” He pointed to the sky. The shuttle the children had hijacked just became visible flying over the nearby hills.

Mack and the others watched it grow in size as it approached the airport. Soon it hovered above the tarmac in front of the hangar and began settling down. “Interesting design,” the Air National Guard lieutenant noted. “Looks a little like the top half of a football, but a little wider across and slightly truncated at the rear.”

“And roughly the length of an eighteen-wheeler,” Mack added. “Let’s get those children into the hangar and take care of them. I’ll call Discovery Bay.” Five portable MARETS machines had been set up to process the children as quickly as possible.

Rama snatched up the phone at the first ring tone. “Fantastic!” He replaced the handset, stood and stretched. “That was Mack. The spacecraft just landed and is being moved into the hangar right now. Everyone is fine.”

For almost half an hour, everyone in the room was quiet, reading, dozing, or contemplating the events of the last few days and what was to come. Then the phone rang again, causing everybody to jump. Once again, Rama grabbed it.

“Mack again. The children have been processed and their tracking devices are removed and disabled. It turns out those spacecraft are fitted with their own tracking devices—a type of transponder—and the pilot turned it off under the direction of the children. The bodies of the aliens Mack got from Area 51 are being loaded.”

Ten minutes went by before they heard anything else. “Steven just told me Mack and the others have joined them on board,” Peter said. “They’re getting ready to take off.”

Another six minutes and Yuriko spoke up. “Claire says they’re out of the atmosphere and are returning to what the aliens call their spacecraft carrier.”

“Well,” Dennis said, “the first stage is complete. It’s a tremendous risk they’re taking.”

“I hope they all stay safe and nothing happens to them,” Dorothy murmured.

“They are so brave to do this,” Izumi added.

Rama yawned. “So, now we wait again.”

“Admiral,” Commander kaAshlo said, “They lost contact with Shuttle SD1 and the PBLs of all the children it was assigned to pick up.”

“Where was the last point of contact?” Admiral teDanon asked.

“Within its assigned pickup area, sir.”

“Divert two shuttles to search for it.”

“Yes, sir.”

Approximately twenty minutes passed before the Commander looked up from her console. “Admiral, the SD1’s transponder is back on. It has left the atmosphere and appears to be on its way back.”

“Raise the pilot,” Admiral teDanon said. “I want to speak with him.”

Less than a minute later, Shuttle SD1’s pilot was on the communicator. “Lieutenant, this is Admiral teDanon. What the brach happened down there?”

“Sir, we picked up all five children, but they are all awake. They want to talk to you as soon as we return to the carrier.”

“Why was your transponder off?” Admiral teDanon asked.

“I am not certain, sir. And the children say . . . uh . . . they say they have something to return to you. Please meet us in the hangar deck at our lockdown berth.”

Admiral teDanon rolled his eyes. “Return, what are they returning? That makes no sense. Find out what they . . . hello . . . hello.”

“Admiral,” Commander kaAshlo said, “their communicator is off.”

“Recall all the shuttles. I will be in my quarters. Let me know when the SD1 makes its approach.” Admiral teDanon rose and strode to the door. He stopped before exiting and turned around. “Oh yes. Commander, tell Commander geWaxted to meet me at SD1’s berth with a medical team. And have a security squad there too.”

Shuttle SD1 entered the spacecraft carrier’s landing bay and slowly moved to its assigned berth using its maglev engine. Commander geWaxted had arrived a few minutes earlier with the medical team, just after the security squad positioned themselves around the berth. Admiral teDanon followed twenty seconds later. They watched the shuttle move into position. Four stanchions extended noisily beneath the shuttle. The berth’s locking clamps engaged the shuttle’s couplings, at the foot of each stanchion.

Minutes dragged on. Hangar D was quiet except for sounds of feet shuffling on the deck. The lieutenant commanding the shuttle completed the post-flight systems check, and opened a communication channel to Admiral teDanon. “Sir, in addition to the five children, three adult Jerithans are here. As I reported before, they want to talk with you and . . . they have something to return to you.”

“Do you know what it is?” the admiral wanted to know.

“No, sir. But it appears to be three body bags.”

“Well, Lieutenant, have them come out here.”

The children had decided to defer to Mack Wallace to be their spokesman instead of speaking to the admiral telepathically. Without sufficient practice on his part, whatever they thought to him would appear to the admiral as his own thoughts and could be stressful. Also, they believed it would be easier for the admiral to deal with adults rather than children, especially since the adults had changed into their military uniforms before boarding the shuttle. Mack tapped the lieutenant on the shoulder. “Lieutenant, please translate for me.”

“Admiral, one of the adults wants to say something. I will translate for you. He says ‘I am Mack Wallace, a captain in the United States Navy. We have taken a big risk in coming here, but we believe it would have been a bigger risk to all of us if we did not come. At this point, we prefer that you come inside, and please come in alone.’ Sir,” the lieutenant added, “you would have very little protection aboard the shuttle.”

Admiral teDanon shrugged his shoulders, cut the communication channel to the shuttle and turned to the lieutenant in charge of the security squad. “Lieutenant, prepare your squad in case you have to force your way into the shuttle. But do nothing unless I sound the alarm.” He showed the lieutenant the transmitter he held in his hand with the dead-man switch depressed. “If everything is all right, I will let you know and turn off the transmitter.”

“Admiral, I advise against going in alone,” the security lieutenant said.

“Thank you, Lieutenant, but I believe I will be safe.” Admiral teDanon buzzed his executive officer, Captain Borgo geMilot. “XO, you know what to do if anything happens to me.” He opened communications with the shuttle once again. “Lieutenant, open the hatch and I will enter—alone.”

The hatch lowered beneath the shuttle revealing a short gangplank which the admiral climbed cautiously. As he entered, Admiral teDanon saw the five children standing in front of the entrance to the storage locker. Three adults from Earth were lined up at the right of the hatch. The shuttle’s crew was lined up at the left side. All but the children stood at attention.

When the admiral was inside, the Human adults and shuttle crew saluted sharply—each according to its own military tradition. Though different in form, the admiral recognized the Human’s salute for what it was. He returned the salute. This was not what I had expected, he thought.

“At ease,” Admiral teDanon said. Mack saw the shuttle’s crew relax, repeated the order in English and the three Humans also stood at ease.

The shuttle’s commander stepped out of line. He introduced Mack and the other two military men to Admiral teDanon. The lieutenant then beckoned Claire forward. “Admiral, one of the children wants to say something to you.” He stepped back into line.

Claire came up to Admiral teDanon. “Admiral, before we get into a discussion, we have something for you.” She took his hand and started to lead him to the storage locker entrance.

“Wait a moment,” Admiral teDanon said, stopping in his tracks and staring at Claire with a look of surprise on his face. “You speak Silkaran! How did you learn to speak our language?”

“All in due time, Admiral. Suffice it to say, we children learn very quickly.” She continued to pull him along with her.

They entered the storage locker and Admiral teDanon could see three body bags. “What is this all about?” he asked.

“Admiral, these are the bodies of the three crewmen who died in their spacecraft crash on our world twenty years ago.” Claire pointed to one of the bodies. “We believe this may be your father’s body. We want to return them to you for a proper military service and burial, however you wish to handle it.”

Admiral teDanon felt light-headed and put his hand against the bulkhead to steady himself, almost releasing the dead-man switch. “Why . . . why did you . . . bring them to me?”

“Despite the fact you executed four of us almost exactly one year ago during their escape attempt,” Claire said and then pointed to Mack, “one of whom was the son of Captain Wallace, we all decided it was the right thing to do.”

Admiral teDanon knelt down and looked into Claire’s eyes. “I do not know what to say. Right now I feel ashamed.” He rose to his feet and slowly made his way to where Mack stood. “Captain, I am at a loss for words. You all have shown a level of compassion none of us could expect—and possibly do not deserve.”

Mack looked at the shuttle’s commanding officer. He nodded his head and started to translate the comments between Mack and the admiral, unaware one of the children was also doing so to ensure an accurate translation. “Admiral, the deaths of those four children was a terrible loss for their families, mine included. Thanks to those brave children who died, we have learned something of your Operation Pacify. Through them we know you have had some misgivings about—”

“Misgivings? Through them? The children?” Admiral teDanon stared at the children.

“We want to sit down with you and whomever else you would like to include, so we can answer each others’ questions . . . and discuss this operation of yours—its justifications and its ramifications.”

“I will arrange a meeting for whenever you wish,” Admiral teDanon declared. “Would you object if I communicate with the security squad outside so I can tell them to stand down?”

“We would be most grateful if you did, Admiral,” Mack said with a smile.

Admiral teDanon instructed the security squad to stand down and informed Captain geMilot that everything was under control and he was having a highly productive discussion with the Jerithans. He turned off the transmitter and released the dead-man switch.

“Captain Wallace, do you represent your planet or any of its governments?”

“No, Admiral, we have no official capacity. As part of our discussion, we would like to work out how best to involve our governments.”

“May I ask, Captain, how did you take control of the shuttle?”

“Please, Admiral, may we leave that for later? Right now, we need to return to Earth to inform our people and these children’s parents that we are all right. Then, I and other representatives of our organization can return here with several of the children for our meeting.”

“Completely acceptable, Captain. We will remove the bodies you brought back to us and relieve this crew so they can get a well-deserved rest. Then, once the shuttle is checked out and ready to fly, you will be taken to wherever you want to go.”

“Thank you, Admiral,” Mack said. “How will we contact you to tell you we are ready to meet again?”

“I will ensure you are given a communicator so we can arrange a time for you to be brought here for the meeting. Please, do not wait too long. I have been ordered to return to my home planet to review with my superiors the problems we have had with Operation Pacify. I must leave in five of your days, and would like to present them with information from our meeting with you.”

“Admiral, please schedule the meeting for early morning, three days from now,” Mack urged him. “I will give you the exact time for the pick-up in two days. We would like to arrive early enough to get a few hours sleep before the meeting. Can you arrange it?”

“Yes, I will handle it. We know enough about your physiology to know you can eat our food. But in case you do not like ours, bring some of your own.”

Claire motioned to get their attention. “Sir, are Human children currently on your shuttles or already on board.”

“As a matter of fact,” Admiral teDanon answered, “twelve other children were taken recently, and I will verify if more are aboard.” Two of them were from institutions in India and Indonesia and had been identified by altered children. The foundation, however, hadn’t been able to get them released into its care. Two who’d never been identified were from India and the Philippines. The last eight children lived in Mainland China.

Claire stood up straighter and again clasped the admiral’s hand. “Can you please show us a map of the areas where the children were taken from?” Admiral teDanon led them to the console and displayed a map.

Claire directed him to pan the map to China and pointed to the area. “Before we leave, could we meet with the three children you have from this area.”

“Yes, I can arrange it,” Admiral teDanon said. “Will you tell me why?”

“We need your help to relocate those children and their immediate families to the island here.” Claire indicated Taiwan. “It is necessary for their safety and will allow us time to properly prepare them for the program we have established.”

Admiral teDanon glanced around at the Humans. “All right, we will take care of it.”

Steven prodded the admiral. “Please make sure the other children are returned to where they were taken from and give us their precise geographical coordinates.”

“I will see to it,” Admiral teDanon promised.