Making the Galaxy Great

“I think they know we hitched a ride,” whispered McCauley. “You ready to do this?”

Without waiting for his answer, she walked toward the soldiers. Jason hunkered inside his hood, hiding as much of his face as he could and looking downward. He heard a voice, speaking in some strange, half-whispered tongue. It took him a couple of seconds to realize that it was McCauley.

Oh my God, she speaks Yrrean.

One of the soldiers pointed to his ears and shook his head, then spoke with exaggerated volume: “What? I don’t understand. English?”

McCauley was so hunched over trying to hide her breasts that her voice was aimed at the floor. Without looking up she said in scratchy, high-pitched English: “Two humans. Upper deck. Not . . . conscious.”

Jason grinned inwardly. She sounded authentic to his untrained ear and, apparently, to that of the soldiers. Three of them headed up the ladder to the upper deck. The fourth, the one who had spoken, turned toward the opening in the cargo bay and waved. Two men in bright yellow overalls entered the ship, followed by a woman driving a fork lift.

Jason walked toward the opening. His heart throbbed, his hands sweated, and he needed to pee. One of the overalled workers glanced at him and waved. Jason raised his hand in response, but as he did so he wondered: is that how an Yrrean would respond?

The worker returned to scanning crates with some sort of handheld device and Jason walked on, slowly, toward the open end of the ship, hoping McCauley was behind him. Out in the hangar, he realized that he had no idea where they were going now that they had actually made it into A-69.

“Left,” McCauley whispered. “Second door down.”

He veered toward the exit she’d indicated, trying to appear as if he’d been walking in that direction the whole time. Then a thought chilled his blood: if he or McCauley used their hands to activate any doors, the DNA scan would alert the authorities that they were in the facility.

McCauley stepped in front of him and began waving her hand, as they’d done on the ship to activate its doors.

“You have to touch it,” said an overalled worker a few feet away. He pantomimed placing his hand on the panel to the right of the door. McCauley pretended to still not understand. The man smiled behind his salt and pepper beard and walked over to open the door for them.

“Thank you,” McCauley whispered in her faux-Yrrean voice. Jason grinned under his hood.

Absolutely fucking brilliant.

McCauley led him quickly down a long hall. They made a right turn, then a left, then another left. As they rounded the corner, they nearly ran into two soldiers walking the opposite direction. Jason and McCauley nodded and kept walking. They were almost out of sight when Jason heard a beep and the soldiers stopped. One of them began talking, possibly on a phone.

Keep walking, Jason told himself. Keep walking.

But McCauley wasn’t taking chances. She grabbed Jason’s arm and began running. There was an elevator straight ahead. This time, McCauley didn’t hesitate to use her hand to activate the door.

Except that the door didn’t open. A tiny red light flashed on the control panel.

“Shit! They’ve locked us out.”

The soldiers ran up behind them, rifles aimed at Jason’s and McCauley’s heads. Jason held his breath. Were they about to be arrested, or simply shot?

“Pull back your hoods!” one of them said. Jason detected anxiety in his voice. He sounded young, probably younger than Evie.

McCauley said something in Yrrean.

“Hoods!”

Jason waited to see what McCauley would do. And waited. Finally she pulled back her hood and said: “Gerald, I led your orientation when you first got here. Remember?”

“Yes ma’am,” answered the soldier, continuing to point his gun at her. Jason could see perspiration all over the pale brown forehead under his helmet. He was just as nervous as they were.

“And I told you that you would see things you never thought you’d see, and there would be plenty none of us would understand.”

“You did. But I still have to take you in.” Jason noticed that Gerald did not come closer than about six feet. Perhaps he knew how formidable McCauley could be in hand-to-hand combat.

“Just take us to Colonel Williams,” said McCauley.

Gerald shook his head. “No ma’am, I can’t. The Colonel is no longer in charge of this facility. Orders are to take you and this guy upstairs and from there you’re going to Moredale.”

“What exactly is Moredale?” Jason whispered.

“It’s where you go to disappear,” McCauley replied. “It’s like Guantanamo, for US citizens.”

“Can they do that?”

Shelby’s face popped into Jason’s mind, and then she morphed into a collage of images — from her open-mouthed breathing as she slept in the crib to her mischievous smile when she teased him about Evie, and so much more in between.

“Who’s in charge now?” asked McCauley.

Gerald hesitated before answering. “Some guy from the NSA.”

Three more soldiers came running up the corridor. “And what about the Colonel?” said McCauley. “Where is she?”

“She’s being held in her office.”

“Held? And this seems right to you?”

Jason could feel McCauley’s will — and the logic of what she said — working its way on young Gerald.

“Agent McCauley, it’s not my decision.”

“We’ve been framed, Gerald. And I have proof. At least let me show it to the Colonel. And the guy from the NSA. Do you really want to send us to Moredale without even hearing the truth?”

Jason sensed that Gerald was wavering. What would he do if he were in Gerald’s shoes?

Slowly but firmly, McCauley continued: “We’re not armed, and there are five of you — oh, now there are six of you. And my partner here is a civilian, with a kid. You can tell he’s no threat. So if I try anything, I’m dead. And he’s dead. And his kid loses her father. And if the Colonel and the guy from the NSA won’t look at our evidence, we might as well be dead. I’m asking you to do what I would do for you: give me a chance to make my case.”

Gerald’s eyes narrowed. The sweat glistened on his brow. Finally, he sighed slowly and barked to his fellow soldiers. “Three behind, one on each side. Guns ready. The slightest move, take them out.”

Jason, without turning his head, murmured to McCauley: “I’m guessing ‘take them out’ doesn’t mean dinner and a movie.”