The Origin of F.O.R.C.E.

Two days after the attack at the YMCA pool, General Collier sat in his office at the Nevada desert facility looking across his desk at a seething Major Blunt. Blunt’s suspicions about the treachery of Collier’s aide, Corporal Adams, had startled Collier. The background checks on Adams and his work history with the Pentagon had been flawless. Nevertheless, he was the only person with knowledge of the YMCA meeting other than Collier. A plan to control information flowing to Adams had been put in place. The only thing Adams knew was Blunt, Hoffman and Whatsit had not reported back since their scheduled meeting in Carlisle, and the General was worried.

“Sir, Adams must be put under constant surveillance tracking his every move and communication.”

“Already done, Major. All his movements are being monitored, and every phone call recorded. I’m having his typewriter ribbon analyzed daily to see what he types in all correspondence. Every person who speaks to him is added to the watch list and put under surveillance. Every room in his apartment is being observed 24 hours a day through the walls and ceiling. If he sneezes, I’ll know about it.”

Jim relaxed. Leaning back, he gazed at the ceiling for a few seconds. Then he declared, “We need to press forward without delay on two fronts.”

Collier offered no comment. Blunt was a first-rate military strategist. Best to let him talk out the problem and compile a solution rather than interrupting his chain of thought.

Pausing as he structured his plan of action, Jim declared, “We have to tell Adams the attack was successful. Blunt and the alien were killed in an ambush. Hoffman is clinging to life at the Nevada facility.”

When there was no disagreement from Collier, Jim continued, “Adams will contact the zealots to advise them. He’ll demand an audience with the head poohbah to collect whatever reward was promised him. If I’m the head poohbah and my killers have failed to report success, then I’ll suspect something is wrong and the only person who can tie my group to the ambush, Adams, must be eliminated. I will not permit the man to expose my involvement. Allowing him to visit my headquarters is out of the question. I will use Adams’ ego and avarice to lure him to a location where he can be killed without any possible connection to my group or me.”

Collier leaned forward, clasped his hands and replied, “Sounds reasonable to me. These zealots are now a demonstrable threat to National Security. My solution is to place them all in front of a firing squad and send them to their just reward. Do we need any information from whoever the head poohbah turns out to be?”

“We must take whatever steps are necessary to contain the Intel released by Adams. That means we have to keep him alive long enough to interrogate him about what he revealed and to whom he revealed it. We both understand the importance of our duty to protect and save humanity. Our mission can’t be derailed by an angry mob of misinformed and prejudiced idiots hiding behind robes of faith,” Jim declared.

Nodding, Collier replied, “I’ll inform Corporal Adams immediately of your death. With me out of town, he should feel confident enough to initiate contact with his friends.”

Leaning back, Collier inquired, “You mentioned two fronts. What’s the second?”

“We need to have a meeting with our team to review progress reports and make plans for future action. Is everyone here in Nevada?” Jim asked.

“Yes they are. I’ll arrange it for first thing in the morning.”

***

The conference room at the Nevada desert facility was unusually quiet when Blunt and Collier strode through the door. The news of Tom LeBlanc’s death had weighed on everyone, and out of respect for the man, an empty chair sat at the table in his honor. Whatsit wasn’t present as a security precaution. They couldn’t let the alien lizard know the details of their emerging plan for defense of the Earth. Jim took a chair beside Diane.

The room was just large enough to seat eight people around an oblong wooden table. It was a no frills, utilitarian space without windows. All the walls were painted a drab green with no artwork or framed photographs to break the monotony. The overhead fluorescent lighting was almost too bright for comfort.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, the purpose of this meeting is to determine the current status of your experiments and work to date, discuss future plans and make any decisions necessary to fulfill those plans. I know the death of Captain Leblanc has hit all of us very hard, but let me assure you he’d want us to proceed with our operations. I dare say his death accentuates the need to press onward toward our goal of saving humanity from the Chrysallaman threat,” Collier announced.

A murmur and several head nods confirmed everyone agreed with his assessment.

“Dr. Heinbaum, please tell us the status of your analysis of the alien tech. I understand a piece of your equipment was instrumental in saving the lives of Major Blunt, Dr. Hoffman and Whatsit during the Carlisle incident,” Collier said.

Heinbaum drew himself up like a rooster ready to crow. His close-set eyes appeared beady in the bright light of the overhead fluorescents, and he’d applied extra grooming oil to insure his slicked back hair would remain firmly in place. In fact, it looked like he had enough hair oil on him to grease the underside of a car.

“Yes, General, my research has been quite fruitful in the last several weeks. Not only have I learned the secret of the alien power storage device, I’ve successfully duplicated the heat ray.”

McPherson interrupted the tale with a snort and placed his hand on Heinbaum’s shoulder. The entire side of Heinbaum’s body appeared to bend under a massive weight, and a wince tightened across the doctor’s lips.

Jovially shaking the shoulder, McPherson said, “Now, Doc, you know it’s always best to commend your friends and co-workers for their contributions to your success.”

Blinking his eyes from the pain as pressure on his shoulder bones increased, Heinbaum nodded his head and blurted, “Yes, Lieutenant McPherson, you are so right. I would like to acknowledge the dedicated work of my assistant, Walter Cunningham and the keen insights of Lieutenant McPherson in helping me discover and test the design and theoretical concepts upon which the alien tech is built.”

Releasing his grip on the doctor’s shoulder, McPherson grinned and said, “Aw, Doc, thanks. You’re too generous with your praise.”

Rubbing his shoulder to help restore circulation, Heinbaum continued, “Yes, well, the individual power modules, or batteries, consist of a cohesive bubble of accumulated energy magnetically sealed within a container made from an unusual alloy of four rare metals and silver. Motes of energy are run through a filter during the charging sequence making them sticky, for lack of a better term. The sticky power motes then coalesce with each other, creating a bubble of highly concentrated power.”

Turning towards McPherson and nodding, Heinbaum admitted, “Lieutenant McPherson deduced the power module could be opened by a directed magnetic effect. I theorized that under the influence of a stronger magnetic field, the power module would become semi-pliable, enabling me to obtain a sample of its material. Once I had a good sample, I was able to deconstruct its molecular properties and duplicate it.”

Facing Collier, Heinbaum conceded, “The insights I have received as the result of my collaboration with Lieutenant McPherson have frankly been monumental. General, I reluctantly admit your decision to force this Scottish devil to work with me was both wise and shrewd.”

Without batting an eye, Collier commented, “I dare say my promise to transfer you to radiation poisoning research at Los Alamos if you refused to work with the Lieutenant was also wise and shrewd, wouldn’t you agree?”

The silent, quick nodding of the weaselly scientist’s head acknowledged the truth of the General’s statement.

McPherson slapped Heinbaum’s back with a powerful, friendly thump that threatened to bounce the man’s head into the table. Smiling broadly, he declared, “Yeah, the Doc and I are really close now. We spend a lot of quality time together. Right, Doc?”

Glancing at McPherson’s smirk, Heinbaum regained some of his swagger and continued his report. “Lieutenant McPherson came up with the idea for the heat ray device disguised as a common flashlight. He convinced me a weapon that doesn’t look like a weapon fools the enemy into thinking there’s no threat. No one would think twice about shielding himself from a flashlight beam.”

McPherson added, “Doc and I are working on reducing the size of the power modules so they can be fitted into smaller devices. For example, I envision a wristwatch-sized heat ray capable of melting a hole through half an inch of solid steel from a distance of 10 feet.”

“The real problem we have is generating the amount of power necessary to charge the core of the modules. It took 10 days and the amount of electricity required to power the City of Denver to charge the module for the flashlight,” Heinbaum explained. “We must duplicate the main power source of the flying saucer to have sufficient resources to quickly and continuously charge and recharge our modules. I believe the saucer power source is a fusion reactor. Further, I believe my breakthrough discovery of the substance used in the construction of the power modules is fundamental to duplicating the fusion reactor core. The substance is a perfect radiation shield.”

“What’s your time frame for a working fusion reactor, Dr. Heinbaum?” Blunt queried.

“I’m afraid the answer is years, not months. The underlying mathematical theories and equations for a sustained fusion reaction haven’t been conceived yet. I dare not attempt to open a working fusion reactor without a complete understanding of its fundamental principles.”

The sobering response brought everyone back to reality. Tom LeBlanc was dead, and although they could duplicate the alien power modules, they couldn’t charge the things in any meaningful quantity.

Collier knew it was time to change directions so he looked at Hoffman and said, “Dr. Hoffman, please report on your progress with the DNA sampling.”

Diane nodded. She’d decided to wear her hair down over her shoulders instead of in a bun of tight curls at the top of her head. She wasn’t wearing any lipstick or nail polish, and her dress was a gray color matching her mood. It was plain to everyone the death of LeBlanc and the unexpected violence during the Carlisle trip had taken its toll on her.

“I have all the DNA samples I need to begin my work. The mental and physical strengths I hoped to find have been verified and collected from willing donors with the help of Jim, I mean Major Blunt, and Dr. Smith and Lieutenant Jenson.”

Looking at Lucy and Mike, Diane nodded and said, “Thank you both for all your help. I hope the trip to Germany wasn’t too onerous.”

Lucy smiled back and peering at Mike, seated beside her, replied, “Oh, we had a wonderful time together. Even had a little spare time for some sightseeing.”

Mike moved his hand from his lap and surreptitiously laid it on Lucy’s thigh, looked at her with bright eyes and said, “Yes, they have some spectacular sights that are really one of a kind.”

As Lucy’s smile widened further, Collier cleared his throat and said with a wry smile, “Yes, we can see the trip wasn’t all drudgery. Glad you had some time to unwind. Dr. Hoffman, please continue.”

“My laboratory equipment at Johns Hopkins has been inventoried and upgraded where necessary, and I’m ready to begin my genetic analysis. My plan is to prepare an activated virus to splice my recombinant DNA into a live test subject. The genetic changes in the test subject will be monitored to determine the efficacy of my genetic engineering. If my live recombinant test is successful, then I will prepare a dormant virus to carry the new genetic codes into the general population. I anticipate my research and experimentation will take several years, perhaps up to a decade. Fortunately, if Major Blunt’s information from Whatsit is correct, we have more than enough time to do the necessary research, test and implement the results.”

Clasping her hands, Diane narrowed her eyes and a frown creased her forehead.

“I haven’t been able to think of a good way to administer my dormant virus into the general population. I remember our first major conference after we found out about the Chrysallamans.”

Nodding toward Jenson, Diane pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket and glancing at it, continued, “I remember what Mike said at the meeting. In fact, I wrote it down. He said the only explanation the government can give about an alien invasion won’t be believed. People will feel betrayed and scared if they think the government has dosed them with a drug altering their bodies. They’ll think the government has either poisoned them or turned them into monsters. People may take up arms and kill every government employee. There will be insurrection. Remember your description, Mike?”

Jenson nodded.

Diane continued, “So it has come time for us to decide how to administer my upgrades to the general population without making Mike’s prediction come true. Any ideas?”

Lucy decided to chime in. “My expertise is in Xenobiology. All my training and research proves there is one bedrock principle when dealing with Humans, let’s say a universal truth about Human psychology. The normal instinct for survival is strong. When faced with a threat, a Human will take extraordinary measures to protect itself and its loved ones. Humans want to remain alive even in the face of certain death.”

Letting her words sink in for a moment, she continued, “It is my opinion a biological threat must be used as the catalyst to drive everyone to the inescapable conclusion that to avoid the threat, they must be treated with a preventative medicine. Diane’s dormant virus will be the medicine.”

Jim cut in. “I don’t think a deadly disease is a good way of threatening the general population. You don’t want widespread panic.”

Jenson carried Jim’s logic a step further, “I agree with Major Blunt. The threat needs to be something causing an extreme debilitation but not necessarily death. It needs to be something which prevents people from enjoying their lives with just a remote possibility of death in extreme cases. Any suggestions?”

Heinbaum suggested leprosy, but Lucy told them only 5% of the world’s population was susceptible to catching it. McPherson wondered about tuberculosis, but it was finally agreed to rule out TB because if untreated, 50% of people died from exposure. The death ratio was too high. The group finally settled on polio. The disease appeared to meet all of their specifications. It was a worldwide threat. Of those infected, approximately 5% died, but around 50% were left with mild to disabling paralysis and deformity. Even President Roosevelt had contracted polio so it was a well-known debilitating malady.

“Are you suggesting,” Collier rumbled, “I go to the Joint Chiefs of Staff and advise them that for National Security Act purposes, the United States Government must infect its own citizens with a debilitating and perhaps deadly disease? I don’t think any of us would be around long if I did.”

Lucy raised her palm toward Collier and said, “I don’t think you understand the current status of polio in the United States, General. The incidents of polio infecting infants and children are becoming widespread. The medical community has already recognized the disease as a growing threat to the general population. The University of Pittsburgh School of Medicine has hired a guy named Salk to study the disease and try to develop a vaccine for it.”

McPherson signaled he wanted to comment, and Lucy nodded at him to go ahead. “I don’t want to sound like a fella with no college education, but why couldn’t we piggyback Dr. Hoffman’s dormant virus onto the vaccine for polio?”

“Brilliant!” Lucy gushed with a big smile and even Heinbaum looked at McPherson with a modicum of respect.

Diane considered the idea for a moment and nodded, “With the cooperation of the vaccine manufacturer, the piggyback idea could work.”

Collier was more calculating. “I’ll take steps to find out what drug manufacturers are selected to work with the university in Pittsburgh. I suspect the United States Government will take a keen interest in funding special research projects with those companies so when the time comes, there will be sufficient financial impetus for company management to adopt special government safety requirements in the manufacture of the vaccine.”

“Very clever, General,” complimented Heinbaum with a smirk. “Using the vast resources of the government to model behavior. If I didn’t know any better, I would say you’ve done that before.”

Staring at the man, Collier replied, “You might say that, Doctor. But if you ever repeat those thoughts again, let me assure you there is a radiation suit just your size waiting for you at Los Alamos.”

All the blood drained from the scientist’s face, and he broke eye contact with Collier.

Grinning at Heinbaum’s discomfort, McPherson said, “Doc, don’t worry. The weather is always warm and sunny in the desert. It’ll be like a constant vacation.”

A general murmur went around the table signaling everyone considered the meeting over and were making plans to leave. Heinbaum nervously shuffled some papers around in a folder lying on the table and pushed back.

Diane sat back with her arms crossed and said, “I have one more critical matter we must decide before I can begin my work on the recombinant sequences.”

Everyone at the table stopped moving. Collier replied, “All right, Doctor, you have our attention.”

“I need to know how my dormant virus will be activated.”

Seeing puzzled looks on the others’ faces, Diane explained, “Please understand my dormant virus will be just that, dormant. It won’t know when to activate. It won’t know when the alien invasion occurs. The virus will require an outside agent to switch it from dormant to active. Kind of an ‘on’ switch.”

Jim recognized the problem and said, “I hadn’t thought about that. She’s right. So we work the deal to inoculate a large portion of the population with Diane’s DNA retrofit. Even with her time frame for development, the virus will have to remain dormant for say 50 to 60 years and through at least two generations. How do we get it to work when it’s needed?”

Heinbaum snorted with disgust and declared, “It’s very simple. I’m surprised there even needs to be any discussion about it. We simply spray an activating chemical into the air. When it is breathed, it will be absorbed by the body and activate the virus.” Looking around the table with a smug smile, awed by his own genius, he continued, “The chemical can be applied by crop dusting airplanes and by tanker trucks spraying the chemical like a fog as they do to control mosquitoes in India.”

Jenson and Smith spoke at the same time, “Won’t work.”

Mike looked at Lucy with a smile and nodded, acknowledging she should take the lead in rebuttal. Directing her gaze at Heinbaum, Lucy explained. “Your gas idea won’t work for several reasons,” and she ticked off on her fingers as she listed them.

“The quantity of gas needed for a nationwide, or even worldwide, aerial campaign would be so large as to be impractical. Most people would hide from the spray in buildings just like they do now when the mosquito sprayers go through their neighborhoods. Everyone will think the spray is a poison. The logistics of gathering enough airplanes to spray all population centers would be virtually impossible to organize. It would take too much time for the spray equipment to be retrofitted onto the airplanes and tanker trucks.”

Heinbaum realized his gas idea was not going to be accepted, and the bitterness of rejection clung to him like a wet, cold blanket. Scowling at Lucy and Mike, he directed his ire at Lucy and muttered, “Ok, Miss Smarty Pants, what’s your brilliant idea?”

Shrugging, she answered, “I don’t have one yet. It’s a hard nut to crack. All I do know is the solution must have a widespread application. It needs to be something everyone is exposed to, and it can’t be perceived as a poison.”

McPherson decided he’d weigh in on the problem and said, “What about food? Everyone has to eat. All we have to do is provide a yummy food impregnated with the activating chemical. People eat the food and presto, the virus is activated.”

Mike responded this time. “Hate to continue to be a naysayer but the food idea has some of the same problems as the gas idea. The activating chemical would have to be stockpiled at all food manufacturers since a variety of foods would have to be dosed to insure everyone’s virus was activated. Even kosher foods would have to be dosed which brings into the mix a host of religious complications. Then there’s the time problem. Let’s say we have three month’s warning of the impending alien fleet arriving in Earth orbit. The selected foods would have to be treated and delivered for consumption to the general public. Right now, the normal delivery pipeline for food from the time it’s harvested, goes through manufacturing, is delivered to stores for distribution, sold to the public and then consumed is at least six months.”

Shrugging, Mike said, “We run out of time to activate the virus.”

Jim didn’t like the direction the conversation was taking, but he admitted to himself the activation of the virus was a thorny problem. He said, “I guess the same arguments against using food apply to using water as the delivery mode for the activator.”

Diane had been leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed, listening to the roundtable discussion. A frown etched across her forehead and her lips formed a grim line. When Jim mentioned water, her face brightened and she leaned into the table, slapping her hands palms down on the tabletop with a loud smack. “Water! Everyone drinks it every day. Everyone uses it to cook with, swim in, bathe in, wash their hands. Water is piped into every building in the United States. And 100% of it is treated with chemicals to make it safe to drink.”

Heinbaum’s smug appearance telegraphed his comment. “You have the same chemical problem as with the food. Storage of the chemical at every utility company. Dumping of the chemical into the water supply by willing plant operators who won’t be scared the stuff is poisonous. And here is something no one has thought of yet, the shelf life of the activating chemical. How often is the unused chemical going to have to be replaced over the years to keep it effective?”

A murmur of agreement swept around the table as Heinbaum finished speaking, but Diane was on a roll, and she didn’t back down. “Who said anything about some special chemical being needed as the activator? I say we use an existing chemical used for water treatment.”

Collier asked the obvious question. “You mean you can engineer the virus to activate in the presence of anything?”

“The short answer is yes. The longer one is the choice of activating chemical has to be both selective and thoughtful. The activator needs to be odorless and tasteless. We don’t want people to refuse the activator because it makes things smell or taste bad. It has to be something people aren’t generally exposed to in large quantities. For example, the activator can’t be something available to the public in large doses like vitamins. We don’t want the virus prematurely activated although some early activations may be inevitable. After all, we can’t see the future,” she paused, “at least not yet.”

Jim settled back and steepled his fingers as he considered the options his committee had. He hated to admit he didn’t have the education or experience to be of much help, but facts were facts. Shifting his eyes to Diane, he marveled at her enthusiasm for finding solutions to a problem he couldn’t begin to solve with his military background. It occurred to him he liked being with her, liked the way she pushed a stray blonde hair away from her face and the way she peered over the top of her glasses when she wanted to make a point.

His train of thought was interrupted as Heinbaum said, “Chlorine is the commonly used chemical in water purification, so what about it?”

Lucy had an instant response to his suggestion. Crossing her arms and leaning back, she replied, “I don’t think chlorine is the way to go. Have you ever gone to a swimming pool overdosed with chlorine by a pool attendant? You can smell the stuff in the air. It’s awful!”

Heinbaum declared with a self-satisfied smile, “I have never put one toe in a swimming pool. Everyone knows they’re nothing but a public urinal.”

Frowning at Heinbaum’s boorish attitude, Jim leaned forward and staring the weasel in the eyes said, “I have to agree with Dr. Smith. When my group entered the pool building in Carlisle, the chlorine smell was quite strong. If I understand Dr. Hoffman correctly, the activating chemical needs to be something commonly used but odorless and tasteless even when the dosage is increased enough to activate her virus.”

Heinbaum’s response was a snort. Looking with disdain around the table, he declared, “Then we’re back to square one. The only other chemicals used in drinking water are pH modifiers. Lowering or raising pH will either make the water more acidic or more alkaline, neither of which is safe or palatable to Humans.”

Lucy uncrossed her arms and sat up, a sly smile curling her lips. Her movement caught everyone’s attention, and all heads turned toward her. A smile broadened across her face as she declared, “It just occurred to me we have a new candidate.”

She continued, “The National Institute of Health published some studies several years ago about the beneficial effect of adding fluoride to drinking water. The chemical has the effect of reducing tooth decay. It’s odorless and colorless. As I recall, the study indicated one milligram per liter of water was an effective level.”

Diane responded, “I could craft a virus with fluoride as the activator, but the chemical has to be widely used in the Nation’s water supply, or we’re just spinning our wheels.”

Collier broke into the conversation. “What if the United States Government was to declare a nationwide official policy that fluoridation of water was recommended as a safe and effective standard of good health? I’m willing to bet a vast majority of utility systems would adopt the health policy and begin treating their water supplies.”

McPherson’s face split in a big grin. “You are a rogue, General. I think you may have some Scottish blood hidden in your family history.”

Frowning good-naturedly at the backhanded compliment, Collier replied, “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but seriously, anything we decide will have to be agreed upon by the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the National Security Council.

Pausing a moment, Collier declared, “We’ve been here almost three hours. Based on our discussions, I need to make a few phone calls. If no one has anything else to bring up at this time, I’d like to adjourn until tomorrow morning. Meet back here at 0800 hours.”

***

Braggu Bandulog felt the prickling heat of the midday sun on his body and considered the need to move into the shade. Lifting his head and looking around, he found himself lying on a sandy beach overlooking a quiet, waveless ocean under a burning sun. It felt like he was getting sunburned, and he tried to sit up but something unseen was holding him down. Straining as best he could, he gazed down his body to see what was restraining his arms and legs. What he saw forced a primal scream of fear to escape his lips, and he struggled to break free. His arms, chest and legs were covered with red and brown cooked skin. Monstrous white blisters formed a patchwork of cankers all over him, and the smell of burned meat filled his nose.

Screaming with a mixture of fear and overwhelming pain, Bandulog woke up. He realized he was in some kind of brightly lit room. He recognized IV bags hanging on poles near him and guessed he was in a hospital. His head, arms and legs were somehow restrained since his attempts to move were unsuccessful. An unreasoning claustrophobia surged within him, and he fought with all his mental strength to tamp down a rising wave of hysteria. The skin all over his body itched incessantly, but he couldn’t move to scratch himself. He recognized the sharp edge of pain throughout his body held back by powerful meds.

The door of the room opened, and a nightmare walked through it. A giant, green-skinned lizard with enormous coal-black eyes moved over to stand above him. Behind the monster came a man who looked familiar.

Jim was determined to wring answers from the killer he’d almost boiled alive. As he walked into the guarded holding cell where the man was being treated for the massive injuries he had suffered from the heat ray, Jim had to admit he was glad the man was so badly hurt. In a deeply buried recess of his mind where he hid his darkest thoughts and desires, Blunt wanted to take a gun and blow the guy’s brains out.

Whatsit, who was becoming more skilled at reading and understanding the focused thoughts of his Master, turned toward Jim and mentally projected, “Jim Blunt. The bad Human can be easily killed. If you tell me to kill him, I will do so instantly.”

Jim realized his mind was leaking dark emotions and immediately tamped down on his musings. Whatsit was always very literal in his interpretations of Human thought, and both Jim and Diane had learned they had to be starkly clear with their thoughts and emotions when communicating with him.

Turning to his alien friend, Jim shook his head no.

Bandulog’s eyes widened as the lizard and man stood over him. Struggling to force his drug-addled brain to work, he thought, “Obviously military. Square jaw. Muscular build. Oh yes, one of the soldiers he was supposed to kill. And the Beast! Now I remember.”

Moving around the hospital bed, Jim peered down at the dark-haired man and crinkled his nose at the putrid odor of burned, wasted flesh. His face like a mask with a wicked smile under narrowing eyes, Jim said, “You don’t look so good.” Seeing a worried look ghost across the man’s eyes, he added, “And the smell! Ugh! Like a swampy, moldy rot. Glad I don’t have to spend a lot of time in here.”

Recognizing the flash of uncertainty in the man’s eyes, Jim continued, “Docs aren’t sure you’re going to make it. And even if you do, you’re going to be sucking food from a straw and using a bedpan for a long time.”

The man’s eyes began to appear panicky again, just as they had when Whatsit first walked into the room, but Jim could tell that with an extreme effort, the guy gathered control of himself and calmed down. Jim admired the man’s strength of will. It wasn’t going to be easy to get information out of this one.

As planned, Jim pulled a notepad from his shirt pocket and acted like he was reading from a couple of pages. Shifting his gaze to the man in the bed, he said, “Let’s start with something easy. Why don’t you confirm your name?”

Silence was the only response.

Jim had interrogated Nazi soldiers who were fanatical, cold-blooded killers, so he knew how difficult it was to wring information from such depraved individuals. He could tell from the look in the prisoner’s eyes he wasn’t going to give up any meaningful intelligence. But Jim had a secret weapon at his disposal, and he was going to use it.

Turning to Whatsit, Jim prepared some specific thoughts and projected them to the alien. “Listen to this man’s thoughts when I question him. I want to know who his Master is. Describe his Master to me. Understand?”

Whatsit nodded his head in the signal he’d learned meant agreement. Narrowing his huge, black eyes, he focused his attention on the bedridden man.

Turning back to the prisoner, Jim appeared to consult the notepad again. Shifting his gaze away from the pad, he asked, “Why don’t you confirm the name of your boss.”

A look of resolve narrowed the man’s eyes and, again no sound left his lips. Jim turned toward Whatsit and lifted an eyebrow. Whatsit looked at him and projected a picture into his mind of a fat slug. The slug’s body undulated and as it moved, it left a trail of glistening slime.

Jim considered the mental picture and remembered how literal the alien was when he interpreted Human thought. The only logical conclusion was whoever the boss might be, in the injured man’s view, he was repulsive, fat and slimy. “Ok,” he thought. “Let’s run with that.”

Returning his attention to the man, Jim made a show of closing the notepad and stuffing it back into his shirt pocket.

“That’s ok. The big, fat, slimeball ratted you out as a rogue fanatic so I guess there’s no use wasting time trying to jail him when we’ve got you.” Pausing to let his lie sink in, Jim gestured for Whatsit, and they both turned to leave the room.

Just as Jim’s hand closed on the doorknob, he heard a croaking sound. Turning, Jim could tell that his notepad fabrication had some success. There was a look of angry determination in the bedridden man’s eyes, and his lips were trying to move.

“You got something to say?” Jim asked.

Returning to the bedside, Jim leaned over and put his ear near the blistered lips of the prisoner. A hoarse whisper was all the wretch could utter, but it was enough. “Salt..Fell..shp..Ho..Epify”

Raising his head, Jim looked at the man’s heavily burned and blistered face. The pain filled eyes regarded him for a second, and then he nodded as if trying to confirm what he had said was the truth.

Jim returned the nod, and then he hustled Whatsit from the room and closed the door. Smiling at the big lizard, he wrapped his arm around Whatsit’s shoulders and gave him a happy squeeze.

***

Collier had just finished the telephone call to his aide, Corporal Richard Adams, when there was a sharp knock on his office door.

“Enter,” he responded as he hung up the receiver.

Blunt walked in with an excited look. “General, I have a breakthrough on the ambush. I think I know who sent the killers.”

Collier showed genuine surprise. So far, the surveillance of Adams had no results. In fact, the reason he had been on the telephone with Adams was to set up the storyline they hoped would push the traitorous jerk to get in contact with his cronies.

“I hope what you have to tell me doesn’t conflict with the tale I just gave Adams. I told him Whatsit and you are dead, and Hoffman is clinging to life in the infirmary here. Best job of worried-sick acting I’ve ever done in my life if I do say so myself,” he grinned.

“No worry,” Jim replied. “I had a nice chat with our half-cooked killer. Seems he got the impression, somehow, his boss ratted him out to be the fall guy of the failed operation. I counted on my belief he wasn’t a man who has a forgiving heart.”

“How did you manage to convince the sociopath to spill the beans?”

Laughing softly, Blunt told the General everything that had happened in the hospital room. “I did some checking on the odd words he managed to whisper. I guessed Adams’ work schedule would require his contacts to be close by, so I limited my name search to the greater Washington area. The phrase the prisoner gave me was Salt Fell shp Ho Epify. Weird, huh?”

The General nodded for Blunt to continue, “I looked up words beginning with Salt in the phone book but nothing had a second word beginning with Fellow. Then I started thinking maybe Fell shp might be Fellowship. I asked our Intel folks to do a cross check of any Washington phone records with the word Fellowship in the name. There were several but one name stood out. The Exalted Fellowship. Get it? Salt Fell shp for Exalted Fellowship! There is only one group in Washington with that moniker. The Exalted Fellowship of the Holy Epiphany and the name matches what our killer tried to tell me.”

“Good work, Major,” Collier replied. “I’ll get our security people in Washington on this at once. At least there’s something concrete to match with Adams’ movements.”

***

Corporal Richard Adams hung up the receiver on his office telephone and could barely contain his glee. It took an extreme effort to keep his facial features neutral as he turned back to face his typewriter. Trusting old General Collier had just confirmed to him the deaths of the lizard and Blunt.

“Praise be to God!” he thought.

Adams was so excited he found it hard to concentrate on mundane office tasks. His mind kept returning to the same line of thought. “My loyalty to the church is now manifest. It’s by my efforts the Holy Mission of the church has been moved forward, and I shall reap my just rewards.”

Tilting back in his chair, Adams allowed himself a self-satisfied smile as he formed a mental list of holy rewards he would demand from the head of The Exalted Fellowship of the Holy Epiphany. Number one would be a seat at the Table of Elders with a robe befitting his importance to the church. A robe with a gold lame collar only half as wide as the collar of Your Grace would be appropriate. As he continued to muse about his just rewards, the grin on Adams’ face kept getting wider.

Unknown to Adams, in a room adjoining his office, a camera and tape recorder were documenting every move and sound he made while security personnel wrote notes about his behavior.

***

Everyone seemed to be in better spirits as they filed into the conference room the next morning; a stark contrast to the gloomy mood of the previous day when the death of Tom LeBlanc was fresh in their minds.

Glancing at Blunt, Collier said with a sly grin, “Ladies and Gentlemen, it is with deep sorrow I must advise you of the deaths of Major Blunt and Whatsit.”

The look of consternation on everyone’s face was priceless. There was Major Jim Blunt in the flesh sitting right next to Dr. Diane Hoffman, an amused look crinkling the corners of his mouth.

Heinbaum was the first to speak and self-righteous indignation wrinkled his brow. “General, what kind of game is this? I don’t know about everyone else, but my time is too valuable for needless comedy.”

“Calm down. Calm down, Doctor. There is a very good reason for their deaths.”

Collier explained. “As the result of the ambush in Carlisle, Major Blunt and I arranged additional security around the only person who had access to the travel plans and meeting details. Sadly, this person was my staff aide, Corporal Richard Adams.”

Surprise on everyone’s faces was replaced by subtle anger. Murmured comments grew into voiced questions as Collier’s revelation sank in. “How did you catch him?” “What did he do?” were the most common.

Waiting for everyone to calm down, Collier continued his briefing. “Major Blunt and I decided we needed to push Corporal Adams into contacting his cohorts without his finding out we knew he was the traitor. The best way to accomplish this was to make Adams think the attack was successful. I told Adams yesterday afternoon that both Major Blunt and Whatsit were killed in the attack.”

Peering at Diane, Collier feigned sympathy and said, “Oh, by the way, Dr. Hoffman, you were critically injured in the attack as well. You are clinging to life in the infirmary here, and we don’t know if you’ll survive your injuries.”

Diane shook her head, a sideways grimace pulling across her cheek. Jim reached out and patted her hand and said, “You still look very nice for a woman at death’s door.”

“Why thank you, sir,” she responded. “You look pretty good yourself for a dead man.” Then with a smirk, she purred, “I didn’t believe in zombies until just this moment.”

Clearing his throat loudly to break up the little tete-a-tete, Collier explained, “I have Corporal Adams under constant surveillance. With the news his treachery was successful, we expect him to attempt contact with his accomplices very soon, and when he does, appropriate action will be taken to neutralize the threats they pose to National Security. There is nothing more to report at this time, so I will move forward to the primary reason for this meeting.”

Without waiting for a comment, he continued, “As a result of the capture of the Chrysallaman spacecraft in July last year and the information Major Blunt was able to glean from his interactions with Whatsit, President Truman and his closest advisors recognized the alien invasion threat as the primary focus for all future military augmentation and technological development. It was decided the best course of action was to create an agency in the Government with the sole purpose of protecting the security of the United States. President Truman called in favors and used his political influence to push through the adoption of the National Security Act. The NSA completely restructured U.S. military and intelligence divisions into one cohesive unit and created the Joint Chiefs of Staff and the National Security Council.”

Jenson raised his hand for attention and receiving a nod from Collier, said, “I thought this alien invasion stuff was only known to around 10 people outside this room. Are you telling us all the senators and representatives in Congress know about it as well?”

“No,” Collier replied. “The only thing the guys in Congress know is the War exposed the necessity of coordinated military armament and methods for deployment. They have no idea yet about the alien threat.”

Returning to his explanation, Collier said, “I’m telling you all this for a reason. As a result of the discussions we had yesterday, I realized we’d reached a point of action instead of reaction.”

Shifting his gaze to Heinbaum, Collier continued, “The collaboration of Dr. Heinbaum and Lieutenant McPherson has yielded significant discoveries and weapons.”

At his words, Heinbaum puffed up like a guinea hen trying to impress a mate. Peering around the table to make sure everyone had heard the General’s words, he replied bombastically, “Why, thank you, General. It is gratifying for my genius to be recognized.”

A sudden, hard thump on his back sent his head toward the tabletop followed by McPherson’s voice, “Atta boy, Doc!”

Heinbaum glared at the grinning Scotsman but decided it best not to bluster any further.

Collier narrowed his eyes and tried his best to glower at the red-haired giant, but inside, he was enjoying the discomfiture of the egotistical Heinbaum.

Turning his attention toward Diane, the General got a serious look, “Dr. Hoffman, you have a disadvantage in that your knowledge and expertise aren’t based on hardware. Your contributions have a time frame of years, even decades, until results are tangible. Not only that, your requirements for successful manipulation of the Human genome is scary to some of my superiors in Washington.”

Hoffman started to protest, but Collier held his palm towards her, and she remained silent.

Collier continued, “Before the Chiefs of Staff and the Security Council will entertain your proposals for introducing the dormant virus into the general population and approving an activating agent for the virus, they want to see a live demonstration of your results.” Pausing for effect, he continued, “They want to see if you can do it.”

Returning the General’s gaze with unblinking eyes, Diane replied with a determined smile, “I’ll get them what they want, Sir.”