

The Searching Soul

Published by Ron Zastre at Smashwords

Copyright 1999 Ron Zastre

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Foreword

Gravity is the last force of nature to be understood. We know it's there, we know what it does, and we know it's necessary to the very existence of the Universe. However, we have no idea what the actual mechanics are or how it really works. It's some kind of encompassing field or fabric and that is the extent of our knowledge.

This unknown force is responsible for absolutely everything we experience. It's the reason that everything works the way it does. Without this phenomenon, we and every other thing in this vast Universe could have never come together. There would be nothing but floating, scattered dust, maybe even less. Something that is so critical to our very existence may decide what happens to us after we die. The Searching Soul, explores this uncharted area.

A human has never died in an altered gravitational field; specifically, an orbit, a place into which we routinely launch humans. We are born, live, and die within a consistent gravitational field, but there are a lot of inconsistencies in this uniform field: paranormal, psychic, unexplained mysterious, and other factors. We all know people who seem to have a strange window into the future, the past, or the present. It seems they have the ability to mentally travel in, or on, or through an unfamiliar medium. The unknown gravitational fabric that governs all physics, known and yet to be discovered, is maybe the highway that they unwittingly use.

The Searching Soul is about the first human to die in a weakened gravitation field. All living things possess an electromagnetic field, the nervous system, as I define as the soul. If things are normal, the results are predictable, the soul is reabsorbed by the Earth's field. If one unaltered field, say a human's, is suddenly released in a weakened field, say the Earth's orbit, what might happen?

Chapter 1

IN EARTH ORBIT - There is nothing as breathtaking as the planet Earth from space. Although it is impossible to see the life that abounds on the surface, the radiant colors speak to the truth. The deep shifting blues of the vast oceans, the warm brilliant greens splattered among the browns of the land masses, and the vast swirling white clouds; all attest to something besides a giant, lifeless ball spinning in the cosmos.

The first real proof of life in this vista is a small dot approaching many miles above the surface, well above the life-sustaining engine far below. As it comes closer, growing in size, it defines itself as a machine, something that is out of place and confirms there is intelligence close by.

It's a beautiful machine, bright white on the side facing down to the planet. This side also distinguishes it as a flying machine with large dramatic sweeping control surfaces. The other side pointing out into space is a featureless flat dull black surface. The black contrasts dramatically as it passes over the white clouds down on the surface. Inside the flying machine humans from the surface are reaching out beyond their home; to begin the exploration of the unknown that stretches away into the black infinity that surrounds them.

The pilot of the machine is listening to one of his comrades, Lieutenant Colonel Ron Donald, cocooned in a bulky white suit that allows him to survive in the hostile environment. Colonel Donald is moving away from the flying machine, heading toward another machine, this one is much smaller, bristling with shiny flat panels.

***

"The brilliant blue-green planet revolves two hundred miles below, curving away in all directions," the man in the space suit said with sincere reverence.

"The fact that it is a giant ball, floating in the darkness of space is evident from this view." There was a moment of silence, then a quick, "Ahum," an expression of insight. "The planet shines and is warmed by the Sun that is moving closer to the far horizon, over there." The astronaut expounding the idea pointed toward the horizon with his space suit-clad arm. "It looks warm and safe down there." He was floating, facing the planet down below. Tiny wisps of gas shot from his suit and he rotated quickly to face outward, then more tiny wisps stopped his roll. "One look the other way, into the deep, hostile blackness confirms that it is indeed Space-Ship-Earth, all alone, any companions far, far away." The astronaut spoke as he moved away from the Space Shuttle Reunion.

"Well, Colonel Donald, it seems that all the work to get here has been worth it. You sound moved by the experience," a voice crackled inside the helmet of the astronaut as he moved away from the shuttle.

"Oh yeah!" came the exited reply from Donald. More small wisps of gas jet from his suit maneuvering him in the vacuum of space. "I don't know how I'm going to concentrate on any work." Donald paused, taking it all in. "This is so beautiful!" he exclaimed, continuing toward the satellite that was matching Reunion's rapid pace around the Earth.

"Got anything else profound to say?" the voice crackled again.

"Hell, I'm no philosopher," Donald responded.

"No?" the voice proclaimed. "That last blurb wasn't bad, so let's hear something else. Damn, man, not too many people have gotten a look at their world like you're doing."

"It looks so much smaller from here," Donald said after thinking a bit.

"Small?" was the response. "How do you figure? That's a big ass deal down there?"

"Commander Realms, I used to drive from Omaha to Denver, like twice a week and it was the worst damn trip." Donald's voice even hinted at the distaste. "If I'm guessing right, we're over that god awful stretch of highway right now."

"Guessed right," Realms, Reunion's Commander replied.

"This time the trip will be over in a couple minutes, that's why I'm thinking small." Donald chuckled, reaching the satellite and gaining a foothold.

"Good point."

"I'd better get to work, huh?" Donald commented.

"Should take you about fifty minutes and then you'll have ten or so to star gaze."

Donald didn't say anything, but there was a very loud pop on the radio, corresponding with an equally loud, "Oof," then a short strangling sound, then silence.

No one inside the space shuttle saw the small burst of Donald's space suit in the left lower back area.

"Lost all his telemetry," the astronaut on Realms's left, Major Leslie Warren, the copilot announced.

"Donald come in," Realms called from inside the space shuttle. "What the hell happened?" Realms shouted, punching at icons on the screen in front of him.

"Looks like suit failure," Warren shouted back.

"How the hell can a suit just go like that?" Realms shouted again. "Donald, come in." There was no return, not even static. "The radio is out, that's what the problem is." Realms sat back confident that his summation was correct.

"No, the radio's good," Warren returned.

"It's out, I tell you!" Realms argued, "It's dead!"

"It's good," Warren claimed.

"Then we would hear something," Realms cried.

"Donald's suit was compromised," the flight engineer, Captain Diedrich, interjected from his station behind the pilots, "Look!" He said pointing outside through the front window of the shuttle. Donald had lost his hold on the satellite and was drifting away, a tiny stream of visible gas swirling out of the puncture in his suit. "It's as cold and dead in that suit, as it is out there."

"Get him back in here, now!" Realms ordered, never looking out the window.

"Gotcha," Diedrich answered, jumping up from his station. "I'll pull in his tether," he added, reaching for a panel behind him.

"Houston." Realms had switched frequencies. "Come in Houston."

"Houston here," came the reply. The shuttle crew could hear excited voices in the background.

"We have an emergency here, please advise," Realms said.

"What is the problem?" Huston replied.

"We have lost all telemetry on Donald," Realms advised. "How do you read him?"

"One moment please."

"What the hell is going on?" Realms said, throwing up his hands. "They have the same telemetry we do?" He turned to Diedrich. "I'm telling you it's a screw up, get him in."

Realms and Warren watched, as Donald was being pulled back toward the shuttle. They waited for a response, but the radio stayed silent. Donald was about to be pulled back into the shuttle bay when a response finally came from Houston. "It looks like Donald's suit was punctured."

"Are you sure, we're retrieving him now?" Realms returned.

There was a short pause from Houston, then an excited voice. "Where is he now?"

"We've almost got him back," Realms said.

"Commander," Warren interjected.

"Stop!" Houston commanded.

"What do you mean, stop?" Realms sounded incredulous. "He's almost back on board." Realms turned to the engineer. "Don't listen to them, get him back aboard."

"Commander, there is something strange—" Warren repeated.

"What are you talking—" Realms turned to the copilot.

"I'm getting readings from Donald," she interrupted.

"Stop now, do not pull him aboard!" the voice from ground control commanded excitedly.

"Are you sure?" Realms asked Warren.

"Yes, see here, very faint readings from this area," she pointed to the screen in front of her, adjusting with her mouse.

"Houston, we're getting something from Donald!" Realms shouted.

"One moment please," was the return, but in moments, "Reunion, disregard the signals and detach Donald."

"We can't just leave him!" Realms pleaded.

"Stop now," Houston ordered. "I repeat, do not pull him aboard."

"I don't—" Realms was about to protest farther, but he saw Captain Diedrich punched an icon, and Donald stopped ten feet short of the bay doors and began to spin slowly at the end of his tether, as Houston repeated. "Detach the tether, now!"

"What about the signal?" Realms shouted. "He's still with us, I tell you."

There was silence for a moment, and then a different, concerned voice came on the radio. "Has Donald had any contact with your vehicle?"

"No!" Realms was angry, "No, he's just spinning out there."

"Detach him now."

"Have you all gone batty? Donald needs our help, we can't just leave him."

"Donald is dead," the reply came back.

"You don't know that!"

"Donald is dead, detach him now."

"This is bullshit! I'm not leaving one of my men, if there is any question—"

Diedrich secretly motioned Warren; come back to my station.

"If you bring Donald aboard, the entire shuttle will stay in orbit, indefinitely," the man from Houston threatened.

"What? Who the hell made that decision?" Realms cried.

"It's an operational directive," came the reply.

"I know about that directive," Realms stated, "but there—"

"Detach him now!"

"Who are you?" Realms questioned, looking for confirmation to what he thought was stupid.

"I don't like the way this is going," Diedrich said in a whisper to Warren.

"It is not relevant. Follow orders, detach Donald now," came the order from Houston.

"They're concerned about contamination," Diedrich said loud enough for everyone to hear.

"The little green man syndrome. What a bunch of shit," Realms snarled from his pilot's post. He turned back to face Diedrich. "Let's think this over."

"There's nothing to think about," Diedrich said angrily. "I for one do not want to die up here!" He pulled himself quickly back to his engineering post and reached for the counsel.

"Wait, let's think this over," Realms said calmer.

"We've got our orders," Diedrich returned.

"Bull!" Realms exclaimed. In a more consolatory tone he continued "Just let him reel out, but do not detach him, please. We have to think about Donald." He turned to Warren. "You still getting the signal?"

"It's very weak, but yeah, I'm sure it's coming from Donald. Something strange is going on here."

Diedrich pushed an icon to release the tension on the tether to Donald. Donald's slowly rotating body began to move away from the shuttle bay.

"Why do you say strange?" Diedrich asked.

"This is data that our programs have no record of," Warren replied.

"Great, we don't need any more problems," Realms said. "Are you sure it's coming from him?"

"It's Donald; I'm getting telemetry from him."

"I knew it! Get him in here now!" Realms exclaimed, then spoke into the microphone. "Houston, we are getting some telemetry from Donald and are bringing him in."

"You were ordered to detach him, do not bring him aboard."

"But he's alive!"

"He is dead!"

"We are getting telemetry from him," Realms argued.

"We're getting the same thing, and it has nothing to do with his life systems. Donald is dead."

"But—"

"This is Keaton," a new voice from Houston said. "Look at your sensors Commander! The temperature inside Donald's suit is 150 below Celsius, and there is no air pressure. Donald cannot be alive."

"He's right," Diedrich added."

"Goddamn-it, we don't know that!" Commander Realms had a nasty look on his face. He was a tall, good looking man when he was happy, but his face couldn't hide the ugliness of the present situation. "I can't believe this! How can you just want to leave him out here?" he shouted into his microphone. "Give him some time, dammit," Realms pleaded.

"He's dead," Keaton returned. "You have seventy minutes, then you need to set up for the reentry burn and to make the correct computations. You need to detach Donald . . . before then'." Keaton seemed to back off slightly.

"What about his body?" Realms asked in anguish.

"His body will be recovered in a follow-up mission."

"I just can't—"

"Listen to me, Commander," Keaton interrupted. "If you do not detach him shortly, you will miss the window of opportunity and you'll stay out there with him."

"We can go around again."

"No, you can't; you don't have the fuel for it.

"Bullshit, we have a reserve," Realms disputed.

"You are not going to jeopardize the mission and the rest of the crew with this insubordinate behavior. Detach Donald now, and maneuver for reentry," Keaton ordered with authority.

"Something strange is happening with Donald, why aren't they taking it serious?" Realms lamented, turning to his crew.

"You said it!" Diedrich responded angrily. "Dammit Bill, something strange is happening. This is exactly why that directive was implemented. You want to take a chance and bring this back to your wife and kids?"

Commander Realms looked at Diedrich, then Warren. It looked like he had something to say, but after a moment he turned back to the front. "Let's get set for the maneuvering, but don't cut Donald loose until the last moment."

Chapter 2

BACK ON THE PLANET'S SURFACE - "Somebody please shoot me!" the actor on the television requested. His name was Al.

A middle-aged man with unruly brown hair was scrunched up in a darkened room, enjoying the comforts of a deep couch, the glow from his laptop and the television providing the only light. "I know how he feels," the man commented aloofly.

Behind him in the lighted kitchen was a thirtyish, attractive woman drying dishes.

The television changed scenes. Al is sitting, facing the audience. His thoughts are expressed in his own voice, a serene, stupid look on his face. "Hooters," his voice proclaims, as an image of a buxom woman appears, the camera focusing only on her endowments.

Carl Boroughs, the man on the couch watches with detached interest, as an attractive redhead next to Al follows with her thoughts, "Ah Rudapho," she pines, and the image is one of a manly, hunk motioning to her. Next, the son, Bud, is snuggling with an imaginary lover, "Monique," he croons, and Monique appears on the screen, a rubber blowup doll.

"My kind of woman," Carl quipped, "quiet but efficient."

"Would you be happier if I didn't speak?" The woman from the kitchen had moved to the bar that separated the rooms. Her most compelling feature was her thick, beautifully sculptured eyebrows. They set off her soft brown eyes perfectly. She had thick, dark, rich brown hair pulled back into a ponytail.

"Huh?" Carl didn't hear what she had said. He was watching when the characters changed again, this time to a gorgeous blond, the ditzy daughter Kelly. Her thoughts turned out to be simply white noise.

"I can't believe you watch that stupid show," the woman said.

"Hey, she reminds me of some of the people I work with," Carl announced.

"See, it's your fault nothing gets done down there," the woman said. "You take her too serious."

"Hey Amy, Kelly doesn't complicate things." He turned to her with a smile.

The television broke for a commercial, and Carl went back to the computer on his lap.

***

Carl was concentrating on the work in front of him, reading slowly.

***

The network's special report logo came on. "We interrupt this regularly scheduled program for the following Special Report," said a new TV announcer, the man unseen. The declaration caught Carl's attention, only slightly, as he looked back to the computer.

The TV switched to a news room studio with a serious looking, silver haired man, looking down at his material.

"Oh look, your buddy," Amy poked her head around the corner of the wall.

Carl looked up and groaned. "Great. Winston."

"Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen," the news reporter began with a deep velvety voice, "this is Winston Adams with an ADC network, Special News Report." Carl gave him only a glance, but Amy had moved to the kitchen door, slightly more interested in what the newscaster had to say.

Winston Adams cleared his throat and looked up to his audience with a solemn expression. "Space Agency Spokesperson Jake Wells has just informed us that Astronaut Commander Ron Donald," Carl jumped forward from his reclining position taking his eyes off the computer, closing the top. He leaned forward, looking to the TV with interest. "Science officer aboard the Space Shuttle Reunion," Winston continued in his authoritative voice, "has been killed in a freak accident outside the space shuttle."

"Oh shit!" Carl exclaimed grabbing down around the couch beside him, feeling for something, his eyes glued to the screen.

"Details are sketchy," Adams continued, "but apparently Donald was struck by a foreign object while he was outside the shuttle working on a satellite."

Carl was halfway up, searching the couch frantically.

"The object punctured Donald's pressurized suit resulting in his immediate death," Winston added. Carl finally found his cell phone and ferociously punched at the buttons.

"This tragedy comes on the heels of The Space Agency's attempt to rectify itself after the Redoubt disaster," Winston continued.

Carl was on his feet staring at the television. "Come on, come on," he snarled impatiently into the phone. He was a big man, the cell phone tiny in his hand. The other hand was pulling through his hair anxiously.

"The launch of Reunion seven days ago was hailed as the "New" Space Program. It had new and improved systems throughout the entire mission, with additional advances in design and materials," Winston added.

Amy had moved into the living room also watching the broadcast intently. She was five-seven, with shapely legs and torso.

"The Agency was counting on a total success to regain the lost confidence its program suffered when Redoubt burned up on reentry, thirty-three months ago. Details to follow as they become available," Winston finalized.

Carl dropped back onto the couch hard with the phone up to his ear, waiting for someone to answer.

Amy looked down at him silently, watching him intently. "Aren't you going to say anything?" she finally asked.

Carl just sat there, still, like he was in shock, the phone still pressed to his ear. "What can I say?" he responded after a moment. "That poor bastard! Dammit, why did I even hope that this one would go smoothly?"

"Because you're a lazy bugger, you don't like to work that hard." Amy reached over and scratched the top of Carl's head affectionately.

"Very funny, but you know what this is going to mean?" Carl said, looking up at her.

"Yeah, not seeing too much of you, I would imagine."

"That's very likely; everyone's going to want answers. It's going to make my job really tough." Carl sighed.

"Hey, you're the one that took all this on, so stop complaining."

"I know, I know, but, I was hoping for a few successes so I could get a little established before I had to play hardball," Carl moaned. "Come on Mac," he shouted at the phone he had finally taken from his ear, "answer the damn phone."

Amy put her arms around Carl's shoulders and put her head down to his. "Say there big shot, I thought you were important down there where you work?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I would think that as the man in charge you'd have been notified some other way than the regular nightly news?"

"It wasn't the regular news!"

"Still!"

"Oh, I'm a little peeved, you can bet your butt on that, but I don't know whose ass to jump, yet. How the hell could the wire-service pick this up so fast? I'll tell you, those vultures scare me sometimes. The harder I try to reason with them, the harder they try to foul me up."

"Oh sweetie, it's how they make the big money."

Carl heard a voice finally respond on the phone and he quickly put it up to his ear. "Hey Mac!" Carl said loudly. "What the hell is going on down there?"

***

Mac MacMillan was sitting upright behind his desk, his elbows planted firmly on the top. He was holding the phone to one ear and rubbing the opposite temple with taunt fingers, watching people rush around in the control center outside his office. He watched the mayhem through the large glass windows that separated his domain from theirs. He sat back into his chair and rotated it 180 degrees trying to get calm.

"Carl, I can't imagine what you want?" he said into the phone, stress evident in his voice.

"What can you tell me Mac?" Carl asked.

"Well, we lost a man, and directive 18A3C is staring us in the face," Mac returned.

"Oh shit, I warned you guys," Carl responded. "I don't want to say I told you so!"

"Hell Carl, we've been over that and over that. I know you don't approve, but it's necessary! You know that!"

"Damn Mac, how long are you going to leave him out there?"

"I don't know at this point? He's still tethered, but we're planning to cut him loose shortly."

"Make damn sure you can find him when the recovery ship is launched. Any idea when that may be?"

"Can't get any answers on that one."

"Any guesstimates?"

"Three to four months, but don't quote me. My neck is stretched to the limit already."

"Your neck! Do you know how I was informed about this?"

"I couldn't help it Carl!"

"I was watching Married with Children, dammit!"

"So was his wife!"

"Oh great! What the hell's happened to the responsibility in that office of yours?" Carl shouted.

"Carl listen, it happened during the ship-to-shore scheduled press update."

"You mean they got it uncensored!"

"The whole thing . . . well not completely. The information officer had enough sense to scramble the transmission shortly after the problem. They didn't find out about the directive."

***

"We interrupt this regularly scheduled program for a Special Update about the Reunion Disaster." Married with Children was interrupted again and Carl turned back to the television.

"Hold it Mac, Winston is coming back on," Carl said into his phone.

"I don't think I want to hear this!"

"What! You mean to say that this isn't coming from your office?"

"We haven't released anything yet!"

"It must just be a rehash, making sure he gets to everyone," Carl said calmly, looking at the special screen, waiting for Winston.

A moment later, the newsroom with Winston sitting regally, popped onto the screen. "Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Winston Adams with an update on the Reunion tragedy. Astronaut Ron Donald will be cut free from the Space Shuttle Reunion shortly. We do not understand this unspeakable action. We do know that a directive, an 18 something or other, is behind the decision. As information becomes available we will forward it to you. The Space Agency is, as usual, very tight lipped, but you the people that pay for all this have a right to know."

"That bastard!" Carl shouted, pointing at the TV, his fingers taunt. "Mac, how the hell did he get that directive info? That is classified for God sakes!"

"I haven't the slightest idea, but maybe he'll hang himself."

"Great Mac, but did you even consider the gallows might be a three holer? Whoever is leaking this information, stop them now, please!" Carl shouted. "That pompous S.O.B. doesn't have the sense to think about what he's doing. He's going to unravel everything. You've got to talk to him."

Mac shouted back. "He's going to want something to talk to me, and you know that."

"Give him 18A3C," Carl advised.

Mac swung around in his chair, looking back out into the control room. People were still dashing around. He sat, thinking for a moment. "I'll need to clear it, but might as well."

***

"He's really doing a job on you guys," Amy said, back in the apartment.

"Thanks, I didn't need you to point 'that' out," growled Carl.

"What's the 18 thingy?"

"It's a directive?"

"And?"

"And what?"

"What does the directive pertain to?" Amy asked annoyed that Carl was not cooperating.

"I can't tell you, you know that!"

"Carl, Winston just alluded to it on national television. I don't think it will be any great secret by tomorrow," Amy reasoned.

"Thanks to him," Carl pointed toward the TV again.

"You're not making much sense. According to Winston they're leaving Donald out there, and I heard you yelling with Mac about it."

"Donald is staying out there, for the time being."

"Oh boy, have you got your work cut out for you. Every person in America is going to hate you," Amy said sitting on the arm of the couch.

"That include you?"

"Not if you tell me about the directive."

Carl curled his lip at Amy baring his teeth on one side of his mouth, giving her a mock, dirty look, and then explained 18A3C.

***

"Oh boy have you got your work—"

"You already said that!"

"Winston doesn't need to hammer you on this one, the public will take care of that on their own," Amy concluded.

"Yeah, and you know he's not going to back off."

"What do you think his purpose is?"

"I thought you already decided it was money."

"He seems to have a personal stake in it. At least that's what you told me before," Amy said.

"Hell, I don't know, it's ludicrous. You know, ever since the Rendezvous and Redoubt accidents there's been more than one of these clowns trying to gain something out of the ashes. Winston was a nobody back then, but now, just by hammering at us he's a big shot. Hey, we're dealing with a frontier thing here, and there's bound to be some mistakes."

"Well, you're not the first frontier dude to have the Indians circling your wagons, you know."

"Boy, this is going to make funding damn near impossible."

"You have the deficit blues my darling."

"You know that's a word that most people didn't even know the meaning of a while back. Now everyone's an expert on the subject, even the ones that still can't balance their own check books."

"How many more experts do you think Winston is creating?"

"Oh I know. Can you imagine? By tomorrow morning we are going to be overwhelmed by suggestions. Boy, have I got one for Winston."

"Now," Amy advised, putting her hand on his arm, "think nice things, happy things, constructive things."

"It was a constructive thought!"

"I doubt if Winston would agree," Amy snickered.

***

The telephone rang and Carl quickly answered it. "Okay Mac, what's up?"

"I just got off the phone with the President," Mac returned, "and he's a little unhappy to say the least."

"He didn't get to watch the rest of Married with Children either?" Carl responded cynically.

"Something like that. Can you imagine the big boss, and the White House being briefed like that? Things appear to be a little tense down there."

"I can imagine." Carl sighed. "Are they blaming us?"

"Not yet, it takes a little time to plan a barbecue properly. Anyway, the President wants you to get with Adams, and give him 18A3C."

"Why me?"

"Because I'd blow my stack, and Winston knows it. He'd be counting on it, correct?"

"What if I blow mine?"

"Better you than me."

"Thanks! Did that come from the President?"

"He felt that you were in a better position with the press."

"And, I'm expendable."

"He was just kidding about that, he really has faith in you. Anyway, to keep Adams happy, until we can plug up the leak, give him 18A3C. Besides, we can't just leave Donald out there without an explanation."

"I guess, as long as it's over the phone. Don't ask me to see him in person, just yet."

"It's your ball."

"Fine, but while I'm feeding the rabid dog scraps, you figure out how to muzzle it before it bites all of us."

"I'll do my best, got any suggestions?"

"Well, there's only two ways to get info down, either one of our channels, or somebody's running one of their own?"

"A bug maybe?"

"Why not, they're really small nowadays."

"I can't see any of our personnel participating," Mac sounded defensive. "Adams is not liked at all, you know that."

"Mac, Mac," Carl lectured. "A grudge, blackmail, or just for money? There are many reasons people sell out."

"Disgusting, but very possible. I guess how and not why is the important thing right now."

"Oh shit!" Carl shouted. "Here comes Winston again."

***

"Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Winston Adams with continuing coverage of the Reunion Disaster. We shift to Allison Mitchell for a profile of Lieutenant Colonel Donald," announced Winston Adams.

The scene on the television changed to a tall, slim woman with a microphone in her hand. It was dark outside, and she was about to speak with a determined, business look on her pretty face. She had long, dark hair, cut straight. Behind her was a two story house set back on the lot, partially lit by the street light. There's a bicycle on the lawn under a big tree, and a car in the driveway.

She swished her beautiful hair and began. "This is Allison Mitchell live," she paused and turned back toward the house. "Ron Donald, the latest victim of the U.S. space program, was raised in this house and when he married and started his family, he purchased—"

"I have a feeling that if the whole world doesn't already hate us, they will by the time she's done," Carl said into the phone.

"Hold on," Mac said, "watch Winston for me, I have another call."

Allison continued her commentary. "Colonel Donald always dreamed of being an astronaut—"

Carl, in disgust, hit the mute on the TV remote and threw the instrument clattering onto the coffee table.

"What's got you so upset?" asked Amy.

"Him!" Carl shouted, thrusting his arm out stiffly, pointing at the TV. The veins in his neck were visible and his six foot two, two hundred pound frame rigid.

"Oh come on," Amy tried to sound calm and soothing, "at least you don't have to deal with him one on one."

"Yes, I do!"

"Oh?"

"Yeah, Mac just said I have to contact him."

"Why you, you'll blow your stack."

"That's why he just gets a phone call."

"That's a safe decision by a big, angry, frustrated guy like you," Amy chuckled.

Chapter 3

CARL'S PHONE CALL IS ANSWERED - "Carl, I've been expecting to hear from you guys. I need to put you on hold for a minute," Winston Adams snickered confidently.

"Ahhh," it was a sound of protest and disgust from Carl. "That SOB is in the driver's seat and he knows it! I think I heard him chuckle," he whined to Amy, waiting.

***

"Carl, sorry to make you wait," Winston returned after two long minutes. "It's good to hear from the agency, and what can I do for you?"

"No, Winston," Carl countered, "you've got it all wrong, I can do something for you."

"I'm listening."

"It seems that you've gotten a little out of hand and you need to be informed, just so you don't make an ass of yourself."

"I'm more informed than you think!"

"It appears that you might be right about that, but when we figure out how you're obtaining classified information, you won't be so smug."

"I have access that you couldn't imagine and it's not illegal," Winston bragged.

"Do you want me to explain 18A3C, or do you want to gloat?"

"I might be interested."

"Now or never Winston."

"Don't threaten me! I have many sources."

"Fine, give them a call. Good-by Winston."

"Hold on, hold on, Carl, why must we always squabble?"

"Because you're a turd Winston! So to keep you from stinking too much, I've been instructed to fan a little fresh air over you. Are you listening?"

"Go ahead."

"Got a pen Winston, I want you to get this right?"

"I always get things right, haven't you noticed?"

"Directive 18A3C reads, and I quote; 'To prevent the possible entry of any extraterrestrial unknowns, either organic, mineral, or chemical, into the ecosystem of Earth, the following will pertain. If major vehicle, shuttle, or minor vehicle, space suit, is punctured outside the protective shield of the atmosphere the contamination of that vehicle is automatically assumed. At that point Directives 18BC4 and 18BC5 are to be implemented. Until Directives 18BC4 and 18BC5 are satisfied, Directive 18A3C will remain in effect."'

"Which means?"

"That Donald stays where he is, for the time being."

"Oh man, you guys really take care of your own."

"Donald understood the directive. Do you want to see the copy he signed?"

"Oh come on now, he knew that he couldn't go flying in all that fancy hardware unless he signed."

"Winston, that directive is to protect us all. We have to have rules and we have to follow them."

"I don't like who makes the rules and I'm going to do something about it."

"Winston, you keep on pushing and there will be a point where you will slip through and then there will be no way back, I promise."

"Carl, you don't scare me. You and your off world buddies sure think you're special."

"Let's get back to the point of this conversation. We are dealing with the unknown, and, as I have tried to explain before—"

"What if the major vehicle had been involved?" interrupted Winston.

"No comment."

"You'd just leave them too."

"The main vehicle is not under discussion. 18A3C pertains to Donald right now, and if you want to discuss that fine."

"I see, but why this silly directive in the first place?"

"Silly! An unknown brought back into the atmosphere could run wild."

"An unknown what? All you space nuts are the same, seeing little green men around all the corners."

"It's a possibility Winston, don't overlook that thought."

"I'll tell my viewers the story next time I'm on. I like to keep things on the light side, the public expects it. You know how popular fairy tales are these days."

"Don't poke fun Winston; these things are done for a purpose."

"What purpose dictates leaving a man in space, dying all alone?"

"Donald was killed instantly," Carl stated emphatically.

"Are you sure?" Winston returned quizzically.

"Yes, of course!" Carl was indignant. "Do you think this agency wouldn't do everything possible to rescue one of its own?"

"Donald just might be trying to contact you," Winston said in a hushed voice, "and you don't want to listen."

"Don't be ridiculous, Winston. I have to run, I'd love to chat, but I have to earn my pay."

"You've got a real mess for sure, Carl, but you should be able to sweep it under the rug because I have a lot of faith in you."

"Adams, we put out what we know, when we know it. Besides, I wouldn't put anything under the rug because that's where you hang out."

"Do I make you nervous, Carl?"

"You do bother me Winston."

"Ah, I love to match wits with you Carl; it makes me feel so superior."

"Good-bye Winston!" Carl let his hand hang down, the phone still in it as he leaned back against the couch next to Amy. She put her arm around his back and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Winston getting you down?"

"No." Carl sat thinking, comfortable for the moment with the closeness. "It's Donald that's the tough one."

"What was Winston being ridiculous about?"

"Oh, he's just trying to piss me off, I guess."

"Sounds like he got somewhere. What kind of devious statement did he come up with?"

"He said Donald was trying to make contact, or something like that." Carl threw the cell phone at the back of the couch. It bounced from the back and dropped to the seat cushion and began to ring again. Carl just looked at it.

"You must be perturbed," Amy remarked. "I've never seen you not answer your phone."

"I'm going to hang his ass," Carl growled.

"Why do you let him get you so mad?"

"So I won't forget, so when the time comes I won't go soft." Carl took a deep breath. "I am gonna nail his ass!"

"You're scary."

"You just don't understand because you don't have to deal with anyone like Winston."

"Yeah, you're right there; there are no ambitious or jealous people where I work."

"That's not what I mean." Carl pushed off from the couch, thinking, "You get to work with people that got there on their merit?"

"Most did, but you know better."

"I guess. Why am I so afraid of this Winston character?"

"Well, Carl, as long as I've been with you, I have learned one important thing."

"And what's that?"

"Sooner or later you'll figure it out, all by yourself."

"Oh hardy har, har, har," Carl said, putting his arms around Amy. The cell phone started to ring again.

Carl snuggled his face into Amy's hair for a moment, then said, "Shit!" He let go of her, reaching for the phone. "Yeah," Carl answered.

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" Mac sounded peeved.

"I was fuming about Winston."

"You talked to him then?"

"Yeah, we mostly spat at each other, though."

"You gave him 18A3C?"

"Yeah, but he was very critical of the entire concept."

"Oh, I'm sure he was delighted with the all the drama he'll be able to attach. Listen, Carl, we've got some strange things going on up there," Mac added excitedly.

"The shuttle?"

"Yeah, specifically Donald."

"Donald? I thought he was dead?"

"Sort of."

"Sort of!" Carl shouted, looking at Amy, a stunned look on his face. "What the hell are you getting at, dead is dead?"

"Possibly! Look, this is not the way. See you in my office in thirty."

Carl stared at the phone after Mac hung up, and after a moment turned to Amy, "I have to go see Mac," he said, finally hanging it up. "I'll be thinking of you."

"Not so fast." Amy rushed and blocked his path to the door. "Donald?" she didn't say anything more, just stood looking at Carl, waiting.

"You're not supposed to be listening."

"Oh right Carl!" She still stood there, still waiting.

"What?" Carl said, trying to get around her, but she backed to the door completely blocking the way.

"Dead is dead, or is it?" Amy asked.

"Donald is dead!" Carl pointed up, his finger tip almost reaching the ceiling. "The conditions out there guarantee that, trust me. He can't possibly be alive."

"Then what's Mac calling about?"

"That's what I'm headed down there about."

"Thanks Carl!" Amy declared, hands on her hips and an angry look on her face as she stepped aside. "Don't come to me for comfort if you can't at least confide in me."

Carl took Amy by the shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "When I find out what the hell is going on, I will tell you, I promise."

"Okay," Amy moved close, "as long as you promise. Think I'll get to see you, at least a little bit?"

"If you don't, blame it on Winston."

"Now I hate him too."

Chapter 4

CARL AND MAC WERE IN MAC'S OFFICE - "Dammit Mac, I don't give a damn who's going to win the Super Bowl, and my third cousin on my mother's side is okay, so don't bother asking." Carl was sitting across from Mac who was at his desk. "I want to know what the hell's going on? What is happening with Donald?"

"I can't say," Mac shrugged his shoulders, holding his hands out apologetic. "I don't know. They haven't told me everything yet."

"You know more than you're telling me," Carl said leaning forward, "correct?"

"Yes, but I don't know enough to explain it."

The phone rang and Mac picked it up. "Hello, yes, Dennis."

"I see." Mac listened. "No, I wouldn't know how to define that." Mac listened some more. "Look, all that's expected from you is statistics." Mac listened again. "We have people that are responsible for solutions, but don't feel that your suggestions aren't welcome." Mac sat rubbing his temple with his free hand, listening again. "Yeah, yeah, I'm wondering too," Mac jumped in. "Feed me any info when you get it and tell everyone to stay calm."

Mac turned to Carl and let out a small whistle as he replaced the phone.

"Okay, if I've been boring you, I'm going to make it up to you, right now. Donald is dead. An object, judged to be one-tenth of a millimeter, struck Donald in the left upper buttocks at an estimated velocity of 18,000 feet per second. The object punctured his suit, traveled down through Donald's gluteus, exited the other side of the suit and went on its merry way. The doctors are in agreement that the object wouldn't have done much damage to him. More than likely, he wouldn't have felt much more than a sizable sting considering the size of the hole it would have made. But, because of the loss of pressurization, resulting from the explosive expansion of the two holes caused by the entry and the exit of the particle; Donald lost consciousness almost immediately. The decompression took two-seconds, at which point his life signs were lost."

"Then what's this stuff about him still being alive?"

"I'm coming to that. Breathing stopped the same two-seconds after impact, obviously because there was nothing to breath. His heart stopped at five-seconds, clinically dead. Most brain functions continued for a little over six-seconds, which is reasonable, considering the conditions his body was being subjected to."

"You said most brain functions. Is this the strange part that's got everybody upside down?"

"Bingo! Donald's beta waves ceased after six-seconds. The alpha waves are still very strong."

"Part of his brain is still functioning, according to the sensors?" Carl was incredulous.

"That's it! The unconscious part is still ticking away. As a matter of fact, as I said, the alpha waves are strong, stronger than anyone's ever seen before."

"Can anyone make anything from it?"

"Nada! Hey, I'll tell you right now, plenty of our people are plenty nervous. This is beyond anything that anyone could have imagined. Every situation had been figured in, directives decided, then wham, the unexplainable. The computers are baffled, nothing even close to this on any of the programs, and no way to write a new program. We'll just have to start at the beginning and muddle through."

"What's the decision on retrieving Donald, after this development?"

"No change for Christ sakes. This is definitely an unknown, and that was the purpose of 18A3C in the first place."

"Can this be kept under wraps?"

"I wouldn't want to guarantee anything. Many people might have to be brought into this thing, unless we get real lucky and an answer pops up real quick."

"Maybe the waves will cease."

"We'd still have to figure out why they went on so long, wouldn't we Carl?"

"Ah yeah. I know this is a dumb question, but I have to ask."

"There are no equipment failures, so don't bother. That was the first thing we checked. Donald has been out there over nine hours. His oxygen would have run out long ago, even if his suit hadn't been punctured, and we have confirmed the damage to the suit visually."

"What about a malfunction in the sensors?"

"They're sensors; if they don't work, we get nothing. If they do work they send us data. They can't make up their own and right now they're sending us a lot of detailed information coming from Donald's brain."

"What's the information say?"

"No one knows, we can't read it."

"Oh great! Your secretary said Winston had another special while I was on my way, anything exciting?"

"No, I thought you were going to give him 18A3C?"

"I did, you mean he didn't use it?"

"No, what do you think he's up to?"

"Oh," Carl sat thinking, "I'll bet he didn't have time to doctor it enough to suit his needs."

Mac smiled. "You're expecting a real production then?"

"What else? I doubt if Winston is going to let everyone down on this one. Anyway, we'll know in about an hour, his regular broadcast is on then. Geez it's getting late, Amy is going to be wondering."

"She's a nice lady, how's it going with her?"

"Oh pretty good; we 'were' getting to be real friends."

"Were?"

"You don't think there's going to be a whole lot of time for friends with this major fuck-up on our hands?"

"Carl, there's always time for friends, and this isn't a fuck-up. Nobody made any mistakes, it was just bad timing."

"Adams is going to do his best to make it look like somebody's fault."

"Sure he is, he gets ahead that way, but you know, he might just be necessary on this one."

"You dislike him more than I do, I'd love to hear your explanation for that last comment."

"He's going to make us work and think like hell, and, I predict that he will either sink his own ship, or give us a good enough excuse to blow him out of the water."

"God, I would love that!" Carl exclaimed, getting up.

***

Carl was back on his couch, working on his computer and talking into his cell phone.

"Mac, I've gone over the material you gave me, and I am in full agreement. It is certain that no human or mechanical error was to blame for Donald's death, correction, suspected death." He paused as Amy walked into the apartment. She walked directly behind Carl and continued into the bedroom. "My original questioning of 18A3C has been rethought," he continued in a quieter voice, "and I have to concede; it is entirely possible that Donald is indeed contaminated." He looked toward the bedroom door, making sure that Amy was still in there. "I can think of no other reason for the present situation concerning him. We must proceed with 18BC4 and 5 because to possibly allow whatever might be contaminating Donald into the atmosphere could be catastrophic. That would constitute a screw up."

Amy walked out of the bedroom heading for him.

"I would like to have you present all that tomorrow at the press conference. Change the 'a screw up' part though," instructed Mac.

"Winston is getting ready to go on the air," Carl told Mac, as Amy curled up next to him on the couch. "You going to watch?"

"Yeah, I had them bring a TV in here."

"Mac, I remember once that you said that could never happen."

"Got a cot in here too."

"You know Mac; turning into a blubbering burnout isn't going to help much."

"There's nothing at home to take my mind off this thing."

"Get a puppy."

"There you go," Mac snarled, "scooping up runny poop will solve all my problems."

"Hum, probably just remind you of Winston."

"No doubt," Mac sighed, hanging up.

"Mac getting stressed out?" Amy asked.

"No more than usual, he's got a lot on his shoulders."

"I can imagine!" Amy snuggled in closer. "With one of his astronauts up there dead," Amy flipped her head skyward, "sending signals down."

"I should never have told you a thing." Carl punched her in the shoulder. "Why don't you like Mac, anyway?"

"I don't trust him," Amy said quickly, then hesitated, "I don't know, we just clash."

"You're not his type of woman," Carl agreed. "Hey, here comes Winston Baby."

***

"Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Winston Adams with the ADS late evening news. In all my life, I never expected to have to report something as disturbing as what I have to report tonight. This afternoon we reported the death of Astronaut Lieutenant Colonel, Ronald Curtis Donald, who was the science officer aboard the Space Shuttle Reunion. According to official reports, Colonel Donald was struck by an unnamed object while outside the shuttle. This reporter can accept that. What this reporter cannot accept is the behavior of TSA following this tragedy. Two hours ago, Reunion left Colonel Donald floating in space and continued with its scheduled reentry, sighting a directive 18A3C as the reason for this unbelievable decision. 18A3C supposedly was devised to protect us from killer organisms from outer space. I am reminded of the Blob, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, and The Andromeda Strain to name a few of the fantasies that come to mind. A Special Mission, scheduled at least a month from now, will retrieve Donald. Surely our professionals that were capable of sending men to the Moon and bringing them back safely could come up with something better than this. Equally disturbing is the report that Colonel Donald is not dead at all. I pray to God that this latest report is just someone's sick joke. If it is, it's a poor one, but it would be better than it being the truth. Please, we want the truth. What went wrong up there? Or maybe we should be asking, what is really happening up there? Is this some sort of secret mission too absurd for us to handle? We have the right to know!"

***

"Oh man did he cream us!" Carl said, slowly getting up from the couch. "Mac is going to crap. We have got to plug up that leak. Adams is making this real difficult," Carl growled, turning to Amy. "I can't believe it, the Special Mission that we haven't announced yet, Winston just did."

"How does he get away with it?"

"Free speech darling, it's in our constitution, remember."

"I know that! But how can he fabricate stories on his own like that? Isn't there a law against that sort of thing?"

"Which story are you wondering about?"

"Carl sweetie, are you getting dense or something? Your buddy Mr. Adams just insinuated that Astronaut Donald is still alive, and this is all some sort of secret mission. Is that a story or not?"

"He's not my buddy!"

"Is it just a story, or is there something to it?"

"I can't comment on that."

"I suppose if you told me, then you'd have to kill me."

"Something like that."

"Carl sweetie, it was just on TV, nationwide, no, international. That probably means that more than a few people realize there is a problem. You can probably tell me without getting into too much trouble."

"Donald is not alive, he is quite dead. But there is a problem."

"What's the problem?"

"I can't really say."

"Oh, come on Carl."

"No seriously, you know how tight security has to be. Besides, I'm not entirely sure what the problem really means."

The telephone rang and Carl answered it.

"Yeah Mac, we do need to talk."

"My place sounds good, we'll get some dinner on."

"Sounds good," agreed Mac, "but I have to warn you; I'm taking a beating because of Winston baby and I'm not in the best of moods."

"It's going to be business; no one said it had to be fun."

***

Amy and Mac were seated at the dining room table, Carl was in the kitchen.

"Mac, what did you think of the news tonight?" Amy asked.

"You talking to me?"

"Yes, Mac, right to you."

"I'll bet you're wondering about the Donald being alive thing?"

"Yes, Mac, I'm wondering about that. And I don't care if you have to kill me if you tell me. If you don't tell me I'm going to kill you. Do I make myself clear?"

Mac's shoulders slumped; he let out a big sigh and turned toward the kitchen, "Carl?"

Carl came out of the kitchen with a ladle; he was the cook for the evening. "Donald is dead, but they're still monitoring some low level transmissions from him, Alpha Waves."

"He's dead, but he's still dreaming?" Amy commented.

"Why would that mean he's dreaming?" Mac asked.

"I don't know, just off the top of my head. A female intuition maybe, but I think the Alpha Waves are subconscious, right?"

"That's what I'm told," Mac confessed.

"I know some people in dream research, and this sounds like their sort of thing," Amy offered.

Mac mumbled to himself," Dreaming. Dreaming, wouldn't that be something?" He was suddenly on his feet.

"I can give you a number." Amy got up, looking for her purse. "His name is Jim Maddox and he's working on this dream thing for some foundation. If he's not the top person, he'll get you to whoever is."

Amy found her address book and wrote down a number. "He loves this sort of thing."

"Mac, what are you manufacturing in that tortured mind of yours?" Amy asked as she handed him the number.

"This Donald's thing; it had me completely buffaloed," Mac was storming around the couch, unable to calm down.

"Geez Mac, I was just speculating, don't get too excited."

"An hour ago I was looking at a blank wall." Mac was on his circuit of the couch that took him close to Amy, "But now there's someplace to look." He stopped and put a friendly hand on her shoulder. "Your intuition got any more ideas?"

"Seriously?" Amy gave him a skeptical look.

"Seriously!" Mac shouted.

"Well, when I heard Donald was killed up there, a thought did pop into my head." Amy was hesitant; she looked to both Carl and Mac.

"Spit it out!" Mac said. "If you contribute enough, then we won't have to kill you for filling you in."

"This is just, ah; this is just a crazy thought." Amy hesitated, Mac and Carl waited. "Donald is the first person to ever die in space, right?"

"And you're saying?" Mac asked.

"I'm not saying anything. Is that a fact or not?"

"It's a fact."

"Amy, what are you getting at?" Carl asked.

"I don't know. It's just that Donald is the first human to die away from the surface of the planet, it has its possibilities."

"That doesn't make any sense," Mac argued.

"You asked me for some possibilities and I gave you some." Amy justified her thoughts.

"I appreciate it, really, but I need to go over something else, with Carl, if that's okay," Mac looked at Amy.

"I'll go wash my mouth out with soap," Amy sneered.

***

"We have a problem with Commander Realms," Mac said as soon as Amy was out of the room.

"What's up?" Carl asked.

"Kenny Keaton is really perturbed, wants Realms off the crew roster."

"Why?"

"Realms was difficult about cutting Donald loose, gave Keaton a rash of attitude."

"He was upset, he just lost one of his men and—"

"I went over the tapes," Mac cut Carl off, "Realms really balked when he shouldn't have."

"Is that enough to blackball him?"

"You know Keaton; he's on top of everything, and expects the same from his crews."

"Is he willing to cut Realms any slack?"

"I guess not, and I have to back him. I can't afford to distance a man as important as him, especially now."

"Boy, one thing after another," Carl sighed.

"You said it."

"I'll talk to Realms; maybe a big, old, sloppy apology could do some good."

"It couldn't hurt," Mac agreed.

"What kind of pressure did Winston put on us, telling the public we'd be ready to get Donald in so short a time?" Carl asked.

"Almost insurmountable, but Keaton said it can be done."

"Safely?"

"Winston forgot to consider that."

Chapter 5

THE FIRST PRESS CONFERENCE - "Good afternoon Ladies and Gentlemen, my name is Carl Boroughs. The Space Shuttle Reunion landed this morning and as you all know, it landed with one of its crew missing. Lieutenant Colonel Donald the science officer aboard Reunion was working on the Mandrake Satellite, upgrading its photo recognition software, when his space suit and enviably Donald himself was struck by a foreign object at 12.26 Geneva time. The object punctured his space suit causing immediate loss of his environment, which in turn resulted in his instant death. It was a painful decision, but to protect the ecosystem of Earth it was necessary to leave Donald in orbit and he will be retrieved by a Special Mission. That mission will make sure that there will be no contamination when he is returned home. The Special Mission is in the planning stage and will be ready within thirty-five days."

Carl put down the prepared speech he had read from. "The reports of Donald being alive, or in any kind of contact with us or anybody else are completely false. There were some communication glitches during the mission and this led to all the speculations."

Carl was finished with his press release. "Now, we will answer any of your questions," Carl said.

There was an immediate out pouring of yells, all requesting to be heard.

Carl pointed out to the audience and a man stood up. "Jim Wilson, New York Times," the man introduced himself.

"Mr. McMillian, do you agree with the assessment that Mr. Boroughs has just announced."

Mac moved over to the microphones. "Yes, I have great faith in my people and they have worked very hard to understand the situation."

"But do you agree?" Jim Wilson asked.

"Of course."

Carl pointed to another reporter. The woman stood, "Amanda Firth, National Register. Mr. Boroughs, can you explain why Astronaut Donald is still in orbit."

"I thought I did."

"Then what is your definition of, 'contamination of the ecosystem'."

"It is possible that an unknown substance or organism could completely predominate, if it was to get loose."

"Am I hearing what I think I am," Amanda really poured on the suspicion. "You're worried about the end of us all?"

"I am!" Carl stated "We all live with possibilities and we try to gauge the proper responses. If this Agency did not properly estimate the situation and we were amiss, the consequences could be dire and that we cannot chance."

The audience was quiet for a moment, writing furiously. Mac had a pleased expression on his face. The reporter's heads came back up almost in unison and the din returned. Carl pointed to another reporter.

"Moray Cain, LA times," the man said. "Does the fact that there are now three mission failures have any effect on the moral of your agency?"

"That is not true," Carl corrected. "We had two previous mission failures. This last one was not a failure, the mission was completed."

"You lost a man!"

"The systems, the personnel all worked perfectly. A small piece of space debris punctured Donald's suit, killing him," Carl hesitated. "One man. There were five others on the mission and they all returned safely."

"And he's still up there."

"He will be retrieved in approximately thirty to thirty-five days, as I reported." Carl panned out over the audience. "Look, this is a dangerous business. For me or anyone else to deny that would be irresponsible. We are taking risks every time we launch, and you take risks every time you get in your car."

Mac moved over to the mike, as the reporters clamored to be chosen. "I think that is all we have for now," he announced and headed off the stage, Carl right behind him.

"Donald is still alive!" one of the reporters shouted.

Carl stopped. "That is completely false," he said and then continued on.

"Damn good job," Mac told Carl as they headed down the hall.

"You know, were going to have to repeat this over and over until we can get Donald back," Carl said, sounding tired.

"Refine it as best you can," Mac said to Carl, "I'm counting on you to keep them interested in what we have to say, and call a meeting of department heads. I want a think tank to go over possibilities." Mac said to Carl as they headed in opposite directions.

***

Kenny Keaton, the mission controller was sitting in Mac's office, discussing the rescue mission to retrieve Donald.

"How far along is the containment capsule," Mac asked.

"It's done, they're just testing the locking systems and the filters," Kenny said. "I'm going with the schedule. I can't see bumping it up any." Kenny was waiting for a protest.

"No, make sure of everything! The last thing we need is to hurry and have anything else happen," Mac said, and Kenny nodded agreement.

There was a knock on Mac's door. Through the glass they could see it was Denny Cornell the computer specialist. Mac signaled with his hand for him to come in.

"Mac, Kenny, you've got to see this," Denny said, rushing through the door. "Channel fifty-two, hurry."

Mac picked up the remote and changed the channel.

"As I've already told you, I have been deep in prayer, and the Lord has spoken to me, and He has confirmed to me that Revelations is upon us," the wild looking speaker broadcasted, his voice booming, drawing everyone in. He was very tall. He looked to be close to seven feet if you compared him to the interviewer, a substantial man in his own rights that had to look almost straight up to see the raging face of the doom preacher. His cheeks were sunken in, his eyes deep set with a rainbow of dark, menacing colors permeating the skin surrounding them. He had dark, thick eyebrows that were as wild and unkept as his hair. It was difficult to determine the color of that, being it was very dirty and very matted in places and sticking out in others.

"The Devil has arrived in the vicinity of our blessed home and right now is circling, looking for the place to descend. He is looking for the largest concentration of sinners, then he need not waste time. For if he falls to a congregation of those who relish his promises of damnation, his takeover will be swift, total, and irreversible." Spittle was flying from his mouth, defined by angry, pencil thin, red lips, surrounded by a scraggly beard and finished inside by crooked yellow teeth. The man holding the mike looked like he was ready to duck if the ranting speaker was to direct his tirade down to him. But, for the moment, the preacher was content to spout his rhetoric straight out to the greater audience, the spit flying over the interviewer's head.

"Do not come to me," the preacher continued, "this is not a warning for you to heed. This is not an attempt to save your souls, or your miserable existences. This is not anything more than a revelation of the 'Revelation'." He turned quickly, and it took a full second for his ill-fitting, dirty black clothing to catch up. He laugh with a sinister cackle and said over his shoulder, "God Bless You All."

Mac was staring, almost dumb founded, at the totally ridiculous figure on the TV in front of him. "What the hell was that?" he asked Kenny Keaton.

"Just a different opinion. There's a lot of them going around right now," Kenny answered.

"You consider that an opinion?" Mac said, pointing at the TV. "I consider that a crock of shit."

"Why?"

"I don't know? Christ Keaton, I've got work to do, and that guy obviously has never taken that concept seriously."

"That guy is the Reverend Hollsworth," Denny advised.

"He looked like he crawled out from under a rock," Mac commented.

"He did, but prior to his sliding under that rock, he was a very influential man."

"Hollsworth? Hollsworth? Where have I heard that name before?" Mac was sure it had a familiar ring to it.

"Jedadia Hollsworth, the preacher to the masses."

"He's the guy that had that huge following, the, what did they call it?" Kenny said.

"The House of Truth."

"Yeah, that's it." Mac sounded relieved. "What happened to him." Mac nodded his head in the direction of the TV.

"He bowed out. Shut everything down one day, without an explanation, and was gone from the scene. This is the first time he's surfaced in almost ten years," Denny explained.

"I never really followed his message, what was it?" Mac asked.

"He preached salvation through understanding. He was a liberal. His main theme was that God was responsible for evolution. It was His divine tool to pull us out of the past and prepare us for the future," Denny said

"He had one hell of a following, I remember that," Kenny added.

"He did," Denny agreed.

"Do you think anyone will listen to him? I mean whoa, he was scary," Mac said.

"I'm listening," Keaton stated, getting up to leave.

"I want everyone back in half an hour," Mac said, as the door closed behind Kenny.

***

"Okay people, what are the possibilities?" Mac looked at the individuals sitting around his office.

"What are the parameters?" Dennis Cornell the computer geek asked.

"Were looking for anything that could possibly relate to an individual dying up there, any anomalies," Walter Wills the head of the engineering division said.

"We don't really understand what happens to a person when they die at our feet," Melanie Monroe the Agency's head physician said.

"They start to smell!" Spencer Abraham the head mathematician jumped in. Everyone grimaced; Spencer was known for his antics.

"And you're asking for a competent analysis of expiring in a complete vacuum," Melanie continued, giving Spencer a look, "diminished gravitational pull, extreme temperatures, and radiation blasting away? Is that a summation of what you're asking?"

"Melanie, how good of you to simplify it for all of us," John Mathews the communication genius laughed. He sat shaking his head.

"I can narrow it down," Spencer piped up.

"Go ahead," Mac said.

"How can someone possibly stay alive in the conditions Melanie pointed out for us?"

"Bingo," Carl said.

"Or any part of still alive," Melanie added.

"How can someone only die a little?" Spencer asked again.

"Coma comes to mind," Melanie said.

"The individual is still alive, just out of direct mental contact," Jim said. "Apparently Donald is dead and in contact, the direct opposite."

"I still think the explosive force of the decompression whacked out the sensor," Dennis said.

"We're all hoping for that," Mac said.

"What are we not hoping for?" Jim asked.

"That Donald was hammered into some sort of cosmic dimension and can't be stopped," Dennis said.

"You and your search for weird computer games," Spencer said.

"Damn Spencer, what a hell of an idea," Dennis returned, "I'm going to be rich."

"Dennis the Menace has an interesting point you know," Walt said.

"In what way?" Mac asked.

"Donald took a hell of a shot in a nasty place, and even if we put our heads together and form a giant rock pile, the answer will still probably be beyond our comprehension."

"Thanks Walt," Carl said.

"Hey, I'm just admitting to the befuddlement I'm feeling," he came back.

"Let's try not to get too far out there, huh," Mac said.

"I don't know what could possibly be happening?" Melanie said. "We don't have any experience with something like this and experience is what we need to have to learn."

"Hey," Spencer said, "think we could scrape up a few volunteers and find the answers."

"Why was he invited?" Jim asked.

"I assumed he might have something to add." Mac gave Spencer a nasty look.

Spencer just rolled his eyes.

"Are we getting anywhere?" Jim asked, sounding annoyed. "I do have some work I need to get to."

"Are we getting anywhere people?" Mac asked.

"Yeah, I got a headache," Carl said, "and I didn't have one before I came in here."

"You're supposed to be helping me run this meeting, not trying to get out of it," Mac said.

"Could Donald be a problem?" Walt asked quietly.

"Of course he's a problem, that's why we're here, duh," Spencer was back on his horse.

"Yeah he's a problem," Carl added. "We've got a lot of explaining to do about what we intend to do."

"Which is?" Dennis asked.

"Get him back, for starters," Carl said.

"That's not the problem I was wondering about," Walt said quietly again.

"Spit it out," Mac said.

"Cosmic dimensions and can't be stopped, I think Dennis alluded too," Walt almost whispered.

"Jesus Walt, I definitely asked that we not get too far out there," Mac jumped in.

"I'm sorry, we were supposed to be exploring all possibilities," Walt tried to defend himself.

"I was just kidding, but if Gyro Gearlub took me serious, there might be something to it," Dennis said.

"For Christ sakes!" Mac exclaimed. "This is getting out of hand."

"I agree," Melanie said.

"Kenny, you haven't said anything." Mac looked over at Keaton who seemed to be detached from the others.

"I don't have anything to add."

"What were you plotting just then?" Carl asked.

"I was, ah . . . I'd rather not say."

"Oh come on Kenny," Carl prodded. "You've got the best overview of the whole mission, something must come to mind?"

"I wasn't thinking about the mission. I can't get Hollsworth out of my mind."

"Oh for Christ sakes Kenny, that crazy bastard," Mac exclaimed.

"Who's Hollsworth?" Spencer asked.

"The loon that was just on TV," Mac said.

"The disheveled old coot that was howling about Revelations, that was Jedadia Hollsworth?" Melanie asked.

"The one and the same," Mac answered.

"I used to take him serious," Melanie said quietly, but obviously bothered.

"The Truth, something or other, right," Spencer added, "My old man was never religious, but I remember him watching that guy and saying that he was someone that had something to say."

"That's him," Kenny affirmed.

"Life hasn't been very kind to him," Spencer mocked.

"He was once a very rich and influential individual." Melanie gave Spencer a dirty look.

"So, it's not my fault he smoked too much good shit," Spencer laughed.

"What's all this about, Jedadia Hollsworth?" Carl asked.

"He was on TV, just about half an hour ago," Denny said. "You know who he is?"

"Yeah, met him once," Carl said smiling.

"Really," Mac commented. "I never knew you had a thing for Evangelists?"

"Still don't," Carl said. "We were in this hellasious fire fight in Duc Duc Province, running low on ammo, water, a lot of KIA's and wounded. The first choppers were just getting to us and we were still taking fire. About the third or fourth chopper comes roaring in, barely skimming the surface, the crew throwing out supplies. This really tall, skinny character comes gliding out the side, tumbles a couple of times, dusts himself off, a can of ammo under one arm and a Jerry Can full of water under the other. It's Hollsworth, coming to see how we're doing. The brass about shit because here's this notable religious character delivering ammo to the troops. They finally got him out about an hour later."

"I never heard about that," said Kenny.

"They covered it up!" Carl declared. "Hollsworth bullied and coerced his way in, and they didn't want to admit that someone could get away with that sort of thing."

"You said you met him," Melanie said kind of in awe.

"Yeah, like I said, he was down about an hour. Another guy and myself got put on him, like guards. He was fascinating to say the least. His contention was that praying was okay, when you didn't really need to do something at the moment. He said it was a tool to relax and reassure. He said praying in the foxhole was a waste of time because a prayer couldn't change the path of a bullet." Carl looked at Mac. "What did he have to say today?"

"He seems to have taken on a rougher tone from when you knew him," Mac said.

"Oh yeah," Carl said.

"Yeah, not more than forty minutes ago, he was right there on the television telling us all 'that we be screwed'."

Carl didn't say anything, just had a puzzled look. It looked like the meeting of the minds had blunted everyone's, so Mac spoke up. "Okay, we have failed for now, but I want each of you to compile an informal report covering this. Just thoughts, and we'll meet tomorrow and see if we are any clearer of mind," he instructed. "Denny, could you stay for a moment?" Mac asked the computer man.

***

"Have you gotten anything from Marge Grimmer?" Mac asked when everyone but Dennis had filed out of his office.

"No one could be grimmer than Marge," Dennis said, "she keeps her work close."

"That damn program she wrote, is it the cause of all this?"

"Of course!" Dennis exclaimed. "Now, is it fooling us into thinking something's there, when it isn't, or is it telling us that there is actually something to ponder? I have no idea, and either does Marge. This stuff of her's was just an add on, no one expected it to be the focus."

***

Carl caught Kenny outside the office." Can I talk to you about Realms?" Carl asked.

"He is out," Kenny simply stated.

"I'm not going to try and block your decision, but I want you to consider the facts."

"I already did! We can't have personnel that question the policies or orders to act irrationally. Realms was considering jeopardizing the entire program from a selfish position."

"Selfish, he was concerned about Donald."

"He was emotional, concerned about his feeling of loss and there is no place for it. With all his training he knew Donald was killed instantly. My fourth grade daughter understands what happens when a space suit is punctured in space."

"You don't see a spot for Realms then?"

"Realms is in denial. If he can get past that, the story might be different."

"That's all I ask," Carl said, as Kenny walked away.

Chapter 6

MAC WAS SITTING BEHIND HIS DESK - and Carl was seated in the corner. Jim Maddox, the man Amy had recommended, and a woman Jim felt could add some insight were sitting on the far side of Mac's desk.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice," Mac said.

"Gentleman, this is a colleague of mine, Alice Smithers." Jim gestured to Alice. "I hope you don't mind her tagging along? Alice is why I can stay focused most of the time."

"Nice to meet you." Alice nodded to Carl, then Mac, "But I can't imagine what TSA could want from me?"

"I was wondering about that myself?" Jim added with a chuckle.

Mac picked a folder off his desk and removed some papers, then slid them across his desk to Jim and Alice. "Take a look at these and tell me what you think?"

Jim and Alice each took a couple and looked.

"What am I supposed to be looking for?" Alice asked first.

"We were hoping you could make some sense out of that material," Mac sounded disappointed.

"I have to know what I'm looking for." Alice looked up to Mac. "Are these someone's dreams?" she added after a moment.

Both Mac and Carl sat forward.

"You recognize the data then?" Mac asked.

"Sort of," Alice returned.

"Meaning?" Mac returned.

"It's vaguely familiar, but I mostly asked that question because that's my field, and why else would you want to talk to me."

"Oh." Mac sat back in his chair.

"Mac, I think in order to help you, Alice and I need to be informed," Jim jumped in. "We have no idea what you want. Amy was extremely tight lipped about this meeting."

"Yes, you're correct, but this is such a sensitive situation and I must warn you, to continue any farther," Mac sounded official and intimidating, "we must have some guarantees of absolute secrecy from both of you, and any indiscretion on either one of your parts could mean dire consequences for both of you."

Alice sat back in her chair and smiled at Mac. "In other words, you were hoping that we could give you what you wanted, without informing us of the total situation."

"It would have been much easier that way, yes," Mac conceded.

Alice took one of the sheets of paper and pointed it at Mac. "Sorry, but all I can say about this data," she looked at the paper, "is that it appears to be a brain scan. It could be a dog, a monkey, or a human. Any two year medical student could have told you that."

Mac turned to Carl and spoke directly to him, "I'm not sure how to continue here?"

"Look Mac, we've got to figure this out, and maybe they can help and maybe they can't, but we aren't getting anywhere this way," Carl advised.

"Okay Jim, Alice," Mac used a friendlier tone, "we might need your help, if only to eliminate possibilities, but can you accept our terms?"

"You don't want anything leaving this office?" Jim asked.

"That's basically it," Mac returned

"Why the big meany speech?" Alice asked.

Mac was silent, trying to formulate an answer.

"It's a testosterone thing," Carl added quickly. "It's tough to regulate."

Alice burst out laughing. Mac gave Carl a peeved look, and Jim just smiled.

"I suppose I could stick my neck out a little," Jim said, after Alice had quit laughing.

Mac looked directly at Jim. "You need to sign some papers and you had better take them real serious. Can you do that?"

"I'll go for it; I only hope it's worth it?" Jim answered.

"And you Miss Smithers?" Mac looked at Alice.

"Ah, I'm not saying yeah or neah, until I read what I'm going to sign."

"Fair enough," Mac called to the outer office on the intercom. "Bring in the contracts."

A secretary walked into the office and handed Mac a folder. Mac opened it and took out papers, handing two to Jim, two to Alice. "Read carefully."

Mac sat back and waited while Jim and Alice read. Jim finished and moved the paper down. "Is this thing that serious?"

"You sign, and then we talk," Mac said.

Alice put the papers down on the table. "What guarantees do we have that you'll be fair? This is some serious stuff, if you start playing games."

"Why would we play games?" Mac was annoyed.

"Oh, say you don't get what you want?" Alice said.

"Then you're clear," Mac snarled.

"What if we come up with something you don't like?" Jim asked.

"We are looking for possibilities. We have no intention of holding anything against you," Mac said frustrated.

"Make a notation to that effect, and I'll sign," Alice said, pushing one of the papers toward Mac.

Mac took the paper and wrote furiously, then pushed it back to Alice. She read, took out her pen and signed. "I'm all signed up, spill your guts." She pushed the paper back to Mac.

"Maddox?" Mac looked at Jim.

"Oh, what the hell." Jim put his paper on the table and took the pen from Alice and signed. Mac got up and retrieved the papers and put them in the folder. He put the folder on the desk and then turned to Jim and Alice. "This data is coming from a Colonel Donald; do you know who he is?"

Jim reached for the data and spoke at the same time. "Whoa!"

"Whoa is right!" Alice added, taking her share of the data. "I thought Donald was killed? We are talking about the astronaut, aren't we?"

"Yes, we are talking about the astronaut, and yes, he was killed," Mac concurred.

"This doesn't make any sense. These readings are coming from something that is alive," Jim said, fanning the data.

"That's the problem in a nut shell." Carl had gotten up and was walking up to face Jim and Alice. "Donald was killed, but we're still getting this information from him."

"Wwhaaat!" Alice kind of laughed. "You've most certainly got some malfunctioning equipment."

"Not the case! Everything is working fine and those signals are genuine," Mac stated.

"I don't get it? He can't be dead then," Alice continued.

Carl looked at Jim and Alice with a serious look. "Believe us, he is. His life signs are all negative and remember that he has been out there ninety some hours. No oxygen, subjected to a total vacuum, well over boiling on the sunny side and minus two hundred degrees in the shade. His environment has been compromised, he is dead!"

"Now wait a sec, you said his life signs are negative, then where are these readings coming from?" Alice asked.

"As you can imagine, we have an extraordinary amount of sensors on our people out there," Mac explained. "Along with all the standard sensors, we constantly add. Some we understand, some we just speculate on. The data is coming from a new Alpha Wave sensor."

"What do you think Alpha Waves are supposed to be?" Jim asked.

"We don't really know. We just get the signals. We know that they are probably part of the subconscious." Mac Looked at Jim and Alice. "Maybe dreaming?" he sounded hopeful.

"I'm sorry gentlemen, but I must inform you that these are not consistent with a normal dream pattern," Alice said and then moved close to Jim and pointed to the data on the paper she was talking about. "See here Jim, the pattern is to consistent overall. A person's dreams are much more, ah, ah, I'm missing the thought here."

"What Alice is trying to say is a dreaming person has very undulating graphs. We have many stages of sleep and dreams occur only in one stage. So the pattern of data would be inconsistent and in blocks, not like all this. This as you can see is very even and continuous as hell, which leads me to believe that this subject is awake and has been since the start of the data. Have you compared this with the data you were getting from him before the accident?"

Mac answered Jim. "The data you're looking at is not consistent with the data collected before the accident."

"What's the difference with them?" Jim asked.

"The signals after the accident are much stronger."

"What about the data?" Alice asked.

"It's hard to say, we never really understood it in the first place," Mac sort of chuckled.

"What do you mean by stronger signals?" Jim asked.

"The energy of the data increased," Mac said.

Jim thought for a moment. "But the data was the same?"

"We're not sure. Like I said, we didn't understand it in the first place." Mac shrugged again.

"You're looking in the wrong place!" Jim stated confidently.

"What makes you think that?" Mac sounded annoyed.

"You don't understand the data, you know that. Alice has devised an extraordinary program that might recognize this data if it correlates in any way shape or form to our research."

"We need to know, either way, so if you can get us some answers, you can try anything you want," Mac agreed.

"It may turn out to be nothing," Alice advised.

"That's still something." Mac gestured with his hands open. "It would eliminate one idea and allow us to concentrate in other directions. Besides, you might come up with something and then you'd be my heroes. Get on with it and remember those papers you signed, they are for real!"

"I hope we can help," Alice said. "Say, ah," she hesitated "I didn't know who you fellows were at first, or what this was all about, but now I'm curious. Am I allowed to ask a question?"

"That depends? You ask and we'll see if we have an answer," Mac returned.

Alice hesitated again, sitting forward. "Winston Adams must be driving you guys crazy. Am I right?"

"He's getting a little out of line, yes. Why do you ask?" Mac looked at her seriously.

"Whinny's always been a little troublesome," Alice stated.

"Whinny?" Mac's eyebrows rose. "Do you know Adams?"

"We grew up on the same block," Alice said. "I've known him since grade school, but I haven't seen him for years though."

"Tell us what you know about him, please." Carl was the curious one now.

"Oh, I'm not going to talk about someone like that. Winston is a little creepy, but deep down he's okay. He doesn't mean to be the way he is."

"We need to know Alice." Carl stood over her, trying to look friendly. "Winston has been causing us some real problems."

"Look, you guys asked me here to discuss something pertaining to my field and I will contribute with all my heart, but asking me to snitch, and, or smear an acquaintance is out of the question."

"He might be stepping over the edge," Mac warned. "If you can shed a little light, you might be helping him."

"Hey, I know that Winston can be a real pain in the ass, but that's your problem. He's never done anything to me."

Mac looked at Alice. "We don't want you to smear him, but if you know anything that could get him out of the picture—"

"You Son-of-a-bitch!" Alice yelled, interrupting him. "You know, I liked you, but you just showed your true colors.

"Hold it, hold it!" Carl jumped in. "Goddamn Mac, what the hell's gotten into you. We don't need anybody to do our dirty work. Winston's our problem and if he gets his ass in the shit, that's his problem. I'm surprised at you!"

Carl turned to Alice. "You'll have to excuse my colleague, Winston's got him upset."

"Winston has got everyone upset," Mac sort of grumbled to no one in particular.

"Whinny can do that to people," Alice said. "He knows things that he shouldn't."

"What, you're saying is he's physic or something like that?" Mac asked cynically.

"I don't think it!" Alice stated emphatically. "I've seen it. He was a very strange kid, and like I said he knew things, and it scared the crap out of people. He doesn't mean to cause you so much trouble. He's probably just rubbing your noses in this thing. Whinny was always trying to help, to advise, because he knew certain things, but many people didn't appreciate him and he got beat up more than once.

"In your opinion, he can see into the future?" Carl was interested in this new twist.

"I'm not sure what he does? He just seems to be able to know things, sometimes. You have to realize, I haven't seen him for many years, like I said."

"How long?" Carl asked.

"Ah, let's see, ahum, he was at my sister's wedding. That would be, ah, twelve years. Yeah, we were both just out of college."

"Did you talk to him then?" Carl asked.

"A little, Winston doesn't talk too much."

"How did he seem?" Carl continued.

"I didn't really notice." Alice stopped and looked at Carl. "Wait, you're baiting me." She jumped to her feet. "Now I don't like you either," she shouted at Carl. "Dammit Jim, I knew these gov types couldn't be trusted! Fuck you guys!" Alice yelled at Carl and Mac, turning toward the door.

"Whoa, whoa, lady." Carl moved to cut her off. "You misunderstand. We don't want to hurt anyone; we just need some answers, that's all."

"Oh yeah, to fry someone's ass!" Alice was trying to get around Carl who was maneuvering to keep her from the door. "So no thanks!"

"No, no, look, I'll tell you something." Carl was calm, putting his two hands on Alice's shoulders, looking her in the eyes. "Before you shed this little bit of light on us, we were of the opinion that Winston was getting his information illegally. We are obligated to act accordingly, but if what you are telling us has some validity, Winston is still a thorn in our sides, but there are no laws against what he's doing."

"Something terrible isn't going to happen to him over all this, is it?" Alice sounded concerned.

"What do you mean by that?" Carl asked.

Alice turned back into the office and sort of slumped. "People get really weird about this sort of thing. I mean, I saw it happen. Everyone thought he was sneaking around, ah, doing something bad. You wouldn't believe the things that were said, Devil, Witch, Warlock, that sort of thing. The police arrested him more than once and even put him in reform school for six weeks because they said he was breaking into houses. He just knew things about people and everyone assumed that he was going in their homes."

"You believed him then, that he was just reading minds or something?" Carl asked.

"Sure, I knew him better. We were sort of friends and he was really kind of sweet. He would never hurt anyone. It was really hard for him, being so different."

"Alice, for Winston's good, do not divulge this information to anyone else, okay?" Carl advised

"Somebody would hurt him?"

"Remember how he scared people when he was a kid? He's gotten himself in the big league now, and when they get scared, they hurt, for real."

***

After Jim Maddox and Alice Smithers had left the office, Mac and Carl discussed the meeting.

"What do you think Mac, could Winston be getting his information like she implied?"

"Christ, I don't even like to think about it. What the hell are we going to do if it's true?"

"Shoot, I don't want to think about the possibilities either, but we can't let this get out. If it does, Winston will be number one on the hit list by dark."

"Why are you concerned about Winston, he's always trying to ruin our day just for something to do?"

"Because this is a bad time for something to happen to him. The suspicion would be directly on the program, you know that."

"That's the least of our worries. Have you considered the problems of our credibility if this gets out? You know what's going to happen? Winston will be the expert everyone goes to."

"I hadn't considered that."

***

Jim and Alice were walking toward their car.

"Do you think those guys are putting us on?" Alice asked.

"Why would they do that?" Jim returned.

"Oh hell, who knows, they're government people. They can't be trusted, remember."

"Alice, we're not in academia anymore, you don't have to be so left wing."

"Just habit I guess." Alice reached for the car door. "But, I just can't get a grasp on what they expect from us, I mean, it's obvious they have some equipment malfunction."

"They seem sure that they don't."

"Jim, Jim, what else could it be?"

"Oh, I couldn't even hazard a guess. Let's say they're on the up and up. What would you think then?"

"You know Winston alluded to the possibility this was some sort of secret mission. What about that possibility?" Alice asked Jim. They were on different sides of the car, both standing with their elbows resting on the top of the car, discussing the situation.

"When did he do that?"

"On his last telecast, you didn't see it?"

"No, missed that one." Jim paused, thinking. "Why would they be trying to get outside people involved, if they know what's going on?"

"Something went wrong?"

"Could be."

"Keep the interest focused someplace else?"

"Could be." Jim was clicking his tongue, thinking. "If we just walk away, it might be the best thing to do?"

"I'm too damn curious to do that."

"Yeah, me too." Jim smacked the top of the car. "I guess we'll have to look at this thing like it really exists. Could Donald be alive?"

"I don't see how, considering the time he's been out there."

"We have to assume that he's dead then, and that the equipment is working properly, and there are signals coming from him, from his brain. What does it mean?

"That he is not completely dead," Amy stated.

"That's what I get too, but there's no rational explanation?"

"Is it possible to be clinically dead and still function mentally?"

"I imagine that it could be possible for a short period, but not as long as he's been out there," Jim said.

"Maybe up there it's different? Maybe up there in that environment he could still be functioning?"

"What kind of statement is that?"

"Oh, just something that Amy commented on when she set the meeting up."

"What did she say?" Jim asked.

"That Donald was the first one to die up there."

"That's true, but what would that have to do with anything?"

"How should I know?" Alice reached for the door handle. "You know, there might just be someone that might have some answers," Alice said quietly, pulling open the door.

"Are you referring to your long lost friend Adams?"

"Hey, it wouldn't be the first time that he was privy to something that no one else was."

"Oh come on Alice, you're not kids anymore. This is grownup stuff; Winston is no more psychic than you or I."

"Jim, we may have been kids, but I wasn't dumb back then either, and Winston wasn't normal, I can guarantee you that. Why don't you throw all this data into the computer and see if it recognizes anything, and I'll talk to Winston?"

"Do you think that's wise? I don't think we got the okay to stick our noses too far into this mess. I don't want to get on the wrong side of those gov types."

"Why Jim, how left wing of you. They asked us to help, didn't they?"

"Yeah, but they didn't say anything about interviewing anyone," Jim said uneasy.

"Stop worrying, besides I'm an old friend. Winston is not likely to talk to someone he doesn't trust and it would be wonderful to talk to him."

"Aren't you a little worried about this?"

"Jim, I'm an irresponsible idiot when it comes to worrying about sticking my foot in the bucket," Alice said sliding into her seat. "Just ask my mother."

"What about you?" Alice continued, when Jim started the car.

"Oh, I'm curious, but I don't know. I'm not as cavalier as you."

"If something goes wrong, you can blame it on me."

"Don't worry, I will," Jim said putting the car in gear."

Chapter 7

ALICE SMITHERS HAD HER PHONE TO HER EAR - "Hi Winston, Alice Smithers. It's been a long, long time, how are you?"

"Alice, my gosh, it has been a long time," Winston replied into his phone. "It's great to hear from you. I think the last time we talked was what, ten or so years back?"

"Karen's wedding, twelve years ago. You've gotten a little notoriety since then."

"Is that why you called?" Winston didn't sound suspicious.

"I guess it is. It's easy to forget old friends, but when I saw you on the tube, I thought about calling. Sorry I waited so long."

"Oh, that's okay; you've always been a friend. I know how things can occupy your time to the point that the past isn't important. What are you doing for a living these days?

"I've got a good job; it's exciting, keeps food on the table and me out of trouble."

"You never minded a little trouble when you were younger. All grown up now Alley?"

"We don't have any choice, do we?"

"No. we don't, do we? Are you in town? Can we get together?"

"Of course, that's why I called, and besides you do owe me a dinner, I think?"

"Of course I do. It's been a long time since I've had a pizza."

"Oh yes, I can relate, and I know a wonderful place. Let me give you the address. Is nine okay?"

"It's perfect."

***

"My gosh Winston, you do look debonair," Alice said, as Winston walked up to the table where she was already seated. "I hope the atmosphere is okay. I know this place is a little funky?"

"Funky, I haven't heard that term for a long time. You used to use it a lot. Of course now that you're a woman of the world, I assume that you have upgraded your slang."

"Of course, I just save the oldies for the goodies."

"Ah ha, always the diplomat. So, what does my long lost friend do now, that keeps her out of trouble?"

"I'm doing research for the Protell group."

"Whoa ho, big time. I'm not surprised though because you always did have a curious mind. What kind of research?"

"Ahum, I guess you'd call it dream research."

"Whoa again. Interesting, we certainly do dream. Are you finding anything interesting?

"Oh yeah, but so far, I can definitely say that it is far beyond our real understanding."

"The mind is a very confusing arena all right."

"Winston, I have a confession to make."

"Oh don't apologize. I'd be disappointed if you didn't want to talk to me. After all I have a strange mind, and you are naturally curious. It would only make sense that you would like to discuss this sort of thing with me."

"Gee Winston, that's not the only reason. I've really thought about you quite often, but you know how it is?"

"Yeah I know, but I'm guilty of the same thing. You know, you, your sister, and brother were the only real friends I had in the old neighborhood, and I haven't kept in touch with you guys. I guess our priorities just change."

"You must be very busy these days; I imagine a high power job like yours is not easy."

"Not a bit. It is a battle. I use to worry about people not liking me, but now it's a lot more serious. Back then, they just thought I was weird, but now they really hate me."

"Now Winston, you just scare them, that's all. Like I told you a long time ago, don't tell them anything if you don't want to be chastised. They're just stupid; they don't know that you can see things they can't."

"I wish I couldn't you know."

"I know, I know, you always wanted to be like the rest of us, but it's something special. You've got to live with it. Just quit making it so damn obvious."

"Is that what I'm doing?"

"I saw you on national TV three times yesterday and you weren't in the back ground either," Alice lectured.

"It's my job," Winston said calmly.

"But you're kind of dictating the process."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?"

"Kind of looks like it."

"This thing with the astronauts," Winston paused.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"Two things actually: one, that's why you're here." Winston looked at Alice and waited.

"Yeah," she confessed "but I got involved and I didn't know where else to go."

"That brings up number two." Winston sort of smiled, "There's something they don't know."

"Obviously!" Alice remarked. She waited for Winston to add something, but it was obvious he was not going to continue.

"Who doesn't know what?"

"I'm sorry I brought it up."

"Come on Whinny, you can talk to me."

"I haven't anything to say that would make any sense to you," Winston said, shrugging his shoulders. "Now what about the family?" Winston asked, changing the subject. "How about Karen, is she doing well?"

"She's fine, not married anymore, as you guessed."

"It was no guess; he was a bad person for her. Is she still pee-ood at me? I know I shouldn't have said anything at the wedding, but you know me."

"It's okay. She isn't mad at you. She understood that you were just trying to help and you were right. So if I was you, I would call her. She'd love to hear from you."

"I'll do that. Now what else do you want to know?"

"Now Winston, don't be so harsh. What makes you think I'm here to pick your brain?"

"Alley, this is Whinny. I know, you want to know something. What is it?"

"I can level with you then?"

"I wish you would."

"I have to bring up the astronaut thing again."

"Why?"

"I have been asked to help solve a little problem, a very sensitive problem. I don't know if I should be talking to you about it, but you seem to be somewhat involved."

Winston looked intently at Alice, not saying a word, just staring.

"You haven't lost the talent have you? I still remember that stare, that look that can see into someone's head."

"You don't know what you're getting into; this Donald thing is something very different."

"What do you mean by that?

"I don't know?"

"Not talking huh?"

"No, really, I actually don't know. Something is happening and I don't have the slightest idea what it is."

"Is it dangerous?"

"I don't know. I haven't thought about that, but something is happening and it will change everything. People will be terrified, because they don't understand change, but I know things will never be the same again."

"Explain please."

"Why are you involved with this thing and those people?" Winston ducked the question again.

"I was asked. They're just trying to figure out what's going on."

"They're letting their huge egos get in the way, as usual. You know, I tried to warn them about Rendezvous and Redoubt and do you know what I got for it?"

"Whinny, you've gone through that sort of thing many times. Why does it surprise you now?"

"It was the look on those people's faces, watching Rendezvous going up, and the look as they watched that thing blow up. I warned them. I pleaded with them, and they said that they couldn't listen to every kook that came along."

"Winston, you of all people understand the reaction of society when they are confronted with something they don't understand."

"Alley, those people lost their lives through neglect. And then Redoubt. The same thing, and the people that didn't listen are still in responsible positions, why?

"It's politics Whinny; you know how important politics are."

"Politics makes life so cheap. Those guys in that program feel like they're so untouchable, and talk about righteous. My God, this thing with Donald is so far beyond their concept of understanding, and still they refuse to cooperate with anybody. They are in for one hell of a surprise, believe me."

"Whinny why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"I've asked you what's going on, and you won't tell me. Then you hash out your end of it. That's not fair Winston. Now, what the hell do you know?"

"I'm sorry Alley, but there's not much I can tell you, because I don't know. There is something happening, but I can't get a grasp on it."

"How do you know something's happening?" Alice was frustrated.

"I'm Winston for God sakes!" Winston almost shouted. "Look Alley, it's something that I can't explain," he said in a normal tone. "Please don't ask me anymore."

"If you get some answers, would you tell me then?"

"If I figure out what's going on, I will keep you informed, fair enough?"

"I can accept that."

"I kind of wish that you would keep yourself out of this thing though."

"Again why?"

"Because it could be something big, and if it is, people are going to want it, and then it might be dangerous."

"Something big, and you expect me to walk away?"

Winston didn't say anything.

Alice didn't say anything either, just fiddled with the glass in front of her, Winston watching her. She finally looked up at him. "You don't really want me to walk away, do you?"

Winston just shrugged.

"Dammit, this is playing out like one of those stupid books you read and hate." Alice looked directly at Winston, sliding her hands forward on the table. "You start reading, and there's something there, but then nothing develops, and you feel cheated."

Winston had an evil little smile. "But you still have to read on, otherwise you'd never find out if you were going to be disappointed."

"Why are you in this—this—thing?" Alice had no hint of a name for this thing they were discussing.

"It might be for personal gain."

"I know you Whinny, you don't do things for personal gain."

"I might have changed. I've gone through a lot and I might be just trying to get even."

"I doubt that. Since you were a kid, you were always trying to help."

Winston didn't comment, he just looked at Alice again. It was perhaps thirty-seconds before he spoke "I might need some help myself."

"Good, we can trade favors." Alice finally felt like she was getting somewhere.

Winston rested his elbows on the table, putting his fists together, and rested his chin on his knuckles. "What do you think of that Carl Boroughs?"

"Why are you asking me?"

"You met with him."

"I didn't say anything about—" Alice stopped, feeling kind of silly. Winston just looked at her with the grin still there, waiting for her answer.

"A pompous bureaucrat, maybe not as rigid as most," she said.

Winston sat back in his chair, his grin turning to a serious look. "I've been provoking him every chance I can, for a reason, but now I need to talk to him seriously."

***

"I think you should talk to Winston," Alice said to Carl. They were sitting on the edge of a fountain.

"We hate each other," Carl said matter of factually, "I don't think much would be accomplished."

"He said he's been roughing you up on purpose. He didn't elaborate why, but said he needed to talk to you."

"I don't know, he's on the other side of the fence." Carl sat thinking.

"Can't hurt to try," Alice coerced. "Give him some credit, you may be surprised."

"I'm not afraid to try, but you're wrong about can't hurt. I work for a very proud, dedicated program and they might not take too kindly to my fraternizing with the enemy."

"How are you going to figure this out, if you can't explore a little? I mean, if it's a situation that can be rectified from within, fine, if not, you're doing a disservice not to investigate."

"I hate people that make sense," Carl muttered.

***

Carl and Amy were back in the apartment.

"I put a call into Winston this afternoon," Carl said to Amy.

"That's your job."

"I've decided to be nice."

"Who's going to pay for that?" Amy said, looking at him with a quizzical look on her face.

"I can be nice if I need to be, without having to act on the shame I feel because of it."

"There's a terrific example."

"You know what I really like about you?" Carl said, grabbing her in a head lock. "You don't trust me."

"Why does that curdle your cream?" Amy said, punching him hard in the gut.

"It keeps me from disgracing myself," Carl let her go, rubbing his stomach.

The phone started to ring, Amy being closer answered it. "Hello Boroughs and Sands, if we can't fix it, it ain't broken." Who ever was on the other end made her laugh.

"Yeah, he's here, and I've softened him up for you," she laughed again.

"Winston Adams, yes, he's spoken of you . . . No, nothing good to say."

Carl grabbed the phone from her, and shaking his fist, gave her an; I'll get you later smile.

"Yeah Winston what do you want?"

Carl listened.

"I guess, . . . yeah, yeah, we've been acting like children . . . Hey, I said 'we' didn't I . . . Hey, if you can shed some light, I'd be more than willing to talk . . . Of course I can be civil. How about you? . . . Good, I'll call tomorrow."

"Did I hear this right, you and Winston playing kissy kissy?" Amy had an unbelieving look on her face.

"It was far from that!"

"But, still, Carl, my gosh, you have matured. Be careful though, I'm just here for the emotional superiority I feel when you act silly. You lose that little boy thing, and I may have to go elsewhere for gratification."

"Florence you Nightingale," Carl snarled.

Chapter 8

CARL WAS WALKING TOWARDS A GOLF RANGE - "That's not the worst slice I've ever seen," Carl stated dryly, walking up to Winston who had just hit a ball.

"It's consistent," Winston said, teeing up another range ball. "I used to know how to play it,"

"Used to?"

"When I was growing up my parents had a membership at a private club. We lived on the tenth hole, and I could go out anytime, by myself, and play and play and play. Just walk out there, throw a ball or two down and go. I got pretty good, so back then it was called a fade. I really enjoyed the solitude. Now I can't do that anywhere, so I don't play very much, and now it's back to a slice."

"Ah," Carl said, getting out a club, getting a ball and taking a swing.

"What's your fatal flaw with this game?" Winston asked, watching the shot he had just hit.

"I never got a chance to even get close to being good."

"No opportunity, or no desire?"

"One leads to the other. I grew up in the middle of a big city, and the only thing we used the nearby golf course for was getting Mary Lou alone in the dark."

"Then you have an honest love for the game."

"Yeah, I guess I do," Carl said cheerfully. "Before we go any farther, I need your explanation on something."

"How am I getting information that's classified?"

Carl didn't say anything.

"Come on Carl, we need to clear that up before we can even get in that cart together." Winston pointed to the golf cart they were going to share.

"Guess you're right there."

"I know Alice told you about me."

"Yeah."

"Did you believe her?"

"I'm the co-director of a government agency, and I'm in charge of public relations. I'm having a gigantic problem with a certain gentleman that knows things he shouldn't. Another person tells me; oh, this first guy, the one that knows too much, he's not cheating, he's just psychic."

"Yeah." Winston was shaking his head slowly, kind of snickering. "I can see where you'd have to be careful."

"Tell you what Winston," Carl said over his shoulder, heading for the golf cart. "I'm not going to believe anything, totally, yet, but that's not to say that you can't impress me in the future."

"I will be honest, I promise," Winston said, sitting down on the passengers side. "Now, about the game we came here to play?"

"I always play for money," Carl said, stepping on the accelerator.

"Sounds good to me." Winston smiled. "Can we trust each other to make some kind of fair wagger?"

"I doubt it." Carl looked over at Winston, a devious look on his face.

"Oh goody!" Winston yelped. "This is going to be fun."

***

"I'm glad we got together Winston," Carl commented out on the course after a few holes.

"You're comfortable with me because you're winning, or because I'm not such a bad guy."

"Ah, a little of both, but don't worry, I'm not the gloating type. Besides, I got over taking this game too serious a long time ago.

"Didn't help any?"

"Ran out of clubs."

"Did Mary Lou play golf?"

"In fact, she did. She loved that course, day and night."

"Heh, heh, heh, I can appreciate that. You guys getting anywhere with Donald?"

"Hell no! We can't get a line on anything. It's all still speculation."

"Don't be offended, but you're not thinking right. You're not looking in the right place."

"Meaning?" Carl looked quickly at Winston

"Carl, your people are engineers, scientists, mathematicians, right?"

"I know what we are, make some sense."

"Alice tells me that you have brought in a number of psychology experts, looking for mental aspects, mental irregularities, dreams, psychic possibilities, that direction."

"If you want to do Alice a favor, don't let anyone know we've talked."

"I understand."

"Yes, we're looking at all the possibilities?"

"It's a matter of advanced physics, I think. I would look there. Put your best math people on it."

"They've been complaining of head aches and chewing their nails like everyone else and have come up with nothing."

"I wish I could help more, but things just pop into my head and I have no idea why, sorry."

"Physics you say?"

"It all has something to do with a connection that is out of it's element. It was supposed to go away, be absorbed, something like that, but for some reason it didn't. That's all I'm getting. You need to define that connection, find out what it is.

"A connection, that's all you've got?"

"That's it," Winston sighed deeply and looked at Carl. His look was one of sincerity. "I know this because it is the same connection, the same thing that allows me to get into peoples thoughts. It's like a road, something I can travel to get somewhere. It is very real and very defined, when it's open. I would like someone to be able to explain it to me.

"That's why you're here?"

"It's time, I can feel it." Winston's thoughts seemed far away. "It's going to be just simple science, I know it."

"Simple, I don't think so?"

"It is a discovery waiting to be made." Winston looked at Carl. "Once it's discovered, it will be simple. Like everything we've discovered up to date. It will be a great discovery, something that will benefit us all. You aren't a religious man?"

"Is that a question or a statement?" Carl asked.

"I'm looking for confirmation."

"I'm not a religious man."

"Why?" Winston asked, looking seriously at Carl.

"Is this pertinent to anything, or you writing a book?"

"I'm not trying to be difficult or condescending, but I know that you have simple beliefs when it comes to religious matters.

"Simple as in?"

"I'm sorry if I sound like the old Winston, but if I don't explain, you will revert to the old Carl and we will make asses of ourselves on this beautiful day, at this wonderful place. It is imperative that you have a rational belief about many things, especially concerning God and associated issues. There's going to be people that won't believe it's simple science, and people that are going to want it for themselves. You will need to be able to rationalize, to remain objective. There will be some people you can trust, many that will disappoint you."

"Jesus Winston, you're scaring me. I'm just a simple man, and you're talking about monumental discoveries. You're talking like this could be some huge religious event, and to watch my back."

"It's not, but there will be attempts to make it look that way. In the end, it will all make sense and you Dinky, will be a part of it."

Chapter 9

CARL AND MAC ARE IN MAC'S OFFICE - "I am especially perturbed that you found it necessary to confide in Winston concerning our problems at this agency," Mac said to Carl.

"Winston is a problem," Carl stated. "How do you want me to handle it, put out a contract on him?"

"Jesus Carl, don't even kid about something like that," Mac said, jumping up from behind his desk.

"Well, what then?"

"I just don't like the idea of you getting chummy with him."

"I figured if Winston 'is' getting information, maybe he has an explanation."

"Not that bull Alice laid on us."

"I don't think it's bull, Mac."

"Carl!" Mac shouted. "This is a scientific program you and I are responsible for. I can't have my people running around, sighting hocus-pocus as a viable solution to our problems."

"Mac!" Carl shouted back. "We've got a dead man up there that's sending us signals from the most extreme environment imaginable. Talk about hocus-pocus. Winston said something that caught my attention," Carl said calmly "I think he may have special talents."

Mac didn't say anything. Carl could tell Mac wanted to continue with his tirade, to bully him into submission, but was unsure it would work.

"What's got you so convinced about Winston's special talents?" Mac said, sitting down.

"He called me Dinky."

"He was just insulting you."

"No, he wasn't."

"What are you getting at?"

"He called me a nickname, a name from the past."

"And you think he read your mind? Carl, he could have gotten information like that from a dozen places."

"No, no way."

"Carl, sham artists do it all the time. They—"

"No way Mac," Carl interrupted.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Mac, remember my entire family was killed a long time ago."

"Yeah, car accident wasn't it? What has that got to do with Winston calling you Dinky?

"Dinky was what my brother called me. He started out calling me 'The Little Dink', but my mother used to get mad, so he changed it to Dinky, and that got by her."

"And you think that Winston read your mind, just because he called you Dinky? Hell Carl, get serious, he could have gotten it from anyplace."

"No, Mac. My brother only called me Dinky around my mother, just to get her goat. He was that kind of kid. He never used it around anybody else, and when he died, I never heard it again."

"Get serious Carl. You can't go around admitting that you believe in mind readers?"

"Why not, there are so many things we're just learning about Mac."

"Ah, God Carl, I can't even believe we're discussing something as absurd as this."

"Mac, my parents and brother were killed when I was seven. That was the last time Dinky was ever used. No way anyone would know about that name, I'm certain of that."

"He's messing with you, don't take it serious."

"Yeah Mac, he's messing with me all right, but he's scary. According to Alice, Winston doesn't read a persons conscious mind, but is able to enter their subconscious and sort of rummage around, getting bits and pieces. Everything that has happened to us is stored there."

Mac happened to look over to the TV he had requested to be placed in his office. It was always on, the sound way down. There was a knock on the window from outside, and one of the crew out there pointed to the TV and signaled seven with his fingers. Mac got the remote and changed the channels.

"Who's this?" Mac asked, looking at the screen.

Carl came around so he could see. "I'll be damned, it's the Reverend Hollsworth.

"What? The crazy demented guy? That's not him," Mac said, turning up the volume.

"He is going to make us join him! He is waiting and hungry for our assistance!" The Reverend Hollsworth's voice boomed. His image had changed dramatically from his initial appearance three days before. Now he was clean shaven, dressed in a beautifully tailored, pale blue suit, expensive tie, and shirt to complement it. His hair had been cut, and some dentist had done the most remarkable job on his teeth that sparkled bright white.

"Who is it you are referring to?" the interviewer asked.

"The One, the One that is not a part of us all."

"Are you referring to the astronaut?"

"Yes, we are all distant from each other standing upon this Earth, but He is the one that looks down upon us now, and sees!"

"Ah . . . what is your prediction?" stammered the interviewer.

"He is coming!" the Reverend Hollsworth threw his arms high and wide, tears streaming down his cheeks. "They are bringing Him to us, why are they doing that?"

Chapter 10

THE REVEREND HOLLSWORTH HAD - gathered another following. "The Devil struck the astronaut down, and now He's the vehicle to bring His hatred down to us all," the Reverend Hollsworth screamed, using his popular recognizable stance, the arms flung wide, the hands trembling, thrust up toward the heavens. "We can't allow him to return for he is no longer a man. Stand up for your salvation, call them, tell them, the astronaut must not be returned! He will destroy us all!" This time his ranting was carried live on at least five channels, and by the end of the day, it was the rare channel that hadn't rerun his warning.

***

Carl opened the door to Mac's office, Denny and Spencer were already there.

"The religious right is panicking. The White House just called me and they're uncertain how to defuse all this," Mac said, rubbing both his temples this time.

"They can't be serious about taking those people serious?" Denny commented.

"We are talking about almost twenty percent of the population scared shitless that Donald is going to bring Armageddon back with him," Mac cried. "If the numbers go any higher it's getting close to a viable block of voters, and the politicians take that in earnest, no matter how ridiculous the issue may be."

"You mean if enough people start pissing their pants, Donald could stay up there?" Spencer asked.

Mac sighed deeply. "That's exactly what I'm saying."

"Jesus!" Carl exclaimed.

Mac threw up his arms immediately, halting Carl. "I'd forgo using any references that might provoke any side right now," said Mac quickly.

Carl just stood, shaking his head. "We took it in the shorts for not bringing him right back, what a switch."

"Thank Hollsworth," Mac said.

"Thanks Reverend," Carl used the tone his daughter used on him.

"I'm glad you can take this so lightly," Mac griped.

Spencer held up his hand. "Hey, I know, let's start a rumor that it's really the second coming. If that gets around our problem will be solved. They'll want him down tomorrow."

Denny shot Spencer a look. Spencer kind of grinned, knowing he might have gone too far, but Mac didn't respond verbally. He just looked at Spencer and shook his head. Mac hustled everyone but Carl out of his office.

"There's not much we can do, you know," Carl commented.

"Puufft, don't I know it. Why the hell call us, as if we could change public opinion. I'm predicting that the three weeks until we can get to him will be a big blessing."

"How do you figure?"

"Hollsworth will have to keep up the pressure, and maybe there'll be a little burn out," Mac chewed on his lip. "Although, Spencer's idea wasn't half bad."

"Carl started laughing. "If anyone here heard you admit that Spencer made any sense in policies." Carl was still laughing and shaking his head, "I don't know."

"The little ass isn't as dumb as he looks," Mac laughed back.

Chapter 11

CARL AND AMY WERE IN THE APARTMENT \- "That Hollsworth is really stirring up the public," Amy commented.

"Everybody's ducking the issue of what we're really dealing with," Carl returned. "It's something this, something that, and the problem is referred to as 'This Thing'. It's like everyone is afraid to define . . . what we're up against."

"You almost said, 'This Thing'.

"I know, see it's crazy."

"I know, define it as 'What Thing'."

"Very funny," Carl groused. "That damn Hollsworth is gaining popularity as we speak."

"He's charismatic and has a good platform," Amy pointed out. "The Shuttle Program is definitely in the spot light."

"Speaking of the spot light, I wonder if Winston is going to be mellow tonight? He said he would," Carl commented, using the remote to turn the television on. He sat back on the couch, Amy joining him. They nestled close, waiting.

***

"Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Winston Adams and this is the ADC Nightly News." Winston was doing his regular nightly news. He did his regular twenty-five minutes and his information left the world looking unstable and convoluted as usual. Winston paused with a minute left and looked to his audience.

"I know that TSA is reeling from it's tragedies, Rendezvous, Redoubt, and now Colonel Donald. This newscaster for one has been determined to find the truth. What happened, why is one of our brave Sons orbiting our world all alone? TSA has it's policies, and although I may not agree with them, they feel they are right, and it is not a good idea to have safety procedures altered by the popular majority. TSA has assured us that Colonel Donald will be recovered, and that no additional calamities will befall us. To those that are listening to the Devil soothsayers, I say the Devil has been with us a long time and if he's for real, he doesn't need a poor, unfortunate individual to round us up. For ADC, this is Winston Adams and that was the news."

***

Carl, his mouth agape, was sitting forward. He had been mesmerized and pulled to Winston as he had delivered his monologue.

"Wow!" Amy exclaimed. "You've got to like the guy because he is a force to be reckoned with now, and it looks like he's on your side."

Carl didn't say anything, he was thinking.

"Carl, say something." Amy sat forward, turning to look at him.

"I'm afraid I'll start giggling like a little girl," Carl said, sitting back, thinking again.

Amy sat looking at him, waiting.

"Carl?" she said, trying to break into his thoughts.

"Huh?" he responded

"What's up, you're off in another dimension?"

"Just thinking about Winston's little play just now."

"You should be hoping with joy, he just did you a great service."

"That little feint was entirely for his own agenda." Carl smiled. "He played me like a cheap fiddle."

"Well, it didn't hurt your cause." Amy sounded disappointed in Carl's lack of appreciation.

"No, it didn't."

Carl was silent again.

"Carl!" Amy shouted, smacking him hard on his thigh.

"What?" he asked, looking at her, rubbing his thigh.

"Earth to Carl Boroughs," she yelled again. "What did you mean by feint?"

"It has to do with what Alice Smithers is looking for."

"You mean the confusion with Donald and his status?"

"Yup."

"Ah huh," Amy proclaimed, grabbing his thigh, excited. "Tell me, tell me!" She was jumping about, excited.

"I can't."

"What!" Amy shouted, smacking him on the thigh again.

"Talk to Alice," Carl said to her as the phone rang. " I'm going to have to give him more strokes, that's for sure," Carl said, answering the phone.

Chapter 12

"THAT BUTT HEAD!" - Amy cried, peddling furiously on the stationary bike in the gym.

"He won't tell you a thing," Alice said, peddling the next bike over.

"Nothing, said I should talk to you," Amy grunted, finishing with a flurry of rapid cycles.

"That butt head!" Alice agreed, also finishing her session.

"You didn't come up with anything yourself?" Amy asked.

"Nah, all I've got is a bunch of readouts that don't make any sense, and Winston's acting just like Carl. Did he spill any clues?"

"I'm not sure. It's hard to tell with Carl. He can be so aloof it's hard to know if he's stalling, telling you something, or just in his fog." Amy grabbed a towel as she got off the bike.

"Damn, why would he tell you to talk to me?" Alice followed, grabbing her own towel. "Do you think it was a stall?"

"He said the grand show of concern by Winston was a feint."

"Winston, there's another tough nut to crack."

"Maybe a little sexy persuasion might get you somewhere."

"Oh yuk, Winston! Besides, that's the last thing that would work with Winston. He's not interested in conquering us, and certainly not interested in planting his seed anywhere."

"He's not interested in the thrill?"

"I'm fairly sure he's not interested in anything protracted. My brother said he liked to pay the money and be done with her."

"Really? Nasty boy," Amy said, thinking. "What about the feint?"

"The only thing I can figure is that it's important to Winston to have Donald brought back. What ever his agenda is, it serves no purpose to leave Donald out there."

"You don't see his spiel as a humanitarian one."

"I did when he gave it, but now I'm not so sure."

"That's the same feeling I get," Amy confirmed. "If Carl wasn't so damn secretive, I might not be so damn suspicious."

"Men just don't get it, the less they say, the more we wonder."

"Oh Carl knows that, he's baiting me."

"Rotten bugger."

"Not really, he likes to keep me interested. If he didn't want me inquiring for myself, he'd be more open. I wonder what he and Winston are up to?"

"Winston says it's something big. It's going to change everything." Alice sighed. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see."

"Do you think they'll go ahead and grab Donald?" Amy asked.

"They pretty much have too, I would think," Alice returned.

Chapter 13

THE REVEREND HOLLSWORTH - had one more shot because after Winston's appeal weeks before, his platform had lost it's momentum and he wasn't able to garner any additional support. The three weeks to get the recovery flight up was also hurting his cause. He was standing on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, overlooking the Reflection Pool, and out there listening was approximately one hundred and fifty-thousand souls still believing the Devil was soon to visit them. The Reverend had gone back to his dirty, ill, fitting clothes and his overall appearance had reverted to the Doom Prophet. His petition was being televised on all the major networks as a news worthy item.

"I am appealing to the powers that be, to listen to me, before they commit this grievous mistake." His voice still held the conviction that he had expounded throughout his bid to keep Donald in orbit. "They are bringing to this, our home, our life, our survival, an Entity that will run rampant and devourer us all. I am preparing to travel to the spot the Devil will disembark. Where He will enter our hallowed ground. Will my presence deter him? Will any of us deter him? I think not, but still we must stand in His face and say we don't want you here."

***

"Good evening Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Winston Adams and this is the ADC Nightly News. In less than fifteen minutes the Shuttle Reliance will retrieved Astronaut Ronald L. Donald and return him from his long ordeal in space. Donald was struck by space debris thirty-three days ago and was left to drift until today. Reliance has placed Donald in a special container and will be returning from orbit this evening. Then maybe TSA will give us the answers we have been waiting for."
Chapter 14

THE SHUTTLE IS BACK IN ORBIT - the Earth slowly rotating beneath it. Commander Jerry Phillips and the Executive Officer, Major Mary Thomas were in the upper deck of the shuttle, controlling the craft as it approaches Colonel Donald still tumbling in the vacuum of space.

"Commander, we have visual of the pickup," Thomas said.

"Any corrections necessary?" Phillips asked.

"Not at this moment. We will move over him in fifty-three seconds and stabilize our position at two-fifty away."

"Roger, sounds good, Major Thomas."

The shuttle maneuvered to match Donald's orbit. When it was completed, the cargo bay doors opened, and the mechanical arm swung out. Then the end with a mechanical hand, swung back down into the cargo bay. The mechanical hand grabbed a cylinder ten feet in diameter and fifteen feet long. The arm pulled the cylinder out of the cargo bay, extended to its maximum length, then released the cylinder.

Two space suited astronauts, Henry Ackerman and Gill Peterson, moved out of the cargo bay and used thrusters to move toward the cylinder. When they reached the cylinder, they positioned themselves on both sides of the cylinder at the end facing away from Donald. Donald was still in a slow spin. One of the astronauts opened a panel on the cylinder's side and reached in. The far end of the cylinder rotated open. The two astronauts grabbed hold of handles on the cylinder and using their thrusters, begin moving the cylinder toward Donald. As they neared Donald, they maneuvered the cylinder into a slow arch to match Donald's tumble. When the cylinder matched the tumble of Donald, the astronauts started the open end of the cylinder toward Donald. They took great care not to touch Donald with any part of the cylinder. When Donald was completely inside, the end rotated shut and the cylinder was maneuvered back to the mechanical hand, attached and placed back inside the cargo bay. The bay doors then swung shut.

The cylindrical container, with Donald in it, was placed forward in the cargo bay, up against the bulkhead that separated the bay from the crew quarters. Three of the shuttle astronauts would sit in the lower crew compartment directly opposite the cylinder. The Commander and the Copilot were situated in the upper crew compartment.

***

Commander Phillips and Major Thomas were busy making final adjustments as the shuttle headed back into the atmosphere.

***

The Shuttle fell into the upper atmosphere at seventeen thousand miles per hour. It began to encounter friction from the atmosphere and was about to loose communications.

"Mission control, this is Reliance," Commander Phillips said into his mike.

"Reliance, this is Mission Control, go ahead."

"Mission Control, we are about to enter black out, do you acknowledge?"

"Roger Reliance, talk to you when you are clear again."

***

The shuttle, with its nose high, began to glow, first on the front, then the glow spread back, and then around the wings. Inside the craft there was a rumbling that started softly and built up quickly, accompanied by an intense vibration. The noise and the shaking built to a peak and then quickly subsided.

Chapter 15

MAC, CARL, SPENCER, DENNIS, AND KENNY - were in Mac's office watching Hollsworth.

"There's an estimated million people trying to get into the cape to be there for the landing," Mac said, shaking his head with disbelief. "We've pulled in as many law enforcement as we can find, and the governor will have the National Guard there within the hour."

Spencer laughed. "One of the crew should step out in a Devils costume and yell boo!"

"Will you grow up!" Mac roared, cutting him off.

"This is getting to be less and less fun everyday," Spencer leaned over and whispered to Dennis who nodded.

Mac gave them both a cold stare.

"Is there anyway to waylay Hollsworth, to keep him from getting down there?" Kenny asked.

"Oh man, don't do that!" Carl said anxiously. "Can you imagine the uproar if anybody tried to stop that clown. Just let him be standing there when they open the door to the shuttle and nothing comes flying out. That's the best thing for us all."

"I have to agree with Carl," Mac said, flipping the channels.

***

"I'm ready for the Devil," an old man shouted, standing outside his car. It looked like he was down in Florida, close to the landing sight. "He might just have something good to add to this screwed up world." The camera panned over to a pretty woman who tearfully proclaimed. "I'm ready for him and I will gladly have his children."

"My husband's been missing for a couple of years now, I'll bet it's him," the next woman said, also tearfully. She was an ordinary sort, plain and unassuming.

"I just want to get it over with," one man stated, obviously tired of everything.

"We are here to serve him," said one couple, their four small children spread out in front of them in front of their camper.

"Is that their barbecue handy there?" Spencer quipped, pointing at the screen.

Mac looked at him. "Spencer, if anyone ever asks you to speak for the Agency, don't."

"What's all the excitement about? We're all in hell already," the next man said.

One group off to the side didn't say anything, as the camera panned them, they just wailed and sobbed.

"What I'd like to know," one really old woman said, "is how'd he get up there?" She pointed to the sky, her hand trembling.

***

"Oh please, let that crate land softly," Mac mumbled.

***

The Florida landing sight was surrounded by about three quarters of a million people, all there to be as close to the Devil as possible when he took control of their lives. The Reverend Hollsworth had arrived and was leading his flock forward. Fortunately the runway was surrounded by impenetrable marshes and swamp, keeping the throngs from getting too close. The dangers hidden in the murky, dank water, and accompanying tall grasses didn't stop some of the frenzied participants. Already there had been three snake bites, two drownings, and numerous rescues. A couple of floating logs that turned out to be cruising alligators kept the majority out of the water. One man, dragged choking and spitting up brackish water, had immediately rushed back at the swamp. As he was driven off in handcuffs, he wailed that he was, "Being prevented from joining union with my redeemer."

***

The shuttle came out of the communications blackout and radio contact was reestablished.

"Reliance, this is Mission Control, do you read?"

"Roger Reliance, loud and clear. Are we back on all the boards?"

"Affirmative Reliance. Wait a second please."

"Ah Reliance, we have lost some signals from the lower deck. Do you copy?"

"We copy Houston. We show all normal down there. What is the problem from your end?" Phillips looked over to Thomas. "Now what!" he said.

"Reliance, be advised. Our life support systems telemetry show unsteady for all three crew down there."

"I copy Houston, give us a bit."

"Roger Reliance, we're waiting."

"Mary check it out."

"Checking," Tomas returned, checking her screen, moving the mouse about. "Commander, I'm not getting clear readings," she said after a few moments.

"Now what!" Phillips repeated. "Did you check all three?"

"Affirmative," Tomas said frustrated. "The boards are messed up all across! The telemetry is wavering."

"What the hell! What do you call wavering?"

"They're all cutting in and out!" Mary Thomas's voice quavered.

Commander Phillips quickly reached above his head and punched an icon.

"Major Ackerman, do you read me?" Phillips was frantically looking over the computer screen just above his head. He touched another icon.

"Dammit Henry, answer me! . . . Do you read? . . . Over!"

Phillips turned to Mary and leaned over slightly. "Mary, recheck all the systems down there."

"I already did . . . and I'm going over them again." Mary's voice was quivering more. She was working her computer screen frantically. "There's nothing wrong with any of the systems," Mary sounded very upset. "The ship is in perfect shape," she added.

Phillips touched an icon. "Reliance, this is Mission Control, please respond."

"This is Houston, what is the situation?"

"Houston, we have a problem. We cannot raise the crew down below."

"Reliance, what is your summation?"

"Don't have one Houston. The life systems now show negative, and there's no answer on the comm link. What do you advise Houston?

"What is the status of the platform?"

"The entire system is up and running. We show no problems here, except the one downstairs. Please advise?"

"Reliance, you are on the long glide sequence. Please advise?"

"They're supposed to advise us," Mary squawked. She had her hands up to her face, breathing heavily.

Phillips could tell she was on the verge of breaking down. "Hang in there Mary, I need you here with me."

"Roger Houston," Phillips went back to business, "reentry is according to program, we're on the mark. What do you read from the lower deck?"

"Reliance, according to our info, the lower deck crew is dead."

"I copy Houston."

"Reliance, come on home. Mission control out."

Phillips looked over at Mary. "They're wrong, it's just some sort of electrical problem. They're okay down there, I know they are."

"Commander, I've checked the comm link to the deck below and it's operational."

"Can't be Mary."

"The computer says the link is okay. Do you think we lost them?" Mary was racked by a big sob.

"How Mary? How? You tell me that!"

"It doesn't seem possible," Mary responded, her voice breaking. "Two minutes to touch down Commander."

"Thank you Mary." Phillips reached over and gave her hand a squeeze.

***

The throngs of witnesses to the touchdown, convinced it was the arrival of pure evil, looked to the sky silent and apprehensive. There was a shout as one of them spotted the descending Reliance through his binoculars. His shouting and pointing didn't begin a frenzy, as most of the crowd didn't have his advantage, but within a minute the shuttle became visible with the naked eye. Then the vast crowd hushed, waiting for the white space-plane to touch down.

***

The shuttle made its final turn and lined up with the runway.

***

"Reliance, you are on the mark, ninety-seconds to touchdown. You are looking good."

"Looks good from up here too Houston."

"Reliance come in."

"Reliance here."

"Reliance, we have life functions from the lower deck coming on line. Can you advise?"

"Christ, it 'was' a computer malfunction." Phillips said loudly. "Mary, what do you read?"

"Life signs have come back on line and are rising. Almoooossssst!" Mary was holding her breath. "Life signs are normal!" she shouted.

"What a time for the computer to quit screwing around. I've got twenty-seconds to touchdown, do you copy Houston?"

"Roger Reliance, you are on the mark."

"Houston, everything is normal here, fifteen-seconds to touchdown. Twenty feet, ten feet, five, touchdown Houston, Reliance is back."

***

As the tires of the shuttle smoked from the contact with the pavement, the Reverend Hollsworth proclaimed, "We are all doomed!"

And his troops wailed in support.

***

"Mary, call downstairs please!" Phillips asked, as Reliance rolled down the runway, slowing.

Major Thomas punched an icon. "Major Ackerman, do you read me?"

"Yes, Major, loud and clear. Are we about ready to land?"

"Major, we have landed. Where have you been?

"We've been right here, of course."

"I know that, but we lost contact with you. Is everyone okay down there?"

"All smiles down here, but our board went dead for a few seconds."

"Only seconds?"

"Yes Major, maybe fifteen, twenty at the most, why?"

"We lost you guys for at least two minutes. We were worried."

"Why Major, I didn't know you cared."

"Knock it off Ackerman!" Commander Phillips cut in. "We lost your vital signs, that's what had us so worried."

"Some kind of computer glitch, Sir."

"We realize that now, but at the time we thought you were all dead."

"I was very relaxed Colonel, but not that much, I can assure you. Anyway, we are all fine and happy to be back. Congratulations on a successful mission Ladies and Gentlemen."

"Thank you Major, Commander Phillips out.

Phillips looked over at Thomas. "Mary, this computer thing doesn't make any sense. Why wouldn't the readings just jump back when the glitch was fixed?"

"We didn't fix anything, it all came back on line by itself. And you're right, I've never seen a program go from nonfunctional, then gradually rise to 'on line'."

"Well, what ever caused the problem, it's okay now, thank god. Got any ideas?"

"Not a one, but we've done our job, so let the computer boys figure it out. It should keep them busy for a while."

"Reliance, this is Mission Control, you are all stop. Congratulations on a very fine mission."

"What?" The question was addressed to someone back in Mission Control. "Reliance, wait one."

Mission Control was off the air for five-seconds. "Reliance, please advise us on the status of Donald?" Mission Control asked.

"What?"

"Please, what are your readings on Donald?"

"What do they want that for?" Phillips asked Mary.

"Oh damn! Jerry, I wasn't paying any attention to Donald. The Alpha Waves are gone."

"What next!" He touched an icon. "Houston, Reliance here."

"Go ahead Reliance."

"Houston, the Alpha Waves from Donald have ceased. Do you copy?"

"Yes, Reliance, we copy. We have the same situation here. Do you have an approximate time of signal loss?"

"Just a minute Houston." Phillips turned to Tomas. "Mary?"

Mary Thomas reached up and punched some icons and waited.

"Houston, the computer says the Alpha Waves from Donald quit at touchdown, mark, minus eight minutes, forty-two seconds," Mary said. "Which would put signal loss in the blackout period."

"Thank you Reliance. Ground crew is at your location. You are in their hands now. Mission control out."

"Goddamn Thomas, has this been one or what?"

***

Reliance had come to a stop, and trucks were speeding out to meet her. Many of the gathered multitude backed away from their stations next to the waterways, but still kept their eyes on the sitting shuttle, trembling with anticipation and fright. A deep cordon of military were quickly assembled, surrounding the shuttle.

***

Night had fallen before the shuttle's doors finally opened, but the vast crowd had not dispersed. Most of them were silent, waiting. No apparitions materialized as the crew walked down the stairs that had been rolled up to the hatch, and still the mass of Doom-sayers sat waiting.

Only when the massive cargo bay doors on the top of the shuttle started to swing open, did a moaning chant arise from across the swamps. A crane was moved into position, as the excitement increased within the Reverend Hollsworth's disciples. When the crane lifted the silver cylinder from the belly of the space plane all discipline broke down. Hundreds could be seen fleeing, trying to get as far away from the event as possible. But there were perhaps a hundred that headed into the water, not considering any of the dangers to get as close as they could to what they imagined as the end. The Doom-seekers were efficiently dragged off by the soldiers as they struggled out of the water on the far side.

Chapter 16

"HOLLSWORTH MUST BE OFF SULKING SOMEWHERE," - Mac snickered, watching his television with Carl, Kenny, Dennis, Spencer, and Marge Grimmer.

"Yeah, his prediction kind of fizzled," Carl added, as the camera panned the grass lands that the day before had held thousands upon thousands, and now only had their garbage to prove they really had been there at all.

"I can't imagine what all those people expected?" Kenny threw in his piece.

"Oh, they hoped the doors would fly open and flames would shoot out," Dennis said. "That's the only scenario that would have made them happy."

"Poor smucks!" Spencer cried. "Their lives are so miserably ordinary and redundant that it took the Devil to liven them up, and now they have to crawl back into reality."

Mac gave him a curious look. "The next time you say something stupid, I'm going to wonder why."

"Okay people, congratulations to everyone," Mac continued with a relieved look on his face. "First: I can't tell you how great it will be to get a good night's sleep, and second, let's get down to business. Now that the circus is on it's way to the next town, what have you got for me?"

"I'd say, we maybe dogged a bullet, but I don't think there was one headed our way in the first place," Kenny started off.

"Kind of looks that way, but with all the attention we were getting, it sort of warps your prospective," Denny threw in.

"What did Hollsworth have to say this morning?" Mac asked.

"Not much. He's still purporting the Devil did come down, but maybe he needed a good night's sleep too," Carl said.

"Well, it's too late for him to rejuvenate the fear," Spencer said. "Nothing came streaming out of the shuttle and it will be forgotten."

"Okay, on to business at hand," Mac said, turning to Dennis and Marge who were sitting to one side. Mac lost his smile.

"Great systems we're working with," Mac snarled at Dennis. "We are supposed to have continuous contact, with all of them."

"We've gone over them twice. The techs are going over them again, and will do so until we find out what happened," Dennis said.

"And you!" Mac turned on Marge Grimmer, "I'm sure sorry we let those new programs go up, until we were sure."

"I can't find anything to prove that they didn't work properly," Marge defended herself.

"I just got the autopsy report." Mac held up a folder. "Astronaut Donald has been dead since day one. Nothing to indicate that he could have been sending anything to us. The program was flawed, Mrs. Grimmer."

"I don't see how?" She tried to vindicate herself again.

"I don't see how it could be anything else. Until you come to me with something concrete, my decision will remain the same," Mac told her.

Grimmer gathered her stuff and headed toward the door.

***

"Gezz Mac, I think you were a little rough on her," Carl said after the door had closed.

"I don't," Mac responded.

"I don't either," Kenny added. "We run a tight ship, and there is no room for questionable systems, and especially people that can't run them properly."

"Aren't you glad it turned out to be nothing?" Carl asked, looking at Kenny, and then Mac.

"What are you referring to?" Mac asked.

"Donald," Carl responded.

"I'm glad I can concentrate on something besides him, yes," Mac said, sitting back in his chair, swiveling it back and forth. "And, by the way, Alice Smithers," Mac sat, still swiveling, looking at Carl.

"Yeah?" Carl asked.

"We don't need her anymore."

"Oh, she'll be pleased."

"I'm not running a popularity contest here. We don't need her input anymore and she's not to investigate anything pertaining to this agency, in anyway shape or form." Mac stopped swinging the chair and sat forward, planting his feet on the ground. "You got me."

"I'll take care of it," Carl said, getting up to leave.

"Carl, don't go away mad," Mac chuckled. "I need you to get another press conference together. Make sure the public is assured that all this speculation has been put to rest. I'm counting on you because you have the silver tongue. I expect to have this all old news in a week or two."
Chapter 17

CARL RAISED HIS HAND - to settle the room down. It took a few moments, but when everyone was quiet, he looked down to his notes and started.

"Good morning Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for coming. I guess more than one of you would like to hear me say that I am relieved." Carl looked out over the gathered press. No one commented. "But the fact is, we never considered the Donald accident a failure in any way, nor did we allow any additional mishaps to befall us. That would have diminished the sacrifice he made for us all. I am grateful to his family and friends for supporting us in our necessary firmness, allowing us to prepare for his successful recovery. We have now accomplished that and can get on with business.

Lieutenant Colonel Donald will be laid to rest in the National Cemetery at Arlington in three days. Preceding that, there will be a National Day of Mourning and a Vigil on the Mall, in Washington, in two days. We have prepared a schedule of events that is included in the press package.

Lieutenant Colonel Donald will be greatly missed and his accomplishments greatly appreciated. The brave men and women that go out into the unknown, do it for the betterment of all our lives. We are a curious phenomenon on this world, and that curiosity has allowed us many great strides and that curiosity will continue to stretch the horizons. Thank you Ladies and Gentlemen.

"Now for any questions, I turn you over to Mac McMillian." Carl gestured to Mac who was in his customary position, slightly off to the side. Mac slipped to the middle of the podium as every journalist began shouting, wanting to fire their charges, camouflaged as questions at Mac. Mac took a deep breath and pointed out, choosing the first accuser.

"Adrian Spurrier, London Daily. "When did Donald die and how?"

"Lieutenant Colonel Donald died instantly when his suit was puncture, as was reported."

"You've seen the autopsy," Spurrier came back quickly.

"I have, and it definitely corroborates the earlier findings."

"What caused his death, exactly?"

"He was subjected to, no, let me restate that," Mac paused. "The environment necessary to keep him alive in the rigors of space, namely his space suit, were compromised, next."

"What exactly killed him?" Spurrier didn't let loose.

Mac's face turned red as he clenched his teeth. "His air was vented."

"So he was asphyxiated?" Spurrier pounced.

"Yes!" Mac was angry. "I can assume that who ever hired you, assumed that you had a basic knowledge about the dangers involved in working out there." Carl was headed quickly back, as Mac pointed to the ceiling.

"I resent the—"

Carl cut the journalist off. "We are trying to be considerate of the feelings of the family and friends, and are not trying to duck your questions. The autopsy report will be made available this afternoon.

Mac retook his spot, but it was evident that the altercation had shook him up.

"Next," he pointed, his voice still slightly strained.

"Yes," a very good looking young woman, looking more like a hot, young model than a hard nosed reporter, stood. "Julia Fairbanks, National Inquirer," she said.

When Carl heard National Inquirer, he stayed close.

"It is important to get a clear picture," Julia continued, "to the public, pertaining to the speculations concerning the . . . the aberrations—"

"Do you have a question?" Mac interrupted.

"I was getting to that," Julia said snippily. "I was wondering if the autopsies of Astronaut Donald revealed anything to explain the . . ." Julia hesitated, not sure how to structure the question.

Carl quickly stepped in again. "If you're referring to the suppositions about Donald after his death, there is nothing to them. They were rumors and nothing more.

Julia remained standing for a moment, but then realized that she had been torpedoed and sat down.

Carl stepped back again, letting Mac take his place. Mac didn't look too happy, pointing out to the audience again.

Another woman stood, but this time she was a refreshing sight to Carl, who was again staying close. He was relieved to see someone he knew and he trusted not to take any unreasonable shots at poor, strained Mac.

"Helen Williams, The Daily Post. Do you have any statement to Reverend Hollsworth, something to ease his mind, now that hell seems to not have materialized?"

"The good Reverend was only trying to protect and serve. I for one can appreciate that, but am relieved that he was wrong." Mac seemed to be lifted somewhat by his coherent answer. "One more," he said, pointing to one of the journalists he liked.

"Max Shimelman, USA Weekly. "What are you fellows going to do to protect the astronauts so this doesn't happen 'again'?"

Oh, oh, thought Carl.

"Ah . . . " Mac hesitated again. "We have certain risks that we must accept, but we'll look into it." With that he hurried of the stage.

***

"Don't you ever make me look like a fool again, do you read me?" Mac snarled at Carl as they headed through the hall.

"Gezz Mac, he was just trying to help." Dennis tried to smooth the situation as he caught up to them.

"Enough, I can take care of myself, and you all remember that!" Mac shouted rounding the corner fast.

Carl and Dennis slowed.

"What the hell's wrong with him?" Dennis questioned.

Carl was just shaking his head.

"The problem's over," Dennis continued. "It could have been one hell of a nightmare. What would he have done then?"

Chapter 18

"MAC, ALICE SMITHERS HERE." - Alice had called Mac in his office.

"Yo, Alice, how's it going?"

"Well, to be honest, I'm a little peeved."

"Oh, don't take it personal, the problem solved itself."

"It did not!"

"Yes, it did, and as far as we're concerned, it is no longer an issue."

"Aren't you curious at all?"

"Of course I am, but I get paid to deal with the issues at hand and the Donald thing is settled."

"It didn't go away as far as I'm concerned. I didn't get any answers."

"Did you consider that there might not be any answers?"

"That's a cop out Mac."

"Not from where I stand Alice. Look, the thing with Donald is over. There is no longer a problem. There is no longer a need to answer any more questions. I can tell you that in the order of importance, the Donald incident has no status."

"And that's it? That's the end of the whole thing?"

"Yes, Alice, that's the end of the whole thing. Don't misunderstand, all the people here appreciate your services, and if anything ever comes up within your expertise, you will be the first one called."

"It's sure sad to see what the bureaucracy can do to intelligent people."

"Now Alice, cut that out. If you had my job you'd understand, I'm sure of it."

"Oh, I'm not criticizing you personally Mac, you're probably a good man. It's just what the system has done to you."

"I work within the system, it's not perfect, but it's the best one we've got."

"You're defending your position with cliches Mac."

"That's why cliches were penned Alice."

"That's it then?"

"That's it. I hope you returned all the info, and of course there were no copies made?"

"I can read Mac! I don't want you gov types crawling all over my butt."

"Well, I hope you took that agreement 'that you signed', real serious?"

"I did Mac, I did."

"Good, so as far as you're concerned, the Donald thing is finished, right?"

"Can you shoot me for wondering about it?"

"Only if you wonder out loud. If you're wondering comes up with anything, call me first."

"Oh sure Mac, you'll be the first to know."
Chapter 19

REVEREND HOLLSWORTH WAS SEATED COMFORTABLY, - in a TV studio, but the interviewer, Robyn O'Connell, a noted Evangelist in his own right, didn't look so well adjusted to the present situation. Hollsworth had deteriorated further from his Washington and Florida stints, his clothes the same loose black garb, but looking even shabbier. His hair was not as long as the first time he had came on the scene because it had been cut and would take time to grow out. It had not been washed recently, and by the looks of O'Connell's constant nose crinkling, either had the Reverend. His teeth still looked good though.

"Reverend, how do you explain the fact that Donald has been back over a week." Robyn moved forward, trying to convey importance to his question. "And none of your predictions have happened?" Robyn moved slightly back. It was impossible to see the tears in his eyes caused by the odoriferous Hollsworth.

"A week is nothing for the Devil who has tempted us since the creation," Hollsworth said leaning way forward out of his seat, looking agitated, his arms swinging wildly. "He is here and he is doing his thing. He has already lulled us, made us think that it was all a ruse."

"But the ruse, as you call it, was your creation," O'Connell said quickly, hoping to get Hollsworth to calm down, to move back.

"I had a vision and a talk with the Lord!" Hollsworth sat back, saving poor Robyn from maneuvering farther. "It was He who directed me to warn of the impending doom." Hollsworth started to move forward again. "Do you take the Lord lightly?"

"No, I don't, but it seems there are as many versions of His word as there are individuals delivering it." Either O'Connell had grown used to the smell, or was determined to get to the bottom of the Reverend's claims because if he provoked Hollsworth, Hollsworth would certainly move closer.

"There are always numerous versions of any claim, but always only one that is true," Hollsworth agreed.

"That's what I'm trying to conclude here. Is what your saying true, or just a false prophesy."

"Why don't you let your viewing audience decide for themselves?" Hollsworth taunted his host. It was a brilliant counter move to O'Connell's trap. O'Connell had just premiered his show and the format was still in question. Robyn O'Connell was not know for hearing out his followers, but was a proponent of his word, just like the Reverend Hollsworth had been in his heyday.

"I lead my flock, I don't allude to their many fears," Robyn said quickly, slipping out of the pitfall.

***

"These guys are slick," Carl said, watching the exchange with Amy. They were curled up on the couch, watching the Fight of The Fryers, as Carl had coined it.

"They'll cancel each other out," Amy predicted.

"Or cause twice the trouble," Carl pointed out.

Chapter 20

MAC GOT A PHONE CALL IN HIS OFFICE \- "Yeah Carl, how's it going?" . . . Mac listened.

"Ah nah, hey, I'm not too interested, really . . ."

Mac listened.

"Look Carl, we're not marriage counselors . . ."

"For the best of the program! Christ, you're starting to sound like a McDonald's recruiter . . ."

"Hey, people have troubles with their mates, and I have neither an interest, or any expertise in that field . . ."

"You can't insist . . . "

"Oh, . . . well you shouldn't insist . . ."

"Carl, you're insisting . . ."

"Oh okay, God-dammit, I don't need this kind of bull . . ."

"I said yes, didn't I? . . ."

"Three is fine, and tell her to bring her own Kleenex."

***

Mac, Carl, and Jennifer Ackerman were sitting in Mac's office. Jennifer was a tall, robust, redhead. Her thick hair was medium length and straight. Her eyes were a light blue green, and she's not wearing much makeup, just red lip stick. All in all, a very attractive woman, probably late thirties, early forties. She's dressed in a conservative blue skirt and jacket.

"Now Mrs. Ackerman, what can we do for you?" Mac asked, a folder in his hand.

"I don't know where to start, and you can call me Jennifer."

"Okay Jennifer, what's troubling you?"

"It's Henry, he's not himself."

"Major Ackerman, he's your husband?"

"Of course he's my husband, you know that," Jennifer leaned forward and smiled coyly. "That's why our last name is the same."

Carl let out a little laugh, and Mac gave him a quick look. "Yes of course, I know that," Mac said.

"Look," Jennifer sat back, "I'm sick and tired of everyone patronizing me. There is something wrong with Henry, and I need to find out what. I do love my husband."

"Have you talked to anyone else about this?" Mac asked.

"Yes, yes of course, but all I get is considerate stares and apologies. I get the feeling that the doctors think I'm overreacting."

"Are you?"

"No, no I don't think so!"

"Okay, I can accept that. Now, I need to hear, in your words, what has got you so troubled?" Mac asked.

"Can you think of another word other than 'troubled', it sounds so juvenile, like I'm having a tantrum or something."

"Of course. You have a problem, and I'm ready to listen," Mac conceded, ready to get this newest problem out of his hair as quickly as possible."

"I have been married to Henry for ten years and I knew him for almost five before that. We have been friends that long, and I can guarantee you, that we know each other well. Can you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes," Mac said

"Henry's different."

"How so? Is he depressed, stressed, what?" Mac was taking notes, trying to appear attentive.

"He's different."

"Look, Jennifer. I still don't see what you're getting at? I mean, in all the time you've known him, I'm sure that he's gone through some changes. I'm almost positive of that."

Jennifer didn't say anything, looking at Mac and then Carl. She considered her response carefully.

"It's not Henry, he's someone else, I'm sure of that."

"Mrs. Ackerman," Mac questioned. "I can't quite understand what you're trying to tell us."

"I'm telling you the same thing I have told more than one person in this program, something has happened to my husband. He is not the same person."

"I don't understand why you're coming to us with this?" Mac asked impatiently.

"Where should I go?"

"This sounds like a medical problem." Mac leafed through Ackerman's records.

"Henry had a complete physical right after the mission, they didn't find anything wrong."

"Yes, I see here that you have talked to a number of people, and they all concur there is, medically, nothing wrong with Major Ackerman. He 'is' cooperating, you know."

"But there is something wrong. He is not Henry Ackerman, he's somebody else. The real Henry Ackerman would never be so cooperative."

"Specifically what is different?"

"The way he treats me, the way he spends his spare time."

"Have you considered it may be a change in his personality, a change in his life?" Mac suggested, looking for answers for her.

"I don't know what you're getting at?"

"He's fifty-three years old," Mac said, leaning forward. "At that time in many men's lives, they undergo some extreme changes. Have you considered this?"

"I did, yes, and I got as much information as possible. None of it fit."

"None of it?"

"The change in Henry was overnight. One day he's Henry Ackerman, the next time I see him, he's someone else."

"Of course you are aware of multiple personalities?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"There would be switches, back and forth, I would think. This man is constantly not my husband. Besides, what the hell are you guys doing with multiple personality astronauts in your program? Wouldn't that be some kind of reason to investigate?"

Mac scratched his head, knowing this was not going to go away easy. "I don't know what to do about this declaration Mrs. Ackerman."

"I really didn't expect much more, thank you. I have made a detailed list of the peculiarities."

Jennifer handed Mac an envelope. "I've been as precise as possible."

"Thank you Mrs. Ackerman. I'm sure we've not been able to do anything to relieve your doubts, I'm sorry."

"You listened, that's all I can expect."

"What are you going to do? Do you feel that you're in any danger?"

"Oh no, that's one of the strange things about this new man. Henry really wasn't that great of a husband, until now. He was a womanizer, drank too much, and never, ever read anything unless absolutely necessary."

"And now?"

"He stays home and reads everything he can get his hands on about advance physics, magnetic fields, and gravity, while drinking nothing but iced tea."

"And you're complaining?"

Jennifer Ackerman said nothing, giving Mac a cold stare. Carl chuckled under his breath as Mac squirmed. "I'm sorry, I uh, I don't know where to go from here?"

"Could you question other people, see if anything I've told you is substantiated?"

"I hesitate to question Henry's credibility, after all he has proven to be a valuable asset to this program."

"I don't think he'd care. He doesn't seem to mind my concerns. It's like he doesn't mind anyone noticing he's changed. He has a smugness that is unsettling. I'm serious. Just talk to him if you don't believe me."

"Yes, yes, I guess that would be the next step. I appreciate your calmness in all this."

"I've been around all this too long to get excited. It gets you nowhere," Jennifer said, getting up, ready to leave.

Carl jumped up and opened the door for her.

"Thank you for your time gentlemen," Jennifer said, walking out.

***

"Crazy woman, you think?" Carl asked, shutting the door behind Mrs. Ackerman.

"How would I know? I just hate this kind of crap though. That much I do know," Mac gripped.

"Why?"

"Because I have to do something, and I'll be dammed if I know what it might be?"

"Just like the Donald thing, huh?"

"Yeah, same sort of thing, but at least that one went away by itself."

Carl sat back thinking. "Unless? . . . Naaaahhhh!"

"What's bouncing around in that empty space above your shoulders?" Mac asked him.

"Something incredibly stupid. Can I use your phone?" Carl asked as he reached for the phone.

***

"Helen, is Mrs. Ackerman out of the office yet?" Carl asked Mac's secretary.

"Oh, well see if you can get her back for a moment. Yeah I'll wait." Carl turned to Mac. "Ackerman was on the rescue flight, the one that got Donald."

"So?"

"He was also in the bottom, in the crew quarters."

"Yeah, but I don't see what you're getting at."

"He was one—Yeah, Helen, yeah thanks. Ah, no that isn't necessary. I just need to ask her one question, just put her on the phone."

"Yes, Mrs. Ackerman, I need to ask you something. . . ."

"Yes, of course we took you serious. . . ."

"Well, you said the change was swift. Can you remember exactly when you feel that this change occurred? . . ."

"I see, and you're sure of that? Yes, yes, and thank you again. I will be in touch. You give me a call anytime at all . . . Yes, yes I will," Carl said, hanging up the phone.

He looked at Mac. "Ohhh boooy Now isn't that a real coincident."

"Now what?"

"Oh, just some speculation, putting some silly scenarios together in my head."

"Such as?"

"Jennifer Ackerman definitely says the man that came back from the Reliance mission was not the same one that left five days earlier!" Carl declared.

"Ah, come on, you're not trying to tell me that Ackerman and Donald are somehow connected?"

"I'm not saying anything. I'm just trying to make some sense of Mrs. Ackerman's concerns about her husband."

"You are taking her serious then?"

"What was your impression with her?"

"I don't know, but couples can go through some strange times. There could be anything happening there, but she's no dummy, I'll give her that," Mac conceded.

"Look, Mac, she came to us to try to find some answers. How about we get out there and find out if there is anything to what's got her spooked?"

"I guess we can do that, but don't do anything to make anyone think this is connect with Donald, in any way. People will think we're nuts, and I wouldn't blame them," Mac suggested.

"Ackerman was downstairs, close to Donald," Carl started planning his moves.

"Whoa!" Mac snapped. "I thought we agreed to keep Donald out of this?"

"In general, yes, but between us—"

"I said, that as far as this office is concerned," Mac interrupted, "there is no connection, period," Mac was adamant.

"How the hell am I supposed to find any answers, if I can't investigate all the angles?"

"Just work on satisfying Mrs. Ackerman, don't go overboard."

"That's what's on my mind."

"What are you planning?" Mac asked suspiciously.

"Check around, find out if anyone else notices any changes in Ackerman."

"That sounds safe, . . . okay."

"Just between you and I, I think we should give Smithers a call and see if she'll do some comparisons between Ackerman and Donald, their alpha readouts."

"Not a chance!" Mac shouted. "And that is an order!"

"An order?" Carl laughed.

Mac sat back in his chair, tipping it on it's springs. He looked at Carl with an angry expression. "I'm concerned about the program," he said sternly. "We can't appear to be spending time probing silly accusations." Mac banged forward, his feet slamming on the floor. "It's my responsibility because the buck stops here."

"Mac, the worst thing that could happen to this office is that we disregard any possibilities."

"I agree, but this direction is crazy, there's no basis for—"

"Jennifer Ackerman was just in here," Carl cut him off, "and stated that we sent her husband on a mission and he didn't come back, someone else did."

"It's all crap."

"Winston told me that something was happening."

"Carl!" Mac shouted. "Winston is just a trouble maker. You know, your job is to solve problems, not creating new ones."

"I'm going to do this independent."

"Don't bother calling Smithers, she knows better than to stick her nose in this. I warned her just last week."

Chapter 21

MAC ASKED INTO HIS PHONE - "Why can't we meet here? I don't like to conduct business out of my office . . ."

Mac listened.

"The air strip? . . ."

"I don't have time to be taking any trips. . . ."

"All right." Mac put the phone down, scratching his head. "Christ, one thing after another," he grumbled to himself.

***

Mac and an unknown man were in the back of a semi dark, private plane. The strange man was dressed in a black suit, dark glasses hiding his eyes. Mac was seated in one of the posh chairs blending out from the side of the cabin. The man remained standing.

"I can't tell you where this came from. I can't even tell you if it is possible. But, if it is, it may be what is happening," the man said.

Mac sat thinking, This guy has to be a government spook, his appearance testifies to that.

"You're as batty as Winston Adams, if you think I'm going to take this serious," Mac answered.

"Don't make the mistake of blowing Mr. Adams off, not entirely, anyway," the man lectured. "We don't think he is just a coincidence. We are giving you a chance to aline with us. If this is real Mr. McMillian, you don't want to be on the other side, trust me."

"I'm a scientist for Christ sake, I can't be running off, chasing lost souls."

"This may be a new science, or something else entirely Mr. McMillian. You of all people should know we are reaching new plateaus all the time."

The man stood and returned to the cockpit, sitting back in the copilots seat.
Chapter 22

"THANK YOU FOR MEETING WITH ME - Mac," Henry Ackerman said, extending his hand.

Mac took the hand to just shake, but Henry grasped Mac's hand firmly and pumped it, not relinquishing the hold. Mac was at first uncomfortable, but seemed to change his mind.

"I know I can count on you," Henry said, still grasping Mac's hand, placing his other hand over Mac's and looking deep into his eyes. "It's time the program took on some new directions, don't you think?"

Mac didn't respond and he seemed to be in some sort of trance.

"I know I can count on you," Henry repeated, loosening his tight hold and smiling at Mac. He then turned and left Mac standing there, uncertain.

Chapter 23

CARL STUCK HIS HEAD INTO MAC'S OFFICE - "Mac, did you know that Ackerman is scheduled to go on the shuttle mission in less than thirty days?"

"I thought that was against policy," Mac said not looking up.

"I thought so too, but apparently somebody goofed. I'm meeting with the scheduling director in an hour. I'll let you know how this one slipped by."

***

Carl was at the meeting with the scheduling director, a Colonel Wisp.

"Colonel Wisp," Carl started, "I thought that the astronauts were supposed to have a training and resting interval between their flights?"

"Yes, that has been the policy, until now," Wisp, a staunch looking soldier type replied. His square face, military hair cut, and perfectly fitting uniform with rows of ribbons gave him the look of the guy you wanted with his hand on the button, if you desired to blow up the world. The only thing missing was the big stogy dancing ominously with his words, only because the building had a nonsmoking rule.

"What changed the policy?"

"Someone felt that it was time to analyze a turn around to see if there are any difficulties with the personnel. There will come a time when the entire flight crew will be required to do turn arounds, don't you think?" Wisp said in a patronizing tone.

"I would like to know who the someone who made the decision is?"

"I don't see what interest it would be of yours Mr. Boroughs," Wisp's tone had turned to snooty, "after all, public relations is a difficult enough proposition. I imagine that you have much more pressing issues at hand."

Carl finally got angry. "I'm sure you can understand it is necessary to keep up with all aspects of the program. I need to cover everybody's ass when someone makes a mistake, Colonel! That is public relations!"

"Mr. Boroughs, this kind of thing is not that important." Wisp sat back, using a condescending tone. "We feel the time has come to expand the responsibilities of some of the personnel. This is the perfect situation, don't you think?"

"Who made the decision Colonel? That's all I'm interested in right now?"

"Mr. Boroughs," Wisp sighed, "it is not something you should concern yourself with."

"Very well then. I can inform you that Mac Macmillan will be calling for the information."

"I don't understand what all the fuss is about?" Wisp cried. "Major Ackerman is very capable of handling the upcoming mission. He has guaranteed me that the additional responsibilities on this next mission will not overburden him."

"Ackerman wanted to go?"

"Yes, he was very determined, and the committee was interested in his reasons."

"Which were?"

Wisp sighed again, "Mr. Boroughs, you know I can't give you that information. You have no need to second guess departmental decisions. You do your job, everyone else does theirs. Isn't this agency set up like that, or do you think you are above that?"
Chapter 24

"YOU HAVE SOMETHING IMPORTANT?" Mac asked impatiently, as Carl sagged down in his customary chair in Mac's office.

"I'm not sure, but I had that asshole Wisp chewing my ass out for daring to ask questions," Carl said.

"He's a dork, a catch twenty-two in the flesh." Mac waved the complaint off with his hand. "He can't get a ride because he's an idiot, so he's a bigger idiot because he can't get a ride. He didn't hurt your feelings, I hope, because right about now I don't need people that are sensitive?"

"I'm just thinking."

"About what?" Mac finally looked up. "Spit it out Carl."

"In my head, I think we might have a problem."

"Is this an intuition, or do you have some serious reasons?"

"A little of both, but I can tell you, if it was just a feeling I wouldn't be here, yet."

"I appreciate that. With all that's going on, I really do, but seeing you have some valid reason to be here, tell me." Mac looked earnestly at Carl. "You do have a valid reason?"

"It's about Ackerman."

"Oh shit Carl, not now! Goddamn, he's scheduled to go in three weeks. I can't believe this!"

"That stuff with his wife, she's not the only one that's noticed the difference."

"Great, fill me in, ruin my day."

"There's not much really. Only that Ackerman has undergone a complete change in personality."

"If he's weirded out, why did he get the okay on this next launch?"

"That's another thing I wanted to talk to you about. Since when does an astronaut take a turn around schedule?"

"Ah, I don't know." Mac's attention went back down to his desk. "All I got was they were interested in some new research. They said they wanted to study the effects of a quick turn around. It made sense to me."

"I wonder who's baby this one is?" Carl looked at a paper he had in his hand. "Getting back to the weird thing. That's exactly what he's not. He's just a different Ackerman. All his colleagues sense this, but are kind of looking the other way, claiming people change, but his wife is still insisting that it's not him, period."

"What do you mean everyone is looking the other way?" Mac asked, not looking up.

"Ackerman has improved himself. He's now the perfect astronaut. He was well thought of before, but now he's super guy, all around."

"And you don't believe it?"

"That's not the point. I'm supposed to look out for you, and if something goes wrong you get the big heat. This is just doing my job."

"What do we do?"

"I don't think Ackerman should go yet. We need to sort this out."

"Oh Christ Carl." Mac looked up. "Do you know what they'd have to go through to change the crew at this late date? It might mean dropping the whole mission and you know we can't do that. We're not an airline, we can't pull flights without everyone getting suspicious."

"That's not the point."

"Damn Carl, anything we do now is going to be automatically defined as an overreaction. We're getting paranoid down here, etc. I've heard that more than once."

"Do I have to spell out the point?"

"Point, point, Carl you've used the word a lot, so what is the point?"

"I don't know, exactly."

"There you go!" Mac went back to his work. "When you get something solid, come back. Look, if I have to pull Ackerman it has got to be within a day or two. I need something more than just a change in philosophy to act on this. What does Ackerman have to say about his apparent change?"

"Ah," Carl threw his hands up, "he says Donald's death made a profound influence on him, 'Made him think', was his quote."

"Well, there you go." Mac's head came up. "That is viable, it makes sense!"

"I though so too, but there's still his wife. I've gone over and over it with her and she doesn't bend. Ackerman is not Ackerman, according to her."

"Carl this agency is not run by spouses. Would you like to see that?"

Carl didn't say anything.

"What about family, other people close to him?" Mac asked.

"There's no one really, small family, scattered, not close. Ackerman hasn't seen any of them for years. He was mostly a loner."

"You've got to get more Carl. I can't act on this unless you get more. If I did, it would look like we're trying to sabotage someone."

"I figured that, but I thought I should fill you in. Look, just find out how the quick turn around happened, who pushed it through?"

"Why's that so important?"

"It's something Jennifer Ackerman said, I can't get it out of my head."

"What'd she say?" Mac asked with a big sigh.

"She said Henry told her this next flight was the big one. The one that would change everything."

"She's just making it up, trying to get attention."

"Maybe, but what if she's telling the truth?"

"And we act on that and that alone?" Mac was shaking his head no. "I need more Carl, a lot more."

"Is it okay if we get him in here, talk to him," Carl asked.

"There you go, that makes sense," Mac's tone was patronizing.
Chapter 25

"HENRY, WE KNOW YOU'RE EXTREMELY BUSY - with the upcoming mission and all, but there are some issues Mac and I need to take care of," Carl asked the astronaut as soon as he sat down in Mac's office.

"I'm all ears gentlemen," Ackerman answered, a big smile on his face.

"You know your wife is a little concerned about you," Carl continued.

"Bless that dear, sweet lady. You know, it's funny. All the years that I was so damn inconsiderate about her, and other things, I didn't realize how much a little respect would get you."

"It's not only her, everyone says that you are a different person," Carl commented.

"I've been wanting to change many things about myself for a long time. I'm sure you both know you could stand a little improvement." Ackerman lifted his eyebrows and looked at Carl for a moment and then shifted his gaze to Mac. "Well, seeing one of my comrades, I respected very much, die, not only made me realize it can happen so fast, but that I should make my changes before it might be too late. I had the perfect example to follow because Donald had all the qualities I was missing."

"So you're saying your improvement is a tribute to him?" Mac asked Ackerman.

"What better tribute, and besides, like I said, we all need a little improving now and then. I just decided to do it," Ackerman proclaimed, getting up. He reached for Carl's hand to shake it. Ackerman gave Carl the same extended pumping shake he had used on Mac, but the results were different. Carl's demeanor was one of curiosity, and it showed on his face.

***

"Do you get the feeling we've been bullshitted a little," Carl asked Mac when Henry Ackerman had left.

"Carl, the man did sound sincere and his reasoning was very sound."

"Yeah, he was right about you needing some improvement."

"And you don't Carl?"

"Ha, ha, he 'is' rather convincing, I'll say that, but something I heard recently comes to mind."

"And what's that?"

"Oh, about trying to be perfect. That it is impossible, hence, it is a waste of time."

"You think that Ackerman is trying to be perfect?"

"Not only is trying, I'm saying he might just be."

"And you say it's impossible, so something's wrong?"

"Something like that," Carl said, lightly rubbing the hand Ackerman had shook.
Chapter 26

"COLONEL WISP - why did Ackerman request to go back so soon?" Mac asked the man. They were sitting in Mac's office, Carl was present.

"He felt the problem with the computer during reentry, and the loss of the signals needed to be looked at," Wisp explained. "Considering he was aboard the mission and has spent considerable time going over the information, he felt that he would be the best man for the job."

"He felt!" Carl yelped.

"And we concurred," Wisp returned quickly.

"You know, I've been over and over this thing with the programmers and they say it's a system glitch. It can be fixed from down here, if it ever pops up again," Carl stated.

"Ackerman felt that someone should get the data from onboard, when it happens again." Wisp shrugged.

Carl quickly looked at Mac. "He's expecting this again?" It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"Excuse me, I meant 'if'," Wisp suddenly looked nervous.

"No, no!" Carl said, holding his hands up, stopping Wisp. "You said Ackerman was expecting it to happen 'again'." Carl got up, standing over the Colonel. "I don't want your opinion."

"Carl, that's enough!" Mac jumped in. "I'm sure the Colonel was not trying to mislead us," Mac gave Wisp a scolding look. "Isn't that right Colonel?"

"Yes, of course." Wisp was trying to regain his composure. "I meant if it 'did occur again', we should be prepared, that's all."

Mac got up from behind his desk. "I think we've covered everything, sorry to waste your time Colonel."

***

"Thanks for getting rid of that lying sack of crud," Carl said as soon as the door closed behind Wisp.

"He's part of this program, and I don't like your attitude," Mac scolded.

"Excuse me!" Carl shot back. "I thought we were trying to get to the bottom of this, and he sits here and lies, and now your telling me to forget it. Is that what I'm hearing?"

"Accusations are not going to solve anything," Mac said calmly.

"No, I guess not, so I'll have to do this on my own." Carl was on his feet, also heading out the door.

"Don't stir the pot," Mac warned, "I won't help you out of any holes you dig for yourself," Mac added as the door shut behind Carl.

***

The phone rang in Colonel Wisp's office, Wisp picked it up.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He heard Mac's angry voice through the line. "Carl is not stupid. You are in this all the way, don't blow it!"

"I don't know what you are talking about?" Wisp countered.

"You said 'again', when it happens 'again', you fool!" Mac roared.

"What can he do?" Wisp sounded miffed.

"He just stormed out of this office, determined, and I don't like the idea of going up against a determined Carl Boroughs. I'd sig him on you, let you take the heat," Mac was really furious, "but he'd chew you up and spit you out, and we can't have anything go wrong!"

There was a long hesitation. Mac was waiting for Wisp to say something and trying to cool down, but Wisp was afraid to speak.

"You got anything to say?" Mac finally broke the silence.

"What do you think I should do?" Wisp sniveled.

"Christ, just what I figured; you're too stupid to live." Mac slammed the phone down.
Chapter 27

ACKERMAN WAS HUSTLING DOWN THE STREET - having just left his accountant's office. He didn't see the tall, scraggly gentleman across the street or just didn't notice him, being the guy looked like a street person. Henry didn't pay any attention until it was too late, and the Reverend Hollsworth was upon him, blocking his way.

"You!" the Reverend shouted, pointing at Ackerman. Hollsworth had his feet planted firmly apart, an out thrust arm and ridged finger directed right at the startled astronaut. Hollsworth's dirty, shabby, ill fitting black garb billowed in the breeze.

Ackerman stopped dead in his tracks, shocked by the intrusion.

"You!" the Reverend shouted louder. There were many people on the street and those that had not noticed the developing altercation after the first shout were alerted by the second louder yell.

Ackerman didn't respond verbally, just put his head down and tried to walk away.

"You!" the Reverend yelled even louder, stepping to block Ackerman's path. "You have taken the evil and are calling it your own!"

"Leave me alone," Ackerman snarled under his breath. The entire street full of people watched the clash with growing interest.

"This . . . this . . ." the Reverend stumbled, looking for the right word, looking around to the crowd, still moving to block Ackerman's escape when necessary. "This 'Being'," Hollsworth finally found a convincing term to use, "has taken it upon himself to speak for you all."

"Get away from me old man," Ackerman said a little louder.

"And who does 'he' speak for?" Ackerman had finally gotten around Hollsworth, but the crowd had closed in and Henry couldn't find a clear path, as Hollsworth bore into him.

"He speaks for Lucifer," The Reverend roared.

Ackerman finally turned around to confront his tormenter. "Stop it!" Henry shouted back. "You don't know what you're talking about." Henry turned to the people gathered around them. "He's a demented old man, don't listen to him," Henry said in a conciliatory voice.

"You don't fool me, or them, one bit!" Hollsworth sounded righteous. "I can feel the evil pouring from you. I had a vision, and an apparition came to me. It wasn't from here, it was created not of this Earth, and I thought it was Donald, but I was wrong, it is you. Why did I think it was Donald?"

"You old fool, what are you blathering about?"

"Don't dispel me! I know about you. I can sense the power."

"Bah," Ackerman tried to push Hollsworth, but the old man was surprisingly strong. "get away from me."

"But you're the fool!" Hollsworth harangued. "I can feel the force, the one you want for yourself. If I can feel it, it's not yours for the keeping. There are many who are like me, and you will never get to keep it for yourself."

"If you are so perceptive," Ackerman had enough and retaliated with a sinister tone, "as you say, you know not to mess with me old man. I can use the power, and you can only feel it."

"You stole it from Donald?"

Ackerman turned angry "It was given to me!"

"You don't intend to share it then?"

"I'll share it, but only with those that I choose!" Ackerman proclaimed.

"That is not something you can decide for yourself," Hollsworth said calmly, shaking his head slowly.

"Watch me old man. Just you watch me!" Ackerman had spittle flying from his mouth. The crowd parted for him quickly, being more shocked by his behavior than the old man's.

Chapter 28

CARL AND AMY WERE IN THE BATHROOM - getting ready to go out. "Mac's bullshitting me," Carl said, wiping the last of the shaving cream off his face.

"It's a difficult time for you guys," Amy answered.

"I know, but this is a different kind of deception." Carl was sitting on the counter watching Amy put on her makeup. "He's not working with me. He has his own agenda." Carl slid off the counter. "It's like sides are forming, and he's not on mine."

"Watch out." Amy gave him a concerned look. "There's a lot of focus on you guys, and if sides are forming, he's only going to be your friend if you go along with his side."

"I thought you kind of liked Mac?"

"Just because I let him eat my salad, and he compliments me, doesn't mean a thing. He's dependent on that political wind that blows through all government agencies. It's the same one that makes the whistling sound as it rushes between your ears."

"Is that your way of warning me?"

"I don't think you need to be warned, just reminded now and then."

"I don't think I like where all this is headed."

"Oh baloney, you live for this," Amy laughed. "This is what makes you come."

"Oh yeah, why does it scare me then?"

"Because you're too reserved in your every day life," Amy said, looking at herself in the mirror.

"This is your way of screwing in the phone booth down at the corner."

"Analyze this, Freudette!" Carl made a finger gesture to Amy.
Chapter 29

CARL STORMED INTO MAC'S OFFICE- "You don't set up meetings anymore?" Mac asked, sitting behind his desk. He leaned back in his chair, as Carl walked up to the desk.

"I find it rather disturbing," Carl stated, "that Ackerman has been able to infiltrate the mission selection and mission personnel meetings."

"It's to late to—" Mac tried to cut him off."

"Hear me out!" Carl demanded.

Mac just gestured for him to continue.

Carl took a deep breath, "I talked to West over at training and he tells me that Ackerman has been everywhere and is very influential. He sounds very concerned about what happened to Donald, and the loss of signals at reentry. Ackerman passes off the Alpha thing as part of the same problem. More than one person has commented on Ackerman's determination, and Miller out at Mission Control said it reminds him of Donald. Everyone I've talked to describes Ackerman as determined as hell and very persuasive. You know what's odd?"

"I can't imagine?" Mac sounded patronizing.

"No one is put out about it!" Carl shrugged, hands out, palms up. "He's showing all the classic signs of an overly ambitious person, and this is a bureaucracy filled with suspicious people, and no one is reacting. They're all behind him. Something's up I tell you."

Mac was smiling now. "We have an astronaut that is showing exorbitant enthusiasm about his responsibilities, and that has you concerned?"

"We have a situation that is not normal. That is what has me concerned." Carl stated.

"These people have worked long and hard and are coming together. If you can't see that, I think you have the problem," Mac stated emphatically.

"Did you hear about Hollsworth and Ackerman?" Carl added.

"No . . ." Mac didn't want to hear it, his hesitation signaled that. "What happened?"

"Hollsworth stopped Ackerman on the street and leveled some pretty damaging charges."

"What!" Mac cried, "We can't let whackos accost our people, especially in public." Mac looked at Carl, "What are you going to do about it?"

"It's public domain, besides, you need to talk to Ackerman. He's the one that apparently blew it. Hollsworth baited him and he fell apart."

***

"What the hell were you thinking?" Mac cried. He had arranged to met with Ackerman. "You lost it, and now people are wondering."

"It doesn't matter, no one can stop us," Ackerman said with contempt as they walked down through the grass, discussing the situation on the spreading grounds of the Agency.

"We don't want bad publicity," Mac pleaded, "Ackerman, think, this is for the good of the people. We want them coming to us for salvation, that is the whole purpose."

Ackerman looked at Mac with a sort of disdain on his face. "I'm not interested in what 'they' think, nor do you."

"You're wrong Henry. I long for this because of what it can do for the poor, lost souls of this world."

"The poor, lost souls want us to make the rules. That is what they need and want."

"It can bring us all together," Mac stuck to his argument.

"A true uncontested leader is what will bring it all together."

Mac was about to open his mouth to reason with Ackerman, but it suddenly dawned on him that Ackerman was too far imbedded in his own timetable to quarrel with about moral issues.

"You blow getting on the mission, and all will be for naught," Mac finally resorted to plausible threats.

Ackerman had been departing, but this stopped him. "They can't change their minds, not now."

"You bring unwanted attention to yourself, and I can guarantee there will be problems." Mac was the one to walk away first.

Chapter 30

ALICE AND WINSTON WERE IN A CROWDED LOBBY - "Well, what's your opinion of the lecture, so far?" Alice asked Winston.

"I was of the impression the whole lecture was related to Dr. Albright's opinion that he was right." Winston was looking over the crowd. "The best part is this intermission, so far," he complained.

"That's why they're called lectures," Alice laughed. "Well, do you think he's right?"

"Right about what?" Winston looked uncomfortable in the packed lobby.

"Damn you Winston." Alice was right in front of him, trying to get him to focus instead of searching the crowd. "Why can't you ever give me a straight answer?"

"Because I don't have an answer." He finally looked down to Alice.

"You keep saying that!" Alice was getting frustrated. She put her hands on her hips. "Do you have an opinion, or what?"

"Not yet." Winston shrugged, his attention back to the crowd.

"F you Winston!" Alice stomped her foot.

"Now Alley, we agreed that we were going to be very objective about all this and I am sticking to it." Winston said, looking at her. "I don't want to give you the impression I know any more than I do."

"That's one hell of a cop-out Whinny baby."

"No, it's not." Now Winston had his hands on his hips. "I'm not sure about anything at this time. That's why I want to meet Ackerman. That is the reason we're here, not to get into discussions about Dr. Albright's asinine assumptions."

"Oh, and Ackerman will confirm or discredit your suspicions?"

"I hope I will learn something from him, yes."

"Good, I hope so because this is getting really frustrating," Alice complained.

"Me or the subject?" Winston lowered his eyebrows and scowled at Alice.

"Both Winston, both," she answered with clenched teeth.

Alice moved her head slightly to the side to look around Winston. "Here comes our boy Ackerman."

Alice stepped casually around Winston and walked toward the approaching astronaut. "Say, aren't you Henry Ackerman, the astronaut?" she asked, extending her hand.

"Yes, and you are?" Ackerman responded as he slowed, his way blocked by Alice.

"Alice Smithers and I'm a great fan of all you guys. I mean, I think it's really exciting to be able to go up there. It must really give you a different prospective and all that?"

"On what, Ms. Smithers?" Ackerman was trying to move around her, but with all the people it was difficult.

"Oh, all our problems and things like that," Alice kind of stumbled, trying to think of something intelligent to add.

"What problems are you referring to?" Ackerman said disinterested, still trying to get away.

"All the problems here on Earth, I guess," Alice said softly, knowing she was making herself look stupid. "You know, the condition of the planet and all that?"

Ackerman finally gave her a small smile. "It looks just fine from up there, if that will make you feel better, and thank you for your concern."

"Thank you," Alice said relieved, glad that Ackerman had given her a small reprieve.

She turned, glad to see Winston was still behind her. Winston was looking at Ackerman intently.

"Mr. Ackerman, I would like you to meet a friend of mine," she said, indicating Winston. Ackerman had not noticed Winston before, but when he was introduced he looked at Adams. There was a startled look on his face. He seemed surprised.

"Do we know each other?" Ackerman asked with an uncomfortable tone in his voice.

Winston didn't say anything, just stared at Ackerman. Alice turned back to Winston, wondering why he didn't acknowledge the introduction. She was about to introduce Winston again when Ackerman's face went tense, then suddenly changed to panic.

"What do you want?" Ackerman shrieked.

The outbreak was heard by the people around them and they all fell silent, watching. Alice turned to Winston; he had a look of extreme concentration, a look that bored into Ackerman.

"I don't give autographs or interviews lady!" Ackerman shouted, pushing past Alice without looking at her.

When Ackerman was through the door, he turned slightly and looked back. Winston was still watching him intently with a far away look on his face. Alice had to tug at Winston's sleeve to get his attention.

"Yeah, what is it?" Winston responded tersely.

"Winston are you okay?" she asked him, concerned, still hanging on to his sleeve.

"Yeah, yeah," he said.

"What was that all about?"

"Nothing," Winston stated sternly.

Alice pulled down hard on his sleeve, and moved her mouth up as close to his ear as she could. "Look dammit, you said you were going to keep me informed, and something just happened here. Now tell me dammit! You owe me that much."

Winston seemed to come out of the fog. "I don't think you'd understand. It would only confuse you."

"Horse pucky. You tell me what you know!"

"He's not one of us," Winston said very softly.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Winston didn't answer, but turned and headed toward the door.

***

Winston was hailing a cab, as Alice finally caught up to him.

"You can't shut me out like this, I saw what happened in there." Alice wanted answers.

"I'm not shutting you out, I just don't have anything I could tell you, that's all."

"What happened in there?"

"Ackerman is not who he says he is."

"Please explain."

"Alley, you want answers I can't give you. Now, do you think it would be fair for me to lie to you. Make something up just to get you off my back? Is that what you want?"

"Of course not, but I saw something happen to Ackerman when you met him. I saw it with my own eyes Winston."

"Ackerman, or who ever he is, realized that I saw through him and he got scared, that's all. I've done it to a lot of people, remember?"

"And that's all I'm going to get out of you, huh?"

A cab pulled up. Winston was silent as he got in.

Thanks a lot Winston!" Alice snapped at him.

"It's all I'm sure of, I'm sorry." Winston closed the door and the cab drove away, leaving her standing.
Chapter 31

CARL WAS DRIVING HIS CAR - with Alice in the passenger seat.

"You met Ackerman, what do you think?" Carl asked Alice.

"He got really spooked by Winston," she said.

"Other than that, did you form any opinion?"

"At first, before Winston derailed him, smug, one of those real righteous dudes." She looked over at Carl. "What was Donald like?"

"A smug, righteous dude."

"And Ackerman, before all this happened?"

"Kind of a slob, didn't give a shit about anything. He was in the program because he was very intelligent and didn't really have to work at anything, it all came natural. They referred to him as the fourth stooge."

"Winston really upset him," Alice commented again.

"What did he say to him?"

"Nothing, I told you, he just stared, but Ackerman went nuts, lost his cool. Winston really scared him."
Chapter 32

CARL AND AMY WERE LAYING IN BED - when Amy commented. "Strange things are happening, huh?"

"Like what?" Carl returned.

"Oh, the Donald thing. First he was killed, then he wasn't really dead, and now he's dead for sure. I mean you guys are looking really inept. Do you think your explanations will fly?"

"We can hope. After all, everybody has problems with their computers. They should be sympathetic."

"And the truth?"

"Haven't the slightest idea?"

"Carl sweetie, not everybody is stupid. That's not going to fly. People at work are asking 'me', for gosh sakes."

"What could you possibly know?"

"I bed down, regularly, with the idiot that is supposed to know. They can't help themselves. There is a rumor that one of the returning astronauts is possessed by Donald's spirit."

"I heard that one, it's a mess for sure."

"Well, I'm here for more than just the sex. You can run it by me, it might make you feel better.

"Ackerman!" Carl admitted

"Yeah, that's the name going around."

"It's out already?"

"Since this morning, and you guys look like real clowns. I hate to be the one to break it to you."

"Bullshit, you just came twice!"

"Now that we know my motives, spill your guts, you sexy thing."

"We don't have the slightest idea what the hell is going on. It's all speculation right now."

"I just came again."

"Winston Adams is the only one that makes any sense."

"Heard that at noon."

"Damn, I might as well go to work with you in the morning. I'll get more accomplished."

"No way Jose, I don't want to be sick of you, yet."

"I'm thinking of meeting with Adams again."

"It wouldn't hurt. Going outside the problem sometimes gives a better perspective of what's right in front of your face."

"Yeah, I've been checking around the Agency and I can't believe what my hypotheses has come to. I've discovered that some strange decisions have been made. Almost as if someone was hypnotizing the people in charge of mission personnel."

"You space nuts are real spooky."

Chapter 33

MAC WAS ON THE PHONE - "Yes, we're on the secure line."

Mac listened.

"I'm aware of the importance of—"

"I couldn't stop him," Mac said angrily into the phone, then listened.

"What are you insinuating? . . ."

"I run this agency, and right now you need me to accomplish your mission . . ."

"This thing came out of the blue, so don't you dare suggest that I'm inept. I have run this program for three years and— "

"She is not going to find anything, I saw to that! . . ."

"Are you going to eliminate anyone that appears to be curious? . . ."

"Where are you going to bury all the bodies? You're going to need one hell of a big hole because this isn't the dark ages . . ."

"Let me tell you something, and you listen closely. You find it so easy to threaten because you're in the background. I'm out in the open and have to consider every move. I can't afford to bring any negative attention to our . . . our plan . . ."

"Yeah, well don't threaten me because you need me!" Mac slammed the phone.

***

"Man my tennis game is taking a beating," Mac complained to Carl as Carl stepped into Mac's office, "with all this damn work to do."

"Ah, don't take it so hard, you're not very good anyway," Carl commented.

"Well, at least I can get in a few licks on the miserable ball, occasionally," Mac sighed. "But this crap just keeps coming at you and you can't hit back."

"Yeah, I know, everybody wants answers and they want them now," Carl commiserated with him.

"The worst part is, I'm not really sure there is a problem."

Mac's phone rang and he picked it up.

"Send her in," Mac said into the phone, then looked up at Carl. "Little Miss Smithers the pushy broad is here, and I want you to know, I do not approve, not one bit."

Alice walked in.

"Well, Alice what have you got for us?" Mac asked her.

"Not much, yet, but I haven't had too much time."

"Well, give us what you've got," Mac said impatiently.

"I'm sorry, but we took readings of Ackerman awake, asleep, sedated, and nothing resembled the Donald's readings."

"A dead end then, just as I figured, so—" Mac was ready to end the interview.

"So far," interrupted Alice, "but I really didn't expect anything. I mean those Alpha readings were something that had never been seen before and could be total misinformation entirely."

"Meaning Miss Smithers?"

"You guys had some equipment problems at reentry, could the readings be just an extension of that."

"Carl asked you to do comparisons, not analyze our systems. You know, I cut you loose once and I wasn't to happy about you being brought back in."

"Sorry, I got carried away."

"Carl and I are under the gun and we are hoping for some quick solutions. Although I'm beginning to think there might be nothing to be so concerned about."

"I wouldn't hope too much for that," Alice added quickly.

"What are you getting at?" Mac sounded suspicious.

"The official approach didn't net much," Alice paused, "but the unofficial approach was quite different."

"Unofficial?" Mac asked sort of choking.

"I can't prove it, but I think we are talking to Donald, not Ackerman," Alice asserted.

"Miss Smithers," Mac announced, "Donald was killed, and although there were some complications concerning that mission," Mac was watching Carl, "don't go saying silly and confusing things."

"I'm just telling you what I think."

"Well, what makes you think the way you do?"

"Like I said, I did some unofficial checking and turned up some interesting stuff."

"I wish you would quit using unofficial, it makes me nervous," Mac growled.

"We arranged to bump into Ackerman. It was Winston's idea. He—"

"You took this on yourself?" Mac interrupted, shouting again. "You planned this deception on Ackerman without consulting anyone? Is that what I'm hearing here?" Mac was slapping his palm lightly on his desk.

"I did what I thought was the next step."

"The next step young lady," Mac commanded, "is to always get it from this office! Always! Do you understand?"

"Winston says that we were talking to Donald, not Ackerman," Alice continued, unfazed.

"What the hell was Winston Adams doing anywhere near this thing?" Mac yelled.

"I—"

"I'm not finished! This office, this job, is my life and I'll be damned if I'm going to have it ruined by a snotty nosed researcher."

Carl was watching Alice's reaction. Alice was still, but a nasty look was forming on her face. She sat up and moved forward, bending over Mac's desk, supporting herself with straight arms.

"Look buddy!" Alice shouted, looking directly at Mac. "You asked me to come in as an independent and I did, and then got sent away without any answers, and then you guys call me back in. I was instructed to give you a profile on Donald compared to Ackerman. I'm doing that the best way I can."

"Nobody instructed you to bring Winston in!" Mac hadn't quieted.

"Is that what's got your craw?" Alice laughed. "You have this thing about Winston, and I can tell you, you are full of shit with your opinion of Adams."

Carl grimaced. Mac settled back and relaxed in his chair, a little smile spreading over his face. "If I find out that either you, or that screw-up Adams ever comes close to this issue, again, I will have you both arrested!"

Carl flinched again.

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"It means, you snotty little bitch, you and your opinions are no longer welcome."

"No big deal. I'll do it on my own then."

"You cannot! I order you to stay away from it."

"You can't order me, I have a federal grant to do research and this is in my field."

"I will have you put in jail!"

"Go ahead! I'll sue you and this agency and have the name on the front door changed to, 'The Smithers Space Agency'."

"Get out!" Mac screamed.

Alice calmly gathered her stuff up and walked out.

***

"I don't think you handled that very well," Carl suggested after Alice had left.

"Oh, you don't?" Mac returned.

"No, I don't," Carl renewed. "What's got into you Mac?"

"I have a program to run!" Mac bellowed. He sat back, trying to regain his composure. "We have just dogged a bullet and need to get on with things. This just complicates the issues," he said in a much lower voice.

"I think we should see what Winston's got to say about this."

"He's nothing but a trouble maker," Mac's volume went up again.

"Winston helped us out getting the rescue mission up so quickly, don't forget that."

"And how did he do that?"

"Mac, he ate crow to back us. When the religious right had us in their sights, he slowed them down. You know, if it hadn't been for him, I predict Donald would still be out there. The good Reverend Hollsworth had a fairly good following and it was growing."

"Hollsworth's a fool, and Winston helping us is bullshit. He's in there for personal gain."

"Maybe, maybe not, but I think he wants answers, just like we do."

"I will not, and I repeat, will not deal with Adams!" Mac said shouting. "This is none of his business! This is my deal!"

Carl gave him a concerned look.

"You know what I mean," Mac said quickly.

"I don't know Mac. I think we need all the help we can get."

"You're overreacting Carl. You are seeing problems where they don't exist."

"I hope you're right."

"Carl, Ackerman explained himself very well, can't you see that?"

"It's too pat, just too clean."

"I'm inclined to trust one of our own people rather than a media whore like Winston Adams."

"Well, Mac, is it okay if I keep an open mind about all this?"

"I don't like your implications Carl."

"I'm only implying that I'm not satisfied. I can't just drop it if I'm not comfortable."

"Do what you must, I can't stop you."

"No, you sure can't Mac."

"But be advised though, I can do something about little tight ass Alice."

"I'd leave that one alone Mac."

"Bullshit, she stirs anything up, and I'll have her rear." Mac pounded his desk, "You tell her to stay the hell away from Winston too."

"You invite her in, you kick her out, and then when I bring her back in, you don't like her answers, so you kick her out again."

"Yeah, well, she's another trouble maker."

"We'll see Mac, we'll see."

"I can't order you to stay away from her Carl, but I can strongly recommend it." Mac gave Carl a serious look.

"Recommendation acknowledged."

"You're going beyond the Agency here Carl. I'm warning you for your own good, this is something you don't want to get on the wrong side of."

Carl was about to leave, but stood for a moment, thinking. "The wrong side of what?"

"Huh?"

"You said the wrong side of, the wrong side of what?" Carl questioned.

"It was just a figure of speech," Mac said, not looking up.
Chapter 34

CARL ENTERED HIS APARTMENT - and Amy was sitting on the couch, obviously waiting for him.

"I tried to call you this afternoon," Amy said sounding angry.

"I'm sorry, I got the message, but it's been hectic." Carl looked at her. She was definitely mad about something. "I hope it wasn't something important," Carl tried to apologize.

"Talked to Jim Maddox this afternoon," she said in short concise words.

"And?" Carl asked, going into the bathroom.

"He is a little upset," again the short precise speech.

"Huuhmm." Carl knew it was something important and he'd better pay attention.

"Alice got jumped today!" Amy shouted accusingly.

"That did happen, but the only thing that got hurt was her pride," Carl said, sticking his head out of the bathroom. "She's pretty tough though, I'm surprised she ran to anyone so quick."

"She's in the hospital!" Amy shouted at him.

It took a second for the severity of the comment to impact. When it did, he reacted by heading out of the bathroom, colliding with Amy who was headed in.

"What?" Carl cried. "I thought you were talking about the meeting we had?"

"That too!" Amy slammed her fist on Carl's chest. "Someone tried to kill her, right after."

"What!" Carl grabbed her fist as it headed toward his chest again. "You can't be serious! You think we had anything to do with something like that?"

"I don't know Carl, but I don't like to be put in a situation like this."

"Amy, she was probably mugged or something. She's—"

"She was not mugged!" Amy cut him off. "The police said it looked like a hit. They didn't try to rob her. You had better figure out where you stand buddy. I don't, I won't, I will not have anything to do with someone who operates like this."

"You can't think I had anything—"

"Willing or not, it needs to be fixed!" Amy pulled away from him and walked quickly for the couch in the living room. She reached down, picked up a suitcase that Carl had not seen and headed for the door. She walked through the door without saying anything more.
Chapter 35

A SERIOUS LOOKING - police detective was in Mac's office, his notebook open. He declined the invitation to sit down, hovering over Mac at his own desk.

"Yes, I chewed her out, but she deserved it," Mac admitted, "but I certainly did not have her beat up."

"She says, they tried to kill her," the Detective said.

"We don't try to kill people we have disputes with, it makes us look bad," Mac barked.

"I can appreciate your humor." The Detective shook his head slightly. "I doubt if the victim would see it that way though. I have to know exactly what was said, and by whom."

"I can't remember everything." Mac turned to Carl. "Could you Carl?"

"Not verbatim, it was pretty heated though," Carl said, and Mac gave him a nasty look.

"Were any threats made?" the Detective asked.

"We were mad, it meant nothing." Mac shrugged. "She threatened me, I . . . yelled back."

"Did you, or did you not threaten Ms. Smithers?"

"I threatened to have her arrested, nothing more."

The Detective looked at Carl. "That's about the extent of it," Carl said. "She was threatened with arrest, nothing more."

"Arrest. That sounds fairly serious." The Detective pursed his lips. "She was deemed a risk of some sort, maybe?"

"She signed a nondisclosure form and she was close to reneging. This is serious business because we're talking about a Federal Agency."

"I guess," the Detective said. "That's all for now, but I'll be in touch," he added, turning to leave.

***

"Do you believe that shit?" Mac snapped when the detective was out the door.

"I don't know what to believe?" Carl was looking at Mac, displeased.

"You aren't insinuating anything . . . are you, because if you are?"

"Mac, everything is getting crazy. Smithers would be dead if a couple of kids hadn't come along."

"Carl, she got into her own trouble. It has nothing to do with what happened here, I guarantee you. What the hell is wrong with you? Do you think I could—?"

Carl threw up his hands, stopping Mac. "The attacker told her it was about sticking her nose where it didn't belong."

"It'll turn out to be crap, you watch."

"I hope so Mac, I really hope so." Carl sat down with an, oof. "Amy left me," he added.

Mac didn't say anything for a few seconds, just looked at Carl. "Over this?"

"Pretty much, yes."

"Women pull this kind of shit all the time, grow up!"

"Not this one."
Chapter 36

CARL AND AMY WERE IN A RESTAURANT - "Alice Smithers has gone into hiding," Amy said quietly.

"I can't blame her. Did she add anything?"

"Not really, but she's terrified. Winston was there."

"He won't talk to me either." Carl was miserable.

"He thinks you may be involved?"

"Look Amy, I am being suspected by association only. I have voiced my opinion with the Agency and I am shut out there too. I have nowhere to turn. I might as well pack it in if no one is going to talk to me."

"I'll see if I can talk to Winston," said Amy.
Chapter 37

CARL WAS OUTSIDE MAC'S OFFICE - standing at the open door.

"Mac, I've called more than once, why the cold shoulder?" Carl said, sticking his head in.

"I'm busy. You have anything important, or are your feelings just hurt."

"I was just wondering, what is this thing with you and Ackerman?" Carl asked.

"I don't know what you're getting at?" Mac didn't even look up from his desk.

"You and Ackerman, you've been seen meeting quite often, alone, I might add."

"He's an astronaut for christ sakes, and I run the God-damn program. Who would you have me associate with, a circus clown maybe?" He finally gave Carl a glance.

"It just seems strange Mac, he's not your type at all."

"It's business Carl, just business."

"That I'm excluded from," Carl complained.

"You stick to your job, Carl, and if I think you need to be in on something, I'll bring you in."

"He's going then?"

"He's going," Mac was definite.

It was apparent that the discussion was over, so Carl left.

Chapter 38

FLORIDA, AT THE SHUTTLE LAUNCH PAD \- one of the launch techs asked Carl. "What're you doing down here?" They were in the launch control center, the Shuttle Redoubt was on the pad, and the countdown was at t-minus ten-seconds.

"I'm not doing much at my desk. I got so bored I was spending my time grooming myself."

The tech looked at him.

"I didn't realize how much hair was growing in my nose and ears."

The tech didn't retch, but hurried away.

"It was a good chance to see another launch," Carl shouted after him. "I usually love this stuff," he said to himself, as the clock hit zero, and the Shuttle belched fire and smoke and started to rise.

"I'm not so sure of this one though," Carl commented to no one in particular, as Redoubt roared into the bright blue sky.
Chapter 39

"WELL, WHAT DO YOU THINK - of your first time in space?" the Mission Commander Chick Wardman asked the Science Officer, Rob Anderson, after they had established orbit. The crew was getting it's first taste of weightlessness, everyone floating to their jobs.

"This is fantastic! I can't wait to get out there," Anderson said excited, hanging on to one of the many hand holds spaced throughout the cabin. "The launch is quite a ride," he added, his feet floating upward, getting over his head.

"Yeah, you never get used to it," said Wardman.

"I know, every time someone mentions how much volatile fuel this thing starts out with, I try not to be listening," Anderson said. "How's the reentry?"

"It's another thrill, kind of squashes you onto your keaster."

"My mother thinks I'm crazy," Anderson said.

"She should be proud of you."

"Oh, she is, but after flying fighter jets in combat, and surviving, I think she wanted me to sell life insurance." Anderson was looking out the side window, watching the far horizon of the planet below.

"It was too bad about Donald," he commented, looking over to Wardman.

"Occupational hazards my man."

"My brother died in a car accident two blocks from home," Anderson told Wardman, defending the danger. "It was really crazy. What do you think happened to him?" Anderson stayed with the subject.

"Donald? . . . Yeah, it was. . . I don't know," Wardman had gotten busy with something.

"I can't figure it, but no one is saying much," Anderson added.

"Nobody knows much."

"It's sure would be interesting to find out," Anderson said, floating away.
Chapter 40

"YOU'VE SURE BEEN QUIET - on this mission?" Wardman commented to Henry Ackerman, the mechanical arm specialist on this mission.

Henry just shrugged.

"Golly Henry, I'd almost think you're not enjoying yourself this time."

"The mission's not important," Henry finally said.

"Not important," Wardman said. "I thought you wrangled your way into getting back up here, and now it's not important?"

"I have my reasons," Ackerman stated, moving away, obviously not wanting to talk further.

***

"He sure isn't the old Ackerman," Wardman said to Bill Perkins the copilot, "he's usually all goofy smiles."

Chapter 41

FIVE DAYS LATER - Redoubt had completed it's mission and was maneuvering for the reentry.

"All right people, lets get to our stations," Wardman instructed.

"I finally saw Ackerman smile," Bill Perkins said to Wardman, getting ready for the descent.

***

Redoubt was on it's way down, back to the surface. At the pilot station, Pilot Wardman made his final communication with Mission Control.

"Houston, we will be entering blackout now, catch you on the other side."

"Roger that Redoubt, understand, it is going to get hot for you. Congratulations, you hit the spot exactly."

***

Three astronauts in the lower compartment, Ackerman, Anderson and Walsh were in their space suits, strapped into their seats. As the shuttle began to vibrate, the astronaut in the middle, Ackerman, ha what appeared to be a foggy impression of his body rise up out of the suit. The apparition lost it's human shape and divided, moving over the two remaining astronauts, Anderson and Walsh. The divided apparition moves down and into their suits.
Chapter 42

MARGE GRIMMER IS IN WITH MAC - "I took the tapes from the Redoubt Mission, and look here," Marge gets up with a readout.

"What are you up too?" Mac was annoyed. "There were no anomalies, this mission went smooth."

"Then, why does the telemetry go screwy in the reentry, like it did in both the Reliance and Reunion Missions?"

"It went smooth. We were watching for anything and it didn't materialize."

"As far as it looks from outside the shuttle, but this data is from inside, look here," Grimmer moved over to Mac.

"Did you ever consider maybe it's your program?" Mac said maliciously.

"I have been working sixteen hours a day," Marge cried, sensing Mac's direction.

"Okay, explain yourself, what am I looking at here?"

"Look at the three individual telemetries. They are different for the whole mission, and then for almost a minute they are identical, here." Marge pointed on the readout. "They seem to merge and then here," she pointed again, "they separate again."

"This is during the reentry burn?"

"Exactly."

"Well, Marge, the platform goes through a rough few minutes you know. The shuttle is subjected to immense heat and stress." Mac sat thinking. "I don't think your program is ready, obviously. I'm pulling it for now, so go back to work and find out why."

"It is not the program."

"Have you talked to Dennis?"

"Yes, he's the one that said I should talk to you."

"Well, I have no choice but to take it off the next launch."

"Mac, please, I've worked hard. If you pull it now I'll lose my funding," Marge pleaded.

"I'm sorry, but I've got no choice."

"But Mac!"

"On your way out, send Dennis in." Mac dismissed her.

***

"You pulled Grimmer?" Dennis asked. He had stepped into Mac's office.

"I had no choice."

"Mac, let her work it out, don't pull the plug."

"She's out!" Mac declared. He wasn't interested in discussing it any farther.

***

"What exactly is Grimmer's program supposed to do?" asked Carl. He had corralled Dennis outside in the parking lot.

"It's entirely speculation, but it's supposed to read the emotions the crew goes through," Dennis said, looking around.

"Emotions?" Carl questioned.

"Yeah, how their subconscious thoughts contribute to their actions." Dennis wasn't looking at Carl. "That's the best I can explain it."

"Talk about an indeterminate science, huh?"

"Well, it's a new field, but I think necessary. I'm surprised that Mac can't see that?"

"Mac is not seeing a lot of things."

Dennis finally looked at Carl, kind of shaking his head. "You know, if Mac finds out I've talked to you out here, he's not going to be pleased."

"Forget I said that," Carl said quickly.

"Hey, you hear about Wisp?" Dennis asked.

"No," Carl didn't sound to interested, "what'd he do, trip on his tongue?"

"He tripped on something! They found him sitting in his car, drooling, apparently completely out of it. He's in the hospital in a coma, and they don't expect him to come out of it."

Carl didn't say anything, just chewed his lip.

"Carl, you have a worried look on your face."

"Huh, oh, me, no, I was just thinking," Carl said trying to sound disinterested. "Look Dennis, keep me abreast." Carl hurried off.

"Smithers, Grimmer, and now Wisp. Friggen Mac," Carl mumbled to himself. "I wonder who's next?" he said looking over his shoulder.

Chapter 43

WINSTON CLOSED AND LOCKED THE DOOR \- of his Ceesna Skymaster. He was walking away, just under the tip of the right wing. There was a muffled explosion from inside the plane. Winston ducked and turned back to look at the plane. The cockpit was full of smoke, but the windows and door were still intact.
Chapter 44

CARL AND AMY WERE EATING - in a restaurant.

"I had Jennifer Ackerman in again today," Carl commented.

"What is she complaining about now?" asked Amy.

"I'm the one going nuts, and you want to know what that squirrel thinks?"

"Come on, Carl, sweetie, you have to tell somebody. We can't have you flipping out because no one cares."

"She said that Ackerman has changed, again, since this last mission. Now he has gotten totalitarian and mean. She insists he's possessed. She brought the other two wives with her, they're barking up the same tree."

"What other two wives?"

"Oh damn, that's right, you don't know. The Reliance flight, it comes back, and now according to the wives there are two more Ackermans."

"What? Is there anything to it, or just sensationalism out of control."

"Hell, I don't know? I'm a nobody down there now. Mac's got me doing maintenance. How do you think I ended up with the wives?"

"Well, you like women, so cheer up."

"Not those three. Ackerman's wife is totally fed up with the whole thing. Every time her husband goes up in the shuttle, he comes back different. She's ready to take a hammer to the launch pad. Mrs. Walsh is shy, or afraid, I don't know which. I couldn't get much out of her. She rings her hands to signal no, shakes her head for yes. Mrs. Anderson, now she's a peach. She couldn't give a shit if her husband came back as a lizard, just wants to make sure everyone is aware that there might be something wrong, just in case there's something extra in it for her."

Amy snickered. "Sounds like fun to me."

"Well, on the bright side, the peach would probably lay me for a ride in my car."

"Your kind of girl."

"Only before I met you."

"Nice try stud."
Chapter 45

CARL AND WINSTON WERE HITTIN - golf balls at the driving range.

"I never suspected you in the Smithers thing." Winston did his waggle and then swung. "I was staying away, letting you contemplate," he added, the ball flying out into the range.

"Well, contemplate this? Your plane was definitely sabotaged," Carl said, taking a club. "There was a very small C4 charge under the dash, placed to take out the controls. It was a timed charge. It was set to explode at a prescribed time after it was activated by switching on the plane's electrical system." Carl pulled out a ball and addressed it.

Winston was lining up another shot. "I usually only fly the plane to my beach house at Belle Haven." He sent the ball flying. "I took the plane down to Richmond this time."

"I've got Google," Carl said after he had finished his first swing. Carl motioned to Winston and reached into his pocket. They sat down at a bench just behind the range. Carl and Winston looked over the Google map.

"You normally fly to where?" Carl asked.

"Right here." Winston poked his finger on the map. "It's a hundred miles, thirty minutes from take off to touch down." Winston traced the route.

Carl pointed to the map again. "And this time?"

"Just down to Richmond. I was in the air not quite fifteen minutes, another ten to taxi, park and lock up, then boom."

"Look here. If you had made the normal flight the bomb would have detonated about here, out over the middle of Chesapeake Bay. It would have looked like you disappeared, no clues. They wouldn't have any idea where the plane or your body would have gone down."

"Lots of people are getting shoved aside," Winston commented.

"Like who?"

"Somebody called Colonel Wisp?"

"He's just sick."

"He's in a coma, and he won't recover," Winston stated.

"He was an ass, but why do you say that?" Carl asked.

"Palpability, he made a mistake and he was removed."

"He's just sick," Carl repeated.

"There might have been questions if he was killed, or disappeared. So he's laying in a bed, and there are no questions as to why. By the time they confirm he won't ever be getting up, no one will care."

"You're saying he was put there on purpose?" Carl asked.

"He was removed because he was stupid and said the wrong thing. You were there."

"If you know so much," Carl looked at Winston seriously, "why did they almost get you in your plane?"

Winston started laughing. "They didn't even come close!" He quit laughing, "I only take the plane to my beach house, I told you that."

"And you knew there was a bomb in it."

"Not exactly, but I knew enough not to take it to Belle Haven."

"Why take it at all, if you knew something?"

"No fun in that. I'm sure someone was watching me take off and reported the Adam's problem was about to be solved. Now they've got a bigger one. I'm still here, and now they know I'm a force to be reckoned with. And whoever screwed up the hit is running for their life."

"But they will try again so you'd better lay low," Carl advised.

"No they won't because the attempt is now news, and besides, they're not sure what I do know. I just might have something they want."
Chapter 46

ACKERMAN, ANDERSON, AND WALSH - were sitting at a table in the back of a restaurant, Winston Adams walking toward them. Anderson was talking. Ackerman saw Winston coming and put his hand on Anderson's arm to stop him.

"Gentleman," Winston greeted.

"Winston," Ackerman acknowledged him.

"I don't know where to start, but you know why I'm here."

"No, Winston, I don't know why you are here?" Ackerman answered. "We certainly didn't invite you."

"What the hell is this all about?" Anderson looked at Ackerman. "What does he want?" Anderson indicated Winston with a sideways nod, not looking at Adams.

"Winston thinks he knows something, but he's full of shit," Ackerman spouted in a condescending tone.

"The Searching Soul?" Winston questioned.

"Leave us alone, we don't want anything to do with you," Ackerman's tone turned juvenile.

"You certainly do have to deal with me, I was there first, I understand."

Ackerman jumped up. It looked like he was going to attack Winston, but Anderson and Walsh also jumped up and restrained him. Ackerman was red faced, struggling, shouting. "Get the hell out of here, now! Get away from us! You don't know what you are dealing with!"

"I know exactly what I'm dealing with," Winston said calmly. Ackerman's outburst had quieted the entire bar, everyone watching.

"Get him out of here!" Ackerman shouted, still agitated.

"I know what is happen and I am going, you need me," Winston turned and walked away."

Chapter 47

CARL, MAC, ACKERMAN, ANDERSON, WALSH, AND STAN HENDERS - with numerous others were seated at large conference table.

"I know this petition is out of the ordinary, but gentleman, we are presented with a dilemma," Mac started the meeting.

"This dilemma should not be solved by rushing into things," Stan Henders, the next mission controller pleaded with the others. "If something happens, who's going to answer . . . me?" Henders poked his own chest with his thumb. "We just barely ducked the Donald's catastrophe, and to tell you the truth, I can't figure out how?"

"There was nothing to it," Mac said.

"Like hell!" Henders came back, "That's what I'm concerned about, ducking issues because something's going on here? I'm the mission controller on this upcoming flight and I don't like it. We barely had enough time to train the scheduled crew, and now you figure we can get new people ready?"

"That's the point, we are not new," Ackerman argued. "We just came back from the Redoubt Mission. Have you changed any of the programs, any of the systems, or any of the boards we need to deal with?"

"What about the scheduled experiments, the mission parameters," Henders continued his objection. "Those people were trained to accomplish the prescribed mission."

"Hey, it's nobody's fault we had an outbreak of measles, but we have a ship sitting on the pad and we have a mission ready," Mac pointed out. "We have equipment that is fool proof. I think we have a responsibility to make a flight, even if it is to see if monkeys piss regularly in orbit. We need to show that we can operate, regardless of what we come up against. We lost Donald, we went on. Let's continue with that, besides, you all know what the price tag of a delay is?"

***

Carl was passing Mac on his way out.

"That went smooth," Carl said peevishly, heading for the door.

"I was expecting some dissension from you," Mac retorted, "some squawking, something. What happened?"

"The fix is in." Carl shrugged, still walking. "I'm not one to waste my time," he added over his shoulder.

"That is an accusation that I will not accept, especially from one of my subordinates."

Carl stopped and turned. "You have to take some responsibility for the accusation Mac. That meeting was a sham."

"Just because you're seeing ghosts, I've got to stick my neck out?"

"Mac, either you do something, and do it quick, or I will act on my own."

"I thought we were friends?"

"We were Mac, so don't lay this one on me," Carl stood looking straight into Mac's face. "You know something is happening and you do nothing. You are either really dense, or you're part of it. I've known you a long time Mac, and dense is not applicable here."

"I expect your resignation on my desk by the end of the work day!"

"Fine, I can do more on my own anyway."

"I order y—"

"Mac, you're the one that changed the crew assignments right from the beginning. I know that for a fact!" Carl reached for the doorknob and calmly said, "I found the memo."

"It proves nothing!"

"Mac, this is not a court of law. Whether or not there is enough evidence to convict you is irrelevant. I know what you did and to me that means you are very involved in this conspiracy. And it makes no difference what anyone else thinks because I know what is happening. They don't have a clue as to what's going on, but I do, and you are definitely a part of this fraud."

"So are you Carl. You are on the other side, but you are involved too."

"I'm glad you cleared up that up for me Mac. Yes, I know something is happening, and it is big, and it is not going to go away."

"Do you want it to go away?"

"No, it needs to be resolved."

"What a fool you are, resolved? You think this is a misjudgment in our policy or something like that. This is an opportunity to expand our knowledge into the next phase of our development. This is what history is made of. This is the answer we have been looking for since the dawn of human history. This is the big one Carl, and I don't want to be left out."

"I'm glad we got this out of the way. I was afraid you were just going to stone wall, deny everything, or try to play dumb.

"There are two points that should be made clear Carl, right now, for both our benefits. Number one: I never considered, or hoped that you were stupid. It would be terrific right about now, but it isn't going to happen. Most important is number two. It really doesn't make a difference. There is nothing you can do. There is no one to go to with this. No one is going to listen to you Carl. Not until it's too late."

"Thanks for clearing up the other thing for me, Mac."

"What was that?"

"I wasn't sure about your intentions, but now I know."

"I doesn't mean a thing Carl, I already told you."

"Oh yes it does. I wasn't sure what to do, or more important, what needed to be done. Now I know. I'm dealing with fanatics and I have to continue no matter what.

"Let it go Carl, let it go for you own sake."

"You're the one that convinced me how important this is. Do you think, I'm just going to go away, now?"

"I'm ordering—"

"I don't work here anymore, or have you forgotten? But, I'm in for the duration now. Mac, you know me. I'm not letting this go."

"There are people close to you that could get hurt."

Carl walked back to Mac, leaned over to get closer to his face. "You're deep into this thing, aren't you? You would never make a threat as heinous as that, unless you were cornered and scared. This is were we part company partner. From here on out, you and I are on opposite sides."

***

Carl returned to his office and checked his messages. He didn't expect anything, being out of the loop and now out of a job. He thought about cleaning out his office immediately, but didn't have the motivation at the moment. One message was on the machine and he listened. He didn't recognize the name or the voice and the message itself didn't peak any interest. It asked him to call a certain number and to use his cell phone.

***

Carl finally called the number a couple of hours later, not putting too much importance to it. The call instructed him to wait on a certain corner to be advised further. At first he was skeptical and a little cautious, after Wisp, Smithers and Winston. He went to the assigned spot, a busy street corner in the middle of the day and wondered; If someone wanted him out of the way, this wasn't the best way to accomplish it.

***

At the prescribed time, a government sedan pulled up and stopped. A man got out of the passengers side and walked up to Carl. "Mr. Boroughs?" he asked.

"Yes," Carl said, wondering. The guy definitely was government, or wanted to look like it.

"I'm sorry we look so cautious, but it's a request." The man handed Carl a folded sheet of paper and returned to the car, got in and drove away.

Carl read the hand written note inside. Carl stood on the street corner, lightly slapping the note on his leg. He looked at the note again and made his decision.

***

Carl was standing next to his car, waiting, as a small convoy of vehicles drove up to him. The third in the line was a big black limo with the appropriate appointments attached. The limo stopped and the rear door next to him opened. Carl walked over and looked in. Satisfied, he slipped into the back seat.

"Sorry for the clandestine meeting Mr. Boroughs. I hope I didn't bite into your schedule," said the President of the United States.

"Sir?" was all Carl said, mystified, sitting back in the seat.

"I understand that you've been put out to pasture," the President said, indicating for Carl to close the door.

"I guess I'm no longer need."

"I guess you stepped on some toes," the President laughed.

"I wasn't comfortable with some things."

"The Searching Soul issue?" the President asked.

"Excuse me?" Carl said.

"Oh, that's right, you haven't heard that designation yet."

"No Sir, what's it mean?"

"It's the thing, the issue that separated you from your job."

"This is about Donald?"

"Precisely. Again, I'm sorry about the way we had to meet."

"No problem, Sir. Better than the last time, when I had to stand in line to get a drink and another line to shake your hand, but why do you want to talk to me? I'm just one of the grunts? Why are you confiding in me on this issue?"

"It seems that everything is under control, according to the Agency. I've heard that you don't agree? Carl, I have to confide with someone, and you are my choice. I know that we haven't seen eye to eye on some things, but I respect the way you stand by your decisions."

"I don't know Sir, I've been known to put my foot in my mouth, sometimes."

"Good, I'm talking to the right guy. There is a file that is turned over to a new President by the former one. It is called 'For the Presidents Eyes Only'. I can't elaborate on what the file is about, but I can tell you there is something in there that might cover what happened with Donald. What I'm about to show you is absolutely confidential."

"Isn't everyone telling you, it solved itself?"

"They've tried, but I'm a political and I know a whitewash. I'm pretty good at them myself."

"So you're not buying it."

"Carl, Albert Einstein knew that space travel was imminent and he had some concerns. He authored a paper outlining his concerns and recommendations and apparently he was taken seriously because in 1938, the final draft was placed in this special folder. I was enthralled with the implications when I first read it, but it didn't pertain at the time!" The President paused and leaned forward. "Until now!"

"Einstein predicted Donald?"

"Not exactly, but as I said, he was concerned about what could happen once we ventured into space. He wondered if man had a soul, and if he did, he figured that soul would likely be some part of our electromagnetic make-up. His belief's were strictly scientific, based on an electromagnetic field for every living thing. We now know that every living thing 'has' an electromagnetic field. He figured that when an organism dies, that field is quickly dissolved by the greater magnetic field of the planet."

"I've never heard of this before. I had no idea he did any speculating in this area."

"He didn't want to discourage space travel. He felt it was a necessary progression so he stayed out of developmental issues. He was a theorist, not a working scientist. He knew the atomic bomb was possible. He also knew that it was not a good thing, that it would be used to destroy, but he surmised that the technology could be used to benefit us.

"Can you tell me more about what had him so concerned?"

"I can do better than that. I can let you read what he was thinking," the President said, handing Carl a sheet of paper.

"Sir, I thought it was for your eyes only."

"I am at liberty to act as I see fit. This might pertain to our present situation."

Carl started to read.

"Good Lord!" Carl exclaimed after reading for a moment.

"I wouldn't take you to be a praying man, Carl."

"I'm not normally, but I'm praying this isn't true."

"It could make things difficult for you?"

"Difficult, more like impossible!"

Carl read more.

"Oh man, no wonder!" he exclaimed again and put the paper down in his lap. "Do you know what this implies?"

"I'm not as dumb as I look Carl."

"But Mr. President, if this thing has any validity, do you know what it means to the space program?"

"I certainly do."

"I can't go back to the Agency with this."

"Of course not because they're the ones I'm worried about. Tough one huh? I let you read this, but understand Mr. Boroughs." The President leaned forward. "What you just read is between you and I, only. And just in case you were not convinced of your precarious position with the Agency, I would suggest you start looking for a new job."

"New job? Now that I'm the only one privy to this. How about a new planet? What the hell do I do now . . . Sir?"

"Mr. Boroughs, I expect you to look at this situation carefully and do the best you can. And Mr. Boroughs, again, this folder does not exist. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sir! Mr. President, this could be the end of our space program and our biggest future industries."

"I'm counting on you to not let that happen."

"That damn Winston is on the right track, this confirms it."

"Yes, besides being a pain in the ass to the space program, he seems to be in the know."

"I've been in contact with Mr. Adams on a number of things pertaining to this problem and—"

"Then you have confided in Winston Adams concerning this matter?" interrupted the President.

"Yes, Sir, well no, actually he has confided in me. He has some incredible insight on this matter."

"What made you think you could do that?"

"I was just poking around, and like I said, he came to me. Winston's a public figure and he is stirring up a lot of shit. I didn't think he would just go away. It was my job, Sir."

"Oh, chill out Carl. Of course it's within your prerogative. You say that Mr. Adams has some insight on this situation?"

"Mr. Adams is a very interesting individual, with some exceptional abilities, but until I saw this report, I was inclined to think that he might be out in right field."

"And now?"

"This is what he has been trying to explain to me."

"Trying?"

"Yeah, trying, because he said he's not sure what's going on, but it had something to do with dying in space." Carl held the paper up to the President.

"I see, and what would you propose?"

"That he be privy to this report."

"Out of the question, Carl. This is information so sensitive it cannot be released. Winston will just have to believe what you tell him."

"Am I to believe it's okay, if I verbally relay this to Winston?"

"You can discuss the information with anyone you want, but understand it did not come from me, or this office. I don't have to impress upon you the consequences of that mistake."

"How do I make it credible?"

"Carl, it's just a theory, treat it as such."

"But the name Einstein gives it validity."

"But, does it corroborate what Winston thinks?"

"Yeah, it certainly does."

"Well, then, I've heard this Einstein fellow was rather sharp, and someone thinking in the same direction would have to be equally sharp, correct?"

"Your point Mr. President?"

"My point is, Carl, if Winston is as sharp as you say, he will not be interested in the source so much as the content. Let's have him propose this theory as his own, which it is."

"Makes sense."
Chapter 48

CARL AND WINSTON WERE WALKING - along a river, hidden by the trees and other vegetation.

"Winston, what I have to say is just speculation. I can tell you it was the opinion of someone, someone very important, someone that should be taken serious, I can't tell you who, but it may fit with what you're proposing.

"Einstein!"

"Dammit Winston, stop that shit. You don't have to impress me anymore, I believe, I believe."

"Sorry, I was so used to us being adversaries, it's just a natural reaction."

"So now you actually trust me?"

"Carl . . . we need each other."

"Yes, we do Winston. Einstein wondered about a man's soul. He believed a gravitational web holds the Universe together. All matter produces a disruption in that web. He concluded that a living thing had an electromagnetic control system, the nerve impulses that control it's functions. It would have a greater influence on the gravitational web than a non living thing, per mass. The more complex the electromagnetic system, the greater the influence, etc. He wondered about that electromagnetic influence and how it would dissipate when the living organism died and the field quit working. It would certainly be absorbed by the field around it. But what if it was in a weakened field, an organism evolved to operate in the field where it originated, in this case on Earth. Move it into a weaker field, in this case an orbit, then release it. What would happen? Essentially, what is the status of that field immediately after the organism dies?"

"What do you think?"

"Winston, I can tell you it does raise some questions in my mind? I could never come up with something like this on my own, but I'm just smart enough to see the direction this is going. And if it has any validity, the ramifications if it is true?"

"What do you want from me?"

"The truth Winston, just what we agreed on. You know something. Tell me what it is you know and we'll go from there, deal?"

"Why should I trust you?"

"Because there is no one else."

Winston didn't answer immediately, thinking something out. "We are going to be dealing with a religious issue here."

"Revelations!" Carl was miffed. "This is a God thing?"

"No, no, but the people involved are going to make it look that way. It's their best defense. Remember, religion is deep seated in all our cultures and anything that is not entirely understood is simply explained that way.

Carl looked at Winston. "Now you explain!"

Winston took a deep breath. "Do people believe in God, really truly believe? I don't think so. Especially those that align themselves with an established religion. It's the herd mentality as we are very social animals. We are dependent on each other. We can't survive alone, logistically or mentally. So people find it hard to admit if they really don't believe because they are afraid of the group's scorn. We are also dependent upon leadership within our groups. It is imperative that the group has leaders otherwise it would be nothing more than a mob. How do you control the mob? You create fear, or awe. In the case of religion, the fear of eternal damnation, the fear of Hell. Just the possibility that it may exist makes most people tremble and lie to themselves and everybody else. Deny the truth, believe the ones that say follow me, I have spoken to God and He tells me this is the way."

"I still don't understand."

"Einstein was right. He was exactly on the money Carl. I don't fully understand exactly how it works, but I can assure you it is not a God thing. What is happening is not to be feared, it is knowledge. It will allow us to expand our horizons. You still feel that you want to go on?

"Curiosity killed the cat!"

"Can you accept possibly being the cat . . . Little Dink?"

"I've got nowhere else to go."

"Okay, this is what we need to do Carl. It is going to sound insane at first, but it's the only way.
Chapter 49

CARL HAD REQUESTED ANOTHER MEETING \- with the President and they were meeting for the second time, again in the limo.

"Mr. President, you gave me this problem. You just dumped it in my lap and I came through. I may be expendable and I have to accept that, but you have to help us make this happen."

"I'll do what I can, but I will not admit to anything. I can't. I'm sure you can appreciate what it would do to this office?"

"I don't care about your office, that's your problem. My problem is getting Winston on that flight. I don't know what will happen, but he says it's our only hope."

"Tell Winston, he is going to have to blackmail his way onto that flight. It's the only way I can suggest they take him. If he can shake them up enough, they will accept. Anything to keep him quiet.
Chapter 50

"THANK YOU FOR COMING -" The Reverend Robyn O'Connell said with a soft confident voice. He was sitting in his studio and he was just on the air. His television show had not really gotten off the ground, yet, but this broadcast, he was hoping, would elevate his ratings.

***

Mac, & Spencer were in Mac's office, waiting for the show, speculating about what kind of disaster they might witness.

"That idiot Ackerman, I can't believe he got pulled into something so convoluted," Mac growled.

"Yeah, his ego is way beyond controlable," Spencer observed. "Nothing good can come from this Mac," he added.

"Thanks Spence," Mac groused, "I'm worried enough as it is."

***

O'Connell had invited Winston Adams who had a considerable following with his prime time news report and his continued interest in the space shuttle and it's new notoriety. This show was to be entirely about the possible arrival of entities now using the space program to infiltrate Earth. One tabloid had claimed; 'The Devil was making Scotty beam him down'.

Sitting close to Winston's left was Reverend Hollsworth. O'Connell had invited him because he also had a large following. Hollsworth still contended that the Entity that was knocking on the door was good old Lucifer.

Henry Ackerman was sitting on Winston's right, representing The Space Agency who was accused of bringing the problem down. It was not clear what O'Connell was trying to gain or how he planned to do it. It was more than likely just a shot in the dark, but just winging it had worked out more than once.

***

Mac sat chewing his cuticles, watching, waiting for the shoe to drop.

***

"Astronaut Ackerman," O'Connell made sure everyone was keyed to the topic, "you have just returned from the latest shuttle mission. In your opinion, what if anything has happened?"

"We are completing our missions as planned."

"Is there any reason for you going on your 'third straight' mission shortly? Isn't that unusual?"

"We are implementing a new policy."

"For what reason?" Robyn asked.

"That's what I'd like to know?" Hollsworth sprang forward. He had cleaned up somewhat, but still wore the old black clothes.

O'Connell held up his hand, trying to silence Hollsworth. "Isn't this unusual, to go back to back, and then you're going back again, one mission after the next?"

"I told you—"

"It's his plan!" Hollsworth shouted. "Each time he goes, the Devil gets stronger."

"Are you a spiritual Man?" O'Connell asked Ackerman as he held up his hand, again to quiet Hollsworth.

"Yes, I am."

"What type of religious experience do you think these missions give you?"

***

"Oh, oh," Mac said, sitting forward.

***

Ackerman sat thinking out his response. "I get a personnel satisfaction from the peace I feel because I'm much closer to Him up there."

"It's the Dev—" Hollsworth cut in.

"Please!" O'Connell cut him off with. "You'll get your chance." And again sticking his hand in Hollsworth's direction.

"Do you feel the presence of our Lord?" O'Connell hadn't even taken his eyes off Ackerman.

"Yes," Ackerman looked thrilled with the direction the subject was going. "Oh yes, I more than just feel him, up there I am a part of his soul."

***

"Oh no!" Mac shouted, slamming his hand down on the top of his desk. "That stupid, shit for brains!"

"Ouch," Spencer added.

***

"The Lord has a Soul?" O'Connell was on a roll because things were going his way.

"Of course he does. We are made in his image, and we certainly have one," Ackerman said with total conviction.

"When did you discover this?" Winston asked, and O'Connell didn't object.

Hollsworth was interested in his answer also.

"I've always suspected it," Ackerman sounded assured.

"But you sound certain now. When did this happen?" Winston pressed.

"When you're floating high above this world, things can become so clear." Ackerman was elated.

"Did the Donald's mishap have anything to do with your transformation?" Winston whipped the question at Ackerman.

"Transformation?" Ackerman's face showed caution.

"Yes, transformation," Winston prompted, "you said you found the answers up there."

"Yes, I did, up there it became clear to me."

"Because of Donald." Winston stated.

"Oh, y—" Ackerman's gleeful look suddenly went blank. He seemed to shake his head once and looked at Winston, his face changing to a scowl. "It's not Donald, I'm the—"

"The one what?" Winston pounced on Ackerman's wavering.

"See, he's the One," Hollsworth shouted, "he's the One we need to fear."

"Are you saying you represent evil, or do you represent salvation?" O'Connell sprang in.

"I'm not evil!" Ackerman shouted. "You're all putting words in my mouth."

"Then you are on the side of the Lord." Robyn O'Connell pointed at Ackerman, "You have to be one or the other."

"The world is moving into a new chapter, one of peace and tranquillity," Ackerman said.

"And how is this coming about?" O'Connell asked. He was almost giddy.

"Through understanding," Ackerman said proudly, "We've had an event that will make all the difference in all our lives, and Donald's sacrifice will be that difference."

***

"Boy, oh, boy, oh boy!" Carl laughed, also watching the show. "Talk about stepping into it." He was sitting in a lonely bar drinking by himself, the bartender, Bart, watching with him. Bart was a little annoyed that Carl had insisted on watching this garbage, but the twenty Carl had slipped him made the difference.

***

"It was Donald?" O'Connell asked, kind of holding his breath. "He might have died so we could experience the Rapture?" O'Connell added, still expectant of something even more extraordinary than what had come out so far.

"Donald opened the door," Ackerman said calmly.

***

Mac in his office had a stricken look on his face.

***

Carl in the bar had a small smile growing on his.

***

"Are you saying that Donald wasn't an accident?" O'Connell leaped at the chance to skewer the space program.

"I'm saying that Donald was a unique development. I sensed it when we went to get him."

***

Mac jumped out of his chair and kicked it across his office. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, but it would attract attention and that was exactly what he didn't need right now.

Spencer watched him closely.

***

"Is that a yes or a no?" O'Connell asked.

"Everything will become much clearer," Ackerman said sitting back.

"When, when will it become clear?" O'Connell pushed.

Ackerman didn't say anything, and continual prodding by O'Connell didn't budge him. After three tries, O'Connell finally decided to hear from Hollsworth who was steaming from Robyn's snubbing him.

"I have been warning and warning of these events and what have I got for my—"

"You have been denouncing what could be the greatest—" O'Connell interrupted the Reverend.

"I was the first to figure it out!" Hollsworth shouted, jumping to his feet, in turn cutting in on O'Connell, his religious rhetoric now gone as he fought for the acknowledgment. "I was the first, and now that it is really happening, and you can see it, my credibility is being questioned. You want to change the scenario to fit you're version, to take the recognition."

O'Connell didn't respond to Hollsworth, but turned to Winston to get his feed on what had happened.

"It's a new frontier," Winston said quietly, "I wouldn't dispel anything, but I have a solution. I have a way we can all be certain about what's happening on those missions."

O'Connell looked at Winston.

"I'm not sure if you or the public remember," Winston pointed to the camera, "but I was selected as, possibly, the first journalist in space a couple of years back."

"Yes, I do recall that," O'Connell confirmed.

"Well," Winston continued, a sly smile spreading across his face. "I went through the training and passed all the requirements." He paused. "And I see no reason that I shouldn't go as an independent observer on the next mission," Winston said to O'Connell, and then he turned to the camera and said with conviction. "Do you?"

***

Mac looked very concerned, almost pale, as he ushered Spencer out of his office.

***

"That one guy's a little nuts," Bart the bartender said.

"Which one?"

"The astronaut, the one that's talking to God," Bart snickered.

"Why do you say that?"

"He's claiming he's the top rep from outer-space," Bart laughed.

"But they're putting the words in his mouth, didn't you hear him explain that part?"

"Yeah, but he's still believing the shit, regardless."

"He's stupid, but he's not a fraud in that respect."

Bart looked at Carl curiously.

"Forget I said that, it's just the booze talking," Carl said quickly.

"Hey buddy, you've only had two beers."

"I was drunk before I got here."

"Yeah, right, what ever you say."

***

Mac was seen hustling out of the office shortly after.

"I hope he's going to get some rest," Spencer commented, watching Mac head to his car through the office window, "he needs it."

"What happened?" Dennis asked.

"You didn't see O'Connell's show?"

"I don't watch that crap, you know that."

"They lampooned us."

"How?"

"Got that moron Ackerman to admit something was up." Spencer was shaking his head. "Ackerman admitted that the Donald's incident was more than it really was."

"What?" Dennis cried.

"Yeah, Ackerman said the Donald crap was a great religious event."

"Oh boy! Gezz, what's Mac going to do?"

"Get some rest I hope, there's not much else he could do right now."

"No shit!"
Chapter 51

WINSTON ADAMS WAS ON THE AIR -"And that is the news. Now on a personal note. Today, I was a guest on Robyn O'Connell's television broadcast and we were privy to some disturbing new insights into the Donald's mishap. I know TSA is satisfied with the original explanation of his death. They are also satisfied that the irregularities that occurred after his death were due to computer malfunctions and misdiagnosis. Today, one of their own, Major Henry Ackerman alluded to the contrary. But due to my sense of fair play and patriotic duties, I am willing to give the Agency a chance to clear this up. I requested that they invite me to participate in the next flight. As you all know, I have been considered before and am qualified. I want to experience, first hand, the exhilaration of space flight and belay my suspicions about the Donald's fiasco."

Chapter 52

MAC HAD CALLED A MEETING - to discuss what to do about Winston's request. Mac knew he was in trouble, but tried to stay calm. Ackerman, Keaton, Walsh and Anderson were in his office.

"I don't see what else we can do, the SOB invited himself and that's that," Kenny Keaton cried.

"What am I hearing here?" Mac yelled. The meeting was going to be an intense one. "He invites himself, and you aren't going to do anything about it? Who the hell is running this agency for Christ sakes?"

"That's what I'm wondering?" Keaton looked accusingly at Mac. Walsh and Anderson looked his way too, curious to his answer.

"That idiot there," Mac pointed at Ackerman, "sabotaged my effectiveness and you're going to blame me?"

"No one is blaming you," Keaton said, "it's just fact. You've been basically neutralized by circumstances." Keaton looked around "Where do we go from here?"

"I've worked hard for years and now, because of—" Mac was starting to point to Ackerman again, but Keaton cut him off, shouting at Mac. "Get over it! It happened, and we are not here to point fingers. We are here to decide how to proceed. We have a lot invested, and a hell of a lot more to gain, so let's not waste time pissing and moaning."

Keaton did look to Ackerman. "You're a real asshole, by the way."

Thank you!" Mac declared. It was little satisfaction, but it was something.

"Now, we need to figure out what to do with Winston?" Keaton continued.

"Get rid of him, now," Ackerman ordered.

"Yeah, right, Henry." Keaton gave him a nasty look, "I would appreciate if you got off your God-horse and used your head."

"We can do it, and who's going to squawk?" Anderson added.

"Ah, the President of the United States," Keaton answered.

"What are you talking about?" Anderson asked, puzzled.

"Mac?" Keaton gestured to Mac.

"The President called and he's advising that Adams goes." Mac smiled slyly at Ackerman.

"Who the hell gives a damn?" Ackerman said smugly. "Big deal, after this mission, the President will be begging for our attention."

"You are stupid beyond belief," Keaton growled at Ackerman. "You think we're just going to walk into the position of power without objections?" Keaton looked at each individual. "We have to proceed with a certain pace. I for one am concerned about abuse of this power. We need to convince the masses, not slaughter the objectionable."

Keaton looked back to Ackerman. "You know, Mac understood the big picture, maybe better than anyone, and now he's out, thanks to you."

Ackerman just shrugged, a silly little look on his face.

"So Adam's goes, and that's it?" Walsh asked, finally contributing.

"He goes," Keaton said.

"I still don't know why something can't happen to him?" Anderson said.

"You want to take care of that?" Keaton asked Anderson.

"Me, I can't—"

"Yeah, you can't do a thing, and neither can any of us," Keaton said. "And I certainly don't want to go looking for a solution outside this room. The last thing we need is to be owing any chits, or be open for blackmail."

"With all the power we are—" Ackerman started to object.

"Do you have any certainty what this power is going to be, how it is going to change us?"

"No, but—" Ackerman didn't have a solid answer.

"We'll be able to leap tall buildings, maybe?" Keaton laughed, "Maybe see through walls," Keaton looked at Ackerman, "or stop bullets with our bare hands?"

"I don't know, but we'll—"

"We'll what?" Keaton cried. "Until this mission is back down, and we know exactly what your strengths will be, I would advise strongly, we don't step in any shit that might be outside our abilities to counter." Keaton again looked to all the astronauts, and got nods from them all.

Keaton turned to Mac. "So what are your plans?"

"I can't do much," Mac said sadly. "I need to resign."

"What for?" Walsh asked kindly. "Mac, you are the program."

"I can't control my personnel," Mac said, looking at Ackerman. "The Agency needs a new director, someone that can regain the authority in the eyes of everyone."

Keaton shook his head in agreement.

"So, Adams it is?" Keaton said.

"But, we all agree that he's still a problem?" Walsh asked.

"Oh yeah, we can't have good old Winston getting a drift on what's going down." Keaton smiled.

"We can solve the problem on the mission?" Anderson said.

"Yes, that's the best opportunity. We have those experiments to run, and I'm certain we'll have better answers as to what the capabilities of the Searching Souls will be."

"I like the irony of that," Anderson laughed. "Winston coined that name and it will destroy him."

As they were filing out of the office, Keaton and Mac stayed behind.

"It's all set?" Keaton asked.

"Yeah, it's time to move on," Mac responded, shaking Keaton's hand. Keaton patted Mac on the shoulder as he turned to leave.
Chapter 53

MAC MCMILLIAN WAS A WORKAHOLIC - no one under his supervision had any doubt about that. It was common for him to put in well over a hundred hours a week on his various projects. His only distraction was his fancy set of wheels. Mac was not married and had no children, so his car was the substitute for his attentions.

***

It was close to midnight, and Mac's car, a very powerful version of a Porsche, was flying down a country road. The driver was sitting upright, rigid, no seat-belts on. The car was accelerating down the road reaching extreme speeds, it's powerful engine shattering the calm of the tree lined, country lane.

The sports car flashed by, edging to the right of the road toward an abutment of an overhead bridge. The car headed at the solid concrete at one hundred and ninety miles an hour. A horrendous bang, accompanied by a big flash and small, burning, shattered pieces of the car flying in all directions ended the saga.

***

"Even this guys teeth and fingernails are busted up," the Coroner's man said to the trooper as they stood watching the clean up crew.
Chapter 54

CARL AND WINSTON WERE WALKING - through the trees again.

"So it begins, huh?" Carl said to Winston.

"Yeah, I'm on the flight." Winston confirmed.

"It worked, they actually fell for it."

"It wasn't really that difficult. Hell, they would have been disappointed if I hadn't invited myself. They're making plans for something to happen to me up there. They think I'm stupid."

"Geez Winston, did it every occur to you, you might be? They want to snuff you out and you're elated."

"I have the upper hand."

"I'm scared Adams. I didn't think about what I was getting into. Is there anything you can guarantee to make me feel better, seeing you are so enlightened?"

"I know I'm right on this Carl, keep your faith. It is always darkest before the dawn."

"My ass is in the ringer, and you're spouting cliches. I'm probably next on their list so I could use more than flowery words right now, especially if you're wrong."

"If I'm wrong, then we can both kiss our asses good-by. And remember, I'm the one riding the Roman Candle. You will still have your feet on the ground and can run and hide."

"I guess, just as long as they don't find out what we have planned. If they had any idea what we're up too, you wouldn't be going anywhere."

"As long as they don't get the President's file," Winston said.

"No way," Carl laughed. "He still wants to be President so he wants this stopped and now. He doesn't want to be second fiddle to anybody."

"Then I doubt they would consider something so radical. They want to revel in their splendor, reap the benefits of their victory and be around to enjoy the perks. It's their weakness Carl."

"I wish I shared your cavalier attitude. I just feel like I've gotten into something I shouldn't have, and now there is no way out. I feel so alone, so isolated."

"If a person truly contemplates God, the all seeing Entity, he or she would immediately realize some basic concepts. After all, the all seeing Entity does just that, it sees everything. Any Entity in a position as exalted as that, I doubt is going to be interested in bullshit. More to the point, if there is a god, what ever he, she, or it may be, it would be very sophisticated, beyond our comprehension, and I can't see it being interested in the devotion of mortals. It would be impressed with its subjects that are naturally good and just." Winston turned to Carl. "That would be you Carl!"

"Is that supposed to make me feel any better?"

"Yeah, we're on the right track and we will be around to tell the story. The other guys will just have a lot of explaining to do."

"What ever! Well, I guess this is good-by Winston. I do hope we meet again. Boy, I really mean that too. I'd wish you a safe flight, but knowing what I do." Carl reached out and hugged Winston.
Chapter 55

CARL AND AMY WERE WALKING - down a street after dark.

"Talk about clandestine, is the secrecy necessary?" Amy complained.

"I didn't want to just sneak off without explaining, but there's trouble. I have to go.

"I'm sorry it turned out this way, I liked you big guy."

"I'm sorry too. Damn this complicated world. Walking here with you, I realize how important two people that care about each other are compared to the rest of the bullshit. It's my fault, I didn't understand until it was to late . . . or everything was too complicated?"

"No, it is both our faults, Carl. We all know how important things can be to us after we've lost them, but we still throw them away. It is what we do best. Why are we finished Carl? Who did what wrong?

"We didn't do anything wrong my friend, but I have to go. I'm running, and running scared. I can't involve you."

"Is that why Mac took his life?"

"I'm not so sure he did?"

"You can be sure. He drove into a bridge abutment at over one hundred and ninety. I never could understand why anyone needed a car that fast, until now. It gives credibility to died instantly."

"It gives more credibility to beyond recognition," Carl laughed.

Chapter 56

CARL WAS BEING FOLLOWED IN HIS CAR \- He tried to loose the other car in traffic, but it stayed with him. He stepped on the gas, speeding between cars, running lights, etc. He finally lost control and smashed into a store, going through the glass front. Dazed and bleeding he stumbled from his car. He started toward the rear of the store, but flashing lights out front got his attention. A police car screeched to a stop outside. He changed directions and ran toward the police car. Two police officers were getting out when they were hit with intense gunfire. Carl stumbled, trying to change directions to get back inside the store. Two men were walking quickly toward him with assault rifles aimed right at him.

"Go ahead, give me a reason," the first man said. "I'm supposed to deliver you alive, but I don't have to. I can end it here if you give me reason enough."

The second man grabbed Carl by the collar and jerked him back. Another car roared up, the rear door flying open. The second man propelled Carl through the door, sending him sprawling on the back seat. The man climbed in, slammed the door, and the car sped off.

***

Carl was shoved to the rear floor and a gun was held to his head The car drove for close to an hour. There had been some highway travel, he could tell by the speed, but for a few minutes the speed had dropped. Now the car was driving slowly and on gravel. The car stopped and the back door was opened.

"All right, get up," a male voice commanded.

Carl drug himself out, stumbled and fell to the gravel. Two pairs of hands grabbed him under the shoulders and lifted. He was dragged, half walking, half propelled. It's was pitch black out and he had no orientation. He heard a door being opened, and then he was shoved through the door, skidding to the floor. The door slammed shut. There was complete darkness in his prison.

***

Carl had little reference to time and after what he thought might be half a day, someone was opening the door. Carl tried to stand, but he was weak. The door came fully open, light flooding in because it was daytime now. A figure was standing just outside. Carl's eyes were unaccustomed to the light and he rubbed them, trying to clear his vision so he could see the figure more clearly.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Carl stammered, his mouth and throat parched.

The person standing in the door was still just a shadow, the light streaming in from behind. The figure moved forward, and Carl looked up at the person. It took a moment for recognition.

"I didn't want to believe it, but in the back of my mind I guess, I knew," Carl said, pulling himself up against a wall.

"What did you know Carl?"

"That you wouldn't have the guts to take your own life."

"Why did you do it?" Mac asked quizzically, his head tilting to the side.

"That was my question."

"You're a traitor," Mac said matter of factually

"To who or what?" Carl looked up at Mac.

"To us," Mac hesitated. "To the program."

"I'd be interested in hearing your reasoning on that one." Carl tried to find some moisture in his mouth. "Us and the program are two completely different entities. Us, is you and your thugs trying to do your thing, the program is what I was trying to protect."

"There are some powerful forces at work and they need to be understood," Mac said, kneeling down slightly. "We have found the way. We are going to be the people of the Lord, and you will be going someplace else. I feel sorry for you."

"You covet the power, understanding has nothing to do with it," Carl said, turning his head, not wishing to look at Mac anymore.

"You're always so sure. You always think you're right. You really think that way don't you?"

"I try to be objective at all times."

"And that's where you went wrong on this one, Carl my friend."

"You seem to think you've finalized this deal, that you're in control. I have some disturbing news for you Mac."

"We have eliminated the opposition. Now we are the only ones that understand. I would say that indicates we are going to realize success. It's too bad you don't believe, it could be most comforting to you now."

"If this is the end for me, I can accept it. You know that."

"We will see Carl, we will see."

"What about you Mac? What's going to hold you together when the end comes looking you up?"

"My devotion is my savior. The Lord will protect me."

"You might have pissed him off with this latest stunt. You ever consider that?"

"You are a fool Carl, you know that!"

"Why, because I can accept reality? That makes me a fool?"

"You have nowhere to turn and you continue to aggravate us. That's what makes you a fool."

"Now is a good time to make my point. I mean, I couldn't possibly jeopardize myself any more, could I?"

"That's true Carl. You are about as screwed as a person can get."

"So tell me Mac," Carl asked sarcastically, "in your opinion, what do you think this is all about?"

"We have found the gates to Heaven," Mac answered excitedly.

Carl pulled himself up against the wall, then started laughing.

"You laugh?" Mac said scornfully. "We are at the gates of the Kingdom, and you laugh. I will pray for your soul Carl.

"Don't bother." Carl was still laughing softly. "You just don't get it, do you Mac?"

"I have known you a long time Carl and at times I have respected you, but since this Holy occurrence your continued blaspheme is going to mean your end."

"You really think this is a religious thing?"

"It is the opening to the Kingdom, the Kingdom you so ignorantly deny."

"Mac, there's no kingdom. We didn't understand the laws of gravity, that's all.

"We have the proof now, you fool."

"You're the fool Mac. Do you think that if there 'is' a god, he's as unsophisticated as you clowns think."

"I don't have to listen to this! I'll make you pay for talking like that!" Mac had flown into a rage.

"Ah ha, you've just proved my point," Carl said laughing harder.

"How do you figure, dead man?" Mac spit the words out with venom.

"Because a real, true god, a god that would be responsible for all the wonderful things in the Universe, would certainly not want the dedication of a perverted, power monger like you. You're in it for personal gain, not for the kingdom."

"God wants to know that you want to be in his Kingdom. That you accept His wisdom. That you are willing to do His work. Only then can you enter."

"I would be surprised if it works that way. Why something so exalted would be interested in something as unimportant as our dedication, our subservience. Certainly the creator of something as immense as the Universe has more important things to do."

"We are his children, He wants us to be pure."

"You're about as pure as yellow snow, he must be pleased."

"I'm above your sarcasm now. Why don't you ask for mercy? It's your only chance right now."

"I'm not afraid."

"You are a strange dude Carl. You're going to die shortly, and still you stick with this stupidity. Pray Carl, pray for your soul, and everything will be all right. He forgives. Let him in your heart and you will suffer no more.

"If I'm wrong and there is a God, he will look at me and understand. I didn't use anybody, I didn't use his name to get ahead. You are an asshole Mac because you use people and when you're done with them, you get rid of them. That's always been the difference between us. Any kingdom that would accept you, I want nothing to do with."

"You are uninformed Carl, and you will burn in hell for what you've tried to do, and for what you've said." Mac turned and walked out of the cell, slamming the door. Mac spoke to someone outside. "Do what you want with him," Mac said loud enough for Carl to hear."

Chapter 57

THE SPACE SHUTTLE IGNITED ITS ENGINES - From the ground it was mostly the flame, smoke, and noise that was spectacular. The shuttle was a giant machine, encompassing the space plane itself, a monstrous fuel tank, and the adjoining solid rocket boosters strapped to the sides. It rose many stories above the launch pad. Being so immense, watching the lift off didn't give the true sense of the tremendous acceleration the giant contraption achieved.

Winston Adams, strapped flat on his back, facing the heavens, got an entirely different prospective as the massive fuel pumps rammed six hundred gallons of very volatile fuel, each second, into combustion chambers, producing six-million horsepower. He experienced what was really happening as the shuttle roared into the sky, subjecting his body to a constant 5 G's, a strong vibration accompanying the pressing forces. It would soon achieve the speed of seventeen thousand miles per hour.

Winston was relieved, as the space plane gradually diminished the tremendous acceleration and smoothed out. He had been concerned about the anxiety he might feel about the launch, but strangely he had remained calm and content with the whole thing. Now he felt impatient and uncertain about his upcoming duel.

Ackerman, Anderson, and Walsh are my dedicated enemies and they are here, confined with me in this machine, no way out. They're convinced they possess great power and are here to consolidate more. They're also convinced; I'm nothing more than a mouth piece and simply lucky in perceiving their conspiracy.

In that I hold my only advantage. I think I understand this new conduit opened when Donald was killed in the unusual environment of space. I think I understand my advantages in dealing with the coming event. But, am I positive? No I am not. Don't kid youself Winston, you're winging it and you know it.

I'm glad Ackerman was the first to come in contact with the new awareness. Ackerman's personality is so opposite of Donald's, the Entity couldn't unite properly. The new recruits, Anderson and Walsh, can't fully sense what they have fallen into. It's a thrill for them, a game so far, and they're convinced nothing can stand in their way, so they are cocky.

I have possessed this gift since birth and taken it seriously. I have puzzled over its uniqueness for years, wondering how it all worked. It wasn't until Donald was killed that I had a real clue. Donald was killed in alien conditions and his soul; his electromagnetic field, due to the weakened conditions of orbit had enough strength to identify itself. In the weakened gravitational field it had broken loose and once aware it could grow. The Entity can now override other fields, but only in the environment it had first experienced freedom. This is what I'm counting on.

"Well Winston, you got your wish, anything to say?" Bill Shell, the mission pilot asked. Shell and copilot Tim Burns were not privy to the intrigue, but resented Winston for pushing his way onto the flight. Winston had gotten out of his seat down below and had floated up behind Shell.

"One hell of a ride," Winston said nonchalantly. "I drove a double A dragster for a while and the G's are about the same, but the car ride is over a lot quicker.

"Do I hear a thank you?" Shell asked.

"Oh, of course, you guys do a great job, I've never denied that," Winston said, looking out the front window. The shuttle was still flying slightly nose up, so all Winston could see was the blackness of space.

"Pretty bleak out there," Winston commented, moving over to the side window. From there he could see a little of the Earth's far horizon. "You can actually see the atmosphere," Winston said, then added. "It doesn't look very thick from up here."

"From up here you can summarize how fragile it is. Sometimes you can get that funny feeling in your stomach when you think about how careless we can be," copilot Burns said.

Winston had not spoken to the three plotters. They had launched together, seated in the lower compartment, but when they had attained orbit and were free to leave their seats, Winston had wandered off. He was waiting for the shuttle to roll, tipping its back over toward the planet below. Winston was excited about seeing the Earth from this new vantage point.

Winston was quiet and unobtrusive, as the crew went about their business. He had no duties to perform and spent his time watching the Earth rotate far below and trying to get signals from the three infected astronauts. The interference in the field had not increased, or diminished, and nothing new had surfaced. This is what had alerted Winston in the first place. When Donald had died, there was a sudden faint disruption in the web Winston got his intuitiveness from. He felt the disorganization and didn't know what had happened, but he had never felt this peculiarity before. Most strangely was the fact that all his life, the signals had come at him from horizontal. Suddenly he had gotten this strange feeling from up above. It took only a second of intense concentration for him to zero in on the death of the astronaut.

As soon as he met Ackerman the disruption was so intense it was best described as horrendous static. It was still the problem for Winston. He was looking for definite information from the three, but it was still intense, scrambled, unreadable data. Winston realized he had to think code breaker. He had to sort the static, make sense of it, and he had to do it fast. The three had sensed his presence circling their unique fields and they were trying to shut him out.

At first, Winston figured the three would try to combine with the two additional astronauts to increase their numbers. The first real breakthrough was the realization that Ackerman, Anderson, and Walsh didn't want any additional souls. They wanted it for themselves and were up there trying to understand and consolidate. On the third day in orbit, Winston was becoming frustrated. He had gained nothing, and their field was beginning to consolidate, becoming steadier, and he worried they were successfully screening him out. As solutions to problems often are; the answer was so indiscernible Winston over looked it, at first. As the three astronaut's field steadied and condensed there came an ever so faint, but precise ripple on day four. The ripple took on the form of a defined signal, something to focus on. He realized that the three independent signals had been confusing him and not giving him a direct route.

Winston had been giving the them their space, feinting interest, letting them think he had no idea what they possessed. For another day, Winston stayed away, letting himself into the ripple ever so slightly. On day six, with only hours until the reentry, Winston pounced.

Ackerman, the unsteadiest of the three, was in the engineering compartment. Winston approached him, making sure Henry saw him coming. Henry had seen Winston many, many times during the mission, the closeness of the shuttle saw to that, but Winston always gave the impression of disinterest, and Henry had acted the same. Winston gave Henry no doubt he was serious about something this time.

"What do you want?" Ackerman snarled.

Winston didn't say anything, just looked intensely at Henry.

"What the hell do you want?" Ackerman spoke each word decisively, and there it was, the opening Winston was looking for. The panic Henry felt, at that moment, tore at his confidence in his new field and as it wavered, Winston lauched his gift to focus on Henry's subconscious thoughts, and he quickly untited with Henry's psyche.

Ackerman shuddered as Winston smiled and turned away.

Ackerman hurried to get close to the others, but they had no idea what Winston had done, even though Henry insisted Winston had accomplished something. Henry had been recognized as the weak link from the start, and that was why Kenny Keaton had insisted on this mission to unify. As Anderson and Walsh struggled with Ackerman's field, trying to calm it, trying to bring it back into the fold, Winston sat back and picked its workings apart. He had not known how the three planned to eliminate him before, but there it was. The Entity needed the reentry, the severe disruption of the field from the intense heat and the ion buildup to snatch souls. When the shuttle came ripping into the atmosphere in less than an hour the three would take Winston, making him one with them.

***

The shuttle dropped out of orbit, heading down to reenter the Earth's atmosphere. As the shuttle entered the first of the thin atmosphere it began to glow and vibrate. The Mission Controller, Gill Henders, was talking to the pilot, Shell.

"Roger Reunion," Henders said, "I copy blackout in five, four, three . . . Do you copy Reunion . . . Reunion?"

"That's it people, they're out of touch for a while," Gill said, taking off his headset, leaning back in his chair.

In the lower compartment of the shuttle, Winston and the three were seated in a row, Winston on the far left, the three others to his right. The shuttle began to vibrate, the intense shuddering building rapidly. Ghostly apparitions moved out of the three suited astronauts, Ackerman, Anderson, and Walsh and combined. The new apparition moved toward Winston in his suit and entered. Winston, inside the suit struggled momentarily and then relaxed. An apparition rose out of Winston's suit, moved through the top bulkhead and into the control cabin. It moved over the two astronauts at the controls and divided, entering the two pilots. The pilot on the left reached out and pushed a couple of icons, then grabbed the control stick at his left hand and twisted. The shuttle began to roll immediately. The shuttle was now hurtling through the upper atmosphere, the heat shields becoming ineffective. The interior of the shuttle was engulfed in a blow torch.

***

In the mission control room, Gill Henders was trying to raise Reunion.

"Come in Reunion," he called into his mike, "come in please!"

"Riley, we should have them back, correct?" Henders turned to look at one of the mission specialists.

"Yes," the man responded, "they should have been back on the boards twenty-seconds ago. All the boards are dead, we are getting nothing."

Henders voice continued calling from Mission Control, for Reunion. "Come in Reunion . . . Reunion come in, please."

***

One of the chase planes sent up to escort Reunion to the landing strip was stationed at sixty-thousand feet and orbiting, waiting for the shuttle to come streaking out of the sky above.

To the front, high above the plane, many streaks of smoke suddenly materialize, heading down. The plane continued, the smoke trails moving lower and closer.

"I can see debris Houston!" the pilot shouted. "A large amount of smoking fragments raining down in projected flight path."

"Say again chase," Henders's voice sounded strained.

"Smoking debris!" the excited pilot returned. "They're from projected flight path. Shuttle is apparently destroyed. Do you copy Houston?"

"We copy chase," Henders said sadly. "No boards up here either. Vehicle and crew apparently lost on reentry." Henders calmly took of his head set, set it on the counsel in front of him. He stood up and arched his back as he sighed deeply.

***

The chase aircraft made a roll and turn, now flying parallel to the falling debris. A barely discernible object; it looked like a ripple in the color of the sky, detached from one of the falling pieces and headed toward the plane. The apparition entered the plane as it flew on, the pilot unaware of what had happened.

Chapter 58

IN A HOSPITAL ROOM - a man was laying in a bed with a near death pallor. The man was struggling to breath, the end of his life close. The same apparition that entered the fighter plane now materialized in the room hovering over the dying man for a moment, then entering the man. The man's breathing stabilized and he sat up, got off the bed, went to the closet, dressed, and walked out the door.

***

Carl had been in his cell for many days, but he wasn't exactly sure how many as there were no breaks from night or day because the door was tightly sealed not letting any light in. There had been only a dozen breaks in the monotony, when the door opened, always at night, and someone threw in a bottle of water and a sandwich wrapped in greasy paper. As quick as the door opened, it slammed shut again. No words were ever spoken.

***

The door opened again, but this time it was a little light outside. The door stayed open, and Carl sensing the light, looked up slowly. Carl expected the door to shut again and didn't try to get up. There in the dim light was the man from the hospital standing in the door. An unseen force seemed to pull at Carl, pulling him up, a bewildered look on his face. The man held out his hand to Carl and Carl stumbled toward him.

"Hey Dinky," the man said.

Carl put out his hand, and the man took it, pulling Carl close, embracing Carl, giving him support.

"Dinky," Carl stammered. "Do you know Winston?"

"Do I know Winston!" the man expounded, helping Carl out the door. It was evening, the sun had already set. Carl stood up straight, a little shaky, taking a breath. "Smells good out here."

Carl turned to the man and looked at him, studying him. The man was young, maybe thirty, thirty-five. He was solid built and handsome, a dark complexion, brown hair and eyes. The man gave Carl a smile and a thumbs up.

"Do you know who I am, Dinky?" the man asked.

Carl stood perplexed for a moment, then a small grin started to cross his face. "You came for me Winston," Carl caught a sob. "I guess you were right!"

Carl and the man embraced, again.

"I'm kinda sad about not looking like Winston Adams anymore," the man said, patting Carl's shoulder. "I liked that guy and would have been proud to continue as him, but some sacrifices are necessary."

Carl looked at the man for a moment. "Sounds like you'll miss the righteousness."

The man started laughing.

Carl added, "Just think about the I told you so, 'Winston Adams was right, and you weren't.' Think about that and he'll still be with us." Carl started laughing too.

"Damn Carl." The man looked at Carl and smiled. "I do think you've spelled it out perfectly. Thank you. I feel much better now. All I have to do is say, 'You know, that damn Winston Adams was right all along', and I'll feel happy."

***

Carl and the man were walking as the stars were coming out.

"This is the first step I told you about, the discovery, the proof of the fabric that encompasses the Universe and makes it work the way it does."

"What's the next step?" Carl asked.

"You and I know the fabric exists and can be understood. The true nature and how to utilize it will take some hard work. Now that we know the fabric can be manipulated it is a matter of reverse engineering and it will be possible to build machines to apply the discovery. But it will take time and a great deal of support."

"That shouldn't be a problem."

"Think again Carl. There is a great deal of power and money that can be generated from this, but will it go to understanding the event, or go to covering the real reason it happened?"

"Is this intuition or one of your unfair advantage scenarios?"

"A little of both. My intuition because I am an avid student of human nature. My advantage because I can literally see ahead 'sometimes'. It's going to take some time because we need to start with small simple machines and work up. But the first great hurdle is to establish this as scientific, not spiritual. Many people are going to try to benefit from what has happened here by confusing the issue. It is in their best interest to keep the cause secret and exaggerate the supernatural appearance of this."

"I see what you're getting at, but we have the proof it is a scientific discovery, not the second coming."

"We do?" the man laughed. "Where is the proof? Who are you talking to right now?" the man asked Carl. "Can I proclaim, 'I am Winston Adams'?" the man shrugged with a questioning gesture. "I don't think so." He pointed at Carl. "Can you then proclaim, 'But I know it's Winston, trust me'. Again, impossible. You're the only one that can come forward, the only one that knows I didn't completely burn up in that space ship. Winston Adams is dead to everyone but you."

"How am I going to convince anyone?" Carl sounded doubtful.

"I don't know," confessed the man. "We have to work it out and we have to be careful. We don't want this to look like the second coming."

"I can see your concern, but on the bright side, this was what you were after, you knew it all along?"

"I had no idea until Donald. Until then, it was just something I was born with and accepted. Before Donald, I just had an inclination of what it might be, but no way to do more than just wonder. When he died out there he became the first detached force and the disruption he caused came at the right time for me. I was looking and I associated the disturbance in the field with him."

"Why?"

"I had never felt a disturbance like it before, and Donald's death was unique. It's as simple as that. Many people, besides me, can tune into the fabric, to work it, to know things. There are many individuals, now, that can feel the disturbance and are wondering what it's about."

"Do they know what's happening, why they have this ability?"

"Not yet, I don't think, but they are the ones we need to get working together, first, to confirm the existence of the discovery. They will be the easiest to convince that the discovery is real. Then the easiest to persuade to design and construct the first programs and machines. The scientific community is going to be difficult to crack. The preponderance that we're about to unload on them will meet with many skeptics, and even more, downright jealousy.

"Yeah, this will certainly ruffle some feathers," Carl concurred, then he paused, thinking of something. "How come you didn't just get together with Ackerman?"

"Ackerman was the wrong person. He was selfish, self motivated. He was very religious, saw the whole thing as the gates to Heaven. He actually thought of himself as the first angel. Too many people have suffered because discoveries has been used wrongly. I don't want to see it happen here, not this time."

"How did you get so righteous, so concerned?"

"You sound skeptical? You're very perceptive Carl, that's what I like about you. You think like I do. But to ease your concerns, yes Carl, I'm doing all this for myself.

"You planned all this very well Winston, what's in it for you?"

"Looks good on paper, doesn't it? I want this discovery to be worked out as fast as possible. It opens up unbelievable possibilities for the future. The possibility to travel through the Universe!" There was real excitement in the man's voice. "I want to go out there Carl!"

Chapter 59

Carl and Amy were walking hand in hand.

"Most of the danger's past, but the confusion is just starting," Carl said with a curiously happy tone. "Can you handle a little uncertainty?"

"Carl, sweetie, there is no such thing as just a little befuddlement around you."

"Glad to have me back huh?"

"As glad as you are to be standing here."

"Wow, that much huh?"

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