“Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Astro Forum Session Five. This is going to be a short one, people, so let’s get started. First up this afternoon we have someone you’ve all heard of; well, most of you, in relation to the site research programs. May I introduce Martin Trask. You know him from the previous sessions, but we do have a few new faces here this afternoon. He is our Poster-Child for the exploration of the new frontier, so to speak. We are dealing in a classified area, so be careful with your questions. Some of us are not cleared by security.
We want to keep this as a forum. I’ll be moderating only as it becomes necessary. Please know that some of this is quite a surprise, even to Martin, I’m afraid. So please keep your questions on a need to know basis and do your best to be sensitive. If you don’t know what that means, I’ll try to referee when it becomes necessary.”
Martin simply smiled nodded and took a seat at the head of the table. The conference room held about thirty people; most at the table and the remainder seated along each wall. The research facility had a reputation for its casual environment. The few suits and ties were from out of town; the resident staff wore sport shirts, and even a few tee shirts and sweatshirts. There were several women in the group; neat but low-key dressers. At the far end of the table Martin caught sight of a sheer blouse with long puffy sleeves.
ANGL; Yes but her blouse is mauve and the one in New York was beige.
Martin; It is strange, don’t you agree.
ANGL; Of course.
Martin; I can’t see her face.
ANGL; What for?
Martin; Okay, okay.
“Questions? Yes, Dr Fralley.”
“Martin. I can’t tell you how excited I am at this moment. Thank you for allowing us this opportunity.
We understand that when you arrived you were unconscious for several weeks. When did you realize what had transpired?”
“Uhh; ten minutes ago. I guess.”
“I don’t understand, Martin.”
“I’m sorry. When I awoke in the Lab in Boise, I thought it was life as usual. I don’t quite know what you are referring to. I wasn’t aware that I was ‘return parcel #1’. I only found out ten . . .”
Bill intervened “I’m sorry Martin. I’m afraid there is a bit of a disconnect. I didn’t realize that you were finding that out from me. I thought that it had just slipped you mind.”
“That’s okay. I’m quite used to living in a cacophony of facts and fantasies. I think I can go on with this line of inquiry.
They told me that I was recovering from a bump on the head. I had forgotten a few things, but I thought I was up to date with the detail; what I now recall seemed to fit, but I guess I’m still short a few bricks. The decision to send me on mission 2 was made before the implants. Chronologies escape me at times. I have had numerous moments of de ja vu. In many cases, I was able to resolve them. Some were frightening, and I hope you will bear with me. I may need to guard some of my answers.”
“Yes we understand. Do you know where you’re from?”
“Do you mean my address?”
“No. I mean prior to your arriving at the RG lab unconscious.”
Martin thought for a second. “No, as far as I know I am from here. Where I was in the interim will be news to me. Dr. Grant had my history and I’m not aware of any inconsistencies.”
“No. There don’t seem to be any in that respect. But you understand our confusion. We don’t know if our experiment is a failure or a success. You were wearing an environmental suit that we knew nothing about. It was covered with sandstone dust.
Let me read from the interview transcript?”
Bill intercepted “Is that declassified?”
Dr. Fralley paged through his data package. “I don’t see anything to the contrary. There doesn’t . . .”
“I’m just being careful. Go ahead Dr.”
“Says here that you were bruised but not broken; I presume that referred to your bones. From the bruising, and the damage to your suit, they determined that you had slid on your side for some distance and had fallen into the top of a tree. You . .”
“How would they know that?” came a question from the far end of the room.
The Dr. indulged the anonymous questioner “The leaves jammed in his visor were fresh and attached to a freshly broken sprig or branch. The variety of tree doesn’t usually have leaves below about 6 feet from the ground. Grazers keep them well pruned to that height. The tree is related to a common variety in the Savannahs of Africa.
Let me continue? The back side of the suit was covered with copious amounts of spores, particulate, and a clump of moss that is common in marshy areas. You probably landed on your backside in a bed of moss.”
Martin; Isn’t that special? I do most of my best work on my butt.
ANGL; Now, now.
“You must have laid in the marsh long enough to have water seep into the left leg of the suit. Analysis of the water didn’t reveal anything unusual.
However, when you awoke you identified yourself as Lieutenant Brack Hagger, service number 217783. There wasn’t anything in your personal possessions to support this. The service number was tracked to a Private First Class Brandon Shandler who was missing in action, during the First World War. I think we have to set that whole military thing aside for now.
The report goes onto to say that you encountered a local native, but were unable to engage him in any useful exchange.
The only other piece of information of significance is that you managed to lose one glove and one sunglass lens; probably in the fall.
Does any of this ring a bell?”
Martin shook his head slowly “I’m really sorry. This is all news to me. I thought the injury was work related. I actually have no recollection of the interview. I hope they’re not going to bill me for the glove and glasses.”
The room erupted in laughter and the doctor leaned back in his chair in resignation. When the mood in the room leveled he regained his posture and continued.
“At first they thought the sand dust matched the Morrison formations in the Front Range of Colorado Rockies. Since then they have found a better match in South Eastern Africa. Tanzania or Nairobi; I don’t remember exactly which; near the town of Rutana, wherever that is. Unfortunately they weren’t able to date the dust or the biomaterials for some reason.
The thing that is confusing is that you weren’t even part of the Translation Prep Team, though you were assigned to the Trans Lab at the time. We don’t need our sand back, but it would sure be nice to know more about your trip.”
Martin again shook his head “I’m sorry I can’t help you there.”
“Yes, I’m sure you can’t. Thank you, Martin.”
“Martin, my name is Frank Edwards. I’m new here today, but you may remember me from Boise. I just wanted to ask about some details that may be of no consequence but you never know. Dr. Grant mentioned that in his conversation with you just prior to the implant that the last thing you remember was walking through the outer courtyard, south of the building. But the TPT crew that you were working with at the time said you were in the chamber doing some final checks. Can you shed any light on that inconsistency?”
ANGL: Be careful answering. The time element may be a complication for you.
Chas: Thanks, buddy.
Martin checked out the baseboard with the most thoughtful look that he could muster. That is how he handled most tough moments. “There are several things that are unclear to me. That is one. I may have been on my way to the chamber at the time and my memory dropped that recollection. Sorry I can’t help.”
“One more item; the clothing you were wearing that day, you told Dr. Grant that you didn’t remember ever owning the items he described. Have you recalled those items since?”
“Actually I do remember that part of a conversation. I don’t remember owning such things. Teal, my wife, had trained me to avoid
pink and gray print; print in general and ‘get rid of the pocket liner’. Oops, sorry.” A quick scan of the room revealed several people looking down at their pocket protectors.
“Hmm; that is odd; not your fashion choice, just the inconsistency. Thank you Martin.”
The questioning went on for another hour and forty minutes. They had reevaluated the software and the hardware. They weren’t able to determine why those and several other points remained unanswered.
Martin had been able to answer most of the questions honestly and without hesitation. If they had doubted any of his answers, they hadn’t let on.
At that point, things got pretty dicey.
ANGL: Alert! The man at the far left. He is in deception. The handset he has is transmitting dual signals. One is a timing signal of some sort. The second signal is a Random Frequency Cipher Carrier. Without a copy of his synthetic crystal there is no way to lock in quickly enough to record or decipher. In addition, he has sent out an acquisition signal to GPS or targeting signal of some sort. That signal has been jammed and redefined to the point of origin.
Martin: What’s going on?
At that moment, the man lurched to his feet; pitching the three hundred pound conference table six inches. His chair tumbled back to the wall; he stiffened up and fell back against the rebounding chair. The room erupted into turmoil as several people jumped to his aid.
“He’s got no heart beat. Get the nurse quick?”
ANGL: Look at the ceiling? Do you smell it?
Martin: Smell the ceiling?
ANGL: No, the burned hair and shampoo residue.
Martin: Okay. And I see the ceiling above him. There’s a tiny whisp of smoke up against it.
ANGL: He has been struck with a high power laser. It probably toasted his heart in a microsecond.
Martin: What’s going on?
ANGL: Keep silent. That laser was intended for you. By redefining the acquisition signal the laser targeted the point of origin. That man was new at this meeting. They must still be hunting for you.
Martin: Great. Do any of the rest know?
ANGL: At this level of agitation it’s difficult to make an accurate assessment but I think you’re safe for the present. He probably came from the UN in Baghdad.
Martin: If these people don’t know, then I’m still relatively safe. The software code in ANGL had a program bug in it, totally in Martin’s favor. The bug disabled the standard security locator beacon. ANGL’s assessment was that it might become functional at the time of translation. Its purpose was to allow them to monitor Martins return.
Martin’s eyes traveled to the far end of the conference room, in search of some puffy sleeves. But the sleeves had already left with their owner, and the others.
The dead man would inevitably be missed by the UNIS soon, but Martin felt safe for the immediate time. His overall anonymity was growing thin.
He headed back to Bill’s office, where Bill sat quietly for a minute looking at the ceiling the same way Martin looked at baseboards. Then “Why are they after you?”
Oh-oh, how did he find out? “What do you mean?”
“That guy didn’t die of a heart attack. I know who he is. I overheard him talking to his agency. He’s a private contractor working for the UNIS and their major mandate is tracking security risks and fugitives. Our records don’t indicate that you’re a security risk, but I think he was after you. What’s the deal?”
ANGL: I don’t get any negative readings on Bill. You need to know if he can be trusted. Ask him a question that you think he will answer with a lie. Baseline reference points are needed. See the erased tattoo on his wrist. It looks like a crucifix. Ask him if he has ever considered himself a Christian.
Martin thought for a long moment. If I blow my cover to someone I can’t trust I’m in big trouble. Maybe this ruse will work. I do know that in the long run my hope of keeping this secret is going to depend on having a friend that I can trust with my life. “Bill, have you ever considered yourself to be a Christian?”
Bill’s head jerked away from his gaze out his window. He looked a bit stunned. The tables were turned; he sensed the importance of his next answer.
ANGL: He is considering lying.
Bill walked to the office door and slowly shut it. He returned to his desk and reached for a small post-it pad. “No, my mother was but it never stuck with me.”
ANGL: He’s lying. . . but hear him out.
He lifted up the first page and wrote something on the second page, then laid the top page back in place and finished writing something on that page too. He carefully lifted both pages and separated them from the pack. “Martin, do you like fishing?”
Not in the least. Martin’s mouth opened and out came “Oh yeah; with a passion! Are there any good spots around here?”
“Yeah, I know a few. You’ve got a day or so before you leave. Would you be interested tomorrow? It’s Saturday and I have this weekend off.”
“Sounds good; will I need a license?”
“I’ll take care of the gear and license. You just show up at my house around 7am. We’ll get a bite to eat, and be off for the hills. Dress warm, ‘cause some of these mountain gullies stay pretty cool.” He handed Martin the sticky notes.
“Great. See you in the AM.”
Martin; How am I doing?
ANGL; Ok. Wait until you’re outside before you look at the notes.
Martin walked across the complex as far from any building as he could conveniently get. He looked at the top page. There was Bill’s name address and cell number. He lifted the first page and in the middle of the second page was the traditional Christian representation of a fish; and ichthys, historically the symbol for Jesus Christ Son of God. His answer could not have been clearer. He had lied to protect himself. His office may have been under audio and video surveillance; a standard procedure especially in government funded areas. The same was probably true for their homes. Bill had cleverly sidestepped that possibility with the fishing outing.
Martin had to get some sleep; this day had been one of the toughest he’d had.
* * * * *
Chapter 21 – Gone Fishin’
We still do not know one thousandth of one percent of what nature has revealed to us.
Albert Einstein