Hidden Truths

A UFO Story

by Cindy ©2003

Authors Note: This story is a work of Fiction. Any resemblance to any person, organization or alien, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Characters and content from Gerry Anderson’s 1970 TV show U.F.O. have been borrowed without permission and no copyright infringement is intended. I am making no profit from this story, it is purely an expression of my love/obsession for the ideas put forward in this wonderful show.

All characters not borrowed dirctly from UFO are my creations. They and this story are copyrighted by me so please do not redistribute them without my permission.

Feedback and comments are welcome. Please feel free to contact me.

He woke slowly, at first aware only of sensations – pain in his head and chest, something sharp digging into his side and hip in several places, a cold breeze tickling his skin, icy cold fingers covering his mouth to smother a groan. He shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position. The fingers pressed harder, emphasizing a need for silence.

He shivered, cold and getting colder. He felt an only slightly less cold body snuggle against him and instinctively wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her close and realized that neither of them was wearing anything.

He heard a crunching sound nearby, a sound of footsteps. They paused and the girl pressed her hand even harder against his mouth. He struggled to open his eyes, and was rewarded with a sharp pain as a bright light stabbed through his head. He winced in pain, closing his eyes again, and would have whimpered aloud had those fingers not been pressing his lips closed.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the footsteps moved on, fading slowly into the distance. The girl eased her grip on his mouth and seemed almost to slump against him.

She was shivering, too, he felt, so he held her close, hoping to share body heat and warm both of them. He tried opening his eyes again, this time squinting and turning his head slightly to one side. The light was still there, but not stabbing directly into his eyes. He still couldn’t see, though, so closed his eyes again. Everything was blurry and indistinct and he wondered how much of it was due to the pain in his head.

He relaxed as much as he could, shifting position one more time just to get away from the sharp what-evers. He was feeling a little warmer with her held so close, and rubbed his hands briskly up and down her back.

One hand slipped into her hair. It felt odd – stringy, somewhat stiff, a little sticky – and he moved his hand back down to her back. Her skin was soft, but cold, and she still shivered against him.

He tried to remember what had happened, who this girl was, who he was, but nothing was clear. There were vague impressions of blurry faces, blotches of color … but nothing he could define, nothing that made any sense to him.

She pulled back a little, pulling lightly at him as though she wanted him to get up. He sighed softly and started to do as she wanted. A sweet, musky odor overwhelmed him and he roughly pulled the girl back, rolling over on top of her, pinning her to the ground.

His intellect deserted him, baser primal instincts taking over completely.

Sometime later -- he didn’t know how much time had passed – he woke again, the girl still pinned beneath him, her breathing labored. A hazy memory of what he’d done flashed through his mind and he slid off her, whispering profuse apologies. He lay there, his arms around her, panting, warmer from his exertions and wondering what had come over him.

He felt her turn onto her side, curling up tightly with her arms across her stomach, but noted that she didn’t move away. He hoped it wasn’t because she couldn’t move, hoped she recognized that he’d not been in control when he’d…

He turned to her, curling close around her, holding her gently, lightly stroking her back and sides. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “I don’t know why I did that. I … I couldn’t control …”

His whisper trailed off and he just held her, listening to her sniffle and sob silently for a few minutes. He cuddled closer, wanting to reassure her and wondering if he was succeeding or if he was just scaring her.

Finally, she slowly turned to face him, wiping her face with one hand. His vision had been steadily improving since he woke this time, and he’d been studying what he could easily see of her body. She was, as he’d noted before, naked.

Her skin was pale, creamy, lovely to look at. He slipped a hand slowly down her side, feeling the softness, the smoothness marred only by the goose bumps from the cold. As she turned and straightened, he absently took note of the thatch of dark, curly hair between her legs, the flat creamy abdomen with a long fresh scar at one side, and her narrow waist. The cold had her nipples standing erect, inviting his touch.

Impulsively, he leaned over her, kissing first one nipple, then the other. The same sweet, musky aroma wafted up from her skin and filled his nostrils. He took one nipple between his teeth, nibbling gently, and heard her gasp.

She began to struggle, placing her hands on his shoulders and trying to push him away. He grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms to the ground by her head. Once again, he found himself on top of her, forcing her legs apart. He drove into her, again and again, knowing what he was doing was wrong, but unable to stop.

She continued to struggle for a moment, but then began responding to him, raising her hips to meet his thrusts. Both of them were panting hard, slamming their bodies together almost in desperation, as though they couldn’t get enough of each other. He gently nibbled her breasts, licked sweat from the space between them, and then moved upward. He kissed the hollow at the base of her throat, her shoulder, the side of her neck where the pale green skin faded to cream…

He blinked, raised his upper body as far as he could and stared down into eyes he couldn’t read because of the shields still in place. The green was fading, as he knew it would as time passed, but it was obvious that she’d been inside an alien spacesuit, breathing that liquid they breathed.

She slipped her hands free and put her arms around him, pulling him close again. Her fingernails dug into his back as they climaxed together. She made a small, almost inaudible sound deep in her throat, and then they collapsed together. He lay still for a moment, then slowly slid off to one side, holding her tightly in his arms. She turned to face him and tentatively put her arms around him.

Exhausted, they fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

Later, he woke, his muscles stiff and painful. He knew there was something he needed to do, but he couldn’t think what. He was relatively warm, especially where his body lay against hers, and for the moment at least, he could think of no reason to move.

He remembered leaving the studio after a long day. He’d been driving down a quiet country lane when the UFO had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. It had fired at him, narrowly missing his car several times. He’d lost control of the car and … He thought there was a tree involved, but he wasn’t sure. He had a clear memory of the steering wheel flying toward him – or him toward it - but that was the only detail that was clear.

There were vague memories of aliens, of being dragged across a field, of a strange white room where a girl – this girl – lay waiting, strapped tightly to the floor. Even more vague were the memories of what came after that, although he remembered the fragrance – sweet, musky, overpowering… and vaguely familiar. There was a nagging memory of cold, but … well, at the moment, none of it really mattered.

He was drifting off to sleep again when he realized the girl had moved. She was no longer lying next to him. In fact, she was shaking him, trying to get him to wake up. He pushed her hands away and rolled over, wanting only to sleep.

A sharp pain in his head brought him back and up to a sitting position. He blinked at the girl as she moved her hand away from the place where his forehead had met the steering wheel. She jerked back away from him, and then stood, holding out a hand toward him. With a sigh, he slowly got to his feet and took her offered hand, pulling her closer.

She pushed him away, although she didn’t let go of his hand. He realized why she wanted some distance between them a moment later as he caught a whiff of that sweet, musky fragrance. He blinked at her, shook his head to clear it and nodded his understanding. She nodded back, then looked around, obviously trying to decide which way to go.

He looked around, too, for a moment, not really seeing the snow-covered landscape around them. He wondered why it made any difference which way they went. Why should they move at all? They’d been cozy here ...

“No!” he said, a little more strongly than he’d intended. He gripped her hand a little tighter, talking to her even though he couldn’t tell whether she understood him. “You’re right. We have to keep moving. The difficulty is that I haven’t a clue where we are, so I don’t know which way we should go. I don’t know where the UFO is, either, but I know we shouldn’t go in that direction. So, since I don’t know which direction is the wrong way, maybe you should decide.”

The girl watched him as he talked, as though she understood at least part of what he was saying. Finally, as he finished his monologue, she gave a little tug on his hand and took a tentative step forward. She paused a moment, looking back at him as if to ask if he was coming and then started walking slowly toward the dense, snowy wood in front of them.

He hesitated only a moment, then nodded and followed her. He felt exhausted, and as he watched her lead the way, he suspected that she did, too. Part of him understood that the cold was affecting them, and that they needed to find shelter soon. Part of him didn’t care. Most of him just wanted to lie down and sleep.

“I don’t know who you are,” he said, feeling the need for some kind of noise to keep himself awake. “I don’t even know if you can understand me, so I’m probably just talking to myself, but I need the sound to help me stay awake.”

She looked back over her shoulder at him, but kept walking. Their progress was slow – excruciatingly slow – and painful, but steady. He watched her push her way through some bushes, and winced as they scraped against her skin. He winced again as he followed her and the branches scraped his side.

The exercise was warming him up though. He was starting to feel the pain in his fingers and toes, in his forehead where he’d smashed against the steering wheel, in all the varied scrapes and bruises all over his body. He could tell from the way she moved that she was feeling her injuries, too.

“We’re going to freeze out here if we don’t find shelter,” he told her. “And clothing. We n-n-need to find clothes.”

She stopped and looked directly at him. “Cl-othes?”

He blinked. Her voice was hoarse, husky, as though it had been some time since she last spoke. Thinking about it, he realized that was probably true. It would be difficult to speak in the aliens’ liquid environment, and she had been in an alien space suit long enough for her skin to pick up the green coloration.

He nodded. “Yes, clothes. We need clothes. And shelter. A place to rest. Some place warm.” He watched her watching him, then gave her a small smile. He followed her again as she turned and moved on. “You don’t understand me, do you? Some of it maybe, but not all. The question is, what language do you speak? French? German? Swiss? Or is it possibly no Earth language at all? Are you one of them? Are you the one with all the answers we’ve been looking for? The one who …”

His voice cut off in mid sentence as the girl stopped, dragged him down into thick cover and slipped her hand over his mouth. Once again, he heard a crunching sound approaching. The footsteps paused near their hiding place, and he caught a glimpse of red and silver through the bushes. He slipped an arm around the girl’s shoulders and nodded carefully that he understood.

They waited what seemed an eternity before the alien moved away. As soon as the sound of the alien’s footsteps faded, the girl stood and moved quickly away, pulling him with her. They stepped carefully, watching where they placed their feet, knowing the slightest sound could draw the alien back in their direction.

After a while, they stopped trying to be quiet. It took most of their energy just to keep moving. It felt as though they had been traveling forever. He was just about to call a halt when she stumbled and fell.

“Hey!” he said, kneeling beside her. “Are you okay?”

She curled up into a fetal position, out of breath and obviously exhausted. He patted her gently on the shoulder and looked around. They had to find shelter, somewhere out of the snow and cold. With a sigh, he amended that thought as his gaze turned back to the way they’d come. They needed a way to protect themselves from the aliens, too. They’d left a clear trail through the snow -- one that would be no problem for the aliens to follow, straight to them.

The clouds parted briefly, letting the sunshine through for just a moment. The glare on the snow was blinding, and he almost missed the sparkle of something shining through the trees. He patted her shoulder again, then stood, peering intently toward the object. After just a moment, he knelt beside her again.

“Come on,” he said softly, gently trying to pull her to her feet. “There’s a place over there where we can get warm, I think. It’s not too far but you have to get up.”

She didn’t respond. He could barely feel her, his hands were so cold, but he kept trying to get her to get up. Her skin was taking on a bluish cast, as was his although he didn’t realize it. They had to find shelter soon.

He shook her gently. “Please, you have to get up. It’s not far, and then you can rest, I promise.”

When she still didn’t respond, he carefully lifted her into his arms and started walking in the direction he’d seen the glint of sunshine on glass. He’d taken only a few steps before she sighed and opened her eyes. She’d lost one of the shields and he was surprised by how startlingly green her eye was. He smiled at her. She smiled back tentatively and fidgeted a bit to indicate she wanted him to put her down. He set her gently on her feet. She put an arm around his waist and leaned against him as they continued walking.

It didn’t take them long to reach the edge of the wood. They stopped just inside the fringe, still under cover of the brush and trees. Ahead of them lay an open space, covered in deep, unmarked snow. In the center of the small clearing sat a small cottage, its windows dark now that the clouds had covered the sun again.

It was a small place, probably not more than a couple of rooms inside. The roof slanted sharply, to keep down the accumulation of snow, he guessed. At that angle, the snow would pile up for while, and then slide off, propelled by its own weight. There were two large windows and a door in the side facing them, and a rough-wood deck that appeared to run all the way around the house. One of the windows was fully covered by heavy-looking draperies, while the other had only one curtain covering the side nearest the door, which was standing slightly ajar. There was snow on the deck, as well as the roof, and a small drift in the opening of the door.

He looked around carefully for a few minutes, his arms around the girl who was now leaning heavily against him. She was no longer shivering, but he didn’t know if that was good or bad. Finally, satisfied that there was no one there but them, he led her across the field and into the cottage.

Inside, it was gloomy. The windows were either covered by the heavy draperies he’d seen from the outside, or were so dirty that little light could get in. Or maybe it was that it was getting darker outside. The sun was going down in a spectacular display. He’d also noticed that it was starting to snow again, and he hoped it would be enough to cover their tracks.

It wasn’t too musty smelling inside, though, probably thanks to the door having been left ajar. Unfortunately, some sort of animal had been in, as he could tell by the state of the sofa. Sitting forlornly in the middle of the room, it had had its stuffing pulled out in huge wads and scattered across the floor.

He guided the girl over to the sofa and sat her on the least-damaged section, pulling off the old sheet that had once been used to cover the sofa and wrapping her in it. He then went back and forced the door closed after taking another quick look outside. There were only their own tracks marking the snow outside, but it was already too dark to see if anyone – or anything – was lurking at the edge of the wood. He glanced at the girl again, and then began searching the cottage for anything useful.

He’d been right -- there were exactly two rooms inside the cottage. The main room, taking up slightly more than half the space in the building, was the room they’d entered. Besides the dilapidated sofa, it contained a small gas-powered stove, some built-in cabinets, an ancient looking sink with an extremely old-fashioned rusty hand pump and a tiny icebox in the back corner to the left of the entrance, and an overstuffed chair that almost matched the sofa. It, too, had been gutted by some previous four-legged occupant of the cottage.

There was also a large fireplace at one side of the room, directly across from the door. A thick layer of ash lined the floor of the fireplace and a small stack of firewood balanced precariously beside the hearth. It wouldn’t be enough to keep a fire going all night, he knew, but at least it would thaw them out. If he could get a fire started, that is. He stacked some of the wood on the andirons in the fireplace and then began a more thorough examination of their new shelter, planning to come back later and try to start the fire.

The icebox didn’t work, and apparently hadn’t for some time. The only things in it were cobwebs, and a rather large – and thankfully rather dead – spider. The stove, on the other hand, did seem to work. At least, he could smell the rotten-eggs odor of propane when he turned the single burner knob.

He scrounged around in the cabinets until he found some pots and a half-empty box of matches. Praying silently, he forced the hand pump up and down a couple of times, but nothing happened. Sighing softly, he took the largest pan in the place outside and filled it with snow from one of the drifts by the cottage. He brought the pan back inside, set it on the stove, turned the knob and lit the burner.

“While that heats,” he said to the back of the sofa, “I’m going to check out the other room. Maybe there’ll be some clothing back there. Or blankets. Or something.”

The second room was obviously a bedroom. There was an old rusty iron bedstead with a lumpy mattress and some sort of nest built of grasses in the middle of it. In the corner farthest from the door stood a wooden wardrobe, its doors and drawers shut tight. Seeing nothing useful around the bed, he slowly crossed the room to the wardrobe.

He didn’t really expect to find anything more than cobwebs inside, so it was a great surprise when he pulled open one of the doors to find clothes hanging inside. Three pairs of camouflage-colored, insulated coveralls, in three different sizes. This was obviously someone’s hunting cabin, although it looked as though quite some time had passed since they’d been here.

Whatever the story, he was grateful that they had left the coveralls. They wouldn’t fit either of them perfectly, but they would at least give them some protection from the cold. He pulled two pair off their hangers, and closed the door to search the rest of the wardrobe.

He returned to the other room a few moments later with the coveralls, two pairs of socks from one of the drawers and two pairs of hunting boots he’d found at the bottom of the wardrobe, hidden by the coveralls. The snow had melted and water was boiling merrily on the stove, so he put the clothing down on the sofa by the girl, moved the pot off the stove, extinguished the flame and then took a smaller pan outside and filled it with snow. He set it on the still-warm burner to melt.

He dipped some of the hot water into another pot and added a little of the snow from the second pan. After gingerly testing the temperature, he added more snow until the water in the pan was cool enough to immerse his nearly frozen hands in without scalding them. He carried this over to the sofa and sat down beside the girl.

He smiled at her and noticed that she had removed the other eye shield. Once again, he was amazed at how green her eyes were. A deep, emerald green … As green as the new grass that came up every spring in the village he’d grown up in. The green tint of her skin had faded almost completely and he could see that her cheeks were reddening. He hoped that redness was caused by exposure to the wind and not by a fever.

She gave him a small smile in return and then let her head fall back against the back of the sofa. Her eyes closed, tiny lines appearing at the corners and between them as her eyes tightened in pain.

He watched her a moment, frowning at the nasty bruise that was now visible across her throat. He didn’t think he’d done that, but he couldn’t be certain. However it had happened, it looked painful. She seemed to be falling asleep and he wondered once again who she was. He was fairly certain he didn’t know her – he thought he’d remember someone like her no matter what happened to him.

She shivered, violently, prompting a corresponding shiver from him. He glanced at the fireplace and frowned. He had the matches he’d found in the kitchen cabinet and the firewood was dry, so there was little doubt in his mind that he could start a fire. The problem was that the fire would generate smoke, which would go up the chimney (unless some animal had built a nest in the flue, in which case the smoke would likely fill the room and choke them, or the nest would catch fire and then the fire would probably spread and their haven from the storm would burn down). Smoke coming from the chimney would be a sure sign that someone was about. The aliens would be drawn straight to them.

Of course, he reminded himself, the aliens could just follow their tracks through the snow. They hadn’t even thought about covering their trail, much less done anything about it. He hoped the aliens needed to find some shelter, too, and had gone back to their ship for the night. Somehow, though, he doubted that he was that lucky.

Aliens aside, if they didn’t get warmed up soon, they would both die. He knew this, although he didn’t really seem to care at the moment. He leaned back against the sofa next to the girl and let his head fall over onto her shoulder. His eyes closed and he smiled again. The sweet musky smell filled his nostrils, overwhelming him. He dreamed of a high mountain field filled with unusual, pale yellow flowers while his body did what instinct – or something – compelled him to do.

When he woke again, he was alone, face down on the sofa. The sheet he’d wrapped around the girl when they arrived was bunched up under him, protecting his thighs from the springs where the sofa’s stuffing had been pulled out. The sweet musky smell lingered in the air around him and, although it wasn’t as strong … as overpowering … as before, it was still a struggle to fight its effects.

He snorted and sat up, and narrowly missed putting his feet down on the girl. She was lying on the floor in front of the sofa, soaking wet and curled into a tight little ball. The pan that he’d filled with warm water was on its side, empty. He wasn’t sure if it had gotten knocked over or if the girl had intentionally poured it over herself. Either way, she was wet and freezing, and the temperature in the room was dropping.

He ripped a couple of strips off the sheet, gathered up some of the stuffing from the floor, the nest from the middle of the bed and the matches from the kitchen and knelt in front of the fireplace. He stuffed the grass nest and stuffing between and under the logs on the andirons and wadded the strips of sheeting up. Mentally crossing his fingers, he struck a match, lit the sheeting and shoved it into the fireplace.

He watched, slowly smiling as first the grass and then the stuffing blazed up. In moments he had a warm fire going as the logs caught. He laughed softly, knowing that this joy and warmth would be short-lived but enjoying it anyway, then went over and carried the girl closer to the fire.

He wrapped what was left of the sheet back around the girl, trying to make her as comfortable as possible on the floor. Then he pulled on the larger of the two pair of coveralls and a pair of socks and boots. The clothing and shoes were a size or two too large, but they would do for now. He took a quick glance back at the girl, grabbed up the empty pan and stepped outside to refill it with snow.

Back inside, he removed the smaller pan of snowmelt from the now-cold burner, setting the pan full of snow in its place, and then used another of his dwindling supply of matches to relight the burner. The water in the smaller pan was still slightly warm, so he carried it over to the girl.

She had sat up while he was gone, and now faced the small fire with the sheet still wrapped around her. Her arms were wrapped around her legs and her chin rested on her knees. He thought she looked extremely tired and very beautiful. She looked up at him as he sat down beside her. Considering what he’d done to her, he was surprised to see no fear in her eyes, only weariness and a sort of resignation that caused his heart to ache.

“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching over and tearing another small strip off the sheet. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” He dipped the piece of cloth into the water and then began gently washing her face. He smiled reassuringly (he hoped).

She stayed very still for a few moments, giving him a small, tired smile in return. She watched him rinse the cloth, then took it from him. Slowly, her eyes never leaving his, she washed his face and neck. She rinsed the cloth again and rose to her knees, letting the sheet drop to the floor around her. With one hand she unfastened the coveralls and pushed them back. She wiped the cloth over his exposed chest and shoulders and then waved it once under his nose.

He frowned and shook his head, at first not understanding what she was trying to tell him. Then the familiar sweet, musky fragrance wafted up from the cloth and his senses reeled. She backed away from him an inch or two, and then dropped the cloth into the water.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, keeping his eyes shut tight until his head cleared. Finally, he opened his eyes and found himself looking directly into hers. He nodded slowly, glancing down at the pan of water and the oily film over the top of it.

“I get it,” he said softly. “The gas, right? It left a residue on our skin, and that’s what’s causing me to … lose control. And that’s why you poured the water over yourself earlier, too. To wash it off.”

The girl watched him solemnly. He wasn’t sure whether she understood him, but he was fairly certain that was what she’d been trying to tell him. He looked over at the stove and then stripped out of his clothes. A few moments later, he was standing on the other side of the sofa with the pan of half-melted snow from the stove.

Carefully, gritting his teeth to keep them from chattering, he poured the barely-warm water over his body. When the pan was empty, he returned to the warmer spot by the fireplace and borrowed the sheet from the girl. He used the sheet to dry most of the water off, then wrapped it around himself and went to the other room to get the last pair of coveralls from the wardrobe.

He pulled on the coveralls, dropping the sheet on the floor in front of the wardrobe. He didn’t think he’d be needing it again. Besides, he figured by now it had quite a bit of that residue on it, as did the first set of coveralls he’d been wearing.

He gave the room another quick once-over, looking for anything that would burn. There wasn’t much firewood in the other room, and it was going to be a long night. There was little that would burn, however. The mattress would, but it would be awkward to carry to the fireplace. The only other item in the room that was flammable was the wardrobe. He gave it a few test nudges and sighed. The wardrobe was well made, its construction still solid. It would take more than he had to break it up for firewood.

He went back into the other room and helped the girl into her coveralls, socks and boots. They, too, were a couple of sizes too large, but at least they provided some protection from the cold. He sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. She looked up at him, and then leaned against him, snuggling up close for warmth. He smiled slightly and laid his head against hers. Things were looking better.

He didn’t know how long they sat there like that. They’d obviously fallen asleep – the fire had gone out at some point. He wasn’t sure what had wakened him, but whatever it was, it had wakened the girl as well. They both sat up and looked at each other.

A moment passed in silence, then another. And then they heard it – the unmistakable sound of an incoming UFO.

For a brief moment, he saw a look of fear in her eyes. It was quickly replaced by a combination of anger, hatred and determination. As the sound of the UFO grew louder, they scrambled to their feet.

He glanced toward the fireplace, guessing that the aliens had seen the smoke from their fire and were coming to investigate. The fire was out, but there was still a slim tendril of smoke rising lazily up the chimney. He frowned and turned back toward the girl.

She was looking around the cabin, searching for something to use as a weapon. With a brief, slight smile, he joined in the search, although he didn’t remember seeing anything useful except …

He crossed back over to the fireplace and picked up the poker. It was a bit rusty in places, but the metal was still good. As a long-distance weapon it was useless, but it would work fairly well if the aliens managed to get inside. He took the girl’s elbow and guided her into the other room. Because of the smoke, they couldn’t hide the fact that someone had been at the cabin, but maybe they could make it appear that there was no one there now.

As he recalled, there was just enough room in the wardrobe for the girl. He helped her inside and closed the door. Then he positioned himself beside the door, out of sight of anyone coming in from the other room.

They waited.

He listened as the UFO went silent, knowing that probably meant it had landed. He shifted his grip on the poker nervously. The silence lasted for what seemed forever, although it was probably less than a couple of minutes. He heard the sound of the UFO lifting off again, moving fast.

There was a slow, soft – yet gratingly loud – squeak, coming from across the room. He glanced over and saw the girl peeking around the half-opened door of the wardrobe. He took one step toward her, to reassure her and close the door again, and then paused.

Was that a shot he’d heard? He wasn’t sure. He started to take another step toward the girl but stopped before completing it. That was definitely a footstep on the porch. He tapped his forefinger against his lips, waved the girl back into the wardrobe and took his position behind the bedroom door again.

Another shot, somewhere outside. He heard the door in the other room being forced open. Once again, he nervously shifted his grip on the poker, holding it over his shoulder, ready to swing. He glanced toward the wardrobe. The door was still hanging ajar, but he couldn’t see the girl. She’d apparently understood him and ducked back out of sight, leaving the door unclosed. The squeak as she closed it would have alerted the unwelcome visitor in the other room.

Footsteps, slow and cautious, across the floor in the other room. As he listened, he imagined the alien circling the room, checking out the sheets where they lay on the floor, the fireplace with its thin tendril of smoke still snaking up the chimney, the pots by the stove. The footsteps paused a moment, then headed toward the bedroom door.

He again shifted his grip on the poker and then froze as the door moved slightly. Breathing through his mouth to make as little noise as possible, he tightened his grip on the poker.

Slowly, the door swung inward a bit farther… and then stopped. He counted to five, and then swung the poker down on the barrel of the weapon as hard as he could. The sound of the weapon firing reverberated around the room, almost – but not quite – covering the hoarse squeak from the wardrobe. He brought the poker up as quickly as he could for another swing at the alien. It might be the last swing he got in, so he wanted to make it count.

Halfway through the poker’s arc, however, he realized this was no alien. With an effort he stopped the swing and dropped the poker, staring at the blue-clad figure before him with a mixture of astonishment and overwhelming relief.

“Carlin!” he exclaimed. “Am I glad to see you!”

“Colonel?” Captain Peter Carlin blinked back at him, equally astonished. This was not what he had expected to find when he began searching the cabin. He hadn’t really expected the aliens, of course – no one really thought they would stop to light a fire – but… Well, he might not be exactly sure just what he had expected to find, but it definitely wasn’t this.

“Of course, considering the situation, we ……”

“Cut to the bottom line, doctor,” Straker interrupted impatiently. He raised his gaze from the folder in front of him and gave Jackson a cool glare. “Do we have a problem or not?”

Jackson calmly returned the commander’s gaze, pausing a moment to consider the best way to answer. “To simplify the matter to the extreme,” he said slowly, “no. We do not appear to … have a problem, as you put it. Despite the fact that he was a prisoner of the aliens for four days, …”

“Four days?” Alec Freeman came to his feet across the room. “He was missing nearly a week, doctor!”

Jackson turned to Freeman. “Yes, Colonel, I am aware of that. However, we have determined that he was only a prisoner for approximately four days. The remaining time was spent evading recapture, with the girl.

He turned back to Straker. “And as I was about to say, the aliens apparently had no interest in questioning him. There was no interrogation....”

Straker closed the folder, never taking his eyes from Jackson. “You’re sure about that?”

Jackson sighed inwardly. He understood how important the matter was to these two men, but they would never get the answers they sought if they continued to interrupt. “As sure as we can be, yes,” he answered with his characteristic calm slowness. “The tests were extensive, and the results were consistent. He was not questioned in any way.”

Straker grimly considered this for a moment, the other two men waiting in silence. Finally, he nodded. “What about the girl?”

“Yeeesss, the girl,” Jackson pursed his lips, crossing his arms and looking down for a moment. “There was some minor damage to her vocal cords, caused by a blow to her throat, leaving her unable to speak. Also, she seems to understand very little of what is said to her.”

“She doesn’t speak English?” Freeman asked.

“Apparently not,” Jackson replied, once again turning to face Freeman. “However, as I said, she is unable to speak. We will have to wait until the damage to her throat heals before we will know for certain.”

“What about the genetic tests? Is she human?”

Jackson sighed again quietly. He was rightfully proud of the genetic testing SHADO performed on the aliens, testing which normally made it clear whether they were dealing with aliens or human who had, in one way or another, been suborned to act as agents for the enemy. “Unfortunately,” he said reluctantly, “the tests were inconclusive.” He shrugged. “She could be either.”

Straker nodded and stood. “Rerun the tests, doctor. I want a conclusive answer.”

Jackson nodded, recognizing the dismissal. He glanced once more at each of them, then left the office.

Freeman waited until the doors closed behind the doctor, then crossed over to the elaborate bar and fixed himself a drink. “So it was … what? Some sort of breeding experiment?”

Straker rounded the desk and began pacing. “Or a ploy to get one of them down here.”"

“If she’s one of them.” Alec drained his glass, watching his friend pace. “That isn’t certain, according to Jackson. And they also apparently either didn’t know about Foster’s connection to SHADO, …”

“…or they didn’t care.” Straker finished the sentence for Alec. “Or they had some other reason we’ll never know. Whatever the case, we’ll know more when Jackson’s finished with the second set of tests.”

Alec nodded and set his now-empty glass back on top of the bar. “And Foster?”

“Foster.” Straker returned to his desk and picked up the folder he’d been looking at when Jackson had arrived. He held it up and then handed it to Alec. “Jackson’s fairly certain the aliens did nothing more than force him to assault the girl. He’s in no shape to return to duty, though. I’m giving him a few days’ leave once he’s released from the medical center.”