The Raptor

Chapter 1

Jacob Hart had just become the richest man in the world, and he was not happy. He was bored. He had cleaned up the full patent process on the industrial version of his device and was now finishing the details of the sale to the three countries that could afford to buy it. That money was already flowing into his accounts. He had produced the first teleporter and proven its reliability to the point where it could be applied for personal use. And the results had been enormous. No more need for things that rolled on wheels or flew in the air. Everything could be moved from one place to another with a touch-pad. The big corporations didn't like it, but they couldn't stop it. His device went beyond bought politicians. This was something that the man on the street had seen, and the man on the street wanted it. Of course, people who wanted to drive their electric cars still did so, but only for fun. The majority of driving that caused pollution was transportation of goods and people. Goods for dispersal, and people for jobs and places they had to be.

No longer necessary. Now people could live pretty well wherever they wanted. The corner grocery could be 500 miles away and it wouldn't matter. Just one directive and you were there. They had called him a genius. But he wasn't. He was an opportunist.

And now he was bored. But he had another device that he knew the world would want too. Anti-gravity. A device he was going to keep to himself for now. Let them get used to the teleport. He had some personal plans for his Anti-Gravity Unit. This AGU.

Now he sat, feet dangling over the edge of his living room floor, looking down at the mile-deep gorge below him called the Grand Canyon. And he was wearing the AGU on his wrist. It looked like a wrist-watch from the old days. A wrist-watch with no face. Just a golden disk. And it had given him freedom.

He was thinking how this all came about.

He had been sent by the University to look at a site where a meteor had been reported. It was seen coming down north of the town of Republic in Washington State, and his boss had deemed it useful to try to collect some samples.

"There's money in them thar rocks."

And they both had laughed at how corny that was.

So here he was. Enjoying the gift of being alone on the Selkirk plateau, a range of ancient glacier-scraped basalt that extended north into Canada. Wild country that he loved. He had been born on the Olympic Peninsula on the coast, and had been raised by an energetic mother and curious father. Parents who raised him to be curious, also, and the son's own main curiosity was to see how things work. He had dabbled in physics, and then quantum physics, until one day he had decided that the subatomic world was too small in a mind-boggling vast way. So he decided to find out how something more concrete worked. And he went into geology and found that the bigness of the planet suited him well. Another reason for that being, he was out in the field by himself. He was a man suited for solitude.

Now, turning up a high country logging road, he checked his map. He dialed in his coordinates and clicked in an overlay to see where he was in relation to the impact site, which, by the looks of it, was northwest about 1800 yards. He got out of his 4-by and started walking up the slope.

He had been with the University in Spokane for sixteen years now, and this was his 44th Field exploratory. In that period of time he had collected over 3500 samples of various meteorite debris. He had a good reputation in the field and was proud of it.

Scrambling over to a truck-sized chunk of basalt, he stood on top and looked around. According to the grid, the object would be up a small glacial cirque that ran high into a limestone wall above. Part of an old seabed that was here thirty-three and a half million years ago. He knew the formation, and remembered there was a good supply of fossil in it. Maybe after this job was done, he would check it out. He was going to be here for three days at least. Wouldn't hurt to spend a couple of hours checking for imprints.

But now, the meteorite. He pulled out his scanner and set it for heavy metals. It detected nothing. Okay. It wasn't a ferrous meteorite. It was the other kind, the hard-to-find kind: chondrite or achondrite. He'd have to look for signs of impact and then radial dispersal. So he would set himself into patience mode. Drudgery that he liked.

When he had first got into the day-to-day details of doing his fieldwork, he had taken everything he could on his back, and also on his assistant's back, a talkative Northerner named William Inuk. Now, over the years, he had learned to travel alone and had trained himself to get by with very little on his daily routine. He had basically reduced his needs to a cliff- hanging mountain camper. The only difference being a low one-man pup tent instead of a tie-in hammock tent. He could live comfortably in the field for up to ten days with what he could carry on his back. Now, far away from the limitations of the outside world, this was where he was happiest.

Working his way up the slope, he reached a monolith and scrambled to the top. From here he would have a good view of the impact site. According to the radar trace, the object's size would have been at least 6 inches across. Big enough to leave an obvious crater in the surrounding baseball-sized debris. But now, looking around, he could see no recent evidence of any disturbance in the material. He had a good 360° view of everything around him, and there was nothing. Just some slough that had come off the rock wall beside him many years ago. Nothing fresh.

Puzzled, he checked his data again. He was exactly 50 feet west of where the object should have hit. Then he noticed something he hadn't seen before in the information. Whatever it was, it hadn't been traveling that fast. Punching in some calculations, he was astonished at the readout. According to what he was seeing now from the compression data, the object had decelerated from 20,000 miles an hour 100 feet above him and then stopped. So it couldn't have been a meteorite. What else? As far as he knew, there was no man-made object that could stop from that velocity to zero within that arc. That would be impossible. He decided to check out the contact site more thoroughly.

As he got closer, he started to realize that something had happened here. The smaller chunks of basalt had been moved. Rock that had been exposed to sun and weather for millennia has an oxidized surface with a darkened hue. Turn them over, and they're pale. Many of these pieces around him now had been moved enough that he could see the lighter-colored rock beneath them. They hadn't been moved from an impact, they had been moved from a pressure wave above them. Something much bigger than six inches across. He pulled out his sensor and took a radiation reading. There was some radiation, but not the same isotopic reading that he would've gotten from a local meteorite—local, being from the same Solar system he lived in. This was from beyond. From another star system. And that was strange and rare. Perhaps so strange that it could have stopped itself from impacting? He felt a rush of excitement.

He turned the scan downhill to follow the trace. It was hard to believe, but what he was following was the ghostly evidence of something that must have been hovering just above the ground. No more disturbed rock, just a low radioactive footprint heading into the dense woods below. Scrambling down, he came to where the trace ended in a small area of flattened bush. He looked around, and at first didn't see anything. Then he noticed a faint glint in the sunlight. Moving to the small triangular object, he checked for radioactivity. He saw that it had the same low-level isotopic signature he'd been following.

And then he heard, "Please. You must help me," non-verbal, in his head.

He spun around and froze. In front of him, where the flattened bushes had been, there was now an egg-shaped silver orb. Without thinking, he slowly started to approach the object.

"Hello? Are you hurt?" He didn't know whether he was talking to the orb or something inside of it.

"You must help me, Jacob. I can't stay here!"

Jacob couldn't answer. Now the awareness of what was happening to him and what he was observing, was hitting his mind head-on. It was a flying saucer, and he was talking to it!

"This is not a flying saucer, Jacob. Orb is more appropriate. Same propulsion, but made for a different purpose. And you're not talking to it, you're talking to me."

The man fell back in a rising wave of fear and confusion.

"Be calm, Jacob. My designation is 253, and I will do you no harm."

Then 253 sent a small pulse of calming energy into the man's mind.

"Please. You must help me, Jacob. I must get a signal to one of my local craft so they can retrieve me."

Feeling a bit easier now, Jacob cautiously stepped forward and asked, "What happened to you? I don't see any damage here."

As he moved closer, a door slid open to reveal a cramped interior with a small humanoid inside.

It looked like all the tabloids said it would look like. Three-and-a-half feet tall, grey, with a big head and large dark eyes. And it was oozing a yellow liquid from the small perforation that Jacob presumed to be one of its ears.

"I am damaged, Jacob. My pod hit one of your defunct weather satellites and damaged my Mass Drive. I had to use all of my field power to make a survivable landing. My system is drained and damaged." It wiped away a trickle of liquid from the corner of its eye. "I'm being affected by a severe concussion, and if I'm not retrieved soon, I will die. That cannot be allowed to happen."

Jacob verbalized again. "What can I do?"

"I need one Heg to send a signal. I would be retrieved very quickly after that."

"What's a Heg?"

"It's a unit of electrical energy. In your terms it would be … " a short pause, "the equivalent of four volts. I know your species have many devices that can supply that."

Jacob pulled out his emergency transponder. "Will this do? It's twelve volts."

With what, to Jacob, seemed to be a sense of relief, the creature said. "Yes. Very much so."

It went to reach for it and then stopped with a wince of pain. "I can't move, Jacob. You'll have to do it for me."

"Do what?"

"Take your device and hold it over that round tablet." Pointing to a small raised area in the corner of the enclosure. "Just hold it there for a few moments and the unit will automatically take what it needs."

Jacob started to squeeze into the chamber and then he stopped. He sat back and looked at the creature for a moment. And then he said. "What can you give me?"

"What? What do you mean, Jacob?

"I mean, you should give me something for this. I'm saving your life, right?" It seemed fair to Jacob. Nobody gets nothing for nothing

"I haven't anything to give you, human! Please!"

Up to this point, 253 had been following protocol for empathic interaction with this species. But now he was projecting actual panic. This couldn't turn into a bartering process!

"I'm sure you have something, 253. Because if you don't, I'll take you down this mountain and show you and this machine to the authorities."

The creature looked at him. And then, "What do you suggest?"

Jacob looked around at the interior of the craft and thought. "What did you say powered this thing?"

"A small fusion reactor that energizes the Mass Drive."

"Okay. And what does the Mass Drive do?"

"It manipulates gravity by being a transmitter and a receiver of mass using quantum conversion energy."

"You mean it can be a transmitter and a receiver at the same time?"

"Not quite at the same time. The receiver has to be sent ahead to the direction you want to go. The time gap between the two can be measured in nanoseconds. That's why in the many images you have of our craft, they appear to behave erratically. Like a butterfly or a leaf in the wind. When you're inside the craft when that's happening, it's the outside world that appears to be bouncing erratically. Inside you feel nothing of inertia or mass. It's stable."

Jacob thought about that.

"How fast can one of these things go?"

253 paused and then said, "Many, many times the speed of light. When we are in atmosphere we are limited."

"How limited?"

253 searched for an analogy. "When you cast a beam of light on a wall from an illuminating device and jerk it to another direction. That illustrates maximum atmospheric velocity for one of our craft. That speed can be measured in thousands of miles per hour using your vernacular. Once we have left atmosphere, velocity limits are theoretical. But as an example, our home system is 53,000 light years from here and we can reach that distance comfortably in six Earth-months."

Jacob nodded, Not really assimilating the information. Too much and too amazing. "Show me that drive."

253 hesitated. He was telling this human things that his species weren't supposed to know yet. If this had been an ordinary moment in time, he would've let himself die. But he was carrying a message, and it had to be delivered at all costs. He had to survive. Besides, after he was retrieved, he could wipe the human's mind.

Pointing to a series of indentations on the panel to his right, he said, "Help me put my hand there."

Jacob leaned forward and very gently held the small body up. Then he carefully grasped the alien's hand. Three long, delicate fingers and one opposing thumb. Four knuckles instead of three. And then he took a mind's eye picture of himself. One that he never forgot. A life-changing moment in time.

He pressed 253's hand to the marked area, and a panel popped up to reveal a long, thin white rod.

"Now grasp that and pull it out." 253 was hoping that it would be stuck and immovable.

Jacob reached in, and then, with a harsh tug, pulled the unit free. Three joined bars Intertwined with an intricate matrix of gold coil. He backed out of the cab and placed the assembly on the ground.

"Do you know how this works? The mechanics of it?"

253 nodded. "Yes."

"Give me that information." Jacob now realized he had a direct mind-to-mind connection with the creature. All he needed was a picture.

Becoming even more distressed, 253 pleaded, "You won't understand it! It's quantum mechanics!"

"I know, and I'm conversant in that language." He put himself closer to the creature. "Give it to me!"

And, under great duress, 253 did just that.

And Jacob got it, and was amazed at how basically simple it was. "Thank you, 253! That wasn't that hard, was it?"

"That was very hard, human. You're species isn't ready for that knowledge. And you in particular, are not ready for it and what it can do."

"Oh well, 253, you know how it is. Shit happens." Jacob was starting to get a broader picture in his mind. "And with this, you can travel these amazing velocities and you can also control gravity."

"Yes"

Jacob thought on this. "So you're saying that you're using this device to also travel in outer space with?"

"Yes. Gravity is everywhere."

"That's really good, 253." Jacob peered closer at the alien. "Can I get you anything? Are you okay?"

253 gestured to a small ring above him. "Could you pull that down, please?"

Jacob pulled on the ring to reveal a tray with various apparatus on it.

"Now please, Jacob. Could you look away? This is very private."

"Careful, 253. You're not going to try anything are you? Like maybe suicide or something?"

"No, Jacob. It's just that this is a very intimate act for my kind. I would hesitate to do this even in front of another of my species."

David cautiously turned and sat on the rim of the opening he was leaning through. He was feeling the effects of 253's calming pulse of energy dissipating. Then, focusing on that, he realized he didn't need it. Probably not then and definitely not now. He was adaptable.

"253, I will ask you for two more things, and then I'll let you send that signal."

253 thought that the human emotions of hate and contempt would have been gratifying at this time, but it was not in its ability to do so. "Must you? In the long run, you're harming your species with this knowledge."

Jacob smiled. "You let me decide that. I don't think you have a clue how we're going to react to this. Now, two more things."

"Jacob. What if I told you I know the human reaction?"

Jacob was losing his patience. "Two more things, 253! You're losing a lot of … stuff from your ear-thingy! You're going to need help pretty quickly! Let's get this over with!"

253 tiredly agreed. "Yes, yes. Let's get this over with."

"Okay. Now give me two things."

"How do I know you'll keep your word?"

"You don't, but I will." And he sort of meant it.

"Very well. Then you will know that there is teleportation which is controlled and powered by the Mass Drive. We call it the transdonic microwave D-inhibited quatrom displacer."

"And that's a teleporter?"

"Yes."

"Then we'll just call it the teleporter."

253 sighed. "If you wish."

"Send me a picture how that works."

So 253 did.

"Really? That's all it is? I can do that. Now, one more thing, 253. Then we send that signal."

"The only thing that comes to mind, human, is this anti-gravity unit on my wrist. But that's still the basic technology that I have already given you."

Jacob was becoming impatient. Squatting in the small door and feeling very cramped, he was starting to get a backache.

"Come on, 253! What about you being able to make your craft invisible?"

"That's just how the craft is built for intrusion. I have no access to that knowledge."

"God dammit, 253! Give me something! That stuff coming out of your ear is getting worse!" It wasn't, but Jacob figured he could panic the little bugger into giving him some further material.

Now starting to feel that perhaps things should culminate quickly before he expired, 253 said. "There is a weapon!"

Jacob froze. A weapon? He smiled. Now we're getting serious. "What kind of weapon?"

"The ultimate kind, Jacob. You don't want it! It wouldn't be good!"

Jacob leaned closer to the small creature. "253. My friend. It's all right. I'll never use it, and I certainly would never give it away. It's just that if some terrible cataclysm ever happened, I would have something to defend humanity with." Especially his own personal humanity. Nothing like having an unbeatable weapon on hand just in case.

"Very well, Jacob. But use it wisely. There are species all over this quadrant that would die to have one of these. It's in that blue panel by the view-screen. Be careful."

Jacob turned and squeezed further into the cab. And then, knowing how things seem to work in this environment, he tapped the panel, which slid open to reveal a very solid hand-sized weapon with a very business-like chunk of metal attached to the front.

"Well, all right! We're in business!"

"Then, human, are we through?"

"Yes! Definitely! This is great! Thanks so very much!"

And then, just because it seemed like the best way to end all this without complications, he picked up a rock from the ground beneath him and turned to 253.

"What are you doing, Jacob?"

"I'm sorry about this, 253. I really and truly am."

Seeing what was in the man's mind, 253 exclaimed, "You can't kill me, Jacob! This vehicle would self-destruct immediately! It would scorch the earth in a 100 tik radius!" It wouldn't, of course, but the alien couldn't let itself be killed by this barbarian. The message was crucial.

Jacob got up and stepped back. "Look, 253. I don't want to kill you. Honest to God I don't. But what's to stop you from getting back with your buddies and then picking me up and killing me?"

"We don't kill, Jacob."

"Okay, then. Then just making me disappear. From what I've read, that sounds to be a pretty standard procedure with your type."

"I wouldn't do that, Jacob. I give you my word."

Now Jacob was thinking that the aliens word was about as good as his, so he said, "Sorry, kid. I gotta do this." And he lifted 253 up and carried the alien into the woods behind them.

And then he sat and looked at 253 and that look stretched into two minutes. And then, three minutes.

And then five minutes, until 253 finally said, "What are you going to do, Jacob? I can look at you now and see that you don't want to do this."

And Jacob, looking at him, agreed.

So he took off his backpack and pulled out his lunch and sat back. And he waited. Then, after a moment in time, he quit eating his sandwich. Then it was just Jacob reclining and listening to the fading calls for help from 253 as they slowly trickled into silence. And then, about 40 minutes after that sad ending, Jacob looked over his shoulder at a sound behind him. It was the orb rapidly declining into a silver mist and then gone, a small whoosh of air marking its passing.

Getting up, he brushed himself off and turned to go. After a few steps he looked back at the small figure lying on the ground. As a child he had mildly tortured small animals that had fallen into his hands. Never to the death, but just enough to give him a feeling of control and power over his environment. He had been diagnosed as having psychopathic characteristics when he was young. The principle of the school forcing that humiliating inspection on him after he had gone a bit overboard with his revenge on the bully that had been bothering him. The bully had been hospitalized, but Jacob's mother had paid the family off, and no more was said about it. After the psychiatric evaluation, she moved him and her husband to another far and more comfortable place. This third move in his life, for the same reason as the other three. He lacked empathy. But now, looking back at the still body behind him, he felt a twinge of sadness. Like the time he had shot a robin with his little gun, never thinking that he would've hit the bird, and being surprised when he did. As that somewhat sad youthful memory passed through him, it was quickly overcome by the fresh realization that he was about to become very rich.

Joyfully, he walked back to his small camp. He wasn't worried about anybody finding the alien body. He was sure that little thing would be gone and strewn around the area into nothingness within three days. Nothing to connect him to incidental homicide—if that could be applied to something not of this earth.

By that evening he was back at his Spokane apartment, and planning the details of his future.

Which, as it turned out, were more spectacular, and he supposed, gratifying, than ever he could've imagined.

And with this new wealth came eventual boredom. It never was completely about the money. To him, the object of any game was to challenge himself to the most extreme levels of his capabilities. Now, he felt he had done that. He had experienced a despotic period of indulgence which had quickly turned into a boring sameness.

And so now he sat.

Sitting on the edge of the floor on what he would have to call his living room, he looked down into a brightly lit depth of sedimentary rock and river below him. And it felt wonderful because he knew his AGU worked. He had tested it above his pool in one of his houses. Jumping off the diving board and clicking on the AGU just before he was about to enter the water. And then he floated in midair above that extremely safe surface and realized that he had conquered the pull of gravity.

And now, after much practice, he was ready to leap into the beauty of the void below him.

So he did.

And it was as perfect as he knew it would be. The anti-gravity giving him absolute control of his weight. Right now, as he leaped, he had dialed it into 1 ounce negative. He had wings made that he could attach to his arms and had them configured into short V-shaped scything planes that should propel him beautifully into any powerful move he would want to make. And now, he made them. He swooped. He soared. He turned hard left and just missed a condor beneath him. That old perfect thing wondering what this new creature was in the sky beside her?

Now he dove down to the ribbon of water below him. Rippling over and just above the moving liquid and riding the current of pressured air that followed the flow. Now swooping upward and projecting a gravity of zero to the device on his wrist. And he danced with the cliff swallows in the air around him. And it was beautiful to him.

But once again, because this still struck him once in a while, he thought of the alien that he had left to die. And a small sadness would touch his heart. And then the wind would rush by. The eagles and hawks looking at him as if they knew him and he forgot that guilt. A guilt becoming smaller and smaller in his heart. And he knew Joy. And all her sisters.

Then after days of experiencing all these things, he became, sadly, bored once again. And he was dismayed. Was he doomed to always reach the pinnacle and then see it fade into a used-up thing? No satisfaction ever?

Now he sat once more in his house on the cliff. Beautifully appointed, it had been constructed with the utmost secrecy and with his exacting demands for perfection. He had teleported the crew from India two years previous, and they had built it without ever knowing where they were on the planet. All materials had been personally teleported to the site by himself. It was his secret. The place where he would finally find the ultimate satisfaction, being a raptor flying in the dynamic winds of one of the biggest gorges on Earth.

And now that beauty had faded from him. So he sat thinking what had he missed? And he mulled that question over for many days.

And then he asked himself the question. What do raptors do that completes them? And the answer was obvious. They kill.

And he let that worm enter his brain and it didn't just seem right, it seemed to be the only true way to proceed with his emancipation. His release from the chains of human existence and to become a higher and more pure form of life. A Raptor. It takes what it needs when it needs it. No emotion about the initial hunt and kill. Just the satisfaction of being complete.

But first, the perfection of the kill.

He paced the floor realizing he would have to add a few more details to his costume.

Now he was truly the Raptor. He had his research-and-development team make him a grasping boot. The head of the department, Cecil Bays, had asked him for the reason for such a strange device made to fit on the bottom of the human foot. Easily explained by a Seal Team 12 needing an underwater recovery device to retrieve ordnance using strap-on footwear.

And now, these beautiful and deadly grasping spurs made to fit his feet.

He fell into space and set himself into a gentle glide, moving in a back and forth search pattern.

Just like a raptor. And he didn't see anything. He moved closer to the ground and sailed slowly to catch a better view of game. Then he did see a jackrabbit, but he was too close to dive. He didn't have the altitude to gain the speed needed. He rose back up into the heights, realizing one thing. He needed better eyes.

Now, truly, he was ready. He had acquired a military recon helmet and had discarded the bulky infrared equipment. This left him with two large orbs strapped to his head. Staring at himself in his living room mirror, he surmised he would probably look a little odd to people. He shrugged. In any case, there were very few people in this area. The Reserve was off limits to everyone except the very wealthy who could afford the guided tour in the north end of the river 50 miles away.

He fell once again into the gorge and skimmed along in his back and forth pattern. Much to his pleasure, he was joined by a golden eagle. The local hunters had gotten used to him.

He switched on his eyes.

And was astounded! He could see every little detail one thousand feet below him. It was if he was four feet off the ground, hunting. Over the next hour he saw mice! He saw rabbits! There! A fox! He looked closer and saw that the fox was on the hunt. Of what? Searching ahead of the animal, he spotted the game. A large complacent marmot stretched out on a warming rock in the early morning sun. Moving lower, the man started to position himself over the potential prey and being careful not to cast his shadow in the wrong place. Didn't want to startle the fat thing below.

Now, folding his wings, he dropped and let full gravity take him into a 120 mile an hour arc to the ground. Then, 5 feet above the surface he went to full ant-gravity and snapped his taloned feet forward, grasping the rodent and exploding back into the air with the animal squealing in his grasp. Then it was quiet. He rose on a thermal and headed back to his apartment. Wait! He was a real raptor now. He didn't live in an apartment, he lived in a lair! The Nest! He glanced at the eagle that had swung over to him, curious about his catch. The man smiled. They were truly brothers now. As he glided away, the eagle let him go. That strange creature was too big to steal from anyway. There were always safer ways to get a meal.

Jacob landed on the parapet of his nest and released his catch. He looked at it and felt tremendous satisfaction. He had finally reached a point of perfection he thought he would never achieve. He lovingly caressed the carcass and admired the subtle colorations of the body. Then he cooked and ate it. Because that's what raptors do. Well, maybe not the cooking part. He'd have to give that some thought.

So the next few weeks were given into hunting bigger and bigger game. A badger. Then a fox. Then the Desert wolf. The man now leaving most of the carcasses at the bottom of the gorge. It was more than he could eat and he knew it would not be wasted. He was doing the world of the gorge much good, he felt. Balancing out prey and predator alike. But being a man, still human, he didn't realize he was taking too much, and game gradually began to get scarce.

Not really noticing this, he was hunting one particularly clear day and spotted a large mule deer buck. It was 1000 feet below him drinking from the river and occasionally looking left and right for predators. But never up. Which was good for the Raptor. He decided to try a kill.

Maneuvering himself into position 500 feet above the target, he set himself to full gravity and hurtled down to the unsuspecting animal. He hit it with half of his full weight and broke the creature's neck and it was dead before it hit the ground. He released it and stepped back.

That was too easy. It all had gotten too easy. He clumsily shuffled back, sat on a rock and looked at the passing river. And he became afraid. He could feel the ennui returning. The feeling of nothing new in front of him about to happen. The living death of boredom. That thing he used to crave.

He rose up in the air leaving the dead animal behind him, already a forgotten disappointment. His only thought as he rose back to his apartment, was, it's over. He had experienced the Pinnacle. The Utmost.

Then a pause into a thought. No, he hadn't. There was still one worthy prey left. The ultimate prey. He smiled. Oh, this was going to be fun. Why hadn't he thought of it before? He went back to his nest to make it clean and perfect.

Everything had to be just right.

Erica Chang had never realized you could drive over something like this and still call it a road. And what horrified her was that she was driving over it in her ancient 2032 Ray 41. One Pilar battery running a seemingly indestructible single electric motor. And now she was destroying it.

So she stopped.

Getting out, she stooped back in and retrieved her keys. She knew she was surrounded by an expansive wilderness with no people in it, but she wasn't going to take the chance of losing her little car, and that was that.

She had just finished the last of her weapons training for the National Park Service and had now graded herself up to level III in the Wardenate Defensive Auxiliary and was now, proudly, a Primary Detective in that elite bureaucratic branch. She was on the first day of her new job and inspecting a possible homicide and also noticing people did not seem to care about road maintenance around here. At least they should throw off the traveling boulders that rolled down the hillside. She picked up a 20 pound tumbler and chucked it over the side of the hill. Then she realized why no one had done much of that here. It was boring and hard to do. Walking ahead on the so-called road, she noticed there was a well-trodden path angling forward to her destination. Then, two cross-country bikes with two wardens leaning against them. Erica realizing she was about to meet her field crew.

They bowed. World culture had shifted to recognizing the more Oriental social symbols of respect. Saluting was for the few white men left in the service. Bowing was for everybody else.

Returning with the shorter bow of a superior officer, she asked, "Where's the body?"

"This way ma'am. It's not exactly a body." This being said by the shorter of the two, who turned and pointed down the trail ahead of them.

"What do you mean?" She didn't like ambiguity.

"There's not much left, ma'am. Remains is more like it."

Erica looked the man over. Fairly presentable, but with a small coffee stain on the lapel of his shirt, which could have been ironed a little more stringently.

"What are your names, Wardens?" The shorter man now perceiving a well indoctrinated superior officer, straightened up. "I'm Sub-Warden Richard Contez, ma'am. And this is Sub-Warden John Borkowski. We've both been serving in this operational area for twelve years, ma'am." He turned to lead the way down the trail.

Following him, Erica asked. "How long have the … remains been on-site?"

The one named John Borkowski answered. "Three days, 14 hours, 22 minutes, ma'am."

"I see. Is that from both your pods?" The instruments could diverge as much as an hour if not properly calibrated.

"Yes ma'am. Within a few minutes each."

Coming around a large boulder, the trio stopped to observe a vulture waddling away from what Erica assumed were the 'remains'. Definitely not much left. As far as she could see, just arms and legs, obviously male due to body hair and musculature. No torso, no head, but blood marks where these items must have been at time of death. Messy.

"Do you have any idea where the rest of the body might be?"

"No, ma'am. But there are some blood signs leading off in a southwest direction."

"Any prints of whatever may have dragged it off?"

Sub-Warden Contez shrugged. "No, ma'am. No prints. It wasn't dragged off."

"Would do you mean?"

"There is no ground smear, ma'am. Whatever took the torso and head must have been flying. We followed droplets to the edge of the canyon and then from there they continued on, as far as we could tell."

Erica thought about this. "So you're saying something removed the arms and legs, and then lifted the torso into the air and flew off with it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"How heavy did the pod reveal the body to be?"

"Two hundred forty-two pounds, ma'am. Roughly 180 pounds of that would've been torso mass."

"Do either one of you know of any bird that can lift that weight?"

"No, ma'am."

She turned. "Show me these … 'droplets'."

A few moments later, they had followed the trail to the edge of the canyon and had seen that it didn't continue down into the gorge. Then it occurred to Erica what she had found odd about the crime scene. The arms and legs had been severed with surgical precision. No ragged cut, just clean and straight.

"This is a man-made crime, gentlemen. Somebody with a helicopter landed here and killed this poor man, did the surgery and took off with the body in that direction," pointing to the straight-line evidence going southwest. And Erica didn't like that explanation, either. There was no sign of rotor wash in the area. No drag marks to an awaiting vehicle. Just something that did the deed and quietly, vertically took the body away.

To the southwest.

"Sub-Warden Borkowski, I want you to get me a helicopter here immediately. Sub-Warden Contez, how was the body discovered?"

"Patrol drone, ma'am. This morning at 5:45 a.m."

"You have its code?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Transfer its full flight path for today to the screen in my car. I want to go over it."

"Yes ma'am."

***

Fifteen minutes later, Erica was in her car checking out the drone's record. She set it to 5:30 AM and started to scroll forward to the scene of the crime.

And could find nothing. She did it again and the same result. The drone was focused on the hiking trail and close environs. No sky shots. Scrub, rocks and then a bloody smudge on the ground below. Hearing the rush of air from the helicopter, she closed her screen and went out to greet it. The pilot introduced himself as Captain Donald Jeffries, and asked what she wanted done.

"Captain, how sensitive is the blood scan on this machine?"

"Fairly sensitive, ma'am. Not military grade, but good for what we do."

"Good. I want you to follow a trail heading directly to the southwest. The body was being transported across the canyon, and I'm thinking it might be making a beeline to where the culprit landed."

"Why would somebody do that? There's nothing in that direction."

"You know the area, Captain?"

"Yes, ma'am. I was born on the rez, just north of here about 20 miles. I know the area pretty good."

Erica considered this. "Whatever the case, we'll follow it and see where it leads. You never know."

***

Twenty minutes later, the Captain told her the trail was gone. "Probably bled out, ma'am."

Erica looked ahead to where they had been going. It was a straight line from where they started on the trail to where they were now. And now was pretty spectacular. A thousand shattered canyons tapering off into thousands of box canyons and arroyos.

And no roads.

"Do you know of any people living in this area?" She felt it was a stupid question, but she had to ask it. Cover everything.

"Nobody lives here, ma'am. But Mary Begay runs her sheep near here this time of year. Over by Little Pebble Creek."

"Could we see her?"

"Sure. She should be around her camp somewhere," and he turned the little flier northeast, the electric motor whispering them through the mid-afternoon heat.

He was tired. He had been experiencing new highs. And miracle of miracles, no lows, bliss and completion thriving in him now. The feeling that what he was searching for was close, the perfection of ultimate balance, and coming to that point without wants or regrets. Belly topped up, and everything's alright with the world.

He carefully and almost reverently placed his catch in the cooler. Sometimes he collapsed in his weariness. Sometimes to the point where he couldn't even partake of some of his ritual nibble.

Although his control of anti-gravity was getting more adept, it still took a huge amount of physical effort for him to absorb the maneuverability of the device. He knew it was a service unit and it was not designed to overcome the effects of inertia. He remembered some of the archived pictures that he had seen from Roswell. These were ones kept from the public and they showed that all of the alien bodies in the wrecked ship had severe compression damage. Now it was obvious to him that their drive unit had broken. These pictures had been kept from the general public because at that time they actually did believe that the general populace might panic. But he remembered that he had always wondered, what would it be like to have control of the motive force that had driven that ship? That kind of power? And now that question had been answered, and he once again became aware of the wholeness that had been given to him. Therefore he considered this a gift from a benevolent God and thanked Him for allowing Jacob this precious thing. He was just about, possibly, to attain the perfection of a God himself.

And so, this perfection shall be offered humbly to God, who, Jacob now knew, loved him. Loved him and was now looking closely upon him in his love. Jacob felt exalted. He had been given permission to do the ultimate act. It was time to reveal himself to the world! He was pretty excited.

But first, tidy up.

"Could we do an infrared trace?"

"I've already been doing that ma'am. It runs out."

Erica was annoyed. "How can it run out this soon? The event only happened a few hours ago!"

"It's the wind, ma'am. It practically never stops blowing here."

Erica shook her head. Shit! "Let's find the old woman. Going by the coordinates she must be about 20 miles north of us."

The pilot shrugged "Yes ma'am. I know where she is." He was finding the lieutenant's manner slightly annoying, bordering on rude, in fact. He hoped she would be more politic when she talked to the old woman. He heard Mary Begay could be scratchy.

Ten minutes later they were hovering over a small green area a mile north of the canyon. There was a 'porting pad sitting by a small creek, and a structure that the pilot called a 'hogan' beyond that. No Mary. No sheep.

"Shit! Now what do we do?" Erica was getting impatient with the vastness of the country. As far she could see, there was hardly anybody in it.

She was used to Yellowstone.

The pilot eased the flier down to a patch of ground by the creek.

"She should have a transponder on the pad. She can't be far away."

Erica wondered at that. A transponder? What kind of sheep herder was she?

Now, after landing, she was starting to find out. On closer examination, the 'hogan' was a very modern construct made of Duroc carbon web with solar sheeting for electrical power. A Wilson Panel array for satellite communication and a solar stove for outdoor cooking. No wildfire danger here.

And then Mary Begay stepped out of the teleporter wearing a solar reflective hat and jacket over faded jeans. Traditional moccasins below. She seemed annoyed.

"What are you people doing here? This is Rez territory. Nobody allowed in without a permit."

Erica pulled out her badge and ID. "Were investigating a homicide, ma'am and it may be tied to a couple of missing person cases that have been reported lately. I'd just like to know if you've seen anything out of the ordinary. Something that doesn't fit?"

The woman looked at her. "So you're a cop, then? You don't look like a cop."

"When a crime is committed on park land, it's in my venue, ma'am. I'm talking to you as a government agent seeking information from a civilian. That's all."

Mary looked at the girl. A real tight-ass. Over-trained and probably under-experienced.

"Let's go inside. It's getting hot out here." She had left her sheep in an arroyo three miles north of her camp. That place had a small amount of water with a big sandstone overhang for shade. They'd been sheared for summer, so she wasn't worried about them overheating. But if these two got to be too irritating, she could always use her sheep as an excuse to leave.

Placing a palm on the door-lock, she entered and directed them to sit at her table. "You want something cold?" Without waiting for an answer she went to her cooler and took out three beers and placed them on the table. Captain Jeffries was thinking, should he drink the beer? He was a pilot, after all, and it was against policy. But what the hell, he reached for it. The girl was looking at the bottle, and before she could turn it down, Mary said. "Drink the beer or we don't have any conversation and you can leave."

Erica took a sip and reminded herself that she was on an investigative endeavor and she was required to be friendly with her subject. Then she took a chug. She was thirsty, and by the golden dragon, it was good! Giving a small burp, she asked. "So, Miss Begay. Have you seen anything unusual lately?"

"I'm Mrs. Begay, kid. Husband died six years ago on a fishing trip up in Canada. Some bad water caught him by surprise and he drowned. And, yes. I have seen something unusual lately." She took a swallow of beer. "Something took my ram 10 days ago, and two days after that I saw something in the sky to the south." She took another swallow. "Hell of a thing."

Erica digested that package of information. "What's so unusual about you losing one of your animals, ma'am? That must happen at least once in a while."

Mary looked at her. "You don't really know what I do here, do you?"

"Well, I guess you raise sheep, ma'am."

"I do more than just raise sheep, young lady. I'm a geneticist, and I raise very special sheep."

"How do you mean?"

"My sheep grow up to 600 pounds and only eat ten percent more food than ordinary sheep. Twice the wool and three times the protein. My ram was easily 800 pounds, and there isn't a predator in this part of the country that could've killed him, and he just disappeared into thin air! So I guess you could call that unusual."

Erica would definitely call that unusual. Now it wasn't just a helicopter. It must've been a big helicopter.

"What about the thing in the sky that you saw?"

Mary thought about that. "I couldn't really tell how far away it was, but I would say less than a mile. It kinda floated up and then it floated right back down into the canyon. I got maybe a three-second look at it."

"What did it look like?"

Mary watched closely at both of them before answering. "As far as I can tell, it kind of looked like a man with wings."

Erica didn't know what to say, but the pilot did.

"Really? A man with wings?" He had heard of people with wings before, of course. The kind who jump off cliffs with wing-suits and do a high-speed glide before opening their chutes. But they could hardly be called floating. "Are you sure you should describe it as floating? Maybe more like a quick swoop up and down?"

Mary shook her head. "No. It floated up, paused for a bit and then floated right back down again. You know, like floating." And she made a descriptive gesture with her hand floating up and then floating back down. "Just like that." She took another chug of her beer. "That's all I saw."

Realizing that the woman wasn't much of a talker, Erica asked a few more questions, then she thanked the woman and left.

Later, as they were flying back to the scene of the crime, the pilot asked what she thought of the old woman. Was the geneticist not thinking straight?

Erica thought about that for a moment. "No. She was thinking clear. She saw what she saw. I don't know if it's related to my investigation, but whatever it is she saw, I'll have to investigate it." Erica had been well trained in the science of spotting somebody who was lying. The old woman had given none of those indicators. She was telling the truth. "Are there any people that you know of living in the area beyond the Reservation?"

The pilot nodded. "Easy enough to find out." And he punched some instructions onto his screen. It came back immediately. "Just four dwellings. Two with families and two with, it would seem, recluses. Wait, now. One of them has died some time ago. The other one I know about. He's pretty famous."

Erica was surprised. "Really? Who is that?"

"Jacob Hart."

"The Jacob Hart?"

"Yes."

Erica checked out Jacob Hart's 'port access code. He wasn't listed. Which meant she would need the pilot to transport her there tomorrow. She informed him of that fact and then was silent until they got back to her car. "Pick me up at six o'clock tomorrow morning. I want to talk to Mister Hart before he gets his day going." It was always best to catch a subject early and unaware. It made them more vulnerable to questioning.

***

Later, as she lay in the dusty motel room of her assigned quarters, she was thinking about Jacob Hart. She had wondered what happened to him. He had just dropped off the face of the Earth. No more articles. No more news. Just one blurb that said he had chosen a private spot to retire and live a quiet life with his wealth. No partner and no marriage. That was it.

She was looking forward to the next day.

The next morning had a northwest wind racing streamers of clouds to the east. A busy day of changeable weather with the rare smell of rain. She walked into the cafeteria and experienced her usual lonely breakfast. It was always this way when she was on assignment. She was always the new one, and in this case, the superior officer. Her fellow wardens ignored her and she avoided them. That's the way she liked it.

Coming up to the tarmac, she saw that her pilot and his craft where already there. She was starting to appreciate his professionalism. "So, Captain Jeffries! Is it too windy to fly?"

"No, ma'am. We'll just have to be careful with updrafts from the canyon. I'm used to it."

"You're sure?" She was a bit nervous. She had never done much flying in the kind of light helicopters the Parks used here.

"Yes, ma'am. I know the air around here as well as your average local eagle. Don't have to worry." He was amused.

Getting in, she handed him a cup of coffee and the coordinates for their flight.

"Let's keep our eyes open for a somewhat large helicopter today."

He took the cup. "Something that could lift an 800 pound load?"

"Yes."

"That would be a liquid-fuel machine. Not many of those around."

She nodded. "Just keep your eyes open."

He looked at her. It seemed she'd had a good night's sleep. She looked nice. "Do you want to keep the helicopter all day, or are you going to teleport from Mister Hart's place?"

"No, Captain. I'll keep you and your helicopter. I like the idea of arriving unannounced." It was required to communicate ahead before you used a teleporter, and sometime there were delays because of immediate use.

Thirty minutes later they were at Jacob Hart's residence. The pilot looked around. Pretty barren looking. "There's a telepad there. That's about it."

She looked down. For a wealthy man, not much was showing except for a vent, but the report said he had an underground home, and she assumed the man felt no need for adornment.

"Set us down by the pad."

Stepping out of the copter, she could see no evidence of access. She looked around. There had to be something.

And there was. Off to the left and obscured by some mesquite, a gray steel control panel on a slab of granite schist. She pushed the intercom. "Hello! Is anybody home?"

A moment's pause and then. "Yes, I'm home. Who are you?"

"My name is Erica Chang and I am a lawful representative of the investigative branch of the Parks Board. We would like to ask a few questions, sir, if you don't mind."

Then, without a pause, a reply. "Of course, Inspector. Come on in!" She smiled. It was always nicer when everybody cooperated. The world had gotten really scratchy reacting to the law.

A large slab of sandstone rotated open by their feet.

As they walked down a spiral stairway, Erica detected the supremely pleasant odor of wild Rose. And then, moist cool air as they reached the floor below. Climate control at its best.

"If you don't mind, Inspector Chang, could you please stay standing on the blue mat for a mist decontamination. My house is hypoallergenic." She looked over to see an athletically trim man standing there smiling at them. "I have some minor issues." After a moment he strode forward with his hand outstretched. "I have to say, Inspector, you're fortunate to get hold of me today. I'm a former geologist, and I'm usually out banging rocks by now." He pointed to their shoes. "If you don't mind, could you take those off?" He turned and retrieved some white slippers from a panel to his right. "Sorry to be so fussy."

She looked at him. Very clean and very crisp. Not what she would expect from a dedicated hermit. Also, he smelled like Indian lotus. One of her favorites.

"I'm sorry to bother you, Mister Hart. But we've been having some disturbing events over in the Parks area. I just want to know if you've seen anything out of place recently. Helicopters, for instance?"

"Helicopters?" He was genuinely puzzled.

"Yes. We're looking for something that could lift an 800 pound weight. That is somewhat beyond the payload capacity of an electric rotor. It would have to be a gasoline powered engine and it would be loud."

"Well, yes! I did hear something two nights ago! I was wondering about that! Quite loud!" He turned to them and indicated an alabaster table and chairs beyond the blue mat. "Could I get you some coffee? I just made a pot." Erica didn't move. "No, thank you, sir. We can't be here too long. Were trying to cover a few residences today." She smiled. "I don't mean to be impolite."

"No, no! Quite understandable! Well then. What I heard seemed to be quite far away and to the south. I just got the sound for a few seconds and then the wind took it away." He smiled with the same practiced earnestness that Erica had used. "You know how it is."

And that's when Erica came to the awareness she didn't really like the balance of this man. He was hiding something, and he wasn't very good at it. "Mister Hart? If you don't mind, could I search your premises? Just to cross you off my list?"

Jacob Hart expressed a magnanimous smile. "No, no, not at all. Feel free."

Thanking him, they walked onto the plush and extremely clean white carpet of Jacob Harts home. She was impressed. Looking around, she saw that the man's tastes were minimalist, to say the least. Zen purity at its most pleasingly bleak. A jar here, a twig there, and that was about it. And it didn't seem that the place was all that big, at least what she could see of it. Observing her interest, he said. "I only have eleven rooms here. But this is my favorite residence."

Even though she knew the answer, she asked. "How many residences do you have, Mister Hart?"

"I used to have eight." He gestured them to follow him. "But I just recently sold seven of them and gave the last one away to accommodate a children's orphanage in Bangkok." He stepped aside to reveal an arched opening into his living room. "This is all I have left."

And both Erica and the pilot were stunned. Before them lay a broad curving span of glass stretching fifty feet left to right, displaying a sublime view of the canyon in front of them. The house had been placed perfectly to take in one of the more dramatic views of the gorge, and the long window in front of them perfectly framed it into a moving dynamic of sky, cloud and rock. Spectacular! The man didn't have to decorate his house with anything more than the barest simplicity. The view outside his living room made up for it a thousand times more than any painting or piece of bric-a-brac could have done. "By the great Buddha, Mister Hart! This is amazing! A work of art, to say the least!" She was overwhelmed.

Pleased, he smiled. "Thank you, Inspector. You're very kind." He made a gesture with his hand. "You might like this." And the massive piece of glass slid down to form a four-foot high barrier. "Please. Step up to the edge. You may get a feel for why I'm so enamored of this place." He was enjoying himself immensely in the showing off his house to this beautiful woman. It was a new experience for him.

As she stepped closer and looked down, a feeling of vertigo swept over her. The last six feet of the floor was clear acrylic and she felt she was walking on air. Not even the helicopter made her feel like this.

A little unsteadily, she turned to him. "You have a very beautiful home, Mister Hart. I've never seen anything like it. Really breathtaking!" He looked at her and realized she was sincere. Not ever having shown the place before, he was a little surprised at the pleasure her wonder gave him. "Why, thank you, Inspector Chang. You're very kind." Uncharacteristically, he found himself being sharply affected by her looks. Golden skin. Lustrous hair, unfortunately tied in a bun. He wondered what it would look like spilling over her breasts. And then, for some reason he couldn't fathom, he wondered what it would be like to fly with her.

Noticing his look, she turned the conversation back to the business of her investigation.

"So you're saying that you did hear a sound? And you took it to be a large helicopter?"

. "No, I didn't say I defined it as a helicopter. The sound was too indistinct and too brief. But it was the sound of something mechanical." He shrugged. "That's all I can say."

Erica gave that some thought. She couldn't get rid of the feeling he was attempting to control the conversation, but couldn't see any real reason for it. "Could you show me all of your house, Mister Hart? Just to be thorough."

He smiled. "Do you have a warrant?"

"Do I need one? If I do, I can have one here in five minutes." The Permanent War Measures Act of 2025 had made warrants a small formality.

"Still, Inspector. You need just cause." He was finding the conversation interesting.

"Mister Hart. All I really need, legally, is my own curiosity. And that could turn into a pointed suspicion if this conversation continues."

Smiling, he touched her hand. "I'm not resisting your query, Inspector. I'm just curious." He turned. "Follow me, please. Seeing that you were so impressed with my living room, I wanted to show you the rest of my house anyway." And he led the way to reveal a lavish residence comprised of four bedrooms with bathrooms, a rather complicated gym, and an absolutely world-class kitchen. Again, she was impressed. "Do you like to cook, Mister Hart?"

He sighed. "I used to. Not so much anymore. My tastes have become much simpler. " He turned to her with the hint of a sad smile. "Old age sets its limitations, Inspector."

"But you're not that old, Mister Hart." She knew he was sixty-five. "And I have to say, sir, you seem to be in very good shape."

"You're too kind, Miss Chang. I do try to keep active. So. Now that you've seen the place, are you satisfied?"

She was far from satisfied, but she said. "I am, Mister Hart. We'll be on our way, and thank you for your hospitality. You've been very kind."

"Not at all, Miss Chang. Actually, if I'm not being too bold, I'm wondering if you would like to come and visit on a less formal occasion? There are some new recipes I've been wanting to try, and it would be a true pleasure if you would join me and my guests. I promise you an unforgettable meal."

Surprised, she stammered a bit before answering. "Why, that would be very nice, Mister Hart!" A way to further her investigation perhaps? "But I wouldn't want to put you to any trouble. Are you sure?"

He smiled. "Absolutely! I think it would add to a delightful afternoon! I have it arranged for this coming Sunday."

"Could I give you an answer in a day or two, Mister Hart? I'll know my schedule by them."

He stepped forward and warmly shook her hand. "Of course, Miss Chang. No rush at all. I truly look forward to it!"

And they left on a friendly tone.

* * *

As they boarded the helicopter, the pilot turned to her. "Well? Cross him off the list?"

She was quiet for a moment and then said. "No. I don't think so."

Surprised, he asked why.

"Didn't you smell it?"

"What? I didn't smell anything."

"Bleach. I smelled bleach at the big window. Very subtle, but it was there."

"So? He likes to keep the place clean."

"That's the other thing. He doesn't have any hired help. Not even a robot. He's a rich man in a huge house and he cleans it himself? It doesn't make sense. And why bleach? That chemical is a forensic eradicator. You couldn't smell it and that probably means he couldn't either. I've been trained to detect odors, and bleach is one of the more common ones that we are taught to recognize. He's been cleaning up some bad stuff. I know it."

The pilot lifted the flier into the air and headed into the canyon. "And you're thinking of having lunch with him? Doesn't that worry you?"

She thought about that. And then. "Not really, Captain. Not at all." She turned to him and smiled. "You have to understand, Donald, I really am very well-trained."

He looked at her. "I bet you are, Erica. I bet you are."

* * *

And back on his balcony, Jacob Hart watched the little helicopter winging its way to the southeast. He was still feeling the flush of excitement of getting to meet the woman. He was surprised at his boldness. He had always been chronically shy with females, but with her, he felt a release of emotion that he had never experienced before. It probably had a lot to do with him becoming a hunter. A raptor. Yes. That was it! He had turned into a conqueror! He flexed his arms and fingers, feeling their strength. It was about time.

And then he frowned. He could see that the pilot wanted her too. It was stupidly apparent that he lusted after her, and Jacob sensed that Erica Chang reciprocated some of that feeling. And that angered Jacob. The pilot was competition, and that was unacceptable. And he, Jacob Hart, had found a new way to handle unacceptable things.

He turned to the wall beside him and clapped his hands to open the hidden door. She had been situated only a few feet from his trophy room and it had given him a thrill bordering on sexual arousal when he watched her standing that close to it. He knew she would probably be impressed by how good a provider he was, under the right circumstances, of course. And it had been hard work, too. Not hard to lift and carry, but hard to dress out the prize in an aesthetically pleasing way. Especially the ram. He had just kept the head, and it was now ceremoniously mounted on the wall right alongside the torso of the athletic young man from the park. The enclosure was quite large and there was definitely room for more, but it was time now to take a pause and arrange the whole room for exposition. Because he could see now it was time to show his art, and dining with the beautiful Miss Chang would be the absolutely right moment for it. A shuddering spasm of excitement coursed through his body as that exquisite scene formulated in his mind. God! How he loved his life! The life of a perfectly balanced hunter! Once again he visualized her body and her long black hair caressing her breasts. She would be a perfect mate for him.

He wondered if she could cook. Probably. But first, a little problem should be taken care of.

The pilot admitted to himself that, yes, it probably wasn't professional, but he thought the Inspector was a damn fine-looking woman. Damn fine. It wouldn't bother him a bit if this case took some time. Getting used to being around her would definitely be a privilege. Definitely.

His thoughts turned to the events of the day. They had seen a total of five residences and they were all pretty pricey, but nothing that could equal Jacob Hart's place. All the other places were nice and normal as far as he could see. Nice people just tucked away with their money, but the Hart guy was weird. The pilot couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort he had over the man. Miss Chang felt the same, he was sure. Besides relating to him her suspicions, he got the distinct impression that beneath her professionalism was a lady just as creeped out about the guy as he was. He adjusted the trim on his copter to compensate for a brisk side-wind. He could see the weather kicking up from a few ominous cumulonimbus clouds to the north of him. Weather could change quickly around here.

Then he saw something in his line of sight that he found very difficult to grasp. It was Jacob Hart pacing him, 100 feet in front of the helicopter. He was going backwards and looking at the pilot with a cheery smile on his face.

He was carrying a large rock.

And then he rose up and repositioned himself right above the pilot's helicopter. Looking up, the Lieutenant could see that the man, still smiling, now pushed the rock down toward him. It seemed to move slowly at first and then it snapped into high velocity and hit his rotor blades. The first thought that the pilot had was, oddly enough, 'you don't see that every day'. His last few moments of free-fall was not of fear, but of wonderment.

You really don't see that every day!

Jacob watched with cheery satisfaction as the flier floated delicately to the canyon floor. Then it and the captain disappeared in a high-intensity flash of light from the exploding helicopter batteries. Jacob congratulating himself on his accuracy. Those bowling lessons he took in his youth were finally paying off.

God, this was fun!

It was five o'clock in the morning, and she was cold. Northern winds had dipped into the desert, and two months after summer she was appreciating the cool. Being cold these days was kind of a luxury.

She was standing by the helipad and wondering what was keeping her Captain? The punctual man? She turned as she heard a person calling her name. It was one of the guards from the office.

"Pardon me, Miss Chang? We just got some bad news!"

And for some reason, Erica felt a hollow feeling in her stomach.

"What?"

The guard was a woman in her early forties and was, unfortunately, used to this.

"Inspector, I'm sorry …"

And somehow, Erica was not surprised when she heard the woman say, "Captain Jeffries has been killed in an accident, ma'am."

She stepped toward the woman. "What happened?"

"He was killed when his flier went down in the canyon."

"Where?"

"Only about three miles south of here. It must've happened just after he left."

Now Erica sat back in her chair, stunned.

After a moment she looked up and said, "Bring me in another helicopter. I'll fly it myself."

"Ma'am?"

"I said I'll fly it myself! The pilot can stay on base."

The guard looked at her. She could see that the inspector was tense and angry. She wasn't sure that was a good thing. "Are you sure, ma'am? You're not familiar with the canyons. It's not easy flying and well, you know, they can be tricky."

Erica gave the woman a sharp look. "I've been accredited, Sergeant. I'm capable."

After a pause the woman nodded and said, "Of course, Inspector." She turned. "I'll get one coming now."

Erica nodded. "There's no immediate hurry. I won't be leaving until one o'clock this afternoon."

"Yes, ma'am."

***

Walking back to her quarters, Erica saw a large two-bladed helicopter heading into the canyon south of her. Obviously a recovery team. Big enough to bring back the broken remains from the crash site. She was seething. She didn't know why for sure, but she felt it so strongly she knew she had to be right. Jacob Hart had something to do with this. Because Erica had assimilated overnight all the little quirks and clues of the man and had concluded that there was something deeply wrong with him. Something way off key. And now this. Why couldn't she have formulated that feeling into action yesterday? She was so slow! She had known there was something wrong! Fuck!

Calming herself, she presented her clearance to the computer and walked into the armoury and retrieved two small, but very powerful, weapons, a forty-five caliber derringer and a compact hundred-thousand-volt taser. Both would fit in her purse without being noticed. She assumed that Jonah Hart wouldn't have metal detectors in his house.

Jacob had just stepped out of the shower and was vigorously rubbing himself down in front of the large window looking at the canyon below. Other than a brisk wind, the air was clear, and right in front of him, a hundred feet out, was a Peregrine. The kind that he always felt to be the most beautiful of his little brothers. A good sign. Maybe a flight was in order. He turned as his communicator rang. Still looking out the window, he asked. "Yes? Who is it?"

"It's me, Mister Hart."

Pleased, he turned to face the screen. "Miss Chang! How delightful! I didn't expect you to call so soon." She didn't seem to mind his nudity. Of course not. He had a beautiful body.

"I hope I'm not inconveniencing you, Mister Hart, but I'm off this afternoon and thought I would take you up on your offer?" He hadn't made any attempt to cover himself. Then she noticed red marks around his ankles. Odd. "I could wait until Sunday, if you want."

"No, no, Miss Chang. No need for that! If you don't mind dining with me, I would be absolutely delighted to have you here!" He reached for his robe to cover his loins. God! This woman excited him! "What would be a good time for you?"

"That would be up to you, Jacob. I have my own vehicle now, so just tell me when to be there."

"Well, Erica. How nice! But you don't have to fly here. I'll give you my port number. How about three o'clock, and we can eat at five? That gives me time to whip up something special."

She was a bit surprised. To give a transport access code in this early stage of a personal interaction was extremely off the social norm. "I'll be there at three, then, Jacob. Thank you so very much."

"My pleasure, Erica. Absolutely my pleasure, but are you sure you're not setting aside some business?" He was wondering if the remains of Captain Jeffries had been discovered yet. He hoped not. He didn't want this beautiful woman to be distracted by events she might consider to be unpleasant. He wanted her full attention.

"Not at all, Jacob. Nothing for me to do until tomorrow." And she cut the connection.

Jacob twirled about as he flung off his robe and did a little victory dance. He decided to forgo his usual morning masturbation and save himself for his inevitable victory over Miss Chang. Boy! Was she going to be surprised when she saw him in his full glory! And then it occurred to him. Sex in the air! My God! Why hadn't he thought of that before!

This was going to be so much fun.

Now, more than ever, she was thinking there was something off about the man, It had nothing to do with his nudity, of course. Society had forsaken whether to wear clothes or not some time ago. The planet had stabilized, but it was still warm. In the rising heat, clothes had become optional.

Now her thoughts turned to how she should approach this communication with him. He was breezy and glib, but not once did he look her directly in the eyes. And he had a habit of placing his right hand above his collar bone and touching his throat. Although it looked a little effeminate, it wasn't. It was protective. She also noticed that just before he put his robe on, he was starting to get an erection. Which could, possibly, denote a hypersensitive reaction to outside stimuli. Bordering on hysteria.

To her mind, this added up to an unstable, possibly psychotic, mentality.

She turned to her screen and dialed in her superior officer, Captain Frank Tzu. If her afternoon social with Mister Hart turned into a confrontation, she wanted back up for live capture. Everything of the afternoon would be recorded on her button camera and she had the authority to kill Jacob Hart on site if he made a verbal confession, but she had only done that once before and it was an uncomfortable thought to her. Besides, there might be people who would object to her killing the richest man in the world. Better to bring him in.

"Hello, Erica. How is it going for you there?" Captain Tzu was speaking his native Mandarin. "Have you found anything interesting about the case yet?"

"Yes, sir. I have a suspect whose name is Jacob Hart."

He put down his cup. "Really? The Jacob Hart?"

"The very same, sir. He showed psychopathic reaction patterns while I was interviewing him. I get the feeling he's more than a bit unstable. He hides it well, but I'm sure if you were here you'd see the same thing."

"What's the purpose of your call? "

She thought about that.

"If I come to the conclusion he's involved in this case, then I want to bring him in. I want to ensure a live capture, sir. I'd like some backup."

"Of course, Erica. Is that it?"

"Just make sure it gets here by noon. Is that alright?"

"Of course. Not to worry. I'll even come along myself."

"Really, sir? There's no need. I …"

"Erica, I'll be there. I'll handle the backup. This is an important man, and this situation has to be handled just right. You understand?"

"Yes sir." She paused. "I appreciate your help, Sir."

"Good. Now what are the entrances to his house?"

"Just one transporter inside his house. He has an inaccessible balcony on the side of the cliff and a secure surface access."

The Colonel gave that some thought. "Did you see any tech on the surface? Radar or infrared?"

"No, sir. Just a simple entry pad."

"Good. What time will you be there, exactly?"

She checked her watch.

"I'll be there by two, sir. That was the point in time Mister Hart had suggested."

"Good. I'll be established there on point. You make entry and record enough evidence for me to make a move with my group, and that will be that."

"Very good sir. I'll see you then."

And she was left alone with her thoughts. The Colonel was a man of action, and in some cases that had caused problems. This may be one of them. This also may be one of those times that required subtlety. She sighed. Too late now. She had just lost control of her investigation.

He looked at her on the screen. She was wearing something close-fitting and comfortable-looking. She looked good. She was dialing his 'port number and didn't know he was watching.

His green touch-pad light came on. After a few more moments of watching her, he touched the pad. "Miss Chang! So happy to see you! Come on over!" And he double tapped the pad. Turning to his left, he watched the 'port receiver, and twelve seconds later she appeared. She was smiling.

"Well, Jonah! This is …"And she stopped. His 'port was in his bedroom. It was extremely neat. "… very nice."

"Thank you, Erica. Sorry about the bedroom entry. I have ports all over the world and sometimes I like to wake up and take a dip at some beaches that I own. My entryway port has gotten to be a little glitchy. I just thought it better to come through here."

Of course his entryway port was just fine. He just wanted to see what she looked like in his bedroom, and again, she looked good.

"That's all right, Jacob. It's really quite stunning."

And it was. A somewhat smaller replica of his living room window arcing out from the foot of the bed into the broad view of the canyon below. Again, the acrylic clear base of the floor lending the illusion of air.

He looked at her more closely. Not easily discomfited. In fact, not at all. Not that he thought his boudoir was all that startling, but the juxtaposition of an expected entry into his house to this more intimate portal should've made her react somewhat. She did not. He didn't know whether to be charmed or suspicious. He decided to be both.

"Can I take your shawl, Miss Chang?"

He placed himself so that she was standing between him and his bed.

"Thank you, Jacob." With some appreciation, she looked around the man's room as she took off her cover.

"I see that you have an appreciation of the masters, Mister Hart."

She could see a priceless collection of Impressionism and a broad spectrum of Masters from the past. She was impressed, and he was impressed watching her take off her shawl with his bed in the background. He could feel himself getting aroused.

"I hope you like Hanchow cooking, Miss Chang. I've been developing my skill in it for some years now. I feel I have progressed."

"Please, Jacob. Call me Erica. I love Hanchow."

She preferred Mandarin, but Hanchow was good. If you could do it right. Not too likely. She had never seen a white person cook Chinese food properly.

"I noticed that all of your artwork is in your bedroom, Jacob."

The rest of the house was white with bare walls.

"Yes, I like to lie in bed as the sun comes up and shows me my collection. I feel they are presenting themselves to me."

She turned to him and smiled. "How sweet, Jacob. It must be a wonderful feeling."

"Yes, I suppose."

He was starting to feel a strong urge to tell her his 'wonderful feeling' would feel so much more wonderful if he could have her beside him in that bed. Careful. Careful. Even though he had found some time ago that his money could buy him anything, that 'anything' was never real. He had been offered sex in all its varieties and had never felt attracted to any side road or aberration into the fantasies of the human psyche. It just seemed to be an indulgent quirk that some humans adhered to to validate their own existence. To him, it was all shallow and cheap. But here, he was meeting with a new reality of the human attitude toward life. This woman was special. He could feel it deep in his soul that this person in front of him right now had the ability to truly understand him. He shivered with that thought.

This was noticed by Erica. Something was affecting him at this moment. Then she realized it was her. And so, guided by her training, she turned her mental abilities to the control and enforcement of that control to her subject, Jacob Hart. She turned and walked into the living room. "Could you give me an ounce or two of single malt, Jacob? It's been an exhausting week and I need to relax."

A little surprised at her abruptness, he turned and walked over to his cabinet.

"Do you prefer any particular label, Erica? I have a good collection."

Moving over to a white sofa, she sat down, her arms spread comfortably over the back. "Whatever cost the most, Jacob." She smiled. "I like it older and mature, if you have it. It's hard to get these days."

He looked at her. She was panther-like in her movements. Slim muscular arms tapering into long fingers. Blood-red fingernails. She looked dangerous.

"I have a 40-year-old Cragenmore I think you might like." She should. It had cost him over 20,000 pounds.

He poured two snifters and walking over, handed her the drink.

"Could I ask you a somewhat personal question, Miss Chang?"

She looked up at him and saw that he was experiencing some actual curiosity.

"Of course, Jacob. As long as you don't go to extremes." She smiled.

"No, no! Erica! I was just wondering if you've trained in a kung fu of any style? Your body seems to be specifically toned that way."

She nodded and took a sip of her drink. Very smooth. Very good. "Do you do it yourself, Jacob?"

"Well, yes and no. I haven't done it for many years. I suppose you keep at it now for your military requirements? You know, part of the job?"

"Exactly." She leaned forward. "But I find it fun, too. It's important to me."

He glanced down to the world between her breasts. A slight hint of delicate breastbone residing between two ivory orbs. Their mystery cruelly cut off by the satiny borders of a loose, black dress.

"How much attachment do you have to the administrators? Did being Chinese help you get the job? Lots of competition to be a park warden these days."

She looked at him. She didn't want to talk about that business. It was private and she wasn't here for that. "Do you own any helicopters, Jacob?"

"Yes, of course. Why?" Odd question.

"Where are they?"

Puzzled, he answered, "All over the world. Why?"

He knew why. Still on the job.

"Are any of them nearby? Liquid fuel?"

"Am I still under suspicion, Erica?"

She shook her head. "Not really. Just tidying up a point or two."

"I understand. And, no, I have nothing like that anywhere near here." He got up. "Make yourself comfortable and enjoy the view." He waved to the viewpoint in his living room. "We're going to have a beautiful sunset this evening."

When he was gone, she touched her necklace."Are you getting this?"

"Yes. We're ten men; four men to rappel into the front view point, the rest of us to go in the stairway entrance as soon as it's open."

Captain Tzu wasn't taking any chances. This had to be a live capture.

Picking up her drink, she walked barefoot over the cool tile of the floor to the viewing portico. The patterns of the monolithic rock spanning into the distance now drew her to their beauty, the Sun starting to slant, and casting even more complexity to the shadowed strength of rock and sky.

And she felt regret. Regret that there would soon be unpleasantness introduced to this beauty. Jacob Hart had made a place here that was separated from a damaged world. She couldn't even imagine the money it must've taken for him to be ensconced in such an isolated and private sanctuary. Alone, but surrounded by power and security.

And she was pretty sure she was about to take him away from all that.

And then, in front of her, the glass barrier of the acrylic window dropped down to floor level. Alarmed, she stepped back and was stopped by two strong hands on her shoulders. Which turned her to face an apparition that flooded her with horror. Bulging eyes, fiber wings and two evil looking contraptions on the feet that looked like steel bear traps.

And it was floating a foot above the floor.

She screamed as it shoved her back over the edge of the parapet. And as she fell screaming to the canyon floor, the figure followed her down and she saw that the thing was smiling. It was Jacob.

Chapter 15

Captain Tzu was watching on his monitor, and was startled by the sudden turn of events, and then horrified when he realized Sgt. Chang had just been pushed backwards into the abyss. At the same moment, one of his men on the rappel shouting to him that she was falling. Helpless, he watched as she plummeted toward the canyon floor. And then was astounded at a half-naked figure plunging down to her and grabbing her. What was this? A murder-suicide?

And then something very strange happened, a moment in time that the captain never forgot. The two falling bodies stopped moving. Just like that, with Erica's scream fading off the canyon walls below. He couldn't move as he listened to the conversation from Erica's transponder.

Chapter 16

He looked at her. Feeling the warm suppleness of her body as she clung to him. Eyes wide in fear. Then he saw her recognition that they weren't falling.

"Jacob! What … what is happening? How did …?"

He pulled her even closer, wrapping his wings around her. Then he whispered secretively into her ear as he kissed it. "I have antigravity, Erica. I've had it for some time now."

Looking up over his shoulder, she saw the four troopers hanging on the cliff above the big view window. She could smell his body sweat mixed in with some citrus odor. She relaxed. It was really quite nice. The smell, the sensation of floating, the heat of his body. The body of a murderer.

"You killed those people, didn't you, Jacob?"

He pulled back and removed his strange eyes.

"You even killed Mary Begay's animals."

He Shrugged. "Not animals, Erica. Just that one ram. I wanted to see how much weight I could carry." His smile was ecstatic. "But never mind that. Come fly with me!"

And he took her hand and swooped into a low dive toward the river below. Erica, again terrified, and then being exhilarated by the flight, as any human would be.

And they dipped, they soared. They flew together like two swooping hawks in the perfect unison of the mating flight. For every move he made, she made with him through the union of their hands. And in that movement, that glory, he fell deeply and remarkably in love with her. He had finally reached perfection, and now he had to communicate that to her. To show that he was worthy of her beauty and she of his.

And then he looked up and back and saw four men on the roof of his house. And now, sadly, the awareness of the betrayal and actuality of this beautiful woman in his arms.

Again, he realized his innocence in this world.

Not talking now, he carried her back up to the balcony of his house and, glancing at the men on the cliff edge above. he entered and placed Erica down, saying, "You shouldn't be here."

She turned away from him. "You shouldn't have killed that man, Jacob. I wouldn't be here otherwise."

"Really, Erica? You would've turned down the beauty of flying with me? Are you sure?"

A pause. Then she turned back to face him. The derringer pointed at his heart. Him wondering where she had carried that.

"No, Jacob. I'm not sure."

She had his confession now, and she could legally shoot him. She was wondering why she didn't. She watched while he removed his paraphernalia.

"Don't make a wrong move here, Jacob. I'm saving your life."

"Really? After the freedom I've known, you're going to lock me away? Don't you think I prefer death?"

Nervous now, she stepped back. "That's not my problem, Mr. Hart. You did murder, and the law says …"

He approached her and said quietly,"Do you really think I care what the law says, Erica?"

"Don't come any closer, Jacob! I don't want to kill you!"

Then, behind him, she saw the two troopers rappelling down onto his balcony with guns drawn. "Jacob! Don't make a move! You're an instant away from death!"

Now the captain's voice was in her ear, shouting, "Don't kill him! We need him!"

Jacob casually turned and lifted his hand toward the men as Erica dropped her aim to shoot his knee. But before she could pull the trigger the gun flew out of her hand and seemed to stick itself to Jacob's body, as did the other two machine guns from the men outside.

Jacob held one of the machine guns as the other weapons fell off of his body.

Then he shot the soldiers and watched as they fell screaming to the canyon bottom below. He turned and pointed the rifle at her. "Go to the bedroom."

"What?"

"I said, go to the bedroom. Some bad things are going to happen now and I don't want you here." He smiled. "I'm saving your life."

"Jacob, You're outnumbered. The captain will be calling in reinforcements, and in twenty minutes there's going to be over a hundred troops out there, and they've already shut down your teleporter! You can't escape! "

"Really? We'll see. Now go to the bedroom." Marching her to the teleporter there, he punched in some coordinates and shoved her inside. "I hope you like palm trees."

"Wait! They've shut down the teleporter. That's standard procedure."

"This is my own special unit, Erica. It will take them at least another forty minutes before they can shut it down. " He punched the button. "I'll meet you there."

And she was gone.

Turning to his wall-safe, he keyed in the code and opened it up.

Taking out the sealed package there, he laid it on the bed and unwrapped it.

And there it was. The alien gun. Sleek and deadly looking. A button on the pistol grip Instead of a trigger. He had never been sure that he would use it one day, but secretly he always hoped he would find a reason.

He picked it up.

It didn't feel as heavy as it looked, but it felt as if it had been made just for him. Which was surprising, considering the difference in palm-size between him and the alien.

He hefted it and swung it around the room. It felt good in his hand. He had never fired it because he didn't know whether it was just a one-shot device or how much damage it would do. By the alien's reaction to it, he assumed it to be quite deadly. He looked up to where the troops must be amassing by now. The instrument in his hand easily deadly enough to take care of these baby soldiers above him.

Reentering his transporter, he dialed in the coordinates that would place him on a receiver pad about one hundred feet north-east from his entry portal above.

Chapter 17

Worried, Captain Tzu had watched the action taking place. He had come to the realization that Jacob Hart had some alarming abilities. But he also realized that those abilities were limited in range. When the man had marched his captive back to the interior of the house, Captain Tzu had noticed that other metallic objects hadn't moved. Not the kitchen knives, nor any other metal object in the area, of which there were a few.

He figured the range to be about ten feet, maximum.

Now he deployed a twenty-man firing team above the man's escape opening to the canyon. He hoped the man wouldn't try to escape that way. For obvious reasons, he wanted the man alive. Who knew what other little scientific surprises he might have? But he would kill him if he had to. What if he escaped to the Conjoined States of South America? The CSSA? That evil empire had already overrun Texas and New Mexico and parts of California. If they had this antigravity thing, that could easily tip the balance in their favour, and the United States of North America would be overrun, right to its northern border in the Arctic Circle. Christ! The conquered Canuckian provinces would probably even help them! The man below them in this bunker had to be stopped and contained. At all costs!

And then the captain had an idea.

He turned to his radioman.

"Contact base and tell them I want a cargo net out here, now!"

That was the only way he could think of to save the man's life. If he escaped that, then the flying man would be shot. That would not look good on Captain Tzu's resume. Snare him with a net and haul him in like a flying fish. The way to go.

And then he heard Jacob Hart's voice behind him.

"Hello there! Are you Erica's boss?" Jacob felt amused. The authorities in front of him were completely unprepared to see him. They probably had put their scanners over the area. But Jacob had many unrevealed articles. Never show your whole hand.

"I'm sorry I have to do this, Captain Tsu. I had hoped that our introduction into this technology could have been done with fewer complications."

The captain nodded. It had definitely got into the complications stage. "Mr. Hart, I really think the best thing for you right now would be just to stand down before anybody else gets hurt. This has to be resolved peacefully."

"What about the men killed?" Jacob was curious.

"Casualties of a situation, Mr. Hart. I can't say it was your fault. In fact, it was more likely mine. None of this resolves on you. I can assure you, the embarrassment is mine, not yours."

Jacob felt that was fair, but he didn't feel like standing down, as the captain put it. "Captain? I'm going to let you walk away. You do that, then you save your men's lives and your own."

"And what will you do, Mr. Hart? You know I have to take you into custody. I have no choice. I have my orders."

Jacob knew that was true. It was common knowledge about what happened to park wardens if they failed their mission. Exiled to the frigid climes of the northern Canadian states. He had heard the temperature could plummet to freezing up there. He didn't doubt the man's determination.

And because he was curious about the weapon and what it would feel like to do what he was about to do, he said, "Goodbye, Captain Tzu."

And he pressed the button on his gun.

And nothing happened.

He pressed it again.

Same thing.

Panicky now, he turned around to step on his trans-pad, but found he couldn't move. It felt like his feet were cemented to the earth!

"Mr. Hart! You are outnumbered, sir!"

The captain saw his helicopter coming up from the west with cargo nets hanging from it. Good! And it didn't look like the device that Hart was holding was doing anything. Not threatening at all.

He ordered his men to move in.

Jacob swung around and pointed what he still thought of as a weapon at the enclosing troops. Then he pressed the trigger button again.

And his body became even more rigid. And then, colder.

Captain Tzu now realized that something strange was happening to the man. He had become frozen in position. Seeing that the so-called weapon was now pointing to the sky, he quickly moved forward to grab Jacob's arm.

He couldn't. When his hand started to approach the device, he felt like he was dipping it into freezing oil. And then he too couldn't move.

Now Jacob couldn't feel his legs, with that feeling rising up to his belly and chest. Then his arms going numb and cold.

And now feeling his consciousness fading and going dim.

And then Jonathan Hart was no more. Just a small globe of energy going somewhere he had never been beore.

Horrified, Captain Tzu pulled his arm back and watched the figure of Jacob Hart turning into a shining metallic statue that started to vaporize into a cascade of falling crystals, until there was nothing left. Just a small mound of quickly shrinking, shining sand.

Even in his amazement, the captain couldn't help thinking how beautiful it was. He turned to his men.

"Can anybody tell me what the fuck just happened?" He was a bit overcome.

And many distances away, including one interdimensional, an alarm had sounded. The tall spire that held the alarm was vibrating with the urgency of the bell inside of it. The local star was shining brilliantly overhead as the being stopped to hear the tones coming through the atmosphere. A lost unit had been found! And then, its excitement dimmed. It was not a completely irregular occurrence. Every 30 or 40 cycles something like this happened. Just enough to keep you on all ten of your spectrums. Seeing as how she was the only one in the area, she decided to handle the formalities herself. She transmitted to the tower.

Now inside, she floated over to the blue crystal that had received the signal, and sent the pulse into it that fully activated it. Then she waited as it did the information retrieval. After a few moments, the data scrolled off informing her that the unit was a 253T class XII drone. One of the older and outdated avatar units used for intergalactic exploration. The information came that it had been carrying an undelivered message.

She read the message and was a little surprised. The message had been sent to the general area commander of the assigned planet, saying that the populace had to be readjusted by a certain date. The being checked the date and saw that it was long overdue. Further information revealed that the local species needed to have their civilization reduced to the preindustrial because they were not ready for interstellar contact. A thing they were on the verge of, because they had just discovered a primary base camp on the far side of the local moon.

The Being realized that by now that species would have thoroughly investigated the base.

Concerned, the being floated over to the outside ramparts and looked up at the towering crystal blue mountains of Polon-dis.

That species would've have now realized, with ample proof, that they were not alone, and looking at the data, the creature realized it was far too soon for them to have that knowledge. Its mass dimmed slightly in thought. There were only two solutions. Eradication, or more likely, re-education. Again, too soon, but a solution more in line with the general nature of her species.

She relaxed. It was up to the Council, and it wasn't her job to worry anyway. Unfortunate as it was, these things did tend to work out. She prepared to transmit herself to the far side of the planet. She was curious as to how her peers would handle this.

Should be fun.

THE END

Bio: I've been self-employed since I was 16. I do portraits and am a widower with three daughters who probably love me more than I'm worth. No pets. I am retired and I live in a camper by the Similkameen River in British Columbia, Canada and I'm developing a relationship with a good woman to whom I have pretty well revealed all my faults. She doesn't seem to mind. I'm a man of calm demeanor with a good sense of humour. I have a carefully completed fantasy trilogy and five short stories that I have compiled into one book. I would describe my stories as being a futuristic rustic adventure with a bit of magic or a smidgen of an alternate reality.

E-mail: F.J. Stewart

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