Hey there,

Well I finally finished it, I guess. This takes up where Primary Access left off -- oh like a year ago or something.

Disclaimers:

Geiar, Martin, and the bit players who only have like two lines anyway belong to me. We know who everyone else belongs to, unfortunately.

Rating: probably a PG -- PG -13 for some violence and one hellatious medical test.

Other than that I hope y'all enjoy. Comments, criticisms, suggestions are always welcome.

Jen

By Jenna.

Paul leaned into the doorway fanning a couple of pages in the air before him, but he was ignored. He looked toward the floor where Harrison sat meditating and shook his head. Waste of time, Paul thought silently. "I've got something for you." he said, waving the pages again. Harrison was unmoved. "It's important," Paul added, already tired of playing this game. He walked into the office and stood behind Harrison who was still seated and silent.

"Will you wake up already?" Paul was out the door when Harrison begin to stir and he was forced to chase the colonel down in the hallway.

"What is it?" he asked, trying to get a look at the papers in Paul's hand. "What's going on?"

"I just thought you'd be interested in that request of yours. "

"You got an answer?" Harrison reached for the pages, and glanced over them. Impatient with muddling through the details of the requisition he turned back to Paul. "What did they say?"

"Ah, well, there's a few snags. . ."

"Snags?" He looked down at the pages in his hand. "Wait a minute, this is for a machine. . ." Harrison said. Paul's face didn't register a reaction. "I don't need another computer, I'm trying to get Geiar to handle this."

"Read it again," Paul suggested.

"Equipment: Gynecoid Enhanced Information Access Relay," Harrison read aloud. "Information access relay? What is that?" He looked over at Paul for an explanation. "It sounds like some kind of routing device - or maybe a translator? How is that going to solve our problem?" He studied the words again then stopped dead. Slowly he raised a finger to the page and rested it over the first letter of each word. "I'll be damned," he said.

"Clever, isn't it?" Paul replied. "We have to go out there to pick her up . . . "

"That's not a problem," Harrison answered, not waiting to hear the rest of the sentence before reaching for the closest telephone to make arrangements.

". . .And sign for her." Paul waited in vain for a response from the astrophysicist. When he was met with a look of strained tolerance, he continued. "She's listed in their property book --As equipment -- We need to sign her out before they'll release her from the facility." Paul watched the telephone receiver slip from Harrison's hand.

Life had been good for the last seven months, and except for the always present schedule of tests and procedures, Geiar had come to start calling this place home. To anyone that asked, the Center for Parabiological Studies was a lightly funded organization studying human adaptations to their environment; physical and otherwise. It's goal was to help create more effective working and living spaces. In reality it was part of an invisible arm of the DOD. This was one of those places that silently fed the military a steady supply of tactical aces up their sleeve. A gageteer's dream come true, it wasn't unusual to find Geiar roaming the hallways in search of something new or interesting that was being developed. And for the most part the engineers tolerated her curiosity. After all, she was just as interesting a gadget as anything they were working on, and far more attractive.

5:30. Half an hour before Martin shows up, Geiar sighed She paced in her room. It was small compared to what she had in the arcology but much cozier. Since she was one of the few permanent residents in the facility, many of the engineers pitched in to help make the place look a little better than government issue. It was decorated dormitory style with things she 'borrowed' from other places in the compound. They wouldn't be missed, she reasoned, and at least in her room they'd be enjoyed. That's how she ended up with a homemade lava lamp, courtesy of the guys in the chemistry labs, and a modest collection of office nameplates. Geiar was proud of her nameplates. She had meticulously drilled out each letter on the plates then assembled them into a nice collection of luminarias which dotted her window sills. They had been Christmas decorations, but she decided to keep them up after the holidays ended. At night, a short strand of Christmas lights threaded through each one made the letters glow.

"I hate Wednesdays," she told her bookshelf as she looked for some suitable music to fill the silence of the next 30 minutes. Soon, Mozart filled the room as she dropped onto her bed and brought her arms up to cover her eyes. It wasn't long until Geiar found her mind wandering to lush, exotic places and she wished her body could follow. In the background, she heard the creak of her door opening followed by some quiet footsteps. "You're early, Martin, It's not six yet." A breathy laugh passed through the air but she didn't bother to open her eyes. "What do you say we just blow this place and take the next plane to Tahiti?"

"I was thinking California." Geiar's eyes popped open, that was definitely not Martin's voice, "The northern part, southern California is just too intense." She craned her head to the side and saw a stranger standing there. Her jaw dropped as she sat up and stared at her visitor. "Maybe something by the ocean? Kind of out of the way?" Harrison smiled as her face lit up. Immediately, Geiar jumped from her bed and raced to him, only to hesitate just before they were close enough to embrace. A nervous laugh escaped her as she tried to figure out what to do. Instead, Harrison reached for her and drew her into his arms. He bent over as if to kiss her, but she quickly turned her head, forcing him to merely buss her cheek.

"What are you doing here?" Geiar asked, after she pulled away. Her eyes darted across his face. The broad grin, the bright, smiling eyes, it was definitely him but she still couldn't believe he was actually in her room.

Harrison grinned boyishly. "So this is home, huh? Nice digs." He left Geiar standing in the middle of the room while he wandered around studying various artifacts of her life. Gravitating to her stereo, he lifted the empty jewel case and read its contents. "Interesting selection. What else do you have?" With that he started nosing around, reading titles and commenting.

Geiar was confused, "Harrison did you come here to inspect my music collection?"

He looked over at her, still smiling, "no, why?"

"Then what are you doing here?" He held up a case for her inspection. Its cover had a rich blue background and a woman dressed in gold under a title in foreign writing. "Protopsaltis." Geiar explained walking toward him.

"Greek?" He asked, and Geiar nodded. Harrison was amused, "I like Greek music. I don't understand it, but I like it."

"Oh well then I'll just have to let you listen to it sometime," she said, then stopped. "Wait a minute, we're talking like we just saw each other yesterday. Harrison, what are you doing here?"

"You mean you're not glad to see me?" He put the jewel case down and looked at Geiar, his face a reflection of disappointment and forced innocence. His eyes, however, were still smiling.

"I didn't say that, but . . ." Just then her door opened again and Paul walked through followed closely by Martin, a tall, young man with thick dark hair and a friendly face, who was wearing the requisite white lab coat and carrying a clipboard.

"I see you have guests today," he said brightly. Geiar nodded as she watched Paul approach. She met him and introduced the two men to her waiting tech.

"Maybe you can explain what's going on?" Geiar said to Paul as more of a demand rather than a suggestion. She shot a sideways glance at Harrison who had finally abandoned his musical inquisition and was standing beside her again.

Paul nodded his head, "It can wait, though. Right now I think you're needed." Geiar looked over at Martin who was waiting patiently near the doorway. He smiled as if to apologize.

Geiar sighed, "I know, we have a date." She winked at Martin playfully as the statement caught Harrison's attention. "I'm sorry to do this to you guys, but I can't get out of it."

"We understand," Paul was answering when Harrison reached past him.

"Wait. Where are you going?" He asked, daring to lay a hand on her shoulder as if to stop her from leaving.

"I have some things to take care of, that's all," she explained, enigmatically. Harrison pushed for details. "It's just a test, but it's going to take the rest of the evening." This time his disappointment was authentic. "I'm sorry." She looked at him. "I didn't know you were coming."

"Can't you do it some other time?" He asked looking over at Martin who was busy pulling a wheelchair into the room. Alarmed, Harrison pressed with more questions. "What is that for? Why do you need a wheelchair?" He turned on Martin, "what kind of test is this?"

Geiar was speechless. She didn't want to have to explain what she was about to go through. It was bad enough she had to endure it, she didn't want to worry anyone else. Fortunately for her, Martin sensed her discomfort. "Dr. Blackwood. . ."

"Harrison"

"Sir." Martin wasn't about to get on familiar terms with this man. "Using a wheelchair is standard procedure for medical testing, there is no cause for alarm." Geiar walked over and sat in the chair as if to show she wasn't upset by it, he shouldn't be either. Of course, it didn't work.

"Medical testing? What's wrong?" Harrison demanded. Geiar deflated. She hoped that maybe he'd let it go but he didn't. She shot a pleading look at Paul, who, until now had remained quiet. He cleared his throat and walked over to where Harrison was standing.

"It looks like we came on a bad day," he said, working to keep a pleasant tone in his voice. "Apparently she has prior engagements." He glared at Harrison with a look that said cool it, but it went unheeded. Harrison followed as Martin turned Geiar around and began walking out the door.

"Can I go with you?"

Geiar rolled her eyes. "You can't."

"If it's clearances, I've got that. "

"I don't want you there," she said, point blank. Geiar was tired of his insistences and she just wanted to get the whole thing over with. Maybe later she'd explain why, but not now. Leave me some dignity, will you? For the first time since Martin showed up Harrison stopped talking long enough to listen. "It's just something that they do to make sure the program is still on track. It's nothing to get worried about." She was trying hard to maintain her calm. "It's routine." Speak slowly, and maybe he'll listen.

"What do they do?" He asked, determined to get at least some information from her. Geiar's avoidance wasn't sitting well with Harrison. He never trusted the government, especially the military. And with the way she was acting he was growing suspicious. What didn't she want him to know?

"Fine, they electrocute me," Geiar said flatly. Harrison planted his hands on his hips in an act of terminal frustration.

"I don't need your sarcasm. . ." He stopped and adjusted his direction of attack, unwilling to let this meeting end in argument. "If it's not anything serious why don't you want me there?"

The corner of Geiar's mouth quirked up in surprise as she answered his question. "It's not very pretty," she said. "I don't like people seeing me like that, okay?" She nodded like a mother trying to talk her child into taking a foul tasting medicine. "Okay?"

Harrison relented. Amuse her, he thought, there's more than one way to skin a cat. With a deep breath he agreed and smiled. "Okay. . .But I'll be here first thing in the morning!" he shouted after her as Martin turned the chair around and headed down the hall.

"First thing!" She chimed back. Paul walked out into the hallway just in time to see Harrison sneak to the corner Geiar and Martin had just turned.

Quietly approaching from behind, Paul tapped on his shoulder. "What are you doing?" He asked. Harrison waved the question away.

"She's hiding something." Glancing around the corner again, he caught Martin pushing Geiar through a nearby door.

"Don't do it, Blackwood." Paul threatened. Just then a corporal appeared behind the two.

"Colonel Ironhorse?" Paul turned toward the corporal and Harrison saw his chance to take off. Paul growled silently as Harrison disappeared, civilians -- don't know when to take an order. The corporal glanced down the hall but didn't see anything unusual. "Sir, there are a few forms you need to fill out before we can release the subject. If you will?" He ushered Paul toward a well appointed office and a folder full of papers waiting for his signature.

"So who were they again?" Martin asked as he wheeled Geiar along the clinically white corridor.

"They were Dr. Harrison Blackwood and Lt.-Colonel Paul Ironhorse." She explained. "I've told you about them," she said as he shook his head. "The ones that got me out?"

"Oh, okay! Now it makes sense. . .That's the Harrison you were talking about?" Martin raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "You mean to say he's the reason you turned me down?" Geiar nodded sullenly, as if she were admitting to something she'd rather not. "Well. . .I guess now I understand why." He chuckled. "I'd want my space, too."

"He's not as bad as he seems," Geiar said, jumping to Harrison's defense. "But then I wasn't around him for too long. . .Maybe he is." She couldn't help but laugh at her words, but inside she quietly wondered which statement was true. Harrison Blackwood changed personalities faster than Madonna changed hairstyles, and Geiar didn't know what to expect next. She sat quietly debating the subject, when they approached a set of large swinging doors.

"Why are they here?" Martin asked, as he punched at a large silver button on the wall, making the doors swing open slowly. An exasperated laugh rose from the wheelchair.

"I don't know! I never found out!"

In the distance, Harrison watched. It hadn't been hard to follow them, the hallways were nearly empty. When he checked his watch he realized it was already after six. Most of the staff had already gone home. What kind of a test had to be done right now? And medical testing? He hadn't so much as seen anyone who even remotely looked like a doctor. Not even a nurse. . .The pieces weren't adding up, Harrison thought, as he shadowed them. He could hear them talking, and once or twice he thought he heard his name, but the context was unclear. The barren hallway muted their voices until only a whisper was left, and Harrison was too far away to hear.

He approached the doors they had gone through and looked through a high, narrow window. From there, he watched Martin push Geiar into a room at the other end of the hall. Then, when it seemed safe, Harrison pushed through the doors and crept down the hall, hoping not to get caught.

Suddenly the door to Geiar's room opened and Martin's voice filled the hall. "You know the routine, everything," he said, his hand resting loosely on the doorknob. Spinning around, Harrison frantically searched for a place to hide and finally ducked into the room next door. Geiar groaned a response and the volume of her voice startled Harrison. When he turned to see where it was coming from he saw her figure through a tinted window.

"Fine, that can stay," Martin said. "There's a gown for you on the foot of the bed, I'll be back in about five minutes okay?"

For a moment Harrison panicked with the thought that Geiar could see him, but she seemed completely oblivious to his presence. Looking around the room, he saw a desk facing the windows topped with monitors and a microphone. Behind it chairs lined the wall. An observation room? Martin closed the door to Geiar's room and walked past, reading pages on his clipboard as he went. Quietly, Harrison sat down at the desk intent on seeing what would take place.

Geiar considered her surroundings. In seven months this room had stayed pretty much the same, except for the machinery near the bed. It had started with a simple PC, a control console and the basic collection of health monitors. But slowly larger, faster systems were added until about a month ago they were replaced with a server connected to a much larger, more powerful array housed in the engineers' quadrant on the other end of the facility. Now the monitors were crowned with a simple, slim laptop whose only responsibility was to watch over everything else.

The bed itself was a standard issue hospital bed, tilted so that she wasn't lying flat on her back when she was resting. It was comfortable enough, considering the circumstances. In the corner was a hospital gurney, a crash cart, and the wheelchair Martin brought her in with. There was one window and it looked out across a small courtyard to the other half of the building. It was late January and the cold darkness of it seemed to fit her mood. Geiar watched two office lights blink off across the way before drawing the blinds to change clothes. First she slipped her feet from her shoes and absently kicked them under the chair. Then she tugged on a sleeve as her arm slipped inside her shirt easily flipping the fabric over her head.

Harrison gasped, riveted by the scene playing out before him. She moved slowly through his vision as his memory took him back to the night they had shared. In a moment of passion she moved that same way; one fluid motion and her top went flying. She was smiling then, enthusiastic even, but now everything about how she moved was filled with a kind of sadness. Harrison shuffled in his seat and leaned onto the desk as she continued, unaware of her audience.

Unbuttoning her jeans, Geiar slipped her hands inside and slid them down her hips gathering the stiff fabric as she went. They dropped to the floor in a denim puddle. She picked them up, folded them and placed them next to her top. There was only one thing left. Reaching around her back, she unhooked her bra. The delicate cream lace dropped onto her jeans where she placed her top over it.

Geiar stopped and looked toward the mirror. She knew about the observation room but it was never used. At least, not since the first time this test went wrong. The crash cart in the corner was a testament to that. She pushed the thought out of her head and allowed more pressing matters to take over. Why were they here, she asked again. Except for Norton, she hadn't really kept in touch with anyone. Not even Harrison, despite their intimate connection. Coming here was a chance for her to start over and that meant putting her past, and everything about it, behind her; passionate decisions and all. It was easy, everything was a continent away, that is until tonight when one memory decided to walk back into her bedroom uninvited.

Geiar faced the mirror and slowly examined herself. As Harrison watched she drew in a deep breath causing her chest to rise before him in a pleasing way. He absently reached out for her as his eyes traveled the length of her exposed body. She was strong and graceful, Harrison remembered telling her, but she never believed him. She dropped her shoulders as if she were disappointed in what she saw then shook her head and turned away, returning to the bed and the hospital gown waiting for her.

"Okay, I'll give you that" he answered reaching up to cup one, his thumb teasing her nipple. It began to harden under his touch. "they're small. . ." Her shoulders dropped in disappointment, "but they're friendly!" Harrison could still hear her giggle.

Geiar climbed onto the bed and waited for Martin; her face a mixture of dread, resignation and fear. Only a moment later he returned, still carrying the clipboard and accompanied by another man in teal colored scrubs. He was a large man, but with enough of a belly and facial hair to make him look like an overgrown teddy bear. The stethoscope slung around his neck told Harrison the man was a doctor. He uncoiled the stethoscope and began a basic examination as Martin powered up the equipment.

"Are you doing alright?" Martin asked. "You're quiet today."

Geiar shrugged, "No particular reason." She forced a smile, as if to prove to Martin she was telling the truth. But as he cocked one almond-shaped eye at her, she dropped her façade. "I wasn't expecting guests," she said quietly.

"Hey I'm the project leader and I didn't find out any sooner than you did." He handed the doctor some wires with sensor pads on the ends and motioned toward Geiar. She pulled the neck of her gown away as the doctor reached over her and placed the pads on her chest. "What I did find out is that you're going back with them tomorrow."

"What? I never agreed. . . "

"You're being transferred, no agreement necessary," he said. She stopped arguing. Martin was right. You did it again, she thought to herself, signed your life away.

"I couldn't find out anything more than that. Apparently this is coming from pretty high up." Martin watched her settle uncertainly into the bed. "Consider it field testing. You're still in the program, you're just changing location." Despite her sometimes cavalier attitude, Martin knew Geiar better than to think she wasn't upset. He knew she didn't like surprises, and this was one was a whopper.

"Martin, I AM the program." She smiled haplessly at her friend knowing full well she couldn't do anything about the decision. "At least they're not complete strangers," she said. Lying back, Geiar looked away as he uncoiled a thick black cable and connected it to the port on her scalp. Immediately the laptop perked up. Geiar took a deep, nervous breath.

"I know, this isn't easy," Martin said. "You know I wouldn't do this if I didn't have to. I'll be right here the whole time, okay?" He reached for her hand and for a moment they just looked at each other.

In the darkness, Harrison watched, surprised at the gentility of the tech's actions and wondered briefly if they had something beyond a business relationship. A pang of guilt struck through him at the thought of possibly separating them. He'd only been with Geiar for one night, it was hardly enough to say they had a relationship and Harrison definitely couldn't blame either of them if they were involved. But he hoped they weren't. Maybe with her back at the Cottage he'd have a chance to explore that initial attraction between them. But if she was pining for Martin, that opportunity might never come.

She said something, he couldn't tell what, then nodded sadly with the tech's answer. Alarms went off in his head as he watched the tech first pull wrist restraints then leg restraints over the sides of the bed and lock her into place. Geiar squirmed lightly in the thick leather straps, then settled again as the doctor did one last check before giving his okay.

Martin looked at Geiar. He couldn't help but feel guilty for having to tie her down. But she was a fighter and it nearly killed her the first time they tried this test. Since then it had become common procedure, if only to protect her from herself. "Okay, are you ready?"

She laughed, "no, but let's do it anyway."

"Remember, I'll be right here" he said as he brushed some hair from her forehead. "Here we go. I'll tell you before I move up, okay?" Geiar took a deep breath and nodded. "This is the first level," he said. She felt nothing unusual.

Harrison tried to make out what was going on, but with the distance, he couldn't see anything on the laptop. The rest seemed like diagnostic hospital equipment. Most Although like the crash cart in the corner, he didn't care for it being there. Other pieces of equipment he couldn't identify at all. At least she didn't seem to be in any discomfort, he thought. But why the restraints then? The knob turned again and she shuffled uneasily in her bed. The tech looked at her, he asked a question and she nodded a reply. He wrote something down as the doctor stepped forward and observed.

"We're going on to level three," Martin informed her as he turned the knob again. Geiar shut her eyes and whimpered as the room began to spin. "Okay, just take it easy. Remember, breathe deep and concentrate on relaxing." Martin watched as she tried to force her body to relax. It worked for a little while, but he knew it wouldn't last. They stayed at that level for a while, as Harrison sat motionless staring intently into the next room. Every so often her head would flip one way, then the other as though she were trying to evade something.

The tech rested his hand on hers, said something then once again turned the knob. Geiar twisted her fingers into a fist and held them so tight her hands trembled. Her reaction was not lost on Harrison. He took a deep breath and felt his own body tighten. The doctor pulled his stethoscope from his neck and began listening to hear heartbeat. He checked her eyes and took her pulse again before nodding to Martin to continue.

Geiar's breathing was coming faster now. The dizziness was very quickly being replaced by pain. What started as a dull headache around the implant very quickly raced down her neck, wrapped itself around her body and began to squeeze. She tried to relax, but it wasn't working. Every time Martin increased the level, she felt as if she'd been struck by lightning. After a while it was easier to give up and let the pain take over.

"Geiar," Martin turned and looked at her. "We're going to level five."

She didn't respond. Slowly, he reached for the knob and turned it again. Immediately her body stiffened as her head pushed deep into the pillows. Harrison jumped from his chair, nearly toppling it beneath him. Damn that test, this is stopping now! He turned and walked right into Paul. Startled, but determined, Harrison tried to push past but was blocked.

"No, you can't go in there!" Paul commanded, "you're staying here."

"I can't let this continue - he's killing her!" Harrison bellowed, pointing an angry finger at the glass.

In the other room, Martin turned his head toward the mirrors. The muffled sound of an argument seeped through the glass. If those two were watching, there was nothing he could do about it now, he had to complete the test. Hopefully they had enough sense not to get involved. Turning to Geiar, he saw that her body was tensed and trembling.

"Relax, try and relax," Martin coaxed already knowing it wouldn't really help her. He studied the monitors and noted his observations on the clipboard. Leaning over her, he stroked her forehead gently and she began to whimper. "Okay, this is the last level. I promise you."

Harrison and Paul were staring each other down when they heard her scream. Their heads whipped to the side and saw Geiar's body arch against her restraints. Time froze as they forgot their anger and watched, horrified. In the room, two men circled her slowly like scientific vultures. The doctor casually checked her heartbeat and pulse again, while Martin took notes on his clipboard. Eventually, he returned to the console and began turning the knob back down. Around the third level, Geiar finally collapsed into the mattress and lay still as the doctor unlatched the restraints and gently placed her arms across her chest. Martin disconnected the cable from her port and whispered comforting words as Geiar began to come around.

"Martin?" she said weakly, "help me." She reached for him as he lifted her and held out a small trashcan. He held her hair back as she vomited. Harrison dropped his head as anger turned to disgust. She's leaving with me tomorrow and she's not coming back, he thought. Paul, on the other hand, continued to watch as Martin gently held her, offering her some water to wash away the bitter taste in her mouth. She collapsed again and the doctor took over her care.

"Let's get her out of here," Paul said, his eyes still fixed on Geiar. He didn't realize he was alone in the room until he saw Harrison emerge on the other side of the glass.

"I knew it was you," Martin said, ruefully. He didn't bother to turn around, but rather kept his attention on Geiar, who had finally fallen asleep.

"What did you do to her," Harrison demanded, as he approached her bed looking for signs of life from Geiar. The doctor quickly stepped between him and Geiar's bed silently warding off his advance. "Why did she scream?"

"She asked you not to follow her." Martin finally approached Harrison. "Why didn't you listen to her? You had no right to be here!"

As their voices rose in volume, Geiar woke again and looked bleary eyed around the room. Three figures stood in the doorway, two were arguing.

"Rights?" Harrison bellowed. "Since when does torture pass as science?"

Geiar winced at the statement. "Harrison?" Her voice was soft and fragile, but he heard her and the argument ended right there. He pushed past the doctor and rushed to her side, shooting a cold, defiant look at the two men. Martin nearly ran into Paul as he stormed from the room.

"What are you doing here?" She asked. Harrison found himself staring into bloodshot, unfocused eyes as he tried to decide for himself if she was really alright. "I asked you not to. . ."

"That's not important," he said, cutting her off. "Are you okay? What did they do to you?" He watched her close her eyes, as if she was trying to forget the pain of the past hour.

"Disappointed. . ."

"I don't understand, what are you disappointed in?" He searched her face for the answer, hoping to God she didn't mean the test. How much more did she think she could handle?

"You didn't listen to me," she said, and Harrison steadied himself for a fiery blast. If there was anything he remembered about Geiar it was her temper. And, he might even admit, she had a point, but his actions were justifiable. At least to him. "You disappointed me." The words slipped from her mouth weakly as she fixed her gaze on him. In the doorway, Paul and the doctor watched Harrison gently place her hand back on the bed and drop his head, unable to face her.

The next morning as Geiar was finishing off breakfast, Harrison returned. This time he knocked and waited for her to answer instead of simply walking in. She greeted him with a soft, if not tired smile and Harrison couldn't help but attribute it to last night's ordeal. He followed her quietly back to her table before speaking.

"How are you feeling?" He asked, still smarting from her words.

"I'm fine." Geiar didn't feel like revisiting the night before. She offered him his choice between the plum and the nectarine from her breakfast hoping that it would keep him from asking any more questions.

"How often do they do that. . .test?" He asked between bites of the nectarine.

"Are you always so annoyingly officious?" She gave up on a peaceful morning and instead returned to packing her suitcase, momentarily abandoning him at the table. "Where's Paul?"

"Officious? That's different." He chuckled then followed her across the room where she was busy trying decide what to take. "Usually people just say . . ."

"Nosy?" She asked, interrupting his explanation. "Or are they nice about it and just call you curious."

"Well. . ." He realized she was still upset and now she had the strength to do something about it. He just wasn't sure how bad it would be.

"Meddlesome? Prying? Intrusive? Do any of these words sound familiar?" Geiar was slamming clothing into her suitcase, not even bothering to fold them as she continued to list off more words.

"I get the picture." Harrison was trying to maintain his temper. He didn't want this trip to start the way the last one had. Granted it ended alright, but most of their time together had been hell. "Look I'm sorry, but if you had just told me. . ."

"I DID tell you! You would've wanted to watch anyway." Geiar wasn't giving up. In all honesty Harrison couldn't deny it. He'd followed her despite her request to stay away. Knowing what was going to happen wouldn't have made much of a difference. But he wasn't about to admit it. "And where the hell is Paul?" She demanded.

"You never gave me the chance," he argued. "Why did you have to be so secretive?"

"Secretive? I still don't know what you're doing here!" Geiar slammed the top of her suitcase down only to realize it was about four inches from closing. She pushed on it hoping to compress the clothing enough to get the latches at least close to each other. "Why did I have to find out from someone else I'm leaving today?" She gave up on the suitcase and glared at him, not really expecting an answer.

"You've got hangers sticking out," Harrison said, trying to hide a smile. Her eyes widened at his observation then she collected herself and casually opened the suitcase again, as if she knew that was the problem all along. Harrison sat across from her and watched as she began folding clothes and arranging them in short stacks. She was tired of being angry. For the most part, it had been a nice, quiet seven months, but one day with Harrison Blackwood and it all went to pot again. She was not looking forward to leaving.

"I don't even know what you do," she said. "From what I remember you had quite a bit of firepower already for. . .Whatever. What could you possibly want with me?" She glanced at Harrison only long enough to catch the surprised expression on his face, then went back to her packing.

"You've got an incredible ability. . ."

"And not even half as much knowledge as Norton." She finished. "Talk about incredible, I wish I knew what he did."

Harrison laughed shyly. "He can't wait to see you. Norton's nearly as excited to have you back as I am." He watched as she stopped packing and nervously looked toward the windows, unsure how to respond. Suddenly the room was too warm for comfort.

"You don't know me," she said, forcing herself to continue packing.

"That's something I intend to fix," he said. "It seems we have some unfinished business." Harrison regretted saying that the moment the words were out of his mouth. It was too soon, especially after last night, but he couldn't stop himself. "We don't have to pick up where we left off," he added quickly.

Geiar dropped the clothes into her suitcase without so much as looking at him. "I don't think we should 'pick up' at all." She finally glanced his way just in time to catch his expression as he recovered from her statement. "I don't. . .Do that," she said. "I mean, it was so fast, I've never. . . " Geiar was getting flustered and she struggled to keep her concentration on packing. Otherwise, she might actually bolt from the room. "It's just not a good idea, okay?"

He took in a deep breath then yielded to her decision. "Okay." His answer was soft and the disappointment came through in his voice. But it wouldn't do any good to push this subject any further right now, he was in no position to argue.

"That's not why you came, is it?" She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to that. Although if it was she'd be at least a little flattered, but probably even more uncomfortable than she already was. Harrison's expression brightened at her question.

"We need your help," he said, then reached over to press the lid of the suitcase down as she fastened the latches.

"Well I don't know how much I can help if I don't know what's going on. Do you ever plan to tell me?" She studied his face and nearly got lost in the blue of his eyes - if just for a moment. In seven months, Geiar still hadn't figured out how that insanely frustrating man had seduced her. In two days they started off with a consistent flow of arguments, followed by avoidance only to land in bed with each other the night before she left. Geiar winced at the memory.

"I can't tell you here," he said as she rose from the bed and began building a small collection of mementos to take with her.

"How long am I staying?" She asked, suddenly aware she didn't even know those most basic details. "This place is about as top secret as it gets," she added, trying not to care if he ever answered her and failing miserably.

"Hopefully permanent," Harrison said. "This is a job offer?" She asked. "What kind of job? Well, beyond the so -top secret I can't even know -what I'm -doing -while I'm -doing it details. Or is everything else confidential, too?" Geiar couldn't help but giggle when Harrison smirked at her. "If I'm going back with you, don't I have a right to know?"

"I promise I'll explain everything, but not now," he said. Silence filtered into the room as Geiar wandered around. Harrison checked his watch and wondered what was taking the Paul so long to get there.

"Why are you in their property book?" He asked, abruptly. "I had a hell of a time tracking you down."

Geiar stopped moving and stared blankly at her reflection in the dresser mirror. "Clever, isn't it?" She smoothed her hair before turning to face him again. "Gynecoid enhanced. . ." She ran her hands over her figure as if to highlight the definition. " . . Information access relay." Geiar could tell Harrison wasn't buying her reaction. "I came up with it myself," she added.

"Why?"

"Security," she said. "If anyone were looking for me they'd get sent on a wild goose chase."

"Did that." Harrison nodded, remembering all the red tape he had to cut through. Granted General Wilson was a big help, but even with his influence it still took a while to find out where she had gone. "But why list you as equipment? You're not equipment, you're a person for Christ's sake."

She shook her head. "Remember, I told you same life different building?" She returned to the bed and sat down beside him. "I haven't been a person for almost 8 years. Not since I got the implant." Geiar could see where the discussion was heading and she didn't want to go there. It took her long enough to understand she'd never again be just an average girl. She really didn't want to have to explain the idea to him. But she could see the same look Harrison had sported the night before she left was taking over. The one that was a mixture of curiosity, concern and alarm. "Look, I promise I'll explain everything, but not right now," Geiar said, daring to crack a playful smile.

"Stop repeating me." Harrison couldn't help but laugh at being caught by his own words. A quiet knock broke her from their discussion as she went to answer the door. Paul walked in, looked around then gravitated toward Harrison.

"Are you packed?" Paul asked as he eyed one of the nameplate luminarias sitting beside her suitcase. "We have to leave soon if we want to catch our flight."

"Mostly, I'm just not sure what all I need. What's gonna happen to what I leave behind?" Geiar began scanning the room again, searching for some item she might have forgotten on her last pass. "Luminaria," she said, pointing to the object in Paul's hands. "They were Christmas decorations." She took the luminaria from him and pointed out a particular nameplate. "M. Osborne. . .That's Martin. . .The guy from yesterday?" Geiar smiled when recognition washed over the two men. "He's been my best friend here." She wagged the luminaria at Harrison. "You'd get along with him, ,maybe, if you hadn't been so charming." She handed the luminaria back to Paul, who snickered at her comment. "Are you like that with everyone?"

"Yes," Paul said, before Harrison had a chance to answer. "Whatever you leave behind will be shipped, so don't worry about it, just take what you want right now and the rest'll be there before you know it."

Geiar was content with the answer. So far it was the most concrete one she was able to get from those two. She still didn't know what kind of work she was looking at and she had no idea when she'd find out, but at least she'd have all the comforts of home.

"What's that?" Paul asked, as they waited for the plane to take off. Harrison was already asleep by this time and Geiar found herself restless and edgy. She hadn't been on many plane trips in her life and waiting for a flight to get underway was always the most nerve wracking time. She hated waiting.

"Going away present from Martin," she said as she hoisted the black slimline briefcase onto the tray table. "He said it was a little something he and the other engineers put together for me. A kit of some sort." The latches clicked open quietly and Geiar smiled when she saw the contents of the briefcase. The top half housed a screen, battery pack and outlet adapter, while in the bottom half a collection of different meters and sensors lay neatly imbedded in black foam. "It's maintenance equipment," Geiar explained as she lifted a small black box from its nest.

"When you think, synapses fire in your brain like tiny bolts of lightning," Geiar said. "That's the easiest way to explain it, anyway. It's an electrochemical process, a lot like how data is transmitted through a computer. . .Which is why this whole implant thing is possible to begin with."

"So this needle moves with your brainwaves?" He studied the instrument as she held it before them. An arc of numbers raced across the small monitor as the black needle slept at the left side of the spectrum. Geiar turned the meter over and pulled a probe from behind.

"This goes into my implant," she said, mimicking the motion she'd seen Martin use many times before. "When I'm resting, the needle sits about here." She pointed the edge of the probe near the left side of the meter. "With average work I move to about here." Her probe moved a little further right, but didn't pass the middle of the screen. "Yesterday. . .That test . . ." Geiar glanced toward Paul to gage his reaction. Except for a tightening of his jaw, there was none. "I was sitting about here." She moved the probe clear across the screen, but stopped just short of the red zone.

"What happens if you go into the red," Paul asked. He took the meter from her and studied the numbers carefully.

"I seize." She tried sounding nonchalant, but failed miserably. So Geiar opted for investigating the other tools in the suitcase while trying to avoid the suddenly startled look on Paul's face.

"You have seizures?"

"I can't handle the capacity, it's like a dam bursting and I lose control." Geiar leaned back into her seat and stared at the open briefcase before her. "I lose consciousness, and if it's not stopped it can kill me."

"How do you stop it?" Paul suddenly found himself in a tough situation. This discussion was obviously making her uncomfortable, he certainly was. But this wasn't information she should keep to herself. If there was even a slight chance something like that could happen he needed to know. "I'm starting to sound like Harrison," he said, apologetically.

"No, you're not. If Harrison were asking the questions he'd want me to give him a full-on demonstration." She was completely serious, but when Paul laughed a smile crept onto her face. They froze momentarily as the sleeping astrophysicist fidgeted, mumbled something incoherent then turned his head away from them. Their smiles returned soon afterward as if the act of not getting caught was even better than the joke. Slowly, as if her motion alone could wake him, Geiar replaced the meter in the briefcase and removed another set of wires. As the plane left the runway, she explained the procedure.

"Download. . ." Paul repeated, when she had finished. He was still very uneasy with this new technology. "Why can't you can't just unplug?"

"At that point it would be like throwing a car in reverse when you're going 90." Geiar cleared her throat and quietly closed the briefcase. She dropped it to the floor and looked calculatingly toward Paul.

"Okay, soldier, I showed you mine, now show me yours." Geiar couldn't help but smile when his eyes widened at the statement. "Come on," she nudged. "Can't you tell me anything?"

"It's complicated. Trust me, it's better if you wait." He watched a disappointed look pass over Geiar.

"It can't be any more complicated than I am," she offered, trying unsuccessfully to coax the colonel into spilling. He shook his head and pursed his lips into a smile. "Okay fine," she sighed. "How about something more personal, If we're gonna be working together I'd like to know something about you."

Paul relented, though only slightly. "My last name is Ironhorse."

"I already know that," Geiar answered.

"My first name is Paul. . ."

"What's next your rank and serial number?" She grinned as his face dropped into a more serious expression. "If you don't offer me something interesting soon I'm gonna have to resort to waking him up," she taunted, jerking her thumb in Harrison's direction.

"Please don't do that," Paul said, more than half believing she would make good on her threat. "Nothing too personal. . ." he added, cautiously.

"I wouldn't dream of it." Geiar shuffled in her seat until she found a comfortable spot to sit back and relax. "Just tell me anything," she offered. "Whatever comes to mind." Soon they eased into a quiet conversation as the military jetliner carried them home.

"You hanging in there?" Harrison asked as Geiar woke from her fifth nap of the day. She looked at him bleary eyed then struggled to sit up. She hadn't realized she'd fallen asleep against his shoulder. . .again. Gotta stop doing that, she admonished herself.

"I hate jet lag," she mumbled. "And this time change is gonna kill me." Geiar stretched her petite frame as much as possible within the confines of the seat and Harrison couldn't help but watch as her body curved into a graceful, catlike arc.

"Where's Paul?" She asked, suddenly aware of his empty seat.

"Don't worry, he can't go too far," Harrison answered. "We're almost home. Look, you can see the coast." He pressed his body into the seat so Geiar could have an easier view out the window. In the distance, she saw the white jagged coastline give way to a black ocean gilded with the light of the setting sun. In the ten years she'd spent in California, she'd never gotten the chance to enjoy the ocean. Maybe this time around it'll be different, she thought to herself as Harrison pointed out San Francisco Bay.

" . . .But we won't be landing there," he said, as Geiar's mind finally focused on what he was saying. "We'll be landing somewhere closer to here." His finger moved away from the coast, across the bay to some indefinable place inland.

"Where is that?" She asked.

"Travis Air Force Base," he answered. "Ft. Streeter doesn't have a runway big enough for this jet, but we'll be able to hitch a ride from there."

"Hitch a ride?"

"Helicopter. . ." The lurch in his stomach told him they'd begun their descent. "It won't be that bad, they're kind of fun." He said, giving her shoulder a playful nudge. Geiar smiled, then looked down the aisle hoping to see Paul on his way back.

"Evening, Colonel," Geiar heard someone say as Harrison helped her from the back seat of the jeep. She had just been jostled and bounced across the length of the tarmac toward a helipad and the promised transport home. Five minutes ago it didn't look so large, but as they approached, the silhouette of a Blackhawk helicopter seemed to rise right out of the concrete. Now it loomed over her, the blades swooping overhead menacingly as the machine woke up with a whine.

Stopping to retrieve her briefcase, Geiar watched as Paul returned a salute to an officer waiting nearby then make his way toward the helicopter. Harrison trailed after as the blades spun faster making the two men duck instinctively. Her hair whipped around her face and she struggled to keep it back, but it was a losing battle. As she neared the craft, Paul peeked back out looking for her. He couldn't help but smile lightly at her situation. Ferocious as she could be, he was beginning to learn there was another side to that dark eyed spitfire.

Stop messing around, she chided quietly as she smiled back. Geiar charged the craft, and searched for a foothold and handle to pull herself up. Immediately, two sets of hands reached out in assistance and she was lifted into the cabin. The door closed heavily as she settled into her seat.

"This isn't so bad," Harrison shouted over the beating of the propeller blades.

"Speak for yourself!" Geiar was fighting with the tangle that had been her hair as Paul passed her a headset. He was already wearing one and when she put it on the noise around her muted.

"It's easier this way." Paul's voice filtered through the static of the headset.

"Plus it's keeping my hair back," she added, dryly. "How do these things fly again?" Geiar looked around the cabin surprised by the absolute lack of details. The benches were hard metal, no cushions and the walls were completely smooth. Everything was olive drab. The windows looked out onto the ground which was quickly falling away and Geiar felt her stomach tighten. Did these people have something against ground transportation, she asked herself.

"They beat the air into submission," Harrison answered with a grin. Immediately her head snapped to the man beside her. That was not the answer she wanted to hear and her eyes reflected her nervousness. "Don't worry it's perfectly safe." As if to belie Harrison's answer, the helicopter tilted at an alarming angle as it turned away from the base and headed toward the coast. Geiar couldn't help but slide into his shoulder, despite being buckled in. She apologized with an embarrassed glance at the floor then scooted away as soon as she could. It was already getting dark outside and Geiar watched the sun set as lights blinked on beneath them.

From the corner of his eye, Harrison watched Geiar. He couldn't turn and look at her outright, although that would have been preferable. No, she'd probably say something about that, so he contented himself with a quick look here and there. He glanced over at Paul and found him staring blankly out the windows on the other side of the cabin. Only static registered on the headsets.

It was Paul's laugh that woke him up during their flight over. It was a full bodied, laugh. . .something he wasn't accustomed to hearing from the Colonel. If he laughed at all it was always quiet, reserved, not that. Of course it died down soon enough when he started asking questions. Geiar casually waved the whole incident off with a simple, boring explanation. She fell asleep soon after, but since then talk had been sparse if not missing entirely. She was polite he noted, but cool, like strangers. He supposed they were, but it didn't seem to have stopped her from talking to Paul.

Harrison watched him until the stare caught Paul's attention, then he nudged his head in Geiar's direction as if to ask a question. Paul shrugged, not really knowing what the astrophysicist was up to. Harrison tried again, but all he got was another confused look.

"Excuse me," a voice crackled over the headsets startling the passengers. "Sir, there's a call coming through for you. I'll switch you to that frequency." Instinctively, Paul placed a hand over one ear as he began talking. Neither Harrison nor Geiar knew what was going on as they watched the colonel. Paul dropped his head to concentrate.

"Sir, we've got a situation. . ." The static ridden voice of Derriman said in his headphones. "Mr. Drake picked up a heavy influx of signals all pointing to a site nearby."

"How nearby?" Paul asked, briefly glancing up at Harrison. He swore quietly when the information came through. "Okay. . . Got a map?"

"What is he doing?" Geiar asked Harrison. "What's going on?" She half expected to hear him say he'd tell her later and was mildly surprised when he answered back as confused as she was. Harrison hoped this communication was not about the aliens. Not now, he thought, we've gotta tell her first. He watched Paul for any indication of what might be going on but was unsuccessful.

"Roger. . . Rendezvous . . . ETA 10 minutes. . .Dr. Blackwood and one Noncom. Make sure she's removed to a secure location." Paul said into his headset before turning around and poking his head through the doorway into the cockpit. "Chief, I need you to find an address for me." He reached forward with a scrap of paper and the pilot looked back in confusion.

"Sir, this is downtown," the pilot said as he examined the paper. Harrison unbuckled his seatbelt and moved across the cabin beside Paul.

"I'm well aware of that," Paul said. "I'm changing your orders."

"What's going on, Colonel?" Harrison didn't bother with trying to change frequencies on the headset, he simply shouted making Geiar jerk off her own headset at the sudden increase in volume.

"We have a problem. . ." With Paul's words, Harrison looked back at Geiar who was still watching. Her expression demanded answers and he knew he no longer had the luxury of waiting. Returning to his seat beside her, Harrison waited as she replaced her headset.

"You want to know what I do for a living," he said. "You're about to find out." He absently wrapped his hands around her shoulders trying to calm the sudden nervousness he saw in her eyes. "Trust me, Geiar I didn't want it to be like this."

"Find out? I still don't know." She was being stubborn. "Are you gonna tell me or let me guess?" Geiar pulled away from him as Harrison sought a fast but gentle way to lay out nearly 50 years of history she didn't have a clue about. It was hopeless, and with the landing zone coming into sight he was running out of time. Taking a deep breath, Harrison jumped in with both feet, cannonball style.

"Aliens, Geiar. The world has been invaded by aliens. It's our job to stop them."

"You're full of shit." She rolled her eyes. When was this man ever going to give her a straight answer?

The corner of Paul's mouth tweaked up cynically at her words. There was a time he felt the same way, unfortunately that time was long in the past. He knew better now. "He's not lying," Paul answered. "Trust me I wish he was."

Before she could say anything, the helicopter settled into the landing zone and the door slid open. Just outside stood three people, soldiers, Geiar imagined, waiting for them to disembark. She was the first to get off, and as she did, a man dressed in black came up from behind and escorted her away. She fought to be rid of his grasp but he held her firmly by the shoulder.

"I'm sorry, ma'am but you have to come with me," he said, turning her away from the direction which Paul and Harrison had gone. She managed to catch a glimpse of them climbing into the back seat of a two-tone suburban before she was forcibly turned away again. "Please. . .Dr McCullough is waiting for you."

In the distance, Geiar heard someone calling her name. When she turned she saw Suzanne waving. She waved back then allowed herself to be escorted over.

"Not exactly the welcome back you were expecting, is it?" Suzanne asked, as a large green van pulled up.

"There she is!" Norton leaned out of the driver's side window and beckoned the two women inside. "Don't think you're gonna have it easy. . . First day here and we're putting you to work!" He smiled broadly at her as she laughed at his welcome.

"In what capacity?" She answered, still leery of Harrison's explanation. Geiar placed her briefcase beside the worktable and leaned in for a closer look at the not so modest collection of electronics As Norton began driving toward some unknown destination. "Nice set up," Geiar said as she casually picked up a printout. She shook her head and put it back down, unable to make sense of what it said.

"It's not the Cray, but it's mobile!" He answered. "Besides the Cray is just a phone call away."

The van slowed down and rolled to the shoulder of the road as the suburban passed, followed quickly by a second one. They drove into the deserted parking lot and disappeared behind some parked trailers. Norton killed the headlights and slowly edged the van just outside the perimeter as Geiar nestled herself beside him and peered out the windshield searching for the two suburbans. Moments later, motion in the shadows caught her attention as a handful of people crept toward a door at the far end of the building. She tried to recognize either Paul or Harrison in the group but could only see bodies not faces. Geiar cursed the distance.

"What's going on?" Geiar asked, breaking the silence with her question. She had moved between Suzanne and Norton and was still straining to see any activity. "What are they doing?" She watched as Suzanne glanced at Norton, both of them unsure how to answer her question. They had no idea what Geiar did or didn't know and they didn't want to have to break the news to her right then.

Suddenly the cellular rang. Norton moved away from the steering column and headed toward the back of the van. Suzanne moved close behind, leaving Geiar in the front, unattended. "Talk to me," Norton said as he answered the call. "What do you mean, 'code'?" He waited. "Lemme have it, I'll get that baby open for you." As he worked, Norton remembered their guest. "Geiar, get a load of this, I bet you never. . . " His words died in his throat as he met up with an empty passenger seat and the open door.

"Oh my God! Harrison!" Suzanne grabbed the cellular away from Norton. "Geiar, she's not here! No I don't. . . "

"There! She's going inside!" Norton pointed to the door and the person approaching it. Suzanne's jaw dropped.

"I'm going after her," she said, dropping the phone into Norton's lap. Suzanne left the van and began running, hoping to catch her before she got inside. But it was too late. She was still several yards away when she watched the woman disappear into the warehouse. Suzanne panicked. Whatever they might have told her, which wouldn't be much, Geiar was definitely not prepared for what she might see. Hopefully she wouldn't see anything.

Once she reached the door, Suzanne quietly crept into the warehouse. Except for a hum from the emergency lights overhead, it was silent. Shadows twisted around corners and spilled over crates and other unrecognizable things. She gravitated toward a large collection of crates and began inching her way further into the warehouse hoping to find Geiar quickly and get her back to safety. Suzanne turned a dark corner and walked into a collection of small boxes, perilously stacked. She winced at the noise as they toppled to the ground, but otherwise kept moving. Time was her enemy now.

"What do you mean she's in here?" Paul hissed at Harrison. "Another one. . .Don't you people know how to stay put?" He looked around hoping to catch some sight of their wayward visitor, but all he met up with were his own men waiting for the order to attack. Harrison was about to answer when the sound of something hitting the floor echoed nearby. Instead he motioned in that direction and took off fully expecting to find Geiar around the next corner. Instead, the only thing he came across was a toppled pile of boxes, so he began tracing his way back to the main door.

"See anything out there?" He asked Norton, suddenly remembering his cellular. He half hoped that maybe Geiar had returned to the van. But he knew she wouldn't. She was too stubborn, and too curious. Harrison couldn't help but chuckle at the irony.

"Just you standing in the doorway," Norton answered, as he watched through a set of field glasses. "Guess her implant doesn't double as a homing device." He was joking, but he knew she could be in serious danger. Harrison waved away the comment and again disappeared into the warehouse. She's curious, he thought. Any other time he would have celebrated that quality, but right now he just cursed her timing. If she's curious, he began again. When I'm curious. . .What would I do? Where would I go from here? Hoisting himself onto a nearby box he saw at the far end of the warehouse the soft glow of lights filtering through some plastic sheeting. Twisted shadows moved behind it, and in the background one large solid shape loomed over all the other activity. I'd go where the action is, he thought as he quickly headed toward the lights.

Peering around the corner of a large crate, Paul watched the forms of people moving behind the plastic. He couldn't make out what they were doing, and except for the hum of a nearby generator, there was very little noise. He turned to face the Omegans. "We've got an innocent in the building," He said, giving a brief description of Geiar. "We need a positive ID on all targets." He knew too well the pain that came with shooting an innocent and he didn't want any of his men going through it. Paul hoped that either Suzanne or Harrison were able to find her. Because if they hadn't and those. . .Things. . Did. . .Paul pushed the though from his head; he had a job to do. The group split as half the men moved to a second point of attack and waited. Paul raised his gun in anticipation, signaled to the second group, then attacked. Gunfire erupted as Paul forced his way into the den of alien activity.

Suzanne ducked when the sound of gunfire rattled through the metal building. She was standing in a small clearing of boxes. One side was blocked by a set of tall metal shelves, while around her it seemed that this place was a crossroads of sorts. Many narrow paths between boxes ended here. This would be a perfect place to end up, Suzanne thought, as she looked down one of the paths. Everything ends here. Of course everything begins here, too.

Between blasts of gunfire she heard voices shouting; some she recognized, others she didn't. The battle was in full swing and still nothing. She snorted at the disappointment as she got up again determined to keep looking. The sound of heavy footsteps grew out of the darkness and Suzanne was forced to find a place to hide. Especially since she couldn't tell who was coming, there'd be no use in staying visible. If it was the Omegans she'd get mowed over as they were hunting down aliens. And if it was the aliens. . .well she probably wouldn't live to see the Omegans.

Suzanne crawled onto a low shelf and lay down, half hidden behind a box. A moment later two men and a woman came running into the clearing. The men were carrying weapons while the woman held something that looked like a radio. They stopped as she tried unsuccessfully to contact someone; her frustration sounding in her guttural language. One shot later and the woman fell to the ground, her eyes widening with the surprise of finding another woman hiding just a few feet away. She reached for Suzanne but died trying to touch her. Suzanne watched the alien melt before her eyes. The other two shot back at the hidden sniper before running for one of the paths.

Suzanne gave the aliens enough time to put some distance between herself and them. Then, she began crawling out from the shelf, careful not to touch what was left of the woman puddled on the floor a short distance away. Suzanne grimaced at the scene. As she stood up, a heavy hand fell on her shoulder and she immediately jerked her elbow back in self defense.

"Whoa! It's just me," Harrison said, trying to avoid getting hit. Suzanne spun around and relaxed immediately, but scowled at his amused grin. "Did you find her?"

"Would I still be looking?" Suzanne pushed her hair back and brushed some dust from her clothing. "Where have you looked? She's gotta be in here somewhere." She watched Harrison shake his head in frustration. "Well you know her, don't you? Where do you think she'd go?"

"With this many places to hide, knowing her or not is irrelevant." Harrison didn't want to admit he didn't know her that well. Instead he grabbed Suzanne's hand and pulled her down the path that held the most promise of getting them across the warehouse the quickest.

From her vantage point on the catwalk, Geiar had an excellent view of the warehouse. She couldn't tell what was going on. It looked like they were creating some kind of chamber, or maybe a processor of some kind, but it was still being built and Geiar had no way of knowing what to make of it. Whatever it was it looked like they were working with a kind of speedy desperation. Almost as if their lives depended on it. Everything had been quiet when she got there. She'd found a ladder and climbed onto the catwalk, careful to remain unnoticed as she lay down and disappeared into the shadows of the building. But when she saw Paul approach with more of those soldiers, everything went to hell faster than a shot out of that gun he was carrying.

Paul, that very mild mannered man she'd spoken to on the airplane was leading a raid against these people. Sure she knew he was in the military, but an attack on American soil? Against Americans? Geiar was horrified. Then people started dying. At least they looked like people, but they dissolved like sticks of butter on a hotplate. People don't do that, she thought, but these were. Okay, maybe Harrison wasn't joking that last time. . . They scattered when the raid hit, and Geiar watched as those people pulled weapons from seemingly everywhere and began fighting back. The plastic sheeting around their workspace quickly fell away as the battle spread throughout the warehouse, revealing the half completed project, but no one paid any attention to it.

The project mesmerized her. She watched intently as soldiers chased the others away and soon it seemed safe enough to investigate. At least a little, Geiar thought to herself. What IS that thing? Crawling to a ladder Geiar silently made her way down. Shouts and gunfire were echoing everywhere and she knew she ought to leave before she got hit in the crossfire. But that object was just a few steps away. What would it hurt to just check it out? There was no one around and she could be there and gone in a matter of seconds. Geiar stayed close to walls and boxes as she made her way over.

Once there she realized it was an odd collection of household appliances, stereo speakers and flatware. What in the hell? Geiar ran her fingers over the object trying to distill some purpose for the eclectic collection of materials, but it was useless. She turned to leave and passed a small table. On top there were two large bricks of granite. One had been pulverized into nothing more than a pile of rubble and the second was untouched. Geiar stopped and looked back at the machine. It was right in line with the card table and she froze. "A weapon?" She said out loud. "A sonic weapon?" She picked up a handful of pulverized granite and stared at it closely. Geiar was about to go back over to the weapon when two men walked in and charged. She immediately threw the handful of granite at them and ran.

If the plastic sheeting hadn't fallen down, she would have been trapped, but Geiar easily got away from them. Of course they were still after her, and catching up quickly. She didn't know what to do. As she ran she knocked over every box she could, hoping to stall them but they were too fast. She turned a corner and ran into a dead end. Desperately searching for some way out, she scooted between two large crates and hoped they'd simply glance around and leave. But when they hit the dead end they started looking. It was only a matter of time before they reached her hiding space and Geiar knew if they found her she was as good as dead. She was trapped.

Feeling the boxes she was hiding between, she a found a small hole in one and reached inside. When she pulled her hand out she held something small and hard but she couldn't tell what. The space was too narrow for her to turn and look. Her fingers ran over the thin plastic wrapping and fell on a series of ridges. They were on two sides, while the other two were smooth. As quick as she could, she pulled the plastic away and felt again. A pocket knife? Geiar couldn't be sure until she was able to pry a blade away from the body. Better than nothing, she thought to herself just as the boxes started rocking. She screamed and threw the knife just as the boxes crashed around her. One man fell to the ground, the small blade of the pocket knife buried in his throat, but the other was still after her. Geiar quickly scrambled over the toppled boxes before he could reach her.

The gunfire died away as the battle came to a close. The Omegans were in the process of cleaning the place up when Suzanne and Harrison finally met up with Paul. "Did you find her?" he asked, still keeping a watchful eye for any movement. They shook their heads. "Same here. My men are looking. . ." He decided not to voice the rest of that thought. Instead he followed along as Suzanne and Harrison began calling her name, hopeful to get some kind of a response.

Suddenly a scream sounded in the warehouse, followed quickly by a crash then silence. Paul bolted toward the sound followed closely by Harrison and Suzanne. He hit a clearing just as Geiar reached the same spot and they nearly collided. He smoothly spun her off in Harrison's direction and raised his gun as the alien came into view. Geiar buried her face in Harrison's chest as Paul emptied his gun in her attacker.

It was nearly 2am when they pulled into the driveway outside the cottage. Everyone had been quiet on the ride home, and Geiar couldn't tell if it was anger at her or exhaustion that kept them that way. She just assumed it was anger. . . Or disappointment. Even Harrison hadn't said anything the whole time and she couldn't help but notice the irony. She hated him for spying on her during her test and now she was the guilty party. At least he didn't almost get himself killed.

She was the last one out of the van and deliberately walked slower than the rest. It seemed like Paul might already be inside and she wasn't looking forward to seeing him again. He hadn't said anything to her but she knew she could expect something from someone. And she deserved it. If I had a tail it'd be between my legs right now, Geiar told herself as she stopped and looked around. The air was still and cold, and she didn't realize Harrison had stayed behind until she heard some gravel settle under his footstep. She looked at him then turned away again, ashamed.

"I'm sorry I didn't listen to you," she said, quietly as she began walking toward the cottage again. Harrison reached for her shoulder and stopped her. But she refused to look at him, choosing to stare at the ground instead. He had to force her to look at him, but it was only briefly before she turned away again.

"I didn't listen to you, either," he said to her back. Geiar shrugged. "So tell me. . ." Harrison weighed his words carefully, making sure not to sound too serious. "Are you always this officious?" He smiled slightly when Geiar turned around, surprised to hear her own question coming back at her. "Or are people nice about it and just call you curious?"

Her jaw dropped. Was he mocking her? Not that she was in any position to retaliate. Harrison reached for her briefcase and placed it on the ground beside him. Then he pulled her closer, his hands resting on her shoulders.

"There's two ways we can deal with what happened," he said. "The first is to demand total sublimation: you do what I say when I say it." Harrison shook his head. "Or we can take this meddlesome. . .prying. . .intrusive woman and give her the opportunity to put those skills to work." He smiled and squeezed her shoulders lightly, hoping to show her that things would be alright.

"You're not angry with me?" Geiar asked, starting to feel a little better about herself.

"Livid." Harrison dropped his smile, but winked at her. They relaxed.

"And to think when you said you were fighting aliens I thought. . . for a moment anyway. . .that maybe you were part of some kind of militant branch of the Border Patrol."

Harrison chuckled. "Is that before or after you said I was full of shit?" He stopped, apologized and asked a nicer question. "What did you think the rest of the time?" He released her shoulders as she began looking at her surroundings. The cold air put a lively blush on her cheeks, as she looked at the clear January night. Her breath puffed from her mouth in a muted laugh.

"Carl Sagan said it's more frightening to believe we're the only ones in the universe than it is to believe there are others out there." She looked at Harrison, who was watching her intently. His face softened as she finally met his gaze, but she found she couldn't even return the gentle smile he offered her. "I used to believe he was right."

End