Chapter Two

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 18 - 12:51 AM

"Skyguard--how may I help you?"
"Yes, this is Judy Carlyle, I'm a security guard with Westcomm Communications in Wichita, Kansas. I need to speak to General Richard Stuart immediately, code Aegis Two."
"Hold on, Judy--I'll get him."
"Aegis" was one of many keywords used by Skyguard to screen and direct incoming calls from field agents. The keyword "Two" designated the priority level of the call, with "One" being the highest. Ostensibly, Skyguard was an interagency consortium of the United States government dedicated to the discovery, cataloging, and tracking of asteroids, comets and other near-earth objects, usually referred to as "NEAT," or "Near Earth Asteroid Tracking." In actuality, only a small portion of Skyguard's resources was dedicated to this endeavor. Skyguard's true mission--completely unknown to the general public and to all but a few well-placed people in government--was to carry on the work of Project Blue Book, a now-defunct organization within the U.S. Air Force which had been dedicated to the investigation of unidentified flying objects (UFOs) and other extraterrestrial phenomena between 1948 and 1969.
After having investigated thousands of reported alien activities, the Air Force had announced to the public that in its opinion there were no such things as extraterrestrial spacecraft or alien encounters. However, enough of their investigations had uncovered real evidence of alien activities to warrant continued research and inquiry. Because these activities constituted a "clear and present danger"--to use government parlance--to the United States, Project Blue Book was publicly disbanded and Skyguard was secretly created.
General Richard Stuart, Director of Skyguard, answered only to the President of the United States and the Air Force Chief of Staff, but his tendrils reached far and deep into government and he was adept at obtaining research and operating funds without consulting Congress or providing specific details. He was also an expert shmooze artist--if Skyguard needed another helicopter, somehow a Sikorsky Black Hawk would be delivered to Skyguard's operations center in Bartlesville, Oklahoma within a few days, no questions asked.
Judy Carlyle was just one of hundreds of Skyguard's auxiliary field agents spread throughout the United States. All of these part-time agents led normal lives and had regular careers, but they had been trained to observe and report any event they deemed worthy of Skyguard's scrutiny. None of them were ever paid a dime for their work; they were volunteers who were dedicated to the Skyguard mission. They permeated all sectors of the community and came from a variety of backgrounds, cultures, and races.
Richard Stuart had personally recruited many of Skyguard's auxiliary agents, or "auxigents," including Judy, who had been an officer with the Wichita police department before her retirement. She now worked four nights a week as a security guard for Westcomm Communications, a large avionics company adjacent to Wichita's Midcontinent Airport.
While Judy waited to be connected with Richard, she glanced over at Rachel, who was sound asleep on Judy's living room couch. After she had determined that Rachel was not in need of emergency medical attention, she had half-carried her into the guardhouse and wrapped her up in a warm blanket. Fortified by several swigs of Jack Daniels, Rachel had poured out her story. Judy's first concern was that she had been raped, but when Rachel described how Jason Franklin had ripped the door off of Mike Holbrook's car and had somehow "hypnotized" him, an alarm had gone off in Judy's head and she had taken Rachel home with her instead of calling the local authorities.
Rachel had been too weak and exhausted to stand in the shower, so Judy had laid her in the bottom of the bathtub and turned on the shower head, letting the water pour warmly over Rachel's small body while Judy washed off the filth. Rachel had lain quietly, her eyes looking into Judy's, feeling the warm, healing water soak into her. Under several layers of mud, Rachel was a mass of cuts, contusions and bruises--fortunately none of them serious--and there were no scrapes on her beautiful face.
Judy had removed the twigs and leaves from Rachel's long white hair and washed it with baby shampoo, pulling out the snarls and tangles, bringing back fond memories of the times she had bathed her own little girl years before. The warm water had caused some of Rachel's wounds to ooze blood but Judy knew there was little danger of scarring; she had treated many such wounds in the past. She wrapped Rachel in a thick terry-cloth bathrobe, led her out to the couch and blow-dried her hair. As Judy ran a brush through her hair and the hot air swirled around her, Rachel found herself drifting off, unable to keep her eyes open, and she fell over on the couch, sound asleep.
When Richard finally came to the phone, Judy explained the reason for her call, apologizing for having gotten him out of bed.
"Don't worry, Judy," he said, "you did exactly right. Have you notified her parents?"
"No--she has no father and her mother works nights at a convenience store. Rachel says she's an alcoholic and will probably come home and get drunk."
"How old is Rachel?"
"She says she's eighteen, but I can't confirm that--she lost her purse in the fire."
"We'll run her name and get an age verification. If she is eighteen, I'll send a plane up to Wichita tomorrow morning and bring her here to Skyguard; otherwise I'll send an agent. Don't let her leave--if what she says is true, her life is in danger. I'll call you back with the details and I'll have someone contact her mother with some story to cover her absence. Meanwhile, if Rachel has any more revelations, please call me back immediately. And Judy, thank you for your help--I really appreciate it."
"Glad to be of help, Richard--that's what I'm here for. Say hello to Flora for me, and I'm looking forward to seeing you both at our next high school reunion."

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 18 - 8:20 AM

A sleek, black Learjet displaying the name "Pendragon Aviation" in gold letters touched down at Wichita's Midcontinent Airport and taxied to a private hanger well away from the terminal building. The door swung down and an attractive raven-haired woman stepped out and walked toward Judy and Rachel, who were standing in front of the hangar.
She gave Judy a hug. "Hello, Rachel," she said. "My name is Laura Powell, and I'm here to take you where we can talk about what happened last night. Please understand that you are not in any trouble--I work for the federal government and I'm not a law enforcement officer. If you don't want to come with me you don't have to, but because you're an eyewitness to a murder, Judy will have to take you to file a police report. On the other hand, if you want to help us really find out what happened, then I'd recommend you come with me."
"No, that's okay," said Rachel. "I want to know. I'll come with you."
"Thank you," said Laura. "You're a very brave and courageous young woman. If you'll just follow me, we'll get going. Judy, thanks again for your help--Richard will let you know what happens."
As they entered the plane, Laura said, "I know you don't have any clothes with you. When we get to our destination, the first thing we'll do is get you some."
"That's very nice of you," Rachel replied. "Judy let me wear some of her daughter's clothes but they're too big, as you can see."
"I'd guess you're a size three, same as me," Laura said. Rachel nodded. "I'll call ahead and have some new clothes waiting for you. Why don't you sit down here next to the window and buckle your seat belt. This is Sandy Rhodes, our pilot."
A pretty blonde with sparkling brown eyes turned around in the pilot's seat and waved. "Hi, Rachel--welcome aboard Pendragon Airways. Have you ever flown before?"
"No, I haven't; I've never even been on an airplane. This is kind of exciting."
"Well, if you've never flown before, I'll avoid doing any loopty loops. As soon as we take off, Laura has some sandwiches for you if you're hungry. Oops, there's the tower calling, so I've got to get busy."
After they had taken off, Laura served some club sandwiches and a Coke, which Rachel consumed voraciously. "I can't believe I'm eating all this," she said. "Judy already fed me a whole stack of pancakes."
"From what she told me, you had quite a tiring night," said Laura, "so I can understand why you'd still be hungry. But let's not talk about that right now--let's just relax and enjoy the flight."
Rachel looked out the window, fascinated at first with the patchwork of fields below her, but her thoughts gradually turned to the mysterious woman with emerald eyes sitting next to her. Laura's eyes were the deepest green she had ever seen. Her skin was clear and light without appearing pale; it was so translucent as to appear faintly bluish, a stark contrast to the long wavy black hair which framed her face and tumbled down around her shoulders and back. She could tell that Laura was older than her, but her delicate face was completely unwrinkled and her hair showed not a strand of grey, making it impossible to guess her age. Why would this beautiful woman fly all the way to Wichita, pick her up, and whisk her off toward some unknown destination?
"Laura, you said you work for the government. What exactly do you do?"
"Well," she replied, "I work for an agency called 'Skyguard' that investigates the kind of thing that happened to you last night. My husband David works with me, and Sandy works with us, too."
"Can you tell me where we're going?"
"Sure--to a little city in Oklahoma called Bartlesville. You've probably never heard of it. Rachel, one thing I must tell you: nobody except the President of the United States knows about our agency; it's very secret. You must promise not to talk about it--or where we're going--to anyone, ever. Will you promise me?"
"The President?" she exclaimed, duly impressed. "Yes, of course I promise. Wow--a secret government agency. How exciting!"
"It is for us, too. We get to go places and see things that hardly anyone ever knows or hears about."
"Rachel," Sandy said over her shoulder, "if you'd like to sit up here next to me, I'll let you fly the plane." "You're kidding!" she said.
"Not at all; I let Laura fly all the time."
Laura moved out of the way and Rachel climbed into the copilot's seat. When she was strapped in, Sandy pointed out some of the instruments and their functions. "The most important ones you need to watch right now are the altimeter and the artificial horizon." She explained how the controls worked, and had Rachel put her hands lightly on the wheel and her feet on the rudder pedals while Sandy did some gentle maneuvers. Once she felt that Rachel understood, she took her hands off the controls and gave Rachel command of the plane.
Sandy had done this many times; as a flight instructor, she was always looking for new students, regardless of their background or where they came from. "For now," she told Rachel, "just try to keep the plane at wings level and move the wheel very gently while you watch and feel what the plane does. Very good! Okay, now we're going to do a lesson. When I tell you, I want you to roll right fifteen degrees then bring it back to wings level. Don't look out the windshield, watch the artificial horizon to tell how many degrees you've rolled. Understand? Great--okay, go ahead."
Rachel eased the control wheel to the right and the plane began a gentle roll. When the artificial horizon indicated that she had rolled ten degrees, she tapered off until the plane was flying exactly at a fifteen-degree angle, then she did the action in reverse.
"That's perfect!" said Sandy. "You're a natural--you've got the touch." She called Air Traffic Control and requested permission to change altitude, then she had Rachel climb two thousand feet. "What's our altitude now, Rachel?"
"It's...thirteen thousand, six hundred feet, I think."
"That's exactly right. What's our heading?"
"Uh, it's...one eighty-eight, whatever that means."
"That means we're flying almost due south--I'll teach you what the numbers mean later, if we have enough time. Okay, let's do one more thing: these two levers, or 'throttles,' control the engines, similar to the gas pedal in your car. When I pull them back, I'm cutting power to the engines, and vice versa. You can see that the throttles are about halfway up, so we're flying at about half thrust. What I want you to do is to decrease power to one-third without changing altitude, and I want you to figure out how to do it."
Rachel reached down and pulled the throttles gently towards her. Immediately the engines decreased their whine and the plane began to nose over. Rachel pulled back on the control wheel, adding more lift until the plane was once again flying level. "Did I do right?" she asked.
"You did perfect," said Sandy. "Are you enjoying this?"
"This is absolutely amazing!" she said, her violet eyes sparkling.
"Well, like I said: I think you're a natural. How would you like to really learn how to fly a plane? I'm a licensed flight instructor and I could give you flying lessons."
"Oh, gosh," said Rachel. "I can't afford to pay for lessons. Besides, I live in Wichita and I'm still going to high school."
"Don't you worry about that," Sandy replied. "If you want to learn how to fly, then you'll learn and it won't cost you a cent. Okay, we're about fifty miles north of Bartlesville and I've got to make landing preparations. You stay right where you are, because you're going to help--you'll be my copilot."
Laura relaxed in her seat and watched as Sandy showed Rachel how the Microwave Landing System, or MLS, worked. Laura herself was very intelligent and a quick learner, but she agreed with Sandy--Rachel understood the plane and its characteristics instinctively; she had lightning-fast reflexes and she knew what to do without having to stop and think about it.
As the Learjet approached the runway, Sandy had Rachel lower the landing gear and extend the flaps as Sandy touched the plane down gently and taxied to a stop in front of the Pendragon Aviation hangar. Sandy cut the engines and killed all the power, then they climbed out onto the flight line.
"I have to fly to Tulsa pretty soon," said Sandy, "but before I go I want to show you something."
They entered the hangar through a small door. The huge interior was ablaze with light, revealing a startling array of fixed and rotary-winged aircraft, as well as a veritable parking lot of trucks, vans, cars and other vehicles. They walked around a Sikorsky S-76 Spirit helicopter and stopped at a small sleek jet. Rachel thought it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
"This aircraft started life as a Northrup F-5B two-seater Freedom Fighter but it's actually a unique prototype," said Sandy, leaning up against the nose gear. "It has a twenty-six foot wing span and is forty-seven feet long. It originally had two General Electric J85 engines, but we have modified them extensively. Now it will fly at twice the speed of sound at seventy thousand feet. How would you like to take a ride in it with me tomorrow?"
"Oh my god!" said Rachel, licking her lips. "I'd love to!"
"Great! Then Laura will get you fitted with a flight suit and helmet, and I'll see you tomorrow. Why don't you climb up and look in the cockpit while I talk to Laura for a minute. Don't touch anything, the seats eject."
Rachel climbed the ladder and gazed lovingly at the interior of the little fighter.
"Sandy!" said Laura when they were out of earshot. "What are you doing? Rachel's supposed to be here for a debriefing--you don't even know her, she could be a complete psychopath."
"I want her flying," said Sandy. "I've never seen anyone take to it like she has--she has built-in gyroscopes in her butt. I can have her doing perfect eight-point rolls in that fighter in thirty minutes and outside loops in an hour. If I have to fly my Beechcraft to Wichita every day to teach her, I will, and inside of six months she'll be a Skyguard pilot and that fighter jet will be hers to fly. Laura, Rachel needs to be up in the air--that's where she belongs; I can see it in her eyes."
Laura chuckled. "She damned near had an orgasm flying that Learjet, didn't she? Well, it's fine with me, but we'll have to clear it with David and Richard first."
"I'll take care of Richard," said Sandy. "He thinks I'm one of his daughters from a parallel universe. You just convince your husband--I know that won't be hard, if you catch my drift."
"I don't know," Laura said dubiously. "David can be difficult to convince sometimes, and I've never used sex as an incentive...much."
"Oh, pooey," said Sandy. "I used to do it with Wade all the time and he didn't have a clue--back when we used to do such things. Here's what you do..." She whispered in Laura's ear.
"Sandy! You do that? How can you bend your...Good grief--that even makes me blush, and David and I are extremely...experimental."
Sandy shrugged. "A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, you know. Of course, those days are long past."
"What do you mean? Trouble between you and Wade?"
"It's a long story," she replied. "I'll tell you about it later."

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 18 - 1:15 PM

Laura had wanted to take Rachel directly up to meet David and Richard, but Rosalita Martinez, Skyguard's resident physician and director of its forensics lab, had vetoed that idea, insisting on examining Rachel's injuries first.
Rosa had been a crime scene investigator for the Astoria, Oregon police department until she was shot in the back during an investigation. Paralyzed from the waist down and confined to a wheelchair, she soon learned that field work was virtually impossible. Rosa realized that the scenic town of Astoria was simply too small to offer a future for a disabled forensics expert so she resigned and returned to college. After obtaining her medical degree, she was hired as an Assistant Professor of Anatomy at the University of Kansas Medical Center, where she was recruited by Skyguard.
The entire Skyguard forensics lab and sick bay had been designed around Rosa; its tables and examination beds were all the correct height and reach to allow easy access, as were the aisles between them. Skyguard had even designed her motorized wheelchair--which Rosa had named "Quetzalcoatl" in honor of an ancient Aztec king--and had built her an apartment on the third floor of the hangar so she wouldn't have to commute, although she had her own van--also designed by Skyguard--for running errands.
Laura introduced Rachel to her, explaining what Rosa wanted to do, then she went off to find her husband.

David Powell was sitting on the couch in the huge office suite he shared with Laura. Mary, an eighteen-year-old girl they had adopted, was sitting astride his lap, leaning against his chest and whispering something in his ear, her arms wrapped around his neck.
"Hey, you two," said Laura, "what have you two been up to, as if I couldn't guess."
"Nothing you wouldn't do," Mary replied. "David has been showing me this graphics program called 'AutoCAD.' You can draw all sorts of things with it. Go look at what I've done."
Laura walked over to the computer and looked at what Mary had drawn. "Mary, this is beautiful! What made you pick this to draw?"
"I don't know," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. "I was just doodling and it came to me." Mary had drafted a fairly accurate top elevation of Skyguard's F-5 Freedom Fighter.
"Well, I think it's great," said Laura. "Why don't you save it and go see if Cliff Evans up in Communications has any editing for you to do." During Mary's time away from her studies, she worked part-time doing odd jobs for various Skyguard personnel. "Leave the drawing on the screen and you can finish it later, and pull the door shut on your way out."
"Okay," Mary said. She gave Dave a long, juicy kiss and climbed off his lap. "See you later," she said over her shoulder.
Laura took Mary's place astride his lap. "My turn," she whispered. "I missed you, David."
"I missed you too," he replied, "but I think it was a good idea for you and Sandy to go alone--I'm sure it made Rachel more comfortable. Did you get back with her okay?"
"The flight was uneventful, as they say, and Rachel is up in sick bay with Rosa."
"What's your opinion of Rachel?"
"She's very intelligent and mature for her age--she's also gorgeous. Her hair is pure white, like an albino's, except Rachel is no albino, she has a fantastic tan and these really strange violet eyes--she said we were like amethysts and emeralds. She had a horrible experience last night; she has scratches all over her and she hurt her foot, but mentally she seems to be bearing up. David, Sandy let Rachel fly the Learjet and then she showed her a fighter jet down on the hangar floor--that fighter jet." She pointed to the computer screen.
"That's a bit of a coincidence," he said.
"That's a bit of an understatement," she said. "There's no way it could be a coincidence."
"Maybe not, but Mary has not shown any signs of telepathy."
"Do you think she was reading Rachel's mind?"
"It's certainly possible. While Rachel's here, we'll give her and Mary some standard ESP tests and see if there's anything to it."
Mary had come into Dave and Laura's life several months earlier when the police in Oklahoma City had arrested several teenagers for panhandling, one of whom was a girl named Mary Jane, last name unknown. The police recognized her picture as being a "person of interest" Dave and Laura had been were searching for, and they had her flown to Skyguard.
Mary's story was that she had awakened in a park two months previously, completely naked and alone, with no memory of who she was or how she had gotten there. She had been rescued and befriended by some real teenage runaways and had lived on the streets of Oklahoma City until her arrest.
Diagnosed with total amnesia, Mary appeared lost and confused. Though physically a eighteen-year-old woman, her behavior was generally that of a young, immature girl. As they questioned her, they discovered that she unknowingly demonstrated fluency in at least five languages--later testing had expanded that number to twenty-three and counting. Realizing that Mary was more than who she seemed, Dave and Laura had hastened their marriage in order to become Mary's legal guardians.
Mary seemed quite happy living with Dave and Laura, and she fit in well with the Skyguard crew. Only a few knew of her true origin, most of the staff thinking that she was simply an amnesia victim whom D&L--Skyguard's nickname for Dave and Laura--had rescued and given a home.
To the staff, the only thing of note about Mary--besides her striking pixie-like beauty--was her obvious physical obsession with Dave; she was always by his side whenever possible, holding his hand or wrapping her arm around his waist. Rumors around the Skyguard hangar concerning Dave and Mary were rampant, but they didn't bother D&L, because D&L had started the rumors. When Mary had first arrived, several of the younger Pendragon Aviation staff members had tried to hit on her; her fifty-eight inch height and eighty-eight pounds put her in the category of what some men crudely referred to as a "spinner" or "revolver." All that stopped when it was rumored that Mary was Dave's playmate. She was now considered to be Dave's personal property, which was exactly what Mary considered herself to be, and out of respect for--or fear of--Dave, they left her strictly alone.
As D&L reacquainted themselves after an absence of five long hours, Rosa called to say that she had finished with Rachel's examination, and that they could meet with her in Rosa's office in half an hour, giving Rachel a chance to try on her new clothes.
"David," said Laura, "do you know if there have been any items in the Wichita papers or on the TV stations about what happened last night?"
He picked up a report he had received from Cliff Evans, Skyguard's Director of Communications. "Yes--it's the talk of Wichita. The car was discovered early this morning and the body has been identified as Michael R. Holbrook, a teacher at Southwest High School. Also missing is Rachel Roth, no middle name, and it was rumored by a student that they were having an affair and might have been together. Rachel's body was not discovered in the car--obviously--and police don't have a clue as to her whereabouts."
"That jives closely with Rachel's preliminary account. Do any of Cliff's sources report the name of this student that was spreading rumors?"
"No, but I'm sure some reporter got his or her name--we can find out. You're thinking it was this Jason Franklin?"
"Yes, I am. Well, Rachel said her boyfriend's name was Mike, so I guess the rumor is true--she was having an affair with her teacher."
Dave shrugged. "Holbrook was twenty-eight, and Rachel is almost nineteen. They are less than ten years apart--not so different than us. The only problem would be that if the affair could be proven, Rachel's reputation would be ruined."
"Since she's gone missing," Laura replied, "her reputation is already ruined--everyone will assume they were together."
"She can't go back," D&L said in unison.
Dave sighed. "First Mary, and now Rachel, plus my three grown sons and your grown daughter. With six you get eggroll."
Laura laughed. "Don't worry, we won't have to adopt another daughter. Rachel's mother is an alcoholic non-entity, so Rachel has been taking care of herself since she was fourteen. She'll be okay--better, probably--on her own. Skyguard has an empty apartment next to Rosa's since Mary has moved in with us, and that ties in with something Sandy wants to do: she thinks Rachel is a natural pilot and she wants to give her flying lessons and make her a permanent part of Skyguard as our resident fighter pilot. Also, maybe she can tutor Mary in some subjects."
"Hold on there, my dear--you and Sandy have it all worked out, but how do you think Rachel will feel about this?"
"You should have seen the way Rachel looked at the little fighter jet. Once Sandy gets her up in that thing, she'll be hanging fuzzy dice on the rear view mirror, or whatever girls do to personalize their cars these days."
"I think it's vanity tags instead of dice. You know we'll have to check this out with Richard."
"Sandy says she'll take care of Richard." Laura remembered what Sandy had whispered in her ear. "Are we working late tonight?"
"Hadn't planned on it. Why--whatcha got in mind?"
"Oh, something...special. Sandy suggested it as a way of persuading you to let Rachel have flying lessons. She calls it the "Alyeska Avalanche."
"The Alyeska Avalanche? Wade told me about that--I don't think it's possible. It would require you to bend your...well, I just don't think it's possible."
"Oh, you might be surprised," Laura replied. "I'm a pretty limber girl. Remember in the back of your Trans Am when you wrapped my...oh, damn--there's the phone."
It was Rosa calling--Rachel was ready to meet with them.

Mary's Drawing (Click to Enlarge)

END OF CHAPTER TWO