Day Fourteen ∞ Thursday morning

COLONEL WALTERS AND MAJOR STERLING HAD JUST FINISHED briefing each other when the telephone rang. Walters picked up the receiver and listened before handing it across the desk.

"Sterling." After a moment of silence, Sterling returned the receiver. "That was a reluctant invitation for me to observe the next interrogation."

"Do you hear the church bells ringing?" Walters said. "I don't think they'll keep us on this assignment for long. Apoc already ordered the rest of my men off this."

"We'll see." Sterling rose. "Someone up top's giving the orders. They want accountability... An undercover leash on their dog. I think that's why I'm still here." He turned to leave the makeshift office.

"Major," Walters said as a thought struck him. "Could you put in a question for me?"

Sterling paused inside the exit. "I have no say in these interrogations. My position's been made eminently clear. I'm strictly an observer."

"Noted. But if you can, find out where the door is."

Sterling glanced thoughtfully through the plastic panel at the alien ship, nodding. "Yes. That's something I'd like to know too..."

∞

"You know what we're doing this weekend, right?" Danny said with his elbows on the counter, waving two tickets in his hand. He slapped them down on the counter next to the gasket kit and lubricant Mickmi had brought out for him.

"Spectacular?" She reached for the pen and started writing.

"Yep. Debbie sent these with Aaron."

She nodded and straightened herself. Danny looked at what she'd recorded in the logbook, reading upside down. But something didn't look right. "What's that?" He turned the book around. "What date is that?"

Mickmi's mouth opened slowly in realization as she looked at what he was pointing at, then glanced at the calendar on the wall. "Oh... I... Sorry."

"No, don't apologize to me. This must be your memory at work. Luckily it was me here. We'll white it out, so no one will see it." He tilted his head, studying the number next to his finger. "Sixty-six sixty-five six twenty? Is that the date on your Earth?" he asked quietly. "I see your year... Is that the 20th of June?"

"Aye. Or day 171 of Anno 6665... I think." She looked slowly back up at him. "A B C. Or... I may be wrong. I may have lost time..."

"'Senober'? Hmm... We're gonna have to work on dates this evening, you know. And see what else you remember. But what's A B C?"

"After Birth of Christ."

"Oh... right. We usually call it A D." He looked at the calendar, then met her gaze again. "Do you have a math head? 'Cause now I'm wondering what number day it is today."

A furrow appeared between her brows as she stared at him. "Day 235 of Anno 1979."

"Did you just calculate that?"

She nodded. "But you still use the Gregorian calendar."

"The Gregorian? Ha... O-kay... You're blowing my mind here," he said, grinning, and wagged a finger at her. "I'll have to check that." He chuckled and leaned over the counter, reaching for the Liquid Paper bottle. "Here. White that out."

∞

"In the middle of business, not a whisper, not one face, and every possible witness never saw shit!" Detective Captain Robertson of Albany Police Department tossed the supplemental report of the local bank heists on top of the files spread out on his desk. "It's out of our jurisdiction, but I can't get it out of my head. Not even the security at the door saw anything... And we know these guys. We know they're good at their jobs. In all your years on the job, have you ever come across an MO like that? They're like ghosts in broad daylight!"

Detective Patel leaned forward and spoke with a toned-down voice, "My pal at the FBI says they believe the perps are able to wipe everybody's memory. They—"

"What's this, the Twilight Zone?" Sergeant Serdinsky interjected, grinning.

There was an uproar of laughter in the office.

Patel shook his head in amusement and continued, "The FBI has a couple of—should I say, witnesses?—from the Tifton heist who've agreed to be put under hypnosis to see if anything can be recovered from their subconscious. They think the perps may have conducted mass hypnosis, causing witnesses to suppress the memory of seeing them or something... It's a long shot because they don't know if these people were actually there when it occurred."

Robertson picked up one of the reports, scanning through the notes. "Listen to this... Neither the manager nor store clerks 'had any information that could be related to the crime... no knowledge of or could detect anything out of the ordinary. The CCTV cameras'... they seemed to have malfunctioned 'just before the robbery and came back online sometime after the robbery'. But because the tape was removed, the start of the crime can't be pinpointed. Only jewels and fine jewelry were taken... No cash. That's the report on Exquisite Jewelers. The one from The Diamond Touch is practically identical and it happened within the same timeframe. Does any of that sound familiar?"

"Malfunctioning CCTV, removal of tape and useless eye witnesses in broad daylight? Yeah. I'd say we're talking about the same perps here," said Serdinsky.

"Make that note that there's a strong possibility that these acts were committed by the same person or group of persons in the supplemental report. Right now, we have notified patrols and confidential informants to keep an eye on activity at pawn shops within the county. Likewise, an alert was sent out over the statewide network for all departments and authorities and local agencies with the details, to ascertain if they had similar events. From the bank cases, we can assume at least two persons are involved, by percentages we believe at least one of them are male. But that's really not much to go on."

Serdinsky leaned over the desk, pushing through the active files. Eventually, he found what he was looking for. "What about these two I covered from last week? Fifteenth of August, one fashion store and one convenience store. Just minor thefts, also similar MO. No suspects."

Patel took one report and looked at it. "Robbery at InStyle Fashions... 'the theft took place without any knowledge of any staff personnel'... That's during business hours... in front of their faces! ... Surveillance ... 'disrupted and disabled'... 'no latent prints or other identifiers'... 'no viable witnesses'... 'inconclusive as to vehicle, identity, or any other indicators as to escape route or mode of transportation to and from the scene'... It's a small robbery, about 500 dollars... This is strictly women's clothing," he added, turning to the next page. "I'd say, we have at least one woman involved... based on the style of clothing carried there. Sizes uncertain... They don't keep track of sizes in their inventory. But it seems to have been practically a whole set of clothing missing. Enough to make an average wardrobe."

"As if this woman just arrived or returned to town with only the clothes on her back sometime last week," Robertson said.

"But what about the convenience store?" Serdinsky asked, tapping the page in front of him. "They didn't even rob it properly... Fifty bucks' worth of goods and an undetermined amount of cash from the register. It doesn't fit in."

"It must be a test. Low risk, nothing of importance," Patel said. "Testing the waters to see if their MO could work."

Robertson leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, nodding. "I think we can safely say these are the same perpetrators. Serdinsky, you write up a supplemental linking the four cases to the bank heists. We'll check our database for possible suspects and gang activity, and—"

A knock on the door interrupted him as the Officer In Charge pushed in his head. "Chief, we've just got word of another bank. In Tallahassee."

"Thank you, sergeant." Robertson looked from Serdinsky to Patel. "Tallahassee, huh? The Feds got their hands full. I'd say we've got ourselves a new crime ring. They seem to originate from our neck of the woods—we can't just be the lucky ones to be the first-come-first-serve-up-our-asses in a new set of serial heists. They must know their way around our city..."

∞

As Sterling arrived at the smaller hanger, he was escorted by one of Apoc's men to the makeshift control room. It contained two oblong tables set up at an angle to each other with recorders and several monitors lined up showing the views of multiple cameras and thermal images of the occupants inside the cell. One of the occupants was a pale mist of undefined shape, less than half the size of the others, floating in the far corner of the cell—the ghost. As Sterling stationed himself behind the man monitoring the console, he realized that questioning had already begun.

"How many of you came aboard the ship?" Apocalypse asked. He was seated in the middle of the room, with two of his men standing on watch, forming a triangle behind him, and four others outside the cell on every side. They were armed and ready.

"Two." Selina was sitting on the specially constructed metal chair, but she was not restrained this time. The leather straps hung from the armrests. Sterling studied her face on the close-up monitor as had become his habit since he'd been relegated to observer status.

"Are there others?"

"Just two."

Sterling found it remarkable how well she had recovered in the space of twenty hours. And she still managed to maintain that amiable comportment. No hint of fear, no anger nor animosity.

Definitely not human of our kind.

But the feeling that had been nagging him over the past few days was still in the back of his mind. And it had been building since the call from the lab. Not only were these EBEs not two entities—a revelation he'd so far kept to himself—there was something else he was missing. Apoc had picked up on it too, but he had not been able to pinpoint it to pull it out of her.

"Are there other ships here?"

"No."

"Are there other ships coming to our planet?"

"No."

Apoc leaned forward in his seat, elbows on knees. "I will not remind you again of the importance of being truthful. You know what happens if I perceive you as not answering my questions truthfully." He paused as if waiting. "You're not responding."

"There is no question to answer."

"Indeed. Acknowledge whether you understand your situation."

"I understand I must answer the questions you ask—truthfully. Or I will be punished."

"Excellent." Apoc sat back again, loosely folding his arms.

"Oh..." A thought just struck Sterling. There were nuances to what was being said. What if the alien's understanding was different from theirs? She could answer the questions that were asked and just answer them exactly as they were asked, unlike the average person who'd get the context and likely slip out some additional information. He frowned, pinching his chin.

"What kind of ship is it? Is it a ship of war?"

Sterling looked at the close-up monitor again.

"No."

"Then what is it for?"

"It is a civilian vessel.

"Does it have weapons?"

"It has a defense system. No weapons."

He's asking the wrong question, Sterling thought. They wanted to know if the ship could pose a threat and initiate an attack. If Apoc didn't ask the right questions, they'd keep getting wrong truthful answers.

Just then, Selina looked up to the camera that was positioned nearly face-on above Apoc—a slight, deliberate move. Sterling narrowed his eyes; he could swear she was looking directly at him over the system. But that couldn't be possible. She couldn't know which feed he was watching. Or was she hearing his thoughts from across the hanger?

The moment passed and she returned her focus on Apoc.

"But can the defense system be used as a weapon?"

"The defense system can be used for defense."

Apoc sat silent a moment, seemingly considering her answers. "Can the defense system be weaponized? In other words, can it be used to attack something?"

Sterling nodded. That was the right question.

"It can be used to deflect or reflect an attack, not to create one."

So, according to her, the ship was not a threat in and of itself, occupied or unoccupied. He knew Walters could verify its ability to deflect.

"Why can't we enter the ship?"

Yes! Sterling wanted to know that too.

"You cannot enter because it is not programmed to receive you."

"I see. And what does it carry?"

"Supplies."

We want to know where the door is! Ask her! Sterling thought, frustrated.

"There is none." She was looking at the camera again, and this time it was no coincidence. She had heard him and answered. But she shouldn't have answered aloud.

"Excuse me?" Apoc turned to follow her gaze, blocking Sterling's view of Selina.

Sterling nodded in regretful triumph. He was right on track. This woman—this EBE—had communicated with him.

But Apoc would never let it slide.

One act of interference, of insubordination, and Sterling's distinguished military career was over—Vietnam, Korea, Distinguished Flying Cross, Bronze Star... All of it, over.

But he might as well grasp the opportunity while he had the chance. There was no turning back now. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Hell, it was a once in a civilization opportunity. What did one man's career matter? 

He shook his head and continued, —Then how do you get in?

"It opens."

"Advise the major that his interference is in violation of the oath he took to defend this country against all enemies, foreign and domestic, and that he is now interfering with a National Security Crisis... Am I understood? He is starting to upset me," Apoc said, barely masking his irritation.

"Sir?" the man at the console said. "He's not saying anything."

"Advise Major Sterling he is playing a very dangerous game with me which he will lose. And by 'lose', I mean everything."

"Yes, sir." The man took off his headset, turning to Sterling.

Sterling could see the fear in the man's eyes. 

"I heard what he said. I'll stop interfering," he said, not caring to hear the order repeated. He'd breached National Security. He knew he only had a few minutes left before he'd be shipped off to an undisclosed location known only to Apocalypse and his employer... A black prison somewhere beneath Washington, DC—or worse, a foreign country... or even worse: in the depths of a jurisdiction-less tanker in the middle of the Atlantic.

The man nodded and returned to the console. "He understands, sir."

Apoc turned back to Selina. "I don't have to remind you that I'm the one in charge of asking the questions here."

She had resumed her normal position and dipped her head in acknowledgment.

Next came follow-up questions about the supplies the ship was carrying. But Apoc was not satisfied with learning that they were just 'sustenance supplies' and asked Selina to elaborate. Eventually, he came to what he really wanted to know. "Does your ship contain weapons of any kind?"

"No."

"Handheld weapons?"

"No." 

Her gaze was unwavering. She showed none of the telltales of deception. No change in expression nor signs of stress. Not even the slightest fluctuation in her thermal pattern. What would deception look like for this woman—this being? Sterling hadn't the faintest idea.

"No weapons? Why should I believe you're being truthful?"

"I have explained—"

"That violence ended centuries ago. I remember. But it makes me wonder how your people expected to defend themselves in an emergency if they were attacked. Not to mention when you're traveling in uncertain territory." Apocalypse was silent for a moment, clearly thinking.

"I am here to cooperate. I have agreed to open the vessel."

"Indeed you have. But that could just as easily be a cover for you to gain access to any weapon you might have hidden in there... Or for you to escape."

"I have no such plans."

"And why should I believe you?"

"It would be pointless. I have nowhere to go. I came to cooperate, to facilitate a sharing of technology that I may be given the opportunity of a new life on this Earth."

Sterling believed her, but he was still certain it was not the whole picture. He hasn't asked the right question. But he wouldn't be the one to point that out. Apoc wasn't interested in anybody's opinions or suggestions.

Apocalypse stood up and moved his chair aside. "I have a team waiting to access your ship. You will be sedated for transport. But the easy way will not work if you activate your... ah... method of self-preservation. We would have to use the hard way. You have a choice. You can accept the anesthetic and you will wake up after thirty minutes. Or you will be incapacitated with EA-2277 gas. That will put you in an intoxicated delirium."

Selina dipped her head slowly. "I accept."

He nodded. "Excellent. You'd best make it clear to your ghost that it must remain visible here in the cell until your return," he said and went to get his case from the table.

For the first time since Sterling arrived in the control room, the heat glow that was the ghost moved from the corner, floating to the side of Selina, slightly expanding. Immediately, the two men in the cell had their M1911s drawn at her.

Apoc turned as she looked at the ghost. He nodded at the men and they lowered their pistols. "Be clear: your life depends on its cooperation."

"The possible distance of our separation is limited," she countered.

"I'm afraid that's not my problem," Apoc said before he turned to the transparent exit door and nodded curtly. He stepped out as it slid open, and the two guards backed out, following him.

Selina lifted her eyes to the camera again, meeting Sterling's gaze. There was no change in her expression as he heard her voice in his head—and his eyes narrowed.

—My companion must follow me.

— ∞ —

©2017 by kemorgan65