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  “Bring the landing program online,” Kuanti calmly ordered. “Let’s run through the scenario one last time before trusting our lives with it.”

  His subordinate complied by pulling up a three dimensional rendering of the red planet and the ship’s approach path. As the sequence played out on screen, Kuanti watched the ship orientate with its engines leading the way and enter high orbit around the planet.

  “The shielding around the engines is designed to withstand the rigors of a fusion reaction. Absorbing the relatively low heat from friction with the atmosphere upon reentry should not tax the design limits too much,” the crewman narrated. “Once in the atmosphere, where the gravity coils have something to push against, we should be able to control our descent and have no difficulty landing among the mountains you have selected in the north eastern quadrant.”

  Kuanti watched the screen as his virtual ship blazed a trail through the atmosphere and then finally floated down among the tall mountain peaks to touch down near what they all hoped was a vast network of caves.

  “If we decide the chosen landing spot is not ideal, will we be able to relocate the ship?” Kuanti asked.

  “Only if we pick it up and carry it,” the crewman answered. “We are missing half our gravity coils from the rest of the ship that landed on that other planet with Captain Goron. We can’t form a complete field. All we can do is control our descent. We cannot lift off again.”

  “I certainly hope our geologist knows his trade,” Kuanti exhaled, drew a deep breath and held it as he pondered his next order. Everything was riding on it. “We’ve done all we can. Turn the countdown over to the main computer.”

  Content that everything was well in hand for a safe landing, Kuanti turned his head to look upon Cora. She stood beside him beaming with pride. She leaned in to his ear and whispered in a sensual tone, “Well done, Leader. I can’t wait for some privacy when we reach the red planet’s surface.”

  Kuanti felt his pulse quicken at the sexual undertone of her words. “I thought being seen with the Leader by others was the whole point for you; power by association,” he whispered back and concluded by shooting her a knowing stare.

  Chapter 2: Bed Head

  Dr. Jeffrey Holmes found himself alone inside Henderson Home Psychiatric facility during the dark hours of early morning. The prior evening his brother Mark called to inform him that his new patient, Hastelloy, presented a serious threat to his safety.

  Jeffrey trusted his brother’s judgment implicitly. What’s more, he knew Mark worked for the government in some sort of security capacity that required a high level clearance. Still, Jeffrey couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He had spent two whole days with the patient over the last week and was quite certain he had an accurate measure of the man. The only thing dangerous about Hastelloy, that he could tell, was the man’s intellect and rapier wit.

  Hastelloy’s delusion of being an immortal alien trapped on this planet while fighting to prevent the evil species Alpha from conquering the planet was only harmful to himself, not those around him.

  Against his better judgment, Jeffrey followed his brother’s instructions. He phoned his wife to take the kids to a hotel for a few days and then spent the night on his couch in the office. Mark assured him adequate protection was already here. Henderson Home was the safest place for him to stay.

  The stabbing pain in Jeffrey’s back from laying on the overly plush couch all night let him know that the added safety did come at a price. Unable to fall back asleep because of his stiff back, Dr. Holmes sat up and rose to his feet.

  He still wore his navy-blue dress shirt and khaki slacks from the day before, but his tie lay unknotted on the coffee table in front of him. He bent at the waist and arched his spine upward and drew a rapid fire popping of his joints moving back into proper alignment.

  Jeffrey felt his mouth run dry so he stepped out into the hallway in search of a water fountain; closing the office door behind him. The long, dark corridor with doors on either side every fifteen feet had a haunting silence about it. The deep red lighting cast upon the white industrial tiled hallway by the illuminated exit signs on either side did nothing to alleviate his anxiety. It took very little imagination to picture himself just outside the gates of hell waiting for the devil to arrive and pass judgment over him.

  Dr. Holmes forced his childish fear of the dark aside and headed toward the cafeteria water fountain at the far end of the hall. Midway down the corridor he saw a shape step out of the shadows. As the figure stepped under the dimly lit exit sign overhead, a devilish hue brought Hastelloy’s features to light and Jeffrey felt a gush of ice water flood his veins.

  Hastelloy said nothing. The man simply paced toward Dr. Holmes as if on a casual evening stroll. Jeffrey found himself instinctively stepping backwards from the patient approaching with an air of indifference.

  Just when Jeffrey was about to call for Terry, or whatever orderly was on duty this time of night, a door slammed open from behind Dr. Holmes. He about wet himself as he whirled around to see the culprit and found it was his brother Mark. This wasn’t the lighthearted brother he knew and loved. There was a primal anger in him that Jeffrey had not seen in his brother since the last time he tried to ride Mark’s bicycle without permission when they were toddlers.

  Mark pulled a gun out from behind his back, aimed a two-handed grip at Hastelloy, and silently stalked his way toward Dr. Holmes; never letting his aim waiver. Hastelloy’s only response was to quietly raise his palms up to shoulder height in surrender.

  When Mark reached Jeffrey’s side, he motioned with his head back toward the office door. Slow and in step like ballroom dancers, the two floated ever closer to the closed door. At the same time Hastelloy paced forward, still with hands raised, to maintain the same threatening proximity to Jeffrey and his brother.

  Jeffrey nervously fumbled around with the door handle until finally it turned allowing the door to open and reveal the familiar confines of his private chambers. Mark stepped through the doorway first and Jeffrey moved to follow, but was held back. He glanced behind to find Hastelloy holding his shoulders with an iron grip. Jeffrey faced forward once more to enlist the help of his brother, but jumped backwards at the sight of a snarling rabid dog lunging for his throat.

  Dr. Holmes sat up on his couch with a start. He looked around the room to find himself alone in his office breathing heavy from the intensity of his dream. Jeffrey had tossed and turned all night with anxiety about spending the night away from his wife and kids. He must have finally relaxed enough to fall asleep.

  Faint rays of orange and red light were peeking through the tall narrow window in the middle of the far wall to let him know dawn was approaching. Jeffrey finished rubbing the last remnants of sleep out of his eyes on the way to his desk. He opened a drawer and pulled out a fresh tie and affixed it around his neck. At least one part of his wardrobe would be fresh for the day; perhaps no one would even notice the wrinkly mess that was the rest of his ensemble.

  A knock at the door was soon followed by the welcome sight of his secretary, Tara, entering with a piping hot cup of coffee in her hands.

  “Morning boss, nice tie,” Tara said with a set of raised eyebrows.

  Dang it.

  Tara was not one to let such things slide by without comment. “I saw your car in the lot when I pulled in and thought I would bring you a cup of coffee to celebrate you finally beating me into the office for once. Now that I see you cheated and stayed here overnight, I’m not sure you deserve it.”

  Jeffrey took the cup and loosened his back by flexing from side to side. “After spending a night on that thing I deserve this and a medal.”

  Dr. Holmes was not about to divulge the true reason he slept on the couch. Tara seemed particularly fond and trusting of Hastelloy’s seemingly gentle nature; she might accuse Jeffrey of being the crazy one. Yet he didn’t feel like making up an excuse, so he just dove right into his day before Tara had a chance to inquire f
urther. “I’d like to have another session with Hastelloy this morning. Can you please have Terry escort him to my office as soon as possible?”

  Jeffrey knew his brother instructed him, in no uncertain terms, to keep his distance from Hastelloy until Mark arrived. Still, he felt an undeniable compulsion, a necessity to understand what was going on. Maybe it was just curiosity, or perhaps an instinct to help or protect his patient. If the man truly was ill, then he needed an advocate. If he was indeed dangerous, then Mark would arrive in due time to handle things.

  “You sure you don’t want to freshen up a bit before receiving visitors this morning?” Tara asked while glancing up at Jeffrey’s mangled bed-head hair.

  Dang it.

  Chapter 3: Indefinitely

  Professor Brian Russell’s head was awash with confusion, anxiety and chaos. One moment he nostalgically reminisced about his simple life as an archeologist. How excited he was a week ago to see his life’s work culminate in the discovery of new chambers within the Great Pyramid and Sphinx in Egypt.

  An instant later his mind was busy lamenting the weeklong captivity he spent with his research assistants, Alex and Frank. They were captured and held inside a chamber concealed within the body of the Sphinx in order to keep the discoveries a secret.

  Then his emotions shifted to betrayal when he considered one of the captors was his trusted friend Dr. Andrea from the Egyptian Organization of Antiquities. Compounding the sense of double-cross was knowing Frank turned out to be an undercover agent working for the US National Security Agency.

  If all that wasn’t enough to make his head spin, then remembering what he witnessed while in captivity was simply mind blowing. His captors claimed to be aliens and to back this up they demonstrated the technological ability to manipulate the moon’s orbit and the potential threat of bringing the celestial body crashing into the Earth to put an end to mankind. Impressive as that feat was, it paled in comparison when his captors executed an NSA agent sent to rescue them; then they appeared to bring the man back to life using a device called the Nexus.

  Professor Russell was certainly not inclined to believe any of the loony alien on earth conspiracy theories floating around since Hollywood began making science fiction movies, but he had to admit that his captors put on a really convincing show.

  The fear of knowing those supposed aliens could end all life on earth if they brought the moon out of orbit made the blood in Brian’s veins almost stop flowing. He did take some comfort that the Nexus device apparently housed some 20 million life forces that the aliens were intent on preserving. This made the situation between these aliens and the NSA appear to be a Mexican standoff with both sides perfectly capable of destroying the other.

  Following a heroic escape effort on the part of Frank’s fellow NSA agent, Professor Russell now found himself walking through a metal lined tunnel leading away from the hidden chamber inside the Sphinx. Frank and his companion were up ahead presumably discussing the situation. It was impossible to tell for sure, given how quiet they kept the conversation, which Brian didn’t consider to be a particularly good sign of things to come for him and Alex.

  Meanwhile, Brian and Alex traversed the distance side by side with a team of six heavily armed Navy SEALs behind them.

  “Ya know it’s funny,” Alex said. “The first time I walked through this tunnel it made me feel claustrophobic. After being cooped up for a week in that tiny cage, all I can think of now is a quote from Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., ‘Free at last, free at last. Thank God almighty, we are free at last.’”

  Professor Russell let out a quiet snort and leaned into Alex’s ear for a private word, “More like we’ve fallen out of the frying pan and into the fire.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s not like we just attended an Amway recruitment session in there,” Professor Russell whispered. “National secrets were just revealed right before our eyes. Do you think they’ll just let us go about our lives like nothing happened once we get to the surface?”

  “We are American citizens who have broken no laws, what can they do to us?” Alex naively asked, but her wavering tone revealed less confidence. Professor Russell put his arm around his research assistant and felt her trembling through his touch.

  “I don’t intend to wait and find out the answer to that question,” Brian said softly. “I’ll think of something.”

  “Better make it quick,” Alex observed as they reached the end of the tunnel and faced the three hundred foot ladder climb up to the surface, and potential freedom if they were able to think quickly enough.

  As he forced his aging frame to reach for yet another ladder rung, Brian ran through a litany of escape options available to him and Alex. The tunnel entrance was nestled among a busy office park; they could make a run for it. Considering they were being escorted by Special Forces team members, each of whom could probably run a five minute mile in full gear without breaking a sweat, that option seemed unlikely to succeed.

  Wresting control of a gun away from the soldiers seemed equally absurd. This left Professor Russell with the most likely, yet painfully obvious option – his cell phone. Inside the Sphinx chamber and down in the tunnel he had no reception, but on the surface he would have a signal again.

  Who to call though? It’s not as though there was a help the NSA is holding us against our will hotline. Like a criminal held by the police, Brian figured he only had one phone call before being discovered; he needed to make it count. In the end, he decided his best bet was to phone his university department head when a moment of distraction or privacy presented itself.

  Professor Russell reached the top of the ladder and found Frank’s hand extended to help him out of the hole. Up above was a quaint little room full of dusty old shelves stuffed with files that no one gave a damn about, making it an ideal cover for the tunnel entrance.

  Brian accepted the helping hand by grasping Frank’s forearm. A moment later he was heaved up to the surface, bringing the professor face to face with the man who both betrayed his trust and helped save his life during the last week.

  He tried to release the handhold, but Frank locked down his steely grip. He then reached with his free hand into Brian’s pants pocket to retrieve the now fully functional cell phone. “Sorry, Prof, but we can’t have ya phoning home just yet.”

  “Or ever,” Professor Russell subtly added, but all he could do was purse his lips and watch the only real hope of contacting the outside world slip out of his reach. A moment later Brian looked on as Frank executed the same procedure to relieve Alex of her phone, though her response was not so understated.

  An ear piercing slap bounced off the walls of the small room when Frank reached for the back pocket of Alex’s jeans. “Touch me there again and I’ll throw you down that hole. You got me?”

  Frank immediately released his grip on her arm and responded, “I’m not lookin’ for a date here darlin’. I just need that phone in your back pocket. Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way, your choice. Hand it over please.”

  Alex shifted her weight back onto her heels and crossed her arms. “Or what?” she demanded.

  The instant those defiant words left her mouth, Alex had her feet swept out from under her from behind by the other NSA agent. The lightning quick move landed her face down on the floor. Next, a probing hand retrieved the phone from her now easily accessible back pocket and tossed it over to Frank. “Take the easy way next time,” came an instructional reply from the attacker.

  “Damn it, Mark, these aren’t prisoners or suspects,” Frank admonished while putting the retrieved phone in his pants pocket. “They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  “Now it’s time to put them in the right place,” the other NSA agent responded while pulling out a cell phone of his own to place a call. Brian only got to hear part of the conversation before the agent walked through the building’s front door and out of earshot. “Tell the caretaker two high priority targets will
be arriving ... indefinitely ...”

  Professor Russell bent down to help Alex back to her feet. While she brushed off the front of her shirt Brian looked back at Frank with genuine concern. “Targets? Indefinitely?”

  Frank gave an understanding nod, “NSA terminology, it’s not what you think. We’re not the bad guys, but you did see and hear some things you shouldn’t have and now we need to manage that. Come on now; let’s go for a little ride. It’ll be like staying in a hotel for a little while.”

  “Indefinitely,” Professor Russell repeated again.

  Frank ignored the remark and simply gestured for the six SEAL team members to usher the captives out of the building.

  Brian leveled a flaming stare of anger as he approached Frank with the muzzle of a submachine gun pointed at his back. “Indefinitely,” he repeated one more time and then shouldered his way past.

  Alex came to a full stop in front of Frank on her way out. “Just so you know. You would have been the one I called for help if you weren’t also the one holding us against our will right now.”

  Out in the open among the low rise buildings of the warehouse district Professor Russell actually experienced a flicker of hope. He saw an Egyptian man in military uniform forcefully arguing with the other NSA agent.

  His hopes were quickly dashed when he watched Mark dismissively order a set of SEALs to show the Egyptian officer to the back seat of an awaiting Humvee. Professor Russell and Alex were then crammed into another one and were soon followed by Frank and three Navy SEALs.

  “Go,” Frank ordered to the driver. The soldier obediently stepped hard on the gas and they left the other two Humvees to stand sentry over the warehouse hiding the tunnel entrance.

  Chapter 4: Informing

  Over the years Mark had grown accustomed to receiving untimely phone calls from Terrance, his NSA executive committee watcher, demanding updates or issuing blistering reprimands. This was the first time in recent memory that Mark would be the one calling and issuing demands. When the other end of the call picked up, he steeled himself for the abrasive personality. “Terrance, it’s Mark. I don’t care what you’re in the middle of right now, this is more important.”