Chapter 60

THE RETREAT, LATE THURSDAY NIGHT:

The General walked into the living room; glanced around.

"Over here, General," Jeff called out as he sat in a recliner facing the window, his back to the door.

"Up late, Colonel?"

"Waiting for you, Sir," Jeff said.

"How did you know..."

"I didn't. It was just a guess. Slide a chair over and join me."

The General did so and seated himself, pushing the recliner back as he relaxed.

Jeff picked up the remote and killed most of the room lights so the two men could see out into the night.

The General motioned to a readout. "Is that thermometer right? Minus 8 F? What's this place going to be like up here when it really gets to be winter?"

"The base gets cold, too," Jeff injected.

"Yeah, but it was 30 F when we left."

Jeff chuckled. "One of the reasons I wound up with this place was the snow, cold, and its remoteness. Frank said the logistics of repeatedly bringing a number of people up here just wasn't worth the effort, despite the beauty of the place. My gain. And ... his gain as well," he laughed. "Now, he gets to live here when he wants, calls it home, and doesn't have to worry about the logistics any more."

Whitworth looked over at his new Colonel. "Well, he might have to worry about them one more time. Didn't I hear you people talking about his and Margaret's wedding?"

"Oh, fuck. Don't remind me. Diana is making noises about her and several of my wives being limousine drivers if the weather is bad and the guests can't use the helicopters."

"That's a big fucking no," Whitworth exclaimed. "Haven't you talked to them about security? They would be far too vulnerable, thus making you vulnerable."

"Yeah, we talked about it." Then altering the subject slightly, "They're supposed to swap out the last two of our vehicles tomorrow for armored versions. Of course they're not bomb proof or anything of that nature. But the vehicles have Frank's new thin armor glass in them and light armor to surround the passenger compartment and vital vehicle components."

The General had his little device out again, but Jeff spoke up before Whitworth could, "Sir, like I said, the whole retreat is secure. As long as Little One is with me, I'm certain of that. I doubt if anyone could get past my computer/security system without my knowing it, but Little One would know even before that."

After checking it, the General put his device back into his pocket. "How do you know that? How can you trust it — her — to that extent?"

Jeff thought for a minute before replying, then, "I just can't see how she could possibly lie, even if she wanted to. Since I feel her emotions, I would know. Sir, she and the race who built her, are telepaths as I'm sure Diana told you. And unlike what I thought about how a telepath communicates, and probably what most people also think it would be like, a true telepathic race doesn't read the surface thoughts of someone else; doesn't read the words we're about to speak. At least the race who created her doesn't ... uh, well, I don't think they do."

"Now that really clarifies things — as in fucking not. So how the fuck do they do it, then?"

Jeff sighed. "I can only relate to some small extent the way Little One and I have learned to communicate. Look, take our present conversation for example. If I asked her about it, I would get a ... full download of the whole conversation — all at once. Whatever I wanted to know about the conversation would be there, including everything she saw and heard — and felt, the crackling of the fire, the security lights in the distance over there, the feel of our bodies (hers and mine), everything. The description is crude, much too crude, and trust me, the real thing can be overwhelming. I've thrown up more than once from — I guess you would call it — sensory overload. Our communications started with just a buzzing I could hear in my mind, then I began to get emotions, then feelings that directed me to do certain things for Helen as Little One worked on her.

"Little One has expanded her capabilities, and to some extent, has expanded mine — enhanced me. By the way, you and your women have now been enhanced as well. You'll soon note better vision, smell, hearing — well all the senses. And in the next few days you will see changes in your bodies."

Whitworth looked embarrassed. For a general, that was something. "Uh, I've already noticed something..."

Jeff fought to keep his face straight. "You made love to both your women, I imagine." Jeff didn't mention how keen his sense of smell was. Something he was sure the General didn't want to hear about right now.

"I'm getting too old to make love to both of them on the same night, but tonight, it..."

"Got up again, and I'll bet you ejaculated more than you have in a while, too."

The General didn't answer verbally, but his grin did, anyway. After a moment, "So why don't the other Healers work the way yours does?"

"Well, according to Little One, she's a Prime's healer."

The General sat quietly for a moment. "And you're a Prime according to Diana. The ship responded to you so... Fuck, the ship is designed to be commanded by a Prime, isn't it? And that thing is sentient too, just like your healer? That's the reason the fucking ship just sits there and plays with us. Shit. Shit. Shit!"

The General sat up and turned to fully face Jeff. "Only you can communicate with the alien AI's. You need to command the portal program instead of Colonel Buckmann. Shit, this has gone on long enough. I need to get you back to the base. As soon as we get back..."

"Right after Hell freezes over!" Jeff almost shouted as he brought his recliner forward and turned to face the General. "Right fucking after Hell freezes over!"

Not only could the General hear Jeff — he would have had to be deaf not to — he could also feel Jeff. Shaken, Whitworth finally forced himself to tear his eyes away from Jeff's. The General started to stand, but couldn't. He forced himself to keep from saying, "Yes, Sir!" But it was a close thing.

Jeff forced calm to his words. "Sir, I have my family here. I have all the money I will need in my lifetime, and I'm making more at an insane rate. I'm willing to help, but I've already served my country." Jeff's eyes locked with the General's again. "You will not try to force me to come back. You will not!"

"Ah, shit," Whitworth mumbled as he pushed back in the recliner. "Ah, shit."

The two sat in silence for a good ten minutes, both staring toward the window, but registering little of what they were seeing. Jeff fought with his anger, eventually forcing a calm about his mind, his breathing slowing as he tried to reason out their problem.

Whitworth's mind bounced from one thing to another, always coming back to the memory of Jeff's eyes. That's the same thing he did to me in my office. If I push too hard — something happens. Something I can't control. Something I don't even want to control, at least when it's happening. But I need him. I need him at the base all the time, but since I don't expect an ice age in Hell for the near future, I've got to come up with something else. Fuck it. I'm grateful to the guy. He just saved Barbara's life, and if what Diana says is true, there's no telling how long we will live — all three of us. Hell, Matthews could be a multi-billionaire overnight with that Healer. All he would have to do is heal some of those old billionaires and make them young again. He could charge what he wanted to and they would be glad to pay it. And yeah, I could take the Healer back — I guess. Well, if I brought in enough troops, that is. Even then, Matthews has hinted that the Healer has considerable power. And apparently he is the only one who can make it work. Fuck, what am I even thinking about that for. No fucking way would I try to get it back — well, her back, and I did give my word. Shit!

"Matthews, I..."

"Why don't you just call me Jeff? Everyone else does."

The General chuckled, at a loss for words. "Of all the things I expected you to say, that damn sure wasn't it."

"Sorry, General. About earlier, I guess..."

"Ah, fuck it. I guess we're at cross purposes here."

"We'll iron it out, Sir."

"Damn it, Colonel, that ship just sits there doing nothing. Those Healers have quit..." Taking a breath, the General blew it out slowly. "I need to get you some security — real security. Whether you fucking realize it or not, you've just become a fucking national security asset, and ... a national security risk. I can't ignore that."

"Bullshit, General. You're overreacting to this ... uh, Sir."

The General got up and walked over to the window, unconsciously locking his hands behind him in a parade rest as he stared out into the night. Finally, "I don't think I am, Colonel. You've already told me you think this thing with ... Hagewood is suspicious. We both know my people should have been able to find and eliminate him. I couldn't risk my only truly successful mission commander to some asshole with a grudge, so I sent people out to find him. But, as we've discussed before, it's as if he dropped off the face of the Earth. Then this woman who helped him get out of jail turns up dead in a Teton river. But nobody in the area has seen him or that twerp of a son of his. And, if he has been around, someone would remember Hagewood's big ass. It just doesn't make sense that we can't find him — unless he has help. Professional help..."

"Sir, even if he does, it doesn't mean that it has anything to do with me..."

"And, what if it does have something to do with you, huh?" the General snapped back. "I'd be guilty of neglect of duty if I didn't make your personal security my top priority. Now I fucking know you are the most important person in the whole Portal Study Group, because only you can communicate with the AI's and, more importantly, you're the only one who ever really flew a real fucking faster-than-light interstellar spaceship, with all that entails. Worse, you're the only man that ship has really responded to. Oh, we managed to get it off the ground in the beginning. Then it was like ... it got tired of our pilots trying to mess with it. One dead; one a nutcase for a while, although he's mostly all right now, another one you couldn't drag back aboard. One though," he said as he spun around to face Jeff, "who flew it back through the dimensions across who knows how much actual distance. You would think that person would be parading around saying, 'Look at me. Look at what I've done.' But instead, you want to sit at home and tinker with another invention."

The General glared at Jeff. "How in the fuck can you not want to command that thing; go — hell — anywhere?" he finished, throwing up his hands in a gesture of inconceivability.

" ... And leave my wives and the rest of my family," Jeff snapped back. "There's somebody out there somewhere who can command that ship..."

"Fucking A," the General said, "And if we do find him, I'm supposed to give him command of possibly the most powerful thing on this planet? Not bloody likely. We've had our problems in the past, but most of that came from you wanting to stay home, or whatever — 'live your own life, ' as I think you put it. And yeah, I can understand that, but I need you too. The portal project needs you. You have a way of thinking on your feet — that shit about thinking outside the box that has been run into the ground. But you can. Maybe it's this Prime thing. Fuck, I don't know. I want to see what the fuck else is inside that mountain where you found that ship. But we need the portal aperture to be bigger — a lot bigger. Those beings on that planet are obviously not the ones that built the ship, but their technology — at least as far as weapons are concerned — is quite capable of giving us hell as long as all we have with us are small arms. We need some armor and the fucking aperture isn't big enough to get it through. If we go back with them waiting on us, we're going to get our asses kicked. I've lost enough people sending them through that portal. We've finally found a planet with a wealth of information buried in that mountain. And thanks to you we got inside the mountain."

"General, I'm not leaving my women until this thing with Hagewood is settled. I have a really bad feeling about it."

"Security..." the General started.

"I don't care if I have 'security' running out my ass. The only one I trust to protect my women is me," Jeff said, jerking a thumb toward himself.

"Alright, alright. Don't get that Prime thing started again, or whatever the fuck you do. But I was serious about protecting you and that..."

"Don't you dare call her a thing," Jeff broke in.

"Hell, I was going to say alien. But I need to protect the both of you."

"General, we..."

"What kind of weapons do you have?"

"Well we have a number of Glock .40 cals hidden about the retreat. All the women have purses with a holster that holds a pistol and makes it accessible without opening the purse. I have several MP 5s (a submachine gun) hidden in strategic places. My security system is fast becoming a true AI, thanks to two of my wives. Our vehicles' armor will stop anything up to and including a .50 caliber round..."