Chapter 253

..."The day we were born, we began to die. Little One tends to correct that..."

Little One cradled lovingly in his hands, Jeff approached the new Alpha first. He really wanted to let Alice and Terri check her out, but he didn't want to insult Eric. Interesting, he thought, how diverse people's reactions are when they first see her. Some doubt she's alive, others aren't sure they want to touch her, some are curious, but once they touch her, all believe.

He stopped in front of Eric. "The only way to truly believe she's alien is to touch her."

Alice and Terri bounded to their feet. If Eric was going to be first, he'd better make up his mind in a hurry. As Jeff locked eyes with him, Eric knew that Jeff was allowing him to be first for a reason. He brought his hand near. "May I?"

"By all means."

Eric meant to only touch her, but as soon as his hand made contact, he felt the buzz in his mind and a wash of good feelings flooded in. His touch turned into a caress. "She really is alive," he whispered as he stroked her.

That was all it took, Terri and Alice crowded in to touch Little One, exclamations of excitement and awe abounding as they did so.

"May I hold her?" Eric asked. When Jeff nodded, Eric took the little alien, then turned to his sister beside him to share Little One with her. Jeff stepped back and let the family get to know the Healer for a couple of minutes, the girls giggling with an occasional squeal thrown in. After a little while, he retrieved Little One to let Bridget have her turn.

She was hesitant, but Courtney encouraged her. "She won't hurt you. Touch her and you'll know how nice she is."

As it happened to everyone, Bridget's face changed as soon as she felt Little One's mental touch. The Healer still could not project thoughts that all humans could understand, but she was beginning to be able to project some emotions. Hence the quick acceptance once someone touched or held her.

Jeff took her back, returned to his seat and his story, which had only just begun when the house AI turned the big screen on and announced, "SECURITY HAS TURNED INTO THE DRIVE WITH A SNOWPLOW AND A HUMVEE. THE SPERMANS ARE IN THE SECOND VEHICLE."

There was a view of the vehicles through swirling snow as they stopped at the checkpoint, then a view of the inside of the cab of the snowplow, replaced a moment later by a view of the inside of the Humvee, the views obviously coming from the guard's helmet camera. A couple of minutes later, a momentary view from the land camera at the first turn showed the vehicles, but that view quickly transformed into a wall of white as the snow, driven almost sideways by the howling wind, obscured everything.

"I would not want to be either of those drivers right now," Eric said. "How are they going to manage all those turns in that ... whiteout? If that's what you call it. The wind is blowing so hard, and with it snowing the way it is, they're practically driving through a wall of snow."

"They aren't using visible light to navigate with. And their helmets' technology is well capable of surmounting these conditions," the Prime assured him.

Eric almost opened his mouth to argue with Jeff, but remembering the spaceship, aborted his comment, suspecting that he was about to make a fool of himself.

But Jeff had other concerns. Even with the advance technology Frank's people used when they installed those great cameras along the driveway and outside the Retreat, this blizzard has essentially nullified them. Helmet technology is experimental and production is, so far, limited to the helmets. Even then, my team and Security have the latest updates, thanks to the General. He stared at the screen as they heard the plow and its escort pass camera after camera, the motion sensors switching the equipment on as the little convoy passed, but only occasionally did the drive cameras reveal glimpses of anything other than snow.

General Whitworth stepped in the living room door and motioned to Jeff, who came to his feet. "Excuse me. I'll be right back," he told the others.

"Sir?" Jeff asked as he stepped out into the hallway with Whitworth.

"You thinking the same thing I am?" the General asked.

"You mean the view from the cameras?"

"An attack during a blizzard might be extremely costly for the attacking personnel because of the weather and the dangerous terrain, but the cameras that you have would be of little use in giving us a view of the current situation. Of course, Security still has the satellites and the helmet cams, but they use your outside camera network to supplement the cameras they have installed on your grounds – all of which are useless in this storm. The weapon emplacements aren't affected by the snowstorm because they use your radar, but we have a vulnerability that must be addressed."

The General hesitated for a moment before continuing, "I'm going to put Security on Full Alert until this storm reduces enough that the cameras are functional again." He keyed his belt radio and subvocalized his commands, turning away to walk hurriedly down the hall toward his office as he issued orders.

Shit, Jeff thought, I need to talk to the Ship without going out there. He held his collar open to allow Little One to flow inside his shirt, then stepped into the living room door for a moment. "I apologize. I'm going to have to go out and talk to the Ship." he said to the group before he turned to hurry down the hall.

"And I have to go welcome our neighbors," Diana said, a frown on her face when she thought about her husband being out in the storm, but she knew better than to try to stop him.

"I'll stay with our guests," Arlene added.

"I need to be able to talk to the Ship without going out there," Jeff muttered under his breath as he jogged toward the inside garage door.

{{{ Then why don't you? }}} Little One asked in his mind.

Don't I, what? he wondered back at her.

{{{ Talk to the Ship. }}} The exasperation was evident in her mental voice.

I can't talk to the Ship. That's what I'm griping about. Now his exasperation matched hers.

{{{ Remember that the area in your brain responsible for telepathy has recently been enhanced. As I have already told you, you strongly project mentally when you use your TK abilities, and you certainly used those abilities efficiently to push that vehicle off the cliff. Twice, you have known when one of your mates was in trouble, and that was long before that area was enhanced in your brain. You are the only obstacle that keeps you from being a telepath. If you want to communicate with the Ship – then do so. }}}

While Jeff and Little One were conversing, he had entered the garage and was now standing by the outside small (people) door. The wind had been blowing parallel to the back of the building and had effectively kept the snow away from the garage door as well as the back door and stoop farther down the building. When he opened the garage door, the wind almost snatched it and him out into the blizzard. He was faced with a wall of white, but he could feel his eyesight automatically shifting in an effort to see through the torrent of falling and blowing snow. Eventually, he could make out the parking lot, see the trees bending to the force of the winds and see the already deep drifts of snow that were accumulating against the outside garage on the other side of the parking lot.

He stood in the doorway, with his feet braced as he held the door against the wind, his mind straining to project to the Ship. After minutes of the most intense concentration he was capable of, he felt moisture freezing on his perspiring forehead. As his anger and frustration boiled up, the granddaddy of headaches was also building. Dammit, he snarled in his mind, I will do it. Somehow, he redoubled his efforts. There was an odd feeling, as if he were hovering over a vast hole, then that sensation changed into ... something, almost as if he were falling into a giant abyss ... His mind felt odd, as if it had touched ultimate cold, but then...

"Yes, my Prime?" he heard as if he were inside the Ship.

Startled, he lost concentration of what his physical body was doing, and the wind snatched the door out of his hands, banging it against its stops. He reached out to grab the door, and finally managed to pull it closed, the sudden silence after the howling wind, a sound of its own.

"My Prime?" the Ship said again.

Leaning against the door jam, "Uh..." He nearly said, "Can you hear me now?" But he remembered the commercial and stopped the thought before it completely formed.

"Uh, we have a problem that I think you could remedy for us, at least temporarily." He went on to explain, but he could feel the Ship in his mind assessing the problem long before he got everything arranged to try to send to her. Frustrated, he just opened his mind as best he could to let her see the problem.

A few seconds later, "I have now ascended to a height that better allows me constant surveillance of your home and entire grounds. I will remain here on watch until you inform me that your vision systems are again operating efficiently."

The Prime leaned against the closed door, feeling a fatigue that was hard to describe. He hadn't done a thing physically, and his body couldn't be tired, but it felt as if it were. His mind certainly was exhausted. Crap. Am I going to be this fatigued every time I talk to the Ship from a distance? he wondered as he straightened his shoulders and headed back, almost staggering, for the stairway into the main building.

As he neared the General's office suite, beginning to feel a bit better, he rapped once on the door, opened it and entered. Inside, the General's office door was open and Whitworth, sitting at his desk, waved him in.

"Sir, the Ship is hovering above us, and will maintain surveillance until the storm abates and our cameras are functional again."

Whitworth was shaking his head. "How did you manage that? Surely you didn't go out to the Ship in this storm."

"Didn't have to. Little One cajoled me into learning to do it mentally."

Whitworth grinned at him, his face lighting up. "No shit? You can talk to the Ship from here – with her hatch closed?"

"Yep. Well, I managed once. Almost melted my brain learning how, but I'm pretty sure I can do it again if need be. Of course, I wouldn't be adverse to a couple of aspirins about now," he grumped out with a sigh. "I just hope it's a little easier the next time I have to do it. The headache is a bitch."

"Aspirins?" the General responded with a laugh. "Why not just have Little One take the pain away?"

Jeff plopped down in one of the seats directly across the desk from the General. "I refused to let her or the Ship help me when I was getting a headache while practicing TK, and she didn't bother to ask this time. I need to learn how to control the pain, myself."

Whitworth took a box from one of his desk drawers, took a cigar out and replaced the box. Snipping the end off the cigar, he put it in his mouth. After puffing the cigar alight, he tossed the lighter onto his desk.

Jeff raised an eyebrow. Whitworth blew a cloud of blue smoke toward the ceiling. "After Little One enhanced me, my scotch tastes like shit, and beer tastes even worse, if that's possible. Since smoking can no longer harm me, I've compensated by having a cigar whenever I want – at least here in my office." Though not said, the implication was that he would never consider smoking in his suite. Jeff had to hold back a smile when he thought of this powerful man who was just as quick to say, "Yes, Dear," as Jeff was.