Essentially Human Page 9

  I knew Montgomery’s father and have no doubt of his innocence. I also have an extensive collection of Aster’s books. I leave you one bit of advice. Admiral Jenkins isn’t a fool. My apologies. Celeste Pritchard.

  Damn. No doubt Hermione would be fired within the week now that her last advocate on the review board was gone. She only hoped no charges were filed against her.

  She tried to insert the note back in the envelope but something was in the way. She shook the tiny drive out onto her palm.

  Oh, this could be interesting!

  *****

  Sam left the information room, shaking his head at the extent of the cover up. And at least he had some answers for Ria regarding the personal animosity Hammer carried toward her. It might not offer much comfort, but at least it would give her something to chew on.

  Opening the internet to the Aleena propelled a change he found hard to comprehend. In a matter of days they were spouting terms and phrases from the modern world. The vocabulary they used prior to that came from the books they’d found, a century of books. That explained the formal speech patterns.

  He found himself surrounded by them when he ate, asked about points of history they’d read, or videos they’d seen. He did his best to explain, but more often than not sent them back to the internet to explore on their own. He hadn’t seen Ria in four days.

  She’d hovered at the edge of the buzz and he saw Testa bent over her at one point before the two of them disappeared for several hours. He’d asked the engineer about where she’d gone and he said he’d set up a music room for her to use.

  Music. One of the aspects of humanity the Aleena had no reference for. He often saw them clustered in a room, music blaring from unseen speakers as they absorbed it. He sent out a warning that music must be understood as something regarding personal taste and not taken as an indication of historical significance. He’d written more memos, as he termed them, the last few days, than he had in months at work. Most about societal norms and the various cultures of the surface world.

  His psychology major worked overtime to keep it simple, but informative.

  He found himself surprised at how much he enjoyed working that aspect of his past. He’d spent decades on profiling, catching criminals and investigating terrorists. Maybe it was time to consider going into private practice. Lord knows, he had no career to return to at the agency, thanks to Hammer.

  Damn, he needed sleep. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen that bed in Ria’s room.

  Milaar advised him that the boost he received from the food cubes would eventually fade and he would spend most of a day flat on his back. He finally felt the Aleena were ready to be left alone to analyze and learn without his advice. He’d read the files from Hermione and he needed to talk with Ria.

  As he neared her room, he could feel a bass beat literally vibrating the floor beneath his feet. He’d found a longer pair of pants but still no shoes. As he came around a corner, he spied T’talin gazing into a room, his back showing stress as the thick tentacles undulated.

  The wall of sound, vibrating from the room, carried a beat and echo from early in the century. He lightly touched the commander’s arm. Cat eyes turned to him and blinked. The stress showed on the commander. “She has been turning it louder and louder. This music she listens to is full of sorrow.”

  Ah. That sounded right. She needed to get in touch with grief and music often provided the gateway when emotions were lost in the internal maze of the mind. He’d written papers on music as therapy back in college and still followed the debate as therapists broke new ground, often using his paper, and that of his mentor, as guidelines.

  “I’ll see what I can do. Block it from the surrounding rooms. I would assume the filters to protect her hearing are in place?” He’d been impressed when Milaar explained the implant to him and told him both he and Ria carried one.

  Milaar detailed the rationale behind it very convincingly. “Otherwise the constant noises of the ship would affect you. It adjusts sensitivity levels, keeping vibrations clear and protecting from damage.”

  Good thing or the volume Ria had set would force most into hiding. He stepped around T’talin and watched Ria. She swayed and danced, sometimes played the drums, a guitar or keyboard. Eyes closed, she totally abandoned herself to the music. She wore a skirt he’d found but no shirt. He could see sweat glistening on her torso.

  Perhaps sorrow had been present in the earlier selections, but not now.

  A song ended with a great guitar flourish and she stood still a moment, chest heaving. Then a new song began, something he knew. It made him smile, her era knew some classics. Not all of her choices were anchored in sadness.

  He turned to T’talin. “Can I see what she’s been listening to. A list?”

  “I can see it sent to your unit. She’s cried, screamed, laughed…”

  “It’s perfectly normal, all things considered. I’ll bring her down. How long has she been immersed like this?”

  “Six hours.”

  “She must be ready to drop. Leave this to me.” He waited for the lyrics to begin, then took a step into the room. He carefully approached her, and let the music seep into him, wanting to match her mania with his own.

  He laughed as she sang and when she turned to see him, he bent over his air guitar, running with the riffs. He glanced up, through the hair falling in front of his face. He’d noticed it grew too fast and too long than was natural. He normally tied it back, but this would work better with it loose, so he’d dropped the tie into his pocket. She smiled broadly at him, kept at her imaginary keyboard and the two of them rang every last bit of power out of “Bohemian Rhapsody”.

  It ended and she leapt into his arms. He caught her and spun, laughing with her. Damn, she felt good and to see that smile, her spirit totally engaged in just living, presented him with a sweet vision and gift.

  “Let’s make that the finish, eh?”

  She nodded and spoke to the room, “End program.”

  She raised her arms and stretched, trusting him to hold her. He felt the electrical zing at his crotch and wanted with all his heart to slide to his knees, run kisses up her bare breasts, to those lips and slide into her. She’d be hot, wet and perfect. He already knew that.

  He also knew she wasn’t ready. She turned her eyes down to his and blinked. Her smile faded in brilliance and she set hands on his shoulders. “Down, please.”

  It took every ounce of self-control he knew to let her down. He took a small step sideways so she wouldn’t feel his erection, and turned her to face the screen. “I bet we could get the video feed in here also.”

  “Oh, I know. I did that some. But I’ve always preferred music with my eyes closed. I’d forgotten how much fun it is. And how strong…how much I enjoyed listening to some groups.”

  He wondered what she’d been about to say. He put an arm around her shoulder. “You have good taste. But let’s get to the shower. I need to clean up, eat and talk to you about some of the information I’ve gathered.”

  “Okay.” She nonchalantly strolled to the door. He followed, giving her privacy in the shower, though he took the creamy negligee in for her to put on when she finished. He’d actually found a man’s short robe and changed into it, plus his baggy shorts.

  When he exited, she was busy braiding her hair. He watched her a moment. “How does it dry so quickly?”

  “I don’t really know. I believe the water here encourages the health and way it grows. Plus it braids easily and doesn’t tangle.” She shrugged and tossed the thick plait over one shoulder. He couldn’t help but smile at her near dance out the door. He could hear her humming.

  Ria let the music wash through her. She could hear it still, deep inside. How could she have forgotten the glory of music? Lyric after lyric dove into her, words painting pictures she knew so well. Her heart swelled with colors and feelings she didn’t know how to describe anymore. As the beat pounded, the chords cascaded around her, she remembered w
hat it meant to feel human.

  When Sam joined her, the pure lunacy of dancing by herself, in an alien vessel at the bottom of the Atlantic, made her laugh and jump into his arms.

  And he caught her, held her as she remembered the glory of living. She hadn’t wanted to let the sensation go. But it ended, and the quiet slipped back into her, leaving only this sliver of music. The memory of it stayed with her and she fought to keep from wrapping her arms around Sam and asking him for something more. When he touched her, she knew warmth and heat. Her skin sensitized, the fine hair of her body rose to his fingers. A great hunger woke, but she didn’t know what to do with it.

  To ask him for more would be wrong. So she didn’t.

  When they sat, nibbling from a bowl of cubes flavored to taste like pizza, he spoke to her of contacting his team and what they had discovered. “It appears Hammer did hold a personal grudge against you. He and his father.”

  “Well, I do recall signing petitions against projects he supported. I met him once at a Congressional function and barely managing to remain cordial. His father spilled a glass of wine down the back of my dress. Petty behavior.”

  “I don’t suppose he asked for an autograph for his wife? A devoted fan who later became a major fund raiser for the Save the Seas Foundation and very outspoken opponent of every project his company attempted?”

  His news surprised her. “I don’t remember a Hammer on the lists. We would have used that in our newsletters, if she agreed.”

  “Evidently she signed some legal agreement to stick to her maiden name when she attended conventions, as Janice Brown.”

  “Janice? I…” She froze, holding the cube on the way to her mouth and sat, lost in thought. Janice. She remembered her, a vivacious woman who appointed herself a guide whenever they were in New York, knowing that city well. She’d never said anything about an ex-husband or son. But there had been a current of secretiveness about her. Not so unusual for the romance reader. Regardless of the money spent on the genre, society still saw those who were devoted to the books as bubble brained fools.

  Poor woman, to be so estranged from her family.

  She focused on Sam again. “You think they blamed me?”

  “Seems likely. Though at this point, it’s more about using you to increase his pharmaceutical profit. Hermione will research his connection to San Diego.”

  She popped the cube into her mouth, tilted her head and peered at him, setting the connection with Hammer to the side. “Hermione and Harold. Harry Potter fans?”

  Sam smiled ruefully. “You remember the night before the British Potterville Park was due to open?”

  “Gods, yes. The fire bombs. So many people died, including J.K. Rowling.” She dropped the cube she’d just picked up. “Happened two years before I took my dive.”

  “Well, a great many children were named after the characters in the next ten years. Hermione’s parents had already saddled her with that name, while Harold’s named him three months after the park’s destruction. I once knew a Rowling Edwards, on my high school football team.”

  “How’d you escape being Ronald or Severus?” She wiped at her hand, her mind suddenly too full of the horror of that night. The Romance Writer convention was held less than a month later and had been a very somber affaire. The fear wove through everything after that.

  “Oh, I’m Samwise. My parents preferred Tolkien.”

  She snorted, then chuckled, losing herself to simple laughter next.

  “My sisters were Rosie and Merry, m-e-r-r-y.”

  “Well, could have been Arwen or Galadrial. You could have been Pippen.” She wiped at her eyes. “At least it isn’t likely children grew up wanting to kick me in the ass. What’s Dr. Drummond’s first name?”

  “You’ll have to ask him.” Sam yawned. “I’m beat, Ria. If you want to look over the report sent to me by Hermione, you can do it on the unit T’talin set aside for me. And can you see if you can find my cell phone?”

  “Oh, I have that. Back in the room. I’m sorry, I forgot. Come on, you can get some sleep.” She offered her hand and he took it. Back in the room, he was asleep within seconds of lying down. She watched him from her table, using his tablet computer to read what his team had uncovered.

  8

  Hammer held back his satisfaction at the resignation of the Pritchard hag. He’d have preferred using her to swing the board his way, but he accepted her retiring. How delightful that one youthful indiscretion could reap such rewards.

  Ordering the expansion of the quarantine zone worked to remove one of the investigators, now he just needed to finish off the cool blonde. Professor Bales certainly held secrets, but her expertise in computer security managed to keep them hidden, for the moment. Contacts from her university days hinted at colleagues the defense department would object to. But those were too old to be off much use.

  Her lack of putting up a real fight for her boss surprised him. Then again, perhaps her personal ambition saw the writing on the wall and she wasn’t ready to sacrifice herself for Sam Montgomery. He’d see today.

  As he approached the meeting room. he thought back to the video call with T’talin. That Aleena had proven stubborn from the very beginning. His father may have overreacted, ordering the terrorist attack on the rig in Mission Bay, but they couldn’t let the fool reveal their presence to the Navy. San Diego paid the price of T’talin’s stubbornness. And they’d both enjoyed satisfaction from knowing the author’s home had been reduced to a toxic wasteland.

  Since then, the aliens had done exactly as directed. At least he’d though that until the revelation regarding Rachel Aster. But that would work to his advantage. The lab would take her apart and discover what they did to keep her alive and youthful. If it was cloning technology, he’d push through a change in the laws and find a way to make it work. Or better yet, keep it underground and charge the rich for the chance to have perfect body parts made available.

  If they’d managed to reverse her age…the potential knew no bounds. He only wished more of her brain were aware. He needed the tests Dr. Drummond ran to ascertain if T’talin lied to him regarding her mental state. The HRSD doctor proved stubborn, claiming the loss of power to the facility compromised the analyzing of the data.

  They lied to him. Not that it mattered, he’d have them all eventually.

  He paused to watch Professor Bales in an animated discussion with Admiral Jenkins. The ancient Admiral snarled at her before spinning away and entering the room ahead of her. She bowed her head and lifted her cell phone, gazing at the screen without reacting.

  Interesting!

  Jenkins followed old school protocol and no doubt objected to the woman attempting to converse with him before the hearing. Hammer decided to take the unusual step of making the first move.

  “Ms. Bales, is everything all right?”

  She glanced from the screen at him, blinked and then slipped the phone into her coat pocket. “Oh, yes, Mr. Hammer, as right as they can be under the circumstances. I only wish I had something substantial to report regarding Agent Montgomery’s disappearance. At least the sailors from the Ballard have been cleared of culpability.”

  “Yes, no doubt they were used to see the woman infiltrate the base. I understand you have been on administrative leave. I’m surprised they are keeping you in the information loop.” He studied her face. Lines had deepened and there were bags under eyes. Her suit didn’t fit as well as the last one, and he took note of a small stain on the cuff. Signs of distraction.

  “I’m not part of the ongoing investigation, but I do have contacts and of course, since I considered Montgomery a friend as well as colleague, Agent Billings stays in touch, hoping I might be contacted. Nothing so far. Too much time has passed, Montgomery isn’t stupid. He knows his cover has been blown.” She shifted attention to the door. “Might as well go in and face the firing squad.”

  “It is unfortunate that a brilliant woman such as yourself has been caught up in this fiasco. I do h
ave some influence; perhaps we could meet for dinner and discuss the possibility of my helping you.” He took her arm and guided her to the door, pressing his knuckles slightly along the curve of her bust. She didn’t appear to notice, but he had no doubt she did. An agent this well trained wouldn’t miss the subtle notice of intent.

  “Perhaps.” She swallowed and took a deliberate step to the podium at the head of the table.

  Excellent, she didn’t like him but acknowledged his power.

  Just the place he liked his women.

  He opened with suggesting they deny the request for leave from Agent Dancer. “It removes him from our oversight and could be nothing more than an excuse to meet up with Agent Montgomery.”

  The argument raged across the table, Professor Bales pleading that the man deserved a chance to assist his family in moving.

  “Nonsense, packing and arranging for a truck isn’t something beyond anyone’s powers. The risk is too great.”

  In the end, he won, though Admiral Jenkins scowled and mumbled at the lack of compassion being shown. But the Admiral had lost a substantial amount of family when the Shakes abruptly crossed into Oklahoma, leaving him vulnerable to charges of sentimentality.

  No doubt Agent Dancer would attempt to resign and find himself under house arrest. Another lever to use against Bales.

  Hermione knew that Harold had already left for New Mexico hours ago. With him traveled the cure for the Shakes, already in the hands of a dozen labs Drum knew of. All she wanted at the moment consisted of a scalding shower and an industrial sized bottle of disinfectant to wash away Hammer’s knuckle grope at her breast.

  The arrogance of the man knew no bounds, obviously. No doubt he intended to use Harold’s tragedy to manipulate her into a corner where he’d dictate her surrender. She already knew it wouldn’t do any good and his sources sucked if he thought she would pander herself that way.

  She stood, leaning on the podium and studied how Hammer maneuvered. Evaluating the men and women at the table, she deduced that Pritchard was correct, Admiral Jenkins didn’t like the contractor or appreciate his being part of these proceedings.