My Life During Wartime: Guardians of the Timeline - Book 2

By Stephen W. Killam

The Guardians of the Timeline hail from the Hundred Worlds universe, a series of colonized worlds at the far reaches of the galaxy. Empowered with information about future events, their mission is to protect the people of Earth from malevolent criminals from the Hundred Worlds and ensure that the timeline is not disrupted by the actions of any interdimensional travelers. After thirty years of a covert war only a handful of Hundred Worlds criminals remain on Earth. The last surviving Guardians have teamed up with a top secret government organization assigned to investigate extraterrestrial visitors and interdimensional threats. When a pair of spacecraft land on Earth in late 2004 and make demands to take over part of the United States the team faces its greatest challenge. After their base is attacked by the interdimensional terrorists the Guardians are forced to ally with their lifelong enemies to defend the Earth and protect the timeline from destruction. A fast paced, riveting adventure unfolds as the unlikely allies battle their mutual enemies in My Life During Wartime, the sequel to A Flight of Onesimus which introduced the team of Hundred Worlds heroes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Apr 23, 2010
• ISBN: 9781450084697

Stephen W. Killam

Stephen W. Killam grew up in Massachusetts, graduated from Texas A&M in 1985, and currently lives near Chicago. He is married to Annette and together they have raised four wonderful children. Stephen is the creator of the Hundred Worlds universe and the author of the Guardians of the Timeline sci-fi adventure series.

Book preview

Copyright © 2010 by Stephen W. Killam.

Library of Congress Control Number:         2010905310

ISBN:   Hardcover     978-1-4500-8468-0

             Softcover       978-1-4500-8467-3

            Ebook              978-1-4500-8469-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted

in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,

without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This novel contains lyrics from the song Life During Wartime

by David Byrne, Christopher Frantz, Jerry Harrison, Tina Weymouth.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the

product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance

to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

77608

CONTENTS

Dramatis Personae

Prologue   The Collapsing Box in the Oval Office

Chapter 1   The Flashback

Chapter 2   The Trash near Tranquility Base—Hangar 19

Chapter 3   The Crash of the Criminals—Hangar 20

Chapter 4   The Derelicts of the Civil War—Hangar 21

Chapter 5   The Mutineer

Chapter 6   The Prisoner Transfers

Chapter 7   The Capture

Chapter 8   The Jailbreak

Chapter 9   A Van That Is Loaded with Weapons

Chapter 10   Some Gravesites Out by the Highway

Chapter 11   Trouble in Transit

Chapter 12   We Make a Pretty Good Team

Epilogue   I Might Not Ever Get Home

For Annette

You will always be my first and foremost love,

and our threefold cord will never be broken

AVK%20with%20gun%20portrait.jpg

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

INTERDIMENSIONAL SEARCH AND RESCUE TEAM (INSERT)

Commander Stephen Xavier Davis, INSERT field operative, former Hundred Worlds fighter pilot, former slave of Wild Phil

The Guardian, also known as AVK and by several other aliases with the same initials, INSERT field operative, Timeline Guardian

Michelle-Michele Davis, INSERT field operative, daughter of Commander Davis, former slave of Wild Phil

Justin Tyner, INSERT field operative, Timeline Guardian

Dr. Jennifer Ames, INSERT scientist

Bullinger Ecks, INSERT commander, Washington DC

Hawthorne Smith, INSERT section leader, Area 52

Major Washington, INSERT military liaison, Area 52

Major Albert Thornton, INSERT assault team leader

Bubba Kennedy, INSERT technician

Hundred Worlds

Phillip Thomas, also known as Wild Phil, smuggler, petty criminal, gambler, and original owner of the Tres Ochos starship. Former master of Commander Davis, Commander Colson, and Michelle-Michele Davis

Commander Cornelius Colson, Hundred Worlds fighter pilot, onetime slave of Wild Phil

Michele Colson, Commander Colson’s wife, Commander Davis’ sister, Michelle-Michele’s aunt

Michelle Davis, Commander Davis’ wife, Commander Colson’s sister, Michelle-Michele’s mother

Commodore Kirk Betancourt, leader of a Hundred Worlds fighter group, including Badger Squadron

Solomon Robertson, hyperspace gate transportation pilot, leader of Beta Guardians

Joseph Cruz, Guardian blockade pilot

Anaconda, Cobra, Falcon, Leopard, Puma, Viper, and Vulture, Hundred Worlds criminals

Central Intelligence Agency

Director Geoff Van Allen, Director of CIA Paranormal Research

Agent Harvey Long, CIA paranormal research team

Special Agent Victor Johnson, CIA covert operations agent

Special Agent Cletus Johnson, CIA covert operations agent

Special Agent Oscar Dotel, CIA covert operations agent

Dr. Beverly Anne Johnson, CIA psychiatrist

Others

Captain Henderson, New Mexico state police

Sergeant Charles Phillips, New Mexico state police

Dr. William Phillips, New Mexico state mental hospital staff, brother of Charles

Rico, orderly at New Mexico state mental hospital

Junior, orderly at New Mexico state mental hospital, brother of Rico

Sally Bird, patient at New Mexico state mental hospital

Black Angus, friend of Justin Tyner

Lil Fox, friend of Black Angus

Larry Chen, Jimmy Jay, and Adam Horowitz, rival UFO-conspiracy theorists

PROLOGUE

THE COLLAPSING BOX IN THE OVAL OFFICE

11:00 A.M., DECEMBER 16, 2004, WASHINGTON DC

It was just five days before the winter solstice, which meant the residents of the nation’s capitol were less than a week away from the shortest day and longest night of the year. The president of the United States had been too busy to notice the shrinking daylight hours. At the moment, he was flowing through a morning like so many others—busy with a series of back-to-back meetings crammed into the first half of the day.

As a group of people walked out of the Oval Office, the president’s chief of staff and his science advisor walked in together and started briefing him on the meeting which was scheduled to begin in fifteen minutes. Two members of the National Academy of Science had scheduled a meeting with the president to discuss alternative energy sources. They had managed to squeeze a thirty-minute meeting onto the president’s agenda just four days ago. Neither he nor his science advisor had met them previously. After a quick review on the topics of energy reserves, emerging energy technologies, and recent changes in relations with oil-producing countries, the president was ready.

A man and woman entered the room, and the chief of staff motioned for them to take a seat on a couch. The president rose from behind his desk and sat down next to his advisor, as his chief of staff left the room. The visitors were dressed in expensive dark blue business suits. The man wore a bright red tie, and the woman wore a matching bright red scarf. They looked like they could be brother and sister—possibly even twins.

At first glance, both appeared to be about thirty years old. However, their smooth skin caused the president to wonder if they were as young as twenty, while their dead-serious expressions caused the science advisor to wonder if they were as old as forty-five. They appeared to be of mixed racial heritage, making it impossible to tell their national ancestry. Each of them had light brown hair which had been frosted; the man’s was slicked back with gel, and the woman’s was pulled back into a tight bun. They were tanned, but you could not tell if their dark skin was natural or the result of hours in a tanning salon. Their medium-brown eyes had a slight fold, indicating at least a portion of Asian heritage.

Speaking at exactly the same time, they gave the president a polite greeting as they opened a black leather bag and removed a laptop computer. They set it on a table with the screen facing him and his advisor. As a video began to play, the screen displayed the image of an enormous ice sheet in a remote Arctic location. Latitude and longitude coordinates were shown at the bottom of the screen. The dark blue waves of the ocean lapped at its base.

Although it was difficult to gauge the scale of the scene, it appeared that the camera was panning across a mile of ice which was several hundred feet thick. As a faint red glow covered the ice, it began to melt rapidly. Large chunks broke free and fell into the ocean. In ninety seconds, it was gone, and a narrator’s voice spoke.

That was not time-lapse photography, Mr. President.

The leader of the United States remained silent, as the screen flashed a new image—a tropical rain forest. Another set of latitude and longitude coordinates was posted, but no other information was provided to make it clear where the image was recorded. Again, a faint red glow covered the landscape. The camera gradually pulled back, and the forest was more clearly seen as a tropical island with a white sand beach at one end. After the camera stopped adjusting the view, the lush, green island paradise burst into flames.

The narrator said, That was not one of Hollywood’s special effects.

As the laptop displayed a third image, no one in the room said anything. The president and his advisor focused on a desert landscape. Once again, it was difficult to tell how large an expanse they were viewing. There were dunes which appeared as waves in an ocean of sand. As in the previous two scenes, a set of coordinates was displayed on the screen, and a red glow appeared. This time, it was a circle covering perhaps thirty square miles of desert landscape. After a quick flash, the camera drew closer to one particular dune—it had melted into a hunk of glass, and the landscape around it was smoldering.

The narrator spoke a third time. Flashing desert into glass, scorching an entire island rain forest, melting a glacier in an instant—these are some quick examples of our power. Check the coordinates. Inspect the damage.

A fourth image became clear on the screen—Manhattan Island.

The man and the woman spoke simultaneously. We are here to negotiate—

Before they could finish, the president cut them off. The United States does not negotiate with terrorists.

The pair of visitors spoke together. We are not terrorists. We are interdimensional travelers. We have come to stay.

The president stood up from his seat on the couch and walked back to his desk, as four Secret Service agents marched into the Oval Office. The visitors removed another laptop from a second black leather bag and continued speaking.

Your ancestors traveled to a new world with horses and weapons, to steal land from the native people of North America. Similarly, we have come to this new world and brought our superior technology with us. Now we want land from you. We will leave you that computer on the table. It contains the details of our proposed treaty and the consequences for your country if you refuse it.

As they finished their short speech, the laptop they had pulled from the second bag began to transform rapidly. In an instant, it unfolded into a black box, six feet tall and four feet wide on each side. The Secret Service agents approached the pair of visitors as they stepped inside the only open end of the box. As the lead agent reached toward the box to grab the male visitor, a solid wall formed to close the open side.

Two other agents flanked the president at his desk while the fourth one drew a handgun, pointed it at the black box, and said, Don’t touch anything.

Silently, the box began to fold in on itself. In a few seconds, it had collapsed back into what appeared to be a laptop lying on the carpet. The president spoke calmly into a phone on his desk. Get me the secretary of defense and the national security advisor.

A half hour later, the national security advisor arrived, accompanied by two men whom the president had never met. The NSA greeted her boss and instructed the president’s science advisor and the four Secret Service agents to leave with one of her companions. In a moment, those six men exited the Oval Office, leaving the NSA and her colleague with the commander in chief.

As soon as the door was closed, the NSA addressed her boss, saying, The secretary of defense will not be joining us. I have asked Mr. Ecks to provide a briefing instead. He is the leader of a security organization which you have not been told about yet. One we call INSERT, the Interdimensional Search and Rescue Team.

Mr. Ecks stood, extended his hand to the president, shook his hand, and spoke. "Bullinger Ecks. It is an honor to meet you, Mr. President. I will do my very best to get you up to speed on the role of INSERT in national security, but before I do, I want to assure you that it is not uncommon for a sitting president to be kept unaware of the INSERT organization. Of the five other presidents who held office since our inception, only one was ever briefed at all.

"Today’s contact with the interdimensional travelers has necessitated my visit. Since 1969, we have been aware that there are indeed visitors to our planet from outside our solar system. We have recovered several of their vehicles over the years. Approximately three years ago, the first live travelers made contact with us. Fortunately, they have become our allies and have helped to explain the origins of the others who have come here over the years.

Earlier this week, two other vehicles crossed the boundary into our space. One disappeared in the Indian Ocean, and the other crashed in the Gulf of Mexico. We have sent one of our teams to investigate that crash site, and we were preparing to schedule a briefing with you, once we had the information from that investigation. This morning’s visit accelerated the timing of the briefing.

The president looked over to the NSA, raised his eyebrows, and looked back to Mr. Ecks. Please continue.

Mr. Ecks began by watching the video on the laptop that the travelers had left behind. Together with the president and the NSA, he heard the travelers’ demands. The three of them spent a few minutes discussing how those demands could be met, before the president suggested they save that decision for another time, and invited Ecks to continue the briefing.

He continued by informing the commander in chief of the history of the organization, the location of INSERT headquarters, its size and budget, and its three primary goals. He supplied the basic information concerning the vehicles and occupants they had recovered over the years, and the basic theories of interdimensional travel. He concluded by relaying what his team had learned during interviews with the live travelers that had joined INSERT in 2001—the amazing truth that there were billions of humans living in their own galaxy on planets light-years away from Earth.

When he had finished, the president simply said, I won’t bother asking how that box folded in on those people and allowed them to vanish into thin air, because you’d probably tell me it was a form of interdimensional travel, but I do have three questions. First, Ecks, as in the twenty-fourth letter of the alphabet—that’s not your real name is it? Second, what do you recommend that we do next? Third, who was the other president to be briefed on the role of INSERT in national security?

Ecks deadpanned, Mr. President, in answer to your first question, you may call me by my first name, Bullinger, or my nickname, Bull, if you prefer. In answer to your second, I think it is time you come see where my team works, to get a firsthand look at what we call Area 52. In answer to your third, respectfully, I am not at liberty to say.

CHAPTER 1

THE FLASHBACK

8:00 A.M., DECEMBER 18, 2004, ABOARD AIR FORCE 1

On the flight from Washington, the president of the United States was carefully considering the travelers’ demands. Intelligence-gathering satellites confirmed that the melted glacier, the burnt tropical island, and the scorched desert were real events that had taken place in the last forty-eight hours.

The travelers, as they called themselves, had given him just ten days to completely evacuate the Hawaiian Islands. These interdimensional terrorists, as he called them, demanded that every man, woman, and child be off the island chain by December 26, or the islands would be destroyed. He reasoned that evacuating more than one million people in just over a week was probably impossible.

Therefore, he had to defeat these new terrorists or find a way to extend their deadline; otherwise, citizens would die, the travelers would select a new territory to occupy, and then make a similar demand. As the president’s jet made its way to the secret base hidden inside the White Sands Missile Range in New Mexico, he pondered the reality that an organization of nearly a hundred people had been operating in secret for the last thirty-five years.

Apparently, only a core group of them knew the entire truth about their operation. Many support staff dutifully executed their missions, unaware of the whole truth or their entire purpose. The core lived and worked at Area 52, which was a community of those who shared above-top-secret clearance—access to the nation’s most exclusive technology and information. Other than Mr. Ecks, they did not maintain presence in the Pentagon or any other government installation.

When necessary, Ecks would make contact with the national security advisor as had happened two days ago. Usually, contact was made in order to get specific information, advice, or approval for action, and was quickly followed with an erasure of the contacted person’s memory. As a result, no one knew what they did or that they even existed—yet today, they were dealing with an unprecedented situation in which more than a million lives were at stake. In a world where it seemed like crisis layered upon crisis, the president found himself dealing with, by far, the biggest one yet.

Meanwhile, Bull Ecks thought about his meeting with the first live interdimensional travelers. It had been just over three years ago. Those travelers were Commander Stephen Xavier Davis and his daughter Michelle-Michele Davis. They arrived in an interdimensional vehicle they called the Tres Ochos. Commander Davis preferred to be called simply by his title—commander. Although it was awkward, his daughter preferred to be called by her hyphenated name, Michelle-Michele, rather than the more common single name, Michelle. After the young lady corrected him the third time, he never made the mistake again.

The Davis family had crossed the boundary into our dimension on September 8, 2001, during a battle with law enforcement officers from their own world. Their ship was damaged, as were two others involved in the fight. They left their damaged ship in an attempt to scavenge spare parts from the other wrecks. Enemies of theirs, who had been on Earth for decades, fought against their plan.

During this skirmish, the father-and-daughter team received assistance from two other people—descendants of interdimensional travelers that had come to Earth a generation earlier. One was a twenty-one-year-old who called himself Justin Tyner, and the other was an adult woman who identified herself as the Guardian of the Timeline. At the end of a tumultuous four days, the commander, his daughter, and their two new friends decided to stay on Earth and help INSERT, in the event that there were any future interdimensional attacks.

That day, Ecks made an emergency flight to INSERT headquarters in New Mexico, and spent the entire afternoon and most of the night learning information that explained many of the mysteries that INSERT had been trying to solve since its inception.

Aboard a research vessel in the Gulf of Mexico, one of Ecks’ senior staff members was remembering that very same day. Dr. Jennifer Ames had been present when the Tres Ochos landed at Area 52 on the morning of September 12, 2001. She could recall the urgent pounding on her door that woke her from sleep. She was dressed in the same clothes she wore as she fell asleep, contemplating interdimensional travelers and staring at her ceiling fan.

Dr. Ames, you must come to the airstrip immediately. It was the voice of one of the air force MPs.

She jumped up, glanced at the clock, and yelled to the MP, I’m up. Hold on. I’ll be there.

The MP simply replied, Yes, Doctor.

Two minutes later, they were running together toward the door, which led to the Area 52 airstrip. As they burst through the door, they found a phalanx of Area 52 staffers surrounding an open space. As she looked over their heads, there seemed to be an inordinate amount of heat distorting the view of the hangar on the other side of the airstrip. She stared at the hangar door. It seemed to shimmer and bend before being obstructed by a blurry silver object.

The blur faded, and a collective gasp rose from the crowd, which found itself facing the gleaming hull of the Tres Ochos. For thirty seconds after the cloak was deactivated, no one moved. A crack opened at the back end of the hull, and a door lowered to the tarmac. Several MPs drew their automatic rifles and aimed them at the door.

To their shock, a dark blue Suburban backed out of the door and down to the airstrip. It drove slowly toward the center of the group on just three good tires, wobbling but maintaining a straight course, before stopping in front of the spot where Dr. Ames stood with two of her colleagues, Major Washington and Mr. Smith. After the vehicle stopped, four doors opened at once. The commander, the Guardian, Justin Tyner, and Michelle-Michele Davis walked around to the front of the vehicle and joined hands. The Guardian spoke for the group.

Good morning, I am AVK, a Timeline Guardian of the Hundred Worlds. I am honored to introduce you to Commander Davis of the Hundred Worlds Security Forces, his daughter, Michelle-Michele Davis, and Justin Tyner, a native of Earth, a citizen of the state of Texas, and a descendant of Hundred Worlds Guardians. Together we have come to offer INSERT our help with your interdimensional challenges. Our enemies are the same as yours, and I think that we are going to need each other. We hope that together, we will be able to keep Earth safe, and the timeline secure.

The INSERT staff was silent. Although Dr. Ames was not the senior member of the team, her acquaintance with the group who drove out of the ship gave her the courage to speak first. Commander, we don’t want your ship to be seen. Would you please activate its cloaking mechanism? After a pause, she added, Or if you like, you can park it inside. She pointed to a row of aircraft hangars.

The commander nodded and looked to his left at a building identified as hangar 22. Dr. Ames’ boss, Mr. Smith, was standing next to her, and he leaned down to whisper in her ear, I think this corroborates your account of the last several days. I am glad I granted you the above-top-secret rating last night, because you clearly deserve it. Together they approached Commander Davis, his daughter, and their two friends.

The commander was a bit over six feet tall and wore a grey coverall with an array of pockets. He stood straight with his arms folded across his chest and looked like a career military man whose athletic body was toned by the years of physical training required of a true warrior. He was clean-shaven and wore his hair in the military style. It was cut too short to tell if there was any grey in it. His age appeared to be right at the point where that might be the case.

Michelle-Michele had the slender body of a teenager who was either still growing or had just reached her full height. She stood next to her father with her head leaning on his shoulder. Her hair was slightly longer than shoulder length and pulled into a ponytail. She was dressed in a coverall just like her father’s and wore no makeup. Her bright, expressive eyes and big smile made her more attractive in her natural state than a thousand others who enhanced their looks with various beauty products.

Standing next to Michelle-Michele was Justin Tyner, who looked like he was about twenty. It was anyone’s guess as to whether the stubble on his chin was growing due to lack of attention or carefully premeditated grooming. He was wearing a plain white T-shirt, well-worn blue jeans, and an Arizona Diamondbacks baseball cap that covered his short hair. He slouched a bit and appeared to be about four or five inches taller than Michelle-Michele and four or five inches shorter than her father.

Standing next to him was the woman who had introduced the group and identified herself as a Timeline Guardian. She had thick, dark hair and what could best be described as natural good looks. She seemed like the type of woman who would be equally comfortable in a pair of overalls or an evening gown, and who would be able to easily make either outfit look great. She was about the same height as Michelle-Michele and was wearing crisp blue jeans and an expensive-looking black leather jacket. Like the commander, she held her arms across her chest.

She smiled at Dr. Ames, and then turned to face Michelle-Michele. I’ll drive the car, and you park the spacecraft.

The teenager laughed and said, Hangar 22, I’ll meet you inside.

Dr. Ames smiled to herself as she remembered that moment. The Guardian and Michelle-Michele fit in right from the start. All the best members of the team seemed to be that way—they just sort of clicked. All INSERT staff had been carefully selected before being given even a basic assignment, and then were granted higher levels of security clearance as their expanding responsibilities dictated. Many were dismissed after temporary assignments without ever really understanding exactly what the organization did.

That is how it had been with Jen in the beginning. She had been invited to join after the work she was doing for her PhD caught the attention of the INSERT staff. Jen had always been the smartest person in her class. It was true throughout her public school education in suburban Houston, culminating in her graduation from high school at the age of 16. It continued to be true during her undergraduate work at Texas A&M University where she graduated with a BS in Physics after three years, added a BA in Russian Language the following year, and an MS in Physics the year after that.

Her unique five-year plan resulted in three degrees by the time she was twenty-one. With that accomplishment, she could have pursued a doctorate anywhere she chose and most likely, would have been the smartest person in doctoral studies wherever she had decided to go. She decided to stay on at A&M for several reasons. It was close to home, and she loved the unique traditions. Most importantly, she had developed a bond of trust with her supervising professor who had accepted her unique field of study—extradimensions.

Jen was cautious about sharing her theories with those she did not know well. Her mentor, Dr. Annabel Gomez, realized that her student was a rare prodigy, not only brilliant but gifted to think beyond commonly held beliefs. Dr. Gomez saw her mentorship of Jen as one of the most important aspects of her purpose in life. In a profound tragedy, she died in a car accident before she saw her prized student graduate with her PhD.

Jen took an appropriate time to grieve, yet struggled for more than a year afterward to get back on track. Finally she renewed her dedication to proving her theories as a way to give tribute to Dr. Gomez. Her work was devoted to understanding the extradimensional nature of the fabric of space and time.

Dr. Jennifer Ames understood that space was formed of ten dimensions: one dimension of time and nine dimensions of space. However, she was searching for a reality beyond this truth. Her curiosity was rewarded with the discovery of two new three-dimensional regions of space. She believed that if we could find a way to open those dimensions, we could access space within space and potentially revolutionize travel.

It was her new supervising professor who alerted INSERT of her studies. When she joined INSERT, she was asked to help develop a detector to identify any breach in the extradimensions. A year later, her equipment detected the entry of the Tres Ochos and two other spacecraft. A few days after that, she was taken captive by interdimensional criminals and rescued by Commander Davis. As fate would have it, she escaped a disaster atop the World Trade Center by jumping through a passage in extradimensions as she joined the commander, Michelle-Michele, and Justin diving through a portal created by what they said was called an 8-9-10 space-point generator.

Approximately three years and three months later, the four of them had been summoned to investigate the most recent rupture in normal space. The crash of the vehicle she had detected lay on the ocean floor underneath the ship she was resting in now. They were set to take a submersible down to investigate in just over an hour. While she waited, she allowed herself to continue remembering the day the Tres Ochos landed at Area 52.

11:00 A.M., SEPTEMBER 12, 2001, OUTSIDE ALAMOGORDO,

NEW MEXICO (AREA 52)

The Tres Ochos was parked at the far end of hangar 22. The ship looked like a flattened, silver ball which had been polished to a mirrorlike finish. There were several scorch marks on the hull. Two of them surrounded holes which penetrated into the interior of the ship, exposing pipes, tanks, and wires. The ship measured approximately sixty feet long and stood forty feet tall. It fit quite nicely into the hangar. The roof and sides of the hangar reflected off the metal surface of the ship, which rested on its belly on the polished concrete floor.

On the left side of the hull was a wing, which looked like it was capable of independent flight if detached. It was, in fact, a one-man fighter. Careful examination of the right side revealed a place where an identical vehicle could be attached, but was missing. At one end was a transparent window section. On the opposite end were three cylindrical protrusions, the engines that powered the ship. They were set with one above the midline of the hull and two under the midline.

Beneath the bottom two engines was a ramp that extended to the floor. To the left of the ramp, Dr. Ames sat at a metal table across the commander, Michelle-Michele, Justin, and the Guardian. A major in an air force uniform sat next to her. His name tag read Washington. The major owned a completely serious demeanor which seemed to be masking a barely contained excitement. His businesslike countenance was just what one would expect from a man in leadership of the most secret organization in his government.

The commander looked at him across the table and wondered how he might have got the bruise under his left eye.

Washington opened the conversation, saying, Commander Davis, I apologize for the shots that were fired on your ship yesterday. There was a breakdown in communication with the pilot. It was not my intention to attack your ship on your first visit to Earth.

Dr. Ames added, Yeah, that mistake cost him a black eye.

The major chuckled, and everyone at the table grinned in response.

Washington looked over to Ames and asked her if she wanted to begin the discussion. She nodded, and began, We have been asked to hold off on any prolonged questioning until Mr. Ecks arrives. He is the highest-ranking official of the Interdimensional Search and Rescue Team, and he is on his way from DC right now. We would like to take the next couple of hours to help you understand what we do here. We might have to wait to answer some of your questions, but I think this orientation will help, so that you’ll be ready to answer our questions after Mr. Ecks arrives.

Michelle-Michele gave an answer. Our experiences over the last four days have helped guide us to a decision to stay and help you. My dad and I prayed about it, and we believe this is what we are supposed to do. I think the sooner we understand what your mission is, the better we will understand how we can help.

Both Commander Davis and Michelle-Michele spoke with an odd foreign accent. Their pronunciation sounded like that of a European who had learned English as a second language.

The Guardian added, I have spent my entire life trying to ensure that no one from outside your timeline disrupts the natural flow of events. I learned yesterday that Justin has been doing the same thing. We are each descendants of those who came here more than forty years ago to preserve the timeline.

The Guardian spoke English fluently. Her accent reminded you of someone who had moved frequently during their formative years—a little bit East Coast and a little bit something else from the South.

Justin corrected her. Well actually, my parents came here a little later, in 1975. But she is right, in that our parents, their teams, and now both of us have devoted our lives to helping you, even when you did not know it. Justin sounded like he was from either Oklahoma or Texas.

As he finished his sentence, a man in a black suit, white shirt, and a grey tie walked up to the table. He removed his suit jacket and hung it on the back of the metal chair. He flashed a big smile and introduced himself. "Good morning, I am Mr. Smith. Other than Mr. Ecks, who is on his way, I am the highest-ranking official in INSERT. I run this facility, Area 52, as we call it.

First of all, I want to express my sincerest gratitude to all of you for saving Dr. Ames yesterday. I am not sure what we would do without her. From what she tells me, you also saved our planet, but we will hold off that until Mr. Ecks gets here. Dr. Ames, I believe you were about to explain our operation to our guests.

Jennifer lay on her bunk and recalled how exuberant she was describing the threefold mission of INSERT on that day, thirty-nine months ago. Until the day before, she had only been privy to the detection mission of INSERT. That night, she had been told the entire purpose of the organization and shown things that only a handful of people had ever been allowed to see.

She reasoned that Smith allowed her to explain while he observed, so that he could gauge how well she had assimilated what she had recently learned. As it turned out, she hadn’t missed a thing. She had accurately explained the threefold mission: detection, research, and deception.

The detection mission was simple to understand. INSERT was constantly searching for any indication of interdimensional disruption, indicating travelers coming into the space around Earth. The team believed that it was impossible for even an advanced civilization to travel faster than light, and they worked on the theory that the extraterrestrial encounters they had documented came from extradimensions rather than from other star systems.

The research mission involved the analysis of the interdimensional vehicles that had been recovered and were stored at Area 52. The revelation of the vehicles which had been held in secret for decades amazed her and kept her awake for most of the night.

The deception mission involved a multifaceted approach to ensure that the general population never discovered the truth about interdimensional travelers. A large part of the strategy revolved around the perpetuation of the Area 51 urban legend. INSERT headquarters was located deep within the White Sands Missile Range in New Mexico, and the more the conspiracy theorists focused on Area 51 in Nevada than White Sands, the better. Additional misinformation was purposely spread concerning unidentified flying objects, extraterrestrials, lights in the sky, and little green men. The more the population focused on UFOs from outer space than on travelers from other dimensions, the better. She recalled how just as she finished her orientation, Mr. Ecks walked across the hangar floor.

I hope that you have found the orientation beneficial, said Ecks as he approached the table.

We have, answered the commander. I understand you have some questions for us. We are here to help you, and that help begins with the information we can provide concerning the events of the last several days.

Ecks walked over to the commander’s side of the table and extended his hand. Proper introductions are in order, Commander Davis. It is an honor to meet you. My name is Bullinger Ecks.

Ecks worked his way around the table, introducing himself to the others in the room.

When he was done, the commander approached him, motioned toward the ramp leading into the Tres Ochos, and said, Perhaps we should step on board.

The commander led his daughter, Justin, the Guardian, and the four INSERT staff members into the Tres Ochos.

This is our cargo bay, said the commander, as they entered a long tunnel with a lighted door at the far end and a series of evenly spaced entries along each side. When Ecks stood in the corridor and looked right into one entry and then left into the opposite one, he estimated he could see at least a hundred yards in each direction. He estimated that the inside of the cargo bay was approximately the size of a large football stadium.

Is this extradimensional space? asked Ecks.

Technically it is what we call 5-6-7 space. Normal space is called 1-2-3 space. This ship uses 5-6-7 space to store cargo and 8-9-10 space to store fuel, explained the commander.

Dimension four is time, I presume?

Correct.

Excuse me, Commander, interrupted Mr. Smith, I’ve been taught that we live in a ten-dimensional universe, but I thought the other six dimensions of space had been separated from the four we experience now and have been curled up too tightly for us to use since the Creation event.

Wait a second. I am a soldier, not a scientist. Your understanding of physics is correct. Since we cannot practically use those six dimensions, we have taken to the convention of assigning the designations of 5-6-7 and 8-9-10 to a pair of alternate universes we discovered and use for storage as I described. I am afraid that the details are just a bit beyond my education, answered the commander.

"Alternate universes," gasped Smith.

Well, yes. They’re empty, of course. Engineers open a passage into one of them, and then build a space into it… or something like that, answered the commander with as much confidence as a soldier could muster when discussing extradimensional physics. As he finished the conversation, they all stood at a door which was adorned with a large number one on it. The door opened automatically as they approached and the eight walked through it into the main cabin.

The folks who worked for INSERT looked all around the inside of the Tres Ochos in silence. After a few moments, Ecks respectfully asked, Please tell us how you got here, and what happened at the World Trade Center yesterday morning.

The commander motioned for the group to take seats on the benches and chairs in the main cabin while he moved to the center of the room to address the group.

"Four days ago, my daughter and I were part of the crew on this ship, slaves of our former master, one Phillip Thomas. Our master had just finished delivering a shipment to a planet we call New Earth. We left that planet in haste and were pursued by two fighters from the planet’s defense corps. Our business there had not been entirely legal. The truth is that much of the cargo our master delivered during the time of our servitude was illegal.

"During our escape, we flew through an unmarked star portal. I do not know why our master took that course of action. We emerged on the other side in your star system pursued by the fighters. We engaged them in a battle as we approached this planet. The Tres Ochos is equipped with two attack craft that are able to detach from the ship and defend it. I flew one, and my dear friend Commander Colson flew the other.

"Despite our best efforts, our master’s ship was damaged during the battle. One of the enemy fighters was destroyed, and the other was damaged. Unfortunately, Commander Colson’s fighter was damaged as well. He died, as did both enemy pilots.

"We tracked those damaged ships to the western coast of this continent. They crashed inland, and we made a landing to the west. Our master ordered Michelle-Michele and me to split up and go to the sites of the wreckage on a mission, to retrieve repair parts from what was left of them. We left the ship and met Justin. He agreed to drive us close to the wreckage.

"The next morning, Justin and Michelle-Michele searched one site while I searched another. Shortly after my