“What’s running your power?” he asked.
Jackson ignored him so completely Ethan couldn’t even read the man’s mind on the subject. Jackson called over one of the jeans-clad Secret Service agents who’d returned to the area and told him to get a detail and clean the bus out of guns and whatever else was on there, but not to bring the bus inside until that order was given. Then Ethan was marched up the metal stairs by Jackson and the man named Don, along a corridor and to another set of stairs that led up to a beige-carpeted area of closed doors. Jackson unlocked a door marked 5A with a key from a keyring, reached in and flipped on a light switch. He stepped back as Ethan entered. It was a single room with a bed, a dresser, a writing table, lamp and chair and beyond that a small white-tiled bathroom. The wallpaper showed artwork of eagles in flight. There were no windows, since they were well inside the mountain. Cool air was circulating from a wall vent. Jackson closed the door and he and the other man took positions on either side of it.
“You’re going to have a visitor in a few minutes,” Jackson said. “He’ll be very interested to hear your story.”
“That’s fine.” Ethan looked up at the overhead tube-light and the lamp on the table before he sat down on the bed. “You have a lot of power available here. What’s the source?”
Jackson again would not answer, but Ethan got the flicker of a mental image from him: a bright glowing piece of white crystal about the size of a man’s hand, suspended in a transparent cylinder and slowly revolving. Cables ran from the base of the cylinder into machinery in a room that felt to Ethan to be on a lower level below the garage.
Ethan was about to remark on this when the door opened and a man in a gray suit entered, accompanied by another man in a dark blue uniform and cap with many multi-colored bars over his heart. The man in the gray suit wore a white shirt and a blue-patterned tie, he was clean-shaven and slim but healthy in appearance. He looked combative, as if he’d lived every day with his teeth clenched, his lower jaw jutting out just a little too much. He was bald but for a fringe of light brown hair with gray at the temples. He wore horn-rimmed glasses, and his eyes were so pale blue, they were nearly colorless. On his lapel was an American flag pin. The pallid eyes took Ethan in with absolutely no expression on his face, but the military man behind him had a start and actually backed up a pace before Jackson closed the door.
“Sir, this is Ethan Gaines,” Jackson announced. “He tells me he is neither Cypher nor Gorgon, but he does admit to being an alien weapon in the form of a human boy. He says there’s a Gorgon warship closing in from the northeast. He also says he’s—”
“I’ll take it from here, thank you,” said the man in the gray suit, with a quick, clipped manner of speech that Ethan thought could easily become abrasive. “Ethan, why don’t our radars pick this ship up?”
“They have cloaking devices that easily hide them from your systems. May I ask what your name is, and your position?” Vance Derryman, Chief of Staff, came the mental response.
“We’re not here to interview me.”
“All right, Mr. Derryman,” Ethan said. “As chief of staff you have immediate access to the President. May I speak with him?”
It was a moment before Derryman answered, and when he did it was with a thin-lipped smile. His eyes were even more cautious than before. He brought from a pocket a communications device like the one Jackson had used. He pressed a sequence on the keyboard. “Ambler Seven Seven,” he said quietly. “Go to code yellow and scan to the northeast. Also get a team of eyes up top.” He waited for a voice to answer, “Copy that, sir,” and then he put the device away. Ethan picked up Weapons Control from someone. He glanced at the military man, who was scared to death of him, and got the name Winslett, first name Patrick, nicknamed Foggy for some reason. Oh…he used to chain-smoke so much he carried around his own fogbank. Derryman took a seat in the chair and folded his hands together. Then he simply stared at Ethan as if trying out his own powers of mental perception.
“I guess,” Ethan said to the silence, “that my friends have been put in separate rooms and they’re also being interviewed?” He knew it was true, so he went on. “You’ll get the same story from everyone, but please listen closely to what Dave McKane and Olivia Quintero will explain. Also you’ll find Jefferson Jericho of interest. He’s had occasion to be in the presence of the Gorgon queen.”
The silence remained unbroken, but Foggy Winslett looked as nervous as if he expected either Ethan to grow two heads and six arms at any instant, or the roof to crash in on his skull.
“How close is the Gorgon ship now?” Derryman asked, almost as if posing a casual question.
Ethan spent a few seconds in concentration. The mass of this mountain was a little interference, though not enough to mask the ship from him. “Thirty miles, but it’s holding its position.”
“You’re telling them to hold there?”
“No. As you’ll learn from the others, I am a threat to both Gorgons and Cyphers. I want this war to be ended, sir. They don’t understand what I am, and they both want to either capture me, take me apart on their dissection tables, or kill me. I believe they’re thinking they can harness my energy in some way to create new weapons.”
“Your energy,” said Derryman. He nodded. “I’ve seen that in action on the visual feed. Tell me, then…what are you, and why should you want the war to be ended?”
“I have a question to ask you first, before we go any further.” Ethan had been unaware of what he might find here, but his realization of what was running the power at this installation had given him a clue. “Your power source here is not of human design. Where did it come from?”
Derryman hesitated. Ethan could read his mind, but he wanted to hear it, and he knew Derryman was a very intelligent man who fully understood that.
“You’re correct. It’s of alien design. And you knew about that, how?”
“Mr. Jackson didn’t realize he was telling me when I asked.”
“Of course. Well, that’s a very interesting ability you have there, Ethan. I like the silver eyes. They’re a little disconcerting at first, but impressive. I’m assuming there’s some reason for that, maybe you can see a spectrum we can’t?”
“Yes.”
“Nothing is purposeless in the universe, is it? The crystal that powers everything here—and seems to the physicists who have studied it to have unlimited power—comes from Area 51,” Derryman said. “Do you know what that is?”
The knowledge of that, sketchy at best, was in the boy’s brain, but Ethan wanted to hear Derryman’s explanation of it. “I am aware that this planet has been visited many times by other civilizations. I’d like you to tell me the details.”
“Sir,” Winslett said tersely, “I would advise that you—”
“I hear your advice, General, and it is noted.” Derryman’s eyes never left Ethan. “I think our visitor here could pick out every detail of Area 51 from your mind or mine anyway. He’s being gracious in not tromping around in our heads. Also he wants to hear an earthman’s understanding of it. Am I correct there, Ethan?”
“Yes sir.”
“This is the point where I ought to stand up and walk out of here,” Derryman said. “I ought to consider you a threat of the highest magnitude and figure out some way to dispose of you, but that might be a little difficult. It also might be the wrong choice. I’m thinking that you’re an energy source yourself, and you’ve incorporated a human body? Or is that a manufactured form?”
“A human body,” Ethan replied. “I regret that the boy is gone, but it had to be done.”