The two men stared at her.
“Why the last one?”
“If you were to have one aspect of your character enhanced, assuming the first two are already in place, what would it be?” Michelle asked Jim.
“Mine would be to save lives and to heal the sick,” said Kyle, almost without hesitation.
<<I know, that is why I didn’t ask you. Just let the man answer,>> she thought, and Kyle had to smile, as she looked hard at Jim all the time.
Jim almost smiled, as he thought about it.
<<Are you reading my mind?>> he asked her.
<<No, I said that I wouldn’t and I don’t lie.>>
“It would have to be to fight for openness and honesty in Government, across the world.”
Michelle looked at him, and her smile broadened.
“Here speaks the man in charge of a secret team, running out of Base X investigating the secrets of secret alien visitors, and the whole caboose would be denied by the politicians in Washington in a thrice,” she said, and even Jim smiled.
“You never answered my question,” Jim said.
“No, you are right. I didn’t. But then it was just part of who I am, or was, rather.”
Jim looked at her.
“Will you ever tell me where you originate from?”
“Probably. I have nothing to hide. But I do have others to protect, so it is not for my benefit that I keep this back,” she said.
Jim nodded, but Kyle was frowning as he went over all that she had said.
“Michelle, you said you were a partial construct. What does that mean?”
“A construct is someone who is constructed from scratch. For me, they simply improved what was already in existence.”
He was frowning. His knowledge of clone techniques was scant. Most of what he did know came from science fiction rather than medical journals.
“How much of you is actually original?” he asked.
“That, my dear, is this girl’s little secret,” she said, standing up. “Look guys, this is very interesting, but I’ve an appointment to keep, and I’m starving. Perhaps while I’m eating, you could locate a reliable guide for the area in question?”
Jim took down a map of the desert, and Michelle noticed red crosses at the location where Mike’s body had been discovered.
She jabbed her finger onto the map about seven miles away from there.
“Here, more or less,” she said.
Jim nodded.
“Okay, by tomorrow morning I’ll have someone assigned to you. Do you need a back up team?”
“No. Ideally, I should like to go on my own, but I’m not prepared to get lost, as I have no idea what will happen. Should I not return, then it would help you to know where I went so you could attempt to help me.”
Michelle returned to her quarters, had a shower and changed back into her uniform. She then joined the men in the Officers’ Mess, and there was a sudden hush as the tall blonde made her entrance.
Rumours had been rife about the mysterious female Major who had returned form California with the team, and much speculation had taken place as to her reasons for being here. It was generally accepted that she was a probable suspect for the ‘Avenging Angel’, but even that was doubtful.
There were about sixteen officers in the Mess, and all stared in admiration at the stunning new arrival. Jim observed the relaxed and unruffled manner in which the girl took to new circumstances. Whether she was nervous at running the gauntlet of so many male eyes he was completely ignorant, she appeared not.
“Gentlemen. I’m sure that a lot of mention has already been made of our new team member. So it seems down to me to put rumours to bed, and give you some facts.
“Major Michelle Carter has been assigned to us by Washington as she has valuable experience in areas in which we are lacking. In particular, she had actually had contact with our quarry, and has herself limited ESP. It is felt that her skills may assist us to locate and finally get to the truth of all the whispers that have occurred over the last few decades.
“The Major is an experienced field officer, having been assigned to various intelligence agencies and organisations over the past few years. She has no history with the Air Force, but her rank is confirmed,” he said.
The officers understood immediately. The implication was simple: Michelle was a Special Operative assigned to the team after having worked extensively for either the NSA or the CIA. Her rank was due to her special skills, and not for her record within the Air Force.
Michelle smiled at them all, and accepted a beer in a calm and relaxed manner.
She worked hard below the surface, easing doubts and suspicions out of various officers’ minds. By the end of the meal, they looked on her as a friend, and she had won them over by force of personality rather than mental persuasion.
She went to bed, anxious to get an early start, but worried about returning to New Mexico so soon.
10.
Sergeant Martin Skye was a fifteen-year Marine. His record was impressive. Both Gulf Wars, Grenada, Columbia and several other areas of conflict that had never really been advertised. His speciality was desert warfare, so he was attached to the Marine Training unit for just that purpose.
Part Navajo Native American, Martin never let his ancestry be forgotten, as he only felt at home outside, and the further he was from civilisation, the more at home he felt.
It was therefore with a mixture of relief and curiosity that he took the urgent posting to meet an Air Force Officer in New Mexico at such short notice. He loathed the training camp, even though he did get to spend as much time as he could out in the desert. The problem was he always had to take the trainees with him, and they had no idea as to how to live alongside nature. They were mainly city folk, and were at their most arrogant and stupid when it came to understanding the great outdoors.
He was a very big man, six foot six, and in his early days in the Marines, he had played football for the Corps. He kept his dark hair very short, with a slight suggestion of a Mohican down the middle. His eyes were so dark brown as to be almost black, and together with his tanned complexion he earned his nickname of ‘Red’.
A helicopter collected him at 05:00 and took him to another airbase to meet his companion. All he had been told was to be ready to accompany a Special Ops officer on a highly classified mission. He had put his desert camouflaged combat gear and felt the twinge of curiosity. He didn’t even know on which continent he was destined.
They told him to remain with the Huey, and so he stood and watched as the ground crew refuelled it. It wasn’t to be that far away, he thought to himself.
He watched as a light plane landed. It taxied over to a stand a few hundred yards away. A tall man alighted, dressed in similar attire as he was, and slung a small pack on his back. He was wearing a floppy camouflaged hat, so Red was unable to see his face from this distance.
As soon as the stranger started to walk towards him, Red realised that it wasn’t a man. The woman was very tall, but there was nothing mannish about the way she moved, so Red felt the stirrings of very basic feelings deep within him.
She was one of those rare women who could wear the most unfashionable clothes, and still look as if she should have been on a catwalk. There was something else about this woman that attracted Red. Most women he met were either after a mate, (even just for one evening) or to prove a point. This girl was after neither, yet she exuded sheer freedom, power and exuberance with every movement.
Red swallowed, licking his lips.
He had successfully remained single for all his thirty-three years, making the Corps his life. Women were frequent passengers along his ride of life, but they never stayed. He preferred it that way, as it left his life uncomplicated and free.
As the girl approached, he tried to put an age on her, but had to give up. Her size made it almost impossible, while her flawless beauty transcended all he had ever met in his life.