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  The King rubbed his chin. “I don’t know much about ancient history, but I know someone who does,” he said ringing a bell on the table beside him. The main doors opened and a servant entered. “Please send for Professor Aanod at the University. Please tell him I require his presence as soon as possible,” he said dismissing the servant. The man silently backed through the doors and closed them.

  “Professor Aanod is a renowned expert in archaeology here on Thera. If anyone will know, he will,” the King said. Then he shifted in his seat. “Now if you would, please describe what you found. It sounds fascinating.”

  The captain looked toward Thompson who began the explanation. He was just finishing up when there was a discreet knock at the door and Professor Aanod was escorted in. He stopped and gave a slight bow.

  “Ah, good of you to come on such short notice, Professor,” the King said rising from his seat and extending his hand. “Allow me to make the introductions,” he said, introducing the men present. Professor Aanod was a short and plump man with ruddy cheeks and rumpled clothes. The lines on his forehead and the deep tan indicated long periods out in the weather. The spectacles he wore were smudged and smeared to the point Dickson wondered if he could actually see through them. This was a man dedicated to his work.

  After all had returned to their seats, the King asked, “Professor, we are interested in the ancient history of our world, in particular, what we know about our civilization about 5,000 years ago,” he said calmly.

  The professor lifted an eyebrow. “5,000 years you say. Why that period?” he asked.

  “Let’s just say we were called to explain something a farmer found and we are trying to properly date it,” Dickson said.

  “Well sir, unfortunately we don’t really know much about our civilization at that period,” he said, then holding his hand up. “Not that I haven’t tried, but for some unexplained reason nearly all the relics I have come up with only date since then. I know because one of our scientists came up with a way to date objects using radioactive decay rates,” he said.

  “We called that same thing carbon dating,” Thompson said.

  “Quite right!” the professor said with some glee. “We use the same phrase. Anyway, everything up until that time remains somewhat of a mystery. We do know that there was some sort of ice age or other event at about that time because of the layers of soil in certain areas. But after that many years of erosion, things can get quite muddy,” he said, then looking down at the floor in a thoughtful mood.

  Dickson noticed it and pressed on. “But I take it you have a theory.”

  The professor took a deep breath. “Theory, yes, but hard facts, no,” he said getting up from his chair and pacing the floor. Then he turned sharply to the men. “I will share one thing. Of the few artifacts I have found, I know they are nothing from this world.”

  The King gave him a steady look. “How can you be sure?”

  “Because, Your Majesty, they resemble nothing I have ever seen.”

  The arguments had continued on and off all day. Mike’s father pushing, and Mike fending off the attempts. Each time, Wilkes had gotten even more animated and more forceful. It finally dawned on Mike that his father was trying to assert what he felt was his fatherhood - his “superiority” over his son. Unfortunately, Mike was determined not to give in. It was Mrs. Wilkes that finally called a truce and ordered her husband to retire to the bedroom. Jo had finally gotten Mary to sleep and after a good night kiss, had made her own way to their bedroom. Mike was too keyed up to sleep and made his way again to his basement office. There, amid the digital readouts and information being relayed from the embassy security office he sat back and tried to relax.

  All his life, his father had pushed him, nagged him and in most cases bullied his way through Mike’s life. Always deep in his work, he had never thought how his drives were affecting his son. Mike had grown up in space. The only Earth he had known was inside a photo album. Yet, Mike had immersed himself in everything that was “Earth.” He hungered for the slightest piece of information on its history, languages, culture and advances. In particular, he relished the ideals set forth in the nation called the United States. Mike seemed to feel the need for freedom, the desires for improvement, invention and the peaceful nature of the nation, even when forced into conflict. He was inspired by the will and drive of the people living there. Now those feelings were the ones he shared with the people of Thera. They, in turn, seemed to understand what he felt and share those same goals and aspirations. The feel of their touch on his shoulders and arms today convinced him that these people were a kindred race. He wouldn’t leave now unless forced away at gunpoint, kicking and screaming.

  Mike was sitting back in his chair thinking these warm thoughts when the phone rang. He had already run the line to his office and connected it to his system. He pressed the button on the console and spoke.

  “Hello,” he said.

  “How pleasant it is to talk to you again, Mister Wilkes,” came a familiar voice.

  At first Mike was unsure of who it was. The voice was definitely familiar, but something from his past.

  “It has been so long since I had you and your bride in my humble embrace,” came the voice again.

  A sudden realization came over Mike’s face as he recognized the voice. In an almost gasp he whispered, “Brana.”

  “How good it is that you remember me, my young friend. Of course, I remember you.”

  “So you were the one,” Mike said slowly.

  “Oh you mean that cute little boy of yours? I have the pleasure of his company even as we speak. Come say hello to your father, Timothy,” Brana said.

  “Daddy?” came Timothy’s voice on the line.

  “Are you ok Timothy? Are they hurting you?” Mike asked.

  “I’m OK, Daddy,” Timothy said.

  Then Brana’s voice came back on the line. “Have no fear Mister Wilkes, I have no intention of hurting this fine boy, at least not at present,” he said.

  “Then what is it you want, Brana?” Mike said getting angrier.

  “Patience, my friend, patience. I want so little from you it almost pains me to ask,” he said. Mostly I have grown tired of seeing you and your Alliance people corrupting our world, denying us our place in the grand scheme of things. I hope to eventually rid our planet of your presence,” he said. “But not before I get some things to aid me in my efforts here.”

  “Aid you in your efforts?” Mike asked. “You mean give you what we have so you can murder and torture other people. I remember your benevolent treatment. If it hadn’t been for others I would have been dead.”

  “Ah yes, I recall how valiantly you tried to protect your present wife - and how easily we could subdue you. But I warn you, do not try my patience again or I may be forced to use some of my methods on someone much younger that you were.”

  Mike got the point most clearly. Brana was in charge at this point. The only thing Mike could do is ask what he wanted. “What is it you desire Brana?”

  “General Brana now. A rank I have most definitely earned.”

  “I see, General Brana, what do you want?” Mike asked calmly.

  “What I desire is most simple. I want some of the technology you have, in particular, your hand weapons, sensing devices, radio devices and other things you may deem helpful for my campaigns. You see, I do not know all of the technologies you possess, but I do know they are superior to my own. I leave the variety of materials and devices to you. If you bring them, along with the diagrams to produce them, and I am satisfied, then you may leave freely. After that, as I gain power, you will be forced to leave. You see, I have heard about your noninterference policy and if we throw you out, you have no choice but to go.”

  “So you want weapons, communications devices, sensors and other useful items as I might choose. Do you want some of our vehicles and spacecraft too?” Mike asked.

  “Although I do admire that automobile you drive, I am afraid it would not make i
t to where I am, and as for spacecraft, well, let’s just say I have no need for them,” Brana said. “I am glad you understand my conditions.”

  “I don’t have much choice, do I?”

  “None at all,” Brana hissed. “I have waited nearly six long years to pay you back for what you and your people did to me. Be glad I am a more forgiving man in my old age.” Brana paused a moment then began again. “You will gather the materials and make preparations to come to a place I tell you. I will call you back and give you your instructions when I am ready. Do you understand, Mister Wilkes?” he asked.

  “Perfectly, General.”

  “Very good. Oh, and don’t try to bring in one of your great starships. You see, I will know when one arrives and will deal harshly with your family if one shows up,” he said sternly, then becoming more affable. “You will hear from me again in a few days. Good bye, Mister Wilkes,” Brana said, and the line went dead.

  Mike looked down at his hands balled up into fists. He was shaking in anger but at the same time very afraid for his little boy. He was about to shut everything off when he noticed the display. There was a graphic of the planet’s surface on it with a red line tracing from Mike’s home across Nacerium, down across the continent into the southern hemisphere of the planet. The line stopped in the hilly plains of one of the larger countries below the equator. The end point was blinking, indicating the terminal point. Anxiously, Mike punched in the appropriate commands and the computer read out the latitude and longitude of the place Brana was calling from. He fed the information on an isolenear chip and punched the communicator.

  “Wilkes to Lexington, may I speak to the captain?”

  “Good evening, Mister Wilkes,” the captain replied, “what has you up this late?”

  “Captain, I request to be streamed up. I have something to get us started.”

  Mike Wilkes, Captain Dickson, Commander Thompson, Lieutenant Commander Hadaie, and Jim Cook were seated in the conference room beside the bridge. The hastily called meeting, although cutting into everyone’s bedtime, was welcomed.

  “Are you sure this was the same Brana that tortured you five years ago?” Cook asked. He was feeling a little left out now since his office had nowhere near the capabilities of a starship. Plus they knew very little about what was in the southern hemisphere.

  “Positive. He even took pleasure in taunting me about the event. Plus, I would know that voice anywhere. Even with Shala’s medicine, I still feel the aches from his beating,” Mike said rubbing one of his shoulders.

  “That answers a lot of questions,” Thompson said. “That would explain the efficiency of the raid, their ability to get the boy away as quickly as they did and the purpose of the abduction.”

  “Indeed, Number One. If he is the Brana that was Levid’s instrument for terror, then he would have access to all of Levid’s equipment and supplies on the planet. One would expect that there would be a number of assets stationed here for an emergency, including some of Levid’s shuttles,” Dickson said.

  “That would explain the recording of the conversation Mr. Wilkes provided. In it, General Brana made the statement that he had no need for any of spacecraft,” Hadaie added. “I believe General Brana already has everything he needs for a three dimensional campaign.”

  “And the addition of Alliance technology would simply guarantee his success. There is no weapon on the planet that stand up to a particle beam assault. Even hand emitters can disable one of their tanks,” Mike said nodding.

  The Captain sat back in his chair. “It appears we have a man that has thought things through very well. He knows about our limitations, or at least he suspects. He knows we can’t go charging in without losing the child. And he figures we can’t locate him in enough time to do anything,” he said with a tired sigh. “We also know he has some sort of force that is large enough to begin challenging the Kingdom and the Republic. So even if we find him it will be difficult to get the boy,” he said. “But then he has underestimated our technology in other areas. We know where he is, or we believe we know. If we can locate the boy with our sensors, we could stream him directly to the Lexington.”

  “I believe that would probably be a problem,” Mike said. “If you remember, he masked Rokka’s island with a dampening field. If my guess is right, he will have put up another system to mask his activities. One other thing. He also said he would be able to tell if one of our ships came in. I don’t know how, but he seems to think he will be able to detect it.”

  “Since he hadn’t detected us before he called, I would assume his capability is not all that great. Either it is purely visual, or it may be very limited. Either way we may be able to override it,” Thompson said.

  Dickson nodded. “We will work on that problem. Just using passive sensors would answer most questions.”

  Mike nodded and continued, “Also, if you recall in his conversation, he didn’t ask us to supply the arms, he specifically mentioned he wanted the schematics and diagrams so he could build the equipment. That leads me to believe he has a manufacturing facility at his disposal. If Levid had one on the planet, he might just have the capability to build dampening systems, detection devices and anything else he might get his hands on. It might even include satellites.”

  “I concur,” Thompson said, then turning to Hadaie, “Did you find anything with the sensors at the location Mike pointed out?”

  “Negative. Although it is dark on this longitude, we picked up no emissions of any sort,” Hadaie said. “Normally I would recommend we position the Lexington over the position and wait until morning. That will give us a visual sighting of the area. However with this information we should take a stealthier course of action.”

  “I agree,” Mike said. “From his warning, he has taken into consideration that we might send a ship here. Even with a telescope, we would be visible and he might do something drastic. Instead, I recommend we do a detailed scan over the area and see if he has something overhead. Then we can send a passive probe to take up a stationary orbit over the area and send back a visual image.”

  Captain Dickson grinned. “I do believe you would have made a fine tactical officer Mister Wilkes,” the Captain said. “Mister Hadaie, have our sensors detected anything over that section of the planet?”

  Hadaie already had his hand over the computer pad. After only a second of delay he said, “No sir. I am not getting any readings of any energy being radiated over the planet; however there is a small object in orbit approximately 100 miles above the surface. Using passive readings only, I have not been able to identify it.”

  Dickson sat back a moment. “Do you remember how the Therans used television to show Levid’s ship when we were here before?” Dickson mused. “That would coincide with Levid’s technology. It’s passive and a signal beamed directly from the satellite to the receiving station would be almost impossible to intercept.”

  “I concur sir,” Hadaie said. “The device could also be programmed to alert the ground only when a change in the image occurred. In that way, we would have no advance warning of detection.”

  Dickson sat back and smiled. “Number One, have a probe readied for launch so that it can be in position before dawn. And as an extra precaution, make sure the navigation lights are disconnected and the casing painted a matte black so that it can’t be seen in any case. When it is launched, have it move away from the planet at first and then move to a position above the satellite coming straight in from space. We can monitor the satellite transmissions to the ground. If it does start picking up anything, we can move it away faster than it can respond.”

  “Right away sir,” Thompson replied as the comm panel activated.

  “Bridge to captain Dickson.”

  “Dickson here.”

  “Sir we have an indication of someone trying to enter security section two one seven. It’s not an alarm, but the sensors are fluctuating in a strange manor.”

  “That’s a small arms locker for away teams,” Thompson said g
etting up from his seat.

  “Send a security detail to that area and seal off the corridors. Prepare the dampening system to drain those weapons if anyone tries to leave the compartment. We’re on our way,” the Captain said.

  Everyone left the room quickly except Mike and Hadaie. Hadaie moved over and sat beside Mike, reaching over and placing his hand on Mike’s shoulder. Mike could tell by the upturn in Hadaie’s eyes, he was smiling. They had become friends while Mike was still a student aboard this very ship. It had been Hadaie that saved Jo’s life and their friendship had grown steadily since that time.

  Hadaie gave his friend a shake. “Sorry I couldn’t get down earlier, but I’ve been trying to find Timothy for you,” Hadaie said.

  Mike smiled and placed his hand over Hadaie’s. “It’s okay, Ulon. With the families at the house, there wouldn’t be much time to talk anyway. I appreciate your help.”

  “How’s the new baby doing?”

  “Fine. She sleeps through almost everything, but right now, that’s better for us. Neither of us is getting much sleep. Between the feedings and worrying about Timothy, I’m lucky to get a couple of hours a night,” Mike said.

  Hadaie reached up and placed his fingers on Mike’s head. Mike drew back with a questioning look.

  “Relax. Trust me, Mike,” Hadaie assured his friend.

  Mike sat back and Hadaie replaced his fingers against the side of Mike’s head. Mike suddenly felt as if the whole world had lifted from his shoulders. The furrows in his brow disappeared and he seemed to relax all over. In a moment he looked at his friend.

  “What did you do?” Mike asked.

  Hadaie shrugged. “Mike, you know how I can use my fingers. I just wanted to make sure you got the rest you need. Ask Jo. She can relate to what I can do,” he said. “Besides, I need you around to give me some lessons on childrearing,” he said.

  Mike’s eyes opened wide. “You and Olena?”