The Gift (2 page)

“Please tell me I’m wrong, Ma’am," the young man fairly pleaded, but he was not wrong.

What Andrews saw in the data reminded her of a training film she’d seen on intercontinental ballistic missiles, specifically multiple independently targetable re-entry vehicles (MIRVs). The sphere had reformed. What had been a very large sphere had now become 18 smaller spheres, each as black as the purest obsidian. All but one of them continued toward Earth.

C
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T
WO

Sam opened the door to the community center for Sara. She walked in with him behind her. They came to the community center every Saturday, first thing in the morning. It had been Sara’s idea. Sam had fought it, but Sara could be tough. In the end, she’d won and he’d agreed to give it a try. Now, it was the highlight of his week. His sister-in-law was, as he would occasionally chide her, smarter than she looked. This would have been harsher than it sounded had Sara not been a beautiful woman. Every time Sam looked at her, he thought of Elizabeth. They both had the same light brown skin, wavy black hair and dark brown eyes. It was the eyes that really got to him sometimes. He stopped and closed his own momentarily before continuing into the community center.

Sam had once been a handsome man, though he would have laughed if you’d told him so. Nearly six feet tall with dirty blonde hair, deep blue eyes and built like a floor gymnast, he’d never had trouble finding a date. He hadn’t had any trouble getting the love of his life to say yes either. He wondered what she’d make of him now.

“Mommy, look!” He heard a little girl being held in the arms of her mother say to her as they walked by. He couldn’t be sure the little girl was pointing at him, but it wouldn’t be uncommon. He pretended he hadn’t heard so the mother wouldn’t be embarrassed. It worked.

It didn’t take long for Sam to learn how people responded to his new face. Adults, for the most part, did a pretty good job acting somewhat normal. They probably didn’t know that they spent far less time looking into his eyes than people had before he was injured. He was sure they meant well. Kids…now kids were a different thing entirely. Sam never knew what one of them might say. If you asked him, he’d tell you he preferred the kids. No one ever asked him.

“Thank you again for making me come here, Sara. You’re a good sister. Elizabeth would be proud.”

“You do good work here, Sam. You make a difference. Elizabeth would be proud of that.”

Sara thought about what she’d just said, regretted it and said, “I’m going to go see how many kids showed up this week. Why don’t you go say hi to Esther?”

“Sounds good. See you in a bit," Sara left for the children’s reading area. Sam looked around for Esther. It didn’t take him long to spot her.

Esther had raised nine children, mostly on her own, having lost her husband to cancer in her
 
mid-thirties. That was more than thirty years ago. She’d been alone since the last child left home a decade ago. The years had not been kind to her. Esther took a lot of different medication. Sometimes she was herself. Sometimes not. Sam stayed with her for a time either way, but he knew from experience she would only remember his visits when she was herself, and sometimes not even then.

“Good Morning, Esther.”

“Good Morning, Sam. Nice to see you." her eyes were bright and focused. It appeared she was having a good day.

“Nice to see you, Esther. How’s my favorite grandmother?”

Esther smiled at him, “So far, so good. Of course, it’s early,” she teased. “How about you? How’s that leg feeling?”

“It gets me around, thank you for asking. More importantly, how are the grandkids doing?”

Esther’s smile grew. “I got a few new pictures of Isabella yesterday. Want to see?”

“Yes Ma’am." Sam took a seat next to Esther and chatted with her while she showed him her newest pictures of Isabella and some not-so-new pictures of her other grandchildren. As usual, they covered a variety of topics while viewing the pictures. Esther had been a nurse. She had some remarkable stories and Sam was a good listener.

“They are all as beautiful as ever," Sam told her as they reached the last picture.

“They are delightful, aren’t they?” Esther replied in a way that only a grandparent can.

“They are. Speaking of delightful, wouldn’t it be so if you were to spend some quality time with Jim?”

“I never should have told you that. Now you won’t leave me alone about it!” Esther pretended to admonish Sam, but she couldn’t quite keep her face stern. She gave up and said, “Yes, it would be nice. If I wasn’t so old and fat and high as a kite half the time.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself, Esther. We all have issues. It’s the human condition. You’re a wonderful lady. You should talk with him. Do you want me to talk with him for you?” Sam asked her. He knew the answer.

“You will do no such thing!” Esther responded.

His question and her response were a ritual part of their conversations. Sam didn’t quit trying because he thought he was making progress. Jim and Esther were both good people and both of them were lonely. They both knew he’d ask again next week.

“Okay, Esther. You’re the boss. I won’t say a word to him, but you should." Sam stood while saying this and started adjusting the blankets covering most of Esther. This was also part of their ritual. It usually meant the conversation was over.

“I know. Thank you for pushing me, Sam, and for spending time with me. You’re my hero.”

Sam glanced at Sara. She was across the room, reading to a small group of young children. He looked back at Esther, “I’m nobody’s hero, Esther." He finished straightening her covers, smiled at her and asked if she needed anything else. She didn’t.

Sam looked around for Jim, found him sitting in one of the leather club chairs arranged along the western wall of the room. He was reading a book by the morning light. Sam moved to join him, hoping he’d be in the mood to talk.

“Good Morning, Jim.”

“Good Morning, Sam. I was just about to start a read.”

“Can I convince you to spend a little time sharing some wisdom with a wee lad such as myself instead?”

“Can’t say as I have much wisdom to share, but seeing as I have so little time left needing it, why not?” Jim replied with a smile.

Jim was one of Sam’s favorite people. Although time and a rough life had worn his body down, his voice was a strong as a young man’s and the mind directing it would be envied by most anyone.

Sam hadn’t known Jim long. He’d met him shortly after he moved to Colorado Springs a couple of years ago, but they’d hit it off instantly. For two men decades apart in age who’d grown up in different parts of the country and pursued very different careers, they had a lot in common. They were both veterans, though Sam would say Jim was a Veteran, with a capital “V” because of the time he’d spent as a marine in the hell that was the Korean War, and as a medic at that. That was where their first conversation started. Where it ended was why Sam always made it a point to talk to Jim if he could.

“Look at you, whining about dying again. Must we always start with you complaining about your mortality?”

“You’re right. I can be such a selfish bastard sometimes. Where are my manners? Have a seat.”

“That’s more like it." Sam sat in the chair next to Jim, a small round wooden table between them. The low morning sun felt good on Sam’s back. They both sat there for a minute before Sam asked, “How’ve you been, Jim?”

“Truth be told, Son, I’m feeling about as useless as tits on a boar hog.”

Sam paused for a moment. Sometimes Jim wanted to tell stories. Sometimes he wanted to hear stories. Sometimes he just wanted to talk politics. On a very few occasions, he wanted something more out of the conversation. Sam cherished those rare opportunities to learn from a man he’d come to deeply respect.

“I can’t speak for boar hogs, but you’re not useless to me, Jim.”

In the comfortable silence that followed, Sam’s cell phone buzzed.

“Excuse me a moment, Jim," Sam said as he glanced at the phone and realized it was his boss, Jack. “I have to take this." He got up from the chair and started toward the door as he answered his phone.

“Sam, it’s Jack. I need you to come to the office.”

“Jack, it’s my day off.”

“I know that, Sam. Look, this is important. I need you here ASAP. I don’t have time to explain. Just get here five minutes ago.” With that, Jack ended the call.

Pompous ass, Sam thought as he walked back inside to apologize to Jim and get Sara.

“I’m sorry, Jim. I have to go. Remember what I said and remember what you did for me. There’s not an ounce of useless in you.”

Sam shook Jim’s hand. “I’ll be back later today if I can.”

“It’s all right, Lad, run along and play now." Jim smiled an impish smile. Sam walked away to find Sara, a bit less annoyed than seconds before.

“Sara, I have to go," Sam told her once he found her.

“Right now? We were going to stay for another couple of hours.”

“I know. I’m sorry. It’s work and Jack said ASAP. You know how he is. I don’t want any trouble.”

C
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T
HREE

Sam parked his SUV, a late model black Jeep Grand Cherokee, in the mostly empty parking lot outside of his office, which was really a three-story SCIF, or Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility located in the heart of Peterson Air Force Base. SCIFs are as common within the Air Force Space Command as overpriced restaurants are in New York. Remarkably little of what goes on within them requires the expense associated with their construction and maintenance. Sam’s work did.

Leaving the parking lot and entering the foyer, it occurred to him that as relatively empty as the parking lot was, it still held more vehicles than it usually did on a Saturday. It had been a while since Jack had conducted a drill. That’s probably what was going on, he thought as he approached the guard in the foyer, “Morning, Fred.”

“Morning, Mr. Steele.”

“So what’s going on?” Sam asked as he presented his ID in exchange for his outer SCIF credentials.

“Can’t say.”

“Can’t or won’t?” Sam asked with a smile. He liked Fred. Like most of the guards, he was retired military. Although they’d never served together—Sam was Army, Fred was Air Force—their careers spanned the same time frame. They usually chatted for a few moments before Sam started his shift. It’s possible to learn a lot about someone in short conversations over time if you’re paying attention. Sam paid attention.

“In this case, both. I don’t know much and what little I know I’ve been ordered to keep to myself," he paused, “Trust me, even if I spilled my guts, you wouldn’t know much more than when you opened that door." Fred gestured vaguely toward the building’s single entrance.

“Fair enough. Guess I’ll get in there and see what’s going on.”

“Good luck with that," Fred said as Sam walked toward the secure door behind which he would likely find an irritated Major Jack Thompson.

“Thanks. I’m betting I’ll need it." Sam placed his hand on the biometric reader, waited for the green light and then entered the eight-digit code before the 10-second timer expired. The door opened and Sam stepped into another, smaller foyer. This one had two guards stationed behind armored glass. Both were armed and both appeared a bit tense to Sam’s trained eye. He pushed his outer SCIF ID through, waited for it to be processed and then proceeded to the first door of the small sally port. The door opened. He entered, waited for the door behind him to close, accepted his interior badge and started to turn toward the second door to go to his office.

“I have special instructions for you, Sir," the senior guard informed him. “You are to proceed immediately and directly to Vice Commander Web’s office. You are not to deviate from the most direct route to that destination or talk with anyone along the way. If Colonel Web is not in his office, you are to wait until he arrives. We will inform him that you are here. Do you understand these instructions?”

“Yes," Sam replied, wondering if he’d just fallen down the rabbit hole.

“Do you have any questions about these instructions?”

“No." They wouldn’t have any answers to his questions.

“Please proceed, Sir.” The inner door of the sally port opened.

“Thanks,” Sam said as he entered the heart of the SCIF. Following instructions, he headed directly to Web’s office. He didn’t have to worry about speaking with anyone along the way. There was no one to speak with. The corridors were empty. Stranger still.

The door to Web’s office was open. Web was behind his desk, apparently waiting for Sam.

“Sam. Come in and close the door.”

Sam entered, closed the door and moved to one of the chairs in front of Web’s desk. He took a seat without waiting for an offer to do so and waited. Web’s irritated expression was worth the political capital it cost Sam to be impertinent in Web’s eyes. In Web’s mind, Sam should respect military protocol. In Sam’s mind, and in fact, he was a civilian.

“I’m going to be completely straight with you, Sam. I don’t want you here now, not for this. Having said that, several members of the team, Jack included, believe we need you. As you’ll learn shortly, we have a very large problem and a very small window within which to solve it. If the experts believe you can help with that, I’m inclined to let you in. Still, unless you can assure me that you will be a consummate team player on this, I’ll ignore their request and ask you to leave. Will you be a team player, Sam?”

Sam paused before responding. There was no love lost between him and Web, and they both knew it. Unfortunately for Web, Sam was among the best, perhaps the best, at what he did. Unfortunately for Sam, Web was in charge of the foremost organization supporting Sam’s work. Catch twenty-two.

Sam’s curiosity about what was going on overpowered his desire to tweak Web. This time. “Yes, Eric, I’ll be a team player.” Web’s annoyance at the use of his first name was visible, barely. Even under the unusual circumstances that bothered Web. Sam stored that little bit of intel away for future processing.