The Secret of Excalibur (24 page)

I hold out the brandy bottle, and he takes a big slug straight from the bottle. He begins choking, gagging, strangling, or coughing. From the expression on his face, it's difficult to guess which one. All I hear is HUMM.

Yep, he's gagging, tears in his eyes.
Great, one person crying, the other one about to puke.

TAP –Sir, uh, we heard the explosion last night around eleven-fifteen, uh, uh, and when I ran outdoors to see, uh, I saw what looked like a nuclear fireball. Otherwise, we would've rushed there last night. We thought it was a nuclear event.-

At least reading someone's mind without the dubious benefit of hearing sounds, leaves me reading many uh's, instead of hearing the awful gagging I see him doing. Guess I'm not missing much.

TAP – Sir, uh, the shock wave hit us a few minutes later, uh, and it broke windows, uh, and did quite a bit of other, uh, damage as well, uh, so I was, uh, sure it was nuclear. I alerted the, uh, nuclear, uh, response team, uh, and they, uh, are on the way, uh, from Scotland now. They were there for training.-

I need to get through to Relman. Maybe if he threw up he'll feel better.
I push.
Oh, shit.
He leans over, retching uncontrollably.
What a mess. Damn, Relman, what did you eat? A whole cow? Yucko.

I think to him, *Relman, relax and pay attention. Tell me exactly what you saw, everything. Are you alright?*

He's still bent over, puke all over the floor and his shoes. TAP –Uh, sir, give me, uh, another, uh, minute please, uh, uh, uh.-

Yuck. Looks like several cows in there.

I check on Ruth. She isn't crying any longer, more like hiccups.

I focus. *Relman, you alright? C'mon, Relman, you have to tell me what you saw last night.*

Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he looks up. TAP –Sir, I saw a huge flash that seemed to keep going up, growing bigger as it ascended into space, but at angles. I figured it was an atmospheric aberration, but it was definitely there. Then, a few minutes later, the shock wave hit us, like a nuclear explosion. All three flashes originated from different areas, sir. I thought you were all dead for sure then.-

*That's okay, Relman, you should've seen it up close.*

TAP –That's fine, sir. I'm glad I was at the Lodge, twenty-three miles away.-

I focus on Ruth. *God, honey. No wonder we're deaf. The blast was twenty-three miles from here, Relman says the shock wave broke windows at the Lodge.*

Relman is tapping his temple, but I hold my hand up and focus on Ruth. –I'm sorry for breaking down like that.- She wipes her eyes, then blows her nose. Straightening in her chair, she continues with a determined look, -We have to get back there, Arthur. We have to keep everybody away until we can investigate the cavern.-

With a relieved smile, I jokingly tell her, *Always the scientist, singed hair, dirty face, and deaf.*

Lifting her head higher, she smirks. TAP –Fuck you, sir.-

I glance at Relman.

TAP –If we leave in the chopper now, sir, we'll be there in twelve to fifteen minutes, about the same time the medical and rescue personnel will arrive.-

*Relman, listen to me. I'll have to take charge for Dobie until he's able to do it himself. You're second-in-command now, so snap-to and station at least fifty armed men on the beach. If the ships on the seaside were destroyed, you'll need to replace them. No one is getting near that cavern until we've had a chance to check it out. And by we, I mean Dr. Burns and me. Maybe Dr. Tober, if he's still around. You stay here in the Command Post and get everything organized, and Relman, keep this all hush-hush. Is that clear?*

TAP –Sir, the Commander never mentioned you were to take charge.- He glances uncertainly from me to Ruth.

*The PM gave Commander Dobie
carte blanche
last night. Unfortunately, he's unconscious. The Doctor and I have already been exposed to whatever we encountered, and we don't want anyone else exposed. Due to the nature of what we saw, I can't go into detail about what happened. Meanwhile, post guards and keep this incident hushed up. No one but medical personnel, or people reclaiming bodies, is to get within a mile. Put a lid on this, and keep it there securely, or the PM and Dobie will take turns on the handle while you roast over a spit.* I suddenly remember the words Dobie used over the phone. Using them was worth a try. *Relman, this order is priority A1A. Got that? A1A for MI6. Now, get busy.*

He leaves looking very nervous, much more than a guy should who threw up twice.

Ruth looks at me. TAP –I don't know how, but I was able to hear everything you two said. Someone has to contact the PM. If this incident leaks to the House, then the politicians will get their hands on it, and it'll be all over the press. We have to do something, fast.-

*Ruth*, I think, *how do you plan to do that? We can't call her, we can't hear, and Dobie's unconscious.*

TAP –I have an idea. Let's go back there as fast as we can and wake up Dobie. He'll be able to contact the PM, in private, and make sure everything's kept out of the House, and the press. If we can't wake him, you'll have to call the PM, honey.- She bats her eyes at me with her pleading look.

*Hold it, kid. Teleporting here was a gamble. You know I don't have any control when I teleport any longer.*

TAP –Arthur, don't you realize the problems you were having before, took off last night? Your lack of control should be gone now.-

I ponder that idea for a few minutes.

TAP –You're back to normal now, but for your ears. When you think about it, you'll realize we aren't deaf either. If we were, we'd be hearing nothing but silence, not all this humming. Our eardrums are in shock, so our hearing will return.-

She's smart, and she's right. *Damn, Doc, and I was getting used to the peace and quiet from your talking.*

WHAP. I think I like patting better.

Gracefully rising, she downs her brandy, then stamps off to the women's bathroom, at the doorway turning back. TAP –When I come out, we're going back, just you and me. Don't argue, just be ready.- She turns and disappears. What a broad.

I finish my brandy and take the bottle to the bar, where I lean over and see Alyce lying on the floor, spread-eagled. She has one leg up on the bottle rack, her private parts open and exposed, with no towel or white panties now.
Yeah, let her figure this one out.

I pour another brandy and gently focus on Ruth. She's standing naked, in front of the mirror, trying to wash up, running her fingers though her singed hair. She dresses and strides out to me, where she pours herself another drink, a big one.

Leaning over the bar, she peers down at Alyce. With a big devilish grin, she steps behind the counter to the register and removes a bill, but I can't tell the monetary amount. She lays the bill on poor Alyce's bare pubic hair, then pours a bottle of Irish Cream all over her exposed private parts. I stare in astonishment at Ruth, trying to figure her out.
She accused me of changing over the past several days. Does she realize how much she's changed?

TAP –Well, you could screw her, Arthur.- She gives me a saucy smile.

I shake emphatically NO.

TAP –Then using Irish Crème is the next best thing. How much you want to bet she keeps the Tenner?- She has suppressed laugh lines around her mouth.

Staring openmouthed at her, I read from her mind a blue/red, then she cracks up soundlessly. I can't help laughing with her.
So, we're both sexual perverts.

Through her blue/red haze, I say, *I'd like to see her face when she wakes up.* More soundless laughter.

Ruth stumbles back to me, kisses me, then hugs me. She looks up at me, squeezes her eyes shut, tightly holding my arm. That's a definite signal, so I focus on the beach by the fire-pit, cross my fingers, and BLIP!

We appear next to the overturned chairs. I hurriedly glance around. Nothing has changed, smoke is still rising slowly from our badly, scorched boat. Releasing Ruth, she slightly staggers before she catches herself.

*You Alky,* I tease her.

She gives a little grin, then heads off on unsteady legs towards Dobie.

While Ruth checks on Dobie, I stride rapidly to the two severely burned sailors. Both are alive, and still unconscious.
Good.
I focus on Relman and instantly make contact. *Relman, Dr. Burns and I are back at the site. Do you understand me?*

Very clearly, I receive an affirmative, but it's overshadowed with other thoughts of him being concerned about losing his sanity.

*No, Relman, you're not going crazy. Relax. I have two men here, severely burned. I know you have a medic with you. They can't wait for treatment, so I'm going to teleport them to our room so they can get treated ASAP. I'll place one on each bed. Fetch the medic, and go there, now.*

Kneeling by one of the sailors, I concentrate on the bed Ruth slept on, then focus on the man, and BLIP! he's gone. The other man I teleport to the waterbed. Relman verifies they arrived and are still breathing. He's shocked by how severely they're burned, almost as much as their arrival method.

I stride back to Ruth and Dobie. She looks up. TAP –He's out cold, won't respond. I'm sure he's in shock. Can you get through to him?-

Kneeling by his side, I focus into his mind. Fuzzy. Lights. Explosions. He's reliving the sight of the UFO bursting from the water and disappearing into the sky.

*Cecil, its Arthur. Can you hear me?*

No response.

*Cecil, you have to fight this, we have to go on. You must wake up.*

He weakly rolls his head around, becoming more aware. I pick up the loud HUMM.

*Cecil, Ruth and I are temporarily deaf, so you probably are too. That humming, don't let it bother you. You must focus, bring yourself to the surface.*

His lips move, but I don't perceive any mental images yet, just a blur of jumbled colors.

Ruth touches my arm. TAP –You're taking too long. Can you focus on the medics?-

I try to locate them.
Damn, not that far away
. If I could hear, I'd be listening to rotor blades.

I point, and Ruth goes, TAP –You have to get him awake before they land. If they sedate him, you'll have to go see the PM.-

Dobie's in deep shock. His mind won't reconcile what he saw with his long-held beliefs, so his subconscious decided it was safer to stay in denial and unconscious. I focus directly into his mind, the conscious part. Blurry. The conscious part of his brain is where he'll have to come back to. Unless, like others in severe shock, his mind is on overload and will stay that way, all or in part, forever. We can't let him do that.

Dipping into someone's unconscious mind always reminds me of that old game, dunking for apples. Except instead of water, it feels as though I'm dunking into slimy, thick oil, and not all the apples float or are the same size. I don't want to go in there. I could do more damage than good. The EGO never accepts another presence. Ever.

How much can I push him without causing permanent damage?
I have no idea how his mind works, and he's very susceptible to my mental probes. I could push him deeper into himself where we'll never be able to get him back.

*Cecil, it's you and me now. We need you, man. Your country needs you. Even the PM needs you. Get off your lazy ass and get moving.* I mentally push him, hard.

In a hot rush, I feel, -Who does this fucking freak think he is?-

*Cecil, you're lazy. You don't care about your country, or about MI6. You're lying here on your ass while Nichols is dead, and I'm in charge of MI6 because you won't wake up.*

Brain activity leaps out of him. -NO BLOODY WAY. I AM IN CHARGE HERE. GET AWAY FROM ME.- His limbs flail around, trying to fight us. We firmly hold him down. His eyes pop open, the size of saucers.

*Relax. We're here. You're probably deaf as we are, but don't worry, it'll pass. Can you sit up?*

We release him, and he slowly sits up. He looks around in confusion, then up, and at me.

I acknowledge, *Yes, we saw it too. Don't dwell on it now, just get yourself together. The medics will be here in a minute. Get a grip on yourself.*

Blood's trickling from his ears, so Ruth touches my arm. TAP –He has a severe concussion. Did you aggravate it?-

How the hell would I know?
To Ruth, I say, *No idea, kid. Maybe.* To Dobie, I say, *You have a severe concussion, old man, so take it easy.* He slightly nods with a grimace of pain.

I assist walking him to a chair Ruth is setting back up, and he plops down in a lump. He looks as bad as, or worse, than we do. His immaculate, expensive suit is covered with muddy sand, water stains and scorch marks, toupee hanging half off his head.

I kneel and tell him, *You have to hold on. You need to meet the PM and tell her what happened here, what we saw. Then, you need to get this whole area cordoned off. If you don't, the press will learn what happened here, and your name will be linked with a story about a UFO. Do you want that?*

He violently shakes, NONONONO, then grimaces in pain, putting his head in his hands. Feeling his toupee out of place, he readjusts it on top of his head, glaring at me in defiance.

I stare him squarely in the eyes. *Actually, I'm surprised the press isn't already here. You've been napping for hours. Relman must be doing a good job. Cecil, Ruth and I will investigate the cavern, and whatever we find we only let you know, no one else. You'll get to decide what to do with whatever we find. Okay?*

Slight up-and-down motion.

*But, if you don't get this area sealed off, the whole fucking world will be in here, and we'll lose everything.*

He gives a more energetic nod this time. Yes.

It's strange to watch six helicopters land, sand blowing all over, trees whipping from the rotor wash, men jumping out and yelling to each other, and not hear one damn sound. But here they are, settling on the sand, and the medics running to the bodies in the water. I could've told them. I lower my head, mourning for all the senseless deaths.

I suddenly remember Colonel Ferguson, but I'm not picking up any mental images from Ferguson. Trying to focus on him, I'm distracted by an officer jumping out of one of the helicopters with two aides, the officer is a Brigadier General. He glances around, then stomps off towards where Dobie and Ruth are sitting. I'm sure he meant to stride purposefully, but in that soft sand, it looks like stomping. He reminds me of an English bulldog, squat body, bowlegged, and hanging jowls.

Resuming my mental search for Ferguson, I move off fifteen feet, concentrating intensely. Finally, I see him and his troops among the trees, bodies lying around. Not one spark of life in any of them.
Sorry, Colonel,
I think with a heavy heart.
Too many good lives lost today
.

I begin striding back to where the General's standing, waving his arms all over, red-faced, extended neck veins and yelling at Dobie. Of course, we can't hear him.

Holding her hand up, Ruth does a small curtsy to him, and says, probably pretty loud, as a newly deaf person would, “He can't hear you. We are temporarily deaf. Please write what you want to say to the Commander.”

The General looks down his priggish nose at her, impatiently tapping his fingers against his thigh. Even though she tried to make herself more presentable by washing in the bathroom, Ruth still looks a real mess. Scorched and stained clothes and singed auburn hair jutting in all directions. Apparently not measuring up to his standards, the asshole shoves her backwards, and she falls in a tangle of aluminum framing and webbing from her chair.

“Well, you bastard,” I think, but I must've yelled it, because everybody turns to look at me as I rush towards the General.

Each of his aides draw their revolvers, aiming them at me, but I keep coming, my face etched with hate and anger. He orders something, because his lips move, and each gun fires with muzzle flashes. I can't hear the reports, but I feel the impact of the bullets, Plip! Plip!, each bullet stopping me in my tracks for a second. The two flattened bullets fall off into the sand. Now, I'm really mad.
How dare they shoot at me with no provocation?

Reaching them, I hit the two aides with a hard, sweeping blow, backed by an equally hard telekinetic push. They fly off their feet, landing ten feet away with sand geysering into the air. As I grabble with the General, he's struggling to remove his pistol from the holster. Snatching him up by the front of his uniform, I toss him back by our tent. He lands against the side of the tent, continuing through the wall, disappearing inside. I couldn't hear that either, but it felt like GOOD. I start stalking towards where the General disappeared, when I feel a vise-like grip on my arm. Even before I look back, I know who it is, I recognize that grip.

TAP –No, Arthur! Leave him alone. Let Dobie handle this, or we'll have the damn military all over us, then we'll never learn what really happened here.-

I scowl at her, shaking with pent-up rage, hands clenched into fists by my sides.

She stares back at me, just as unrelenting, face drawn in fear. TAP –Really. I'm alright, leave him alone, please. Let Dobie handle him. Just calm down.-

I look at Dobie, gray-faced, sitting like a lump. Rolling my shoulders, unclenching my fists, I let out a loud sigh. I sternly tell him, *Okay. Handle it, Cecil*

I glance over at the aides. They're still sitting where they landed, not the least bit interested in getting up. They have vacant eyes and one is drooling, slobber dripping from his chin onto his uniform. He still has his pistol in hand and as he's drooling, he's drawing small circles in the sand with the barrel.

Ruth shakes me violently. TAP –He's getting ready to go over. Knock him out. Hurry.-

Mentally focusing on him, he goes down like a limp towel. His Weatherby .45 discharges right then, sand and shrapnel flying everywhere. The other aide is suddenly covered with blood, rolling in the sand, holding his chest and arms. He's probably screaming, but we can't hear him.

Two medics scurry to the wounded aide and calm him enough to work on him. One medic administers a shot; the other medic begins putting compresses on his wounds. The medic who administered the injection, a tall, thin, silver-haired man, wearing the rank of Major, strides to me. He stops five feet away, giving a smart salute. He begins using sign language I can't make heads-or-tails of.

Holding up my hand, I gently focus on his mind. *If you think what you want to say, I'll hear it. Just tap your temple when you want to speak, Major.*

I can feel Relman had briefed them about me, so he wasn't overly nervous with the telepathy. TAP –I apologize for General Rangovick, but he is the military liaison, and as such, in charge of this operation. I'm Major Paber, in charge of the medical detachment. Can you tell me what the hell happened here? Uh, and who are you, uh, and your authority, sir?-

I give him a shark grin. *Certainly, Major. I'm Mr. Merlin, and that's Commander Dobie, of MI6. I work for the Commander. No, I can't tell you what happened. That asshole General is NOT in charge, Commander Dobie is, and in his absence, I am. As of right now, you're in charge of your people, Major, not that asshole.*

Paber's head wags back and forth for a negative, uncertainty reflected in his hazel eyes.

I continue. *Major, the Commander has a severe concussion, but he can't be put into a drug induced sleep. He has to see the Prime Minister, posthaste. Will you arrange the transportation for him? Also, I'm sorry to say, you'll find a hundred more bodies, over there in those trees. Will you see to their reclamation?*

Paber stares at me, wide-eyed, ashen faced. TAP –Sir, what in hell is going on here?-

I firmly shake NO.

Looking around at the carnage, he turns back to me and reluctantly taps his temple. –Am I dismissed to get everything arranged?-

I nod YES.

The Major drops back, salutes sharply, then turns and yells to his men. That's strange, to see the man, mouth wide open, cords on his neck standing out, as he yells over the noise from the choppers. You never notice any of this when you can hear. Believe me, it's surreal to watch. His men heard him though, as they hurry off following orders.

Four of the medics sprint off into the trees, big bags slung over their shoulders. Too late for Ferguson, probably the only Colonel I'll ever like.

The asshole General is untangling himself from what's left of our tent. I glare at him and focus, not gently either. *If you ever touch this lady again, I'll scatter your guts all over this fucking beach. Do you hear me, you bastard?*

I don't know whether he jumped, or was thrown back into the tent, but he disappears in a tangle of brown nylon and shiny aluminum poles. I focus on him, he's out cold, must've been too hard.
Tough shit.

Ruth pulls on my arm, pointing. The Major's listening to his radio. I focus to listen in.

“… one here is dead, sir. It looks as if they died from massive coronaries, instantly, without warning, or pain. Probably never knew what happened. Sorry, sir.”

“Captain, collect one tag, then return.” Major Paber looks at me tight-lipped, eyes glimmering with unshed tears.

*Yes, Major. I heard most of that exchange. I'm sorry.*

TAP –What the hell happened here, mister?- Even with the mental contact, I can hear his voice breaking with emotion.

*Major, if I told you, you'd have to lock us away for a very long time. What happened here still doesn't make sense to us, and we were here. It's better to tell you that everything we saw is classified for now. Believe me, you don't want to know anyway.*

His radio must've gone off, because he has that look human beings use for intense concentration. I eavesdrop on him again.

“… sign of the other three. But these three ships are badly burned, and floundering on the rocks. All hands aboard are dead, sir and the whole coastline is littered with bodies.” There's a pause with the sound of hitched breathing and the clearing of a throat. “What the hell is going on, sir? My God, more than three hundred dead. Wait, sir … okay, we located the other three ships. They're at the bottom, in the shallower water near the cliff face. Three ships sunk, three ships burned, and bodies everywhere.”