Sentinel/The Thing from Another World

Baked, Boiled or Fried

Part B

I sucked in a breath. It was inaudible, I knew it was inaudible, but I had the weirdest feeling that he heard it. "Jim!"  

"Chief." Jim didn't look nearly as surprised as I was. He took a step toward me. "Why'd you leave?" he asked in a very low voice.  

He didn't remember I had told him of the plane I'd had to catch? I opened my mouth, then shut it. Had I told him I had a plane to catch? I couldn't remember. That was one of the reasons I stuck with beer.  

"Can we talk about this later?" I really didn't want to be having this discussion in front of an audience.  

"Fine. But we will talk about it." He turned to Simon. "I have to remind you that this facility is now under military jurisdiction, Captain Banks."  

"And as I told you back there on the ice, that's fine by me, Captain Ellison. I don't mind admitting this thing in the ice is out of my area of expertise. Give me a Commie spy any day."  

Jim smiled, but I could tell his mind was elsewhere. "I'll set up a watch. Lieutenant Taggart will take the first four hours, I'll take the next four. Lieutenant Erickson, Sergeant MacAuliff, and Lieutenant Dykes can split the remaining watches between them."  

"Wait a second. You feel a watch is necessary? Why?" I wanted to know. "I mean the Martian Popsicle in there isn't going anywhere."  

"I can answer that, Sandburg." Professor Laurenz was unhappy in the extreme. "Captain Ellison doesn't trust us not to make off with our visitor while his back is turned. We've been arguing this the entire return flight."  

"While the Cap was trying to keep the plane from doing a swan-dive while he out-raced that storm. Really smart, distracting him like that. Almost saw all of us dead," Taggart snapped.  

Jim scowled at Laurenz. "Your friends are a little overeager." He turned his back pointedly. "It's been a bitch of a day, Banks. Why don't you and your men get some rest?"  

"You're right." Simon started unzipping his parka; he told me afterwards that he'd been on the go for over thirty-six hours straight at that point, and his second wind had long since given up the ghost. I knew myself from experience that all that time spent out in the cold would be enervating as well. "This research station is my responsibility, though, Ellison, these people. Give a shout if you need me."  

He and his men left, stepping aside for Tex as he rushed in, and then pulling the door shut behind them to keep the chill air from escaping.  

"I've got a message for…" Tex skidded to a halt in a puddle of melted snow. "Whoa! What in the Sam Hill is *that*?"  

"A block of ice."  

"I can see that, amigo. I mean, what's in it?"  

"That is a visitor from another planet, Tex. "  

"A man from Mars?" He leaned over and stared at the ice, which was starting to clear in the relative warmth of the storeroom. "Holy hannah!"  

"Succinctly put." Not for the first time I wondered that no one had broken Professor Laurenz's nose. He had been one of the sources I had cited for my dissertation in botany, but the more I knew of him personally, the less I liked him.  

"Andrew, could I speak with you a moment?" Dr. Carrington and the botanist stepped away from the rest of us, and the head scientist began speaking in an earnest undertone.  

I was distracted from their conversation by Tex blowing out a breath and saying, "Well, shut my mouth an' call me late for dinner! They sure don't grow 'em pretty where he comes from! This Thing is uglier'n sin!"  

I squatted down to take a close look. No ears. One hand seemed to be reaching toward me, the fingers long and thin and splayed as if to brace itself for a fall. I gave my head a shake, positive I hadn't counted the correct number of digits, but it was dumb of me to assume that it would be normal for an extraterrestrial to have five fingers on each hand.  

Something drew my gaze upward, and I froze, and my mouth went dry, and I wanted to whimper.  

Its eyes were open and appeared to be boring straight into mine. I recoiled violently. There was such hatred, such malevolence…  I lost my balance and landed on my ass.  

"You okay, Chief?" Jim extended a hand to help me up.  

"Yeah." I hesitated for a second, then accepted his hand. "Yeah, thanks." The feel of his palm against mine had me wishing I could feel it on other parts of my body again.  

His ice-blue eyes stared into mine. He held onto my hand longer than was necessary, and when he finally released it, his fingers stroked across my palm. I closed my fingers over the phantom caress, wanting to hold onto the feeling forever.    

"Uh… " What had I been saying? I glanced back at the block of ice, which was clearing even more and making what it contained too visible. "You're right, Tex. That acorn didn't fall too far from the ugly tree."  

I was whistling in the dark. All that hate and malice running loose… The thought of what that Thing could have done if it hadn't wound up frozen tied my stomach in knots. My reaction to it must have been visible on my face, because Dr. Carrington chastised me for it.  

"You're allowing its physical appearance to sway your emotions, Dr. Sandburg. As a scientist, you should know better. There is so much our visitor could have taught us."  

I made a rude sound. "You didn't look into its eyes, Dr. Carrington. I have a strong feeling that Thing didn't come in peace. Why fly over the North Pole, which is uninhabited?"  

Jim rubbed my shoulder in silent sympathy. "You think he was a scout, Chief?"  

"I don't know, Jim." I leaned into his touch and shivered. The chill of the room wasn't the only reason for my reaction. "Before today I would have said the odds of there being intelligent life on Mars were minimal at best. It's too cold, too dry, and the atmosphere is too thin."  

"Nonsense!" Dr. Carrington slapped his hat against his thigh restlessly. "Ah. Richards. Lieutenant Dykes was able to get a message to General Fogarty while we were out on the ice, but I'd like to send him further word about this."  

"Shoot, that's why I'm h-h-here! I got an urgent m-m-message from General Fogarty for a C-c-captain Ellison?" Tex was shivering now, too, and his breath was a plume of white. "Jesus, it's cold in here!"  

"I'm Ellison." Jim took the paper from him and scanned it. "'Fogarty to Ellison. In receipt of earlier radio transmission. Remove craft from ice with all possible care.'"  

"I'd say someone is in deep shit," Megan Connor taunted.  

"Didn't your mama teach you not to use such language?"  

She glared at Taggart, who returned it with a glare of his own.  

Jim ignored them both. He continued reading, "'However, use thermite if necessary.'"  

"Oh, isn't that peachy-keen!" the reporter sniped. "Looks like your ass is covered, Captain."  

"Knock it off, Connor, and give the Cap some credit for knowing how the Air Force likes things done."  

Taggart and Connor continued snarling at each other.  

"What else does General Fogarty have to say, Captain Ellison?" Dr. Carrington demanded.  

"Just to keep everything protected until he can get up here with his staff chiefs." He crushed the paper and threw it into a corner, then balled one hand on his hip and ran the other over his brush cut. "Okay, listen, Tex. Radio General Fogarty. Tell him the craft was destroyed by the thermite bomb, but we have the pilot on ice. Literally."  

"Captain?"  

Jim nodded. "Tell him Dr. Carrington and his scientists want to thaw the remains and do an autopsy, and are waiting on his permission. Will that suit you, Dr. Carrington?"  

"Thank you, yes, Captain. Gentlemen, I think we need to warm up. Andrew, if you'll meet me in my laboratory? We'll see you later in the mess hall, I'm sure, Captain."  

"Yeah."  

"I'd better let Esther know what's going on." Dr. Chapman had been looking at me intently. He glanced at Jim, smiled, and followed his fellow scientists  

As soon as they left, Jim seemed to forget all about them. "That's all, Tex. "  

"G-g-got it, Captain Ellison." Tex was shivering more violently as he finished writing down the message. The susurration of the wind through the broken glass was a constant counterpoint to all conversation. "As soon as I get a response, I'll f-f-find you." He hurried out of the storeroom, not sparing a glance back at the ice and what it contained before heading for the radio room to send the transmission.  

"Hey, you could have asked him if I could send the story to my editor!"  

Jim gazed at her for a moment. "No."  

Taggart made no effort to disguise his chuckles, and she growled at him and hit his shoulder with the heel of her hand. He rubbed his shoulder in mock pain.  

Connor curled her lip and turned away from him. She pulled off her gloves and blew on her fingers, then reached for the camera that hung from her shoulder, aimed it at the block of ice, and began snapping away.  

"Jim?" Taggart nodded toward the reporter.  

"Let her, Joel. She won't be able to develop that film until we get back to Cascade." Apparently he didn't know about the station's dark room.  

"But…"  

I interrupted. "Lieutenant, we've had storms that last at least three weeks. It's unusual this early in the season, but it is possible that this could be one of them."  

He stared at Connor, the expression in his eyes hooded. "Three weeks with that woman?"  

"I don't think that would be a hardship. She's very attractive." That earned me a wink from her and scowls from both men. "What? Just because I prefer beef doesn't mean I can't appreciate a nicely displayed seafood platter." Esthetically speaking.  

Jim turned to his lieutenant. "Did you tell the Eskimos to stay in their village, Joel?"  

"No need to, Jim. They were harnessing their dogs and packing the sleds. Come daylight I think they'll be long gone."  

"They weren't planning on leaving until the end of the week." I didn't like the idea of our Eskimos traveling through that storm. It was my turn to run my hand through my hair. I caught the tie that kept it away from my face in my fingers, and it spilled loose. Absently I tucked the piece of braided leather into the pocket of my pants. "This thing must have scared the bejezzus out of them."  

Taggart shrugged. "Dunno. I don't speak Eskimo."  

Connor paused in her picture-taking. She wasn't the only one to roll her eyes.  

"Not Eskimo," I said, "Inupiat."  

"Yeah, yeah."  

"All right, if that's all, I suggest we…"  

A massive shudder rippled through me. The cold had managed to creep in through the neck of my parka, and I folded my arms across my chest, holding onto the dissipating warmth. "Excuse me, Jim. It's going to get really cold in here, even with your flight suits on. And maybe you haven't noticed, but the ice is clearing, and that thing inside is becoming very visible."  

Jim looked at it and took an abrupt, involuntary step back. He was pale. "Jesus. You're right, Chief. The watch will be every two hours. Joel, I'll send you a thermos of coffee."  

"Thanks, Jim. I'll be fine, though."  

"Hot shot tough guy," Connor muttered. "I'm going to see if Tex can get a message out to General MacLaren. I heard he was in Cascade. I was on the USS Missouri with him in '45, when the Japs signed the statement of surrender. I'll get the all-clear to send this story if it kills me!" She turned on her heel and started to stalk out, calling over her shoulder, "And you'd better not be watching my ass, Taggart!"  

Taggart laughed quietly.  

"You sure you don't need anything, Joel?"  

"Nah, I'm good. Oh, wait a second. Dinner!"  

"I'll send someone down with it."  

"Thanks, Jim. You're a good man! I'll see you in two hours."  

"Let's go, Chief."  

We went.  

The difference in the temperature was startling. I unzipped my parka, and Jim unzipped his flight suit to his waist.  

The corridor was empty. With Jim standing next to me, practically looming over me, it suddenly felt incredibly narrow. I stopped myself from fidgeting, but only just.  

"I'll go find Mrs. Chapman. She'll show you your quarters."  

"Why don't you do that, Chief?"  

"There should be enough room for you and Lieutenant Taggart and…  What?"  

"Why don't you show me where I'll be staying?"  

"Um… well, sure. It's this way."  

I led him down the corridor to the area relegated to representatives of the military. Dr. Carrington had had frequent run-ins with ranking members of the armed forces, and took perverse pleasure in quartering those assigned to periodic visits in the rooms furthest from the station's population. Oddly enough, it was the one thing that made him seem human.  

"But then I really need to get to my laboratory. Dr. Carrington is going to want the results of the experiments I've been running."  

"We have a little unfinished business, wouldn't you say?"  

"Do we?"  

"Look, we might as well have this conversation now, Chief."  

"In that case maybe you can tell me when it was you forgot my name."  

"What? What are you talking about?"  

"Never once did you use my name."  

"Oh, come on, Chief. You're exaggerating."  

"You think so? How many times have you called me 'Chief' in the last half hour?"  

"Once or twice?"  

"Eight."  

"You were counting?" He looked intrigued, then shook his head. "No, I'm sure I used your first name."  

"You didn't," I hunched a shoulder, "but if I'm wrong, fine. What is my name?"  

"Blair."  

My jaw sagged. "You knew it? All this time you knew it?" When we'd been in the front seat of Henri Brown's Rambler, he had been making love to Blair Sandburg and not some anonymous body he'd met on a blind date? Had the drinks at the Hideaway made me totally stupid? "If you knew it, why didn't you use it?"  

We had reached the quarters set aside for visitors. "Is this where we'll be staying?"  

I threw the door open, and Jim stepped past me. His eyes kept cutting toward me as he gazed around the room, and I wondered if his interest in the surroundings was real or feigned.  

"Each room has four cots as you can see," I informed him. "You didn't answer my question."  

"There are five of us."  

I pointed to a door in the far wall. "There's an adjoining room. You can have that one all to yourself, if you like."  

"Where does this lead?" Jim crossed to the far wall, unlatched the door and pulled it open, to get a face full of snow. He quickly shut the door. "Never mind." He went to study the fat-bellied, cast-iron stove in the center of the room. Beside it was a can that contained kerosene to fuel the stove. "A little primitive, don't you think, Chief?"  

"This building housed our original living quarters; it's very well insulated since it's mostly above ground, and these stoves supplied all of the heat. Once the other buildings were finished, electrical generators were installed, and they provide our heat now." I waited a beat, but he sat down on a bunk and pulled off his boots, then stripped off his flight suit. "Jim, are you going to tell me why you didn't call me by my name?"  

"Is that why you ran out on me?" He hung the outergear up on a hook on a wall and stepped back into his boots.  

"I didn't run out! I told you I had a plane to catch!"  

"You did?"  

"Didn't I?" Damn, I really couldn't remember. I promised myself I would *never* drink another Under the Wraps, not if I lived to be a hundred and five. "Well, I left you a note."  

"Yeah, and thank you so much. Did you have to leave it on my chest where everyone could see it? The whole flight up Taggart ragged me about my 'cute legs'."  

That hit me like a ton of bricks. I hadn't thought beyond his catching up with me at the airport. "Oh, shit, I'm so sorry, man! I didn't even think… Oh, shit. Is this a punishment detail? Are they going to court-martial you? Are you going to be dishonorably discharged? What are they going to do to you?"  

"If you can shut your mouth long enough, maybe I can tell you."  

"Shutting my mouth," I said miserably.  

"There's no problem, Blair." He was smiling. He took a couple of steps toward me.  

"There isn't?" I started to feel better.  

"You signed it with the letter 'C'. The men thought it was from my ex-wife, and I didn't see any need to tell them differently."  

I blew out a relieved breath, but my relief didn't last long. "Why would they think your ex-wife would be in the BOQ with you? Just how 'ex' is she?"  

"They're die-hard romantics and think I'll be much happier with someone warming my bed on a regular basis. They're partially right, I'd be happier with… *someone*… in my bed."  

The look he gave me made it clear that I was strongly in the running for that position, and I shivered, liking the idea of being sprawled in Jim's bed. Naked. His nostrils flared, and his eyes went hot as they ran over my body. I swallowed wrong and choked.  

"They've conveniently forgotten what a beast I was when I was with my ex. And she's as 'ex' as you can get, Chief. I have to keep track of her so I know where to send the alimony checks, but the last I heard, she was taking a job out of the states."  

"Oh. Well..."  

"Mind telling me why you used the letter 'C'?" 

"Well, you kept calling me 'Chief'. I wasn't sure how you would take it if I signed it with my initials." 

His eyes looked vague for a minute, and then he gave a snort of laughter. "No, I can see signing a letter 'BS' could be taken the wrong way."  

"I apologize for the note, Jim. I was a little irate at the time."  

"A little? I'd hate to see you in a full-blown snit."  

"Hey! I don't have snits, full-blown or otherwise!"  

"Of course not, Chief. Sorry. *Blair*. So that's what got your shorts in a bunch. I guess it's my turn to apologize. The drinks we had at that last place…What was it called?"  

"The Hideaway. You don't remember the Hideaway's name?" I didn't feel so bad now.  

He flushed, having picked up on the irony. Smart man, Jim Ellison. "Do you have any idea what was in those drinks?"  

"Uh… No."  

"I do. Pepper Pot Vodka. Dry vermouth. Clamato juice. Olive juice. After that first drink, I don't remember anything very clearly. When I woke up the next morning, my eyeballs were threatening to fall out of my head and roll around on the floor, and I had the hangover from hell. By the time I got my eyes to focus, it was too late, your flight had long since left. Since it was a flight to a high security facility, they wouldn't give me any information about it. I tracked down Brown. You've got loyal friends, you know that? He was reluctant to give me your name." Jim's mouth twisted wryly. "If he didn't consider me a friend also, I don't think even a threat to his boyish good-looks would have persuaded him that telling me would be the smart thing to do. Before I could find out where you had gone, General Fogarty ordered me to haul ass up here. Remind me to send the man a dozen roses. Anonymously."  

"You were going to come for me?"   

"Yeah."  

"I … I didn't expect that, Jim."   

"You should have. Don't you have any idea how attracted I am to you?" He wound a lock of my hair around his thumb and tugged me toward him. "I haven't felt like this about anyone in a very long time, Chief."  

My mouth felt as if it was stuffed with cotton. "Uh… I… uh… "  

"Blair." Suddenly I found myself pressed up against the wall with one hundred and ninety pounds of G.I. Joe plastered against me. "God, the way you smell! Everything about you makes me want you!"  

He began to nuzzle the length of my neck. If I hadn't known better, I'd have sworn he was imprinting my scent on his memory.  

His lips were around my earlobe, and his tongue was rubbing along the edge and his teeth were biting down, and my thoughts splintered.  

One of the tribes I'd lived with in the Fijis had pierced my earlobes in a ceremony that was sort of the tribal version of a Bar Mitzvah. I no longer wore the rings fashioned from conch shells, but my earlobes had been sensitive ever since.  

I shivered and swallowed a moan, positive I could climax just from his attention to my ear.  

"Jim!" I was so hard I thought my dick would poke through my fly. "Please!"  

"Yes!"  

I whimpered as he thrust his thigh high between my legs and rubbed it against my balls. I could feel his erection nudging my hip.  

Jim abruptly went still. "Someone's coming." His breath was a warm whisper in my ear, and then he was a couple of feet away from me.  

"Huh?" I was dazed but struggled to pull myself together.  

There was a brisk knock on the door.  

"You okay, Chief? Just a second!" he barked, then waited until I nodded before he called, "Come in."  

The door opened, and Mrs. Chapman stepped into the barracks.  

"Captain Ellison? How do you do? I'm Esther Chapman. I hope I haven't come at a bad time. I wanted to welcome you to our little slice of heaven. Have you seen Dr… Ah, Blair! There you are. Arthur is looking for you."  

"He is?"  

"Something about the MacCormick mold spores?"  

Shit. "Yes. The experiment should be almost finished now. Jim, I have to run. Can we finish this… um… discussion another time?"  

"Count on it, Chief. Over a cup of coffee?" His smile went right to my dick, and I licked my lips and smiled back at him.  

"Sounds good, Jim."  

"See you later, Blair." He seemed to hesitate on the 'b' of my name for just a second. Had he been going to call me 'babe'? My dick started to get hard again.  

As I left the visitors' quarters, I heard Mrs. Chapman say, "Come to the mess hall, Captain Ellison. After having been out on the ice all afternoon, I'm sure you can use a hot meal."  

I wondered how long Dr. Carrington would keep me in the lab. I sighed and absently tucked my shirt back into my pants. I was afraid Jim would be pulling his watch before I could get free.  

****

Jim's POV

"There's nothing wrong with me." I kept an unobtrusive distance between me and my wife, but the perfume she wore was still almost overpowering.  

"Jimmy, I had to go out and find someone who bottled *rain* water for Pete's sake, and you *still* complain that the sheets are too scratchy! I can't stand it any longer! I'm going home to Mother!"  

Carolyn's voice had taken on that fingernails-on-blackboard quality. I swallowed back the nausea and struggled not to put my hands over my ears to block the sound.  

"When will you be back? Dear?"  

"Never! I've had it! I want a divorce. Wendy knows a good lawyer."  

"Why aren't I surprised?"  

"You never liked my sister! Admit it! You never liked any of my family!" She began to pace the room. "Don't you dare fight me on this, James Ellison! I'll tell your commanding officer that you have a penchant for young men!"  

My mouth went dry. I'd never acted those times when the desire to fuck a man had become almost overwhelming. I'd just locked myself in the bathroom, turned on the shower, and jerked off, and jerked off, and jerked off.  

"That's a lie, Carolyn." I must have been attracted to this woman at some point to have married her, but for the life of me, I could no longer remember.  

"I'll still tell him."  

"Why are you doing this? I haven't given you cause!" Jesus, she made me so tired. "I've never been unfaithful to you, not once in the eighteen months we've been married."  

"Do you think fidelity is the problem? You could go and screw the neighbor's dog for all I care!" I recoiled at the venom in her voice. "It doesn't matter. You were a decorated war hero! I thought you would be in Washington , DC by now, aide to one of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, but you seem content to fly planes for the rest of your career."  

"You knew I was a pilot when you married me."  

My commander had told me that my chances of a position in the nation's capital had been squashed because of my wife. According to him, she didn't know how to play the game so I would get a desk job, how to flatter the wives of generals and politicians.  

I never told her. I never wanted to be cooped up in an office.  

Her mouth curled in an unattractive sneer, and she walked out, slamming the door behind her.  

I flinched, then looked around. These quarters were for married officers. I'd have to move out.  

****  

There had been no women since my divorce, but I needed something, and I was desperate enough to cruise the bars for a man.  

The first bar, The Cat's Pajamas, was dimly lit. Romantic music, the stuff women liked, was playing on the jukebox. Nat 'King' Cole singing about Mona Lisa. Perry Como's Hello, Young Lovers.  Mario Lanza's Be My Love. If anyone I knew saw me in this place, I'd never live it down, and not just because homosexuals patronized it.  

"I'll have a beer."  

"We don't serve beer here."  

"Wine?"  

"That we serve."  

"I'll have the house red."  

The bartender slid a stemmed glass from the overhead rack and selected a bottle from the rows behind him. While he poured the wine into the glass, I glanced down the length of the bar. The man standing at the far end was about my height and well-built, and he looked promising.  

"That'll be fifty cents," the bartender said as he put the glass in front of me and reached for the dollar bill I had placed on the bar. I put my hand over his.  

"And give him," I nodded toward the end of the bar, "whatever he's having."  

"It's your funeral," he muttered.  

"Huh?"  

"What?"

 You said… Forget it."  

He gave me an odd look, went back to mixing a Manhattan , and brought it to the man.  

"It's from him." He pointed to me.  

He really didn't have to announce it to the whole bar. I was able to hear him all the way down at my end.  

The man gave a faint smile and raised his glass. "Good luck," he mouthed.  

I smiled and raised my glass, and walked to where he stood. "Hi. I'm Jim."  

"I'm Tim."  

I winced.  

"And he's mine!" A skinny little guy came storming up to us from the back where the men's room was. He wedged himself between Tim and me, his chin thrust up and fire shooting from his eyes. He didn't come much higher than mid-chest. 

"Am I, sugar cookie?" Tim blushed and lowered his eyes. I'd never seen a guy with such ridiculously long eyelashes.  

"Of course you are!" 'Sugar Cookie' frowned at me. "Go wreck somebody else's home, you!"  

"Easy, Mickey Rooney. All I did was buy him a drink!" For a second, I thought he was going to take a swing at me. Instead he pulled himself up to his full height.  

"This used to be a nice bar, Eddie. Come along, Timothy. I'm taking you home."  

Tim caught his hand and kissed it, and followed him docilely toward the door.  

The bartender glared at me. "I think you'd better leave. They're regulars, and I don't know you from a hole in the wall."  

Hole in the wall. That sounded pretty good. I knew of a place where there were glory holes in the restroom. I'd stick my dick in one and get a quick blowjob. Or maybe I'd find someone to fuck before I went home.  

I left some change on the bar and walked out.  

A few blocks over, down an alley, was a dinky little place that was as different from the Cat's Pajamas as a bar could get, the Nite Owl. Motorcycles were parked haphazardly in front of it, and beat-up jalopies that had been new before Prohibition had been repealed.  

At the door stood the bouncer, who was about seven feet tall, swarthy, with a smooth-shaven skull, bulldog eyes and cauliflower ears, and a ring in his nose. He wore a leather vest over his bare torso, and his beefy arms, which were covered with tattoos, were folded menacingly across his chest. He opened the door, and I walked into the bar.  

As soon as I entered it, the smells hit me, spilt beer and alcohol. Aftershaves and sickly-sweet colognes. Bodies that hadn't been near water since the previous Saturday night, if then. And underlying it all, coming from the back of the place, was the odor of urine and vomit and spunk. The skin at the base of my skull tightened.  

"Jesus, man!" I complained to the bartender. "Don't you believe in cleaning this place up? It stinks to high heaven!"  

Needless to say, that didn't win him over. "Whaddaya talkin' about, Mac? I gotta cleanin' staff that comes in every mornin'! Now either order somethin', or take a hike."  

"I'll have a beer." That seemed the safest drink in this place; nothing so gay as wine was offered. I just hoped the glass was clean.  

He filled the glass from the tap and slapped it down in front of me. "That'll be a dime."  

I fumbled in my pocket for the change and gave it to him, then took a long drink of the beer and looked around, checking out the talent.  

In the far corner was a pool table where a game of 9-Ball was going on. The two men, dressed in motorcycle leathers, were circling the table, sizing up their shots.  

Nearby stood a younger man. He couldn't have been more than twenty. His hair was neatly trimmed, his clothes were unostentatious, and he looked like Joe College . He smelled good, even from where I stood.  

There was another scent mixed with his cologne, the odor of sexual excitement. I could see the bulge behind his fly.  

"What's going on?" I asked the man standing next to me.  

"They're playing for tail. The winner gets to fuck Benjie over the pool table."  

I swallowed hard, becoming aroused in spite of myself at the thought of the young man being fucked in public.  

There was a final crack as the cue ball struck the 9 ball and sent it rolling into a side pocket.  

"I'd almost swear this game was fixed," the loser groused, and let his pool cue fall to the floor. "You got all the luck, Jake." He stalked out of the bar.  

The winner tossed his stick onto the felt of the table-top.  

Joe College , Benjie, licked his lips, and I heard his breath hitch in his throat. "Time to collect your winnings, Jake." He rubbed his palm over his erection.  

"All right, sunshine. Drop your trousers, and let's see if you're worth it."  

"You know I am."  

The other patrons of the bar watched avidly as the young man did as he was ordered. His trousers slipped down his lean hips to puddle around his ankles, and he leaned over the pool table, spreading his legs. His buttocks were taut. They clenched and unclenched in anticipation. The crevice between them glistened with some lubricant. He'd come here prepared for this.  

The silence of the room was broken by the sound of a zipper being lowered. The winner moved up behind Benjie, parted the waiting cheeks, and slammed into him.  

They both groaned. Pheromones flooded the room, as well as the smell of come as a few of the observers ejaculated into their pants.  

It was too much, and that was when the migraine turned vicious. Flashing lights, dizziness, nausea…  

My knuckles whitened as I gripped the edge of the bar, trying to steady myself. Fucking hell. I had to get out of there.  

The bartender glared as I swayed back and forth. "You get sick in here, Mac, you clean it up."  

"Telephone?" My jaw was clenched so tightly it ached.  

He jerked his head toward the rear of the bar, and I staggered in that direction.  

I found a pay phone back by the john and breathed shallowly to keep from vomiting. I called my friend, Henri Brown.  

"H, it's Jim. I hate to bother you, but I need a ride home."  

"Sure thing. Just give me the address, and I'll come get you."  

I blew out a breath. "Thanks, man. I owe you." I put my hand over the mouthpiece and looked around. The bouncer was just coming out of the john. "Hey, Gargantua! What's the address of this place?" He told me, and I rattled it off to Henri.  

"I'm familiar with the area, Jim. Be there in ten."  

"I'll be waiting outside."  

Henri was straighter than a yardstick. If he saw what was going on inside the Nite Owl, I had the sinking feeling I would lose his friendship.  

In ten minutes, true to his word, his Nash Rambler cruised to a stop in front of the bar, and I climbed into the front seat. I knew he was staring at me, but I felt too miserable to meet his eyes, and after a few seconds, he pulled away from the curb.  

He didn't say anything for a few blocks. I had my head between my knees and my eyes tightly closed.  

"Uh… Jim, that was a gay bar I picked you up at."  

"I know."  

He slowed. We were probably coming to a red light, or a turn, or something. I didn't much care.  

"Man, you're not gonna throw up on my floorboard, are you?"  

"No," I said through gritted teeth. H took good care of his car, but the idling of the engine, as quiet as it was, was like a pick digging into my brain.  

"Okay." He popped the clutch, put the car into gear, and drove on. I didn't need to see his actions. Each one was loud enough for me to hear and identify.  

"You gonna ask me about why I was at that bar, H?"  

I could feel the faint stir of air as he turned his head to look at me.  

"No." He drove in silence for a minute or so, then continued. "I owe you, Jim."  

"H, don't pose riddles to a dying man. I haven't done anything to put you in my debt."  

"Joel Taggart."  

"What about Joel?" How did my co-pilot get involved in this conversation?  

"He's my brother."  

"Huh?" My brain really wasn't working well enough to make heads or tails of this. "But your last name is Brown, and his is Taggart."  

"All that means, Jim," he said with exaggerated patience, "is that my mama was married before she married my daddy."  

"Oh. Okay. That makes sense now."  

"Mama would deny it, but we all know that Joel is her favorite. She cried like a baby when he was drafted. He was in your squad on that little island in the Pacific. You saved his life. I figure I owe you. My whole family owes you."  

"I was just doing my job, H."  

"That may be, but my brother is alive, and my Mama is happy as a clam because he is. And that's thanks to you. I'm just telling you this because I want you to know that your secret is safe with me, Jim."  

"Thank you." Now that the smells of the bar weren't overwhelming me, the migraine was easing off, and I was able to sit up. I leaned my head against the seat back and stared out the windshield at the road as it unwound before us.  

"Good thing you weren't in uniform."  

"That would not have been a smart move on my part, Henri. And lack of sex hasn't made me that stupid."  

"Yet?" I could hear the smile in his voice.  

I made a vague sound in response.  

He turned on the radio and began to sing along under his breath, "'Look- a here girls I'm telling you now, They call me Lovin' Dan…'"  

After a second, I joined him. "'I rock 'em, roll 'em all night long, I'm a sixty-minute man…'"  

****  

H had rented an apartment off base. "You haven't seen it yet," he'd told me. "Come on over Saturday afternoon. We can go out for a beer afterwards. Just not to the Nite Owl, okay?"  

I should have known he had something up his sleeve. He was looking too innocent.  

When I realized that what Henri Brown had in mind was setting me up on a date, I was ready to turn around and walk out without even letting him know I was there. I hated blind dates.  

I could hear the soft rumble of conversation from where I stood by the front door. And then I heard that voice. It was like warm honey, and it seemed to slide under the waistband of my trousers and wrap itself around my dick.  

"I don't do one night stands, H."  

"But I swear this one will be better. Besides, he's a captain!"  

Brown had such faith in the phrase 'an officer and a gentleman.' We put our pants on one leg at a time, just like enlisted men and civilians. I would have laughed under my breath if I wasn't so wrapped up in those mellow vowels and consonants of the man who was with him.  

"You've already said that once. Nope. Not a chance."  

"Geez, Hairboy. You don't have to marry the guy! Just have dinner with him!"  

I found myself hoping Brown would be able to talk the owner of that voice into agreeing to go out with me.  

"Do the words 'no way in hell' ring a bell?"  

I rapped on the door to get their attention. "H. Hello."  

"Hey, tough guy! Long time no see!"  

I smiled at him, but I couldn't take my eyes of the young man who stood a few feet from him, packing. Curly brown hair with chestnut streaks in it. Deep blue eyes. A compact body of medium height. I'd have to lean down in order to kiss him. I licked my lips, wanting to taste that kiss.  

He paused in his packing and watched me equally intently, and suddenly I was inundated by a scent that was more arousing than any woman's Paris perfume. It spoke to me of cool, soft sheets that quickly became hot and rumpled; of bodies that glistened with sweat and writhed with sexual heat and want.  

I was lost in a trance. That had happened to me before, where a sight or a sound or an odor would almost overpower me, and I'd be trapped in limbo. I'd learned to compensate to a degree, and no one ever knew.    

I pulled myself out of limbo in time to hear Henri saying, "… meet James Ellison."  

****  

It was embarrassing. I had no idea what his name was, and the longer I delayed asking, the more embarrassing it became. So I called him 'Chief', and I thought I was getting away with it.  

After I'd told him more about me than even my ex-wife knew, I almost fumbled the ball. "Why don't you tell me about…"  

But he hadn't caught my hesitation, and I was able to cover it with, "… you?"  

I loved listening to him talk. His voice made me hotter and hotter, and I didn't want to see the evening end. I told him so, and he took me to this place called… Well, there was a blank space in my memory. We had these drinks, and I also couldn't remember what they were called.  

But I could tell from his scent that he wanted me, I could feel it in the heat that was pouring off his body, and I knew before the evening was over, I'd be getting lucky.  

I already considered myself lucky. I not only wanted him, I *liked* him. And he seemed to be really interested in me.  

Only I blew it again in the parking lot. We dry-humped on the front seat of the car until we came, and then … Did I tell him how much I'd liked what we'd done? How good it had felt? No. I fell asleep.  

I fell asleep.  

In the morning when I woke up, I was in the BOQ, and all I had was a note that said, //Sorry I couldn't stay longer, but I have an early flight to catch. At 8. AM. At Cascade Airport . By the way, you have cute legs! ~C~//   

'C'? Charles? Clifford? Clarence? I winced at that last one. It sounded like George Bailey's guardian angel.  

I could have blamed the drinks, whatever was in them, and whatever the fuck they were called.  

I could have blamed the son-of-a-bitch at the airport who refused to tell me where the only 8 A.M. flight that had taken off that morning had been heading for, especially when I couldn't tell him the name of the person I was looking for.  

In the end I only had myself to blame.  

James Joseph Ellison, you could be such an ass.  

****  

It was the following morning before I could track down Henri Brown.  

"You *what*?"  

"C'mon, H, don't make me repeat myself." We'd been going round and round for the past twenty minutes.  

"Jim, how could you have forgotten his name? Dammit, and I told him you were different."  

"I know. I'm sorry. I can't explain it. It was just that… "  

How could I tell anyone, even Henri Brown, that I'd looked at the young man-- with hair that I just knew would feel so good wrapped around my dick, and eyes so blue I could picture myself drowning in them while I thrust with slow, lazy strokes into the velvet heat of his back passage and we both came-- and he was all I could see, the beat of his heart was all I could hear?

"Okay, Ellison, but this is the last time I'm going to tell you. Blair. Jacob. Sandburg. He's working up in the Arctic at a research station."  

I repeated the name silently. "Thanks, H."  

"And Jim, if you hurt him…"  

"I won't. I promise." I headed for the door.  

"Hey! Where are you going?"  

"To the Arctic . If there are scientists there, they're going to need supplies, and I'm the pilot to fly them up."  

"What's General Fogarty going to say about that?"  

"I'll find a way to sweet-talk him into it. I've got a way with generals, H."  

But it turned out I didn't even have to open my mouth.  

I decided that it wouldn't do to present myself to the General with Blair's come still on my groin. It had been like an aphrodisiac, and I'd gone through the day and night half-hard.  

If I could smell it, wouldn't others be able to, also? So I went back to the Bachelor Officers' Quarters to shower and change.  

"Jim!"  

"What, Joel?" I had a towel slung around my neck, and I was pulling on my pants. "You want to make fun of my legs some more?"  

"Well, it's nice to know your wife appreciates your legs."  

Not my wife, but Joel had no idea I liked men; Henri had kept that secret even from his big brother, and I wasn't about to tell him.  

"Anyway, General Fogarty wants to see us. We'd better haul ass. The Old Man sounded like he was ready to have kittens."  

I finished dressing quickly, then requisitioned a jeep and drove to General Fogarty's quarters. Hauser, his aide, let us in. "Captain, Lieutenant. The General is inside. He's waiting for you."  

"Thanks, Corporal."  

General Fogarty looked up from the papers on his desk. The skin around his eyes was tight and drawn, as if he hadn't slept in days. "Jim, I need you to fly to Carrington's research station."  

"Carrington's? Yes, sir." Damn. This was going to delay my plans to find Blair Sandburg, but I was military, first and foremost. "I'll need the flight coordinates."  

He rattled off the latitude and longitude.  

"That's the Arctic , sir."  

"Yes. Do you have a problem with that, Captain?"  

"No, sir." I'd be in the same general area as Blair. Maybe if he was close enough, I'd be able to pay him a surprise visit before heading back to the States. I struggled to keep a broad grin off my face.  

"Dr. Carrington has sent word that something… *large*… crashed about 48 miles east of his polar camp last night. It's causing a magnetic disturbance that's starting to effect transmissions as far south as Anchorage , and I want you to look into it."  

"Yes, sir. I'll call the field and make sure the Sweetheart is ready to go. Joel?"  

"Got it, Jim. I'll round up Erickson, MacAuliff, and Dykes, and make sure we've got insulated flight suits on board. If you'll excuse me, General?"  

"One moment, Lieutenant. I want you to see that additional supplies are taken on board. Severe storms have been predicted, and I don't want to hear it if they run short of toilet paper again. What the hell do they do with it? Decorate the walls? And you'd better bring extra units of plasma, in case this turns into a rescue." He waited for Joel to salute and leave before he continued. "I want you to take Megan Connor with you, Jim."  

"Do you think that's a good idea, General? You know that she and Taggart are like oil and water!"  

"Yes, well, she and I mix even less well! Get her the fuck out of Cascade, Ellison, or I won't be responsible for what I do to that woman! She's always asking questions the public has no right to know the answers to. I don't understand the Australians, letting a woman do a job like that."  

"Did she beat you at poker again, sir?"  

"That has nothing to do with it," he growled, and pointed toward the door. "And Ellison, make sure you keep me posted!"  

"Yes, sir!" I tossed him a snappy salute  

"Hauser!" I heard him shout for his aide. "Where the hell is my…" The door shut on the remainder of his words.  

****  

The Arctic was colder than… Well, it was cold. The Sweetheart of Cascade could fly, but she couldn't keep the wind out worth a lick. I concentrated on the instruments and tried to ignore the chill creeping up my pants' legs.  

Joel tapped my shoulder. "Why don't you get into your flight suit, Jim? I'll take over for a while. And get some coffee while you're at it. Your teeth are starting to sound like castanets. It's very distracting!"  

"Thanks, big guy."  

He gave a snort of laughter. Joel Taggart could be a real smart ass, but he was one of the best co-pilots I'd ever flown with. He slid into the seat beside mine and settled his hands on the yolk.  

I unfastened my seat belt and went into the main cabin. My flight suit was hanging from a hook. I took it down and climbed into it, then poured coffee from a thermos into the cup that also served as its cap. It was still hot. I sipped and watched my crew.  

They were sitting around a wooden crate, cards in their gloved hands, groaning as Megan Connor fanned out her hand and said, "Read 'em and weep, boys."  

"Shit," Eddie Dykes snarled. Six feet tall, with sandy hair and light brown eyes, my radio man wasn't used to losing, much less to a woman. He threw his cards down. "Are you sure this is the first time you've ever played poker?"  

She smiled at him, the most angelic expression I had ever seen, gathered up the bills and coins, and stacked them neatly in front of her. Then she scooped up the cards and competently shuffled them.  

"All right, gentlemen, the name of the game is five card draw. Aces and deuces are wild, Jacks and better to open."  

I swallowed a laugh. I liked Erickson, MacAuliff, and Dykes, but when it came to women, they were three of the most condescending, patronizing men I knew. The Australian reporter was proving to be a real education for them.  

"Jim!"  

"Yeah, Joel?"  

"I'm getting a message from the research station! You'd better come listen to this!"  

I went back into the cockpit in time to hear the radio crackle with static.  

"Say again, Tex ?" Joel requested.  

"Check your instruments. You're off course by about twelve degrees east. Adjust your compass reading."  

"Fuck, you're right! What's going on?"  

"Whatever it was that crashed last night is throwing off enough magnetic waves to send everything out of whack."  

Joel and I exchanged glances. This was what General Fogarty had been worried about.  

"Okay, Tex. Thanks."  

"Jim! Look at this!" Joel's voice was low and tense. "The compass is going haywire! There's no way in hell our instruments are gonna get us to the research station!"  

I thought quickly. "Listen, Tex. Keep your mic open, and we'll home in on it, okay?"  

"I could sing for you," he offered, and began to warble. "'East is east and west is west, and the wrong one I have chose…'"  

"NO!" both of us shouted.  

"Damn! No one ever lets me sing!" he grumbled, but he stopped.  

"We're coming up against some serious head winds, Jim."  

I checked the gauges and nodded. "About forty miles an hour." I did some rapid calculations in my head. "We're an hour out, Tex. Just let the head of your security know when we'll be in."  

"Will do, Captain Ellison." We could hear him humming, but mercifully he didn't sing.  

****  

The Sweetheart of Cascade touched down at the research station's airstrip, and I immediately ordered a fuel line hooked up to her. I wanted this mission completed as soon as possible so I could ask about Blair Sandburg.  

A tall black man strode up to me, a fat cigar between his lips. "Captain Ellison? It's an honor to meet the hero of Vanuatu . I'm Simon Banks, head of security here. This trouble with our instruments… I'm glad you made it all right."  

"Thank you, Captain Banks."  

"Our radio has been crapping out periodically, but just before this last time we received a message that you're carrying fresh supplies for us?"  

"Yes. If your men will help mine getting them unloaded, we can take off as soon as my plane is refueled."  

"Good idea. We've got a break in the weather, but it's anybody's guess how long that will last. Move it, people! *Move it*!"  

The supplies were quickly stacked in the uppermost of the camp's buildings. The support staff could deal with them from there.  

Banks ticked off the scientists' names as they boarded. "Dr. Chapman, who really runs this place, and don't let anyone tell you differently. Professor Laurenz, Dr. Auerbach, Dr. Olson. Where the fuck did Carrington go?" Banks was becoming increasingly impatient. "Jesus, the man always disappears! Barnes, have you seen Dr. Carrington? Why can't he stay put? Ravn!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Get those dogs in here! And make sure they don't bite anyone! Allee, get that sled out of the way! Goddammit, the harnesses are tangling! Sowaiapik!"  

The Eskimos hurried to obey him, but they had grins on their faces. They obviously knew the man's bark was worse than his bite, unlike the huskies who snapped and snarled at anyone who came near them.  

The dogs finally settled, the harnesses were untangled, and the sled was stowed away.  

A last passenger entered through the hatch.  

"Dr. Carrington," Megan Connor called, "how nice to see you again! "  

So this was the famous scientist who'd been at Bikini . A man of medium height, Carrington was in his late fifties, although at first glance his white hair made him appear a good deal older.  

"Megan, my dear!"  

Joel scowled and turned to stalk into the cockpit. "Everyone else calls her 'Connor'."  

Dr. Carrington took her hand and raised it to his lips. "How long has it been?"  

"Too long, I'm afraid." She glared after my co-pilot, then gave the scientist her full attention. "You'll give me a story this time, won't you?"  

"Of course! After you were so kind as to sit on that item for the sake of national security, and then have someone else beat your deadline? It's the least I can do! Why don't you sit beside me, and I'll…" He yawned. "Oh, I beg your pardon! I've been awake for the last few days. Research, experiments, now this… whatever it was that crashed."  

"Not at all, Doctor."  

"Excuse me, Dr. Carrington. Are all your scientists on board?"  

He looked around at the men milling in the enclosed space. "Yes, Captain… er… ?"  

"Ellison, sir. I'll be flying you out to the location. All right, then, let's get this show on the road. Ken, Bob, secure the hatches." While my navigator and crew chief closed and locked the doors, everyone else was busy finding seats and buckling up. "Joel?"  

"She's ready to go, Jim!" he called back from the cockpit.  

"Roger that."  

The Sweetheart took off like the lady she was and made the trip to the site where the magnetic disturbance was emanating from with no trouble at all.  

I circled to find a landing spot.  

"Holy shit! Jim!" Joel grabbed and shook my shoulder and pointed down.  

Almost directly below us, encased in the ice, was a huge, shadowed shape. The wind was blowing snow over it, and it was becoming obscured, but it almost looked like a…  

"No. Jim, no!"  

"Joel, the Air Force has stated that there are no such things!"  

Only it turned out there were.  

Once I throttled back and had the Sweetheart safely landed, we disembarked out onto the ice, my men, Simon Banks' security team, the reporter, the scientists. The Eskimos stayed with the dogs, watching with questioning eyes as we fanned out and tried to determine the dimensions of the craft.  

Bob MacAuliff, my crew chief, carried a Geiger counter. He was just under average height, with curly dark hair and eyes the color of Elizabeth Taylor's. "Whatever this is, Jim, it's radioactive! The counter is climbing!"  

"All right, men." I shouted to be heard by them all. Megan Connor cleared her throat. "And woman. Spread out. Let's see if we can find out how big this thing is!"  

With heads down, we paced the area. Once we reached the outermost point, each of us turned to face the center, arms out-stretched, gazing from one to the other.  

"Holy smoke!"  

"Son-of-a bitch!"  

"Well, fuck me!" That last came from Connor. We stared at her, but she was too busy scribbling something in a notebook to take any notice.  

"Interesting." Dr. Carrington's choice of words was an understatement.  

There it was, an almost perfect circle. We had found a flying saucer!  

The other scientists were almost incoherent with excitement, but Dr. Carrington was more restrained. "Really, gentlemen, you couldn't be so arrogant as to believe that in this vast universe, the Almighty only created human beings as sentient life forms?"  

"But how did it get in the ice?"  

"I imagine the heat of its entry into our atmosphere melted the ice, and then it froze over." He stroked his fingers over what appeared to be an airfoil, a stabilizer of some sort, which was the only part of the craft that was free of the ice. His action almost seemed sexual.  

Dr. Chapman was also studying the metal with interest. "File, please."  

For a few minutes, the only sound was the susurration of the wind and the rasp of metal on metal.  

"Anything, Hugo?" Dr. Carrington had his hands deep in his pockets. Unlike some of the other scientists, he refrained from shifting from one foot to the other.  

Chapman made an impatient sound. "Nothing. I imagine this is some alloy, but I can't be sure what kind without some filings."  

"Well, we need to get this out of the ice, don't you agree, Doctor Carrington?"  

"Oh, absolutely, Andrew. And perhaps the rest of you would be so kind as to see if possibly the craft broke up upon crashing?"  

The scientists scattered to do as he bid. The security men looked to Simon Banks. He nodded, and they began to sift through the snow on the outskirts of the craft.  

"What would you suggest, Captain Ellison? To get the craft out of the ice?"  

I'd been studying the horizon uneasily. A weather front appeared to be building. I brought my attention back to the scientist and rubbed my jaw. "In a case like this, the SOP, standard operating procedure, is to use a thermite bomb to free it from the ice."  

"That does sound logical." He noticed I kept looking to the East. "I suggest we hurry."  

"Yeah. Joel, get the thermite. I think there's some in the sled, otherwise it's in the Sweetheart. Ken, we'll need the wires and the detonator. Bob, clear everyone back, then start digging holes to place the thermite. I want a bomb at each quadrant. Have you got an ice axe?" One of Banks' men handed him the tool, then paced off about a dozen yards and started digging as well. "Okay. Eddie, get on the horn and raise the station's radio man. Tell him to contact Fogarty. Have him pass on the information that we've found a saucer-shaped plane in the ice…"  

"That's no airplane, Captain Ellison!" a man I didn't know challenged me.  

"Barnes!" Banks snapped. "Let the man do his job."  

I nodded my thanks to the head of security but decided to explain anyway. "No, Barnes, it isn't a plane, but anyone can listen in on our transmissions. You see that smudge to the West? That's Siberia . I don't want the Russians breathing down our necks. Eddie…"  

"Got it, Jim. I'll send this out ASAP."  

"Good man. Okay, let's…"  

"Captain, can I send out a story?"  

"Not at this point, Miss Connor."  

"*Connor*!"  

I stared at her blankly. "Yeah, sure."  

Joel and Ken returned on the run, wired the bombs, and buried them. I hooked the wires to the detonator and unwound them until there was a safe distance between me and the craft.  

"Everyone under cover?" There were grunts of assent. "Okay, then." I took a deep breath and pushed down on the plunger with all my weight.  

For long seconds nothing seemed to happen. The bombs would work beneath the surface, gradually elevating the temperature until the ice melted and the saucer was freed from its prison.  

But it didn't work that way, not this time. This time it was a foretaste of hell, searing heat and thunderous roars as explosions ripped apart the landscape, making the very ground cry out.  

The ice itself seemed to blaze in fury, but it was the craft beneath the ice that burned. For an endless time it burned, and then the fire died down and went out.  

Banks and I both made sure no one was injured, then I turned to my crew chief. "Bob. Anything on the Geiger counter?" I asked tensely.  

"Nothing but residual readings now, Jim." He started casting about, searching for… what? Something that would prove his captain wasn't an idiot? The only thing that would save my ass from a court-martial for destroying the first evidence of extraterrestrial life was the fact that I'd followed procedures to the letter. If I were lucky.  

"Girl, are you all right?"  

I turned to see Joel standing over Megan Connor, who was sitting, legs splayed and shaking snow out of her eyes, and swearing fit to beat the band.  

"Motherfucking son-of-a-bitch of an explosion! No, I'm not all right, you big lug! I've had the breath knocked out of me, I'm sitting up to my armpits in snow, and my ass is wet! Give me a hand up before I freeze to this spot!"  

"Yeah, I guess there's nothing wrong with you." Joel helped the abrasive reporter to her feet and brushed the snow off the back of her pants. I glanced around quickly, but no one else seemed to notice the gesture.  

"Gone!" Standing and staring at the smoking remains, Dr. Carrington appeared to have aged in the few minutes it had taken the saucer to disintegrate.  

"It must have been a magnesium alloy," Dr. Chapman murmured. "That's the only metal that would burn like that."  

"All that knowledge, gone."  

"Jim! Jim! I'm getting something!" Bob was about a dozen yards from where the melted ice was starting to refreeze.  

"What?" The scientists converged on him, dropping to their hands and knees to frantically brush away layers of chipped ice to see what lay beneath.  

"There's something here!"  

"It's humanoid! See? Arms and legs!"  

"How big is it?"  

"Can we get this out?"  

"Yes, of course!" Dr. Carrington was once again like a young man. "This is recently formed ice. It will separate easily enough! Ice axes, Captain Ellison! We can hack through with ice axes."  

"You sure you don't want to use thermite again, Captain?" Connor drawled.  

"Connor, put a sock in it!" Joel jumped to my defense. He towered over her, but she stood her ground, her hands fisted at her hips, her chin thrust forward.  

I must not have been seeing things clearly when I thought he'd petted her backside.  

"Let's get a move on, people. That sky isn't looking promising, and I want to get back to the station as soon as we can."  

"What do you make of it, Captain?" Banks had rejoined me. I shrugged. "Well, the Eskimos have the sled ready. We can haul that chunk of ice back to the plane."  

I studied the size of the block of ice that had finally emerged dubiously. "It's going to take an act of god getting that thing into the Sweetheart. Captain Banks, as I told Dr. Carrington, the military has jurisdiction over this, our visitor in the ice, the research station, everything."  

"Ellison, I'm not being paid enough for me to fight you on this. I have enough trouble keeping these scientists in line as it is. They see no harm in transmitting sensitive data over airwaves that are being monitored by the Reds." He rubbed his gut. "I'm getting an ulcer over it."  

I shook my head. I wouldn't want his job for all the oil in Texas , only it looked as if right now, I had no choice in the matter. "Joel, go back and get the engines warmed up. Connor, go with him."  

"Why? If it's simply because I'm a woman…"  

"Look. There's a storm front coming up fast." I pointed to the east. "We need to get out of here ASAP. As soon as these men get that block of ice loaded on the sled, we're all heading back to the plane. There's no reason for you to be here now, so …"  

"Okay, flyboy, as long as you had a logical explanation. C'mon, hot shot. Let's get going before my pants freeze solid, and you have to carry me."  

"In your dreams, Connor."  

"Captain! Captain Banks!" The man, Barnes, came stumbling up to us, his face green.  

"What's wrong?"  

His mouth worked, and he jammed his fist between his teeth. Tears streamed down his face, and his shoulders heaved sporadically. "Ice axe. In its brain. Green matter oozed out." He turned even greener, doubled over, and vomited into the snow.  

"Simon, I'll get him back to the plane." The tall, craggy-faced man Banks had introduced as Dr. Chapman slid a supporting arm around Barnes' shoulders. "Come on, Danny. It's all right. It could have happened to any of us." He led him away.  

Banks stared after them. "Six months he's been up here with us. That's the first time I've ever heard anyone call him anything but Barnes."  

"Jim!"  

"Yeah, Bob?"  

"We've got the block loaded, but the Eskimos don't want to go near it."  

"Shit. Banks, can any of your men handle a dogsled?"  

"A gun, a gal, a glass of booze, but not a dogsled. That's what we hire the Eskimos for."  

"Shit. Okay, promise them… I don't know, a date with Rita Hayworth, fifty bucks? What do Eskimos want? Promise them anything."  

"Would if I could, Captain, but I don't know more than a few words. I really wish Carrington hadn't been so adamant about leaving Blair behind. He speaks their lingo really well."  

"Blair?" My heart was suddenly thudding so hard in my chest it felt as if it was trying to get out. How many Blairs were there at the North Pole?  

"Dr. Blair Sandburg, one of our botanists. Good kid." He smiled, and I wanted to rip his head off. What was he to Blair?  

"You're… uh… pretty close to him?"  

"We're friends."  

There were friends, and there were *friends*.  

"Jim, what are we gonna do?"  

Fuck. I shoved the worry over Banks and the man who was *mine* out of my mind. "Ken you get on the back of the sled. Bob, you and I will take the lead lines and run with them."  

"You think this will work, Cap?"  

"It better had." I stared into the East. "Let's get out of here."  

****  

I cracked a landing ski, but we made it back in one piece.  

"They say any landing you walk away from is a good landing," Joel murmured as he shoved the yolk forward, stripped the earphones from his head, and unfastened his seat belt.  

"Who are they kidding? When General Fogarty hears I've broken another landing ski, he's going to take it out of my pay! Jesus, would you listen to those dogs whine! They've been at it the whole time!" I followed him into the main cabin.  

"They have? I guess I was so wrapped up in helping you keep us in the air that I just didn't notice."  

Damn. Was my hearing acting up again?  

"Good landing, Cap."  

"Thanks, Bob. Disembark our passengers."  

"Roger."  

"Eddie, hustle to the radio room and see if you can get a message to General Fogarty. I don't like that we've had no response to anything from the Sweetheart."  

"Will do, Cap."  

"Captain Banks, is there somewhere in the station where we can store the block of ice until I get word from General Fogarty?"  

"I've been giving it some thought, Captain Ellison. The upper building isn't used much any more."  

"Fine." The hatches were opened, and the huskies lunged toward freedom. "Someone get these dogs out of here! Look, that storm is right on our ass; my first priority is to get my plane secured."     

"Take care of it. I'll deal with my men and the scientists."  

"Thanks, Banks."  

He raised his voice. "Come on, men! We need to get this thing into one of the storerooms!"  

"Captain Ellison? Man, you just made it, Captain! This looks like it's shaping up to be a bitch of a blizzard! We'd better give you a hand with this!" The ground crew jumped to it and we worked together to make sure the Sweetheart would be safe from the rising storm.  

"Hurry!" I cast a glance at the sky. "Hurry!"  

"Captain!" A group of the scientists converged on me, and I swore. There wasn't time to listen to them whining about that Thing in the ice. "Captain Ellison, this is under military jurisdiction…"  

"You have the say-so, so you have to let us have access to our visitor!"  

"Time may very well be of the essence!"  

"We've lost the ship…"  

"Are you saying it's my fault?" I snarled. The scientist I recognized as Dr. Olson backed up abruptly.  

"No, of course not. No. But you have to let us …"  

"I don't *have* to do a fucking thing! I told you we needed to hear from General Fogarty. Once we get the all clear from him, you can dance naked with that Thing for all I care! Now if you gentlemen don't give me and these men room to get my plane tied down, I'll use your guts to do it!"  

They backed away.  

"Jim, Ken and I can finish with this."  

"Thanks, Bob. I'm going to see if Eddie was able to get through to Cascade." The wind was starting to inch its way past the collar of my flight suit. I tugged up the collar.  

Banks stood by the door to the uppermost building. He'd yanked off his cap and was running a hand through his cropped, black hair. Joel, Connor, and someone else were flanking the block of ice. I jogged over to them, the scientists trailing after me like Bo Peep's sheep.  

"There's no control for the temperature in the storerooms, but I'll see what I can do."  

"Find a way to get that temperature down," I snapped. These eggheads might have book smarts, but when it came to common sense, they left a lot to be desired. "I don't care what you do, Einstein, just do it. If this Thing starts melting, I'm gonna hold you personally responsible. Banks…"  

"Keep your shirt on, General MacArthur! I said I'll take care of it."  

I recognized that voice! Blair! I turned to him, but he was already heading into the station.  

"That's Dr. Sandburg. Don't let him fool you, Ellison," Banks remarked before I could call after him. "Blair might be young, but he's a damn fine scientist. And he's a good kid."  

My gut tightened. Had Sandburg been toying with me in Cascade? Had I just been someone to pass the time with until he returned to the man who held his heart?  

"Let's get this fucking Thing inside! I'm freezing my ass off!" Banks didn't notice my reaction. Fortunately, no one did. I would have been hard-pressed to explain my sudden antagonism.  

Once past the entrance to the building, the corridor angled down. We pushed and shoved the block of ice until it was over the threshold, and then wrestled it into the storeroom.  

Which had a fucking *outer* door. "You want to tell me why we had to drag this goddammed Thing through hell and gone, Banks, when there's a door right into this room that we could have used?"  

"We aren't into winter yet, Captain, but we've already had some significant snowfall. The access to that door is usually buried six months out of the year. Did you want to take the time to shovel out a path?"  

"Sorry."  

"Don't worry about it." It was obvious, to me at least, that Simon was accepting my apology as grudgingly as I had given it. "That Thing in the ice is making us all antsy."  

I turned on my heel, studying the storeroom. Sandburg was nowhere to be seen, and I could feel the relative warmth of the area. "Little bastard. What did he do, head for the hills when he realized there was honest work to be done?"  

Banks stared at me in shock. "What are you talking about?"  

"Sandburg. We don't have time to fuck around. If this Thing starts melting…"  

"Blair isn't a shirker. I don't know where you get off even insinuating that!"  

"Listen, Banks, I told him…"  

"Give the kid a fucking break!"  

"Problem, gentlemen?" It was Sandburg.  

"You were supposed to do something about the temperature in this room."  

"And so I shall." He crossed the room, his stride cocky, and with what looked like a crowbar in his hands, he broke the two windows. "Think that will be cold enough for you, Captain?"  

I wanted to wipe that condescending grin off his face. Who did the teasing little bastard think he was, toying with my affections like that? I had half a mind to sue him for the breach of promise his body had implied the other night.  

Abruptly his eyes grew huge, and a flush rose beneath the stubble that covered his cheeks. The crowbar fell to the concrete floor with a jarring clatter. I was stunned by his response. I could smell it, the scent of male arousal; hear it, the tiny hitch to his breathing; almost taste it.  

The beat of his heart was like Gene Krupa on drums, and my dick grew hard, and I shifted as unobtrusively as I could.  

"Jim!"  

"Chief." If he was that happy to see me, then there couldn't be anything between him and the head of security. Tension I hadn't realized was tightening the muscles at the base of my head, signaling a migraine, abruptly eased. And then another thought hit me. If he was so happy to see me, why hadn't he stayed with me? "Why'd you leave?"  

He blinked, and his eyes darted around the room, reminding me we weren't alone. "Can we talk about this later?"  

"Fine. But we will talk about it."

End Part B

To Part C