Chapter 6

Straker hid a yawn as he took his seat. The memory of last night's dream made him shiver. The incident had been a very close call, and he knew the small whippet had saved him in more ways than one. He scratched at his ankle again. The train picked up speed and he leaned back; not long now. An easy journey as well. Straight through to London and then the Metropolitan line to Uxbridge. He'd left the car at the station so it would be easier to drop into Headquarters first of all, before stopping at Doug's on the way home. His mobile buzzed. Damn. A possible sighting and he was stuck here, helpless. Nothing he could do about it but wait. He went into the toilet, away from eavesdroppers.

'Alec?'

Freeman wasted no time. 'One got past Moonbase. It's heading for the Channel. You might be the target, not sure yet.'

'Speed?'

'Slower than expected. Indications are it's either very large or heavily armed. Waiting for visual confirmation.'

'Carlin?'

'Yes. Any minute now. Look Ed…'

'I know.' Straker closed his eyes for a moment. 'I'll leave you to it. I'll come straight in but it'll be at least another couple of hours. Call me once it's over.'

He put the phone away, trying to retain some semblance of calm though the walls of the tiny cubicle seemed to be closing in on him. The destructive power of some UFOs was immense and he knew they could cause sufficient damage to crack through to the tunnel and either flood it or cause the roof to cave in. Neither prospect was pleasant. He went back to his seat, unable to settle, thinking dark thoughts and wondering if Calan would settle with Doug.

Jackson scooped the dog into his arms and hurried out to his car. Any approaching UFOs warranted his presence in headquarters where possible, and he was unwilling to leave the small hound. After all, these operations could take some hours and it was unfair to leave a dog alone for such a length of time. He drove with his usual efficiency, Calan huddling in the foot well, watching his every move. A short drive to the studios, quiet on Sundays, the stages closed and the offices empty.

Calan pattered alongside him, tail wagging as they entered Reception and headed for the personnel elevator.

His Psychoanalytical Section was already in action, monitoring all aspects of the operation. A complex task, but Jackson found that it paid dividends later when crewmen arrived for de-briefing. Prior awareness of incidents led to better analysis and treatment, and, since implementing the measures, the overall efficiency of his department had increased noticeably, as had the evaluation and management of stress among operatives. Jackson was in the process of writing a thesis on the topic during his lunch breaks. He noted a somewhat unusual air of concern in the room as he entered, and he took a moment to peruse the details before frowning.

UFOs over the English Channel, and Straker in the Eurostar. No wonder the atmosphere was edgy. A UFO of sufficient power and size could submerge itself under the water and then blast through the bedrock. Even if it did not hit the train directly, the consequences would be horrific.

Jackson immersed himself in the activity, allowing his senses to touch on everything that was going on around, becoming aware of subtle changes in the responses to this most serious of incidents. They were fractional differences to be honest, but sufficient to merit an additional chapter in his thesis. Perhaps it was simply a matter of respect, or even deference, or maybe something more. Those little things; the pilot of Sky One handling the task with considerable composure yet determination, the quick and urgent voice of the communication officer, Alec Freeman's barked orders obeyed in an instant. Interesting and at the same time, predictable.

There was nothing Jackson could do but observe the proceedings and prepare himself for the Commander's mandatory debriefing later on, although if things... He dismissed the unpleasant thought as both redundant and also most inappropriate. But a recurrence of the Commander's claustrophobia was a distinct possibility, necessitating further counselling, and bringing Calan along today was proving to be shrewd decision. He would make every effort to ensure Straker spent time with the dog before being debriefed.

Jackson prowled his own control room, attention fixed on the events while Calan, bored with the lack of attention, scratched an itch and then pattered out of the room unnoticed. There was a hint of a familiar smell outside the room and the hound followed it, claws clattering on the hard floor and stopping every so often to sniff. The scent got stronger, and, his tail wagging with anticipation, the little whippet scampered down unfamiliar passageways, unseen, heading for the source.

Another trip to the toilet, other passengers watching him with amused interest, another quiet conversation, and an easing of the tight band clamped around his chest. He could breathe now, and the small cubicle seemed much larger, the train more spacious, his fears irrational.

'Give Carlin my thanks. Any wreckage left?' Straker's voice was clear, no hint of his earlier nervousness.

'Still searching. No chance of any survivors though.'

'Pity. Anyway, thanks for letting me know Alec. I'll be in before you leave today, so we can go though the details together.'

'Sure. I'll pass your message on to Peter.'

The rest of the journey was undisturbed by phone messages, or worries. The train emerged into the brightness of the countryside, picking up speed as it headed for London, for home, and Straker relaxed at last.

'Well where the hell has he got to?' Freeman's voice was quiet with anger. 'Dammit Jackson, how hard is it to look after a dog?'

'Believe me Colonel, I am aware that I may have been somewhat remiss in my duties, but the dog cannot have got far. I have checked the entire medical area, I now need your authorisation for a more intensive search of headquarters.'

Freeman grimaced. 'Straker's on his way. Should arrive in about twenty minutes.'

'Then I suggest, Colonel, you help me find the dog. And before the Commander gets back.'

Freeman turned round. 'Ford. Have you seen Calan? Anyone?' He addressed the Control room staff.

Ford spun round on his chair 'No Colonel. No sign of him. Didn't even know he was here today. Do you need me to organise a search?'

'Better had do. I just hope he hasn't found his way up top.' Freeman grimaced. 'Alert studio security as well. Just in case.' He looked over at the closed door to Straker's office. 'Twenty minutes. Get that dog found.'

Straker pulled up at the gatehouse, frowning. Level three security? He dug his pass out, signed his name, took the retinal scan then waited, fingers tapping on the wheel as the guard scrutinised the results with agonising slowness.

'Commander.' The card handed back, a quick nod of acknowledgment, and Straker was free to leave. He could see other security teams patrolling the grounds, an unusual sight during the day. A problem with the studios? He frowned, tempted to stop and investigate, but he would check in with HQ first.

More security in the entrance lobby, opening doors, searching in corners. They paused as he walked in as if he had caught them playing games. 'Lockhart?' He spotted the chief.

'Sir.' A non-committal response.

'Problems?'

'Sir. No. Colonel Freeman ordered...' Lockhart paused. '... a training drill sir. Search for an escaped alien.'

Straker raised an eyebrow. 'A very small alien?' He gestured at the reception desk where one of the team was peering into the footwell.

'The Colonel said to investigate every eventuality. Sir.'

The silence was uncomfortable. Alec would explain it, later. He looked around, watching the team working with the efficiency he expected from someone of Lockhart's experience.

'Carry on then.'

Blue-clad guards moved through the passageways, investigating every area. Alec was making it a serious exercise then. He stood back and let them hurry past before continuing on his way. Jackson was in the Control room, talking to Alec, no doubt discussing efficiency readings

'Alec. Jackson,' Straker greeted them. 'Security drill, Lockhart said. Problems? Anything I should know about?'

'Not really Commander. We are just…. ' Jackson looked at Freeman in some desperation.

Alec stepped forward. 'Nothing to worry about. I've got the data reports here.' Freeman handed over the file. 'I'll be through in a minute. Just .. finishing off here. Won't be a moment.'

There was a moment of tension, as if everyone was waiting for Straker's response. He took the file, a little bemused by the eyes watching him, the slight tension in the room as if everyone was waiting for him to say something.

'Current status?'

Another pause, a quick glance between the other two.

'All clear. Nothing to report.' Alec coughed. 'I'll bring coffee?'

Straker tossed the file onto a console. 'So. Time for the truth.' He looked at Alec. 'What's going on? Security drills, guards everywhere. You'd better tell me what's happened.'

He cancelled the search, calling it a 'misuse of personnel' and against regulations. There was no need for it anyway, the dog was sensible enough to find its own way back he assured Jackson, before picking up the folder again and leafing through it, glancing up every so often to see if there was any sign of Calan appearing in the room. Nothing. He gave up trying to make sense of the document. Probably too tired to concentrate, he reasoned to himself. He could see Keith Ford flicking through the security cameras, no doubt doing his own unauthorised searching. As long as it did not intrude on work, he wouldn't stop Keith. It was a nuisance really. Calan was still unfamiliar with the layout of some areas and perhaps he'd found his way down to the lower levels.

Someone would find him. Soon.

He took the file through to his office, perhaps he could focus better out of the way, somewhere quiet. The door opened as he breached the motion sensor and there was a blur of movement as the folder was knocked out of his hands.

Calan had followed the faint scent, whimpering as he skittered round the final corner. That unmistakable scent. A hand on his back, ruffling through fur, the familiarity of the desk, and somewhere to rest his head. Nearly there. 'He' would be waiting behind that desk, and maybe there would be a scrap of toast, and a rub of the ears and soft words. The closed door was no obstruction - he knew the trick by now - and he leapt up, his nose almost touching the panel of the door. It slid open and he ran in to an empty room, the shock enough to make him shiver. He crept round the perimeter, sniffing, jumping up to rest his front paws, a forbidden action, on the chairs. No one. In the end, he crawled under the desk, curling up in silence, ears pricked, listening in vain for a familiar voice.

Then in the distance, he heard familiar footsteps, and with a flash he was at the door, leaping up, heedless of obeying the rules for once, or a stern voice telling him to behave.

'Ah. That's where you'd got to. I was...' Straker didn't finish the sentence. There was no need. He held the small body as a tongue licked his face and the long tail lashed him as if they had been apart for weeks. It took a few minutes for the small creature to relax, and even then, Straker could feel occasional tremors shaking the little body. He closed the door and sat, the dog on his lap, heedless of the short hairs covering his trousers, of the wet tongue licking his hands now, of the tail still thrashing.

He thought about the nightmare in the hotel and the trepidation of his journey back, of the changes in his life since Calan had been foisted on him. No, not foisted. He could have refused, but Jackson had forced him, or perhaps it was more truthful to say that Jackson had given him a valid reason to take the dog. He leaned forward to the intercom. 'Ford, tell Dr Jackson that he can stop worrying. The runaway has turned up.'

The door opened. He looked up. 'Alec.' Straker continued stroking his companion.

'You've found him? How did he get in? The door was closed.'

'He must have worked out how to open it. I'll finish this report and speak to Doug before I go home.' Straker tweaked one long soft ear and Calan, wriggling with delight, slipped from his lap to lie in his usual place. The tail thumped a couple of times on the floor and Straker smiled as a weight settled on his ankles. It was still early. Jackson could join him for a walk later and de-brief him at the same time.

Straker opened his bedroom window and stretched. The weather had broken in the afternoon with a freshening breeze and the routine walk in the studio grounds had been longer than planned, not that he, or Calan for that matter, were bothered. The debrief was soon over, a few perfunctory questions about the journey and Jackson's final 'I am available, as always, should you require assistance.' Straker had nodded and then whistled for Calan. Claustrophobia was always there, lurking in the darkness and waiting, like the aliens, to catch him at his most vulnerable. Calan was off hunting monsters in the undergrowth and Jackson was watching the small creature and looking somewhat regretful.

Now his bed was waiting. A long weekend and he was glad to be back. He could hear paws pattering up the stairs and he lay down and picked up his book. There was a thump at the end of the bed, a warm nose against his neck, a long huff of contentment and Straker put the book down, unread, settled himself and fell asleep.

Jackson lay in his bed, his evening routine completed, the latest chapter of the publication read. He composed himself for sleep. And sighed.

LtCdr. Dec 2012