FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The following is a work of fiction copyright Radical Gopher. All characters depected within this story are adults, over the age of 18. Use or duplication of these characters or story without permission is forbidden.

________________________________________________________________________________________________

VANDALS AT THE GATE - Chapter - 1

The moving van pulled up in front of the address and ground to a stop, exhaust from its tailpipe puffing into the cold, afternoon air.

"Hey, Clyde... are you sure THIS is where we're suppose to drop the stuff off?"

The short, stocky driver looked over at his younger, more muscular partner. "Yeah, this is the place," he said, pushing his baseball cap back from his forehead. "1221 Sutter Street." He pointed to a small painted address on the curbside. "It's even marked."

"I don't know. Something feels awfully screwy about this delivery," Henry replied. "I mean... look."

Clydelooked out of the truck window at the empty lot nestled between a pair of older, single-family bungalows. He shrugged. "So... I've delivered to stranger places than this. You will too if you stay on this job any length of time." He switched off the engine, popped the door open and quickly scrambled out of the truck.

"Come on. This is our last load of the day. Let's dump it and go home." So saying, the two men removed half a dozen crates from the back of the truck, planted them in the middle of the lot then drove off into the sunset. They weren't overly worried about the boxes. The delivery instructions stated that no signed receipt of goods was necessary and that the buyer took full responsibility for the disposition and safety of the goods.

Had either man bothered to look back, they would have seen the crates begin glowing with a pale blue light; seconds before lifting themselves into the night air and vanishing like a mist on the wind.

* * * *

"You know," complained Caitlin Sawyer, "sometimes I get the distinct impression that you aren't listening to a word I'm saying."

The heavyset man looked up from his cup of coffee into the intense blue eyes of the much younger raven-haired woman. "If there's anyone in this office who isn't listening, 'Cat', it's you. The story's dead. Capital D...E...A...D!"

"But I'm so close. All it's going to take is enough money to charter a helicopter and pilot and we'll have the biggest scoop of the year!"

"What about that geologist and his ground penetrating sonar. His services alone will cost five grand a day, and you want to hire him for three days." He turned and picked up a stack of bills. "So far, your scoop of the century's cost this magazine about 25 grand. I don't know if you've noticed but old style print media like ours is going the way of the dodo. McKendrick was in here just this morning talking about taking the whole operation online. We're looking at rebuilding our entire readership base, and that will take time... and money."

"The chopper won't cost all that much; just the price of a flight out and a flight back. As for the geologist, I talked him down to three grand a day.

"How'd you manage that?"

The reporter sat fetchingly on the edge of the desk and leaned over. "Guess," she replied in a very sultry voice. Her pose was definitely intended to show off her best assets; Long legs, trim figure, nicely shaped and toned posterior.

The editor winced. "Forget what I said... I don't want to know!" He pushed back from the desk and walked over to a window, pulling open the slotted blinds and looking out on the city. He loosened his tie and tugged his shirt collar open. He stood silently for a moment then looked back at the reporter. "You realize that if I approve this, you have to come back with something concrete we can use. Not just another lead, but a solid story we can run with. If you don't McKendrick will have your ass, and probably mine too. I don't know about you, but I'm too damned old to go looking for another job."

"I promise on a stack of bibles you'll have a story by the end of the week if you do this."

"That from someone who hasn't gone to church for three years," the editor grumbled. He paused again. "Hundreds of more experienced reporters on this story from news organizations with more money than Bill Gates and they've all come up with zip. What gives you the edge?"

"Pluck... Stubbornness... and an inside the government source," she replied.

"What source?"

She shook her head. "Sorry, but I promised confidentiality."

"Yeah... Well, what if I told you I want that source before I go one step further on this," the editor said.

The reporter grimaced for a moment then sighed. "Then I guess the story really is dead."

He turned and looked at her, noting the disappointment in her eyes. His mouth twisted into a crooked smile. "Good answer," he said quietly. He picked up the phone "Alice? Call disbursing and have them cut a voucher for twelve K, and have them draw it from discretionary funds."

The editor hung up the phone just as the woman wrapped her arms around him in a big hug and kissed him on the cheek. "Thank-you, daddy!"

He glanced outside and noticed several workers were looking up from their desks watching him through the glass partition that separated his office from the office floor. "'Cat'...for gawd's sake, not in front of the staff!" She let go of him and he straightened his tie, glaring out at the office staff. Miraculously, everyone found something else to focus on other than the editor.

"Seriously 'Cat'," he said. "Daughter or not, if you draw a blank, you're off this rag!"

She smiled at him coquettishly as she opened the door. "Then I guess I'll just have to bring back that scoop."

* * * *

"So... how does it look?" Bob asked, taking a step or two back to stand beside the young, red-haired woman.

Jillian crossed her arms and tilted her head slightly. The angular, contemporary furniture was nice enough on its own, but it clashed slightly with the more organic shape of the room with its rounded corners and sloping, vaulted ceiling. "I'm not sure. I mean, yes... the furniture's alright and I can smell the pine scent, but will it be sturdy enough?"

"It should be. I put all manner of stays and reinforcements on the wood, so unless she tries to use the bed like a... What's the word?"

"Trampoline"

"Yes... a tramp-a-lean, then it should be sturdy enough."

"Mahogany would have been better."

"Maybe," Bob replied, "but it has no scent. The pine at least smells like one of the native woods we had on the world ship, even if the color is wrong."

Jillian looked up at the Kerachaw. The alien stood nearly seven and a half feet in height, not counting his horse-like ears, and was covered in a fine, almost silky white fur from his mane to his hard, black hooves. His torso was similar to that of a human with broad shoulders and thick arms that tapered down to a pair of three-fingered hands. His head, proportional to his body, was that of an equine with finely chiseled features and a slightly shorter muzzle than would have been found on a earth-bound horse. His legs were digigrade, and much thicker than a normal equine's, each ending in a solid looking cloven hoof. At present he was wearing a comfortable pair of shorts and something like a workman's vest, festooned with alien looking tools.

"You think the scent is that important?" Jillian asked

"It is," the alien responded. "The girl is going to be disoriented enough, having spent over a year in stasis. She'll need as many familiar things around her as we can provide. Remember, when she was placed in the suspension tube she was one of a half-dozen refugees. Now they're all dead and she may well be the only surviving female Kerachaw..."

Bob's voice faded briefly for a moment. Jillian could sense the depth of his sadness in that brief moment of silence.

"It's a lot for an adult to grasp, even among telepaths. For a youth barely passed her childhood... we're going to have to be particularly empathic." Bob silently looked around the room. "You're right," he said glancing at Jillian. "The furniture is much too angular for such a space. Not to worry. I can easily round off the edges so it will blend in better."

"Are you reading my mind?" the woman chided him.

"No... at least not on purpose," Bob replied casually.

"You're a telepath; a very powerful one for heaven's sake," Jillian replied. "How could you possibly read my mind accidentally?"

The Kerachaw chuckled. "Well, to be honest when you fixate on something you really feel strongly about, like balance and harmony and such, you tend to... leak."

"Leak?"

"Uh-huh. Like now... if you didn't like animals so much, you're first choice as a career would have been interior decorating, not veterinary medicine."

Jillian responded by sticking her tongue out playfully at the alien.

"You know, this does bring something else to mind," Bob said.

"What?"

"I think I'm going to have to make some kind of telepathic inhibitor for you before we wake the girl up."

"What on Earth for?"

"Well, she's never met humans before. You're thought patterns might confuse her."

"Oh really...And how would you know that?" Jillian asked.

Bob smiled. "Because they frequently confuse me... and I'm use to it."

Jillian started to reply but was interrupted by a persistent buzzing sound that came from the main hanger. Excusing himself, the Kerachaw strode across the hanger floor and climbed a set of steps leading to a control platform. Flipping several switches he cut off the alarm and scanned the status display. Jillian came up behind him and watched quietly before speaking.

"What's going on now?"

"There's been a rather severe earthquake off the coast of Greece. Causalities are fairly light and damage is minimal, however the new power plant near Athens has lost both primary and back-up power."

"That's the nuclear plant, isn't it?" asked Jillian.

The alien nodded. "They lost power to their cooling system and can't shut down the reactor. The core is in danger of melting down. They're making preparations to evacuate everyone within a fifty mile radius."

"Is there anything that can be done?"

"There's something I can do," Bob responded. He rose from the console and went over to his ship. He disappeared inside for several moments then came out carrying a hexagonal shaped box. He returned to his seat and pulled up a schematic of his ship. Studying it, he carefully flipped a number of switches on the panel in front of him. The lights in the hanger dimmed momentarily then came back to full strength.

"What just happened?" asked Jillian

"I'm taking the ship's reactor off line and shutting it down. We are now running everything off the ship's batteries."

"How long will they last?"

"Six to eight months, depending on how much power we use," Bob replied. "More than enough time for me to build a new core suppressor. I'd build one right now except it would take me about two weeks of solid work. By the time it was ready they'd have a full-on disaster, so I'll use this and re-build what I need later."

Jillian looked at the relatively small device. "This will shut down their run-away reactor?"

"That's what I'm hoping. Once I hook it to the containment chamber it will neutralize the nuclear reaction by converting the core material into an inert compound." He strode over to an upright locker and opened it, placing his vest inside and removing the clothing and equipment he wore whenever he left the base.

"Look, I may only be a citified horse-doctor, but I do understand something about physics," said Jillian "Direct matter conversion on this kind of scale just doesn't seem possible."

"I was always taught that nothing's impossible... just difficult," replied Bob, smiling as he finished preparing himself.

Jillian looked at him, lines of worry framing her eyes. "Will your shielding hold up against all that radiation?"

"I'll use both my shielding and armor just to be on the safe side," he replied. Going down on one knee he hugged the frightened human tightly then planted a long kiss on her lips. He could sense her fear easing a little as he gently pulled back and stood, picking up the core suppressor. He then removed his flying disc from a pocket in his robe and tossed in front of him. It grew to about five feet in diameter and floated six inches off the floor. He planted his hooves on the disc and it began gliding forward, up and out through the hangar's access door, which shut behind him.

Jillian took a seat at the console and turned into the BBC news service, anxiously watching the situation unfold. It would take Bob about two hours to reach Greece. Despite the Kerachaw's reassurances and confidence, she found herself saying a small prayer for him.

* * * *

'Cat' Sawyer looked out the cockpit window of the helicopter and pointed. "There it is! Dead ahead," she said excitedly.

"I can see it," the pilot replied. "I still don't know if I like this. The lighthouse-landing platform is restricted access. If we get caught, I could have my ticket pulled at the very least, not to mention the heavy fine I'd have to pay."

"Well, that's why you're flying low and under the radar, isn't it? You told me it would be a piece of cake when I hired you."

"No... my partner said that, just before he tripped and broke his ankle. I wasn't part of your negotiations; and I never would have agreed to fly you out here if he hadn't already spent the money you paid him."

"That just means you're honest," 'Cat' said, smiling at him.

"That... or a damned fool. At least the lighthouse is automated, so no one will see us touch down. When we do, I want you and your crew off the chopper with your gear in five minutes. After that, I'm outta here."

"Just remember, you come back to pick us up in three days... got it?"

The pilot nodded. "You have my word. Make sure you're ready to go no later than fifteen hundred on Thursday. I will not wait for you to show up or collect your gear... understand."

'Cat' scowled and nodded her head. "Understood... Three PM on Thursday." She looked down. The UH-1 was flying about a hundred feet off the water, kicking up a lot of spray as a result. When it slowed for touchdown a good part of the spray blew back into the open doors of the passenger compartment, dampening her two compatriots and their equipment. Fortunately, thanks to the pilot's foresight, most of it was wrapped in waterproof tarps.

The nose of the Huey rose sharply then leveled out and set down on a small helicopter platform. Next to it was a rectangular blockhouse and an even narrower rectangular tower with a beacon light mounted atop it.

The pilot throttled down carefully, watching to see if the platform could take the helo's weight. When everything looked good he idled the engine so the rotor was spinning slowly. "Okay," he yelled, "five minutes!"

"Aren't you going to help?" asked 'Cat'.

"Sorry lady... I'm only the driver, not the stevedore."

Grumbling, the raven-haired reporter unbuckled herself and clambered into the back. The other two were already unloading bundles from the chopper. It took them less than two minutes before all their packages were sitting on the landing platform. The pilot yelled for them to clear the packages away from the aircraft, which they did.

"Remember, Thursday, 1500!" the pilot called out one last time as the rotors began spinning faster. Within seconds the chopper had lifted away and was scooting off towards the distant, invisible coastline.

Teddy Bracken, her photographer, immediately fished out his camera and began taking digital snapshots of the lighthouse and the small island. At five foot seven he was shorter than 'Cat' by a good three inches. He was slim and wiry, had dark hair and an infectious smile that made him a pleasure to work with. The magazine had only recently hired the 26-year-old after he'd spent three years working free-lance for a travel journal. The pay hadn't been great, but it did give him a chance to travel places he never would have dreamed of going.

'Cat''s other "partner" was a 41-year-old system operator named Dan Obermann. His blonde hair had thinned out at an early age so he compensated by growing a thick mustache and beard. He was reasonably fit, thanks to a lot of outdoor activity and professional fieldwork, and stood about 5 foot 11. He was stubborn and grumbled a lot, but so far seemed to be a good person to have where physical labor was needed.

"Okay," said Teddy, "first decision. Where do you want to set up camp?"

'Cat' pointed toward the old blockhouse structure. "Let's check that out first. If we can use it, there'll be less chance a passing ship might spot us illegally clambering around a nature preserve."

"Nature preserve?" asked Dan.

"Sure... Can't you hear them?"

He paused for a moment then notices animal sounds that rose above the crash of waves against the island's rocky shoreline. Walking to the edge of the platform he looked down. "Seals?"

"And sea lions," she added. "They often stop here on their migration up and down the west coast. Let's check out the bunker." The three 'explorers moved over towards the cement structure.

"Great, so not only do we get to piss off the EPA and, if you're right, a large, scary alien life-form, but the National Wildlife Foundation as well."

"Don't forget the Coast Guard," chuckled Teddy. "The lighthouse belongs to them."

Dan looked at the slightly dilapidated structure. "They don't take very good care of their toys now, do they?"

'Cat' pulled on the heavy steel door that led into the building. To everyone's surprise, it opened with relative ease.

"Guess they don't believe in locks," commented Teddy.

"The whole operation here is automated," said the reporter. "They only use the building to house support equipment for the beacon. I wouldn't be surprised if they keep it unlocked as an emergency shelter for shipwrecked sailors who make it ashore here." She took out a flashlight and panned it around the interior of the darkened structure.

There was no furniture to speak of save for a large upright steel locker labeled Emergency Use Only. Next to it was a dust covered red telephone, similar to the kind found along most urban freeways. A thin coating of dust lay across the floor, cabinet and phone. The few windows had been boarded up so no light penetrated the room. As the flashlight played around the room a light switch came into view. Reaching over, 'Cat' flipped it on. The room was immediately bathed in a bright florescent light.

"How the heck would they have power out here?" asked Teddy.

"Underwater cable running from the mainland to the island," Dan replied. "After all, what use is a lighthouse without electricity?"

"I think this decides it," said 'Cat'. "We set up camp in here."

"Fine with me," said Obermann. "Whatever else we do though, no one, under any circumstances, touches that phone."

"Why not?" asked Teddy.

"It's probably hooked directly into the Coast Guard's Rescue Center. We use it and they'll know we're out here."

"Alright then, let's forget the phone and go get our gear," said 'Cat'.

* * * *

Jillian smiled at the incredulity reflected in the face of the BBC reporter as he spoke into the microphone. It was the middle of the night in Greeceand the lighting from the camera made his face look almost ghostlike.

"... And according to unofficial government sources, the radiation levels in and around the AthensNuclear Station have dropped to nearly zero. These same sources reported .the entire reactor containment vessel has been converted into a non-radioactive silicate. How this was accomplished is unknown. Numerous witnesses however have reported seeing the alien, often referred to as the Outlander, enter the facility shortly before the abrupt fall in radiation readings."

Rising from the console, the red-haired woman walked across the hangar floor and entered the living quarters. She went into the kitchen and started preparing a light dinner for herself and Bob. The Kerachaw was often hungry after expending a large amount of energy. She chuckled, thinking of how domestic she had become since falling in love with the alien.

She looked around appreciatively at the modern convinces he'd installed. Before her arrival the Kerachaw had lived onboard his small scout-ship. In the past year he had used a combination of his ship's equipment and his own powers to carve out a small apartment complex in the mountainside encompassing the underground hangar. At present it consisted of a dining area, a large living room, a kitchen facility an extremely large bathroom and three large, ancillary rooms. These were currently being used as bedrooms; one for her, one for him and most recently, one for the young female Kerachaw who would soon be coming out of her stasis tube.

As she finished, she heard a double chime coming from the hanger. She carefully placed the food on the table then went out to greet Bob. Jillian found the Kerachaw sitting tiredly on the steps leading from the command platform to the hangar floor. He was hunched over holding his left arm. The silver, nanite armor he occasionally wore was dull, and that portion of it encasing his left arm and shoulder looked as if it had been carbonized.

She ran across to him and lifted his head so he was looking at her. "What happened?" she asked, a tinge of panic in her voice.

Bob used the stair railing to pull himself to his hooves. Instead of being reabsorbed by his body, the nanite armor sloughed off him to form a quicksilver like pool on the floor. Most of the fur on his left arm came off as well, leaving it bare from his fingertips to his shoulder. The skin underneath looked sunburned with blisters and more than a few third degree burns. "Please don't worry," he said, looking at Jillian. "All I need is some time in my medical chamber and I'll be alright."

Despite his larger size Jillian tucked herself under his right arm and helped guide him toward his ship. He did not resist her efforts, which worried the human.

Responding to his presence the ship's hatch opened and a set of steps formed allowing both of them to enter. Jillian guided him over to an alcove in the main cabin. A tubular shaped bed unfolded itself from the bulkhead and he sat tiredly on the edge of it. Jillian helped Bob remove his outer clothing, stripping him down to his bare fur. He frequently grimaced in pain but said nothing. Small tufts of fur continued to come off him as she worked. Nervously, she asked the Kerachaw again what had happened.

"In order to get the core suppressor to work I had to open up the containment chamber and attach it directly to the reactor. The layout required I use my left hand. Unfortunately, the exposure time was a bit longer than I anticipated and I took a larger dose of radiation than my protective field and suit could withstand."

"How much of a dose did you take?"

He nickered softly, the way he often did when he laughed. "Let's just say it's a good thing I'm a Kerachaw and not a Human and leave it at that."

He attached metallic cuffs to both his wrists and arms before lying down, grimacing one final time against the pain. There was a soft warning beep, and then a transparent cover snapped closed over the chamber, sealing in the alien. As Jillian watched several beams of light ran themselves up and down his body. A display appeared on the cover that could be read from both within and without the chamber. This was followed by a series of mechanical injectors and probes that began slowly working their way across Bob's arm.

"Are you okay in there?" Jillian asked. "How do you feel?"

"Well, now that the pain killers are taking effect, pretty good,"_he thought aloud, using his telepathy to continue the conversation. _"The medical system's already pumping me full of an enhanced nanite solution, so I may not be able to stay awake much longer."

"I'll have breakfast waiting for you when you wake up."

Bob smiled. "Better make it lunch, and please, do not worry. Everything WILL be alright"

She watched as a thick, white mist filled the tube, fogging the inside of the cover. A single finger reached up and wrote the words "Luv U," before dropping out of sight. Bob's thoughts faded, as did his awareness of the world.

Jillian sat on the deck next to the medical chamber for several minutes, her hand planted firmly against the cover as she fought back tears. This was the third time since she had known the Kerachaw that he had been physically hurt. As hard as he tried to downplay his injuries, he was not some kind of invulnerable superman. She wondered how many times before he'd been hurt while helping others.

He'd taken on the role of mankind's 'guardian angel' as a survival mechanism; a way of giving himself purpose after being unable to save his own people. No one had demanded this of him; no one forced him to help. He did it because despite all of their weaknesses and faults, he cared about humanity. She wished her fellow humans could truly appreciate his efforts and his sacrifices.

Jillian sat next to the medical chamber the rest of the afternoon and all night, patiently waiting for Bob to wake from his healing sleep. She never heard the insistent chimes or saw the flashing light on the hangar control console warning of an intrusion onto the island.

* * * *

The blockhouse had two levels, not counting the tower up to the beacon. Once they moved their supplies into the upper level Caitlin insisted on exploring the next level down. It was basically divided into four rooms. The first looked like a small kitchen, the second a lounge, the third a barracks style room and the fourth a lavatory. There was no furniture save for a couple of metal cots, minus mattresses. There were no appliances in the kitchen and the lavatory was functional, though it obviously hadn't been used nor cleaned in a long time. Along the back wall of the lounge area was a door marked supplies. When Dan looked inside he found a variety of hooks, a single overhead light bulb, and nothing else, not even an old mop or bucket.

"They must have kept their cleaning gear in here," the technician observed. He stepped out of the closet and closed the door.

"So, how should we proceed?" asked Caitlin.

"Come morning, I want to get some comparative soundings around the blockhouse, then move the gear up to the top of the island and do a direct penetration scan."

"It won't work," the reporter said.

"Why not?"

"According to my source, the military did a ground penetration survey from space of every potential area along the Pacific coast. The results were negative."

"So nothing's here?" asked Teddy

'Cat' shook her head. "Not necessarily. It's not difficult to screen something from orbit, if you know what you're doing."

"Then how would you suggest I proceed?" asked Dan

"What I'd like to do is get some side scans and up shots of the rock face. If something is there, it may not be shielded against close in sonar searches."

"All right... but that means I'll have to recalibrate my gear," the technician said. "A side scan isn't like a straight up and down shot."

"Do what you have to," 'Cat' replied, "but please make sure we get some clear images of what may be hidden here." She watched as Dan removed the lid from one of his instrument packages and began adjusting dials.

"So why exactly are we here?" asked Teddy. "This looks like it might be another dead end. I mean if the military already checked these sites out, what make you think he'd be anywhere around here?"

"Well... my source told me THEY never did any close in scans of likely target sites. This place was one of the top ten on their list and they'd intended to follow through, but then funding was eliminated and their whole organization was shut down."

"Whoa... Whoa.... Wait a second," said Teddy. "Who did this source of yours worked for?"

"Well," Caitlin replied, "let's just say it wasn't Homeland Security."

The photographer's voice dropped to a near whisper. "'Cat'... this source of yours... he wasn't part of the Directory, was he?"

"Well, even if he was... and I'm not saying he was, I wouldn't tell you, would I?"

Teddy rubbed his hand across his face. "Geez, 'Cat'... what are you doing. These Directory guys are so hot they're nuclear. I mean you could wind up in an interrogation cell just for living in the same apartment building as one, let alone what could happen if anyone knew you were talking to one of them."

Caitlin smiled. "I wouldn't worry about it. I've got my bases covered."

Teddy remained silent for a moment or two then shook his head. "I'm liking this less and less. I just hope you really know what you're doing, 'Cat'."

The three of them turned in early and rose about five A.M. After a quick breakfast of cereal bars and coffee, Dan and Teddy set up the scanning gear next to the blockhouse. They took three readings each at four separate locations around the building with Dan adjusting and calibrating the equipment after each sonar "shot." When he finished he set up the video feed and ran the data collected through the monitor.

The first three locations revealed nothing more than bedrock. The fourth however indicated a hollow area just beneath the lower level of the blockhouse. Excitedly, Dan wrote down the grid measurements and began making some calculations. 'Cat' watched tensely over his shoulder while Teddy busied himself snapping some photographs of their search.

"If my calculations are correct, there appears to be an underground passage about twenty feet under the blockhouse."

"Could it have been part of the original construction?" asked 'Cat'.

"Maybe," the technician said. "I understand the structure here was built during the Cold War, so it might be part of a bomb shelter. The tunnel appears to be about ten feet wide and ten high."

"Sounds pretty big for a bomb shelter access," Teddy observed.

"That would depend on what you're trying to protect," said 'Cat'.

Dan looked at the others. "This is interesting."

"What?" said the reporters in unison.

"Well, I overlaid a grid coordinate system across the whole island. If my readings are correct, that passage ends directly under the storage closet on the second level. You might want..."

Before he could finish 'Cat' and Teddy had both grabbed their flashlights and were heading for the blockhouse. By the time Dan had caught up with them they were on their hands and knees examining the maintenance closet floor.

"What are you doing?" the technician asked.

"We're looking for some kind of trap door or access panel," 'Cat' responded. She carefully moved her hands around the floor. It was absolutely seamless.

"Amateurs," muttered Dan. "Here, stand up and watch me." When they were clear of the floor he took out his canteen, unscrewed the cap and poured some of its contents around the floor. They watched as some of the water pooled in little patches across the floor and next to the baseboard, however along one edge the water actually seemed to drain away into the wall.

"Neat trick," said 'Cat'.

"Yeah. I learned that one on an Egyptian archeological project a dozen years ago."

"So the whole floor slides away?" asked Teddy.

"Looks like it. What we're probably looking at here are some hidden switches."

"How many and what kind?"

"Access triggers, probably three of them," Dan replied. "One for open, one for close, and one for lock. The other two won't work unless you disengage the locking switch to activate the mechanism."

Reaching over 'Cat' flipped on the light switch so they could examine the closet. Mounting brackets and hooks lined the walls like a silent rank of soldiers waiting for the tools that should be hanging from them. Teddy reached up for the first hook and tugged on it. It was solidly mounted to the wall. Reaching for the second he was suddenly stopped by a hand on his wrist. 'Cat' looked at him.

"I think there's a better way," she said. "Go upstairs and get my make-up kit out of my pack, would you." Teddy nodded and left. He returned a few minutes later with a compact theatrical make up kit.

"What's that for?" asked Dan.

"Normally I use it if I have to appear on camera." She smiled at him. "Now it's your turn to watch and learn." She took out a small compact that contained powdered rouge. Taking her brush, she dusted each of the hooks. She worked her way around the closet until she found two that had fingerprint marks on them. Tentavily, she reached up and pulled on one of the hooks. There was a soft click and it moved outward about an inch before stopping. Nothing else happened. She tried the other with the same result. None of the other hooks moved even in the slightest.

"Well, neither of those was the locking release," observed Teddy.

"I don't see anything else that fits the bill," said Dan. "It's obviously hidden." He began feeling around the walls, tapping at them, but could find no hidden switches.

"Okay, let's think this through logically," said 'Cat'. "You want the locking mechanism to be hard to uncover, but easy to use. Where would you put it?"

"Well, the easiest thing to use is the light switch," said Teddy. "But that can't be it. The light's on but neither of the hooks worked."

"Maybe... " 'Cat' muttered. Without a word she reached over and flicked off the light, then reached up and pulled on first one, then the other hook. When that didn't work, she tried pulling on both simultaneously. Still nothing. She turned the light back on and tried again with no result.

"This thing's starting to tick me off."

"Wait a second," said Dan. "We're all making a fundamental mistake here. Who, in their right mind would stand ON a trap door and pull the release mechanism for it?"

"Willy E. Coyote?" quipped Teddy.

"Quick, everyone outside," ordered 'Cat'. When they were all standing outside the closet she carefully reached in and pulled on the nearest of the two hidden switches. Still nothing happened.

"Okay... Now let's try something illogical. She herded everyone into the closet, closed the door and turned off the light."

"Last time I did this was with a girl was back in college," said Teddy, turning on his flashlight. 'Cat' ignored him and reached up, pulling on both hooks at the same time. Nothing happened. She then turned on the light and pulled the hooks again. There was a very loud click as the closet door automatically locked itself and the floor began to silently sink into the ground.

"Eureka!" shouted the reporter.

It took the 'elevator platform' about thirty seconds to descend to the bottom of the hidden shaft. When it came to a stop the trio found themselves looking down a dimly lit corridor. Dust and cobwebs filled the area.

"Okay, I am officially worried now," said Teddy. "Did anyone think to bring any of our gear along with us?"

"He has a point," Dan responded. "We need to get our equipment down here so we can document all this." He looked around the base of the shaft. "There should be some kind of controls here for raising the elevator..."

"You mean these?" asked 'Cat' pointing to a recessed panel on one wall. They looked. Sure enough there was a button flush with the shaft wall so it wouldn't interfere with the elevator platform. It was easily distinguished as to function with as arrow pointing up.

"Obviously, no need to hide the access controls down here," said Teddy. He reached over and firmly pressed the 'up' arrow. The platform immediately responded and lifted them back up to the closet level. When it stopped, there was a solid click and the closet door unlocked itself.

"All right everyone, lets get topside and collect what we need," ordered 'Cat'. "We're going spelunking."

* * * *

Jillian woke to find herself sitting on the deck next to Bob's medical chamber. It wan an uncomfortable position at best and her back felt stiff. This, combined with her anxiety over his health, had not lent itself to a restful sleep. The ship was not rigged to respond to anyone except the Kerachaw, so she had not been able to persuade it to provide her with a chair. She stood, feeling exhausted and hungry. Examining the medical chamber she could see the burns were gone and fur was slowly growing back along his arm. Bob's eyes were closed and a soft blue glow emanated from the center of his forehead. He was deep in his healing sleep and would come out of it when the process was complete.

Jillian made her way to the ship's hatch and stepped down into the hangar. As she crossed the landing platform she heard an insistent beeping sound coming from the control platform. Turning, she climbed up a short flight of stairs and took a seat in the Kerachaw's command chair. Unlike the ship, this did adjust itself to fit her smaller frame. Bob had shown her how to operate the hangar's monitoring and surveillance system so it did not take her long to focus in on the source of the alarm.

On the monitor she saw a woman and two men, one of them carrying what looked like a shoulder mounted video camera, step off the hidden elevator that led up to the old lighthouse complex. She frowned, wondering how they had gotten so far without being detected. No... she mentally corrected herself, not undetected... the system had worked as designed. The correct term was unmonitored, and that she knew was her fault. If she had discovered them earlier, she could have shut down power to the hidden elevator and kept them stuck in the blockhouse.

As Jillian watched she saw the cameraman raise the television camera to his shoulder and slowly pan it around the small alcove next to the elevator, its powerful light cutting through the darkness like a searchlight. She wondered who they were and what had led them to the island. They looked like reporters, not documentarians, so they hadn't come to observe the island's seal population. Jillian switched the view over to the quay and dock. There was no boat tied up there, which meant they must have arrived by helicopter, but how had they discovered the secret entrance?

She switched her view back to the intruders. At least they weren't soldiers. A thought crossed her mind so she flipped a switch and ran a scan across each of them. The woman and cameraman weren't carrying anything more dangerous than flashlights. The older man, who did happen to look somewhat like a scientist, had a small, .38 caliber, semi-automatic pistol hidden in his jacket. The computer identified it as a Walther PPK. She hoped he wasn't some kind of government agent, though he didn't look the part. Jillian sighed mentally. "Stick to facts, girl." She thought to herself. "No sense making wild assumptions about them."

Looking at the intruders Jillian collected her thoughts. All right... they were obviously smart, having found and activated the elevator entrance. She doubted they could have come across it by accident. They obviously knew, or at least suspected they'd find something as evidenced by their equipment, and they were in search of a news story of some kind, which might mean that if push came to shove, they might be open to cutting a deal. Whether or not they could be trusted was a completely unknown factor.

* * * *

There was a corridor coming off the elevator that was unlit. Looking ahead with her flashlights the reporter saw what looked like an alcove with a large, sliding, steel door at one end. When they reached it they played their lights around examining the door closely. Teddy found a light switch and flipped it. Nothing happened. His light danced upward along the fluorescent fixtures. "They look like they're burned out."

"Probably haven't been used since this place was automated," Dan speculated. He pointed over to a sign on the wall next to the steel door. Yellow and black, it had the three triangles with an arrow pointing toward the door and the words "FALLOUT SHELTER" printed on it.

"Looks like you were right," 'Cat' said, looking at the technician. "This is a leftover from the Cold War. Teddy... could you get a few still shots of this, then pan around with the big camera so we can get a sense of scale?"

"Sure... You want sound?"

The reporter shook her head. "If we have to we can cut in narration later. Right now I just want something to set the scene."

"Got cha'." Ted proceeded to do a three-sixty pan of the alcove, corridor and door, the light from his video camera illuminating the entire scene. He then went back to the elevator and repeated the process. When he rejoined the others, he had his 35mm digital rig out and was snapping individual pictures of the entire area. While he worked, 'Cat' and Dan began examining the door.

"Looks pretty solid, though I can't imagine it was intended to survive anything closer than a near miss," the reporter observed. "The most significant target would be more than thirty miles away."

"You mean San Francisco."

'Cat' nodded. "This would have been a shelter for the lighthouse crew, maybe six to eight people at most. The door shouldn't be that difficult to get open."

Dan rubbed the back of his head. "Okay... Imagine you're the lighthouse crew and you know Frisco's about to be nuked. You can't rely on power from the mainland, so there'd have to be a manually operated crank to open her up with."

"What about this?" asked Teddy. They looked and saw he was pointing to what seem to be a fuse box imbedded in the wall and painted over so many time it was sealed tight.

"That might be it," said Dan. He dug into his gear and came up with a small mountain-climber's pick . Jamming one end unto a small gap in the door he used it as a makeshift crowbar. After about five minutes of effort he managed to pry back the lid. Inside he found a hand crank and insert mechanism. The gears looked old, but did not appear to be rusted together. Sticking one end of the crank into the mechanism, he turned it. Though hard to move, it did turn and with 'Cat''s and Teddy's help he managed to crank it through about fifteen revolutions before it stuck.

Looking up, the scientist was pleasantly surprised to see a gap about three feet across had opened in the steel doorway. Picking up their flashlights, the three explorers peeked into the room beyond. The interior was like a museum display from the 1960's. The room was about 20x30. Three sets of bunk beds lined the walls. In the center was a medium sized metal table with six chairs surrounding it. A metal couch sat in a corner facing what looked like an old combination television and radio set. In another corner sat a small table on which rested a radio transmitter. Another table contained a set of electric burners like those frequently smuggled into dormitories along with a small toaster-oven.

"All the comforts of home," muttered Teddy as they looked around. Seeing a set of switches he reached over and flipped one. There was a pause, then a momentary flickering of light as one of the fluorescent bulbs caught and then came on full. A thick coating of dust covered everything along with cobwebs. "Looks like they sealed this place up years ago and just forgot about it. So much for our grand treasure hunt."

"That's what we were meant to think," said 'Cat' as she ran one finger across a tabletop.

The cameraman looked at her. "What's that suppose to mean?"

The reporter rubbed the dust between her thumb and forefinger then sniffed it. "I've seen theatrical effects before. This dust has a talcum base. It's artificial."

"So someone rigged this as a set?" asked Dan. "Why?"

"Make it look like a dead end," 'Cat' replied. "You bring the portable sonar scanner?"

"Yeah... it's not as powerful as my main rig though."

"Doesn't need to be. Just scan the walls and floor. See if you can find a hidden door."

Nodding, the technician quickly got to work, using his apparatus first along one section of wall, then another. It took him about 10 minutes to completely scan a segment before moving on to the next. While he did, 'Cat' and Teddy were talking in one corner.

"Okay... I admit, I had my doubts but you might just be on the right track. The question is what's the end game here. Let's say we do find a way into the Outlander's 'Fortress of Solitude,' or 'Bat-cave,' or whatever you want to call it. What's your plan?"

"An interview!"

"An interview? With who... the alien, this Outlander? I don't know if you're aware of the fact, but he doesn't exactly have a press agent. He avoids media attention and that makes him a complete mystery."

"Why do you think I want to talk to him?" 'Cat' asked. "He like Sasquach the Lock Ness Monster and the Chupacabra rolled into one. The difference is, he's no myth. Other than the fact he's an alien and some of his friends were dissected..."

"By the Directory!"

"Yes... by the Directory. Don't you see? We know so little about him. Is he friend or foe? Why is he here? Where did he come from? What's his favorite color?"

"Probably pink," said Teddy, a deadpan expression on his face. 'Cat' just glared at him.

"... And what happened to that doctor who disappeared the night he vanished from the hospital... What's her name?"

"Jillian Strathern," the cameraman replied. 'Cat' grinned knowingly at him. "Okay, okay... I admit it. I'm more than a little interested in this guy myself... and it would make a great story. But can you really pull it off?"

"That is something we're going to find out."

TO BE CONTINUED....