Categories > Cartoons > Daria > 15 Years On
15 Years On – Chapter IV – Return of the Alien Love Goddess
By Dr. T
Daria has a surprising meeting.
Daria and the other associated characters are owned by its creators, MTV, et al. I am just playing.
*
That Friday morning, Daria reported to the Unit’s supervisor as soon as she got in. Even though it was fifteen minutes before anyone was required to be in the office, Dr. Latimore was already there as usual, going through reports. “Welcome back, Doctor Reese. Please have a seat while I finish these.”
He glanced through the printout he had been reading, and then two more before looking up. “As usual, your reports were most adequate.”
Daria nodded. She had quickly learned that ‘adequate’ was the most praise anyone usually earned verbally from this man. ‘Most adequate’ was high praise.
“Everyone else involved seems to disagree, however. With one exception, their comments command a wide range of excellent superlatives. Captain Chee and Major Coombs were especially complementary. You even impressed an Air Force general, whose name was redacted; most unusual.” He gave Daria a small cynical half smile. “Even more oddly, all the comments and reports were early.”
“Do I want to know who wasn’t complementary?” Daria asked drily. She wasn’t surprised that any perceived over-use of positive superlatives didn’t impress her boss.
“Agent Delany,” Latimore answered, before going on in a dry tone that matched Daria’s. “My understanding is that he generally denigrates or complains about the work of anyone who doesn’t work directly for him or isn’t at least two grades above him. He was very neutral and professional in his comments about you, which is apparently the equivalent of high glowing praise from me.”
Daria got the joke, but didn’t smile. “I’m glad he didn’t have any complaints. I know most of the regular agents dislike that we’re only technically part of the Bureau. Anything I should know about happen here while I was gone?”
“No new cases you need to worry about, but there are going to be changes in the Unit between January and next summer. First of all, Doctor Jones will be transferring over to the regular Bureau Forensics team.” Deciding he needed to say more, he added, “While his lab work for us is adequate, he loathes anything that takes him outside the lab, and we all have to be ready to go into the field.” Even Latimore sometimes did this, as well as taking on a light load in the autopsy labs. “Outside the lab, he can be slightly sloppy, which I will not tolerate.”
Daria would consider Jones’ field work as ‘adequate’ by her own high standards, but her boss’ were even stricter. “One of their people, who would like to do more field work, will be transferring over in return. Doctor Keetch will be leaving us for a field position with a museum next summer.” While Jones was a Forensics Medical Examiner, Keetch was one of the two full-time Forensic Anthropologists with the Unit.
“The Department has decided to establish a branch of our Unit to cover the West – the coast, Alaska, Hawai’i, and the Rockies. They would have handled your last case, even if you were still here. Any cases arising in Texas and the Plains states will be handled by whichever branch is the least busy. I was told that either you or Doctor Fish should be offered the job of the Unit director out there. I’m offering it to you first. You can give me your answer now, or on Monday if you want to discuss it with Ms Lane.”
“I’ll talk it over with her, but my answer will probably be no.” Daria frowned. “Doctor Fish is the assistant director here. If he goes out west, would Doctor Thomas be named the assistant, or would I?”
“Good question. Do you really want to be a director, or even an assistant director?”
“Not especially,” Daria admitted.
“I thought not. You like what you’re doing, and if generally left alone you don’t want to boss others around, and while the rest of the people here don’t know of your writing career, I know you don’t have to do this job for money any more, and so aren’t ambitious for a big raise.” He sat back. “Besides replacing whoever goes west – if both you and Doctor Fish turn it down, Doctor Thomas only has an outside chance – more likely, someone from the regular Unit will be offered the job. Anyway, besides replacing whoever goes out west and replacing Doctor Keetch, we’ll be hiring another Forensic Medical Examiner and two more Forensic Anthropologists, for a total of five, plus you. If Doctor Fish does go, I was thinking naming Doctor Thomas as the assistant in charge of the purely medical cases and you as the assistant in charge of the purely anthropological cases, and any that overlap the two. However, that’s still up in the air of course.”
“I understand.”
“Two more things. First, I have to admit I’m worried for you.”
Although she didn’t show it, that statement surprised her, as it was out of character to a degree. Her supervisor might take care of his people, but he almost never made an emotion-connected remark in a work situation. “Sir?”
“You’re gaining a reputation in many circles. It’s a positive reputation, of course, but I’ve been working for the government for over twenty-five years, and with the Bureau, including this unit, for almost the entire time. There are always all sorts of groups as well as individuals jockeying for power, for increased funding, for, well, lots of things. You’re becoming seen as a potential resource. I think you belong here, but that’s something you might have to decide.” He hesitated, and then slid a sheet of paper over to Daria. “I’m thinking about including this in your next job review.”
Some phrases leapt out at Daria, like: ‘Doctor Reese is one of the fifty best forensic physical anthropologists in the world, and the best under 40,’ and ‘the best younger forensic medical examiner working in any Federal agency.’ Daria looked up, shocked. Latimore never gave out statements like this, and she knew that he meant every one of them. He was not one of the greats of their field, but he was certainly excellent, and he knew talent and brilliant work when he saw it.
“Thank you, sir. This would mean a lot, but why?”
“I believe there are two legitimate scales to judge upon, sometimes either can be used at least in theory, other times only one or the other can. One is an absolute scale. I judge work performance here on that scale. None of us is perfect, none of us will always make the right call. However, that is the scale I judge our efforts on. The alternative is to judge against others. On the absolute scale, I am a mediocre driver. Compared to the other drivers out there, I am above average. I was asked to provide an early evaluation of you, and I was asked to base it on comparing you to those in your fields.”
“May I know who asked?”
“I know the Director told me to provide it, and I know it wasn’t his idea. I don’t know who told him they wanted it.”
“Now I’m worried.”
“I don’t know if worry is the right term, but I agree you should be wary,” he told her. “Now, speaking not as your supervisor, but as a friendly colleague, tell me, will I be getting a wedding invitation?”
“You knew we would go ahead?”
“I thought you might, but please remember that unlike most of our colleagues but like yourself, I observe even went not actively on a case.”
Daria blushed and looked at her new diamond ring. She and Jane had bought them the evening before, after dinner. “Of course. I forgot your nickname should be Doctor Bell.”
“The inspiration for Sherlock Holmes? Well, that’s better than what you and your colleagues do call me, that’s for certain. Congratulations, Daria.”
Daria’s head snapped up. That was the first time she had ever heard him address anyone in their Unit by their given name. “Thank you, sir. And yes, you’re on the guest list.”
“If you haven’t picked the date yet, please let me know on Monday if you want that week totally off.”
*
The rest of August and September flowed by nicely as far as Daria was concerned. She and Jane were only planning a fairly simple wedding in early November, although their guest list finally approached 100. A friend of Jane’s who made jewelry was creating their matching wedding rings, out of twisted strands of red and green gold.
Daria had only had to leave town on one case, one of the two unusual ones she had been handed by request during this period. The out of town case had involved the TSA, the State Department, the UN, and two foreign consulates in New York City. The one near Washington had been for the NSA, and at least she had been able to sleep at home.
Daria was seated in one of the small labs, ones used for bodies that didn’t require full autopsies, writing up her report when Dr. Latimore walked in.
“Is this our possible headless murder victim the Forestry Service sent us from Upper Michigan?” he asked.
“That was what it was reported as,” Daria answered. She stood and flipped down the cover from the table. Exposed was a near-skeleton (most ligaments and cartilage were present, and other bits of tissue were still attached) that was indeed headless, and missing the hands and feet as well.
Latimore glanced at it. “Year old brown bear?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m letting them know they have a poacher, not a murderer.”
“Good. You’re free.” He sighed and shut the door behind him.
Daria was concerned, as this was unusual. “Sir?”
He leaned back against a wall and crossed his arms. “I’ve been called in to talk with the Director twice about you, once last Friday and again this morning.”
“That’s not good.”
Latimore shrugged. “Might not be ‘bad,’ either. Last week, it was because at least four times since you got back from New Mexico, when the regular unit had to send their results to other agencies as well as internally, they were asked why you weren’t on the case.”
Daria winced slightly. “They wouldn’t like that.”
“No, they didn’t. I was able to assure them, and perhaps more importantly the Director, that no one here was trolling for cases, and that neither you nor I thought of the MEs in the Unit as anything but competent or better. I also added that if I found anyone in this Unit was disparaging the other, I would discipline them. That mostly satisfied them. The Director then metaphorically patted us both on the head and told us to play nice, but he also added that you had earned your reputation, and that if there were any complaints made about you by anyone in the regular Unit, he would deal with them himself.”
Daria’s eyes went wide.
“He also reminded the others that our Unit, although sharing some laboratory space and officially affiliated with the FBI and the Justice Department, also reports to Homeland Security in terms of our cases, and that if he was unable to deal with any problems, both the Attorney General and the Homeland Secretary would have to be called in directly. I think they got the message.” He made a face. “I certainly did.” It meant that one or more people with enough clout to get the ear of the Director and two Cabinet members was interested in Daria, or at least her work.
“I hope that doesn’t cause problems,” was all Daria could say. “And today?”
“You are to report to this address this afternoon by two o’clock,” he replied, holding out a simple post-it note. “The Director made several seemingly unrelated remarks; that you may be having some official time off our budget after this; that you wouldn’t need your tools or gun this afternoon; and that he was very glad you were being offered this meeting.”
“Oh, dear.” Daria glanced at the address of her appointment, and the parking location she was cleared for – a not uncommon curtesy in a city with limited parking in some parts of town. “This is well within the maze of government buildings.” She knew that her boss was nearly a third-generation Washington bureaucrat – his grandfather and two uncles had had civil service jobs since the mid-1930s. He was interested in the ins-and-outs of the Federal civil service and all the various entities.
He nodded; he knew what she was asking for. “Yes, I had enough time to glance through the old government directories I have. I wanted to give you time to at least start on that skeleton. The building is quite a substantial one, built during World War II. Nine storeys, basement, two sub-basements, and a three storey parking garage attached. It was originally used by the Selective Services. When the records started to be put on computer, parts of the building were reallocated as overflow space, beginning in the mid-Sixties. The building on the other side of it was knocked down in the mid-Sixties, and a five storey car park was erected, and this building shares it with the one on the other side of the new car park. The old car park has not been listed as being associated with any building since the late Sixties, and that’s the one you’ve been instructed to park at.”
“Who’s listed for the building?”
“Officially, Selective Services still control the bottom floor and the floors below street level. However, a little cross-checking shows they only actively use half the first floor. Who is really using the rest of those floors, well, you’ll likely find out, even if you aren’t allowed to tell me. The other eight floors have procurement offices and other support offices for different agencies. From the top down: NASA; NOAA; the USGS; a floor and a half to the EPA and the rest of that floor to the TVA of all things; the Bureau of Land Management; OSHA; and the OMB.”
“That’s quite the mish-mash of agencies,” Daria pointed out.
“It is. Very innocuous, and none of the offices would ever have people coming in off the street. I should also mention that the Director gave me the budget code to charge your time to today.” Since the Unit worked across agency lines, it had to charge some of its time to other agencies. “It was an internal code – one I’ve never seen before.” Considering his decades of experience, that was unusual. “Check your car and house for bugs. Hopefully I’ll see you Monday.” He turned to leave but then turned back around. “I doubt I need to say either, but be careful and if possible finish your report before you leave.”
“Yes, sir.”
*
Daria finished her report just before she took off for lunch. She figured that it would take around 20 minutes to drive from her parking space to the ‘unused’ parking garage, unless the DC traffic was far worse than usual (it was unlikely to be any better). She left at 1:25, mostly so she could circle around the block she was heading for at least twice. The building’s façade gave nothing away, and neither did the parking garage. Daria didn’t really expect either would, but she was both cautious and curious. Finally, at 1:54, she pulled into the entrance to the parking garage, stopping at what had appeared to be a simple drop arm gate. She had seen there was no guard or guard post between the entrance and exit, nor a post where a gate key could be used. Therefore, there would be a guard inside the garage. What she noticed now that she was at the gate was that it wasn’t a simple wooden arm, but a very heavy metal arm what actually went into a slot in a concrete post. Since it was unlikely a car could pick up enough speed, it would take at least a very heavy car or truck to crash the gate.
She could now see the guard post built about thirty feet inside the garage, and off-set with some more concrete pillars in front of it so any vehicle ramming through the gate could not easily swing left and take out the hut. There was a guard coming towards her, a second guard who stopped half way towards her, and two just visible at the door. While the two security guards who came towards her carried pistols in their gun belts, the two at the door also had submachine guns slung at the ready. Despite their basic uniforms, these were not basic civil service security; while not in military uniforms, Daria would have bet they were in fact highly trained military security.
Daria had her window down and her credentials out before the guard got to her. The guard took the case and looked at the FBI and Homeland Security ids. He handed it back with a nod and took a few steps to check her license plate. When he came back, he told her, “Please park your vehicle in the first available space around the corner. Then exit the vehicle and open the trunk for the guard waiting there.”
Daria repeated the order, and the heavy arm swung slowly up. Daria did as she was instructed.
“Ma’am, what are in these bags?” the next guard asked her as he pointed a probe around her car.
“I’m a physician and a forensic anthropologist. The metal tool kit has my anthropological tools and sample bags, the doctor’s bag is just that. If that is checking for explosives, my revolver and its shoulder holster are in the other metal box.”
“I understand, ma’am.” The probe circled inside her trunk. “Any other explosives, or accelerants other than normal car fluids, ma’am?”
“No.”
“Thank you, ma’am; your vehicle is clear. Please close it up and walk over to the entrance to the building. Do not attempt to enter until someone meets you on this side of the door. Is that clear, ma’am?”
“It is.”
“Thank you again, ma’am.” The guard stepped back to watch Daria close her trunk and lock the doors. She knew his eyes were on her, as were at least four cameras. The door she was heading for looked unguarded, but there was no outside handle and no window in it. There were two more cameras above the door, and one clearly moved to keep Daria in sight.
Daria’s expression didn’t change when the entrance door was opened and a young man gestured her in. He shut the door and wordlessly led Daria past a security checkpoint with three guards visible, to a set of stairs. He unlocked the stairway and they went down a flight. Daria followed the man into an office. He knocked on the inner office door, opened it, and gestured Daria in.
Daria walked in and greeted the man rising behind his desk. “General Springfield, nice to see you again.”
When the door to his office shut, a frowning John Springfield asked, “How did you guess it would be me?” He gestured for Daria to sit.
“If I were meeting with someone I knew, you were fairly high on the list before I arrived. However, even though he is not in uniform, I recognized the Lieutenant when he met me at the door; he was standing near the staff car that was parked on the other side of the plane that flew us to New Mexico. Therefore, you were likely involved, although of course that didn’t have to mean it was you I would be meeting.”
“I see. And what do you think this is about?”
“Most likely? If I were being consulted in my usual capacities, even for something very secret, I doubt this would be the approach, so that’s seems unlikely. Since we don’t seem overly concerned about plagues or nuclear or biological warfare at the moment, and I don’t see why you would be interested in dead bodies found on most government land, or why I would be consulted on terrorism . . . how about aliens?”
“Why aliens?”
“As opposed to mutants, secret societies of magic users, alternative dimensions, returning Norse gods, or other tropes from popular fiction?” Daria shrugged. “If it’s about actual aliens who are currently here, I admit it’s probably as unlikely as the others. If it’s planning on possible future contact? Well, let’s just say it’s the least unlikely alternative I came up with if the Air Force was involved.” She gave the general a hard look. “No matter what it is, if I say upfront I don’t participate in vivisections, and would not hold myself to any oath of secrecy if vivisections are performed to my knowledge or even suspicion, would that end this interview? Because I am saying that.”
“No, no vivisection, although if there were any possibility of that, I certainly wouldn’t say so at this point of the interview.” There were a number of folders on the desk, and the general slid a sheet of paper out of one. “Granted, you had little choice but to come here. If you are willing to stay and listen, committing yourself to nothing but secrecy, please sign.”
Daria read over the form, frowned, and took up the offered pen and, to the surprise of the general, struck out a sentence, replaced it, and then did the same to a phrase. She initialed both changes and signed the form, sliding it back.
The frowning general read over the changes, and flushed slightly, as one of the changes corrected some typos and the other was certainly an improvement he would have added to the form letter. He initialed both. “We have an agreement, Doctor Reese.” He added the sheet to a different folder and sat back in his chair. “You were partially correct. There is a special group whose job it will be to be in First Contact, when it arises and assuming they are deemed non-hostile. If you join, it will bring the group up to seventy-five people. Most are historians, linguists, and other social scientists, all current or former government employees. We keep it secret – less than a thousand people know about it – so that there’s no clamor from fringe groups about joining or supervising the group. We are willing to let you know more than most of the group if you’re in.”
“How much time are we talking about?”
“If there’s no actual Contact, four Saturdays a year.”
Daria nearly huffed, but agreed.
“Excellent! There are actually five groups. The first is a small group who works on things full time, the second is purely military, and it will be largely our job to determine if any Contact situation is hostile or not, and shifting through the evidence for any alien visitors. The third group would be your group. The fourth group are people, most of whom don’t know they are even in it, who cover a wide range of subjects. Most of the hard science people are in this fourth group. It’s possible we might add officially Ms Lane to this group, although she would then know about your involvement with the third group.” That made Daria relax a bit.
The general smiled. “We can hardly split up two alien love goddesses!”
“I wondered if you knew about that,” Daria admitted.
“We investigate all such claims, nearly all of which are nonsense of course. Although I hadn’t read your file before August, that claim about you is the first reference we have for you in these files.” He gave Daria a twisted smile. “You might be relieved to know that Artie Smith is totally delusional, and his skin is his own.”
“Unsurprising. I take it you are in charge of these groups? And should I ask about the fifth group?”
“I oversee the groups under the oversight of a Cabinet member, yes. The fifth set is made up of groups or individuals we keep an eye on, because they might come across evidence. Now, do you know ‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’?”
“Fairly well. My aunt gave me cassettes of the original radio show back when I was in middle school and I listened to it more than a few times. I’ve read all the books at some point or another, and have seen the TV show and movies.”
“Do you remember what a ‘teaser’ is in the series?”
“Something like rich and bored aliens who find someone who will never be believed and they are given a light show by the aliens?”
“Close enough, although I doubt the ‘rich and bored’ part is accurate. In fact, teasers are, or were, real. We have good evidence for them, although none verified in the US since the early 1950s. We do have a few probables and a few more possibles since then, especially overseas.”
That made Daria sit up. “Really? Then faster-than-light space flight in some form is really possible?” That was, of course, the main argument against there being any aliens near Earth from other solar systems than this one.
“Of some sort. What kind, actual faster-than-light, warped space flight, flight through some other kind of alternative space, or something we can’t even guess at; we just have no idea. I doubt if the small teaser crafts would have it. In fact, two men who were future presidents had such encounters, which is where our story starts. Can you deduce either?”
“I take it that these occurred a long time ago?”
“Both in the late nineteenth century.”
“My best guess would be Theodore Roosevelt, when he was a rancher out in North Dakota in the 1880s.”
“Exactly right. Not a good choice by the teaser, picking a very scientifically-minded temporary cowboy. When he became president, he set up the forerunner of this program and briefed the next two presidents.”
“Wasn’t Herbert Hoover a mining engineer in China? He might have been out alone.”
“He was in Australia first, and that’s where it happened. He kept the groups going when he was part of the Harding and Coolidge administrations. Theodore had also briefed his cousin Franklin, when Franklin was the Assistant Secretary of the Navy under Wilson, and FDR expanded the program when he succeeded Hoover, especially during World War II. On top of the teasers, there has been other evidence, gathered more scientifically. We know there were large crafts near the moon as late as the mid-1950s, and even larger ones further away from us. The last one spotted near Mercury was in the early 1960s, and in the asteroid belt in the mid-Sixties. There is a fair amount of indirect evidence that there are alien crafts mining the asteroid belt these days, but they keep on the far side of the sun from us. Minor changes in the asteroids and their orbits can only really be accounted for by these activities. In addition, Hubble spotted this a few hours after it went operational.” He slid a photo across to Daria.
All Daria could say was, “It’s not very clear, but. . . .”
“But it’s clearly a craft of some sort. That is a block about eleven kilometers long, with a forward oblong or oval projection about four kilometers long. There are six nacelles of some sort, each about six kilometers long, attached to the block. It or similar ships have been detected five times out past the orbit of Pluto. There’s even a famous partial and distorted communications blip from one.”
“The so-called ‘wow-signal’ back in the Seventies?”
“1977 in fact. Fortunately, that was mistaken by most as a signal from deep space. We believe the signal was partially reflected our way and was meant to go to the asteroid belt.”
“I admit, you have me hooked. Why me?”
“When we met a few months ago, you and, likely because of you, Ms Lane were already on the list of possible group four people, along with about six thousand others. To be considered for the third group, a person needs to have a government connection and to have been recommended independently by five people who know about it. As I said before, that’s a relatively small group of recommenders. You had three recommendations at that point. All that intrigued me, especially because there was one part of your file that I couldn’t access.”
Daria said nothing, willing to wait him out.
“Fine,” he said after a bit of time. “I’d hate to play poker with you. You’ve been pretty thoroughly investigated because of your job. Someone fairly high up must be a fan of your novels, as that is ‘need-to-know’ only, and I didn’t need to know.”
“So you used considering me for the third group as an excuse to exercise your curiosity?”
“Not primarily. You did impress me, despite our short acquaintance, and I read the reports on your performance in New Mexico. I set the wheels in motion so that if you were recommended two more times, the clearance would either be ready, or you would have been rejected. The two came in much faster than I anticipated, and you are a scientist in your own right – twelve well regarded articles – as well as a true humanist. You have the right skills and mind set for the third group. I saw no reason to reject you and many reasons to accept you. And here we are.”
“Since you know about my writing, there is something you should know. I recently sold a new series of nine related novels, the first of which will go on sale early next year. They are a mixture of the usual erotic romance story lines with action-spy stories, set during the late 1960s through the end of the Cold War. In one of the later novels, the action partially centers on an instillation partially modeled on the public beliefs about Area 51. The plot concerns the development of stealth aircraft, but it is hinted that part of the instillation is devoted to studying an alien aircraft.”
“I see. I’ll note that down. Since you’re telling me now, there’s no way that your involvement with the program could see seen as inspiring the story line.” As he jotted down a reminder, he asked, “Anything else at the moment?”
“Do you think First Contact is likely?”
“In the long term, yes. The aliens are still in the solar system at the least, and they know we’re here and what our levels of technology and civilization are. They are almost certainly monitoring us, and it’s very possible they are still visiting, albeit with better stealth technology then they were using before.”
Seeing the curious look, he added, “Our best guess is that if they are visiting, then using such technology is a major power drain, and so they wouldn’t have used it until they had to.”
“Certainly a possibility.”
“And it’s also possible they are keeping their distance until they want to make things official. Assuming they aren’t overtly hostile when they do reveal themselves, they are likely waiting until we reach acceptable levels of both technology and culture.” Springfield made a face. “I could be wrong, but I’d be willing to bet we’re further from whatever acceptable level of behavior they expect than we are on the technological end.”
“So you’re hoping for a Star Trek type first contact situation rather than some other?”
“Hoping for, yes; preparing for, well, many others.”
“No mysterious blue boxes, alien clones, flying bicycles, people chanting boring musical fragments, or huge radio dishes sticking out of a kid’s butt in Colorado?”
“No, if the FBI is hiding any X-Files, they aren’t part of any alien take-overs, and if there is a real-life Doctor, he hasn’t saved us from any invasions we know of and likely has a functioning chameleon circuit. No one has had anything like a radio dish sticking out of their butt, either, although I know of some people I would wish that on. No flying bicycles, but that other movie made the people in charge at the time start adding musicians and artists to group four.”
“I can think of some people who I would have guessed had those dishes up their butts. As for the artists, well, Jane can make a better mashed-potato mountain than most people.”
“Ah, Ms Lane. We’ll have to arrange a meeting with her, so she can sign the security oaths and then be briefed.”
“I understand.” Daria frowned. “Am I related to someone I can discuss these things with?”
“Amy is in fact a member of the third group,” the general acknowledged. “However, I do need to ask you something about Ms Lane.”
Daria’s eyes held the general’s. He was not a man who was easily intimidated, but he had to admit that Daria Reese was able to do so. “Yes?”
“We did an extensive background check on her as well as you. I can say, for example, if either of you were still married to your ex-husbands, or if you were still in close contact with yours, your approval would not have come through.”
“Understandable,” Daria acknowledged.
“Other than her older brother, would it be accurate to say that Ms Lane, and perhaps her parents, have not been in contact with her other siblings recently?”
“I can see how Wind and Penny might be seen as security risks if they haven’t changed,” Daria agreed. “No, there was some sort of break between them and Jane’s parents something like seven or eight years ago. I don’t think any of them have been in contact with any of other siblings since then.”
“Then we found out some information you might want to pass along.”
By Dr. T
Daria has a surprising meeting.
Daria and the other associated characters are owned by its creators, MTV, et al. I am just playing.
*
That Friday morning, Daria reported to the Unit’s supervisor as soon as she got in. Even though it was fifteen minutes before anyone was required to be in the office, Dr. Latimore was already there as usual, going through reports. “Welcome back, Doctor Reese. Please have a seat while I finish these.”
He glanced through the printout he had been reading, and then two more before looking up. “As usual, your reports were most adequate.”
Daria nodded. She had quickly learned that ‘adequate’ was the most praise anyone usually earned verbally from this man. ‘Most adequate’ was high praise.
“Everyone else involved seems to disagree, however. With one exception, their comments command a wide range of excellent superlatives. Captain Chee and Major Coombs were especially complementary. You even impressed an Air Force general, whose name was redacted; most unusual.” He gave Daria a small cynical half smile. “Even more oddly, all the comments and reports were early.”
“Do I want to know who wasn’t complementary?” Daria asked drily. She wasn’t surprised that any perceived over-use of positive superlatives didn’t impress her boss.
“Agent Delany,” Latimore answered, before going on in a dry tone that matched Daria’s. “My understanding is that he generally denigrates or complains about the work of anyone who doesn’t work directly for him or isn’t at least two grades above him. He was very neutral and professional in his comments about you, which is apparently the equivalent of high glowing praise from me.”
Daria got the joke, but didn’t smile. “I’m glad he didn’t have any complaints. I know most of the regular agents dislike that we’re only technically part of the Bureau. Anything I should know about happen here while I was gone?”
“No new cases you need to worry about, but there are going to be changes in the Unit between January and next summer. First of all, Doctor Jones will be transferring over to the regular Bureau Forensics team.” Deciding he needed to say more, he added, “While his lab work for us is adequate, he loathes anything that takes him outside the lab, and we all have to be ready to go into the field.” Even Latimore sometimes did this, as well as taking on a light load in the autopsy labs. “Outside the lab, he can be slightly sloppy, which I will not tolerate.”
Daria would consider Jones’ field work as ‘adequate’ by her own high standards, but her boss’ were even stricter. “One of their people, who would like to do more field work, will be transferring over in return. Doctor Keetch will be leaving us for a field position with a museum next summer.” While Jones was a Forensics Medical Examiner, Keetch was one of the two full-time Forensic Anthropologists with the Unit.
“The Department has decided to establish a branch of our Unit to cover the West – the coast, Alaska, Hawai’i, and the Rockies. They would have handled your last case, even if you were still here. Any cases arising in Texas and the Plains states will be handled by whichever branch is the least busy. I was told that either you or Doctor Fish should be offered the job of the Unit director out there. I’m offering it to you first. You can give me your answer now, or on Monday if you want to discuss it with Ms Lane.”
“I’ll talk it over with her, but my answer will probably be no.” Daria frowned. “Doctor Fish is the assistant director here. If he goes out west, would Doctor Thomas be named the assistant, or would I?”
“Good question. Do you really want to be a director, or even an assistant director?”
“Not especially,” Daria admitted.
“I thought not. You like what you’re doing, and if generally left alone you don’t want to boss others around, and while the rest of the people here don’t know of your writing career, I know you don’t have to do this job for money any more, and so aren’t ambitious for a big raise.” He sat back. “Besides replacing whoever goes west – if both you and Doctor Fish turn it down, Doctor Thomas only has an outside chance – more likely, someone from the regular Unit will be offered the job. Anyway, besides replacing whoever goes out west and replacing Doctor Keetch, we’ll be hiring another Forensic Medical Examiner and two more Forensic Anthropologists, for a total of five, plus you. If Doctor Fish does go, I was thinking naming Doctor Thomas as the assistant in charge of the purely medical cases and you as the assistant in charge of the purely anthropological cases, and any that overlap the two. However, that’s still up in the air of course.”
“I understand.”
“Two more things. First, I have to admit I’m worried for you.”
Although she didn’t show it, that statement surprised her, as it was out of character to a degree. Her supervisor might take care of his people, but he almost never made an emotion-connected remark in a work situation. “Sir?”
“You’re gaining a reputation in many circles. It’s a positive reputation, of course, but I’ve been working for the government for over twenty-five years, and with the Bureau, including this unit, for almost the entire time. There are always all sorts of groups as well as individuals jockeying for power, for increased funding, for, well, lots of things. You’re becoming seen as a potential resource. I think you belong here, but that’s something you might have to decide.” He hesitated, and then slid a sheet of paper over to Daria. “I’m thinking about including this in your next job review.”
Some phrases leapt out at Daria, like: ‘Doctor Reese is one of the fifty best forensic physical anthropologists in the world, and the best under 40,’ and ‘the best younger forensic medical examiner working in any Federal agency.’ Daria looked up, shocked. Latimore never gave out statements like this, and she knew that he meant every one of them. He was not one of the greats of their field, but he was certainly excellent, and he knew talent and brilliant work when he saw it.
“Thank you, sir. This would mean a lot, but why?”
“I believe there are two legitimate scales to judge upon, sometimes either can be used at least in theory, other times only one or the other can. One is an absolute scale. I judge work performance here on that scale. None of us is perfect, none of us will always make the right call. However, that is the scale I judge our efforts on. The alternative is to judge against others. On the absolute scale, I am a mediocre driver. Compared to the other drivers out there, I am above average. I was asked to provide an early evaluation of you, and I was asked to base it on comparing you to those in your fields.”
“May I know who asked?”
“I know the Director told me to provide it, and I know it wasn’t his idea. I don’t know who told him they wanted it.”
“Now I’m worried.”
“I don’t know if worry is the right term, but I agree you should be wary,” he told her. “Now, speaking not as your supervisor, but as a friendly colleague, tell me, will I be getting a wedding invitation?”
“You knew we would go ahead?”
“I thought you might, but please remember that unlike most of our colleagues but like yourself, I observe even went not actively on a case.”
Daria blushed and looked at her new diamond ring. She and Jane had bought them the evening before, after dinner. “Of course. I forgot your nickname should be Doctor Bell.”
“The inspiration for Sherlock Holmes? Well, that’s better than what you and your colleagues do call me, that’s for certain. Congratulations, Daria.”
Daria’s head snapped up. That was the first time she had ever heard him address anyone in their Unit by their given name. “Thank you, sir. And yes, you’re on the guest list.”
“If you haven’t picked the date yet, please let me know on Monday if you want that week totally off.”
*
The rest of August and September flowed by nicely as far as Daria was concerned. She and Jane were only planning a fairly simple wedding in early November, although their guest list finally approached 100. A friend of Jane’s who made jewelry was creating their matching wedding rings, out of twisted strands of red and green gold.
Daria had only had to leave town on one case, one of the two unusual ones she had been handed by request during this period. The out of town case had involved the TSA, the State Department, the UN, and two foreign consulates in New York City. The one near Washington had been for the NSA, and at least she had been able to sleep at home.
Daria was seated in one of the small labs, ones used for bodies that didn’t require full autopsies, writing up her report when Dr. Latimore walked in.
“Is this our possible headless murder victim the Forestry Service sent us from Upper Michigan?” he asked.
“That was what it was reported as,” Daria answered. She stood and flipped down the cover from the table. Exposed was a near-skeleton (most ligaments and cartilage were present, and other bits of tissue were still attached) that was indeed headless, and missing the hands and feet as well.
Latimore glanced at it. “Year old brown bear?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m letting them know they have a poacher, not a murderer.”
“Good. You’re free.” He sighed and shut the door behind him.
Daria was concerned, as this was unusual. “Sir?”
He leaned back against a wall and crossed his arms. “I’ve been called in to talk with the Director twice about you, once last Friday and again this morning.”
“That’s not good.”
Latimore shrugged. “Might not be ‘bad,’ either. Last week, it was because at least four times since you got back from New Mexico, when the regular unit had to send their results to other agencies as well as internally, they were asked why you weren’t on the case.”
Daria winced slightly. “They wouldn’t like that.”
“No, they didn’t. I was able to assure them, and perhaps more importantly the Director, that no one here was trolling for cases, and that neither you nor I thought of the MEs in the Unit as anything but competent or better. I also added that if I found anyone in this Unit was disparaging the other, I would discipline them. That mostly satisfied them. The Director then metaphorically patted us both on the head and told us to play nice, but he also added that you had earned your reputation, and that if there were any complaints made about you by anyone in the regular Unit, he would deal with them himself.”
Daria’s eyes went wide.
“He also reminded the others that our Unit, although sharing some laboratory space and officially affiliated with the FBI and the Justice Department, also reports to Homeland Security in terms of our cases, and that if he was unable to deal with any problems, both the Attorney General and the Homeland Secretary would have to be called in directly. I think they got the message.” He made a face. “I certainly did.” It meant that one or more people with enough clout to get the ear of the Director and two Cabinet members was interested in Daria, or at least her work.
“I hope that doesn’t cause problems,” was all Daria could say. “And today?”
“You are to report to this address this afternoon by two o’clock,” he replied, holding out a simple post-it note. “The Director made several seemingly unrelated remarks; that you may be having some official time off our budget after this; that you wouldn’t need your tools or gun this afternoon; and that he was very glad you were being offered this meeting.”
“Oh, dear.” Daria glanced at the address of her appointment, and the parking location she was cleared for – a not uncommon curtesy in a city with limited parking in some parts of town. “This is well within the maze of government buildings.” She knew that her boss was nearly a third-generation Washington bureaucrat – his grandfather and two uncles had had civil service jobs since the mid-1930s. He was interested in the ins-and-outs of the Federal civil service and all the various entities.
He nodded; he knew what she was asking for. “Yes, I had enough time to glance through the old government directories I have. I wanted to give you time to at least start on that skeleton. The building is quite a substantial one, built during World War II. Nine storeys, basement, two sub-basements, and a three storey parking garage attached. It was originally used by the Selective Services. When the records started to be put on computer, parts of the building were reallocated as overflow space, beginning in the mid-Sixties. The building on the other side of it was knocked down in the mid-Sixties, and a five storey car park was erected, and this building shares it with the one on the other side of the new car park. The old car park has not been listed as being associated with any building since the late Sixties, and that’s the one you’ve been instructed to park at.”
“Who’s listed for the building?”
“Officially, Selective Services still control the bottom floor and the floors below street level. However, a little cross-checking shows they only actively use half the first floor. Who is really using the rest of those floors, well, you’ll likely find out, even if you aren’t allowed to tell me. The other eight floors have procurement offices and other support offices for different agencies. From the top down: NASA; NOAA; the USGS; a floor and a half to the EPA and the rest of that floor to the TVA of all things; the Bureau of Land Management; OSHA; and the OMB.”
“That’s quite the mish-mash of agencies,” Daria pointed out.
“It is. Very innocuous, and none of the offices would ever have people coming in off the street. I should also mention that the Director gave me the budget code to charge your time to today.” Since the Unit worked across agency lines, it had to charge some of its time to other agencies. “It was an internal code – one I’ve never seen before.” Considering his decades of experience, that was unusual. “Check your car and house for bugs. Hopefully I’ll see you Monday.” He turned to leave but then turned back around. “I doubt I need to say either, but be careful and if possible finish your report before you leave.”
“Yes, sir.”
*
Daria finished her report just before she took off for lunch. She figured that it would take around 20 minutes to drive from her parking space to the ‘unused’ parking garage, unless the DC traffic was far worse than usual (it was unlikely to be any better). She left at 1:25, mostly so she could circle around the block she was heading for at least twice. The building’s façade gave nothing away, and neither did the parking garage. Daria didn’t really expect either would, but she was both cautious and curious. Finally, at 1:54, she pulled into the entrance to the parking garage, stopping at what had appeared to be a simple drop arm gate. She had seen there was no guard or guard post between the entrance and exit, nor a post where a gate key could be used. Therefore, there would be a guard inside the garage. What she noticed now that she was at the gate was that it wasn’t a simple wooden arm, but a very heavy metal arm what actually went into a slot in a concrete post. Since it was unlikely a car could pick up enough speed, it would take at least a very heavy car or truck to crash the gate.
She could now see the guard post built about thirty feet inside the garage, and off-set with some more concrete pillars in front of it so any vehicle ramming through the gate could not easily swing left and take out the hut. There was a guard coming towards her, a second guard who stopped half way towards her, and two just visible at the door. While the two security guards who came towards her carried pistols in their gun belts, the two at the door also had submachine guns slung at the ready. Despite their basic uniforms, these were not basic civil service security; while not in military uniforms, Daria would have bet they were in fact highly trained military security.
Daria had her window down and her credentials out before the guard got to her. The guard took the case and looked at the FBI and Homeland Security ids. He handed it back with a nod and took a few steps to check her license plate. When he came back, he told her, “Please park your vehicle in the first available space around the corner. Then exit the vehicle and open the trunk for the guard waiting there.”
Daria repeated the order, and the heavy arm swung slowly up. Daria did as she was instructed.
“Ma’am, what are in these bags?” the next guard asked her as he pointed a probe around her car.
“I’m a physician and a forensic anthropologist. The metal tool kit has my anthropological tools and sample bags, the doctor’s bag is just that. If that is checking for explosives, my revolver and its shoulder holster are in the other metal box.”
“I understand, ma’am.” The probe circled inside her trunk. “Any other explosives, or accelerants other than normal car fluids, ma’am?”
“No.”
“Thank you, ma’am; your vehicle is clear. Please close it up and walk over to the entrance to the building. Do not attempt to enter until someone meets you on this side of the door. Is that clear, ma’am?”
“It is.”
“Thank you again, ma’am.” The guard stepped back to watch Daria close her trunk and lock the doors. She knew his eyes were on her, as were at least four cameras. The door she was heading for looked unguarded, but there was no outside handle and no window in it. There were two more cameras above the door, and one clearly moved to keep Daria in sight.
Daria’s expression didn’t change when the entrance door was opened and a young man gestured her in. He shut the door and wordlessly led Daria past a security checkpoint with three guards visible, to a set of stairs. He unlocked the stairway and they went down a flight. Daria followed the man into an office. He knocked on the inner office door, opened it, and gestured Daria in.
Daria walked in and greeted the man rising behind his desk. “General Springfield, nice to see you again.”
When the door to his office shut, a frowning John Springfield asked, “How did you guess it would be me?” He gestured for Daria to sit.
“If I were meeting with someone I knew, you were fairly high on the list before I arrived. However, even though he is not in uniform, I recognized the Lieutenant when he met me at the door; he was standing near the staff car that was parked on the other side of the plane that flew us to New Mexico. Therefore, you were likely involved, although of course that didn’t have to mean it was you I would be meeting.”
“I see. And what do you think this is about?”
“Most likely? If I were being consulted in my usual capacities, even for something very secret, I doubt this would be the approach, so that’s seems unlikely. Since we don’t seem overly concerned about plagues or nuclear or biological warfare at the moment, and I don’t see why you would be interested in dead bodies found on most government land, or why I would be consulted on terrorism . . . how about aliens?”
“Why aliens?”
“As opposed to mutants, secret societies of magic users, alternative dimensions, returning Norse gods, or other tropes from popular fiction?” Daria shrugged. “If it’s about actual aliens who are currently here, I admit it’s probably as unlikely as the others. If it’s planning on possible future contact? Well, let’s just say it’s the least unlikely alternative I came up with if the Air Force was involved.” She gave the general a hard look. “No matter what it is, if I say upfront I don’t participate in vivisections, and would not hold myself to any oath of secrecy if vivisections are performed to my knowledge or even suspicion, would that end this interview? Because I am saying that.”
“No, no vivisection, although if there were any possibility of that, I certainly wouldn’t say so at this point of the interview.” There were a number of folders on the desk, and the general slid a sheet of paper out of one. “Granted, you had little choice but to come here. If you are willing to stay and listen, committing yourself to nothing but secrecy, please sign.”
Daria read over the form, frowned, and took up the offered pen and, to the surprise of the general, struck out a sentence, replaced it, and then did the same to a phrase. She initialed both changes and signed the form, sliding it back.
The frowning general read over the changes, and flushed slightly, as one of the changes corrected some typos and the other was certainly an improvement he would have added to the form letter. He initialed both. “We have an agreement, Doctor Reese.” He added the sheet to a different folder and sat back in his chair. “You were partially correct. There is a special group whose job it will be to be in First Contact, when it arises and assuming they are deemed non-hostile. If you join, it will bring the group up to seventy-five people. Most are historians, linguists, and other social scientists, all current or former government employees. We keep it secret – less than a thousand people know about it – so that there’s no clamor from fringe groups about joining or supervising the group. We are willing to let you know more than most of the group if you’re in.”
“How much time are we talking about?”
“If there’s no actual Contact, four Saturdays a year.”
Daria nearly huffed, but agreed.
“Excellent! There are actually five groups. The first is a small group who works on things full time, the second is purely military, and it will be largely our job to determine if any Contact situation is hostile or not, and shifting through the evidence for any alien visitors. The third group would be your group. The fourth group are people, most of whom don’t know they are even in it, who cover a wide range of subjects. Most of the hard science people are in this fourth group. It’s possible we might add officially Ms Lane to this group, although she would then know about your involvement with the third group.” That made Daria relax a bit.
The general smiled. “We can hardly split up two alien love goddesses!”
“I wondered if you knew about that,” Daria admitted.
“We investigate all such claims, nearly all of which are nonsense of course. Although I hadn’t read your file before August, that claim about you is the first reference we have for you in these files.” He gave Daria a twisted smile. “You might be relieved to know that Artie Smith is totally delusional, and his skin is his own.”
“Unsurprising. I take it you are in charge of these groups? And should I ask about the fifth group?”
“I oversee the groups under the oversight of a Cabinet member, yes. The fifth set is made up of groups or individuals we keep an eye on, because they might come across evidence. Now, do you know ‘The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy’?”
“Fairly well. My aunt gave me cassettes of the original radio show back when I was in middle school and I listened to it more than a few times. I’ve read all the books at some point or another, and have seen the TV show and movies.”
“Do you remember what a ‘teaser’ is in the series?”
“Something like rich and bored aliens who find someone who will never be believed and they are given a light show by the aliens?”
“Close enough, although I doubt the ‘rich and bored’ part is accurate. In fact, teasers are, or were, real. We have good evidence for them, although none verified in the US since the early 1950s. We do have a few probables and a few more possibles since then, especially overseas.”
That made Daria sit up. “Really? Then faster-than-light space flight in some form is really possible?” That was, of course, the main argument against there being any aliens near Earth from other solar systems than this one.
“Of some sort. What kind, actual faster-than-light, warped space flight, flight through some other kind of alternative space, or something we can’t even guess at; we just have no idea. I doubt if the small teaser crafts would have it. In fact, two men who were future presidents had such encounters, which is where our story starts. Can you deduce either?”
“I take it that these occurred a long time ago?”
“Both in the late nineteenth century.”
“My best guess would be Theodore Roosevelt, when he was a rancher out in North Dakota in the 1880s.”
“Exactly right. Not a good choice by the teaser, picking a very scientifically-minded temporary cowboy. When he became president, he set up the forerunner of this program and briefed the next two presidents.”
“Wasn’t Herbert Hoover a mining engineer in China? He might have been out alone.”
“He was in Australia first, and that’s where it happened. He kept the groups going when he was part of the Harding and Coolidge administrations. Theodore had also briefed his cousin Franklin, when Franklin was the Assistant Secretary of the Navy under Wilson, and FDR expanded the program when he succeeded Hoover, especially during World War II. On top of the teasers, there has been other evidence, gathered more scientifically. We know there were large crafts near the moon as late as the mid-1950s, and even larger ones further away from us. The last one spotted near Mercury was in the early 1960s, and in the asteroid belt in the mid-Sixties. There is a fair amount of indirect evidence that there are alien crafts mining the asteroid belt these days, but they keep on the far side of the sun from us. Minor changes in the asteroids and their orbits can only really be accounted for by these activities. In addition, Hubble spotted this a few hours after it went operational.” He slid a photo across to Daria.
All Daria could say was, “It’s not very clear, but. . . .”
“But it’s clearly a craft of some sort. That is a block about eleven kilometers long, with a forward oblong or oval projection about four kilometers long. There are six nacelles of some sort, each about six kilometers long, attached to the block. It or similar ships have been detected five times out past the orbit of Pluto. There’s even a famous partial and distorted communications blip from one.”
“The so-called ‘wow-signal’ back in the Seventies?”
“1977 in fact. Fortunately, that was mistaken by most as a signal from deep space. We believe the signal was partially reflected our way and was meant to go to the asteroid belt.”
“I admit, you have me hooked. Why me?”
“When we met a few months ago, you and, likely because of you, Ms Lane were already on the list of possible group four people, along with about six thousand others. To be considered for the third group, a person needs to have a government connection and to have been recommended independently by five people who know about it. As I said before, that’s a relatively small group of recommenders. You had three recommendations at that point. All that intrigued me, especially because there was one part of your file that I couldn’t access.”
Daria said nothing, willing to wait him out.
“Fine,” he said after a bit of time. “I’d hate to play poker with you. You’ve been pretty thoroughly investigated because of your job. Someone fairly high up must be a fan of your novels, as that is ‘need-to-know’ only, and I didn’t need to know.”
“So you used considering me for the third group as an excuse to exercise your curiosity?”
“Not primarily. You did impress me, despite our short acquaintance, and I read the reports on your performance in New Mexico. I set the wheels in motion so that if you were recommended two more times, the clearance would either be ready, or you would have been rejected. The two came in much faster than I anticipated, and you are a scientist in your own right – twelve well regarded articles – as well as a true humanist. You have the right skills and mind set for the third group. I saw no reason to reject you and many reasons to accept you. And here we are.”
“Since you know about my writing, there is something you should know. I recently sold a new series of nine related novels, the first of which will go on sale early next year. They are a mixture of the usual erotic romance story lines with action-spy stories, set during the late 1960s through the end of the Cold War. In one of the later novels, the action partially centers on an instillation partially modeled on the public beliefs about Area 51. The plot concerns the development of stealth aircraft, but it is hinted that part of the instillation is devoted to studying an alien aircraft.”
“I see. I’ll note that down. Since you’re telling me now, there’s no way that your involvement with the program could see seen as inspiring the story line.” As he jotted down a reminder, he asked, “Anything else at the moment?”
“Do you think First Contact is likely?”
“In the long term, yes. The aliens are still in the solar system at the least, and they know we’re here and what our levels of technology and civilization are. They are almost certainly monitoring us, and it’s very possible they are still visiting, albeit with better stealth technology then they were using before.”
Seeing the curious look, he added, “Our best guess is that if they are visiting, then using such technology is a major power drain, and so they wouldn’t have used it until they had to.”
“Certainly a possibility.”
“And it’s also possible they are keeping their distance until they want to make things official. Assuming they aren’t overtly hostile when they do reveal themselves, they are likely waiting until we reach acceptable levels of both technology and culture.” Springfield made a face. “I could be wrong, but I’d be willing to bet we’re further from whatever acceptable level of behavior they expect than we are on the technological end.”
“So you’re hoping for a Star Trek type first contact situation rather than some other?”
“Hoping for, yes; preparing for, well, many others.”
“No mysterious blue boxes, alien clones, flying bicycles, people chanting boring musical fragments, or huge radio dishes sticking out of a kid’s butt in Colorado?”
“No, if the FBI is hiding any X-Files, they aren’t part of any alien take-overs, and if there is a real-life Doctor, he hasn’t saved us from any invasions we know of and likely has a functioning chameleon circuit. No one has had anything like a radio dish sticking out of their butt, either, although I know of some people I would wish that on. No flying bicycles, but that other movie made the people in charge at the time start adding musicians and artists to group four.”
“I can think of some people who I would have guessed had those dishes up their butts. As for the artists, well, Jane can make a better mashed-potato mountain than most people.”
“Ah, Ms Lane. We’ll have to arrange a meeting with her, so she can sign the security oaths and then be briefed.”
“I understand.” Daria frowned. “Am I related to someone I can discuss these things with?”
“Amy is in fact a member of the third group,” the general acknowledged. “However, I do need to ask you something about Ms Lane.”
Daria’s eyes held the general’s. He was not a man who was easily intimidated, but he had to admit that Daria Reese was able to do so. “Yes?”
“We did an extensive background check on her as well as you. I can say, for example, if either of you were still married to your ex-husbands, or if you were still in close contact with yours, your approval would not have come through.”
“Understandable,” Daria acknowledged.
“Other than her older brother, would it be accurate to say that Ms Lane, and perhaps her parents, have not been in contact with her other siblings recently?”
“I can see how Wind and Penny might be seen as security risks if they haven’t changed,” Daria agreed. “No, there was some sort of break between them and Jane’s parents something like seven or eight years ago. I don’t think any of them have been in contact with any of other siblings since then.”
“Then we found out some information you might want to pass along.”
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