Chapter 1

After the Trial

Slipping a disk into the computer, Adam MacArthur took a final look around the crowded library before bending over the monitor in concentration. Files flickered on the screen almost too fast to read, stopping on the name, WEST, David.        "Almost oceanographer," the Visitor said softly to himself. The pilfered NSA file detailed the accomplishments of this young man from his years as a volunteer feeder at Sea World, his studies at various West Coast universities: biology, psychology, oceanography, and his eventual position at Scripps Institute, one credit short of a doctorate. When the grant for comparative studies of marine mammals dried up, David West was out of a job. No wonder he agreed to re-locate to the Gulf Coast, the Emerald Coast near Pensacola, Florida to work for the Navy. In its never-ending game of one-up-manship so integral to the armed forces, it appeared that the Navy had gained possession of some very special marine mammals. These were trained dolphins placed on the market with the break-up of Russia's Black Sea Fleet. To the Visitor, continually scanning the checks and balances of mankind's direction, this combination signaled trouble.        MacArthur frowned and closed down one window after another on the monitor. He resisted the urge to rub the itching, burning area behind his left ear and sighed. He should have been energized by his recent vindication by the Elders, his developing perspective of a larger plan, and the knowledge that his abductors were not quite the aliens they had seemed to be. Instead, the Visitor felt disoriented, fatigued, and even more isolated from present day affairs on Earth. Soon the tiny crystalline implant that he had jammed into the skin and bone behind his left ear with the Elders' ever-present direction would begin to function. He imagined he could feel the connection growing into his temporal lobe, the center for auditory comprehension in his brain. Once fully activated, this implant would establish a constant connection with the "others", the human abductees who had demonstrated their readiness for the next level of interaction. But the Visitor found his thoughts straying more often toward his son, Jason. With his wife, Constance, gone and with his newly changed status, it seemed even more urgent to find Jason and make his peace with this son he had hardly known. He was certain his time on Earth would not be unlimited. If only the Elders had understood his longing to see his son, again.

Adam MacArthur swayed with the rhythm of the old Greyhound as it rolled across western Tennessee, headed for Carrey Beach, Florida. He gazed out the window as the wooded hills and lonely family farms passed by. Some of the trees were bare, but most still sported brilliant displays of autumn orange, yellow, burgundy, gold. Adam’s eyes embraced the amber glow that filled the countryside, then moved beyond the hills to the pristine blue sky.        "So beautiful!" he thought, and remembered...        A picnic. Their first, it was Constance’s idea of course. She brought a basket filled with her best cooking, a blanket for the basket, and for them. They lay on a cushioned spot and watched the clouds pass overhead. They collected leaves for pressing, and walnuts. He made love to her for the first time. She had wanted him to.        They were always passionate. When he walked into the bar in Gerard he could feel the electricity of her presence before he saw her face. And she the same.        A wedding. At the time, Adam felt that he would always be faithful to her, that there would never be another woman for him. And all she had wanted was his love.        A baby, a little son. They named him Jason. Somehow, Adam found himself with less and less time to be at home with his family. His flying began to consume his time, his energy. He forgot their wedding anniversary. He missed Jason’s first toddling steps, his first words.        Adam felt the old guilt and grief rising up again, and he couldn’t stop it. He closed his eyes, blocking out the panoramic view, and sunk within himself. He saw Constance, rocking Jason in their tiny apartment. She hummed a little song to the infant, gently stroking his hair as he slept. Strains from an old Jimmy Durante tune came from their Motorola: Make someone happy. Make just one someone happy. Constance’s eyes moved from Jason to Adam: so full of love...        In his mind’s eye Adam saw himself making a change in the familiar scene. He puts the newspaper down and sits near her. He takes the baby from her arms and lays him in his crib. He brushes a stray curl from her forehead, and kisses her. He takes her hands in his, and presses them against his cheek. . He brushes his lips across her fingers, and whispers, "Constance, I’ll always... Make just one someone happy. And you will be hap..."        "Too late!" Adam whispered, tears streaming down his face.