CHAPTER 6

The room was dark. Only a few stubborn beams managed to penetrate the cracks in the thick curtains. The room looked like anything but a place where someone lived. The empty bottle rolling on the floor was the least worrisome thing. The once white walls were now an interesting piece of art. There was almost no empty space on them from all the drawings of... dolphins. From little ones to very large, of various colors and shapes, but dolphins none the less. The oddities did not end there. The whole room was filled with flower pots placed haphazardly around the room. There were a few on the bed and on the pillow even (apparently it was not in use). Everything looked as if someone had made a jungle out of this home.

An alarm reverberated around the empty room. Captain Mark Davidson came sleepily from under the bed, in full combat uniform. His eyes barely open, he began to look around with fright. He frantically dug through the jungle, searching for something. Finally he saw it and calmed down. It was not the phone. With trembling hands he took and hugged tight the little toy, as if his life depended on it. The figurine was... a dolphin.

Relieved, Mark looked at his cell phone. Surprise – on the screen prominently appeared the coded message of alert in the highest degree. He knew of its existence only in theory – as far as he recalled it meant the country’s survival was at stake. He did not think he would ever see such a level of alert but accepted the fact calmly, like a true professional. He was one of the best, or so he liked to think of himself.

His official title was officer of the National Security Agency (NSA), but de facto he performed different missions. His chief headed the Unit for Special Activities, but there was still another elite group – GSO, a group for special operations. The elite of the elite special forces, that was the definition of his work.

They were called operators, not soldiers, though the majority of their missions were purely military. Sometimes they performed subversion, murder of drug lords or inconvenient politicians – all this was included in his job description. He had long given up on leading a normal life and he had his reasons.

In fact, as a child he did not play with soldiers as the other children did. It just seemed dull to him – a meaningless game. He preferred reading books to playing outside with the neighborhood kids. His parents imagined he would become an engineer, lawyer, doctor or any other prestigious profession. His mother already had visions of the future:

“Come on, Dr. Mark, please come to the table to have dinner!” That is how she called the child and imagined the day when he was older and she was able to say it for real.

The young man could not withstand the pressure and expectations. He could not pass his exams. All his plans for the future were crushed, like the collapsing roof of an abandoned house.

So he made the decision to go into the army. He was not himself, did not want to see anyone, nor listen to anyone. All his relatives took turns to dissuade him but he would not hear them.

The army, however, was not what he had imagined. It was filled mostly with geeks and losers. People that could do nothing else, seeking a steady income. There was yet another category of people – those who were fleeing from something. Some ran from their family, others suffered unrequited love, yet others had come of their own stupidity. Few were as Mark imagined they would be – idealistic people who want to protect the life of ordinary Americans from threats known and unknown.

Mark was dedicated in his training, focused in his escape, not thinking about his mother and father. He wanted to forget it all so he practiced ’till he dropped. His stubbornness did not go unnoticed. It was not long before he was invited to apply for the elite units of the army, known as the "Green Berets". Mark agreed and of course pass the exam with high scores.

His unit was no longer in the regular army. He immediately felt the difference in stature. He was was no longer a lone warrior in terms of intelligence, fighting skills and dedication. For the first time he made friends in the army.

The actual missions were quite different from the trainings. Mark was startled by the tenacity and ferocity of their enemies. They were always sent to the hottest spots and, thus, casualties were inevitable. After losing several of his friends he decided that he no longer wanted to be friends with anyone and closed himself off again. He accepted war as a profession. Death was his companion on long nights. He was not bothered by it. He even secretly talking to Her from time to time.

Then he was spotted again. He was recruited to work for the Agency, the Special Forces Unit. Few people knew of its existence. Even fewer were those who knew what he was doing. Needless to say that everything was top secret. He received another type of training – psychology. They were engaged in activities mostly on the edge of the law and sometimes entirely beyond it.

In truth, these people did not exist. All traces of their identities were erased. They became whoever they were required to be. They enjoy a private life upto a point until they were called in. There were no limits to their tasks. They felt immortal.

Mark was getting tired and needed a rest. But not a physical rest. He needed to find himself again. He was so annoyed by his incompetent superiors, by the people who had no idea what was happening on the battlefield and sacrificed soldiers in the name of fictitious causes. And there was something else but he preferred to hide it inside and not think of it.

Mark shook the dark thoughts from his head, turning to exit his modest lodgings... and stopped. He returned to the room and opened the cupboard. His chaotically stacked clothes betrayed his total lack of vanity. He reached under a sweater and pulled out a small, slightly rusty picture frame. He watched it intently for some time, then tried to put it back again... but it slipped from his hand and the glass exploded into small pieces on the floor. Mark angrily struck the closet door and decorated it with a new indentation. In one swift move he lifted the remains and gently pulled the photograph out, then carefully placed it in his pocket. The metal frame slipped from his hand and clattered to the floor. Mark ignored it, as though nothing else existed but the rumpled picture.

***

Captain Davidson drove recklessly, defying the other cars’ horns and the profanity of their drivers. But he did not care. And this annoying song had stuck painfully in his mind - ’How I want you to stay by me...’

He arrived fairly quickly at the plant. He didn’t even feel the trip, he was busy thinking about his past and what he wanted for the future... and again this annoying melody, ’How I want you to stay by me...’

“Come on in, Mark!” his boss invited him with a feigned smile into the smoky room. “You look, um, superb. Have you been drinking again?”

“Thanks for the compliment, you are very handsome, too!” was his caustic answer. “Why am I here?”

“Charming as usual! And when was the word ‘Sir’ disappeared from your vocabulary?”

“Will you inform me what this is about or shall I go and get a morning beer... Sir?”

In truth, Mark wasn’t particularly fond of the man, nor of the cigarette smoke in his office. Both annoyed him. His boss was just like all the other politicians in Washington. Mark couldn’t stand them but it was inevitable that such people would be his superiors. That is how the political system was arranged and he accepted that. He had had enough bosses to know that these people could not be trusted. They used their connections to get appointed in office, then they did regular ’favours’ for their benefactors, and they weren’t shy to use Special Operations Group for their shady deals.

“What is it... Sir?” Mark began, looking him straight in the eye. He knew it bothered the likes of him, given Mark’s sharp features.

Mark was of medium build but his reflexes and survival instincts were notorious to Management. And his habit of staring at people made them very uncomfortable. He was also a loner, and so everyone thought of him as somewhat of a super-being about to turn into a demon. Mark laughed to himself, thinking how easy it was to scare the people standing before him.

“We have a serious problem!” His uniformed boss began.

“I exaggerated a little with the coded message but I wanted you to come as quickly as possible. I did not know which part of America you are in. It’s good that you are nearby, we must discuss the situation.”

“I’’m listening... Sir!” Mark’s stony face remained in place.

“I think you are well informed by the media about the incident with the huge asteroid that fell in North Dakota,” said his boss, finally getting to the point.

“Yes, I felt the earthquake and watched the reports on television. I can’t imagine, however, what we have to do with it? Isn’t it NASA’s job to deal with such issues?”

His boss got up and paced nervously around the room. Mark sensed that something was very wrong, but he waited patiently for the explanation. He even thought for a moment that perhaps it had to do with terrorists. It would be no surprise if they had it in mind to blow up the colossal structure, as they had done with the towers in New York. But he quickly dismissed the idea since there just wasn’t enough time to organize such a mission.

“Sorry, I was thinking of something!” he returned to the conversation with his commander.

“What we want from you is to keep track of some people!”

“Consider it done!” solemnly said the soldier, but smiled inwardly.

Everyone knew about his incredible ability to sniff out the tracks of even the most invisible people. Over the years he had managed to track down extremely difficult targets and, in most cases, to neutralize them.

“Yes, I know you’re the best.” The commander smiled. Then he was serious again.

“But it’s not what you think,” he continued, “The reason why I need you is that everything must be handled discreetly.”

The soldier raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t understand why it took so much time to give him the task.

“Mark, I want you to go to the research station at the asteroid. I arranged for you to become squad captain of the forces guarding the perimeter.

The captain smiled. This task was getting interesting. He had not imagined that one day he will again wear the special forces uniform. The Beret was hidden deep in his wardrobe and he doubted he’d ever get the occasion to put it on.

“One of your task will be to monitor closely the activities of the Russian scientists!” Finally. The crux of the matter.

“Yes, Sir!” said the soldier, “But may I ask, how did Russian scientists end up at the asteroid site in the first place?”

“They haven’t yet! But they will soon arrive. It’s simple. After the asteroid crash the whole world is pressing us to open our research to the international teams. But we know all too well that half of these so called scientists will be foreign secret agents. That is why we have been refusing so far. But even I don’t know what the Russian president has offered so that we allow their people near the site. Unfortunately, the operation is in the hands of the Pentagon and NASA, and we have very little influence there.”

“I understand. Send me the documentation” was Mark’s business-like reply as he rose from his chair.

But his boss was lost in thought as though something grave worried him. Obviously that was not all he had to say on the subject.

The captain knew he had to be patient to get more answers. He realized that he would need all the information on the task. He decided to find out up front.

“What is the other problem, Sir?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” his boss was startled.

"A moment ago you said that one of our problems is the Russians, what is the other?”

Silence filled the room.

“I think you should tell me everything there is to know!” he continue to press his boss with a piercing look.

The tension felt as if the room were getting hotter.

“What else should I know about? Nobody sends one of his best operatives just to spy on people. For that you can send anyone. Moreover, you used the code for the most serious danger threatening the very survival of our country. There is something else and I think it’s right that I know it so as to prepare for the task!”

His commander stood and stared fearfully. Mark had never seen him like that. Obviously he wanted to say something but did not know where to begin. Mark was starting to form his own suspicions. Logic led him to only one thing and he was hoping to receive an affirmative.

“It’s about the asteroid, isn’t it?” he asked directly.

The chief remained silent, staring at his feet. Then he slowly lifted his small pig eyes and wiped his sweaty forehead. He removed his glasses and looked at the agent. In a weak voice he said,

“My boy, I do not know how to tell you...”

Mark hated someone calling him "my boy." He was neither a boy, nor was he his boy. An unnerving pause followed.

“Mark, the latest information from the highest level is that the object is... not an asteroid! And to save you the question – it was not made by humans. I fear what could be inside! I’m scared to the bone, I want to be there to stop... whatever is in there!”

The captain laughed inwardly. Most of the people he had come up against had seemed like aliens but now he had a chance to meet a real one. Then he had a feeling, for the first time in many years, that he thought was long-forgotten. Very slowly, almost imperceptibly, the Fear wanted to emerge from the depths of his consciousness.