U.F.O. 3 Deborah A. Rorabaugh © April 15, 1997 Country of First Publication, United States of America All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. CHAPTER 1 It was the second Friday of the month, the one day each month Ed Straker refused to permit SHADO to intrude. On the second Friday, Saturday when school was on, there were no U.F.O.s screaming in from space, there was no SHADO organization, he was not on call. This was the one day each month he could genuinely say he looked forward to. This was the day British divorce court documents allowed him to visit his son. John had been pestering him for the last two months, since school broke up, for a visit to Harlington-Straker Studios. Today, after some serious consideration, Straker agreed to give his eight and a half year old son a tour of the production facilities the boy found so fascinating. The boy had no knowledge of the real reason for the studios, naturally, to hide the existence of SHADO Headquarters, eighty feet below the sets, offices and sound stages. There was a new McDonald's restaurant just a mile down the road from the studios. After the obligatory hamburgers and french fries, they spent the afternoon exploring the back lots, nooks and crannies of the film studios. They hitched a ride on an antique fire engine being moved from one area to another. John was allowed to ring the brass bell. He was delighted. So was his father. It was getting late in the day when Straker and John started back to his ex-wife's house. The house Straker had paid for and now belonged to another man, her husband of ten months. "Dad," John said. "Do I have to go home yet?" "We're already half an hour late," Straker replied. John, still full of energy even after a long day, started pushing buttons on the car's console control panel. The radio blared onto a rock station. John quickly shut it off with a careful glance at his father, as if expecting to be yelled at. Straker tried to look stern, but he couldn't. He gave John a grin instead. His son grinned back and turned the radio back on. After a little bit, Straker adjusted the station to one more to his own liking. "Nearly home, John," Straker said as the car turned onto the road to the house. John didn't answer. Straker glanced over to see his son simply looking out the window, a wistful expression on his young face. "How'd you make out with the model boat I sent you?" Straker asked, trying to break the suddenly somber mood. John's expression brightened. "I finished it." "You finished it?" Straker said in surprise. The label on the model had said it was for older children. He knew John liked model building, especially boats, so he had sent it anyway. He had supposed John would need help with it, but apparently not. The car phone buzzed. Straker flicked off the radio and picked up the handset It was Alec Freeman. SHADO was on alert. "I'll be back around six," Straker told him, checking his watch. He hung up the phone, his thoughts already switching over to SHADO and his other life. Paul Foster was at the health research center for the next two weeks. S.I.D. had another fifteen minutes of program time missing. Whoever had used the time had covered their tracks well. Major Graham hadn't been able to track it down yet and he was one of their best electronics people. It was just one of a series of annoyances waiting for him at work. "Would you like to see it?" John asked, derailing Straker's train of thought. Straker tried to recall the conversation before the phone call. "The boat, Dad," John reminded him with only the slightest touch of exasperation. "Oh, sure. Bet I do." SHADO could wait for a few more minutes. * * * SHADO's underground control center was the scene of sudden, urgent activity. Two U.F.O.s were on their way to Earth. Alec Freeman checked a readout on one of the monitors. Then, he moved over to his usual place, behind the senior control room operative at the main tracking station. "They're still maintaining course," Ford announced. "Termination?" Freeman asked. "Should be through any second," Ford answered, checking the readout on his screen. "What happened to the interceptors?" "They didn't make contact," Ford told him. "What?" "They're coming in too fast." Lieutenant Gay Ellis, Moonbase Commander, came on the video screen above Ford's tracking screen. "Moonbase to control. Speed sol 1.4." Freeman simply shook his head. The aliens were coming in way too fast. They were going to crash and SHADO was going to have to pick up the pieces. Freeman could only hope the two craft didn't crash into a heavily populated area, otherwise there'd be hell to pay. "They're changing course," Ford announced, eyes glued to the screen. Freeman leaned close over Ford's shoulder, peering at the screen for confirmation. "Correction," the operative said. "One maintaining flight path. The second," He waited for numbers to appear from the computer. "New course 042 183." "One's veered off?" Freeman repeated. It didn't make sense. Why was only one of them heading for Earth? * * * Straker's car pulled the car into the gravel driveway in front of his ex-wife's house. He noted that the house had some work done to it. There was fresh paint on the windows. The garden at the side of the house looked very nice. Mary had liked gardening. It looked like she still did. "I'll go and get the boat," John announced, climbing out of the gull-winged Omen. "Wait for me, Dad." Straker smiled and nodded. He watched as John ran up to the front door. The door opened and Mary, John's mother, stepped out onto the upper step. John ran past her, into the house. Straker climbed out of his car and simply stood beside it. "Hello, Mary," was all he could say. "Hello, Ed," she replied. Her tone was cool. "You're late." "Yes, we were having such a great time," Straker started to explain. Her expression showed she wasn't interested in explanations. "I thought an extra half hour..." He let his voice trail off. He'd blown it again. A voice came from inside the house. "Mary?" Straker recognized the voice as Steven Rutland, her new husband. Mary glanced back into the house. "Can you make it a week later next month?" she asked. "Say, the 18th?" "The 18th? Yes, that'll be fine," he agreed. He had little choice in the matter. With very little effort, she could arrange that he never see his son again. Even being C-in-C of SHADO wouldn't help. "Listen, I'd like to talk to you about John. Is he ... ?" "No, no," she interrupted. "He's fine. We're both fine." "Mary?" Rutland called again from inside the house. She turned as her husband came to the door. Steven Rutland was a heavy set man with dark hair and a full beard. Straker had a hard time understanding what Mary saw in the man. He was in construction, Straker knew that much. Security had a file on him because of his relationship with her but Straker hadn't read it. He didn't want to know more about the man than he had to. "We're all perfectly all right," Mary said. Rutland's glare said Straker's presence was no longer wanted, if it ever had been. "Johnny wanted to show me something," Straker said. Mary's expression didn't change. "I think you'd better go," she said. "I'll explain to Johnny." "Right." Straker already knew what her explanation would be. That he'd simply left, not interested enough to stay. "Goodbye, Ed," she called as he got back into his car. * * * From his upstairs bedroom, John heard the car engine start. He ran to the open window to see his father's car backing out of the driveway. "Dad?" He ran down the stairs, model boat in hand. He ducked his mother's hand as he ran through the open door after his father's car. * * * Straker's car had only moved a few car lengths when he heard the squeal of brakes behind him. He looked into the rearview mirror just in time to see a small sports car skid past the driveway. John didn't see the sports car, or if he did, it was too late. There was a sickening thud as the car's fender and headlamp caught John, throwing him to the side of the road. Straker stopped his car to look back in horrified disbelief. He watched Mary run down the driveway into the road. She screamed her son's name. Straker left his car in the middle of the road and ran back to where John lay. The glass from the shattered headlamp was strewn across the road. The driver of the car had climbed out of his vehicle. "I couldn't do a thing," he was saying. "He just came running out." "Johnny?" Mary cried.