Eight: Surprises

 

 

 

DART Headquarters

Johnston Atoll

Tuesday

 

"Sir? Sir?"

Lang woke suddenly. He sat bolt upright, blinking to clear the fog from his eyes. One of the DART team stood over him, shaking his shoulder. Lang squelched a yawn and swallowed to moisten his mouth, grimacing at the foul taste on his tongue.

"Sir, we just received information from the Third Team," the private reported, standing at attention beside Lang's cot. Lang immediately snapped wide awake.

"Where?" he asked.

"Radio shack, sir."

"What time is it?"

"Twelve hundred hours local, sir."

Twelve noon local? That meant twenty two hundred hours, Eastern Standard Time--ten o'clock at night in New York. Lang rotated himself out of his bed, ignoring the creases left in his uniform by his nap, and left his office. He wended his way around the other cubicles and tables crowding the cavernous DART building towards the one corner filled with communications equipment, now hidden by a crowd of DART members. He coughed loudly and the crowd opened to admit him. The two communications technicians sitting in front of the panoply of computer terminals were grinning as one handed Lang a short slip of paper.

Lang read the brief message, then turned on his heel. He looked up to find himself surrounded by a sea of bodies.

"Do you people have anything better to do?" he snapped. The crowd scattered. Lang clenched the piece of paper in his hand and turned back to the two communications specialists.

"Break into the LYCOMING database," he ordered. "Get a current name and street address for tax returns on these two social security numbers."

LYCOMING was the main information database for the Internal Revenue Service. As such it furnished detailed information on anyone who was listed on the United States' tax rolls to interested government parties with the correct access codes, and DART was one of the agencies with access to the system. It was only a matter of moments before the operator established a connection to the government database via modem.

Lang looked at the clocks on the wall. Thinking about modems make his headache return despite his four-hour nap. NORAD's planned relocation of the satellite needed for realtime downloading of the data compiled by the Photographic Reconnaissance Office from the KF-11 domestic surveillance vehicle ran into an objection by some general in the Pentagon--it was needed for a joint wargames simulation in Japan--and DART did not have the clout necessary to override the objection. The idea of borrowing one of the nuke sub laser communication satellites from the Navy was met with an icy reception by Lang's superior Viscount, and as a result DART was working without a direct connection to its sources of information. The inferior telephone system had to be pressed into service instead and the arrival of the information from PRO had been exasperatingly slow; to make matters worse, all of Johnston Atoll's telephone traffic was routed through Hawaii and their lines got screwed up twice in the last twenty four hours, negating almost two hours of data which had to be retransmitted. Nevertheless, Lang had three of his operatives working in shifts around the clock, viewing and cataloging all the pictures and data being sent to them.

Lang watched carefully as the internet connection was made. A series of displays flashed across the computer screen while the technician tapped quickly on his keyboard. It seemed to Lang that time was crawling yet only six minutes elapsed between his request and the resulting readout of the information he needed. The technician pressed a key and the printer chattered to life. Lang seized the paper as it scrolled out and tore it, too quickly. The ragged edge of the paper jammed in the printer. Lang ignored the machine's whine of protest and read the slip of paper in his hand.

Lang walked towards the Logistics section.

"I want a city street map of Minneapolis-St. Paul," he said. The sergeant who rose to attention at his approach turned and opened one of the file drawers of the immense map cabinet behind him. Lang tapped his foot impatiently as the proper map was found and spread on the table before him. Lang looked at the map, craning his head. His frown deepened.

"Find me this address," he snapped, handing the slip of paper to the sergeant. His subordinate looked at the number and name of the street then bent to the map, running his fingers over its surface.

"Come on, come on," Lang growled.

"Found it, sir," the sergeant suddenly said. He pointed to a crossroads on the map in a shaded area. "Nicolett Avenue and 138th Street, Burnsville. Nearest military base--Fort Snelling, sir. The Minneapolis-St. Paul International Airport is within the borders of the base. From there to target is…six and a half miles, sir."

Lang's brief, wintry smile crossed his face. He spun on his heel.

"First Team! Second Team!" he called out. Eight people broke out of the crowd around him. "Saddle up. We're heading for Minneapolis. We will need one restraint pack."

As the teams broke up to prepare for their new mission Lang felt a hand touch his elbow. He turned to see the DART medical supervisor with the remainder of the printout from the jammed printer in his hand and a worried look on his face.

"Sir, this Nancy Burke has a husband and two children," he said. "You will need another restraint package at least."

Lang's piercing stare cut the medical officer off short.

"What makes you think I care about the ancillary subjects who might happen to be in the way?"

"But, sir--"

"Fuck them," Lang snapped. "I suggest that you get back to your original task of finding a way to restrain the target when we find her, Major."

He led his teams out the door to the tarmac, where their ready transport was being belatedly warmed up. Lang sighed. Having his orders questioned was a bad sign. The duration of the Paradigm Cordon was the cause, he thought. The careful, detailed analyses made of every possible scenario which could have called for a Cordon had found no situation which could not be fully resolved within twenty-four hours and all of the training and preparation was with that time frame in mind. This Cordon was now over seventy-two hours old and the strain was beginning to tell. With no replacement group for the Cordon available Lang needed to wrap this operation up quickly. He looked up at the sun overhead and felt the warm breeze as he rode with his team to the tarmac. It was going to be a good day, he thought.

 

The Carter Residence

Polk County, North Carolina

Ellie lay in her bed. She shifted herself carefully so as not to disarrange the two blankets that covered her. Her futon now ended at mid-calf when she straightened herself and her second silk blanket had to be pressed into service to cover the rest of her legs. Ellie lay on her side, facing her lover. Steve was on his back, head turned away from her. He coughed fitfully in his sleep and Ellie reached out to rub his chest.

"Shhh, now," she whispered. Steve sighed and fell into a deeper sleep. Ellie could feel his chest rise and fall with each breath. Her hand was now large enough to overlap his body at his shoulders. His skin was dry and warm to her touch--a slight fever, perhaps. Ellie recalled all the events that had happened during this very long day and smiled.

Although he had refused to admit it their adventure this morning at the lake had taken more out of him than he realized. After their remarkable interview with Sheriff Thompson he had joined her for supper, sitting cross-legged as before on her table in the solarium. Hadad somehow fixed just the right amount of food for her, though by what alchemy Ellie could not imagine. While she had made a dainty meal of two whole chickens, pots of whipped potatoes and mixed vegetables and the two fresh loaves of bread (ignoring how child-sized all her formerly large eating utensils seemed) Steve barely picked at his food. Professor Odegard and Doctor Canfield arrived at mid-dessert. Odegard was pale, unshaven and gaunt, the alien orb carefully packed in a case under his arm. He dejectedly reported no success in plumbing the artifact's mysteries.

"It is possibly the most inert object I've ever examined," he had said. "I used every possible means I could think of to try to penetrate its surface. It is impervious to light, x-rays, and magnetic scans. I then tried to break through the surface inside with mechanical tools, to no effect. Power drills, diamond-tipped cutters, high-pressure water--didn't even scratch its surface. I then tried to crack it, thinking perhaps if I had a sample of its material I could analyze it more easily. Nothing worked--not the shop metal press, or high intensity sound on any frequency I could generate, or even the macro-emission cutting laser the techs there told me could cut through three-quarter inch steel like a sharp knife through bread--nothing worked. I even tried placing it in a vacuum, baking it in a kiln and freezing it in liquid nitrogen. Nothing. I haven't given up, though," he hastened to add, seeing Ellie's downcast expression. "No, I just brought it back here to keep it secure."

"I dragged him out of the lab," Canfield admitted. "I'm afraid my dearest will work on something like this until he drops."

Odegard managed a wan smile. "Joann hauled me out the door, saying something about vending machine food being bad for me--good thing there are no vending machines at the lab. I'll sleep on the problem tonight and come back to work more on it tomorrow. Don't give up hope, Ellie. I'll solve it for you if it's the last thing I do."

"I heard what you did for those children on the lake today," Canfield said. "You go, girl. That was a brave and wonderful thing you did."

"Thank you," Ellie replied. "Dr. Canfield, I'm glad you're here. It's not me, I'm fine. Steve got burned in the fire."

"I'm all right," Steve said. He closed his mouth with an audible snap as Ellie cast a firm eye on him. She held out her hands and waited for Steve to rise to his feet, then lifted him and put him on the floor before Canfield. Ellie gasped as Canfield unwound the last of the gauze from Steve's hands--the white bandage was stained pink. Canfield looked carefully at the bright red sheen of the skin on Steve's hands, then at Steve.

"I see we're a tough guy," she said, a sarcastic edge to her voice. Steve winced as she touched his skin. "Major first degree burns, almost second degree. Not too smart, Steven. You should have come to the hospital. Well, at least it's a good job of cleaning and dressing."

"Miss Andersen did that," Hadad interjected. Canfield nodded.

"I'll be right back," she said, and turned on her heel, heading through the inner portal to the house. Odegard had put on his half-glasses and peered through them at Steve's appendages.

"Steven, that has got to hurt. You stuck your hands in the fire."

"It was the only way I could get the kid piloting the boat away from the engine coaming." Steve admitted, shrugging. A giant hand came down and gently ruffled his hair. He looked up at Ellie, whose expression was a mix of admiration and concern.

"Too bad there isn't a way to keep you from taking risks," she said softly, smiling to ease her taunt. Steve reached up and grabbed her hand with his own, then let go, grunting in pain. Ellie made a small sound in her throat and slipped from her box-chair, her knees thumping the underside of her table. She kneeled over him and bent to apply a kiss to his head.

"Don't ever change, Steve," she said into his ear. He craned his head to smile and silently say "thank you" to her. Canfield returned, bearing a traditional doctor's bag. Steve suddenly broke into another paroxysm of coughing. Canfield fixed him with her 'professional' gaze.

"By all rights I should be dragging you to the hospital," she said. "Now, let's reapply something to those hands and check the rest of you out."

Canfield deftly applied a different ointment to Steve's hands then rummaged inside the bag and retrieved two cotton gloves. She promptly mutilated the fingertips of the gloves and wormed them on Steve's hands, then drew out a stethoscope and listened to his chest and back.

"Smoke inhalation," she announced softly. "Possibly inhalation of superheated air as well. Steven, you need rest. The burns should heal well by themselves over the next week, and that cough should ease in a couple of days. My prescription is rest, fluids, these antibiotics--" she looked uncertain until Ellie lowered an outstretched palm. Canfield smiled and put the small cardboard box in her hand-- "and some cough medicine that I have here--" and she handed Ellie a small bottle. "Now, I'll write you another prescription and call it in to my hospital pharmacy. Mr. Hadad can come over tomorrow morning and pick it up. I will return here tomorrow afternoon to replace the dressing. Ellie, Mr. Hadad, please see that Steven does not do a thing for the next couple of days."

"Of course, Doctor," Hadad replied.

"No problem, Joann," Ellie added.

"Now wait a minute. Don’t I have a say in this?" Steve demanded. Canfield pinned him with a glare.

"Don't you sass me, boy. If I hear you're doing anything around this place tomorrow I'll personally come over here and sit on you."

"But, Doc, you've got your own schedule--"

"Steven, you're my patient, too. That's final."

Ellie began giggling. Odegard regarded his wife with a fond expression and Hadad was smiling from his corner. Steve turned in a circle, looking around (and up) at the people surrounding him.

"Now, look here. I am in my own home. It's just a little burn and smoke, after all--erk!"

Ellie seized Steve, lifting him into her lap. She settled him on her thigh and looked down at him, her lips curved into a gentle smile. He glared up at her.

"Just because you're bigger than me doesn’t mean you can boss me around--" he began. Ellie bent to kiss his cheek, her unbound hair slipping over her shoulder and cascading over him. His flow of words stopped.

"Oh, yes I can, Steven Carter," Ellie whispered in a low voice.

"Come on, dearest, now I'm going to attend to you," Canfield said, abruptly seizing Odegard by the arm and dragging him towards the front door.

"Good night," Odegard called over his shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll be back tomorrow." His wife released her hold on his arm just long enough to wave at Steve and Ellie then continued to steer Odegard towards the front entrance. Hadad leaped in front of them to see them out.

Ellie lifted Steve to his feet to kiss him. He wrapped his arms along her jawline, kissing and licking her soft, inch-thick lips. Ellie leaned forward, her eyes closed, her concentration focused on the sensation of what Steve's lips and tongue were doing to her mouth. She felt an overwhelming need to hold him in her arms and suited action to thought.

"Oof," he grunted, his arms across her front to the points of her shoulders. He grasped her, ignoring the pain in his hands. "You feel good. Smell good, too."

"I do?"

"Yes, indeed. Soft and warm, and--" he sniffed-- "very pleasant."

Ellie craned her head back to look at Steve as he planted a kiss in the hollow of her throat. His hands slipped from her shoulders to caress her breasts. He looked up at her, his lopsided grin back on his face.

"A little squishy, though," he said. Ellie pretended shock.

"Oh?"

"Yep. Warm there, too, if my trip home this morning was any judge."

Ellie engulfed him in another hug, squeezing him into her cleavage.

"They're all yours, lover. No one else's," she whispered.

"Good, 'cause I don't want to share you with anybody else," Steve replied. "I want you all to myself."

"There's more than enough of me to go around," Ellie replied, a little self-consciously.

"More to have, more to love," Steve replied. Ellie's smile broadened.

"Steve?"

"Hmmm?"

"Thank you." Ellie rubbed her chin on his head and squeezed him in her arms. She began to rock slowly back and forth, petting and caressing him with one hand.

"My wonderful Steve," she whispered. "I do love you so."

She emphasized her last words with a stronger squeeze. Steve grunted and Ellie heard a soft pop. Her eyes flew open in surprise and alarm and she almost dropped him.

"Oh, God. Steve, did I hurt you? I was too strong. Did I hurt--"

"No, no. You didn't hurt me at all, pretty lady," Steve responded, raising one gloved hand to still her lips. Ellie blew out her lips with relief. Steve grinned.

"Though I will admit a better chiropractic I've never experienced," he said. "In fact, it was the only chiropractic I've ever experienced."

"Oh, you!" Ellie snorted, the wind of her breath ruffling his hair.

"Ahem." Ellie and Steve both started at Hadad's interruption. Ellie looked up and saw Hadad standing in the frame of the main door, his eyes wide, a small smile on his face. Ellie released Steve and placed him on the solarium floor. Ellie noticed faint footprints on the front of her dress from holding Steve on her thigh. She brushed the marks away.

"May I suggest it is getting a little late in the evening, Mr. Carter," Hadad said, bowing slightly. "Since you are under doctor's orders to rest, I imagine an early retirement would be appropriate tonight."

"At least let us have an after-supper drink. I need something to wash down these horse pills Doc Canfield left," Steve objected.

"It should help you sleep," Hadad agreed.

Ellie had followed Hadad and Steve, dropping to her hands and knees to fit under the tall door to the living room. She felt a shiver of claustrophobia in the confinement of the anteroom and brushed it away.

"We still haven't discussed where we're going tomorrow," Steve said over his shoulder to Ellie.

"Steve, you can't be serious," Ellie replied as she entered the cavernous living area and stood to her full height. "You can't fly that airplane with your hands bandaged like that, can you?"

"I'll manage," Steve replied with typical optimism.

"Mr. Carter, I must agree with Miss Andersen," Hadad spoke up as he walked towards the library bar. "It would be unwise for you to operate an airplane injured."

Steve smiled a little, his expression tired. "Ellie needs to get outside these borders, Brian," he replied. "It's only a matter of time before she's discovered here. Even Thompson's promise that he would not report her presence isn't a guarantee that we can just stay here unmolested."

"Yes, of course, sir," Hadad replied. "However, it would be prudent to allow yourself one more day."

"Steve, he's right. Give yourself a day at least to recuperate," Ellie agreed, bending to touch Steve's shoulder. Steve looked up at her touch, then looked at Hadad's serious expression. He smiled.

"You're right, of course," he admitted. A spasm of coughing robbed him of breath momentarily. "I'm just worried about you, Ellie. Still, where shall we go first? Hokkaido? Alice Springs? I'm not so sure about Bahrain, even if I do know the Sultan's fourth son personally. Alice Springs might be the best bet--it's just summer down there and the weather will be perfect." He motioned Ellie down to her hands and knees. "I can't wait to see you in a bikini," he whispered.

"Steve!" Ellie stood up, blushing hotly. She planted her hands on her hips. "You are incorrigible--"

"Okay. Well then, how about Hokkaido? It's full winter in northern Japan. I could contract with the shop people to build you a set of skis and we can shoosh and plotz down the mountains there."

"I don’t know how to ski," Ellie said, smiling in disbelief. Steve shrugged.

"Neither do I. Good time to learn."

Ellie had slowly seated herself on the living room floor as Steve offered one travel plan after another, each more outrageous than the previous one. Hadad had slipped into and out of the room, retrieving a thermos of hot water. He opened the library bar and began mixing hot drinks. Hadad placed Ellie's flower-vase and Steve's smaller rocks glass on a serving tray and hefted it over to where they sat.

"Alice Springs, then," Steve had said after nearly an hour. "My ranch is perfect. There's a nice, big pond on the property to take cool dips in during the day. The sunsets there are spectacular."

Ellie had smiled and nodded her assent. She had caught Steve's enthusiasm and actually began to feel a sense of anticipation at their impending trip. She half-stretched herself out on the floor beside the couch, facing the fire, caressing Steve's back. Hadad had discreetly left the room after serving them their drinks, his shadow slipping back and forth from the upstairs rooms towards Ellie's tent-bedroom. Ellie had never tasted hot buttered rum before--drinking on the job at the bar was not allowed, and her tastes and finances previously restricted her to the occasional beer--and the drinks Hadad had prepared had just enough bite to give the drinker a warm glow.

"It was just five days ago," she said softly, watching the embers of the fire in the fireplace sputter and sparkle. Steve had finished his drink and leaned into her hand.

"Hmm?"

"Just five days ago I was waitressing in a bar, trying to get the money together to go back to college. Five days later I'm having the most amazing experience I could imagine."

Steve smiled but said nothing. He turned and kissed Ellie's soft, warm palm. She turned and looked down on him, a small smile lighting her face.

"In just five days I met the most wonderful man ever. I had a close encounter and I-I began to grow into a giantess. It's all a little--"

"Frightening?" Steve finished, looking up at Ellie's troubled expression. Ellie nodded.

"Yes."

"Like I told you before, Ellie, you're a very special person. You're a good person. Kind. Beautiful. You're a special woman whose been given a special gift." Steve rubbed his stubble against her palm. His eyes began to twinkle and his lopsided grin returned. "Anyway, they'll be making television specials about you one day. 'Eleanor Andersen's Amazing Adventures!' See her do amazing things! Watch her eat her dinner! See her walk through her garden! You'll be famous and do shaving ads and stuff."

Ellie had been torn between distress and amusement at Steve's stentorian predictions.

"You sound like that TV announcer, Don Pardo," she said. "Or Rod Serling." Christ knows he could probably write the script of my life for the last five days, she thought.

"It's funny, I never watched much TV when I was growing up," Steve replied, chuckling. "Pop and Mom always wanted me to hit the books. Thank God for that." He rose from his seat and reached out his arms to Ellie. She obligingly lifted him up until their faces were level with each other.

"Ellie, I love you," he said softly, reaching out with one gloved hand to tweak her chin. "I won't care if you are never famous. I don't care if you are--" he looked her up and down-- "well, however tall you are now, or grow to twice this size. I just hope that you will never leave me."

His admission of his love for her melted Ellie's heart. She brought him close and kissed him. His lips tasted of rum and butter, and she smiled.

"I will never leave you, lover," she replied. She cocked her head at him. "You look tired. Let's go to bed."

"Okay by me. I am tired, for once. I hope you don’t mind--"

Ellie chuckled. "I'll live without it for one night--but only one," she replied, her smile broad. She licked at him once, his stubble rasping her tongue. He tried mouthing her tongue but settled for a long, passionate kiss instead.

"But will I?" Steve sighed as they parted. "Gotta get well fast."

Ellie experienced another surprise as they had prepared for bed. As he had done every morning since she arrived Hadad had straightened up her tent-bedroom and shower area. Ellie appreciated the fresh sheets on her bed mat and the washed neatness of her towels and clothes, although the idea of Hadad handling her intimate things was disconcerting. This time he had added Steve's bedclothes to the items neatly folded atop the blankets. Steve also noticed the change in his arrangements.

"Brian's the best," he had said, grinning as Ellie carried him into her tent.

Ellie put aside her memories of the day in the darkness of her tent-bedroom and gently stroked her lover's chest. Steve's breathing was slow and deep. He reached out in his sleep and wrapped his arms around Ellie's hand, neatly trapping it to his torso. Ellie smiled, and gulped to try to ease the lump in her throat. He was one in a million--no, probably several million, she thought. She sighed, then paused, looking down at herself. Her silk nightdress, which had been loosely comfortable and hung to the ground two days ago, was now form-fitting, hugging her shoulders and hips, squeezing her bosom. The hem had stopped at mid-thigh when she slipped it on tonight and she had to remove its translucent silk front to fit her head through the neck hole. Even with every expansion panel released her body pressed against the flexible fabric at each breath almost to the point of discomfort--a discomfort she had felt increase over the one hour since she had slipped the dress on. Tonight would be the last night she would be able to wear the dress. Ellie peered over Steve at the packing crate-turned impromptu nightstand she had placed beside her bed. Her watch read ten thirty p.m. She was now exactly twenty five feet tall. And she was still growing.

 

WKZZ-TV

Asheville, North Carolina

Martin Romita peered through bleary brown eyes at the clock sitting on her cluttered desk. Ten-thirty. Another near-all-nighter with little to show for it, and his dream of running an independent cable channel was rapidly approaching its end. Romita ran his hand through his permed black hair and tried to focus on the paperwork scattered in front of him, without success. No matter how he tried to juggle numbers, the final tally was simple: he had another month's operating capital, then the station was dead. A knock at his door summoned him from his sour introspection and he looked up to see his right-hand woman and partner, Karen Stiller, framed in his doorway.

"Martin, I've got something I think you ought to see," she said, her round, fair face wreathed with excitement. Romita pushed himself away from his desk and followed Stiller to her small cubbyhole of an office.

Two visitors sat on the only chairs in Stiller's office. Romita looked them over carefully. Both were dressed like hikers, with heavy sweatshirts, shorts, knee-length socks and heavy-soled boots. Two backpacks blocked Stiller's file cabinet. The odor of exercised, unwashed bodies filled the room, making Romita wince. Both hikers were male and about Stiller's age.

"Martin, I'd like you to meet Solomon and Ray," Stiller announced. "Solomon and I lived in the same neighborhood in Columbus. They were out hiking this morning and saw something very unusual. They had a camcorder with them and took pictures of it. I think you might want to see it."

As if to confirm her description the hiker called Solomon produced a small VHS camcorder and waved it in the air. Romita noticed both hikers were very excited, almost euphoric about something. Well, it beat staring at spreadsheets.

"Okay, Karen, let's see it."

Stiller had squirreled herself behind her desk and reached out to a side table and the video tape player standing there. She thumbed the REWIND button, watched the counter for a moment, then pressed STOP, then PLAY. The monitor above the VCR flashed into life. The scenery was typical of this local area of North Carolina--depressing pine barrens relieved by a scattering of deciduous trees and shrubs. The owner of the camera was trudging up a mountain trail, but the picture was remarkably steady. Electronic motion-damping, no doubt. The picture jumped to the two men making heroic poses atop a slab of rock with one of the innumerable local hills in the background. Romita sighed--pictures of the local scenery were not terribly exciting--

The picture changed again. There was a boat, some kind of party boat to judge from the awning over its hull. It was on fire. Clouds of black smoke were billowing out from the rear of the boat and washing over its passengers, who began to abandon ship. The image zoomed in for a close-up (automatic focus, too, thought Romita—nice) and Romita could see that the passengers were small children.

"You guys got pictures of the boat fire on the reservoir today--" he began. Both Stiller and the one hiker named Solomon suddenly jabbed their fingers at the screen. "There she is!" Solomon intoned excitedly.

Romita looked on the screen. A woman suddenly appeared out of the smoke, swimming in the water. No, not swimming--she was too still for that. She was saying something but the sound was muddy. Then she reached out and lifted a child clear of the water--with one hand.

"What the--" Romita sputtered, his stomach doing flip-flops. The camera image zoomed out and in again, making the picture jump and go out of focus momentarily, then the image shook. Romita's mouth fell open.

"That is the boat?--" he said uncertainly. He blinked. Stiller looked at Romita's expression then reached out and stilled the image. Romita looked at the still frame, then suddenly straightened and grinned tiredly at the occupants of Stiller's office.

"Okay, Karen, you know I'm not in a joking mood this late at night--"

"Martin, this is no joke," Stiller replied, thumbing the STOP switch. The two hikers nodded their heads vigorously.

"No sir," the one called Ray said. "This is the God's honest truth. We saw it out there today and Sol filmed it. We kept rewinding it to see if it was real ourselves--"

"Damn near wore out the camera--" Solomon interrupted.

"--and we figured we had to do something with the tape--"

"--I remembered Karen here worked for a cable news station--"

"--so we hiked back to my car and drove here right away!"

"--even got a traffic ticket for speeding!"

Romita looked from one face to another. Both men and Karen were utterly serious and very excited.

"Karen, this thing looks like some home sci-fi movie," Romita began.

"I don't think so," Stiller replied confidently. Solomon shook his head.

"Man, this was real, totally real!"

"Look at the film carefully, Martin," Stiller said, her expression earnest, her eyes sparkling. "The next few pictures are even more convincing."

She turned the film back on. Romita watched for another five minutes. He stumbled over the legs of the two hikers to reach the VCR's controls and stabbed the REWIND button. Romita watched the tape counter reverse, then stopped and played the tape again, watching the entire sequence. He remembered to breathe when he felt himself going faint from a lack of air. He turned to the two hikers.

"Karen, draw up a contract. Gents, I'll give you a thousand dollars for that tape."

Both hikers still appeared stunned. Solomon nodded automatically. Romita half-stumbled from Stiller's office and jogged down the hallway to his own. When he returned to her office, check in hand, he found that none of the occupants had changed position at all. He quickly learned Solomon's last name, scribbled it out on the payee line of the check, and thrust it into the hiker's flaccid hand. Stiller had already rewound the tape and was duplicating it onto another, studio-quality one. Romita's rushed good-byes were barely civil. He legged it back into his office and snatched the rolodex from his desk, thumbing feverishly through the letters. He looked at his watch: eleven p.m. His old chum who was one of the producers of the First Access Today! show should just be arriving home on the west coast. Martin Romita smelled a big story, in more ways than one--and he was going to be right there as it happened.

 

The Minneapolis International Airport/

Fort Snelling Army Base

Minneapolis, Minnesota

Wednesday

Lang felt the Gulfstream bank again. He gripped at the armrests of his seat, trying to still his queasy stomach. He and the eight members of his First and Second teams had been flying for almost twelve hours now, with a thirty-minute stopover at Edwards Air Force Base for refueling, passing through seven time zones in the process. He had been too keyed up to sleep. The anticipation of the completion of this Paradigm Cordon and the vindication of his DART organization excited him. If only the idiots flying this airplane would get it down they could make real progress in lassoing that giant, big-titted bitch and putting her someplace safe--like in an industrial-sized oven. The aircraft bucked again, then banked more steeply. Lang scrambled from his seat and walked into the cockpit.

"Is it possible you can get this goddamned airplane down today?" he snapped at the two pilots.

"Sorry, sir," one pilot replied. "The weather's gotten bad since we passed Denver. All the airplanes trying to get into Minneapolis are stacked upstairs. We should be down in ten minutes."

Lang nodded and returned to the main cabin. The eight members of his team were preparing for the upcoming mission. All had dressed in the black outfits typically worn by modern-day SWAT-type police units. One had SHERIFF printed across the back of his vest in bold yellow letters, another POLICE, a third a stencil of a large marshal's badge. No one wore any identifying name tags or tapes on any part of their clothing. The medic was checking his dart pistol and cartridges, ready to quiet the target in question. All the others were strapping on small arms--Heckler and Koch Model 94 submachine guns, Beretta autopistols, pepper spray, handcuffs, restraints, billy clubs. Lang nodded in satisfaction and removed his uniform coat to don a thick black jacket, belting a HK-USP40 ten-millimeter autopistol around his waist.

"We're on final, sir," one of the pilots shouted back.

"Good," Lang shouted back. "Make sure we taxi to the Snelling Base junction. Our transport will be waiting for us there. Fuel up and stay running, we'll be back within two hours."

"Yessir."

Once on the ground the airplane seemed to taxi interminably. Lang tried to pace to work off his adrenaline-based energy but the cabin was too full of personnel and equipment to allow him to get into the swing of a comfortable walk. Suddenly the plane jerked to a halt, and one of the pilots left the cockpit, striding towards the front hatch.

Lang almost elbowed the pilot aside as he opened the door. A blast of frigid air and a thick flurry of snowflakes pushed him back into the cabin. He squinted at the dark, overcast sky. The small aluminum plane ladder had been extended by the aircrew and had just finished folding to the ground. Lang hurried to turn and step down the slippery rungs of the ladder. His team, encumbered by equipment, followed. He stamped his feet on the snow-covered asphalt of the tarmac and looked about. Sure enough, three Humvees were waiting in the falling snow. The passengers of the two nearest vehicles stepped out and walked toward Lang, saluting.

"Colonel Lang? Sir, the transportation you ordered is here," one of the soldiers said. "Do you need a driver?"

Lang returned the salutes absently. "No, I have my own. Are all the markings on those hummers removed?"

"Yes sir. As per your orders," one soldier replied. Lang nodded.

"You can leave now. We will return the vehicles within two--" he looked up at the sky again-- "make that three hours."

The soldiers saluted again. Lang watched impatiently as his team members clambered down the boarding ladder with their gear.

"First team, with me in the front car. Second team, second car. We do it exactly as planned. Let's go."

Inside the hard top of the Humvee it was pleasantly warm. Lang rubbed his hands as his teams stuffed themselves into the vehicles. The driver assigned to his Humvee took the wheel and began to steer his way from the airport area, driving confidently into the base. The snow was falling thickly, blanketing the area, hiding the boundaries of the roads. Lang peered through the windscreen. Snow was something he had not anticipated. He should have. It was November in Minnesota, after all. Still, with 4-wheel drive vehicles they should have little difficulty in getting to and from this Burnsville.

Once out onto Route 494 heading west, they encountered more traffic than Lang expected for ten o'clock in the morning. The team drivers obeyed his mission orders, keeping a steady and sedate pace over the snow-slick highway. While passing a highway exit Lang noted the exit number. He realized they were falling behind the careful schedule he had drawn.

"Go faster," he ordered shortly. The driver nodded and pressed down more firmly on the pedal. The two Humvees drew out of the middle lane of highway traffic into the left, passing the slower-driven civilian cars, dodging around eighteen-wheelers. Lang watched the hands of his watch circle all too quickly around the dial as the driver, relying on his memory of the maps they had all studied, turned onto Route 35W, heading for Burnsville. They passed through the Minnesota Valley National Wildlife Reserve, heading into Dakota county.

Another thirty minutes found them on 138th Street, approaching Nicolette Avenue. Here they slowed while the two drivers searched for street numbers. The area was densely packed with multifamily homes. Lang frowned out the window until the driver called his attention with a word.

"There, sir," he intoned softly. Lang looked and saw the house number of the brick, two-family home.

"Okay," he said crisply. "Let's go."

The eight DART operatives spilled out of the Humvees. Lang issued orders quickly. His Alpha Team raced to the bottom-level residence door while Team Bravo raced up to the upstairs residence. The racket of shotgun blasts echoed and re-echoed as each team shot off the hinges of the front doors and then rushed into each home. Lang, his hood pulled up over his head, looked around, then walked more sedately in the tracks of the Alpha Team, heading for the Burke residence. Even as he approached the ruined front door he knew the capture was going to be a failure--snow lay calf-deep on the steps leading up to the house and all the windows were dark. The sound of gunshots in the upstairs residence told him it was occupied and the occupant had offered resistance to Team Bravo. He shrugged and struggled around the door into the Burke home.

The condition of the interior of the home confirmed his fears. It was cool inside, perhaps only fifty degrees or so, unlit and empty. Every room was neat as a pin, including the two children's room. The refrigerator was almost empty. Lang spoke no word as he looked around the house the Alpha Team had secured, then he went back outside, noting the sudden movements of curtains and blinds in the windows of the buildings opposite the Burke house. He stepped into the hallway leading to the upstairs residence.

In the upstairs apartment it was chaos. Lang almost stumbled over the body of a twentysomething-male Hispanic dotted with bloody bullet holes. Team Bravo was milling around the only other occupant of the home, a short heavyset woman--probably the dead man's mother. She was on her knees with two team members holding her down, writhing and screaming in pain and grief and fear. It was a nerve-jarring sound.

Lang pushed his way through his team members and snatched up the screamer's hair, half-hauling her to her feet. He thrust has face into hers.

"Where are the Burkes?" he grated.

"You killed my son! You killed my boy! You killed--"

Lang unholstered his gun and smashed into her mouth, knocking out some of her teeth. The woman's eyed mirrored terror. Lang jammed the gun deep into her mouth, silencing her.

"Where are the Burkes?" he repeated. The woman's eyes were filled with tears of pain. Lang gripped her hair more firmly and began tugging her head from side to side, his gun's slide rapping against her remaining teeth.

"Tell me where they are or you join your boy," he hissed. She squinted her eyes in agony and tried to talk around the gun. Lang withdrew it.

"They are in Cancún. Vacation," she gasped.

Lang stood erect, a handful of the woman's hair still in his hand. Vacation. They had to be on vacation. In November. November? School's in. Did they take the children out of school with them? He leaned back into the woman's face.

"Where are the children?"

The woman's eyes grew wider. Lang yanked upward with all his strength, pulling the skin of her face taut.

"WHERE!"

"They-they're with relative--uncle, in Apple Valley--" the woman moaned. Lang lost control of his expression. She blenched at the naked fury on his face and began to whimper and pray. Lang looked at her as she folded her hands and began to babble in spanish. Loosing her hair he grabbed the slide of his gun and worked the action to load a round in the chamber. He pointed down and fired. The deafening bang of the gun was followed by tinny, high pitched mewling. The woman dropped, grabbing at her leg.

"Retreat," Lang said shortly. The entire Team moved as one, rushing back down the stairs and out the front door. Lang repeated his order more loudly and the other Team spilled out of the Burke residence. Lang could hear sirens wailing in the distance, growing louder. He joined his teams in the Humvees and they roared out of the neighborhood, heading down the prearranged escape route.

Once on Route 35E Lang allowed himself to think about DART and the Paradigm Cordon he was responsible for. It was rapidly becoming a total disaster. The operation should have been simple--was simple. They should have listened to him five years ago when he insisted the Utah site be maintained--the amazon would be safely contained and ready for removal from the face of the earth by now if it had been kept open. Bringing in that idiot Turner was an even bigger disaster--the operation should have been kept strictly military. And the man called "Steve": Lang privately swore there would be a reckoning with whoever that man was--his brave, dangerous, illegal rescue the growing woman was the one act that completely upset the Cordon's apple cart. By all rights she still should be at Brooks AFB, squeezed into that P-5 treatment room--where, he thought, she should have been left until her growing body crushed itself in the confines of the room.

Lang allowed his imagination full play for a moment, visualizing the woman screaming in agony as her spine and limbs broke against the massive concrete walls of the lab. He shook his head. At (he looked at his watch) eleven-thirty hours local time she should be just over twenty-seven feet tall. There was no doubt in Lang's mind she still lived, and was still growing. Both he and his teams needed to regroup. He urged greater speed and the two Humvees began weaving around the other traffic, leaving two fender-benders in their wake, heading back to the Minneapolis International Airport and their waiting plane.

 

DART Headquarters

Johnston Atoll

The endless chain of pictures scrolling down the computer terminal was making the DART operative wince and yawn. He reached across his body to move the workstation's mouse--his other arm was in plaster--and he clicked the taskbar to bring up the next picture. The heavy air conditioning in the Quonset hut made his arm ache--both forearm bones were broken in at least two places by that goddamned oversized titfest of a broad--and his current assignment was both boring and unproductive. He was a highly trained, action-oriented soldier, not some half-assed file clerk. Volunteering for DART was supposed to mean excitement, danger, exotic operations like the much vaunted and talked about Paradigm Cordon--not sitting in some World War II-era hut on some boring island looking at one silly satellite picture after another.

He thought back to that huge, beautiful woman. Goddamn but her tits had been big--easily an G-sized cup or better, so round and perfect, without the slightest hint of sag, with perfectly dark aureoles and wonderfully broad nipples. His latest girlfriend had a terrific set of D cups but her tits fell halfway to her navel when he pulled her bra off her. That giant woman didn't have that problem, he thought.

He sighed, moved his broken arm to ease the ache within it--no painkillers for this action man!--and tapped the mouse button again, yawning. He pressed too hard. One picture jumped on screen followed by another. Eyes squinted by his yawn, the DART operative didn't see it. He rotated is head on his neck to ease the cramping there and returned to viewing the pictures. He glanced at the caption beneath the current picture and sighed again. From the coordinates it was somewhere in North or South Carolina, he judged. Nice area, if a bit boring. Too many bible-thumpers and other hicks, and those anti-government militia goons, too--too bad their mission couldn't let them kick some of those people's asses. There was no action anywhere, right now, he reflected. Maybe this DART thing was just a lot of hooey. In that case, he wanted his money back.

 

The Carter Residence

Polk County, North Carolina

Ellie bent down after snugging her sweatpants over her hips and turned her feet this way and that. Her new shoes looked like covered sandals with a high roll-up edge around the soles. The sandals were made of a rubber compound similar to that used for making tires (she had guessed as much from their smell). Steve had pointed out their construction to her immediately after they had arrived this morning by express delivery--but with a few extras.

"Extras?" she asked as she pulled on her sweatshirt. Steve gave her his (and her) favorite expression.

"There are ceramic fibers woven into the uppers and soles," he replied. "The sole can be folded up to give you a custom fit so you won't feel like your tripping on everything. If I was right in my figuring you will be able to wear them for the next three days without discomfort."

Steve stopped abruptly, his grin fading. Ellie smiled to ease his distress at his remark.

"Don't worry, Steve," she said. "I'm afraid it's impossible not to remind me of what's happening to me." She pointed to her former silk nightdress which lay in a heap beside her bed-mat. As her body had grown during the night it had become increasingly hard for her to breathe and at about five in the morning she had distended her chest and belly to take a full breath of air, causing the dress to surrender in dramatic fashion—it explosively ruptured into pieces.

"Just the same, I'm going to figure out a way to make you better clothes," he replied. "You looked very pretty in that gown and I'd like to see you in one like it again."

"Flatterer," she responded, grinning. Steve stayed serious for a moment, then his eyes glowed.

"I missed having you last night," he said softly. Ellie smiled more broadly and dropped to her hands and knees. She kept her expression cheerful despite the stab of anxiety she felt as she realized that even resting on her elbows her head still towered over Steve. God, he looked so small as he walked up to her, reaching out to touch her cheek with one gloved hand.

"When you've recuperated," she said, bending to apply her lips to his. He flung his arms around her neck, leaning into her kiss. Ellie felt desire rising rapidly inside her, replacing the anxiety she felt before.

"Mmmm," she whispered, "that feels nice this morning."

"I am feeling much better than yesterday," Steve said suggestively. Ellie drew herself slowly out of his arms, shaking her head.

"We can wait a little longer, lover. Now, back to these shoes. I must admit they feel much better than the socks with the leather soles I was wearing before. So, I shouldn't punch holes in these just be walking in them?"

"Yep," he replied. "I think it'll work great for you. Since you're dressed for it, why don't you do a jog around the property today? You said you felt better after running yesterday. I'll stay quiet and sedate. I promise."

Ellie smiled again and stood upright. She shifted from one foot to the other, testing the comfort of the new shoes. They gripped her feet almost like she remembered ordinary shoes did, without binding or pinching.

"Steve, they're fine. They feel great," she said. Steve grinned again.

"Then I'll see you in a bit?"

Ellie nodded. "I'll be right back. Don't do anything while I'm gone."

Ellie flipped her braided hair down her back and walked slowly out of her tent-bedroom. As she slipped between the two flaps she felt her hair brush the top seam of the panels. Her heart sank again as she paused and looked at the door flap--she was beginning to grow out of her accommodations. Steve stopped in the process of following her outside and looked up to see what occupied her attention.

"That can be fixed, too," he said, his optimism in full force. Ellie nodded and strode out into the bright light of the day. It had snowed again last night but like the previous morning the sun had melted the snow on the ground. Ellie paused to bend and twist her body, loosening her muscles, sighing happily at the sense of warm release. She closed her eyes and bent deeply, feeling her back muscles stretch. She was surprised to find she could bend almost to the point where her breasts could touch her shins--it seemed her growing was not only improving her senses but her musculature as well.

"Wow," she heard Steve's voice say behind her. She opened her eyes to see Steve standing behind her, looking at her, his eyes wide, his expression boyishly lustful. Ellie straightened up and looked over her shoulder at him.

"Steve, you should be inside," she said, turning to face him. His frank admiration of her body warmed her again.

"I'm going inside, I promise. Did I tell you today that you're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen?"

"Yes, and thank you again, handsome guy."

Steve smiled and executed a bow.

"I'll see you in a bit."

Ellie smiled and blew a kiss down to Steve. She picked out the beginning of the pathway they had used the previous day and started walking, then broke into a trot. Her body felt even looser and stronger than yesterday and she lengthened her pace. The wind began to flap her braid as her speed increased. Her sports bra, one of the first pieces of clothing Steve had given her, was now very snug around her bust but gave her suitable support as she increased her speed still more. In a few moments she was running at full stride through the trees, dodging outthrust branches, following the pathway. It seemed to take only a minute to run the three miles to the lake, and Ellie paused momentarily.

She drew in great breaths of air as she cocked her ear, listening. Not unsurprisingly there was a sound of a motorboat out on the water. She focused her eyes as strongly as she could and was surprised to see the still-distant lake come into focus. There was a small aluminum boat slipping through the water. It had a sheriff's badge stenciled on it's side--a police boat, doubtless come to look at the wreckage of the party boat sunk by the fire. Ellie smiled as she remembered her feat of yesterday. She turned and immediately began running flat out again, her arms pumping, her legs pistoning. Ellie reveled in the sense of freedom she experienced as she ran, feeling her body's lithe responses to her slightest whim.

Suddenly the house appeared out of the trees. Ellie stopped at the edge of the wood and focused on the house, looking through the tall windows of the north exposure. She could see Steve at his desk, Hadad standing beside him. They both seemed engrossed in something on Steve's computer. Ellie smiled. Thinking about their bedtime encounters added to the sense of warmth she felt. Steve had said the track ran for twelve miles around the periphery of the property. Ellie realized she had run that distance in less than ten minutes. She could feel her heart beating in her chest from her exertions but she was neither winded nor tired. She laughed from the sheer joy of feeling such strength and power and started running across the lawn to the start of the track, working up again to her full speed.

"Isn't it a bit mad for her to be running around outside like that?" Hadad asked Steve as he took his seat at his desk. He looked out the window at Ellie's disappearing form as she ran into the woods. Steve looked up at Hadad.

"She could be spotted by that domestic surveillance satellite the Air Force captain told you about," Hadad expanded. Steve's eyebrows rose, then he grinned and shrugged.

"I thought so as well, at first," he replied. "But Ellie's had to go outside every day now since she arrived and there's been no reaction from anybody. Even Sheriff Thompson had no inkling a giant woman was anywhere in the county until he showed up here. I can't imagine why but I can only assume they're either not using the satellite or they don't recognize her when they see her. If on the other hand they do know about her then they're being so covert the property security system isn't detecting them. In any case, I'm not going to worry Ellie about something that hasn't shown up yet."

Hadad nodded and smiled. Steve turned to his PC and called up a NEXUS newswire search program. He typed in a series of keywords, then waited until a list of items downloaded into his computer. He started reading each item. Hadad slipped away silently and was about to clear away the cartful of lunch dishes in the solarium when he heard Steve curse. He immediately became alert, his hand straying to his inside-the-pants pancake holster and his Walther PPK. He stole casually back into the living room. Hadad relaxed as he noted Steve was alone and moved quickly to stand beside him.

"Dammit! Dammit!" Steve cursed again, thumping his forearm against his desk. Hadad looked over his shoulder at the screen. Steve essayed rubbing his forehead with his gloved hand and winced at the pain.

"I'm afraid there is no doubt about it, sir," Hadad said after reading the display. Both men focused on the computer display. It showed an online news service ticker which they had alternately been tracking, day and night.

>DATE-TIME 12:26-11/10 COPY 01 OF 01 POLICE BRUTALIZE

>DL POLICE BRUTALIZE MINNEAPOLIS FAMILY FP1019

>DL BY LINDA MURPHY, STAFF WRITER/CHICAGO,IL

>Possible Rogue Police Unit Brutalizes Hispanic Family

>EDS: MOVED IN ADVANCE FOR WEDNESDAY PMs

>By Linda Murphy, AP Chicago City Desk Writer

>AP-BA-11/10 1321EST*FL*

>***END OF STORY***

Steve seized the mouse of his computer and entered several commands. The screens changed several times and Hadad could hear the computer's modem click on and off more than once. Steve waited until his email program came up, and he whistled as he read the name of one of the senders.

"All right, that's friggin' great work," he muttered.

"Sir?" Hadad asked, curious.

"Frank found out where Ellie's sister got to--Cancún, Mexico. They're scheduled to fly home today. Gotta work fast."

He called up another program, cursing in pain as he tapped too hard on the mouse buttons. As the computer dialed another number Steve dragged the PC microphone towards him.

"Direct Action Security Services." A cheerful, accented female voice suddenly came from the computer's speakers. "How may I help you?"

"Good morning--or is it afternoon for you folks?" Steve said.

"It is evening for us here, sir. What may I do for you?"

"This is Steven Carter calling. I'd like to speak to Raoul Borét, please."

"Mr. Carter, it is good to hear from you again. Mr. Borét is available for you, I will connect you immediately."

"Thank you." Steve held his hand over the mike and looked up at Hadad, who was grinning broadly. The speakers clicked several times.

"Bon jour, Mr. Carter," a husky male voice boomed out. "How are you, sir. I trust our previous recommendation to you has proved satisfactory?"

"Good evening, Raoul. Yes, and thank you again for putting me in touch with Brian. Raoul, I need your people to perform a service for me. A rather unusual service, and I need it yesterday."

"Of course, Mr. Carter," the voice responded pleasantly. "My company is at your service."

"That's great, Raoul," Steve replied. He grabbed at the printouts sitting in the paper tray of his computer's printer and read off the information. Another ten minutes of conversation and Steve hung up, then waited for the screech of an incoming facsimile. He read the fax, used his PC pen to sign it, then retransmitted it back. Hadad observed every action, his smile steadily broadening.

Ellie finished her third circuit of the property at the doors to the solarium, breathing heavily, her heart pounding, her skin glowing. She stretched out her limbs like a cat, murmuring happily from the effort, then she bent to pull open the solarium doors and walked inside.

"Steve?" she called out. "It was wonderful, I--"

Ellie stopped. She could hear Steve and Hadad talking in low tones. She pulled open the main door and dropped onto hands and knees to negotiate it. Once through the door Ellie tried to raise herself to pony-walk through the anteroom to the living area but found her buttocks pressing against the ceiling before she could achieve the position. She shrugged off another dose of claustrophobia and wriggled her way into the high space of the living room.

She saw Steve and Hadad at his desk. Steve leaped up and walked towards her as she came in and stood to her full height, his face worried and frowning. Ellie's smile faded.

"Steve, what's wrong?" she asked. Steve had a sheet of paper in his hand and his mouth was working as if he was having difficulty finding the right words to say. Ellie wiped the perspiration from her brow and squatted on the living room floor.

"Ellie, something important has happened," Steve said quietly. He handed her the sheet of paper. "Can you read this?"

Ellie bent her head slightly and focused on the sheet. She nodded and smiled at the reaffirmation of her new sensory abilities and began to read the paper. Her face fell and her eyes grew wide as she read the printout of the newspaper ticker. She put her hand to her mouth, dropped the sheet and jumped to her feet.

"Oh, God. Nan," she said. Tears spurted from her eyes and she started pacing towards the solarium. She stopped turned back to Steve, and walked toward him, then turned again.

"From the description it sounds like Lang and his people tried grabbing her," Steve agreed. Ellie continued to pace in a circle around the room. She caught the edge of the couch with one foot. It flipped in the air then landed with a crash. Ellie absently bent and righted it then resumed her pacing.

"Nan. Oh God, Nan. Steve, what can I do? How can I-how can I protect her, help her?"

"Ellie, come on down here," Steve said, motioning to her. Ellie squatted again and obligingly lifted Steve into her lap.

"I'm on the case, pretty lady," he said softly, running his gloved hands along her forearms. Ellie saw Hadad nod vigorously in the background.

"I contacted a security company that specializes in things like this," Steve continued. "They're on their way right now to find your sister and her husband and bring them here. With a little luck they should arrive here by tonight."

"What--a security company? But how--?" Ellie shook her head to try to clear the anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her. She put Steve back on his feet.

"Mr. Carter called the same company that brought me here," Hadad interjected, speaking for the first time. "It is a very reputable company, Miss Andersen, very good at this sort of thing. They'll bring your sister and her husband off, safe and sound."

"But what about Jimmy and Sally?" she asked.

"Their children?" Steve asked. "They wouldn't be with them?"

Ellie shook her head. "Nan and Mark always leave them with Mark's brother Albert when they go on their annual vacation so their schooling isn't interrupted."

Steve turned on his heel and rushed back to his computer. Ellie rose and followed, seating herself on the rise surrounding the sunken living room.

"Jimmy and Sally, you said?" Steve asked as he brought up his communications program again. "How old are they? Can you tell me Albert's full name? His address?"

Ellie thought for a moment and answered each of Steve's questions as he called Direct Action Security Services again.

"Of course, Mr. Carter," the voice of Mr. Borét said from the speakers. "Our Chicago office can handle your concern in Minnesota. But, you say there are children involved? That may make things more difficult."

"Steve, I can call Albert and tell him--what can I tell him?" Ellie asked.

"Raoul, I have a family relative here who can speak to Albert Burke for your people. Would that help?"

"It will be of great assistance," Borét replied. "Here's what we shall do."

 

Maxi-Media Studios

Los Angeles, California

Emmett Brogan rubbed his eyes and squinted to see into the westering sun. He had driven off the Ventura Freeway a few moments before, rolling onto Ventura Boulevard and into the parking lot of his Maxi-Media Studios offices. He now sat in his open-topped Ferrari, automatically adjusting the collar of his shirt over the lapels of his black jacket and brushing away imaginary dust from his black slacks. He peered in his rearview mirror. With aviator-style mirror-lens sunglasses and his daily garb (occasionally referred to by snickering competitors in the news-entertainment field as "the Johnny Cash look"), he was ready to jump into another evening of tabloid entertainment.

Brogan sighed. Twenty years ago he'd graduated from the Harvard School of Journalism, full of fire, ready to write for the cause of social justice. The real world had been a non-stop shock and he'd sobered quickly. Trying to hold up the torch of journalistic truth left him dismissed by the powers-that-be as a hopeless rube, not to mention penniless. He'd learned his lessons well, grabbing all he could. Now his syndicated program First Access Today! was the top-rated tabloid show in twelve major markets, a significant achievement in the cutthroat world of journo-distraction. He had won that position by adopting the Matt Drudge style of journalism--gossipy and very, very fast. There were risks involved in shoving things onto people television screens without checking first, he knew, but the profit always outweighed the potential downside.

Brogan looked down at the two three-quarter inch-OU videotapes in their covers sitting on the leather seat beside him. For the first time since his show went on the air he felt a sense of real excitement at what he was going to put on it. His friend Marty had called last night from that silly hick town of Asheville, babbling excitedly about his incredible find. The copy of the tape along with several still pictures had arrived by special courier this morning and Brogan had looked at everything. He had taken the tape to the editing studio himself and spent the day deciding what sequences to enhance, which stills to enlarge, how to narrate the video as it was prepared for play. He worked steadily, forgetting lunch, forgetting the two appointments he'd made with Hollywood insiders who could have given him the latest on OJ and Marv. This item was too, well, interesting. No, that was the wrong word. Captivating? Enthralling? Frightening? All of the above? Brogan found himself breathing deeply as he remembered the images on the videotape. He berated himself for his naïve feeling of excitement and stepped out of his car, pausing to look at his watch. It was too late to alter his studio's major network advertisements but he was just in time to send out a new feed to the syndicated and cable channels. He tried to think about all the ratings points (and dollars) he was going to garner from this sixteen minute, fifty-one second piece of video footage. He would insert the carefully-chosen pieces of the footage in tonight's ads and then call his friend Marty back.

 

Asheville Regional Airport

Asheville, North Carolina

Nancy Burke sat in the plush chair of the commuter jet that had taken her and her husband Mark from the Cancún International Airport. They had just landed but as she looked out the small window beside her she could only see a few lights nearby--and those weren't the lights of the Minneapolis airport. The lighting within the cabin of the plane was dim. Besides herself and her husband the only other occupants were an efficient stewardess and the immense, dark-complected man who had suddenly intercepted them at the airport in Mexico. As the one millionth guests of the Puerto Candide Hotel, he had told them, the hotel was extending to them a terrific prize to show its appreciation--a refund of their round-trip air fare and a free ride in the hotel's executive private jet back to Minneapolis. The man had been at the head of an entourage carrying champagne, balloons, fruit baskets and other items and a mariachi band suddenly surrounded them and started playing. It had been an unusual and exciting end to their annual winter vacation and Nancy and Mark had accepted his offer. They had retrieved their luggage and piled aboard the neat little airplane, which then took off with almost indecent haste.

Now Nancy felt very unsure and even a little frightened. The flight seemed shorter than it should have been, and once they had come aboard their host's demeanor had changed completely, becoming silent and watchful. Nancy turned to her husband, sleeping in the chair next to hers. They had both fallen asleep on the plane right after drinking some of the champagne and she had woken first. She saw the man suddenly stand up and begin to move across the cabin towards them. He had Asian features and looked bigger than Refrigerator Perry--he seemed to fill the cabin of the plane when he stood up. He stood over her and offered her his hand and a smile.

"Mrs. Burke, I must offer my apologies to you and your husband," he said. Mark woke as if on cue, rubbing his eyes. "I am afraid I got you aboard this airplane under false pretenses."

Nancy's anxiety rocketed upward and she did not take his hand. With his shaved head, neat moustache and goatee the man looked like a villain out of a James Bond film. Mark struggled upright in his seat and looked around.

"What, we're home? Already?"

"I'm afraid not, Mr. Burke," their massive host replied. "To be precise, you are in Asheville, North Carolina. Here, allow me to give you my card." He thrust one great hand into his coat and produced a neatly printed business card. He offered it to Nancy but she refused to raise her hand. He turned to her husband and he took the card, looking at it curiously.

"'Direct Action Security Services'? What's this all about?" Mark demanded.

"My organization was contracted to locate you and bring you safely here," the giant answered simply. "Beyond that, I do not know. We were contacted by Mr. Steven Carter of Carter Specialist Industries." He saw that the name Carter did not provoke any response from his guests. "There is also another party involved, a Miss Eleanor Andersen--"

"Ellie? What's going on? What happened?" Nancy suddenly said, sitting bolt upright in her seat. The giant--the name on his card read Diego Chamond--nodded.

"Ah, the name is familiar to you. Good. Mr. Carter requested that you and your family be brought to this place safely, Mrs. Burke."

"Wait a minute," Mark barked out. "What about the kids? Look, pal--"

"All of your questions will be answered soon," Chamond responded, his voice loud and commanding. His eyes flickered out one of the airplane's windows and he smiled.

"Good," he said, his smile returning. "Your ride is here. It has been a pleasure. Follow me, now."

He lumbered toward the front of the aircraft and opened its front hatch himself. The stewardess hovered around Nancy and Mark as they prepared to de-plane, all smiles and professional courtesy. They stumbled their way down the boarding ladder of the plane. In the glare of the plane's landing lights they saw a 4x4 truck waiting a few yards away. The driver, a neat, middle-sized man, jumped out and grabbed Chamond's hand, then they embraced.

"Diego, it's good to see you again," the man said.

"Likewise, Brian," Chamond replied. "Here are your guests," he continued, turning and gesturing towards the Burkes. The man called "Brian" looked at them carefully, paying special attention to Nancy. She shivered at his detailed scrutiny, then he smiled again.

"Well, done, Diego. Give my love to that family of yours. We must get together one day, eh?"

"Of course, Brian. Bon soir."

The Burkes stood still and unmoving, their luggage stacked neatly beside them. The man called "Brian" quickly grabbed at the luggage and flung it into the rear of the 4x4, then gestured to them.

"Well, come along," he said. The engines of the aircraft they had just left suddenly wound up to a painfully deafening level yet they did not move. "Brian" walked up to them and seized them by the hand. His touch startled the couple out of their trance and they followed him to the car.

Forty minutes later found Nancy and Mark looking out the car windows at an impressive looking home beside two huge, brightly lit tents. The 4x4 stopped behind two other equally large vehicles in the driveway and the driver moved quickly, opening their doors and leading them through the front door of the home.

"Mommy! Daddy!" a high, cheerful voice cried. Nancy turned to see her six-year-old daughter Sally running towards her with a child's typical disregard for safety, her two-years-younger brother Dennis valiantly trying to keep up. Seeing her two children was the only normal thing that happened to her since they left Cancún and Nancy swept her little girl up in her arms and hugged her tight. The little boy panted up to his father and was given the same treatment.

"Are you okay?" Nancy asked her daughter as she stroked her hair. Sally wriggled in her mother's arms and smiled happily.

"I'm fine, Mommy. Guess what? I got to go on a ride in a helicopter and a big airplane with some very nice people and I talked on a radio to Aunt Ellie and we did all kinds of great things, but Dennis cried and acted like a little baby and--"

"Aunt Ellie--? Are you sure you’re okay?" Nancy asked again. Her daughter nodded enthusiastically.

"You have a very pretty little girl," a young black haired woman said, coming up to them and offering her hand. "She was very well-behaved for the entire trip here. So was her brother. It was a pleasure."

Nancy and Mark looked around themselves, their heads spinning. Three more people, two female and one male, surrounded them, all offering their hands then disappearing out the door. The sudden silence in the strange house was startling. Then the middle-sized dark man approached them and gestured formally.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he said, bowing. "I am Brian Hadad, the domestic manager of this house. If you will please follow me I am sure all your questions will be answered--"

"We're not moving one inch until you tell us what the hell is going on here," Mark Burke shouted. "First we're kidnapped by some goddamned Samoan, then we're dragged off the some place called Ash Ville, then we find our kids have been taken--"

"Mr. Burke." The deep, bell-like voice stopped Burke's peroration. Both he and Nancy saw a tall, well-built man with what looked like thin fingerless gloves on his hands walking towards them, dressed in casual clothes and wearing a pleasant smile. The man offered his hand, which Burke accepted gingerly.

"You must be Ellie's Sister, Nancy," the man said, turning towards her for the first time. "My name is Steven Carter. I am the one responsible for bringing you here. You have a very pretty daughter, Mrs. Burke--takes after her mother. Mr. Burke, that boy's a bruiser. Now, please, follow me and I will explain everything."

Steve led the confused, mystified couple into the living room of his home, pointing then onto the couch before the fire. Hadad characteristically slipped away and then returned, bearing a tray.

"Good. Thank you, Brian. Ellie tells me you both favor cider," Steve said. He waited until both people had taken up a glass. Hadad then placed a plate filled with cookies and small sweets on a low table set before the couch along with two glasses of cold milk. The two children jumped hungrily on the plate, loudly saying their thanks. Steve nodded and Hadad slipped away again.

"Now, to begin with I wish to apologize for the unusual means used to bring you here," Steve said as he seated himself on a chair set beside the couch. "Believe me, there are very good reasons for doing so. Now, first I'm sorry to tell you your home was broken into, as was the home of your landlady. The people who did so killed her son and shot her."

"Camilla shot? Jesús dead?" Burke asked. Steve nodded shortly.

"Why? Why did it happen? What has it got to do with Ellie?" Nancy asked. The two children were zealously attacking the plate of treats and seemed oblivious to the conversation.

"Ellie has done nothing--and I mean nothing--to cause what happened up in Minneapolis," Steve replied. He paused momentarily to observe Burke's little boy, who had slobbered chocolate around his mouth. Burke picked up his boy and went to work with a handy napkin on the mess.

"It's what happened to Ellie that has caused a great many other things to happen," Steve continued. "I met Ellie up in New York last Friday night. She'd had a traffic accident. The accident was caused by a meteorite which crashed right in front of her car. Ellie had gotten out of her car to look for what she thought was another vehicle and found the meteorite instead. Inside the meteorite was, for lack of a better term, an alien object. Ellie touched it and it changed her. She is still changing, and that has attracted the attention of at least two government agencies which want her--agencies that are willing to use almost any means to get hold of her."

"Want her? Get hold of her? Why? How has she 'changed'?"

"I think it's best you see for yourselves exactly what's happening to Ellie," Steve replied.

A soft whispering of cloth combined with a squeak of rubber on polished wood caught their attention. Steve turned in his chair and rose politely. Nancy attempted to turn in her chair but Sally had leaped up and began to climb into her lap to look over her shoulder. Dennis followed her example, almost kneeing his father in the groin in his enthusiasm.

"Hi, Aunt Ellie!" "Hi, Aunt Ellie!" the two children sang out. Sally immediately moved to climb over the back of the couch. Nancy grabbed her daughter. She heard a soft sigh. Funny, it sounded like the sound came from some distance away yet it also sounded like it was right on top of them. Mark had wrestled his son into some semblance of order and rose, turning on his heel. Nancy saw his face go completely white as he tilted his chin up towards the high ceiling. She set Sally on the floor and the little girl raced around the corner of the sofa. Nancy finally found the footing necessary and levered herself out of her seat. She turned around and gasped.

"Hi, Sis," Ellie said softly. "Hi, Mark. It's good to see you again."

"You can't be," Nancy choked. "You can't be my sister. You can't be Ellie."

Nancy's eyes opened in fear and awe at the sight of the giantess who slowly rose to her full height behind them. The giantess wore Ellie's face--it looked just a little different than she remembered, the jawline a little longer, the cheeks a little broader--yet it was Ellie's face. But the rest--the rest was an impossibility. Nancy felt herself going faint. Two strong hands grabbed her arms, keeping her upright. She looked behind herself to see Steve holding her. He nodded slowly and smiled. Nancy turned to look for her husband and found he was being supported by Brian, who had appeared from nowhere. Her daughter ran headlong to the giantess and now stood beside her foot, looking up and smiling.

"Pick up, please," the little girl called out, waving her arms in the air. Ellie looked down, smiled and reached down to the little girl. Nancy broke free of Steve's grasp and stumbled around the couch, her expression frantic, but she was too late. A huge hand cupped her daughter and slowly rose into the air.

Ellie smiled down on her niece in her hand, who giggled and jumped to her feet, fidgeting to find firm footing on Ellie's palm. Sally popped her head up over Ellie's fingertips and waved down to her mother, who had rounded the couch and half-ran, half-stumbled closer to Ellie's feet.

"Hi, Mommy," Sally called out. "Look, Aunt Ellie can lift me higher than you or Daddy can."

Ellie snorted softly at her niece's antics and took one step closer to the couch. Her sister froze and fell backwards with a thump on the floor. Nancy's mouth opened and shut spasmodically but no sounds came out. Ellie inhaled deeply to dispel the sense of heaviness that weighed on her chest and minced across the floor until she stood beside the couch. Here she knelt, carefully balancing her niece in her palm. She lowered her hand to the floor and Sally spilled out, laughing happily.

"You mind your mother now," Ellie said, applying a gentle swat with two fingers to the girl's butt.

"Okay," Sally said, primly pulling her dress into place and running around the sofa. Steve had already helped Ellie's sister to her feet, a sardonic version of his lopsided grin occupying his face. Mark had stood stock still, one arm raised like a cigar-store indian. Ellie noted Brian looking over each of Mark's shoulders, as if he were studying the reaction. Ellie crossed her legs in her faux kimono, carefully pressing the cloth around her thighs to preserve her modesty.

"You really should sit down, Nan, I think you'll be more comfortable," Ellie said, nodding towards the couch. At the sound of her nickname Nancy suddenly looked around herself as though she had just awakened from a short nap and shook off Steve's assistance again. Sally raced over and seized one of her mother’s hands, tugging at her. Nancy tightened her grip on her daughter and walked slowly around the edge of the couch opposite to where Ellie sat, her eyes never leaving Ellie's face. She sat down, keeping to the edge of the couch

"Pick me up, too, Aunt Ellie!" Dennis said, worming his way out of his father's grasp and clattering across the carpet in imitation of his Sister. Ellie caught him neatly and turned him around, her fingers nimbly applying a tickle. Dennis laughed and gurgled, twisting in her hands, his face wreathed in smiles.

"You're getting to be a big boy, Dennis," Ellie said, using one finger to disarrange the boy's hair. He laughed harder and spun to grab her hand in his, hugging tightly.

Ellie saw Steve move towards Mark and offer his hand.

"You must be Mark. Ellie's told me a little about you. I understand you're a contractor. Are you a general contractor, or do you specialize in one kind of construction? You know, I've got a project going on here that I'd like to hear a contractor's opinion on."

Mark stared dumbly at Steve, who pumped his limp hand and began to draw him towards the east hallway. Ellie saw Steve motion to her behind his back, then he gave her a thumbs-up sign. Ellie sighed and closed her eyes.

"You're doing fine, pretty lady," she heard Steve whisper. "Don't worry."

Ellie looked up. Steve was pushing Nancy's unresisting husband down the hallway. He had paused and looked at her, his eyes glittering in the light, and blew her a kiss. Ellie smiled.

"Thank you, Steve," she replied.

"What?" her sister said. Ellie looked down and shook her head.

"Nothing. Just something Steve was telling me. It's good to see you, Big Casino."

Her sister looked up sharply at Ellie. They had started calling one another "Big Casino" and "Little Casino" after hearing the sobriquets in a John Wayne movie when they were little--nicknames they never used in company.

"Ellie--no, it can't be. You can't be my little sister," Nancy said.

"Yes it is, Nan. It's me."

"God, El, what-what happened to you? How--what--"

"Steve told you what happened to me, Nan," Ellie replied. "I was driving home from the Rusty Nail when this meteor suddenly appeared right in front of me. I touched the thing inside it and somehow just touching the thing is making my body grow."

Ellie sighed softly. Dennis suddenly whooped and leaped at Ellie's braid, which had fallen down her front. He tugged at it experimentally and then looked up at his aunt, a huge smile on his face.

"Can I climb?" he said.

"No fair!" Sally shouted, bouncing off the sofa cushions and racing to join her little brother at Ellie's braid. Nancy also shot off the sofa and rushed to retrieve her children. In doing so she found she had to go around Ellie's knee and thigh. She hesitated, then moved in a circle around Ellie's recumbent form.

"It's all right, Nan," Ellie said, holding out her hand. "I won't let my only niece and nephew get hurt."

Nancy stopped dead at the sight of a two-and-a-half foot long hand suddenly appearing right over her. Instinctively, she ducked.

"Please don't be afraid of me, Nan," Ellie said, her voice strained. "I would never, ever hurt you."

Nancy looked up at her sister and saw tears flowing from her eyes. Ellie sniffed, her face screwed up in distress.

"Nan, I'm so scared," Ellie said softly. The two children had stopped tussling over Ellie's braid and looked up at her, their own expressions rapidly mirroring Ellie's.

"Don't cry, Aunt Ellie," Sally said. Dennis nodded in agreement, his round face serious. Nancy lowered her arms and straightened, looking at Ellie. She suddenly seemed to recognize for the first time that the gigantic woman sitting on the floor before her was her sister and not some strange apparition. Nancy reached up cautiously and touched Ellie's outstretched hand. Ellie lowered her hand, rotating it slowly until it faced palm down.

"God, Little Casino, you are huge!" Nancy said. "You've never had long nails like that before."

"They grew in on the first day," Ellie replied, smiling at her sister's incredulous tone. "So did these." Ellie pointed with her other hand at her bosom. "This has been growing in steadily ever since I touched the orb," and she flipped her braided hair. Nancy looked up, her eyes boggling.

"God Almighty," she breathed. "And this--this just started five days ago?"

Ellie sniffed again and nodded. "I'm growing at the rate of one millimeter per minute--almost two and a half inches per hour. Or four feet, nine-and-a-half inches per day. I learned that when the government people grabbed me and took me to a laboratory in Texas."

Nancy said nothing in reply. She ran her hand over Ellie's skin and touched her fingernails. Ellie willingly turned her hand palm up for inspection.

"What-what's it like, El?" Nancy asked softly. Ellie shook her head again.

"You can't imagine it, Nan. Every minute I can feel myself getting bigger and bigger. These clothes I'm wearing were custom made for me. See these extra panels? That's so I don't burst out of my things every day. It's the most scary thing I can imagine anybody going through, Sis. Every day everything looks smaller because I just keep growing and growing. If it wasn't for Steve and the other people I've met here I think I would have gone completely crazy by now."

"I-I just can't believe it's possible," Nancy said, stepping closer to Ellie's thigh. "Why didn't you call me when this happened, Sis?"

"Well, at first I couldn't, Nan," Ellie replied. "The CDC people had locked me up inside a laboratory. They were treating me like I was carrying a contagious disease."

"CDC? Are-are you contagious?"

Ellie shook her head. "Steve has been with me since the night I touched the thing. He touched it, too, and it didn’t affect him. We've--we've been together ever since." She couldn't help the blush that crept up her throat. Her sister's eyes grew wide again. "If what was happening to me was contagious, Steve should be just as big as I am now, and all the other people I've met would be playing catch-up. No, what's happening to me is happening to me alone. That's the really scary part, Nan--I feel so alone, sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Nancy's eyebrows rose. "God, Ellie, you must feel totally alone all the time."

"No," Ellie replied, smiling. "Steve won’t let me."

Sally and Dennis sensed the change of mood in the room and spontaneously began to play tag with one another, using Ellie as a barrier. Their voices rose steadily in volume as they clattered and ran, dodging around and then over the sofa and chairs. Dennis elected to use a new strategy to avoid his sister's tag and tried climbing up Ellie’s knee, struggling to draw himself over her kneecap. Ellie began to move her hands to help him, then stopped, looking at her sister. Nancy looked up at Ellie, then at her son. She smiled and stepped up to Ellie's knee, grasping Dennis under his arms and boosting him up to where he could get purchase on the fabric of Ellie's clothing.

"Thank you, Big Casino," Ellie whispered, her tears falling anew. "You don't know how much this means to me."

"Hey, no fair!" Sally yelled. Ellie smiled and scooped the girl up again, depositing Sally on her shoulder. Sally squirmed around until she could sit upright. She looked around, her eyes wide.

"Gee, Aunt Ellie, you got a big ear," she said. Ellie turned one eye on the girl. "And a big eye, too!" The little girl looked down Ellie's front. "Boy, you're much bigger than Mommy now."

Ellie began to laugh, quickly cupping Sally in one hand to avoid bouncing her off her shoulder.

"I wanna go up there, too," Dennis said, waving his arms. Ellie folded her hand around him and lifted him until he was in front of her face.

"Do you know how much I love my little nephew Dennis?" she asked. Dennis pondered her question for a moment, then shook his head. Ellie leaned forward and pecked Dennis on the cheek.

"I love you that much," she said. Dennis smiled and wriggled in her hand, struggling to free himself from her grasp. Ellie lowered him back to her thigh, then picked up her niece and kissed her as well. She saw her sister's bemused expression and sighed gustily.

"I remember thinking that when I found the right man I would want children, too," Ellie said softly as she neatly returned the two children to the floor. "I found the right man, at least."

"This Steve must be quite a guy," Nancy said wonderingly. Ellie stretched sensuously, her eyes bright, her smile big.

"Nan, he's the most wonderful man in the world. I love him to death. My biggest fear is I'm going to grow so big he'll become afraid of me, or I'll hurt him without intending to. I pray every day that never happens--I-I don't know what I'd do without him. We're planning to tour the world, starting tomorrow. Going to his ranch in Alice Springs in Australia."

Nancy's facial features were a study in surprise and wonder. She hushed her still-excited children.

"Wow, El," she said, "you really are taken with this guy. But how can you go anywhere like-like you are?"

"Steve has his own airplane, Nan. He's having it modified so I can fit in it no matter how big I am. You see, we have to leave the United States as soon as possible. The people who hurt your landlord in Minneapolis are looking for me. I don’t think they can hurt me physically, but they can hurt Steve, and you and Mark and the kids. We've all got to get away from them as soon as possible."

"Jesus." Nancy shook her head. "I feel like I've fallen into some silly spy novel. To think when I got up this morning all I was concerned with was getting home in time to pick up the kids."

"Living in interesting times is interesting, indeed," Ellie said in reply. She glanced at the wall clock near Steve's desk. Nine o'clock. She worked out the tired arithmetic in her head.

"What is it, Sis?" Nancy asked. Ellie looked down at her.

"I was just looking at the time. If it's nine p.m. on Wednesday, then I must be twenty nine feet three and a half inches tall." Ellie's attempt at humor fell flat. She gulped and wiped away a tear that formed in her eye. Then she heard Steve's voice, soft and distant.

"Hey, pretty lady, can we come in?"

"Yes, of course you can, Steve," Ellie said aloud.

"Little Casino, you sure you're okay? That's the second time you talked to somebody who isn't here," Nancy asked. Ellie grinned.

"I was answering Steve, Sis--he asked if he and Mark could come in from his study." Her sister looked puzzled.

"Since I started growing, all my perceptions have improved," Ellie explained. "I can see and hear better than other people. I've also become really strong, too."

Steve and Mark suddenly appeared on the landing just over Ellie's head. He grinned and waved to her and pelted down the stairs, Mark following. Steve strolled up to Ellie and reached out his hand. She tendered her own and felt him clasp her fingers. Her sister's eyes grew even larger.

"I briefed Mark on our situation, Ellie," Steve said. Behind him Mark nodded as he slipped one of his arms around Nancy's shoulders. Ellie heard the front doorbell ring suddenly and she felt a stab of fear. What better time to corral all of them, then when they were in one place? Steve rubbed her hand as if to reassure her.

"Don’t worry, Ellie, it's just a few people I invited over tonight," he said, his expression merry. "I think it's a good idea to just get together and relax for a bit."

Ellie turned to the main hallway. Led by Hadad, she saw Doctor Canfield and Professor Odegard stroll into the living room, followed by the droopy Don Schiff. Then to her surprise Sheriff Thompson entered the room, wearing civilian clothes, holding onto the arm of a tall, willowy blond woman--his wife? A little blond-haired girl capered at their heels--Thompson's daughter Kathy, Ellie remembered. The woman stopped still as she caught sight of Ellie sitting on the floor of the living room, her mouth open, her eyes marbled in shock. Thompson squeezed her arm and whispered something to her, and she nodded and resumed walking into the room. Kathy caught sight of Ellie and rushed to her, waving and calling her name. Ellie stopped the little girl and waggled a finger at her.

"Now, did you get your mother's permission to come running in here?" she said in mock seriousness. The little girl grew grave and she rubbed her shoe in the carpet.

"No."

"Well, then you need to ask, don’t you?"

"Okay," Kathy replied, skipping back to her parents. She promptly ran in circles around the Sheriff and her mother, a whirling dervish of childhood energy.

"See, Mommy," she called out, grabbing her parent's wrists and pulling, "there is a big lady here."

Introductions were quickly made. Ellie remembered that Thompson's wife was named Matilda, Mattie for short. Kathy pestered her mother until, after speaking to her husband, Steve and Ellie she relented. Kathy shouted for joy and raced up to Ellie, begging to be picked up again. Ellie looked at Kathy’s mother for permission, then carefully cradled the girl in her hands and lifted her high into the air, the girl giggling with delight.

"You can always trust a child," Steve said softly. Ellie turned to look at him. His expression was loving and proud, and Ellie gave that look she reserved for him alone, making him blush. Brian worked his usual magic and everyone was soon settled in a broad semicircle. The conversation level rose in volume as the level of the glasses diminished. Ellie sipped her flower-vase of Bulmer's cider, Steve leaning against her knee. Odegard reported no further success with the alien orb but was devising new tests to crack its mystery; Canfield pulled Steve aside and looked at his hands, pronouncing them as healing normally. The three kids quickly made each others' acquaintance and began another game of tag, their high-pitched laughter echoing in the room. Ellie felt herself start to relax. She tossed back her cider and placed her glass on the floor, then reached out with her hand to touch Steve on the shoulder. He turned.

"I love you, Steven Carter," she said softly. Steve made his eyes big, then smiled. The volume of adult voices in the room dropped markedly.

"I love you, too, pretty lady," he replied. He kissed her hand briefly then turned to face their audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen, my friends," he said loudly. The conversation around the semicircle stilled. "First, please let me thank you for coming here tonight. Most of you know I'm not one for speechifying, to paraphrase Samuel Clemens, so I'll get right to the point of this get-together."

Ellie was puzzled--the unexpected party was a pleasant enough surprise, but Steve had said nothing to her all day about any announcements. Was he going to outline their upcoming plans to fly away?

"Those of you who know can vouch that until recently I wasn't exactly what you would call, ah, an outgoing person. Then, five days ago, I met a very special woman. I will admit I did have some doubts about being in a relationship with that woman--for about a minute and a half."

A titter of laughter broke out from half of the gathering at his joke. Steve nodded and smiled.

"And by her own admission has had some doubts about me, too," he continued, looking up at Ellie. "But she said yes to me and that was the most wonderful moment of my life. Now, she has some problems." Steve turned to face Ellie directly. She bent and fixed her full attention on him, her sense of wonderment increasing. "I know she's worried that being so different from any other woman on Earth will cause me to have doubts about my relationship with her again. Well, tonight I wish to sweep all her doubts away, and I ask all of you to witness it."

Ellie gasped. Hadad appeared at Steve's elbow and handed him a box.

"Brian, please join us, will you? Super." Steve turned and opened the box, then he dropped to one knee and offered it to Ellie.

"Eleanor Andersen, will you marry me?" he said.

Ellie's mouth fell open. She felt her breath catch in her throat and her heart began pounding in her chest. Steve remained where he was beside her knee, his face earnest, a sparkling golden circle inside the box he held over his head. The entire semicircle of people froze in utter shock for a moment, then just as suddenly came to life. Everyone jumped to their feet and a storm of applause rattled the windows.

"Bravo, bravo!" "You go, girl!" "Mazeltov! Mazeltov!" "Holy--" "Grab it! Grab it!"

"Eleanor Andersen, will you wear my ring?" Steve asked. Ellie saw a smile start to break through his serious demeanor. Ellie gulped, her mind reeling. She blinked away the tears that started to form in her eyes and a broad smile creased her face.

"Yes!" she cried out. "Yes, Steven Carter, I will marry you!"

She forgot dignity and caution and bent double to fling her arms around Steve. Lifting him up, she hugged him tight to her, crying and laughing at the same time, the tears streaming down her cheeks and soaking into his shoulders. Ellie began to rock gently back and forth as she held him tight to her, her sobs of joy shaking him as he rested against her bosom.

"Careful now, I’ll lose the box," he gasped in her hands. Ellie redoubled her pressure. She could feel the box poking her in the neck as Steve returned her embrace.

"No," she cried, her tears continuing unabated. "I’m never going to let you go."

"Good," she heard Steve say. She felt him kiss the hollow of her throat again.

Ellie finally released him. She grasped his torso in her hands, brought him up to her face and kissed him soundly, then put him down. Steve shook his arms and slipped out the large golden circle within the box. She gasped again as she saw the ring. It was a perfect circle of gold with a line of diamonds set around either edge, completing two circles of sparkling precious stones. Ellie hesitantly offered her left hand and Steve slipped the circle over her ring finger, his hand working something on the underside of the ring. He winked at her, took her hand in both of his own and held it up so the ring could be seen by their audience. Again they broke into applause. Ellie resisted the urge to sweep Steve off his feet and carry him away to their tent immediately. She pulled her hand out his hold to look at the incredible ring on her finger, turning her hand to see every angle. She looked at Steve. His expression was one of total bliss. She blinked away the moisture in her eyes and touched her fingertips to her lips, then reached down to touch his face. Steve kissed her palm and smiled up at her.

"Thank you, Ellie," she heard him say through the racket. "Thank you for saying yes." She felt her tears rise up again.

 

Metromedia Satellite Services

New York, New York

The technician on duty at the office of Metromedia Satellite Services yawned in boredom. He sat at his tiny desk in a room filled from floor to ceiling with complex equipment. The heat generated by all the communications gear warmed the room despite the efforts of an air-conditioning system that ran twenty-four hours a day. The technician stifled another yawn and was about to go back to his Network Computing magazine when one of the images being displayed on the mass of television screens lining one wall caught his attention.

He waited until the one promo feed had ended then turned up the volume of the monitor. Sure enough, the same advertisement began to repeat itself.

"Tonight, on First Access Today!" the announcer intoned, "a story with an unusual twist: Twenty children in a boat on a lake in the back hills of North Carolina. The boat catches fire, but all the children are rescued unharmed. Now, comes the story of who actually rescued these tiny tots. Exclusive to First Access Today!: video of the helpful giantess of Polk County. Tonight, only on First Access Today!"

The technician watched the same ad repeated four more times for different cable and syndication feeds. He scratched his chin at the pictures and video accompanying the feed.

"Weird shit," he said, then he returned to his magazine.

 

Growth Encounter part 9