After being returned to the laboratory the military had initially snatched it from, Bennu's sleep chamber seemed rather less "touchy." It again allowed people to approach it and low-energy non-invasive studies to be conducted. Presumably de Varga's contact with it had lowered its state of alert somewhat, and - who knows - maybe it even recognized "familiar" surroundings.
Naturally, this state of coexistence was not allowed to last, although this time the fault did not lie with either the Agency or the military - the American ones, at any rate. The Soviet Union wasn't asleep, after all, and, unlike its technology-rich opponent, could not afford to ridicule research into any possible area of weapons development. That included the paranormal - the advantages of telepathic spies, for instance, were obvious. {editorial note: This is, in fact, true!}
Between the willingness of Dr Frazier to discuss his observations and, eventually, the pronouncements of Diego de Varga's Nativist Church, to say nothing of the samples of titanium alloy from Bennu's mound walls, a few of which had been submitted to KGB front metallurgical labs, it seemed rather obvious that the likelihood of Bennu's being a genuine extraterrestrial was fairly high, and an investigation - curiously enough also given the code name (in Russian, of course) "Noah's Ark" - was begun.
The most logical place to start was at the mound in Peru. Nothing much was learned except that the site certainly seemed genuine, for the KGB made the same error everybody else had, by assuming the House of the Sleeper to be basically only a protective shell. The possibility that it was actually an elaborate computer-controlled facility was missed by them, too. They did, however, listen with considerable interest to the stories about the destruction of a large number of well-armed guerillas by a primitive tribe. But there was nobody left to "interview" aside from a few insane members of the Shining Path and an equally few number of women and children of the tribe who had fled the area and were, if still alive, lost in the trackless rain forest.
The next step was to investigate the sleep chamber, which was not especially well guarded - by the Americans, anyway. It still reacted with violence to the presence of explosives, cutting torches, and the like, and the first agent sent in to study it was, after HIS "short flight," rather the worse for the experience. He was also captured.
Nobody in the West would know exactly what the next agent sent in had in mind until, many years later, Bennu downloaded the information from the computer in the chamber, but it seemed to have taken extreme offense to the man's plans.
The first warning that something was amiss came when the security cameras in the study room where the chamber lay suddenly all had their images go weak and blurry. Eventually the guard monitoring them awoke from a nap - it was, after all, 2 AM - and hit the alarm button. Gun drawn, he led the way into the study room. The main light switch was thrown, and a dim light filled the room. It was apparently empty. The man who switched on the lights was rubbing a strange sticky substance onto his lab coat.
The explanation for the camera images was obvious, though. A thin film of SOMETHING covered both lights and lenses - and everything else in the room except for the sleep chamber and a small area around it. Samples were collected, and tests were run on them while the videotapes from the cameras were watched.
There wasn't much to see. A man walked into the room, put down a satchel, and started to open it. A bright beam of light shot out of the chamber and struck the man, enveloping what he had brought. Everything turned into a boiling brownish mass which the chamber, using the light beam, "painted" the room with. The scientist who had flipped the light switch looked with disgust at his hand and excused himself. It was wisely decided not to tell the janitorial staff what they were cleaning up ...
The Earth saying is "third time's the charm." But then, there's also "three strikes and you're out." In any case, the KGB tried a different approach. Perhaps the chamber would "listen to reason," and permit at least a preliminary examination if the agent merely talked nice to it. And then, since it would recognize him from before, allow a little more contact the next time, and so on.
It was a sensible plan. It was 2 AM, the guard was asleep again, and the agent picked the lock on the exam room and stepped inside. He spoke calmly and quietly, much as one would to a large vicious dog who was lying near some object that needed retrieving. Slowly he approached. Finally he stood next to it. Still speaking soothingly, he petted it by gently touching the Phoenix seal on it.
OOPS! Though the chamber took only mild action, it was not what the agent had in mind. He found himself hurled the entire length of the hall - clearly the chamber was continuing to push - and crashed half-stunned into the far wall.
One scientist, working late, heard a long howling yell and looked out his open cubicle door. He saw somebody go flying past and chuckled. He remembered the flight HE had taken some years ago - yes, he was that junior scientist (at the time; he'd since become a full-fledged member of the research teams) who had injudiciously entered the study chamber during Bennu's Awakening - and strongly suspected that he'd just seen another Russian spy.
He was right, too. Apparently the chamber had done something more than just toss the man out, for when he went over to the presumed agent and asked him a few questions, he got some surprising answers!
Scientist: "Hello, there. I see you've met our pet. He does have a bad temper at times - I've taken a flight, too."
The man said something in what sounded like Russian.
Scientist: "Yup. I thought that you were a KGB agent. How long have you been in the country?"
Agent: "Oh, I'm new here. Sent in just for this mission. And I'd really prefer to speak Russian, if you don't mind."
Scientist: "Hang on, I'll get somebody."
With that, he trotted off. He debated calling the guard, but he was still asleep - and as tactful as a mule with a burr under his saddle. No, he had a better idea. He walked into the cubicle of a fellow scientist. Well, supposedly one, anyway.
Scientist: "Hey, Joe, give me a hand. I think the chamber got another KGB agent."
Joe: "UGH! What a mess!"
Scientist: "No, this one's not only alive, but conscious. You speak Russian. Why don't you ask him a few questions?"
Joe: "ME?? If he IS a KGB agent, why would he answer them, anyway?"
Scientist: "Because the chamber did something to him, he's singing like a canary, I don't know when it will wear off, and EVERYBODY knows you work for the Agency."
Joe shrugged and went off to interview the KGB agent. A few hours and several tape cassettes later, the two of them fell asleep. By then, the guard had awakened, been informed, and had called the Agency. He also cuffed the spy, his one useful part in this affair.
The KGB was deeply embarrassed. Not only had they lost THREE of their operatives, but one had blabbed, and it didn't seem practical to risk any more agents on the chamber. THAT meant trying to find Bennu, and that was a lot harder than spying on an inanimate, if semi-intelligent, object that stayed in one place. ESPECIALLY since they didn't have Justin Premminger and his peculiar ability to "guess" where Bennu might be, or might be going.
They studied their dossiers on the subject. Assuming that he WAS an extraterrestrial - and their experiences with the sleep chamber pretty much clinched that fact - what were his powers? He was certainly highly telepathic, and from the reports of some his actions when they did run across his trail - blowing up boulders and jail cell walls got talked about! - he seemed to have some entirely uneartthlly ones.
Well, that WAS reasonable - he wasn't FROM this planet! Though they still had no reports on the relationship of his medallion to his powers, de Varga did preach that he was a Child of the Sun, so, apparently, he - somehow - was able to use its energy to increase his abilities far beyond the meager results the Soviet scientists had achieved.
The KGB decided to use some of their best American agents on the search. Perhaps they would get lucky. (Trailing Premminger proved to be a poor idea. He was, after all, a skilled agent, too, and after one of the teams had been spotted and mostly captured or killed ...)
And, eventually a team actually DID locate Bennu before Premminger did. They made their plans. Justin Premminger was, in no sense, a nice man. But he was both patriotic and not deliberately cruel. The first part - patriotism - applied to the KGB team, too. Not so the lack of cruelty. Though not truly sadistic, they had no qualms about using any means necessary to accomplish their mission, and if individuals suffered terribly because of that, so be it, and their plots would have genuinely horrified Premminger.
It all started peacefully enough one morning. Bennu had finished up at a site the day before and had camped out at it overnight. The next morning he awoke to another in a string of beautiful days. He took care of certain needs all animals above the level of simple sea creatures had, using a bit of SunPower to keep any objectionable material from clinging to his skin.
Then it was time for his breakfast. With his SunCharge level still quite high, thanks to those sunny days, his stomach took precedence. He knew the state of his backpack, but it was never fun to actually see that he was, aside from this morning's breakfast and a solitary apple for a snack, out of food. Not that he was in any danger of actually going hungry. There were plenty of plants around, and leaves, stems, and even wood and bark, were all made mostly of cellulose. Cellulose and starch were simply chains of sugar molecules arranged slightly differently. Though, like all higher animals, he lacked the necessary enzymes to break the cellulose molecule down, he could mix chopped up plants with water and use a little SunPower to do the job. Still, some of the resultant slurries were quite foul-tasting - straw and hay made the least objectionable broths. And he still had to get proteins and the like, and he'd much rather buy food then have to kill animals.
Clearly he would have to get a job, both to pay for food and transportation. Farm towns - whether agricultural or ranching -always needed an extra hand someplace, and a few days' work would supply him with what he needed for a while.
Bennu cast his mind about. Though telepathy wasn't great at judging either direction or distance, he was, by now, well acquainted with the strength of the average Earthly mind. Unless he detected unusual abilities or Talents in a mind, he assumed it was approximately the average, and, hence, the strength of it he felt would give him an approximate distance.
And there was only one person - and a horse, whose mind strength confirmed the distance - some miles away. He could afford to take his time.
First he removed his shirt and enjoyed a leisurely Sunbath just to feel the considerable pleasure of the various wavelengths beaming down upon him. The he took the actual SunCharge. The effects of the Sun on Sunchildren were quite sensual (and, indeed, somewhat sensuous) and so tended to make them rather more aware of their bodies than other Mature races were. As a result, they had a particular dislike of being dirty, and, in the natural variation that all Races have, Bennu was especially prone to this.
Ordinary dirt wasn't much of a problem. He simply dusted himself off and then washed both his clothes and his body when he had the chance. Greasy or sticky substances, which clung, were more undesirable. If they had a bad odor he found them particularly offensive, and was apt to use a small amount of SunPower to keep them from adhering to himself. He hated to stink! In fact, this was the area of life that Bennu was closest to Immature, all of which proved that perfection was unobtainable in mortal races. Ordinarily, this was a harmless foible, but this time it was to be a link in the chain of his next Adventure.
After he had been walking towards the nearest town for an hour or so - and, by coincidence, towards the man whose mind he had felt - there was a sudden mental disturbance. He sensed the pain of a seriously injured horse, which continued, and that of the man, which stopped quickly and abruptly. Clearly, there had been a riding accident! Fortunately, the man had also been headed in his direction and Bennu only had to put himself into that particular stride that got him from one place to another in a hurry for about a mile. Then he arrived at the scene.
He checked the man - nothing seriously wrong, just a concussion. Since the man was still unconscious, Bennu could get away with Healing the horse, which, as he had expected, had a broken leg. Then it was the man's turn, though it would have been much too suspicious to Heal the various fairly minor injuries the man had.
He woke up, finding himself with a bad headache and a tall stranger watching him. "OWW! What happened?"
Bennu: "I would assume your horse threw you. I've checked you over and I don't think you've got anything worse than a good-sized lump on your head."
Bennu reached down and helped the man to his feet and they exchanged names. The man, Sam, dusted himself off thoroughly. Bennu Smiled.
Suddenly tears welled up in Sam's eyes. "Silver! He's a gonner for sure. Broke his leg. Darn! I've known him since he was foaled and been riding him since he was old enough to carry me. Sometimes a man and his horse form a special bond - almost like a marriage. I don't know if you can understand that, but -"
Bennu (interrupting): "I love horses, too, though I don't stay in one place long enough to bond with an animal - or a person, for that matter. But as for Silver, the only horse around here has four healthy legs and an equally healthy appetite. He was grazing just past that boulder some minutes ago."
With that, Bennu gave a whistle and the animal came trotting over. Sam stared in astonishment and threw his arms around Silver's neck. He was rewarded by a slurpy lick.
Then Silver switched his attention to Bennu, or, more properly, his backpack.
Sam: "Silver, what's got into you?"
Bennu (ruefully): "My mid-day snack. I don't have to tell you about horses and apples!"
He surrendered it. Two chomps later it was gone. He swapped some petting for a slurp. Then he and Sam began chatting. Bennu explained his mound-hunting ("for a book I'm writing") and his need for a few days' employment. Sam was quite sure his employer, Big John, would be glad to take Bennu on, and they rode off on Silver to the ranch. Fortunately, Silver was a big strong horse!
For the next few days Bennu put his cares aside and worked at Big John's Horse Farm and Ranch. His hopes for a nice uncomplicated stay rose steadily. And then, on the third day, it all started to go wrong.
If one works with horses, there is a certain product of theirs that must be dealt with on a daily basis, and it was time to muck out the stables. Bennu put on the boots he was lent and activated his medallion to low-power repulsion so the material {note - there is a perfectly good word for this substance, but in the Immature world we live in, it's not considered appropriate to use it, even in its literal sense!} would tend to slide off him.
Today his fellow stable-hands included Jack. That was a poor start to the day - Jack was a most UNfriendly sort, and had already tried to trip him twice "accidently," had made several very rude personal comments, and had indicated that Bennu had better watch his step if he wanted to keep all of his teeth. Not that there was much point in watching one's step at present, and they all set to work with spade and pitchfork. Soon enough - though with that job, "soon" never really came soon enough - the soiled hay and manure had been piled up and everybody took a quick break before loading the wheelbarrows and heading for the compost heap.
Jack stared at Bennu, who had remained remarkably clean. "Well, aren't we the pretty boy! What's the matter - don't like horse (and here he DID use the forbidden word)?
One didn't have to be telepathic to sense that Jack meant trouble, but it certainly helped Bennu prepare for it. He replied: "Animal waste, rot, and decay are all necessary parts of Nature's cycle. But they smell bad, and I don't like to, so I try to keep such substances off me."
Jack weighed 240 pounds. Unlike the average bully, he genuinely enjoyed a fistfight, at least one he expected to win after trading punches for a while, and Bennu looked strong enough to be a decent challenge. He also knew how to start the fight. Without speaking another word he charged at Bennu, intending to push him into the manure pile.
Bennu was both telepathic and highly coordinated. He stepped out of Jack's path at the last moment, spun on a heel, and shoved Jack in the back as he went by. SPLAT! Jack found himself embedded face-first. He levered himself out of it, groped for some clean hay, cleaned his nose, mouth and finally his eyes, and then opened them.
He stared in outrage at Bennu, who was flicking bits of splatter off himself.
Jack: "You - you - I'm gonna -"
Bennu raised his hands, made fists, and assumed a boxer's pose. "Get a concussion. Fighting is utterly stupid, but if you absolutely insist on attacking me, I can give you a broken jaw. It will take a while to heal - I hope you enjoy it. And while it does, you might consider the consequences of your actions. Plenty of people carry weapons and many won't hesitate to defend themselves with them."
At that moment Big John's voice, coming in through the open stable door, boomed out. "Jack, that will be quite enough. I was passing by and saw and heard the whole thing, so don't try to give me any horse manure. Bennu has already taught you one lesson - I hope - and here's another one from me. I'll give you a choice - clean up the manure and move it to the compost heap by yourself or take the day off without pay."
Jack chose the latter. He rinsed off in a horse trough, took a long shower with his clothes on, and rode into town and Joe's Bar. Though Joe's offered a variety of entertainments, several illegal, Jack was only interested in one of the legal ones - drinking liquor.
He had made a good start towards getting stinking drunk - especially the "stinking" part - when somebody he had never seen before walked into the bar and looked around. It being rather early on a week day, the bar was still pretty empty, and so it wasn't long before the stranger sat down next to Jack and introduced himself as Ray.
Ray bought Jack a drink and chatted idly with him for a few minutes. Then he showed Jack a sketch of a tall blond dressed in denims. "You wouldn't happen to have seen this fellow around, would you? My friends and I would like to talk to him. Calls himself 'Bennu.'"
Jack downed his whiskey in one gulp and held out his glass. Ray bought him another drink. Somehow, Jack didn't think Ray intended to give Bennu a medal. Whether he was a cop, bill collector, lawyer or maybe even a spy - wouldn't THAT be a hoot! - if Jack could help get Bennu into trouble AND get drinks for doing it, sure!
Jack: "He's working at Big John's Horse Farm. Showed up a couple of days ago. Can't miss the place - it's the biggest spread around."
Ray: "Very good. Now, if you'll just stay here the rest of the day, here's a $20 bill."
Jack was pleased. He was a day short in salary, and the two drinks and the twenty would help quite a bit. And he hadn't planned on going any farther than the bar's men's room, anyway. He resumed drinking.
"Ray" was pleased, too. FINALLY they had found this Bennu. Now to capture him. His team - 3 other of the KGB's top American agents - swooped down on Big John's while he kept watch from a convenient knoll. Bennu, among others, wasn't present, but that was taken care of in their plans. They tied up the hands in the barn, adding some barbed wire to keep the hands from trying to wiggle out of their bonds.
Then they put the securely tied Big John, his wife, and their son on a couch in the front room of the ranch house. They had first put the couch on a carpet, and now carefully splashed kerosene on the carpet, but NOT the clothes of the people. Then one of them showed the family a timer, set it for 15 minutes, and put it down on the fuel-soaked carpet. He stayed behind to watch over the captives, while his two companions guarded the front and back entrances to the house.
The plan was simple. IF Bennu were the highly telepathic alien he was supposed to be, he should hear the terrified mental cries of the ranch family. And the 3 agents were going to be mentally calling out his name and the basics of the plot. Surely he would be forced to come to the rescue. And, if by some chance, he didn't hear their minds and the 15 minutes passed, wouldn't he HAVE to hear the minds of the family as the flames neared them? And he would surely see the smoke from the burning farm house!
Of course, if he really weren't an extraterrestrial, or his powers were much weaker than reported - or even if, despite the reports, he refused to risk capture - they would learn and try again. That some innocent people would die was quite irrelevant. The farm family was, as the euphemism went, "expendable."
Bennu had chosen to walk the miles to his next chore. He was busily at work when Sam rode up on horseback to join him. Suddenly the mental calls of the agents and the screams of the family rang in his mind. He hastily "scanned" the area - somebody, as he suspected, was watching the farmhouse through binoculars, and, from the view, Bennu could calculate the spot. He leaped into Silver's saddle and, without so much as a word, galloped off, leaving Sam calling out to his rapidly disappearing back: "Bennu, What ARE you doing! YOU may like a long walk, but I'm not so young and it's a several mile ride - DANG!"
He threw his hat to the ground in disgust. And he couldn't believe that Silver would allow himself to be ridden away from himself like that! He sat down morosely. And then "the cavalry came riding to the rescue." Or, at least, a man driving a Jeep. Sam stood up, and, waving his hat frantically, called out for help. The Jeep whizzed by and Sam threw his hat in disgust again, this time using the strongest word in his vocabulary: "DANG -NAB-IT!"
The man driving the Jeep was, not surprisingly, Justin Premminger. That it had taken him a few days to find Bennu was a bit odd - usually his Talent worked promptly or not at all - but, as usual with his "hunches," the Agency was not willing to give him any more aid than a vehicle.
He had found himself in town this morning, and the bars were the logical place to start looking for answers. Soon enough he entered the last one, Joe's. There weren't many people to question in there, either. Bennu hadn't gone out for a beer with the boys, so the bartender hadn't seen him. Neither had anybody else. No, wait. The was a very drunken ranch hand half-asleep at a table in the back. (The bartender had left him a bottle - now half empty - and moved him there, near the bathroom and away from other customers in case Jack preferred a fight to passing out.) Premminger shrugged and sat next to him.
Whew, what a stink! The things he had to do for his country ... He roused the man and showed him his picture of a Nordic blond in denims. The man looked blearily at it and held out his glass. Premminger bought him a drink, being told by the bartender that he was talking to Jack, who liked to fight "so be careful," then tried the picture again.
Jack: "Maybe I did see him. What's it worth to you?"
Premminger (showing his badge): "As an American citizen, you should be willing to answer agents of the Federal government without being bribed."
Jack stared at it. An idea appeared in his mind - something not easy to manage when one is that drunk. "Hey, maybe he is a spy!"
Premminger: "This Bennu's no spy, he's -"
Jack: "Not Bennu, Ray. He was in here earlier. Said he and his friends were interested in speaking to him. Bennu's at Big John's. Don't like him. He fights too good."
Premminger tossed a $10 bill on the table and stood up. He had read reports about the attempts the KGB had made on the chamber Bennu had supposedly been in, and Jack might well be right! He'd better hurry. He got directions from the bartender and began to leave.
Jack: "TEN dollars?" He stood up - somehow - and began a diatribe about what a national disgrace it was that the KGB could outspend the Agency. Not for long, though. That last drink had done its work and he'd finally reached his limit. He hit the floor with a thud.
Premminger hit the accelerator. He saw a ranch hand frantically waving a hat and calling out for help but ignored him. Whatever that fellow needed, he had more important things to do, such as, improbable as it might seem, having to help Bennu. A team of KGB agents, undoubtedly well-armed, was not to be taken lightly!
Soon enough he spotted a galloping horse with a tall blond with long hair for a rider. He pulled up alongside, started to reach for his gun, and "thought better of it." Fortunately for Bennu, this was soon after his hypnotizing Premminger, who, still being under its effects, couldn't aim it at him.
Bennu: "Justin Premminger, I do NOT have time for your games! Enemies of your government have set a trap for me. They have captured the owners of Big John's ranch and will burn the ranch house down in 13 minutes. They know I must attempt a rescue and are waiting for me."
Premminger: "So they ARE KGB agents. Hop in. Jeeps travel much faster than horses."
Bennu could use the extra minutes and was only too glad to comply. He dismounted and climbed into the passenger side. Premminger started to speed away, but Bennu redirected him. "First we must eliminate the watcher. He's on the other side of that knoll. He will not see us coming.
Premminger pulled up where Bennu directed. Bennu got out and hastily searched the ground for small stones. Nothing! And he didn't have any time to waste. He turned to Premminger. "Give me your gun!"
Premminger stared at him. He'd never heard of Bennu doing anything with a gun except remove it from it's owner's possession, and anyway, he could barely see glimpses of their target from here. It was an impossible shot with a pistol, and that's one thing he was sure he was better at than Bennu!
Bennu: "Quickly! 11 minutes to go."
Premminger shrugged and handed it over to him butt-first. Bennu ejected the clip and removed the bottom four bullets. He then returned clip and gun to Premminger. While Premminger reloaded the gun, Bennu turned his back to him, grasped his medallion with his right hand, and concentrated on the cartridge casings of the bullets he held in his left. They expanded slightly and he removed the slugs. Dropping three slugs into a shirt pocket (and allowing the casings to fall to the ground), he whipped his arm over his head and let fly.
Guided by his mind and propelled by more medallion power, the slug flew true and smacked into the man's head. He went down hard.
Back in the jeep, the two raced over to the fallen agent. A radio, high-powered binoculars, sniper's rifle, and other equipment littered the area. Bennu tossed the man in the back of the jeep while Premminger picked up the equipment. Bennu also placed his fingers over the man's temples and, much as he disliked using his Powers for anything other than Healing, fired a quick stunning charge. It would do the man no harm, after all, and he couldn't risk having him wake up for the next 10 minutes or so.
Premminger turned around just before Bennu tossed a blanket over the man. "Why, it's Sergei Malekov! He's their TOP agent in this country. We've been after him for several years. Bennu, who ARE you?"
Bennu: "It is not important who I am, or who you believe I am, but what these - KGB is the term? - people and their government believe I am. We have nine minutes left. Sweep in an arc around the building. I will get out behind the horse barn and take care of the man guarding the back. I will toss another slug as your signal to divert the man at the front door as I attack the one inside. Be careful - he may shoot without warning."
Premminger was being affected by the aura Bennu normally radiated. Perhaps, if they had time, he just MIGHT have been willing to accept the Light and the Truth it brought. But there was no time for that now, and perhaps it was just as well, for other things would probably also have been triggered.
Premminger: "I do not need you to remind me of my duty, or the risks it poses!"
Well, so much for "that moment!" Premminger then did his part for the plan. Bennu tumbled out behind the barn, edged around it, and threw a second slug. It was equally effective, and Bennu stepped up to the back door as Premminger swung around the house, reached the entrance road, and drove up towards the front door. Six minutes left.
He stopped a safe distance away from it, drew his gun, and called out: "Howdy there! Big John not at home?"
The man began to walk over to the Jeep: "Doesn't seem to be."
Premminger: "Strange. I had an appointment. Oh, well. You know ranchers. Animals get sick or hurt, equipment breaks down ... I guess I'll go on to the next stop on my list."
Premminger was thinking: //Bennu, you'd better hurry up! Either I've got to leave or there will be a gunfight.//
Bennu caught that thought, but he had a small problem to deal with first - a wire stretched across the inside of the back door. One end was connected to another "suspicious oval object" - Bennu now knew what a hand grenade was - but it was easy enough use his Power to unwind the wire from the pin and unlock the door. He made his best estimate of where the man at the front was going to be in the time it took for a slug to clear the roof and come down again, wound up, and threw. He had no time to guide it - four minutes left - and stepped into the house.
His aim was true. It is highly distracting to have a slug - a .45, at that - falling from some 25 feet up, hit one on the head, and Premminger watched the agent stagger from the impact. In a flash he had provided Bennu with his distraction, by shooting the man three times in the head.
The last agent turned around just in time to catch Bennu's last slug. Bennu then hurled him through the front door for Premminger to deal with, used a quick burst of medallion power to untie Big John's hands, grabbed the incendiary device, and, stopping only long enough to get the grenade, popped out of the back door. Two quick splashes followed as he tossed both into the horse trough. He then headed for the hands' bunkroom to retrieve his backpack, mentally summoned Silver, and prepared to make a hasty departure. Premminger' sense of duty tended to override everything else, and Bennu certainly couldn't count on a Third Chance!
Big John freed his wife and son. They then moved the couch and tossed the dangerously flammable carpet out of the house. Then they went investigating.
First they met Premminger, who explained who he and their captors were. They helped him tie up the two remaining live agents. Then they headed to the horse barn, explaining that it was now Premminger's turn to help untie the ranch hands.
While that was finishing up Silver came trotting past the stable door. Premminger noticed and drew his gun. (Remember, the hypnosis only kept Premminger from actually pointing it at Bennu!) "Oh, oh. That looks like the horse Bennu was riding. Excuse me, but I have to capture him."
Big John: "What's he done that you have to arrest him?"
Premminger: "It's not exactly arrest him - it's hard to explain, it involves national security, and my superiors actually just want to question him. He's supposed to be an alien."
Big John: "National security, huh. Doesn't his helping capture four KGB agents count? And they need the AGENCY to catch a single alien? Isn't that a job for Immigration? Anyway, I didn't know we had a problem with Scandinavians."
The hands began murmuring angrily. Pitchforks and other sharp objects were picked up.
Premminger noticed: "Not that kind of alien. Like REALLY alien, from another solar system."
Big John: "Horse 'manure' [or whatever]. Not only does he look just like us - and eat our food - but he loves horses - and can ride them - wears denims, and mucks out stables."
Premminger (shrugging): "I AGREE. The whole thing is absurd. But that's the job I've been given."
Big John: "If you go chasing Bennu - assuming we'll let you - we'll let the spies go."
Suddenly a horse whinnied. Big John had a truly horrible thought. "Oh, no. He's not going to say it."
Premminger: 'Say what?"
A voice boomed out: "Hi-ho Silver away!" followed by the rapid clopping of horses' hooves.
Big John. "He said it. Alien, indeed!"
Premminger: "My boss is NOT going to like this!"
Meanwhile, Bennu was just glad that temporary hands were paid by the day. He'd missed today's pay, of course, and couldn't very well go back for it. At least his backpack was full of apples. When he was several miles away from the ranch he dismounted, gave Silver one of his apples as a reward, and sent him back to the farm. But what was that envelope doing in his pack?
He opened it. Inside was FIFTY dollars - a lot of money to a ranch hand - and a note. He read it. "Bennu, I know a broken horse leg when it happens. I don't know who you are - or how you healed Silver - but thanks!" It was signed "Sam". Bennu hated to take the money, but he couldn't very well return it, and he was sure Sam thought it a cheap price to keep his horse.
Premminger was right about his boss.
Supervisor: "Good work, but - you let Bennu get away."
Premminger: "I didn't let him get away - what was I supposed to do - shoot a barn full of stable hands? I didn't have enough bullets even if I were willing to. Besides, Bennu helped me capture the top KGB agent in this country, and we've been looking for him a lot longer than we've been after Bennu."
Supervisor: "Aren't you forgetting your job?"
Premminger (finally getting angry): "No, I'm remembering it! As an employee of this Agency, it is my sworn duty to defend America against her enemies. Sergi Malekov is a major enemy of this country. Alien or not, it has never been suggested that this Bennu poses any threat. If he does, why have I never been given much assistance? No, Harry, you're wrong. Malekov and THREE other KGB agents sounds like more than a 'good job.' I expect a commendation on my desk tomorrow morning or my resignation will be on yours by the afternoon!"
Harry: "You know that you can't just quit the Agency."
Premminger: "I've had more than enough of this 'alien from space' nonsense - or is it a child of the gods, as the Peruvians would have it?"
Harry stared at him in disbelief. Premminger was one of the Agency's most loyal employees, and he could not believe his ears. Premminger met his stare with an unblinking one of his own.
Harry: "You win. You'll get your commendation. But I expect you to catch Bennu!"
Premminger: "So do I."
Copyright August 26, 2001 Three Cheeks Productions (Richard Kaplan)