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danger we began to scan our satellite images for information on the probable cause. You may well understand, General Miller, we find explosions going off in the vicinity of our ship a little concerning. We gather that the local police believe it was a gas explosion, and it is not my position to disagree. However, if you observe the expressions of the faces of the two humans in the photographs, it may look as if they are running away from what they know is about to happen. And how could they know what was about to happen, unless somehow they were instrumental in its cause?
“Yes, I see what you mean.”
We gather also that the owners of the property have not been found, and there were no bodies found in the remains.
“I don’t know much about that, I’m afraid.”
If you agree, then, that it looks as if these two are fleeing the scene of the crime, it may interest you to know that our sensors detected another, much weaker tremor a little while ago, in the area of the town you call Crieff. Not a little curious about this second event, we turned our satellite eye on to that area and saw this:
The display transformed into a holographic image now. The Hyundai estate car speeding out of Crieff, Janette tensed nervously over the wheel.
“It’s the same car!”
It would appear so, agreed the Soros.
“Did you track them further?”
Unfortunately no. Our satellite moved out of position shortly afterwards and we had no time to re-align it. Also, as you can see the road along this “loch” is lined with overhanging trees, which makes it difficult to stay in visual contact. But perhaps you, or the local police, can hazard a guess as to where the pair may be headed.
“I’ll pass this on to the Criminal Intelligence Section as soon as I can,” replied the General. “At the moment there’s not much else I can do, I’m afraid.”
The Soros helmet seemed to look up at that point. It turned left, then right, its visor mirroring the soft padded walls of the anteroom, the light cast by the holograph and the General’s face.
“Is there something wrong?” asked the General.
No, replied the Soros, after a long pause. There is nothing wrong.
Mark’s dream dissolved a little at that point, like a radio or TV station moving off its best frequency.
The General had left. Only the single Soros was left. He continued to manipulate the console keys. The keys, he noticed, were not at all like those of human design. The console, like everything else about the ship, was rather beautifully designed, but nevertheless held an indefinable alien quality. Other images appeared in the holograph, but Mark recognised none of them.
He drifted. The door into the inner sanctum remained open. He felt himself float through it. A strange clicking noise came from behind, and he turned to find the Soros Leader was facing him, looking at him.
You can’t see me, Mark thought, I’m in a dream. My body is lying asleep in a hotel in the Highlands. I’m miles away from you.
The clicking noise he then realised was the Soros’s voice. He could have sworn it was speaking to him, but Mark could not understand. No, that was ridiculous. No way could he be seen. He turned away and drifted through the doorway, into the heart of the ship.
A door panel slid up to his left. He turned into this room. It was full of holographic images of planets, stars, solar systems. He was drawn to an image on one wall. It was a map. The colours of it were brown and yellow, but there was no way to tell if the brown represented the sea or the land. Mark was struck by the thought that perhaps the Soros perceived colour differently from humans – maybe they saw brown where we saw blue. If so, how did that affect what else they saw?
But now Mark felt that old fear again. Something was happening deep within the ship. He sensed that some thing, something awfully powerful had been turned on. Something to do with… gravity?
He had to get out. Somehow, he was in danger here.
The room, the ship, the dream, all faded, suddenly and finally.
He opened his eyes, wide awake.
Mark had no trouble remembering where he was. He threw back the quilt and swung his legs off the bed. He ran his fingers through his hair. He knew he had to write his dream down, quickly, before it faded. There was something important there.
He found hotel writing paper on the writing bureau by the window. Stopping only briefly to marshal his thoughts, he jotted down as much as he could recall in as much detail as he could. He ended by drawing the map. That bothered him. He had seen this map before.


13 Logan #3

Logan sat behind the wheel of the Jeep, waiting. Light was starting to fade as the evening wore on. The hotel was in the shadow of the hills to the west, but Logan still wore his dark glasses. He heard the sports car before he saw it racing down the long road coming from the Fort William direction. He watched as the Mazda S10 turned off the road with a squeal of tyres and shot recklessly and neatly into the remaining parking space as if it belonged there. The amount of space remaining on either side meant its driver was crazy, or lucky, or extremely skilful. The driver turned off the engine and got out.
The dark glasses were a recognition convention favoured by the Human Freedom League, but Logan would have recognized Tony Cameron anyway. They had met before, several times, at League rallies. Cameron spotted the Jeep, parked away from the door of the hotel, and sauntered over. The S10, flashed and bleeped as its alarm self-activated. Logan smiled. Cameron liked his gadgets. Logan quite liked Cameron. He was the son of a wealthy Highland coach operator and took a hand in the business. He had a penchant for high-performance sports cars, of which the S10 was his latest, and he shared Logan’s passionate hatred of the aliens.
“Logan. Hi. Good to see you, man. Got the call. Came as soon as I could. “ Cameron leaned on the open window of the Jeep. “Still driving this piece of crap?”
“Yes,” replied Logan. He was not sure that, as Vice-Chairman of the League, he was too fond of hearing his subordinate refer to the Jeep as “a piece of crap”. “Let’s focus on this mission, Cameron. You got the details from the Net?”
“Sure, sure. Okay, let’s do this. Where is he? Where’s the target? Do we need to check it out first?”
“The target is in the hotel. He’s with his mommy.”
Cameron sniggered. “We’ll take her out too, man.”
“Possibly. I have no instructions about her yet. But we’ll focus on the boy first. We’ll go in, have a drink, check out the area,” said Logan. “I’ve tried to get us a room but they’re all booked up. We’re sleeping in our cars tonight.”
“Och well, I’ve slept in worse places,” said Cameron.
“But listen. We have to wait here. We can’t do anything tonight. If something goes wrong and they get away, we have to have the contingency plans in place. All we’re doing for now is observing. And try not to let the targets observe us!”
“Yeah, I understand.”
“Now, who’s covering the road north?”
“There’s my brother Jamie stationed at the lay-by on the way into Glen Coe, and I’ve got the rest of my team moving down from Fort William tonight and tomorrow. We’ll have enough to cover all this area.”
“Good. What’s communication like here?” asked Logan.
“Comms is fine. They’ve built a new set of masts across the moor, cunningly disguised as Scots pines. But it’s fine – coverage is good, now. Who else is coming?”
“I’ve got Fisher based at Tyndrum ten k down the road, and Denton’s team are in Crianlarich.”
Cameron nodded. “You’ve got them boxed in, then. Road and rail, it’s all covered.”
“Right. Good. It’s coming together. Now all we do is wait for the go from the Chairman. Got your gun on you?”
“Sure. I’ve got the weapon right here, man. Say - did you see what those bullets can do? God, man, I fired a few rounds into a deer out on the hill – it just blew right apart!”
Logan was angry. “You didn’t leave the bullets in it, did you, for anyone to find?”
“No, no. Honest, Logan, it’s all right. I got them all back. Trust me. Come on, let’s get that drink. I’m desperate.”
They put their dark glasses away and entered the Bridge of Orchy Hotel. Logan could feel the marvellous weight of the weapon against his side under his jacket. The Human Freedom League was going into action. The feeling in his gut was back, stronger than ever.


13 The Train

After breakfast, they took coffee in the large, well-furnished lounge and watched as other residents departed. Some of the departing guests heaved huge rucksacks onto their backs and sauntered cheerfully past the wide windows to rejoin the West Highland Way, the long distance path from Glasgow to Fort William that passed right by the hotel; others mounted bicycles, laden with panniers; others loaded up cars and waved cheerio to fellow travellers they had met only the night before but whose company they had clearly enjoyed. All seemed happy, proceeding with holiday plans in complete ignorance of the isolated pair who watched them through the old-fashioned single-glazed windows.
Appetites, however, had been somewhat restored. Janette poured them both a second mug of tea. She had read Mark’s notes. “You’re not very good at drawing maps,” she remarked.
“No. Geography was never my best subject.”
“So tell me what you make of it. Your instincts have kept us alive so far.”
“They’ve set us up. They have suggested that we were somehow to blame for the gas explosions, in Touch and in Crieff. The police at the very least are going to want to question us. They will take us in, the Soros will know exactly where we are and – “
“Goodnight and thank you for playing?”
Mark nodded.
Janette threw down her teaspoon in a gesture of impatience and frustration. “But why? That’s what I still don’t understand.”
“Okay, let me run this by you, see how it sounds. The Soros see me as some kind of threat. Somehow I can tune into them. It seems to have something to do with magnetism. If I can tune in to them I can read their files and plans and know what they’re planning.”
“But what I can’t understand is that they’ve repeatedly said they mean Earth no harm. Those were the first words they said once communication had been established. They mean Earth no harm. Now it’s pretty clear
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