David Golemon - Event

Silence greeted her comment. Jack looked away and over to the monitor where there was a still shot of Matchstick smiling up at Boris and Natasha.

"You mean to tell me that the Green species were willing to die out instead of taking the easy way out and siding with the Grays?" Jack asked while still looking up at the screen.

"Hard thing to try and live up to, isn't it?" Lee asked no one in particular.

"At least Gus and Matchstick won't want for anything," Alice said, finally forcing a smile.

"Yes, Gus and his friends are about to become very well-off," Lee said, smiling. "Imagine, the Lost Dutchman Mine, we should have known it was real. There's a lesson to be learned there." He shook his finger. "No matter how ridiculous the myth, they always have a basis in fact, always. It seems we forgot that for a while. This was a nice way to be reminded," Lee said, looking back at the screen as he took Alice by the hand.

"Yes, they are going to be very well-off," Niles said absently.

"Just like you kids will be well-off without the likes of me bitching all day. Niles, call me from time to time just to say hi to an old man, and let me know how that new head of security is doing tracking down our Colonel Farbeaux now that his immunity is at an end," Lee said, looking at Jack and winking his one good eye. "And by the way, Alice is taking the rest of the month off."

Without a word, Senator Garrison Lee left the Event Center for the last time, placing his arm around Alice. She smiled like a coquette, looking back at the others as she placed her arm around Lee's waist.

Collins and Niles returned her happy smile as they watched the couple leave.

The major was off the next day. He, Virginia Pollock, and Everett were flying to MIT and from there to New York University for interviews for replacement personnel for those lost. From there Jack would meet up with a field team and fly to the University of Washington to investigate a diary from a man who had supposedly escaped from Custer's regiment at the Little Big Horn.

On his way out of the Computer Center, Jack ran into Specialist Fifth Class Sarah McIntire, soon to be promoted to second lieutenant. As he stood and looked at her, they both heard through the closing Computer Center door, "Alright, boys and girls, let's retask Boris and Natasha and see if we can get some film on this lost Inca city! And someone get Sir Basil on the phone at the Royal Geographic Society in London and tell him we'll return the remains of King Arthur, in exchange for a year's worth of study on that Roman execution order for Jesus of Nazareth." Niles was now in his element and happy.

On the screen, with Frank Sinatra still crooning away, the picture of the four people and one alien dimmed, then was gone.

"Well, Specialist," Jack said, "I can't officially ask you to dinner until you're an officer, but would you like to bump into each other at Gino's Spaghetti House later tonight?"

Sarah looked at the major's blue eyes and then looked around her to make sure no one was near.

"I think I would like that..." She hesitated, then lowered her voice. "Jack."

As she turned and walked away, Collins smiled and watched her a moment, then looked around him at the clean, plastic-lined walls outside the Computer Center and knew he was now at home at the Event Group.

"A quest for the riches of the earth brought them to the waters of legend and the greed of man came and destroyed the way of innocence, and the ancient one rose from the depths to consume them."

-- FATHER ESCOBAR CORINTH

CATHOLIC PRIEST TO THE

FRANCISCO PIZARRO EXPEDITIONS

The survivors of his once proud and now cursed expedition were holed up in a large green basin that was fed water by the large and very deep tributary of the Amazon, at least ten leagues from the site of last night's massacre. The large lagoon, which for all practical description was much more like a small lake, lay before them. They had waded along the shore of the tributary, following the treacherous rapids to gain entrance into this hidden Eden that had trees so tall they stretched away and over the dark waters.

It was something Captain Padilla had never thought to see in his lifetime. Beautiful as it was, it was not the kind of place one would choose to conduct a massacre of the small people if they chose to attack them here. It truly was a place God had sculpted when last upon this earth. Tree branches hung out over the water and soft grasses grew all the way to the slow-flowing lagoon. The walls of what had to be an ancient and extinct volcano rose on three sides, actually leaning out over the lagoon, creating three natural shelves.

Flowers of every variety bloomed and nourished honeybees that gently moved from species to species, never noticing or caring about the sudden invasion by the Spaniards. The strange flowers that grew with only small dapples of sunlight were large and the most fragrant Padilla had ever smelled.

The ancient volcanic bowl was not only fed by the Amazon tributary but also by a mammoth waterfall that fell from high above on the far end of the large lagoon. But that was not the outstanding feature of the small valley. There, flanking either side of the tumbling waters of the falls, were pillars. They were at least a hundred and twenty feet high and carved from the surrounding rock, and they supported an arch that vanished into the white waterfall of the river above. Vines coursed through the cracked and weatherworn pillars and in several places had separated the stone completely, making them look as if they would fall at any moment.

Now here he stood, trying to decide if he should make their last stand or continue the insanity of running deeper into the green hell beyond the lagoon. The men knew there might be something here because of those giant pillars, but they had lost all interest in riches and just wanted familiar sights, even Pizarro was preferable to this madness.

Maybe the villagers would take the decision out of his hands and just leave them be, allowing them to go back and skirt the village to the north or south on their trek back into Peru. He would then personally report to the fool Pizarro that the expedition had been for naught, there was nothing but death waiting for any man in the distant valleys of the Amazon.

While he wrote his thoughts down in his personal diary, the map he had made of their travels fell from the back pages where he had placed it. As he bent over to retrieve it, he hesitated momentarily as he was suddenly tempted to leave it to rot on the ground. Then he considered his men and picked it up and placed it back into his journal.

His thoughts of leaving the map so no one could follow were broken by the harsh laughing of the very man who had caused so much horror in the last twelve hours. Such laughter after the spilling of so much blood seemed wrong. The captain looked over at his men. Joaquin Suarez was kneeling by the water with his hair freshly wet after washing the blood from himself and his armor. The soldiers around him looked on and shook their heads, all knowing this man was a danger to them all with his recklessness.

Padilla reached down and retrieved his helmet and that was when he caught a glimpse of a strange visitor to their makeshift rest area. The huge eyes were there for the briefest of moments before whatever it was scurried off through the thick foliage, using it as cover as it slid silently into the waters of the lagoon. Captain Padilla looked around to see if his men had seen the strange little creature, but they were busy washing and lying on the thickly carpeted grass; some of the more experienced soldiers were even knelt in prayer. He once again peered into the thick undergrowth for some sign that the little creature had been there at all, but there was not a trace. He quickly came to the conclusion that it had been nothing but a trick of his overtaxed mind and the darkened jungle floor. Suddenly there was a rustling of bushes behind him and his hand went to his sword.