David Golemon - Event

Everett stood. "He wants you, Major," he said, still looking at the gunnery sergeant. Then he reached for the wounded man.

Collins placed Gianelli gently into the arms of Everett. "Get him to the car, Commander."

"Yes, sir," Everett replied.

Collins bent over the still form of Gunnery Sergeant Lyle Campos.

"Sorry, Major," the old man whispered. "Caught me with my drawers down."

"It happens to the best of us, Gunny."

Mendenhall turned away.

The marine shook his head. "No excuse... too damn old to play soldier.

"Major," Gunny said, barely whispering as his eyes started wandering off over the major's right shoulder into the blue sky, "the men that killed me, I think they were shooting at the... the French..."

Collins leaned closer. "Frenchman?"

"Fa... Farbeaux... fit... his description." Campos coughed, blood spilling onto the front of his shirt. His eyes focused for a moment. "Sorry for letting him get away. He fired on the fucks... that... killed me," Campos whispered, then died, his eyes still looking at the cloudless sky.

Jack closed Gunny's eyes. Flashbacks of operations gone bad snapped to the forefront of Jack's memory. After he had just told the senator he would never be a part of hurried planning again, here he was, holding another dead soldier in his arms. He shook his head to clear it.

He heard O'Connell exit the club and Sergeant Mendenhall go to help him with Reese. Collins now stood and looked at the young private who had carried the dead computer tech. Reese's blood was soaking into the marine's yellow Hawaiian shirt and onto the black videocassette he held. Mendenhall had the body in the backseat and Everett was already getting the car started.

"We better boogie, sir, it sounds like the entire Vegas police force is charging this place."

Collins said nothing as he reached down and pulled the gunnery sergeant up and carried him like a child in his arms to the car.

Now Jack Collins knew why the Event Group had needed someone like him. The people whom the Group was butting heads with were not mere mercenaries; these people were trained and had assets. Henri Farbeaux might not be working for the French government, but one thing was for sure: to have a setup like this in one of the most secure cities in the world, he wasn't working alone, and whoever that employer was, it wanted that saucer as much as the Event Group.

The platform was crowded with personnel as word had spread that a field team was coming in with casualties. As the sleek monorail transport pulled next to the loading area, Collins still held the lifeless body of Gunnery Sergeant Campos.

Everett stood first and handled Private Gianelli with gentle and agile movement. Waiting EMTs started working on the boy as soon as he was laid on the stretcher. Private O'Connell walked alongside talking softly to his friend as they moved him to the elevator.

Others on the platform moved aside as Collins lifted the body of the old marine out into waiting arms. There was a surreal silence at that moment as the major looked into faces of men and women he didn't know. He bent over and with the help of Everett lifted up the lifeless body of Reese. They handed him over to the EMTs, then stood and stepped out of the transport. All the while Collins felt the wetness of the blood of both Reese and Campos soaking through his nylon jacket. He smelled the coppery odor he had smelled a hundred times before this terrible day, in fields and towns around the globe, but never here in the streets of his country.

He looked at Everett, who was now speaking in low tones to a woman whom he recognized as Signalman Willing. Next to her was Sarah McIntire, whose eyes followed the body of the gunnery sergeant as it too was laid on a gurney next to the one in which they had laid Robert Reese. Then both bodies were covered with red sheets and wheeled away.

Sarah looked back at Collins, hesitated a moment, and then, gathering courage, walked toward him. She was dressed in the standard blue jumpsuit, and her hair was under a red baseball cap all the geology team wore. She had books under one arm.

"Are you all right, Major?" she asked, seeing all the blood that covered him.

Collins looked at Sarah, then beyond her for a moment, then met her eyes. "I've been better, Specialist."

She looked back at Lisa, who had finished talking with Everett and was looking at her curiously. Even Carl raised an eyebrow in their direction.

"You weren't hit or anything? I mean, you are absolutely covered in blood."

Collins continued to look at her and then down at his jacket and pants. "No, it's not mine. Why is everyone here?"

Sarah looked around and then back into the army officer's troubled face. "Word spread pretty quickly, and before you think it, we're not morbid, it's just that we all knew Gunny and liked him very much. He was a fixture here for a long time. This is a pretty small and very tight organization. Everyone knows everyone."

Collins looked at her a moment, sadness etching his hard features, then he turned and left.

Sarah watched him leave as she brought her books to her chest and breathed deeply. Everett and Lisa joined her.

"How's the major doing?" Lisa asked.

Sarah just shook her head and then looked at Carl. "Does he have any idea he's just a man, Commander, and not immune to feeling for his men?"

Everett watched the elevator doors slide closed.

"No, Sarah, he knows he's a man, but he's also a soldier that's seen too much shit and wants people under his command to go home at night."

Sarah turned and looked into the blood-smeared transport for a long time before she turned away and followed Carl and Lisa, waiting for the next elevator to take them down into the complex.

Jack had cleaned up and changed into a fresh jumpsuit. He had tossed the civilian clothes he had been wearing into the garbage can next to his desk and stuffed an entire newspaper over them. He wanted rid of the clothing that was still damp with the blood of Gunny Campos. He looked at himself in the mirror and rubbed a hand through his short hair. He was numb inside. He felt the inevitable guilt he always felt at not being the one who didn't return alive. A knock at his door interrupted his thoughts.

"Yes," he said a little louder than he wanted to.

"Major, it's Niles, you have a minute?"

Jack again ran a hand through his dark hair and walked the few paces to the door as if it were ten city blocks away and opened it.

"What is it, Doctor?"

"Major, you need to come with me; the senator wants you to hear this yourself."

Jack saw that Niles was in a far worse state than he had been this morning.

"You find the crash site?" he asked.

Niles looked around behind him; after seeing no one in the dormitory hallway, he looked back at Jack. "No, not yet, but now I know the reasons behind why it's so important we find it, and that's what the senator wants to explain. He wants me to sit in, even though I have already read the file. It may explain to you the reason why lives were lost over this. Hell, maybe you should have known from the beginning, but as you'll see, Jack, this is a first and there are no rules written for this kind of thing."

"What file?"

"The file containing reports on what really happened that night in Roswell. Major, please, hurry." Compton turned and left. Ten paces from Jack's door, he turned and looked at Collins again. "Hurry , Major."

Five minutes later, Collins was in the director's spacious office with Niles, Alice, and the senator.

"Thank you for coming. I'll make sure to tell you this as fast as I can," the senator said. "Before you go after the Frenchman and his employers using Europa, Jack, I think it's time you know what we may be up against. I didn't tell the Group the whole story of what happened that night in '47, but you need to know now, because it's looking more and more like the worst-case scenario I have always feared is happening. And the extreme violence that occurred against your team this morning tells me the situation has turned for the worse."