Free The Menagerie 2 (Eden) by Rick Jones

his body unscathed. But his adoration for Alyssa, his overwhelming need to want her to feel safe by his side, overshadowed everything. With just the slightest hint of reluctance, he said, “You’re right.”  He then looked at the laptop in her hand and pointed to it. “So . . . show me what you’ve got.”
    Now it was her turn to smile.
     

 
     
     
    CHAPTER NINE
     
     
    “He knows who we are,” said Whitaker, laying his helmet on top of O’Connell’s desk, which inspired O’Connell to proffer a look of annoyance. Catching the look on O’Connell’s face was not enough for Whitaker to remove his helmet, as he took a seat before the official’s desk. “He knows who we are.”
    “Who?”
    “Savage.”
    “What did he say?”
    Whitaker leaned forward. “He knew about the Tally-Whackers. Recognized the emblems.”
    “And.”
    Whitaker fell back into his seat. “I played it down. Told him there was no such thing.”
    “Did he believe you?”
    “I doubt it. A guy like Savage, someone who’s been through the ranks and seen a lot of things, heard a lot of things.” He nodded his head. “No, he didn’t believe me.”
    O’Connell shrugged. “Does it really matter?”
    “It does if he starts talking.”
    “Who’s he going to talk to? We’re 2000 feet below sea level.”
    “Not now. I’m talking about when he surfaces. The guy doesn’t have TS clearance.”
    “He’s a SEAL. He knows how to keep secrets. We can trust him. And we need Ms. Moore. She wouldn’t come unless he was with her. Apparently they’re a team.”
    “Look. There’s a high probability that someone on board this ship has the ability to compromise our position with intel—a high probability, which is why my watchdogs are here. You know firsthand what has to be done in order to preserve our station, should we be compromised. We take the data and run. Everyone else becomes expendable to ensure that the compromiser has been taken out.” He pointed to two PC’s on O’Connell’s desk, each one flanking Whitaker’s high-tech helmet. “You got the data?”
    O’Connell leaned forward. “You wanna know what I got? I got squat. Absolute . . . squat. And you wanna know why? Because these pinheads we got working for us—these so-called geniuses—can't break a code to decide anything in order to move to the next level. So there’s no intel for anyone to appropriate because we don’t have anything for anyone to appropriate. And that’s why we need Alyssa Moore.” He leaned back into his seat.
    “I agree. All I’m saying is once she opens a gateway, then the operation shuts down completely and the assets, all the assets, are to be terminated without prejudice. Those are the orders, Mr. O’Connell, from people who sit behind a bigger desk than you. I’m just here to make sure that you understand that.”
    O’Connell’s radar went up. “Do you have orders that supersede mine? Orders I should know about? Maybe from the Joint Chiefs?”
    Whitaker pointed to the PC’s. “You just get your data, chief. And never mind about my duties. They’re set in stone.” Whitaker stood up, grabbed his helmet, and offered O’Connell a wink that seemed somewhat vulgar and sarcastic in nature. “You just get the data,” he repeated, and left the room.
    O’Connell’s chest deflated. Now he knew. Reading between the lines with Whitaker wasn’t all too difficult. The Tally-Whackers weren’t here acting as mere scarecrows to keep the masses in line. They were here because they were assassins. Once the intel was gathered, it would then be relayed to the TS community at Area 51 where the best scientific minds in the world would begin to reverse engineer the data for the explicit use in military applications.
    . . . It had always been about the military . . .
    And now it all came together, the communication with Deputy Director of Defense Daniel McCord and his standoffish demeanor, and how he had to coerce the man into sending a DSRV for a