Area 51: The Truth by Robert Doherty Page B

disappeared, but Garlin’s hand was already moving, directing the probe to bring it back in more detail.
    The stones reappeared—but now there were six upright, and three lintels across the top. Around the base was a cluster of white-robed figures holding torches. The stones were over four times their height. The Swarm tentacle inside Garlin recognized the center two stones as those that been placed there in the previous scene by Duncan and her partner when they had buried their craft.
    And there she was in the image, standing near the rear of the group, a hood covering most of her face. The man was to her right. There was the glint of armor underneath his robe.
    The scene faded.
    Garlin manipulated the controls. The humming noise grew louder. Duncan’s back arched, then she slammed back down on the steel surface.
    The image reappeared, except the chanting crowd was gone. Just Duncan and the man. A full moon hung overhead, casting long shadows from the standing stones. The man had a sword in his hand and was looking about anxiously. Duncan moved forward to the center stones.
    Duncan cried out, a mixture of pain and denial. Her body vibrated against the table and restraints. Then suddenly she stopped.
    The image disappeared.
    Garlin shifted his gaze from the screen to the table. Duncan was still, not moving for the first time since he’d placed the crown on her head. He reached down, fingers around her neck, feeling for the carotid artery.
    No pulse.
    She was dead.
    Garlin was still as the Swarm tentacle pondered this development for a few moments. Then he was directed to check the Ark, retracing the probe. The cause of death was uncovered almost immediately: an aneurysm in her brain, the cells of the blood vessel set to burst if activity exceeded a certain level in a specific portion of her mind.
    The Swarm had seen such extreme conditioning before among Airlia captives, programmed to die before giving up the final secret. They had never discovered the Airlia’s home world because of this. The captives all died before giving up that information, and captured guardian computers shut down when that data was attempted to be accessed.
    And now Duncan wasn’t revealing where her ship was hidden. She was conditioned to die before giving that up.
    Except Duncan was now immortal. Garlin stepped back and waited. The artery repaired itself. After slightly over a minute her heart began beating again.
    Garlin’s fingers caressed the controls, the Ark’s probe shooting for that memory. To press beyond and find the location.
    The Ark’s electronic probe followed the same path and smashed through the blockage. The screen flickered. Duncan and the man were inside the ship, standing in front of some equipment. The Swarm recognized the scene and gear—two regeneration/sleep tubes. Duncan was older, her hair almost completely white, her back bent with age, her face lined.
    How had they gotten in? Where was the ship?
    The artery gave way, blood poured into Duncan’s brain, and the screen went black. As the virus inside the body rebuilt the artery, the blood in the brain was forced through the brain lining and trickled out Duncan’s ears, forming a pool under her head, staining her hair. The virus she had been given by the Grail not only worked on repairing the blood vessel, but produced additional blood cells as needed.
    Garlin waited, the Swarm tentacle freezing him in place. Waiting was something the Swarm was very good at. Scouts, such as this one, sometimes spent thousands of years on target planets, observing and preparing. Occasionally acting. This Swarm had followed a previous scout’s path into this star system. A scout that had simply disappeared.
    That happened. The universe was a large place, and many dangers accompanied traveling through it. But such a disappearance had to be investigated, even if it was thousands of Earth years later. The weapon that had destroyed this Swarm’s scout ship was something that had not been