Seven Hours Earlier…

  The Monday morning light gleamed brightly through the windshield as Dad’s BMW slowed to a halt at the checkpoint. Eric was already extending his military ID through the open window before the guard could finish his standard greeting.

  “Lieutenant Layton,” he said with practiced efficiency. “Here for General Rikker. My mother, Cassandra, has a nine o’clock debriefing.”

  The guard’s eyes flicked from the card to Eric’s face, then to the front passenger seat where Cassie sat motionless, her hands folded in her lap as if she was already bracing for impact. The scanner beeped once—green—and the barrier lifted without a word.

  Eric pulled down the short drive and found a parking space in front of the nondescript building he and his mother had come to last Thursday to confess to the General about the family’s Ethian origins. Eric turned off the car and just sat there for a long moment, dreading what came next.

  “You haven’t said much this morning. In fact, you’ve been rather quiet over the weekend.” Mom said, not moving to open her door to get out. The clock on the dashboard declared it six minutes before Mom’s first scheduled debriefing was supposed to start.

  “I’ve had a lot to think about,” Eric said vaguely.

  It was true, of course, but since Friday night when he’d shaken loose the memories that Arnold had hidden from Eric for nearly twenty years, all he could think about were those memories and what both his fathers had done to keep Eric in the dark. He still felt the anger rolling through him.

  “You’re angry,” Mom simply stated. “At me?”

  Eric blinked at her, surprised that she’d picked that up. He had been careful to hide his feelings from Emmaline and his mom, or at least he thought he had. She must have read his confusion on his face.

  “That’s my Dome-ni. Remember?”

  And then he remembered that moment in the back of the SUV on the way to the General’s office when she confessed her special Ethian skill and he got to feel how she truly felt about him.

  Dammit. How could he forget about that? Though even as he thought that, Eric knew why, because he’d been too consumed by his dad’s Dome-ni––the one that had manipulated his memories and made Eric forget all about when he first met Michael––or Adar, actually.

  He saw that little boy’s face in his mind’s eye now. Adar had been so quiet, so sad, and the younger version of Eric hadn’t known how to help him, so he attempted to be the best friend he could be.

  “Did you know what Dad––Arnold was going to do? Were you in the decision to wipe my memory?” Eric asked without looking at his mother. He was almost afraid to hear her answer, but realized that he desperately needed to know.

  “You remembered then?” She asked quietly.

  “Yes.”

  It was a moment before she spoke. “I didn’t feel like it was my choice to make, so I left that to Roger and Arie.”

  “But you didn’t stop them,” Eric said, the accusation soft yet heavy between them.

  Mom looked out the passenger-side window. “Your and Michael’s safety was our biggest concern. Ignorance felt… kinder, considering everything.”

  The dashboard clock ticked to 8:56; a subtle chime signaling the approaching debriefing. She turned back to him, and there were tears glistening in her eyes. “I was caring about you even then, Eric, and I saw how upset you had become about the change in Michael. I loved that you cared so much, but I also hated what us being here was doing to you.

  “It was sit you down and tell you everything, or take your memories away. Your dad––Roger––ultimately made the choice. He said it all came down to us lying to you, or you having to lie to everyone else. In the end, your dad did not want you to carry that burden.”

  Eric blew out a long breath and with it some of his anger. “It still hurts.”

  His mom reached out a hand and placed it on top of his that was still grasping the steering wheel like he was using it as a prop to hold himself up. “I know, and I am sorry we caused that to happen. If we hadn’t been in your life…” she trailed off.

  Eric pondered that for a moment. What would his life have been like if she, Arnold, Michael, and Emmaline had never been a part of it? Most likely, he would have ended up in an orphanage after his birth father had died, and who knows after that. He certainly would never have known the loving environment Arnold and Cassandra had adopted him into. Yes, the lies hurt, yes the anger was still strong, but how much worse off would his life have been if those strangers had not stumbled into his life? Eric shivered at the thought.

  “Maybe everything happens for a reason?” Eric turned his hand around and squeezed hers.

  “I know it does,” she gave a small smile through her tears.

  Eric eyed the digital clock again. It read 8:58. “We really should go. You don’t want to be late on your first debriefing. They frown on that sort of thing.”

  Mom withdrew her hand and wiped her eyes. “Yeah, I suppose I should get this over with. Will you be here when I’m done?”

  Eric shrugged. “I’m not sure why Rikker sent me a text last night asking me to come with you this morning, so I don’t know. Maybe? I mean, I know I’m supposed to pick up Emmaline after school, but we can swing back here and get you. Or I can leave the car and just take a rideshare to get her. He handed his mother the keys.

  Instead of taking them, she pulled a key ring from her purse. “I’ve got the spare. I put it on my ring a few days ago. I never really needed to use it before, but with everything being so…” She trailed off without finishing.

  “Yeah,” Eric said softly. He slipped the keys into his jacket and opened his door. She did the same on the other side.

  They were silent as the two of them walked toward the front door. His mom was probably thinking how the debriefing would go, and Eric was most certainly thinking about why the General had texted him to come as well. He had his suspicions, but Eric kept them to himself. There was no point in saying anything until he heard what the General had to say.

  As soon as they entered the building, they were intercepted by two straight-faced gentlemen. One in an Airman uniform and another in a suit. The man in the suit stepped forward.

  “Mrs. Layton,” he said with a flat, affectless voice that could have belonged to anyone or no one, “this way, please. Lieutenant, you’ll accompany the sergeant.”

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  Eric watched as the man in the suit led his mother to an elevator in the far corner, and the Airman began to walk down the long hall that Eric and his mom had traveled last week. They stopped just in front of the General’s door. The Airman tapped once, then ushered Eric inside without a word.

  General Rikker sat at his desk with a phone to his ear. He looked up and motioned for Eric to take a seat. Rikker then held up a file folder for the Airman to take, and then the man quickly exited the office.

  Rikker finished his call with a clipped “Understood,” then set the handset down as though it might detonate.

  “Lieutenant,” he said, eyes flicking to the door to be sure it had sealed, “I hear your family has opted to do surgery for Arnold?”

  “Yes, sir. It seems the next best step.”

  The General nodded. “On a personal note, I hope it’s a success and he wakes up. On a professional note, I still hope he wakes up, but he’s going to have a much harder time of it than your mother, I’m afraid.”

  Eric pressed his lips together. This was one of the things he’d been expecting, if for no other reason than Dad’s mind-bending ability. “The government is classifying him as a threat?”

  The General frowned. “At the moment, we aren’t exactly sure what to do with him, but if or when he wakes up, Arnold will have to remain with us for a time until we figure that out.”

  “I see,” Eric said simply.

  Rikker eyed him shrewdly. “You don’t seem very put out by that prospect.”

  Eric took a moment to gather his thoughts, and then spoke. “Let’s just say I know firsthand what his mind-bending abilities can do.”

  The General leaned back in his chair, but he did not reach for a cigar. In fact, his desk was empty of any signs that he liked to smoke. There wasn’t even any unpleasant smell assaulting the air. Rikker was all business today.

  “I know the last time you were here, you mentioned something about that. Why don’t you fill me in on any updates.”

  Eric took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Then he plunged forward, telling the General about the phrase Mom had given Eric to shake the memories loose, and then a summary of the memories that had come back to him. After he was finished, the General had a tight, unreadable expression, as if the story had clicked another piece into a puzzle he was assembling in secret.

  “I appreciate the information, and you’ll need to be fully debriefed so we have that on record.”

  “Of course, “ Eric said, fully expecting that response.

  The General studied him for a moment––not hostile, not friendly. Just assessing Eric. When he finally spoke, the man’s tone had a hard edge to it. “I’m going to be direct. Given your exposure to Arnold’s mental manipulation and your familial ties to extraterrestrial entities, I’m afraid we can no longer allow you to serve in an active capacity as a Navy SEAL.”

  Eric felt it land like a punch in the chest, even though he’d fully expected this too. He first started expecting it when he’d been in this office the first time with his mother, but it didn’t really hit him as an inevitable conclusion until he retrieved his hidden memories. It was then that he fully understood how much he’d been altered and knew that the government would find such a thing a threat. The military could not trust a soldier who had been altered by a foreign entity or did not really have an idea of how the mind control worked.

  Eric kept his breathing even. “I understand, sir.”

  Rikker’s stare softened a millimeter. “Good. Effective immediately, you are no longer deployable. We’re putting your security clearance on hold while we run a full battery of tests––medical, psychological, the works. I assure you that this is not a punishment, Eric, but an attempt to make an assessment of how much you have been compromised.”

  Eric noticed the General used his first name probably to soften the blow and to remind Eric that Rikker was a friend before Eric had ever signed up with the Navy, which on some level he appreciated, but it still stung all the same. Eric had made a commitment to his country and desired to serve to the best of his ability, and now he was being benched for something he had no control over.

  “So what happens when I get myself cleared?”

  Rikker tilted his head. “That depends on you.”

  Eric blinked in question.

  “Once we’ve determined you aren’t compromised or haven’t compromised the United States Navy, you can request separation. Clean, honorable, quiet. The Navy thanks you for your service and pretends this never happened.”

  Eric’s hands curled into fists. “And the other option?”

  Rikker opened a drawer, took out a blue folder and then slid the folder across the desk, but didn’t open it.

  “The President has authorized the creation of a joint task force. Its mandate is to understand the extraterrestrial entity designated Ethia and to prepare contingencies should any representatives return. Officially, it is called the Classified Interagency Defense and Preparedness Task Force. Unofficially, we are just calling it Project Sentinel. If the Ethians come back, we intend to be ready.”

  Eric didn’t touch the folder.

  “I’m Air Force,” Rikker continued. “But this task force is joint. Army. Navy. Intelligence. Civilian science. And one liaison, if he signs on, who understands both the human cost and the classified reality.”

  Eric met his eyes. “You mean me.”

  “I do. I think you are uniquely qualified for this job. ”

  Eric’s voice dropped. “Because my family is involved.”

  “Yes.”

  “Because my adoptive father might be dying.”

  “Yes.”

  “Because my brother was taken.”

  Rikker didn’t hesitate. “Especially because of that.”

  Eric leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling for a second before looking back down. “If I take this assignment… am I still a SEAL?”

  Rikker considered the question. “On paper? For now. In reality? No.”

  The words hurt more than Eric expected. He had loved being a SEAL. He might not have always liked the work, but he knew he was making a difference on each of his missions. He would also miss his teammates and friends. They would not even know why he’d been abruptly taken off the active duty roster. Eric would just be gone. He doubted they’d even let him go back to base to clean out his stuff. They’d just pack it up and mail it to him. Eric had seen it happen before.

  “You’ll retain rank and pay,” Rikker continued. “No trident on your chest. No deployments. No team.”

  “And if I say no?”

  “Then you walk away,” Rikker said evenly. “And everything you know stays classified for the rest of your life.”

  Eric laughed once, sharp and humorless. “That’s not really a choice.”

  Rikker didn’t argue. He simply sat there, waiting for a response.

  Eric looked at the unopened folder; the decision already settling into place. Rikker hadn’t forced his hand, but he’d certainly made any alternative more unpleasant.

  “Am I protecting my family… or helping you use them?”

  Rikker’s gaze was steady and unyielding. “Both.”

  Eric swallowed.

  “And if I cross a line?” Eric asked. “If I decide I don’t like where this is going?” Because he could think of many ways this could go badly for him, for his family.

  Rikker leaned forward slightly. “Then you’ll be the first to tell me. Because if you don’t, someone else will.”

  Another stretch of silence.

  Finally, Eric reached out and opened the folder.

  He didn’t read it. He didn’t need to. And realized he’d already decided as soon as Rikker had told him about the task force, because what else could he do? Eric still felt strongly about serving his country, but he also realized that if he took this position, he might also help his family. It would be a hell of a line to walk. That was for sure.

  “I’ll do it,” he said. “But understand this, sir––my loyalty to the United States doesn’t erase my loyalty to my family.”

  Rikker nodded once. “I wouldn’t trust you if it did.”

  He stood and extended his hand.

  “Welcome to Project Sentinel, on the condition you pass your review, of course.”

  Eric stood and shook it. “Of course. When does it start?”

  “An Airman is waiting outside to fly you to Bethesda. Full-spectrum workup starts at thirteen-hundred; psych panel at fifteen. After that, it depends on those running the review and how you come through it. Bring nothing; they’ll issue everything, including a change of clothes. Expect to be gone for several days. A week at the most.”

  “What about my mother?” Eric didn’t really like the idea of just bailing on his family, but he did not think that Rikker was going to take no for an answer. Eric was sure this had been set up before he had even been texted to come in today.

  “She will be informed of what’s going on. It’s better to get this over with now so we can get you onto the project as soon as we can.”

  Rikker handed over a temporary badge. “Clip it where it can’t be seen. The Airman will brief you on restricted areas.” His voice dropped. “Don’t talk to anyone en route. They will let you know when and if you can make calls out after you get there.”

  Eric nodded as he took the badge and clipped it onto his polo shirt’s front pocket underneath his windbreaker. He slipped the windbreaker back on; the badge hidden beneath.

  At the door, Rikker added, “Whatever they find in Bethesda, remember—your family needs you sharp, and so does your country.”

  Eric met the General’s eyes one last time, then stepped into the corridor where the Airman waited, silent as a shadow. He followed the Airman down the corridor, his shoulders squared despite the weight of everything Eric was leaving behind––his team, his identity as a SEAL, the life he’d built for himself. All of it now gone. It left him feeling raw and deeply unsettled. So much so that Eric completely ignored the gnawing feeling in his gut that he had forgotten something terribly important.