“That said, gentlemen, I do not take kindly to being ambushed with interagency gossip. You have my attention, for now. I hope, for your sake, that what you have come to me with is important enough to warrant this highly unorthodox behavior.”

Barrett looked at Neal, who was nodding appreciatively and biting the inside of his cheek. Yes, quite, interagency gossip. Barrett was proverbially biting his tongue as well. The admiral wants to be impressed with the gravity of their purpose, they thought in unison, I think we can oblige him, and without further digression Barrett begun.

“Admiral,” said the colonel in an official tone, “the events we are here to discuss with you start just over seven months ago, when the King’s Transom was shot at and sunk by an attack from space, killing all aboard.”

The admiral stared wide-eyed at the man, then at Neal, who gently nodded, pensive at the memory but clearly resolute.

“Admiral,” the colonel continued, before the other officer could find the words to reply, “since that day a small but dedicated team has worked hard to identify and classify the source of that attack, and have discovered some extremely disturbing facts that we are here today to share with you.

“We have chosen you very carefully, aware of the fact that the slightest misstep by us, or anyone we share this information with, will have disastrous and far reaching consequences. But we cannot go much further with our work without informing either yourself or some other member of Strategic Command.”

He let that sink in for a moment, but when he saw the admiral about to speak he again preempted him, using a trick Ayala had taught him to control of the flow of the man’s thoughts, “Admiral, we have come to you today with proof that we have been infiltrated by agents from an extraterrestrial force. That, along with the vastly more extensive documentation we have compiled offsite, will show you, conclusively, that they have already penetrated deeply into our world’s key military institutions.”

With that, the colonel began to take a photo of Lana Wilson from a file in his lap, but Neal stopped him, “Colonel, before we get to that, why don’t we discuss in more detail the attack in India, and what has happened since. We’ll get to the agents themselves in good time.”

The admiral stared at them both. Were they mad? They clearly meant what they were saying. If this was a joke he would have them both thrown from the building, and the colonel would be dismissed from the service when the admiral had finished with him. But even as the indignant admiral thought that, he knew that they weren’t joking at all. Neal may have been capable of such a thing, but not this man Colonel Milton. He had met a thousand men like him. He did not play with admirals and generals. He knew his duty too well.