Sandra began writing several years ago to alleviate the boredom of working for county government. The exercise in self-occupation became an obsession and here we are. Ten years in the military and seven in county government as a Geographic Systems Analyst have provided ample fodder for world building and character development.

She has a short story, "Growing Up Dragon ", coming out in the Feb - Apr Issue of Sorcerous Signals.

Dr. Henderson’s continued absence was peculiar. The man was in love with the alien in vault sixty-two and the second anniversary of its capture was approaching.

Sixty-two was the only thing I could remember arousing Henderson’s passion in the three years I'd worked here. Ever since its craft was found in the middle of the Gobi desert, Henderson had made it a special case. The fool had even petitioned to have it released into his custody for a weekend in Las Vegas during some science fiction convention.

If the powers that be had granted that petition, Henderson would have come back with a marriage certificate.

What did the creature have that no human had been able to offer Henderson?

There was the mystique of course: a female with long slender legs, a narrow waist, and a chest you could rest a tray on, all wrapped in a pale green skin. I guess if you were male you could overlook some things, like the antennae or the powerful, ant-like mandibles. Henderson claimed she was amazingly witty and brilliant, but nobody else had ever heard her speak. And now he was MIA.

I slid the door open to sixty-two, raised the taser, and walked inside carrying the tray of raw red meat. I set the tray down. Never once turning my back on the creature, I reversed my steps. It matched my movements. I groped for the door handle. I started to turn the knob, but a hiss from the table made the hairs on my neck stretch for the ceiling. The universal translator kicked on and mechanically uttered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome." I yelped, pushing the door open and hurtling through it. Sixty-two made me nervous. Supreme confidence and relaxation was not expected of any of the prisoners. Vault fifty-four contained a gelatinous blob that quivered and flowed away whenever anyone approached. Thirty-one’s three heads snarled in anger, snapping at whatever came close enough to be eaten. All down the row of vaults, strange creatures of varying degrees of intelligence resided, either too depressed or too frightened to attempt to escape, or angry and trying to escape all the time.

What was Sixty-two’s story? Henderson had tried to tell me once but I didn’t want to listen to him gloat about his special pet. Ok, maybe that was being harsh. He certainly never treated her like anything other than a beautiful woman. In all likelihood, he wasn’t even attracted to Sixty-two’s body, luscious though it was. I glanced through the one-way window into the vault and watched as Sixty-two picked up a piece of meat and chewed it with a delicacy that belied the grotesque nature of the meal. She glanced…It…It glanced toward the mirror as though well aware that I stood there.

Spinning from the window I pushed the cart on to Sixty-three and banged on the door. Flicking the lighting control of the vault revealed the blue-skinned ravening monstrosity within, backed into a corner. It had been here long enough to know that if it didn’t back away it would not eat. To this creature that acted like it wanted nothing more than to eat everything within range I carried a large bowl of pureed vegetables. Its bluster was all show: it didn’t have any teeth, nor did it secrete anything acidic to break food down. After a week of experimenting with various types of foods it had broken its silence and requested ground squash. On holidays I baked it a pumpkin pie.

With rounds finished I called Dr. Henderson. It was unlike him to not call in if he was ill, but he had been pale when he left on Monday. Four rings and the answering machine picked up. Leave a message after the beep, yeah, yeah, yeah…“Hey, Doc, it’s Serena. Hope you’re ok. We were concerned about you. Call us if you’re going to be absent tomorrow." I hung up the phone and went to Dr. Henderson’s office to see if he had left some clue as to where he was, or when he‘d be in.

The office was a wreck, but I'd worked with Henderson long enough to know that this was nothing unusual. After searching the desk I flipped through his journal. Sixty-two filled the pages. How much of this was his imagination and how much was what she really said?

I skimmed through pages, just barely reading, until the realization struck me that some of the conversations were intriguing. Sixty-two claimed to be from the planet Carnid somewhere in the next galaxy. I sank down into the doctor’s chair, absorbed in the details of Sixty-two’s home planet and the worlds that made up her galaxy. Sixty-two even discussed her spacecraft's propulsion units.

I flipped back through the pages two years to where Sixty-two had been retrieved from the desert and brought, barely alive, to Camp Invisible. In the first conversation recorded by Dr. Henderson she named herself Twila, and told him she had been fleeing from law enforcement officials who accused her of murder. It didn’t say who she was supposed to have murdered but whoever it was had been important enough for them to chase her out of her own galaxy. A collision with a small asteroid had damaged her ship and she had crashed on Earth.

I read on, pausing only when the phone rang or somebody popped their head in the door needing me to do something. One of these days I’d be important enough they wouldn’t call on me to clean up every stray glop of goo. Until I took the intern position here I'd never realized blood came in so many colors.

Dr. Henderson’s growing infatuation was evident in the words he wrote. As I read on, I noted that not once did he bring up matters of how her species related with one another. Sixty-two’s world was here in living color but nothing on a personal level. Had Henderson not asked or had he not written about it? Curiosity aroused, I vowed to discover what kept Henderson infatuated.

Noon arrived. Still no word from Dr. Henderson. Closing the journal I wandered off to prepare the afternoon feedings. I started with vault thirty-two. Jonathon nodded as he pushed his cart to the first row. “Afternoon, Serena."

I nodded back. My steps dragged as I approached vault sixty-two. Somewhere during the course of the morning reading I had begun to think of Sixty-two as “She”. That was bad. One of the cardinal rules we learned during orientation was, “They are all It. Do not name them. Do not even think of them as male or female. This is a research facility. If you choose to get too close to the subjects they may use that against you. These are beings capable of interplanetary travel. Never give them the upper hand. If anybody violates these rules they will be terminated." I shivered even now, remembering the tone of that comment. I still pondered the exact meaning of the word 'terminate'. It was why I hadn’t turned Dr. Henderson in. I still wasn’t certain how he’d managed to conceal his infatuation when he requested permission to remove her…it, from the premises.

Maybe he had been found out after all. But if he had been “terminated”, why had no one told me he wouldn’t be returning?

I passed my card over the locking mechanism. The click coincided with the snick of the safety being thumbed off on the taser. Sixty-two stood in the back, a step closer than she had been this morning. Did those two words I spoke give it the impression it could take liberties? All the prisoners knew the mark. I gestured with the taser and Sixty-two backed up that single step. Her mandibles clacked and my heart beat erratically. Clenching the taser I shuffled my way to the table. Sixty-two’s evening meal was raw fish; her systems required the variation.

It didn’t wait for me to make it out the door before speaking this time. The translator churned out, “Thank you, beautiful human." The words set my heart hammering. Was this thing coming on to me? I stuck to the tried and true, “You’re welcome." The compliment eased my mind enough that I did not slam the door as I passed through it.

My mind remained in vault sixty-two. The green skin was alluring. I shook the thought from my head and paid attention to my duties as I thumped on Sixty-five’s window.

I finished my rounds and returned to Dr. Henderson’s office, checked the answering machine and returned to reading the journal. Henderson described graceful architecture, all curves and spires. Well-maintained forested areas that sounded like state parks and large bodies of water. Other than the fact that the buildings sounded more grandiose than here on Earth, the words could have described the very world I lived on.

Slamming the journal down on Dr. Henderson’s desk, I rose to my feet and stalked out the door. Those were dangerous thoughts. I couldn’t afford those thoughts. Tomorrow maybe I’d switch halves with Jonathon, let him deal with Sixty-two coming on to him. What did it hope to accomplish by saying I was beautiful? In the back of my mind a small voice whispered, “Friendship, perhaps.”

Through three levels of security I worked my way to the upper level. The final check was a retina scan. Security was tight going out as well as in, ever since a shapeshifter killed an intern and escaped. It had been long gone before anybody became aware of the shift. Fortunately, no matter how it morphed the tracking chip implanted during capture functioned properly. It had been tracked down within two days, but not before it killed a Colonel and attempted to gain access to its ship. So I leaned over to give the scanner a clear view before heading for parking lot A.

My small green Jetta, affectionately known as “The Frog”, waited in the far corner of the covered lot. I flicked the remote lock and listened to the beep as the car welcomed me. Once behind the wheel I reached over and pushed a red button on the column of the steering wheel, then sat back to await permission to leave. Three other employees sat in their vehicles. When there were no overhead flights or other traffic outside Camp Invisible we would all race for the exit. Nobody wanted to sit and wait if the green light changed before they could depart. I turned the key in the ignition and was gratified when the little car purred to life. Five minutes later the light flashed green and I slid The Frog onto the exit ramp. The Jetta responded as I goosed the accelerator, slipping in line ahead of Jonathon. I waved to him and breathed a sigh of relief as I edged out onto the two lane road that went past the facility. As soon as Jonathon made it onto the road, sand washed across the tracks concealing the pathway to the underground garage.

Hunger gnawed at my stomach. The Berdeen café was closest. Turning the car south I drove the ten miles to the two-horse town that was the only source of food for thirty miles. We rarely ate here because the Camp directors didn’t want too many questions asked by the folks who lived there, at least not by those who weren’t Camp Invisible employees. The General lived in Berdeen. My mind worked over the thought that Dr. Henderson lived in Berdeen as well. It really wasn’t my place to seek him out. If he chose not to come to work, I was sure there was a reason. I pulled into the lot in front of the diner. The Frog was one of two vehicles occupying the five spaces in front of the orange painted adobe brick building. Sanseveria cacti grew close to the ground on the southern end of the building and a tall Carnegia graced the doorway.

A short red haired girl hurried over to hand me a menu before my rump had even warmed the seat. “Southwest grilled chicken and fried potatoes.”

“Yes ma’am, and to drink?”

“Water will be fine.”

Contrary to the number of cars outside, four of the six tables had people sitting at them. Two were clearly residents of the town. The third table looked like an officious government group. Curiosity piqued I tried to eaves-drop on their conversation, but the other voices made it difficult. What I could make out was perfectly average everyday conversation. Of course even if they were headed out to Invisible they wouldn’t be talking about it here.

Just enough time passed for me to start fidgeting when my food arrived. I cast a grateful smile at the waitress, made short work of my meal, and was out the door without the government types looking my way. The Frog came to life and I backed into the road, noticing the government tags on the long dark vehicle parked there. Government plates in this part of the country would attract area 51 enthusiasts aplenty. If they were headed for the Camp, Somebody was going to be in trouble. With a will of its own, The Frog turned down the only side street in town and I found myself parked in front of Dr. Henderson’s home. I got out and went to knock on the front door. It wasn’t my place to check on him but since I was here…

I rapped on the door, waited, then rapped a second time. When I received no response I turned to leave, berating myself for sticking my nose where it didn’t belong. Of course how was I supposed to learn anything if Henderson wasn’t there to teach me? That was the whole idea behind an internship. I looked back at the door and decided to try once more when the drapes moved. Henderson’s pale face peered out. In just two days he had noticeably dropped weight, but he smiled at me and shuffled toward the door. I stood waiting, listening to his dragging footsteps. He was only forty years old and normally spry. What could have happened to him?

The door slid open a bare crack and a hand darted out and waved me in.

As my eyes adjusted to the dark I glanced around at the familiar furniture. A month ago, Dr. Henderson had invited all the interns to his home for a party, but the atmosphere today was different. Suffocating. The scent of illness stung my nostrils and I spun to where an orchid rested in its pot on an end table beside his couch. I leaned over and inhaled its sweet scent.

“Are you all right?” I stood and stared at him. Sunken jowls, bags under his eyes, sallow skin, he did not look well at all. His sarcastic sense of humor remained. “Do I look all right?”

I shook my head. “You look like you ought to be in the hospital.”

Fever burned in his eyes. I approached him and laid the back of my hand on the parchment like skin covering his arm. I snatched my hand away from the heat.

“I can’t go to the hospital." He shook his head, emphasizing his words. “I suspect I won’t be coming back to work. I don’t want anybody to know I’m sick.”

My mind jumped to the obvious. “This has something to do with Camp?”

Henderson nodded, sadness swallowing the fever in his eyes.

I went one more step. “Something happened with Sixty-two?”

Again the nod, a barely perceptible jerk of his head.

“What did you do, Doctor?” I glanced around. Employee’s homes got bugged periodically... For security reasons.

Henderson waved to a small electronic wand in the corner. “I’m clean.” “Can you tell me what happened? It was acting strange today."

Dr. Henderson’s illness couldn't mask his alarm. “Strange how?”

“She spoke to me." I realized my mistake the minute the words left my mouth but I plowed on. “Then when I brought the evening meal she didn’t get to her mark until I threatened her.”

“Don’t threaten her." A burr claimed Henderson’s voice and he rasped the order at me.

“Is she dangerous?”

“More dangerous than you’ll ever know.”

I turned and began pacing. “Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong? If she’s dangerous I think I have the right to know what she’s capable of.”

Henderson reached out and patted my hand. “Don’t worry. You’ll be safe enough. Just promise me you won’t let Jonathon or any other man near her.”

“You’re dying because of something she did to you and you’re still jealous?”

Henderson reached out and laid his hand on the back of mine. The edges of the orchid wilted as he neared it. How was it possible for his body to be so hot? I winced and he removed his hand. It left behind a red print. “This is my fault, not hers. And it’s not jealousy. If you wish to spare their lives you will do as I ask.”

I nodded and backed away, rubbing at my blistered hand. “Will you at least tell me what is happening to you?”

“That should be apparent." His mouth quirked in the familiar half grin I knew so well. “I am dying.” “But why? What did she do?”

“She allowed me to love her. She warned me to stay away from her. She even told me the last man who made love to her was the reason she had been chased across the galaxy. His death left a void in their civilization.”

“How can one man be worth that much effort?”

Henderson shook his head. “If you want to know her story you’ll have to ask her. If I tell it to you, you will have no reason to treat her differently from all the others.”

He was right. Of course he was. It frightened me that he spoke so calmly of his own death. What if the government officials at the café came here and found him? They would suspend operations at the Camp. Probably kill all the specimens, including Sixty-two. That was why Henderson wouldn’t do anything to save himself.

A long black car with government tags cruised by at maybe five miles per hour. I jumped. I hadn’t realized my nerves were so fine-tuned. I glanced guiltily at Henderson. “I should have warned you there were feds in town, at the café.”

“Don’t worry about it. I called them when I thought I was coming down with something that might be contagious. They’ve arrived just about in time to clean up the ashes. Nothing will be left for them to investigate." He glanced out the window as the car kept rolling, on down the road toward the general’s house. “You had probably better leave now.”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I bolted out the door and down the steps. I slammed the ugly green door on my little car and threw it into reverse. Once I was out of his driveway I glanced up and saw flames flickering behind the drapes. Had Henderson set fire to the house or had he self-immolated? I looked at my blistered hand and decided probably the latter. I punched The Frog in drive and headed out of town as quickly as my poor abused vehicle would go.

Home. Rest. Return. I have often thought it would be easier for those of us without families to sleep in the facility, but the PTB thinks we need time away.

Entering work was the same process as leaving it. Our vehicles all had microchips in them to let security know we were arriving. Most of us got there before dawn. It was easier than slowing down and speeding up to avoid other vehicles on the road. I listened to the voice on my headset give me instructions until he finally said, 'Turn now'. I turned left, flipped off my headlights, and zipped through the still opening door. The doors reversed their direction and closed behind me. Thus began another day.

I was stopped at the third level of security. Dr. Gerald was waiting for me. “Dr. Henderson passed away yesterday afternoon in a fire.” There was no sense lying. They'd know I’d been there the same way they knew exactly when to open the underground garage. “That’s terrible." Lord, it’s a good thing I never tried to succeed as an actress. “I stopped to see him after work. I had a couple of questions about the food for vault seventy-three.”

“How did he seem when you were there?”

Now was the time to lie. If I didn’t want to spend the next month in quarantine and sign Sixty-two’s death warrant, I needed to be convincing. “He seemed fine. A little depressed, but he told me the changes I needed to make for seventy-three and sent me on my way.” I watched him closely. Believes me. Believes me not. The expressions running across his face were easy to read. “Did he mention why he hadn’t been to work in two days?”

“He had a bit of a cold. Nothing serious, said he’d be back in the next day or two, but didn’t want to contaminate the work place with viral germs. Said the last time that happened we lost three specimens." Ok, stop rambling. I bit my lower lip, stopping the words. “All right Serena, just be careful down there until we get another supervisor.”

I started to walk away then turned back around and in my most innocent voice mentioned, “There was a car with government tags cruising by Doc’s place just as I was leaving." That would give them a trail to snoop around. The agencies all despised each other as worthless low-lifes. Whoever had been there wouldn’t own up to it, but they’d probably hem and haw long enough that Camp Invisible higher-ups would be sure I was telling the truth.

I turned back to the lower hallway and made my way down to the vaults, heading for the kitchens to begin the long process of preparing forty vastly different meals. When the cart was loaded with the first ten I went and started at thirty-two. Jonathon was just starting his end as well. He waved and we went our separate directions. Thirty-nine was empty this morning. From the mess inside the vault, I decided its resident wasn’t going to return. Sometimes they did that, just went crazy and killed themselves. Or attacked a guard and got themselves killed. Since I’d been working here only one guard had been killed but the red blood mixed with the dark green was a reminder to keep the taser ready at all times. Usually they informed me about incidents when I came on shift. Guess it got lost in Dr. Henderson’s demise. I set Thirty-nine’s breakfast on the lower rack of the cart and went on. Thirty-nine had been a nasty customer. I wasn’t sad it was gone. I finished all the others, leaving Sixty-two for last. If she was willing to talk I was willing to listen. I sat the food down on the table and backed up to the door. “Thanks beautiful,” erupted from the translator.

I flushed but stood my ground. Nobody ever called me beautiful. It had to be a ploy. Mousy brown hair, narrow nose, eyes too close. There was a reason I volunteered to work in a remote facility far away from other human beings. Compared with her figure I looked downright mannish. Maybe she thought I was male. Maybe she wasn’t familiar enough with human anatomy to tell the difference. If she thought coming on to me was going to get her anywhere she was sadly mistaken. I watched as the mandibles pulled in the raw meat while the almost normal teeth chewed it into small pieces. I was so fascinated by what her mouth was doing, I didn’t notice her returning my captivated stare. “Does my eating bother you?”

I shook my head, “I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”

She hissed. The translator turned the sibilant sounds into laughter. “Were you to eat with me I would most likely be equally fascinated." She snatched a piece of meat and tossed it at her mouth. The mandibles caught and shredded it. I wasn’t sure, but it looked as though she injected something into the meat before it left her mandibles. “Did you need something?”

Damn, I was staring again. To cover my embarrassment I blurted out, “Dr. Henderson is dead.”

“I am sorry. As you humans go he was a decent sort.”

“He fancied himself in love with you.”

Yellow eyes gazed at the floor. “I was aware of that. I told him that such an emotion was not possible for me.” “Why not?”

“Because in our society, men remain celibate as long as possible. Females have long term relationships with females. Males are strictly short term relationships with the sole purpose of reproduction as a goal. Or, as in my case, a long term relationship with no physical contact." She picked up another piece of meat. The green of her cheeks deepened. Maybe she wasn’t so nonchalant about this discussion as I had first believed.

“Why was your relationship different?”

She scuffed a foot along the ground and kicked at the table leg. “Did Dr. Henderson not tell you?”

“He said the choice was yours to make if you wanted anybody to know. He wrote a lot of things you told him in a journal but he did not include anything personal.”

“He was a kind male.”

“Will you tell me? He wrote that you killed somebody but not how or who?” Was the room getting hotter? I had no right to ask her these questions. I had never looked at a woman with the interest this alien aroused in me. What was it about her?

“The male I killed was my husband. He was the ruler of Sardidia.”

Dr. Henderson had written about Sardidia, a country that consisted of more than half the land mass of Carnid, her home planet. “If you were his wife then that makes you the queen, or the first lady or…”

“Those titles are close enough. Although in Sardidia the main function of the queen is to bear children. My husband was a jealous man, he would not allow me a female relationship, and in order for him to survive he could not touch me. My life was very lonely, sitting in the top of the palace tower churning out children got upon me by artificial means." A great gob of meat flew into her mandibles. She masticated for a long time before resuming her story. “I grew lonely… did I already mention I was lonely? I did what any self respecting Carnid female would do. The next time he came to visit one of his brats I exuded the mating pheromone. He was unable to resist and so, while I ended up pregnant yet one more time, he died.”

“What exactly happens when you mate?”

“The female Carnid’s body gives off a chemical during intercourse. By the time the male finishes the task he was created for, there is no saving him. There have been instances where he burst into flames before he finished.”

My cheeks burst into flames like those poor unfortunate males. “So they remain celibate or die?” Even I could hear the squeak in my voice.

“They have options. If they want children there are always artificial means. If they want sex they turn to each other just as we females do.” I was uncomfortable with that, “we females." Not certain I wanted to get lumped into the same group as man-killing lesbian aliens. “If you knew this would happen, why would you sleep with Dr. Henderson? He had nothing but love and respect for you.”

An inner eyelid drew down across the yellow orb. “I have no defense. I did warn him. In the end my loneliness won out. I hoped being a different species, the result would not be the same. Apparently our species have some things in common.”

It was difficult to judge the alien features to decide if she was telling me the truth or not. But Henderson’s words backed her story up. “And when your husband went poof…why did they call that murder if it is a natural part of your way of life?”

“We have evolved. With artificial insemination there is no need for a partner to die. But females still carry pheromones designed to ensnare an unwilling mate. The scent lingers long after the flames disappear. The guards knew he had no choice in the mating. Their king was dead. They imprisoned me, sentencing me to die as soon as the last child of King Jerrold was born."

Was that a tear in her eye, squeezing out past the nictitating membrane?

“The moment the babe was born I exuded pheromones again but did not wait long enough for the males to attempt to act upon nature. I left the babe behind and ran. No female attempted to stop me. No male could. I made the space port and thought I’d be safe once I cleared the atmosphere, but they chased me.”

I rolled my eyes in disbelief. “How does a queen learn to fly a spaceship?”

“A queen does not. The queen’s sister in the royal space rangers does.”

“Then where is she?” I couldn’t keep the skepticism from my voice. But I clammed up when tears began to flow.

The membrane lifted and the tear-stained golden eyes turned towards me. “Dr. Henderson’s journals should tell you. She died in the crash." The antennae vibrated and a long forked tongue flickered from her mouth, cleaning away the blood from her meal. “I wasn’t sure if I was better off with you humans, or dead alongside her, but your air-force moves quite rapidly. I did not have the time to extricate myself from the wreckage before the first atmosphere plane whizzed by, investigating my craft.”

“You didn’t use the pheromones on Dr. Henderson, did you?” I was ashamed to have asked the question. She had been a queen. Who was I to judge her?

She pointed to a round orifice just below her jaw line. “I gave him a sample in a test tube, but that was a month ago." I approached the table and did not motion for her to retreat. It was foolish. Worse than foolish, it was stupid. She stood quietly as I picked up the tray. Then I did something I had never done in over two years of working in the vaults. I turned my back on her.

Slender green fingers reached over my shoulder but she didn’t try to stop me. They sent a thrill of expectation through me as they trailed down my side. Moisture tickled my neck and I remembered the long tongue. I froze. This was against every Camp rule.

I reached into my pocket and adjusted the remote to darken the one-way mirror before turning into her embrace.