Jack Allen	43%
Jason Whittaker	35%
Eugene Meltsner	22%

The Time Has Come Part 3
Tuesday, October 29, 2002

"Hey, what is this?" demanded Bryan Dern. The game, which had taken ten weeks of the contestants lives, was finally over and the seven eliminated members of the group had returned to see the final elimination, in which one person would be declared the final loser, one the winner, and one would be revealed as the mole. Those three being named, the former contestants were holding a joyous celebration for the winner – made more joyous, as all the participants who lost received checks for a sizable sum – and had all listened with interest as Eugene recounted how he had done it.

But the celebration had been cut short when John Avery Whittaker had burst rudely onto the scene, gasping for breath, his sides heaving. Richard had rushed to Whit’s side and was watching Barry Muntz, who had returned for the final reunion, warily. The game’s producer, who emerged from an office, appearing on the scene for the first time, joined Dern in his question. "Yes, what is going on? What is this man doing here?"

Monica gasped.

"Stay right where you are," said Richard as the producer made his way towards them. Whit glanced nervously at the others and caught Eugene’s eyes as if trying to inform Eugene of what was going on. "Grab them," the producer commanded a pair of game workers who had joined in the celebration and were eagerly awaiting the promised game-end feast. "Stay right where you are," growled Richard, pulling a gun from his belt. The contestants gasped and the workers shrunk back into the crowd. "Richard," Whit cried in surprise. "Put that thing down!" But Richard shook his head. "I’m sorry, but we’re playing this thing my way," he said. "And Mr. Chairman," he continued, his voice rising as he glared at the producer, causing a few of the contestants to look up in surprise, "get your hands on the table in front of you and don’t even think about reaching for a gun." The producer nervously did as he was told.

"Someone take care of him," said Richard. Jason jumped up from his chair where he had sat riveted by the surprise of his father arriving and the revelation of the producer’s true identity. "What are we going to do with this fellow?" he asked the others as he frisked the chairman. "The closet," said Wooton. "It’s a self-locking door. I know because I went in there to see what they had in there and I kinda forgot not to let the door close on me. But, uh, Connie let me out." So after concluding that the chairman had no weaponry of any form, Jason was joined by Mitch in escorting the man into the closet. "Get moving," ordered Jason cautiously escorted the chairman towards the closet.

Suddenly, the chairman ducked out of Jason’s grip, knocking Jason down with a glancing blow, and raced towards the door. Richard’s hand shot up and he leveled his pistol. "Richard, no!" shouted Whit, and beads of sweat poured down Richard’s face. His arm shook as he gripped the pistol and finally, just as the chairman made it out the door, he holstered his gun and whispered, "I just couldn’t do it." Mitch, after seeing that Jason was in decent physical condition, rushed out the door just in time to see the chairman jump into a small gray car and speed away.

*******

Charles Gordon settled down on one of the plush, expensive beds in his hotel room at The Melrose Hotel in Washington. Near the foot of the beds stood an ornate coffee table with a sparkling glass surface and the room was complete with a designer sofa and chair set. Gordon, five-foot eight, of light build and medium complexion, propped his head up with his hand as he lay on the bed, considering what lay ahead.

On the coffee table, a blueprint was unrolled. One that Gordon had studied for weeks. He remembered the words of his superior when he had been assigned to the mission. "It all comes down to one day," he had said. "One time. You only get one chance, and remember, there’s no room for failure." He rose from the bed and made his way slowly to the sprawling oak desk where he had set up his laptop. The hotel, known for its luxurious suites, had wireless internet access throughout the building, something for which Charles’ computer was equipped. He accessed his email to verify that no new messages of any importance had been sent, and then reviewed the plan in his mind. After satisfying himself that nothing could go wrong, he slipped under the covers of the bed and fell asleep.

*******

"I don’t have it," said Katrina defiantly. "Give it up!" shouted her interrogator. "We know your husband had it and we know he gave it to you. Now where is it?" Katrina’s gray eyes squinted. "I told you, I have no idea what you’re talking about," she snarled. "Stop stalling!" screamed the man, knocking her out of her chair. "Where’s the disk?"

"I told you that there was only one," she said as she got up. "We don’t have that one any more," she finished. "Liar!" said Katrina. "Listen to me," said the man. "We know that your husband sent a disk to the younger Whittaker up in Alaska, but where’s the second disk?" Katrina shook her head slightly in confusion. "There was no other disk," she said. "We got the information on that first disk back, Mrs. Meltsner. A female agent of ours was able to steal the disk and email us the files. And Mrs. Meltsner, only half the files were there. So do what’s good for you and tell me," his voice rose into an angry, high-pitched squeal, "where are the other files?"

"I don’t know," said Katrina, wrestling away from the man’s grip. In his anger he had pinned her against the wall. His grip on her arms was strong and Katrina winced. "If you think this hurts, just wait ‘til you see what else we have for you," he growled, releasing his grip and allowing Katrina to shrink back into the chair. "Now are you going to talk or are you going to play tough and make us get it from you the hard way?"

*******

"Security clearance and ID, please," requested a clean-shaven young man in uniform at the gates to the United States Naval Observatory in Washington, D.C. Charles Gordon and his partner, Ivan Finch, produced federal issue clearance cards. The guard smiled and allowed the two to pass. Before them stood the observatory, a sprawling white building situated on a large lawn that seemed out of place for the District of Colombia. Directly ahead of them loomed one side of the building, a well-sized and somewhat neglected-looking rotunda. On the opposite end of the building sat the actual observation center and the vast majority of the building, a simple and yet impressive Italian-style design, contained the administrative sections of the observatory.

Gordon and Finch entered the building and after identifying themselves were directed to the office of Dr. Demetrius Spalding, head of the observatory’s Time Service department. "Sit down," directed Mr. Spalding as the two entered his office. "Captain Willard and I have reviewed the corrections to your proposal and, as you know by now, SecNav has allocated the funds for the project, so you may proceed." He looked over at a young man in navy whites. "Private Olsen, escort these gentlemen to the master clock transmission terminal."

As Gordon, Finch and the private exited the office, Ivan Finch breathed a silent sigh of relief. They had made it in. The rest would be easy. And who would ever suspect that the atomic clock would move forward the hands towards Andromeda’s midnight – the second attempt at launch date?

*******

"Eugene, you better sit down," said Richard with a lump in his throat. "I am sitting," said Eugene with a chuckle. Whit, who was standing next to Richard, began. "I-I’m sorry, Eugene. I didn’t want to have-to have to tell you this," managed Richard, "but I have to. Eugene, I, uh… Katrina has been kidnapped." Eugene leapt from his chair. "What?" he screamed, anguish apparent in his voice. "Kidnapped? But why? How? By who?" No one had the heart to correct his grammar.

"Calm down, Eugene," said Richard softly. "Calm down?" Eugene screamed. "You just tell me that my wife’s been kidnapped and ask me to calm down? What is this, some sort of cruel joke?" Whit sighed. "It’s no joke, Eugene. We would never be so callous. Katrina was kidnapped over a month ago," he said. "A month!" shouted Eugene. "You waited a month to tell me?" Whit and Richard exchanged glances. "We just found out," said Whit. "The news broke a month or so ago and the description of the woman sounded familiar, but I didn’t quite put it together until Joanne Allen called me the other day about a broadcast in which they described the missing woman and said it sounded just like a description of Katrina."

"Dad, how’d you ever find us?" inquired Jason, joining the conversation. Richard smiled weakly. "I think Jack knows the answer to that," he said, pulling out a cell-phone. Jack stuttered. "Th-the phone call," he said at last. "You mean you were calling Whit?" Richard nodded. "I thought there was something fishy going on around here from the get-go and called up Whit. He told me what had been going on around Odyssey and gave me some heads-up on a few of their unsavory characters." His gaze swept across the room. "I found that two people here perfectly matched Whit’s descriptions," said Richard. "Monica and Barry. Now many of you were inclined to trust them, but I wasn’t. I kept on the lookout and reported everything I got to Whit. You might call me Whit’s mole inside the mole game."

"I thank you for your efforts, Mr. Maxwell, but what about my wife?" demanded Eugene impatiently. "I think everyone needs to know what’s happening," said Whit reassuringly. "I’ve already notified the authorities back in the United States about what I had learned and they’re working on it. Besides, we can’t really act alone on this anyways." So Richard continued his narrative.

"Anyways," he said, "I kind of figured Eugene was the target here. One night I couldn’t sleep and was pacing around when I saw someone at the door to the room Eugene and Jason were occupying. When I got closer, the person ran. I didn’t get a good look at him, but I’d venture a guess that it was Barry Muntz," said Richard. "In fact, I think that’s the whole reason Barry was here. The question that keeps coming back to me is why. I think this whole game was a massive set-up to get all of you guys out of the way, but I’m not sure exactly why or what reason they had for targeting Eugene in particular."

"They hate me," put in Eugene. "Yes, but from what I gather, they also hate Mitch, Jack and Jason, but everything seemed to center around you. These guys don’t operate on hate. They want power and you were in their way – and I’d like to know why, because it may be the key to stopping whatever’s going on before it gets started. And since this group was scheduled to be back in the states in a few more days, I figure we’re running short on time." Eugene nodded. "I heard someone that night you mentioned," he said. "And I’ve, uh," his face reddened slightly with a sense of guilt, "been emailing a contact in Andromeda who’s been saying that they’re after me, but he never said anything about Katrina. And they must be the ones that kidnapped her, am I right, Mr. Whittaker?"

Whit nodded. "I can’t imagine that it could be anyone else," he said. "If only we knew what they wanted." Eugene sighed. "Whoever it was wiped out my laptop’s hard drive a while ago. It’s likely that they did the same to all my equipment in Chicago. They must want some information I have or they think I have and it must be vital," he said. "And since they haven’t said anything to you about Katrina to get you to talk or something, I guess they have other methods. I’m a little afraid that they had bad things planned for both of you," said Richard. Eugene shuddered. The former contestants looked harshly at Barry and Monica and a few cast occasional glances towards the closet. "Maybe we should lock them up too," suggested Jack.

"I’d rather hear them talk," said Richard, his voice tinged in anger. "Barry, think way back to that challenge where you guys were all searching for me. I’ve been, uh, unscrupulously searching everyone’s possessions and found this," he said, clutching a scrap of paper in his hand and shaking it violently, "in Mitch’s cabin. Now Mitch, maybe you can identify this for us?" Mitch looked startled, but accepted the note and nodded. "Yeah, I found this in one of the old shacks when I was searching for you. Couldn’t make anything out of it. But how’d you know I found it then?"

Richard smiled. "I’ve got eyes," he said. "A piece of paper was stuffed in your pocket, sticking out a bit, when we finished the challenge. And on the ride back, you kept fingering something in your pocket. You sure do show it when you’re nervous or excited, Mitch. Beats me how you managed to be a, how would Eugene say it, a proverbial mole inside the Andromeda organization?" Mitch chuckled, but Richard had once again turned serious. "Anyways, I can only assume that this note wasn’t meant for you, which leaves us with the question of who it may actually have been for. And my guess is that Barry was supposed to get it. Get stuck on the wrong side of the road, Barry?"

Barry scowled. "I have no idea what you’re blabbering about," he said. "Oh really?" inquired Richard. "Well, let’s read the letter aloud, shall we?" He handed the note to Jason, who cleared his throat and read it. "Contingency plan proceeding apace; continue surveillance, remove data. We’ll go at USNO when the game ends, so make sure everything’s ready," said Jason, deciphering the scrawl. "Contingency plan?" asked Jason. Mitch shrugged his shoulders. "I figured it had something to do with the game, but could never figure it out. I thought it was a clue of some sort, but if it is, I can’t make heads or tails out of it. What do you think, Jason?"

"Huh?" said Jason, looking up. "Oh, uh," he said, mumbling to himself. "USNO. That sounds somehow familiar." Eugene cleared his throat. "Jason, could it be a military anagram?" he offered. "Of course!" shouted Jason. "The United States Naval Observatory!" Then his voice fell. "But why? That doesn’t make any sense." He looked at Whit. "Dad, if this is all an Andromeda plot, maybe you should tell us all you know about them."

The Time Has Come Part 4
Wednesday, October 30, 2002

Charles Gordon grinned to himself as he and his partner were escorted down the long labyrinth that was the secure area of the United States Naval Observatory. “This way,” said Private Jim Olsen as he punched in a security code at the entrance to an elevator system. “Get in, please,” he said. He punched in yet another number inside the elevator and Ivan chuckled softly. “What, they don’t just use floor numbers here?” Charles smiled, and Ivan continued. “Well, I guess they don’t want you to know how many floors they have. You know, like that place in Arizona. Maybe they keep secret stuff down here or something.” The private escorting them chuckled. “If this place was that important, do you think they’d let a private second-class have the security codes? I can assure you that the only things down here are a bunch of old electronics.”

The elevator’s metal door slid open and the three stepped out. “This is the transmission room,” said Private Olsen. “I understand that you have studied diagrams of this area and understand the procedure?” Gordon took charge. “Yes, we fully understand the installation procedure,” he said. “You may tell your superior officer that we have begun work on the upgrade to the observatory’s radio-to-satellite transmitters.” The private laughed. “My orders are to oversee the installation,” he said. The two men exchanged glances, but Charles Gordon quickly shrugged it off. “I don’t imagine you know much about transmission technology?” he asked the private nonchalantly. “Oh no, nothing like that. I was working towards a degree in biological sciences before I joined the navy. Actually, uh, I didn’t have enough money to pay my way through college, so I signed up for a tour of duty and I’ll continue my education when my time’s up in, umm, two years,” he said. “Anyways,” he said. “Being in the navy has taught me a lot, even if I never have boarded a ship, but you know, most navy personnel actually serve on land.”

The private continued to talk, moving from one topic to another with rapidity and an apparent lack of connection. “Don’t worry, Ivan,” mumbled Gordon as he bumped into him lightly. “This guy wouldn’t catch on if we were wearing big signs announcing what we were doing.” Ivan Finch nodded as he reached into his tool chest and pulled out a small black object with a thin wire coiled around it.

*******

Eugene listened patiently as John Avery Whittaker explained the entire scope of his run-ins with Andromeda. Suddenly, as Whit was talking about Andromeda’s attempt to broadcast their brain-wave signals through radio towers, Eugene burst in. “USNO,” he shouted. “The United States Naval Observatory!” Jason gasped, then asked, “They have the atomic clock there, right?” Eugene nodded grimly. “It is feasible that they wish to broadcast their malicious signal over the satellite feed for the observatory’s atomic master clock, is it not?” Jason frowned, his brows furrowed in thought. “I don’t know,” he said, obviously confused. “It fits in, but how would they get their signal to it? And what would happen then?”

Eugene pondered the problem for a moment, then suggested, “Assuming they could manage to broadcast a beam transmission directly to the observatory, could it not be that they would then uplink this transmission to the navy’s satellites--” Jason cut him off. “Which would in turn broadcast the mind-controlling signal across the world,” he said, finishing Eugene’s thought. “But how would they get the feed to be sent to the satellite in the first place?

Connie picked up the small note from the table on which it had been set. “It says here that they’d go to ‘USNO,’” she said. “Do you think they have guys on the inside?” Jack looked up at Jason. “You’ve got the connections,” he said. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to make a few phone calls.

“Lemme see your cellular,” said Jason, gesturing towards Richard. “Here you go,” Richard mumbled as he handed the phone to Jason. “Hope you can get reception out here.” Jason nodded as he punched in a number with a 202 area code. “Yeah, connect me to James Fennimore in the deputy-secretary’s office, please,” he said into the mouthpiece. Then, covering, the mouthpiece with his hand, he whispered to the others, “Fennimore’s an old buddy of mine who landed a job as aide to Deputy Secretary of Defense Ben Galowitz. “Office of the Deputy Secretary, James Fennimore speaking,” said the voice on the other end of the line. “Hey, Jimmy,” said Jason, “Listen, we’ve, uh, got a bit of an incident over here and I was hoping you could do me a favor.” Without pause, Mr. Fennimore responded, “Hey, buddy, anything I can do! What’s the problem?”

Jason detailed the situation over the phone to Fennimore. “Got it,” said Fennimore. “Right, gotcha. I’ll fax this over to the guys over at Naval right away.” Then he paused. “Jason, why didn’t you call up Sedgwick over at the observatory instead of calling the Pentagon?” Jason sounded surprised. “Sedge is over there now? When’d that happen?” Then he stopped. “Some other time, Jimmy. This could be important.”

“Right. I’ll take care of it, Jason.” Jason sighed. “I hope it’s nothing,” he said. “I’ll act on it as if the survival of the whole world depended on it,” said Jimmy. “It might,” said Jason as he hung up and handed the cell phone back to Richard. “You weren’t far wrong, Jimmy” he said softly.

*******

The chairman spun his wheel hard as blinding lights suddenly appeared out of the darkness. Rain was falling in sheets, obscuring anything that was not already hidden by the thick cloak of blackness. His headlights only penetrated a few feet in front of him and he had been picking his way slowly along the small, winding road for nearly an hour without seeing another car. The headlights startled him. The other car was only a few feet away and advancing quickly when he spun the wheel and his car swerved off to the side of the road to let the other car pass.

Then, after the car had disappeared into the blackness behind him, he picked up his cellular phone, which had been thrown from the dashboard when he swerved, and after considering for a moment, called one of his men, Charles Gordon.

“Charles,” he said after Mr. Gordon, who was working in the U.S. Naval Observatory upgrading their transmission system. “Yeah?” came the reply. “Did you make it in?” asked the chairman. “Yep, we found our way even without a map,” said Charles as he slid off a panel to reveal dozens of knobs and levers. “They aren’t suspicious, then?” As he noted the variance shown on the signal strength indicator as he retuned some of the transmitter’s inner workings, Mr. Gordon thought for a moment. “No, no, I’ve got everything I need,” he said. “Then no one’s watching you?” inquired the chairman. “Well, I wouldn’t say that,” said Charles. “But there’s no need to worry about it. It won’t take much to fix that.”

“How much longer do you guys need?” Charles responded, “Oh, a couple of hours, maybe three. Definitely no longer than three.” The chairman smiled. “Good,” he said simply. “Call me when you’re done.” He ended the call and placed the phone back on the dash.

“The boss?” Ivan asked as Charles slipped his cell phone into its holder, which was clipped onto his belt. “Yep,” came the response. “Well, we’ve got a lot of work ahead of us,” said Gordon, “so let’s get going. Hand me that transistor, will you?” As he reached out to take the transistor from Ivan, he continued. “Yeah, just a few more hours,” he said, then thought to himself, “Just a few more hours… and I’ll be rich.”

*******

“How do you call the police around here?” queried Wooton. “Do you dial nine-one-one?” Jason shook his head. “No, I doubt they have uniform emergency systems around here, wherever here is.” Eugene looked at him rather oddly. “You mean you don’t know?” he asked. “No, I don’t,” admitted Jason. “Should I?” Jack cut in. “Well, don’t feel bad about it, Jason. I definitely have no idea where we are, but I guess your dad does, right Whit?” he said. Whit smiled. “Eugene, where do you think we are?” he asked. “We’re in Sweden, about ten miles away from the sea.”

“And how do you know this?” asked Jason. Eugene laughed. “One of the signs on the way in was printed in two languages. The English version read “Welcome to Sweden.” Wooton jumped it. “That all sounds great, but shouldn’t we call the police?” he asked. “How? You have their number?” Eugene snapped. “Well, I just thought,” began Wooton. “I’m sorry,” said Eugene apologetically. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“He’s right though,” commented Jack. “We do need to do something other than just sit here all day.” Mitch agreed tentatively, but asked, “But what options are there? We could leave in the cars we arrived in, but I doubt we have enough for plane fare. Dern left an hour ago to head back to Odyssey and the producer was supposed to handle everything, but he’s gone now. I’d say we’re stranded out here.”

*******

“Pliers,” demanded Charles Gordon as he capped off a wire. The young private who was watching the two spoke up. “You two, like, aren’t gonna blow this place up or anything, right?” he asked jokingly. “Umm, let me see,” said Charles. “Nope, it’s not in my plans for the day.” The private smiled. “Good. Then I’m going to go get a cup of coffee. Don’t do anything illegal while I’m gone!” Ivan laughed. “So much for rules, regulations and protocol.” Charles agreed. “So, how long until we can get this thing working the way, you know, well,” he trailed off, not sure how to proceed without mentioning their true intentions. “I figure half an hour,” said Charles. “Even with that kid watching us it was easy enough. And now,” he chuckled. “They might as well have handed us the keys to the building on a silver platter.”

*******

“Maroda End,” Eugene mumbled as he paced the room. “There’s something about that name. Maroda End. Dne Ad – no. End Adoram. Nine letters.” He continued walking around, muttering to himself. “Maroda End. Endram… Andromeda!” he declared suddenly. “Maroda End is an anagram for Andromeda!” Monica jumped up in surprise. “I once heard talk of a European headquarters,” she informed the others. “Do you guys think this is it?” Jason looked around at the group. “Only one way to find out,” he said. “You guys with me?”

A few contestants shouted their agreement, and a few mumbled their grudging or concerned consent. Margaret Faye in particular looked annoyed. “As mayor of Odyssey, I feel it is my duty to take charge here,” she began, but Connie, to everyone’s surprise, cut her off. “Mayor, in case you didn’t notice, this isn’t Odyssey, and frankly, you’re just about the last person here that I’d want giving me orders right now,” she said loudly, speaking over the mayor. “And to think I had a fool like you on my campaign,” commented Margaret snidely.

“Margaret!” said Whit, appalled. “Well,” said Jason, “if we’re in Andromeda headquarters, shouldn’t we have a look around? We can’t just sit here discussing it all day!” A few were still hesitant, but finally, all agreed. The group elected to take Barry and Monica with them, but to keep them under close surveillance. “Come on,” said Jason, pushing open a door that lead to a staircase. “Let’s get a move on!”

*******

“If the United Nations refuses the U.S. proposal on Iraq in favor of the one proposed by the Russian and French governments, what impact will this have on America’s attack plans, if they exist?” shouted a man in an expensive suit over the clamoring of other reporters at a Pentagon Press Briefing.

The Secretary of the Navy paused for a moment, then responded, choosing his words carefully. “This question would be better asked of the Secretary of Defense as it is not strictly a naval issue, but allow me to say that the United States is a sovereign nation with the liberty to act outside of the United Nations if indeed it chooses to do so. A compromise in the United Nations simply isn’t enough if it doesn’t include a clause advocating force against Iraq in the event that it does not comply with the standards set forth by the committee. We will certainly continue to work with diplomats in Russia and France in an attempt to come to an agreement over this issue, but let me state clearly that if necessary, the United States can go it alone, as the President and the Secretary of Defense have repeatedly said. The United States Navy is prepared to fight this war and to win it. I believe we--”

The Secretary was cut off by an aide rushing up to him and whispering something to him. “This press conference is over,” announced SecNav as he turned and headed for his office. The aide walked along side him, briefing the Secretary. “Get USNO back on the line,” ordered the Secretary. “Tell ‘em that I’m ordering a complete lockdown of that place. And make sure they grab those men and lock them up!” He strode into his office. “Better yet,” he said, “I’ll make the call.”

At the Naval Observatory, Captain Saul Willard picked up his telephone. “Captain Saul Willard, United States Naval Observatory,” he said. “Yes? What?” The Secretary of the Navy informed the Captain of the information that had been passed on to him. “Unfortunately,” said the Secretary, “this information was first passed on to a Pentagon employee, who informed the Deputy-Director there, who informed me so I could pass it onto you. This Washington bureaucracy has wasted twenty minutes of valuable time.” The Captain nodded gravely as he ended the call and hung up the phone. He turned to a man whom he had paged while still on the phone. “Listen, I need this place shut down. Get on the system and engage every lock.” The man nodded. “Yes sir!” The man started to leave, but the Captain called out, “I didn’t give you permission to leave yet, did I?”

“No Sir!” said the man after the reprimand. “I also want you to shut down the master clock satellite feed,” ordered the captain. “Sir?” questioned the man. “Electronics across the country use that feed, not to mention the ships and aircraft that rely on it.” The captain scowled. “I gave you an order, sergeant. Shut it down!” The sergeant left the room in a hurry and gave commands to those under his charge. “Engage all locks!” he shouted as he hurried into the electronics control room. “I need a complete shutdown right now!” He sat down at one of the terminals and hurriedly punched in a series of passwords. A new screen popped up and he clicked a button labeled “Disengage Master Clock Transmission.” Another password was required, which he supplied.

The captain, in his office, paged security. “I want the two men doing repair on the satellite transmission center in custody,” he said. “And I mean now!”

The Time Has Come Part 5
Thursday, October 31, 2002

The group comprised of former contestants and one outsider, John Avery Whittaker, made their way down the stairway and found themselves in a large room filled with rows of folding chairs, a podium at the other end. "What’s this?" asked Jason to no one in particular. "Where the chairman gave his motivational speeches?" Eugene suggested that the group search for any evidence tying the building and its occupants, be they current or former, to the Andromeda corporation, so most of the group spread out across the room looking around for anything that could make for evidence in a criminal case, while Mitch and Richard stood with Monica and Barry to assure that they did not attempt escape or take action against the others.

"You’ve got to understand," moaned Monica. "I’m on your side now. I left Andromeda. Ask Jason!" But Jason looked warily at her. "That’s what I thought, but now I’m not too sure. How’d you get released after just a few months anyways?" he asked. "Mitigating circumstances, suspended sentence," she replied. "The judge was lenient because I was doing it to help my brother," she said. "A little too lenient if you ask me. Conveniently lenient," commented Jason, turning away and focusing on his search of the room. A brief search by the group turned up nothing and they exited the room via the main door and found themselves in a well-lit hallway. "Well, on to the next room," said Jason as he held a door for the others to enter the first room off the hallway. "We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us."

*******

Security personnel raced through the hallways of the United States Naval Observatory, frightening a group of naïve tourists. "Well I never!" gasped an older woman, looking to her husband. "Do they do this all the time?" A man, wearing somewhat tattered clothing that did not appear to be recently pressed, grinned broadly. "Go get ‘em, boys," he said. Then, "Wonder what they’s up to." The tour guide tried to keep the small group together, keeping the interested onlookers from following the security team and reassuring the frightened. "Is there a bomb?" breathed one man quietly, panic in his face. "We’re going to die!" sobbed a woman. "What’s going on?" demanded another, speaking for the rest of the group. Many were paralyzed with fear.

"Don’t panic," soothed the tour guide. "It’s nothing they can’t handle."

Meanwhile, Charles Gordon and his partner Ivan had finished installation and were packing everything up when the sound of an alarm pierced the building. "Let’s get out of here," said Ivan. "Come on," said Charles admonishingly. "If they were on to us, you think they’d sound an alarm and warn us that they were coming?" He laughed. "No, we’re going out the main door to this place." A moment later, four security guards rushed into the room. A look of amazement spread across Charles Gordon’s face. "How?" he whispered, then, pulling at Ivan’s shirt, he managed, "Run!" The two raced across the small room, ignoring the lead guard’s command for them to halt. "Quick," hissed Charles as the guards drew their weapons.

He nearly pulled the slow-to-react Ivan out of the room with him, then the two dashed across the narrow hallway, searching for cover or a quick exit. "This way," whispered Ivan excitedly, motioning towards a service room that housed furnaces and other equipment. "No!" said Charles decidedly. "That’s the first place they’d look!" He instead elected to choose the most simplistic hiding spot under the assumption that the guards would search for them elsewhere. "Hurry!" said Charles as he heard the footsteps of the men not far behind. They had about a ten yard lead on their pursuers due to their hasty exit of the room, but they knew it would be difficult to turn this gap into a true advantage.

"First time we’re out a’ site, we’ve gotta duck in somewhere," wheezed Ivan. Charles Gordon nodded as the two turned the corner and raced down another hallway. The second door on the left was a conference room, unoccupied. The two slipped in and quietly eased the door shut behind them. "How could they have got wise?" he asked rhetorically. "It was so well planned!"

*******

"Look at this!" shouted Jack gleefully. He held an envelope up triumphantly. "You know what this is?" he asked the others. They looked puzzled. "It’s our tickets home!" said Jack. "They were just sitting here!" The room erupted in excitement as the contestants realized that they were no longer stranded. "Great find, Jack!" congratulated Jason. He looked at the others. "Anything else in here?" he asked. Since none of the others had turned up anything of interest, the group advanced towards the next room.

"Hey, there’s a light on," observed Richard. "Think someone’s in there?" Barry laughed scornfully. "That’s the general idea," he said. "Unless they’re just trying to rack up an electric bill the size of Uzbekistan’s gross national product." He chuckled. "Get it? Uzbekistan? GNP?" If the others "got it," they failed to let on, scowling at him. "I would doubt your estimate that the employment of this lighting would result in costs exceeding twenty-four billion dollars," said Eugene. "You know, you can really get on a guy’s nerves," said Barry.

"Well," said Jason, breaking up the argument, "should we go in or not?" He scanned the faces of the other contestants. Most nodded or responded in the affirmative, while Mary Hopkins and Margaret Faye expressed reservations. "It could be dangerous," said Mary, voicing her concerns. "What if someone’s in there and has a gun?" she questioned. "I’ve got a gun too, you know," said Richard. Mary stood aghast. "You mean you’d murder someone?" she demanded. "That’s not what I said," replied Richard. "I simply mean I’m capable of defending myself and the others here."

"Well, then, anyone who wants to stay out here, feel free to do so, but I’m going in," said Jason. "I will as well," said Eugene and Mitch, Connie, and Jack voiced their cautious, somewhat nervous and apprehensive assent. "Well, I’m not getting left out here," muttered Mayor Faye, joining the group. Mary stood firm. "You can’t make me go in there," she said stubbornly. "Suit yourself," said Jason, "but I’ll tell you this much. It’s a cowardly thing to do."

Whit looked more concerned than the rest. "Mary, I won’t ask you to come in. That’s your own decision, one that we all have to make individually, and I understand your concern. Do what you think is best." Mary looked at the others. "I am," she said. "And I’m not budging." Richard shrugged his shoulders. "Not like you were any help anyways," he said, glaring at her. "Let’s go in," he said, approaching the door and cracking it open to peer inside. He gasped and Mary shuddered. "It looks like someone’s being interrogated in here," he said, shocked. "Come on. Let’s see what’s going on." He waited until the group was behind him, and then swung in the door. Eugene caught his breath. "Katrina!" he shouted.

*******

"Bearing!" shouted the Captain of the USS Ronald Reagan. "Unknown, sir!" said a young sailor on deck. "Our navigational system has failed!" The Captain looked startled. "What?" he demanded. "Get that thing back up!" The man looked perplexed. "I’m trying sir, but I’ve got no lock on coordinates." Captain Nimz turned to his radio operator. "Contact neighboring vessels," he commanded. A few minutes later, a reply. "Sir, all ships reporting navigational failure."

"What was our last heading?" inquired the Captain. Blank stares. "Take a guess, lieutenant!" he shouted at an officer standing next to him. "Where are we?" The lieutenant cleared his throat. "We are seventy miles outside of North Korean territorial waters," he said. The Captain groaned. "Report the problem and get us out of here." The lieutenant nodded. "Bearing 135!" he shouted.

*******

"They didn’t get past here," declared the head of the security squad in the observatory. "Curtis, you stand guard in this hallway. The rest of you come with me. We’ll search every room in this place if we have to!"

Huddling inside a closet in a darkened room, Ivan shuddered. "They ain’t gonna pass us by," he said. "And this is the first place they’ll look. Charles was staring at a smattering of boxes stacked in the closet behind him. "Get these all stacked up," he said to his partner. "Get moving!" They stacked the boxes up into one column and steadied them carefully. "When that door swings open, slam against the whole column with your body," ordered Charles Gordon as he positioned himself next to the door.

Within ten minutes, the security team had entered the room wherein Charles and Ivan hid and had worked their way to the closet. Standing in front of the door to the closet, the head guard nodded and pulled open the door. "Now!" said Charles. Ivan slammed into the boxes, his weight toppling them over onto the guard, who fell back. Another man rushed in and when he got to the closet. Charles reached out and punched him. In the confusion, the two started to make their getaway.

"Stop!" shouted one, leveling his piece at Charles and Ivan. Charles Gordon sighed and lifted his hands into the air.

*******

A middle-aged man with a poorly groomed beard wearing clothing that appeared to be left over from the 1960s stared at the intruders. "Eugene!" shouted Katrina joyously. "Jack… Jason!" She looked over all those that had burst into the room. "I-I can’t believe it!" she said.

"Get out of the way," Richard ordered Katrina’s captor and interrogator. The man, seeing Richard pull back his coat to reveal a holster and pistol to go with it, quickly complied. "Hey, I didn’t do nothin’!" he declared. "Tell it to the cops," said Richard, keeping the man at bay as Eugene raced over to Katrina and begun untying the ropes that bound her to the chair. "Oh, Eugene, I thought I’d never see you again!" she said softly.

Emerging from the crowd was Whit. He smiled. "Good to see you, Katrina," he said. Many of the others concurred, and Richard again taking charge, said, "We need to get going if we’re going to catch our flight." Wooton then commented, "But Katrina doesn’t have a ticket!" Jack thought about it for a while, then took a ball cap that had been hanging on a peg on the wall and opened up his wallet. Placing two hundred dollars in the hat, he passed it on to Jason, who likewise emptied his billfold into it. After the cap had been passed around, Eugene counted the money contained therein. "Two thousand, eight hundred forty seven dollars," he said, holding back tears of joy and thanks.

*******

"This is your captain speaking. Please fasten your seatbelts and secure all bags under your seats or in the overhead compartments in preparation of our landing at Reagan International Airport in fifteen minutes. Weather in Washington D.C. is cool, with temperatures in the mid-50s. Thank you for flying with American Airlines."

Connie closed the book she was reading and placed it in her bag. "Well, we’re finally going home," she said, a smile on her face. And looking at Richard, she said, "And I may have wanted to go straight home, but this is one detour I don’t mind taking." Richard smiled broadly. "It’s great to be back in the United States again," said Jack. "I can’t wait to get back to Joanne. I wonder how she’s doing at the antique gallery," he pondered aloud. He smiled faintly, lost in his thoughts. "Yes, it’s been fun, but it’s great to be coming home," he said.

*******

The Secretary of the Navy read over a report on his desk detailing the removal of the unwanted "upgrade" to the United States Naval Observatory’s master clock satellite transmission system. He nodded as he read over the report. "Tillman," he said, calling in an aide, "Get the director at USNO on the line and give him the go-ahead to resume regular operation."

Aboard the U.S.S. Ronald Reagan and on ships and planes across the world, navigational systems began receiving signals again. "Adjust heading 162," commanded the Captain. "Let’s go finish those exercises." Twenty minutes later, a Tomcat screeched as it lifted off the carrier’s deck and soared upward into the sky, the blue hue of it’s afterburners penetrating the dark evening sky.

*******

"Good afternoon, and welcome to the White House. The First Lady and I are honored to welcome our recipients to the people's house. The Presidential Medal of Freedom is the highest civil honor our nation can bestow. We award it today to five outstanding individuals, men whose courage and bravery under an adverse situation served them and the United States of America.

"These five men, Richard Maxwell, Eugene Meltsner, Jack Allen and John and Jason Whittaker, were placed in a situation in which they could change the course of history and with courage and perseverance, they prevailed. While the details of their actions cannot be divulged, let it be known that Americans – and not Americans only, but men and woman across the world – owe a debt of gratitude to these men, who risked their lives to preserve freedom.

"I want to thank you all for coming to honor these remarkable men. The Presidential Medal of Freedom, established by President Kennedy in 1963, recognizes individuals who have made ‘an especially meritorious contribution to the security or national interests of the United States, or to world peace, or to cultural or other significant public or private endeavors.’ And I submit that today's Presidential Medal of Freedom recipients richly deserve their honor. May God bless our recipients, and may God bless America."

In Odyssey, Joanne Allen watched the televised ceremony with tears in her eyes. As the ceremony ended, a local announcer appeared on the screen, summing up the event. "That was the President of the United States awarding the Presidential Medal of Freedom to five men, all with roots in Odyssey, in an unscheduled ceremony a few moments ago. Government officials say that the exact nature of these men’s heroic acts may never be divulged to the public. And fifty years from now, their names will be forgotten, this ceremony forgotten. But perhaps, in echoing the words of Winston Churchill, we can say of these men that this was their finest hour. This is Carol Stevens reporting for Channel 10 in Odyssey."