UNSETIC Files: The Measure of Dreams

Remain silent unless you are asked a direct question, Tim said as he shoved one of the doors open.

And choose your words carefully lest my master decide that your purpose among us does not require your tongue.

She couldn’t tell if the warning was scripted or heartfelt, since there was no emotion in his voice. It was as if he’d walled the real him away again, probably to protect them both.

At least I hope that’s what it is.

Kate took a deep breath and let him usher her down a marble tiled corridor until they came to a shockingly small chamber where a man in a robe of rust-red velvet. His gaze was sharp as he homed in on her, dark eyes narrowing as they raked over her, cutting as close as a razor’s blade.

Only one, Merlin, the man observed as he set down a goblet of pale gold liquid. I had expected two.

Tim paused, his voice hitching in confusion. Master?

Did I stutter, Merlin?

No, Master, Tim said, his voice tightening slightly. Forgive me, I did not realize that I hunting two, not one.

The robed man came forward, his hob-nailed boots ringing on the marble tile as his steps carried him to Kate. One long-fingered hand seized her face and he stared into her eyes. Fear welled up from deep in her belly, not feigned at all.

Oh god, what have I gotten myself into?

The Measure of Dreams

One of the UNSETIC Files

by

Erin M. Klitzke

Smashwords edition

© 2014 Erin M. Klitzke

Published by Taliesin Ambrose Books

This is a work of fiction, one that deals with themes of religion and the paranormal. All resemblance to actual individuals, living or dead, is coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or distributed to other people without providing compensation to the author. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and didn’t purchase it, or did not purchase it for your own personal use, please consider heading to your favorite ebook retailer and picking up your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

E-Book version 1.0 ~ if you notice any errors in the text or formatting, please e-mail the author at doc@embklitzke.com with the version number and what the error was so it can be corrected in later editions.

© 2014 Erin M. Klitzke

Published by Taliesin Ambrose Books

Troy, MI 48083

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without permission from the author except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

Cover design by Erin M. Klitzke. Stock art from Dreamstime.com. Components used with permission.

Dedication

For Jennie and the Dave formerly known as Moogle,

without whom Kate, Tim, and AJ would not exist as they are today.

Oath of the United Nations Supernatural

and Extraterrestrial Investigative Corps

I solemnly declare and promise to exercise all loyalty, discretion and conscience while carrying out the functions entrusted to me as an international agent of the United Nations Supernatural and Extraterrestrial Investigative Corps, to discharge my duties and regulate my conduct with the interest of the United Nations and my planet only in my view. I understand that at times, I will be called upon to defend myself with force but forswear the overuse of deadly force, to be used only when necessary to defend the lives and persons of innocents and my comrades at arms.

I do so swear to defend my world against all threats foreign and domestic as directed by my superiors within the Corps and the United Nations. I understand where this oath conflicts with any oath of service to military, security, or other organization that my loyalty to my conscience and my comrades should come first.

I will protect those who cannot protect themselves from threats seen and unseen to my dying breath. This is my solemn oath and vow.

Prologue

Chicago, December 2007

McConaway? Are you still here?

She yawned, looking up from the five books scattered across her desk. Her hand ached from gripping her pencil a little harder than she should have been, fingers stiff. What time is it? Alisa McConaway turned in her chair, stretching and trying to crack her neck. She glanced at her phone. Almost midnight. No wonder he’s surprised I’m still here. Back here, Graham. What do you need?

Graham Peterman ducked around the plywood and two-by-four shelving unit that divided her makeshift office from similar spaces that belonged to the department’s half-dozen other doctoral candidates. In his shadow was a well-groomed woman, bright-eyed and dressed in a charcoal gray suit. She carried a small, thin box in her hands, intricately carved of some dark, reddish wood and seemed far too awake and cheerful for the late hour.

You brought...company? Her nose wrinkled slightly as she stood up and extended her hand to the stranger. AJ McConaway.

The woman smiled and shook her hand, grip surprisingly firm. AJ could hear England in the woman’s voice, a refined, educated accent rather than the rougher tones of a working class upbringing. Bryn Knight-McCullough. A pleasure, Dr. McConaway.

Not doctor yet, AJ said with a faint, wry smile. I defend my dissertation in six weeks. After that, hopefully I’ll have the doctorate. How do you know Graham?

Graham gave a nervous little laugh. Our fathers went to university together, he said. Bryn looked me up when she came across the antique she’s got in the box there. When she showed it to me, I thought that it might be something you would be able to help us with.

Antique? AJ’s brow arched and she glanced at Bryn. "I hope Graham told you that I usually work with things a little older than what could be described as antique."

Bryn smiled. Actually, I was hoping you might be able to tell me what it says. She unlatched the small box, flipping the lid back to reveal a disk made of some kind of smooth black stone with edges bound in a centimeter-wide gold ring. Words spiraled out from the center of the disk, embossed in gold and gleaming in the dim light. AJ frowned slightly.

May I? she asked, gesturing to the disk.

By all means. Bryn handed her the box and watched as AJ carried it back to her desk, sinking down in her chair as she studied the relic.

This is so not an antique. It’s some kind of pidgin of Latin and Hebrew, I think, but I’ve never really seen anything like it, she said after a moment.

Can you read it? Bryn asked.

Graham laughed. She could read it in her sleep. AJ’s the only reason most of us made it through linguistics.

Blushing, AJ shook her head, letting her dark hair momentarily shadow her face. Graham exaggerates. I just have a knack. As for this, the letters are pretty jumbled, but I think I can make out the gist.

Really, Bryn said, sounding vaguely breathless. She took two steps to stand on the opposite side of AJ’s desk, peering down at the disk with the anthropologist. What does it say?

‘I am the key,’ AJ said quietly. ‘I open the pathways between.’ The rest is...gibberish. Nonsense syllables. Either that or words that didn’t survive the passage of time. She frowned, looking up at Bryn. Where did you get this?

Antiques dealer in the East End, Bryn said with a faint, wry smile. I thought it might make an interesting necklace, even if it’s a little big.

The piece was as wide as AJ’s palm. It’d make a damned big necklace. Heavy, too. Her finger brushed along the gold edge. Shivers shot up and down her arm, her hand going momentarily numb, as if she’d touched live circuit. She swallowed, fighting not to react, to keep her expression impassive. Carefully, she closed the box and slid it back toward Bryn, whose eyes sparkled with delight as she picked it up again.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help, AJ said.

Believe me, you were a great deal of help. Bryn held the box tightly in both hands. If I ever need more help with something like this...would you be available?

Until April, anyway, AJ said with a wry smile. After that, who knows. Depends on fellowships and possible post-doctoral work. Or fieldwork, or teaching positions, or working in the family business because I can’t find a job in academics or god knows what else.

Dr. Ford wants you with him on the Mesopotamia dig, Graham said. Everyone knows it.

He asked me, AJ said. I haven't said yes. She wasn’t sure she could bring herself to say yes.

I’d land in Baghdad a year to the day their planes vanished. I’m not sure I can handle that.

But it was a great research opportunity, one her fiancée and her brother would both want her to jump on, regardless of whether they’d been declared MIA and presumed dead or not, whether or not that cursed sandbox had cost her both of them.

You haven’t said no, either. Graham smiled. You’ll go. No one says no to Adam Ford.

He was right about that. Adam Ford was a decade their senior but his reputation and discoveries made him incredibly formidable--and no one who got the opportunity to work or travel with him ever said no.

But every time I heard a plane or saw something out there, I wouldn’t be able to help but hope it’s one of them somehow coming home again like nothing happened. Every time I saw a peacekeeper’s shadow, heard the tread of combat boots, I’d feel a spark of hope that’d die like embers on the wind. They’re gone and I will never see them again. Why can’t I accept that?

Do you have a card? Bryn was asking. AJ shook herself and nodded.

Yeah, here. She dug one out of a drawer and handed it over. Cell phone only, I’m afraid. Voicemail on the desk phone doesn’t ever work and the phone itself doesn’t even ring half the time. Email’s there, too, but phone’s probably better.

That’s fine, Bryn said with another warm smile. She tucked the card into her pocket. We’ll be in touch, Dr. McConaway.

I’m not yet, AJ said again.

Bryn laughed. You will be soon enough. Thank you.

You’re welcome, AJ said, sinking back down into her chair as she watched Bryn and Graham retreat around the shelves and out of sight. Her gaze drifted back to the books.

Defense in six weeks, McConaway. Better get cracking.

Heaving a heavy sigh, she scooped up her pencil and got back to work.

One

Rosemont, IL, May 2008

The chairs in the small side room at what used to be the Rosemont Horizon convention center were decidedly uncomfortable. AJ chewed her lip and drummed her pencil against the tabletop, trying to soothe her nerves--or perhaps deny them. The invitation to come had been cryptic but intriguing, but now that she’d gotten an eyeful of some of the men and women that had filed into this section of the building with her, she was starting to wonder exactly what they were being invited here for.

Just breathe. You’ll find out soon enough.

Fuck, McConaway, you’re here with a bunch of trained soldiers and cops. What the hell could that mean?

Nothing good, that’s for sure.

Dr. McConaway?

She froze in mid-tap. She knew the voice--the accent, really--though she’d only met the woman once. AJ stood stiffly, turning to peer at the speaker.

Once again, Bryn Knight wasn’t alone. With her stood a dark-haired, athletic-seeming man dressed in cargo pants and a dark green t-shirt, his hands clasped loosely behind him in a pose that was almost but not quite military in its bearing. His stance seemed odd, off, sending flutters of nerves and excitement through her belly.

Bryn smiled. "You are a doctor now, I presume?"

I--yes, AJ said, tucking the pencil over her ear and reaching to shake Bryn’s outstretched hand. Official last week. What’s this all about?

She seemed to ignore the question for the moment and gestured to the man at her side. Scott Andrews, this is Dr. Alisa McConaway. She’s the anthropologist I told you about.

Physical or social? Scott asked as he shook AJ’s hand.

Thoughts reeling, AJ forced a smile. A little of both. Archaeologist by most of my training, but I’ve got a knack for languages.

Scott blinked, then looked at Bryn. Is she the one that translated the inscription?

The other woman smiled broadly. Now you see why I insisted that she get an invitation to this little recruiting drive.

He swore softly under his breath and shook his head with a hint of a smile. His fingers tightened around AJ’s hand for a moment. Sorry. She didn’t tell me who you were. All I had was your file.

My file? What the hell kind of file is he talking about?

He coughed and looked slightly abashed, glancing toward Bryn before he met AJ’s curious gaze. Background check, CV, that kind of thing, but blind. No names, just credentials and qualifications. Stories. History.

I don’t like the sound of this. AJ released his hand and crossed her arms. Qualifications. Background. For what? What are you recruiting for?

A project, Bryn said quietly. Something we think you’re uniquely suited for.

Right, AJ said, chewing the inside of her lip. I’m not up for this cloak and dagger bullshit. She turned away and grabbed her messenger bag. Look, I don’t know what you’re up to, but it really doesn’t sound like something I’m interested in. Thank you for thinking of me, but I think I’m just going to go. She slung the strap over her shoulder and headed for the door, trying to avoid eye contract with the pair as she went.

If you walk out that door, Doctor, you’ll never find out what happened to your brother or your fiancée.

AJ froze, hand on the doorknob, her blood turning to ice and her spine stiffening. She turned slowly and met Bryn’s calculating gaze. "What does this have to do with them? What the hell do you know?"

Bryn, Scott said, tone warning. If she doesn’t want to be a part of this, you shouldn’t press. You shouldn’t say too much. Just let her make her choice even if it’s to walk out that door.

All the cards should be on the table, Mr. Andrews, before I let her just walk away. Bryn’s gaze never wavered as she moved toward AJ. They disappeared last summer. Traces of one plane were found, but there was no trace of second plane and no sign of what happened to either pilot.

They searched for six weeks, AJ said, throat tightening. Then the Department of Defense called off the search. I got two pairs of uniforms showing up at my door to tell me that they’re missing and probably dead in service to their country and that they’re so, so sorry for my loss. They were all I had. It wasn’t quite true--she still had her uncles, Christopher and Peter--but it wasn’t the same as having Tim and Mat. She loved her uncles, but no matter how hard she tried she still couldn’t bring herself to think of a life without her brother or the boy she loved, the boy she’d grown up knowing, just knowing she’d marry someday. They were the only constant things in my life and they’re gone and they’re not coming back. Don’t be using them to try to con me into something because all that’s going to do is piss me off.

Bryn shook her head, her expression pained and gaze sympathetic, as if she somehow fathomed the depth of her loss. They didn’t find any trace of them because if Scott and his wife are right--and I whole-heartedly believe they are--something stole them and took them to another world.

This is insane. Another world, AJ repeated, expression deadpan though her stomach twisted, acid bubbling up in the back of her throat. Aliens took Mat and Tim.

Something like that, Scott said, his voice wooden and his expression bleak.

You two are crazy, AJ said, turning to leave. I’m crazy for coming. I need to call Dr. Ford and tell him I’m coming to Iraq. I need to move on. That’s how I’m going to do it. I’m going to Iraq and I’ll work on that dig and I’ll move on with my life.

"There are pathways between worlds, Dr. McConaway. Something came through a gateway after traveling along one of them and swallowed those two men. I know it because we stopped them from doing the same thing to Bryn and to you. You’ve got a choice in this. She heard Scott swallow as he paused. You don’t have to join us, but something tells me it’ll be easier to protect you if you do than if you walk away."

Protect me, AJ said, half twisting around to look at him. What kind of insanity did I just fall into? Protect me from what? Fucking aliens coming to take me away?

I wish I had a better explanation, Scott said quietly. There was real pain in his eyes as he watched her fingers tighten around the doorknob. Bryn had to talk me into bringing you here today. Even on paper, I didn’t think you’d believe, given what you do for a living. You uncover and imagine a past based on solid evidence that it took place. This is...this would be hard for anyone, but harder still for someone who relies on logic coupled to imagination rather than just imagination alone.

She sucked in a breath, gaze bouncing between the two of them. Focus, McConaway. Why would they weave some kind of cockamamie story like this? What the hell are they trying to suck you into with that bullshit? If they’ve actually read some kind of government file on you, with or without names, then they know that you’re not the type to believe in UFOs and shit like that. ETs aren’t on your radar--ancient or otherwise. So why spin a story like that?

Why spin a story like that unless it’s somehow true? Her stare finally settled on Bryn.

That disk you brought that night, when you came in with Graham, AJ said. Where did you really get it?

Bryn took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. A bazaar on a planet called Beryl. I could read the Latin, but the Hebrew was beyond me. That’s assuming we’re correct in what the languages actually are.

I am the key, AJ whispered, remembering the tingling and the numbness that had enveloped her arm that night, though only briefly, after she’d touched the gold rim of the trinket. I open the way.

God help me.

Her hand fell away from the door and she turned fully back to the pair. All right, she said. "If aliens or whatever actually came across some kind of pathway and through some kind of door to Earth, I want to know how they did it. Prove it to me and you’ve got me for the long haul--whatever it takes to get them back. I’m in, but