And the more he thought about it, the more dissatisfied he became with his current assignment.  The message he'd received from Chris Faber in Vancouver had certainly been enough to pique his interest and curiosity -- a new toxin to use against the lizards?  Who wouldn't be interested?  -- but it also started his sixth sense nagging him, the one that warned of danger.  He shook off the feeling with irritation.  He'd known Chris long enough to trust his judgement.

He trudged on into Canada, his boots crunching heavily in the hard-packed snow.  He was leaving tracks, he knew, but that couldn't be helped.  The next good storm would fix that, and checking the sky, it looked like there was one not too far away.  Tyler shifted the heavy pack he carried into a more comfortable position and scanned the horizon.  With winter coming on, the landscape was harsh and forbidding.  Most of the trees had lost their leaves and the ground was turning harder each day.   It would not be nice, Tyler the pragmatist observed, to get caught in a blizzard right now.  He doubled his pace, following a very haphazard trail northwards.
 
 

It had taken her several years just to gain some amount of trust and respect from the local farmers, who were at their conservative, chauvinistic best when faced with an attractive and quite diminutive woman calling herself a 'veterinary surgeon', and waving the papers to prove it.  Still, she had persevered and succeeded where many had failed before her.  Only now was she beginning to feel comfortable in her job, having developed a real rapport with most of the animals she attended, and even some of the farmers.  Alex had what was know as a 'gift' with animals, which did not usually extend to the human branch of the species.

At the moment, she hurried around her old cottage, searching in vain for her stethoscope.  She paused by the roaring log fire, where 2 very imposing German Shepherds lay stretched out, the black and tan watching her with placid interest, the other, smaller black and gold fast asleep.  They were magnificent specimens -- purebred, which was hard to come across in a land of mongrel, cross-bred working dogs.  Pushing her large rectangular glasses up her nose, she wagged a finger at the black and tan.

"Solomon!  If you've eaten my stethoscope, I'll... I'll... have to buy another one.  And it'll cost me a fortune.  Or was it you, Homer?  you seem to have developed quite a taste for things rubber and expensive lately -- don't think I've forgotten about that pair of gumboots.  Hmm?  I want the truth now..."  Solomon regarded her steadily, tongue lolling out of his grinning mouth.  Homer stretched, yawned and went back to sleep.  She gave up on them and started hunting again.  "I'm going to be late!  Mr. Harper will throw a fit.  You know how he likes punctuality.  And -- oh.  Found it.  I apologize, boys."

She was still gathering her things when there was a knock at the door.  Both dogs leaped up, barking, but at a work from the vet, sat one on each side of her by the door, growling deep in their throats.

Alex opened the door wide, as was her custom, and gave the man standing there a thorough appraisal in one practised glance.

"I need a place to stay.  Just for the night."

Ham Tyler was a dismal sight.  His clothes and pack were muddy and ice-encrusted and Ham himself looked exhausted as he leaned against the doorway, breathing heavily.

The mercenary was quite aware that he was under inspection by a keen and professional eye, and couldn't help feeling that he was on display at some kind of meat sale.  He half expected the woman to reach out and prod him in the ribs or inspect his teeth, however, the vet merely peered out into the snowstorm and back at Tyler.

"You've been hiking in THIS?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm on my way out.  Wait there."  She left the dogs to guard the door and returned with 2 large towels and a blanket.  Tyler had bent down and was making friends with Solomon, who didn't seem to object to his advances.  Alex nodded approvingly.  "I see you've met Solomon.  Here.  You can dry off and stay in the barn until I get back.  Try not to die of anything.  I'm a vet, not a doctor."

"Your fire..."

Alex shook her head.  "I can't afford to be too much of a good samaritan, mister.  You could take me for everything I own while I'm gone, and there's some valuable equipment in here.  Sorry."

"I get your drift."  He took the towels and blanket. "Thanks."

It occurred to Alex while she was pulling away from the house that she hadn't even bothered to get the man's name.  He didn't look a threat, obviously wet and tired as he was, and the dogs hadn't bristled and barked endlessly, like they did with someone they really disliked.  You just couldn't be too careful these days.
 
 

In a nightmare, one that had been coming more and more frequently since the experience with the conversion chamber, Ham struggled to his feet, his uniform covered with mud, and threw himself at the next hurdle.  This was the SAS, and excuses were not tolerated.

"I said, move it Tyler.  You're coming in last and you know what that means..."

Ham did indeed.  He doubled his efforts, but it was no use.  He was the least fit of the group, he knew, and he'd pay for that.  As he struggled over the rope ladder he wondered why he was doing it, and briefly saw the faces of a woman and her daughter in front of him.  But his wife and child were dead in Vietnam.  It had been a year, and it might as well have been yesterday.  Black anger, something Tyler was becoming very familiar with, welled up inside him...  and suddenly he was in the thick of the group, pushing others aside.  His body was close to exhaustion but Tyler not only finished the trial, but finished the course -- first in his group.  It wasn't much consolation, but it helped.

"That's 50 for forgetting your rifle, Tyler!  Do it now!"

In complete misery, Ham forced himself to do the 50 push ups...
 
 

Alex trekked out to the barn, the only other place they could be on a night like this.  She opened the big doors, smelling the warm, musty smell of hay.  It was dark inside of course, and even with the hurricane lantern it was difficult to see.

Very softly, Solomon whined to her.

"Hey, boy, where have you --"  The lantern spread its light over the body of the sleeping stranger, and with him her 2 dogs.  She knelt down, smiling, and scratched behind their ears.  "Well, if you boys like him, I guess he can't be too much of a risk," she murmured.  "But I'll be very disappointed in you if you're wrong."

She moved over to Tyler who, despite the intense cold of the barn, was sweating profusely in the grip of his own personal nightmare.  He was an attractive man, Alex decided.  She liked the smooth contours of his face and the sensitive lips.  Although, the more cynical survivor in her noted, anyone can look harmless enough when they're asleep, and she had got the impression of a cold and remote man on their first meeting.  Alex touched his arm and Tyler jerked awake with a gasp.  "Sorry," the vet apologized.  "Are you all right?  You don't look well."

"A dream.  That's all."  The colour was rising in Ham's cheeks, and Alex suddenly realized that the man was embarrassed by her presence.  She got to her feet calling the 2 dogs to her with a short command.

"Well, I'll be in the house fixing myself something to eat.  If you'd like to join me, you're welcome."  She smiled.  "Anyone these 2 would leave a warm fire for can't be all bad."

"Thank you -- I think.  They're good animals, well trained."

"I'll leave you the lantern."

Alex walked the 200 metres back to the cottage in silent contemplation, Homer and Solomon racing ahead of her.  In the house, the dogs discovered to their dismay that their places by the fire had been usurped by at least 5 cats.  Alex laughed at the looks on their faces and left them to deal with the situation.  Animals were always wandering in and out of her place, thanks to a largish dog-door in the main entrance.  She didn't mind in the least, but never claimed to own any other than Solomon and Homer.  The two shepherds, who were gentle by nature, had had early introduction to the local wildlife and the half-wild cats had long since gotten the measure of those two.  They now took possession of the place whenever they felt like it.

In the kitchen, Alex studied the refrigerator carefully: a dozen eggs, some dried-up bacon, what she guessed might be the remains of her last attempt at soup and something at the very back of the fridge that she couldn't even recognize (she ignored it).  No sign of anything remotely pre-packaged.  The freezer section held the same story.  Nope, there was nothing for it but to actually make something herself.  She grimaced and reached for the eggs, already mentally apologizing to the stranger.  At his knock, she pushed the fridge door shut with his foot.

"Hi, come on in," she yelled, oblivious to the din that was set off by his entry.

Tyler had wrapped the large blanket around himself, his clothes having stiffened to a board when he took them off.  He entered the house, wondering if he'd ever be warm again.  Homer and Solomon met him in the entrance with a boisterous welcome and led the way to the fire.  Still wiping the licks from his face, he crouched down in amongst the cats, gently shoo-ing them elsewhere to make room for the dogs.  Gratefully, the two took up their usual places.

"I think you've won a few hears there," Alex observed, coming into the lounge.  Ham smiled faintly.  "Here, I've brought you some clothes while yours dry out.  They were my husband's, until I kicked him out.  Don't know what he thought I was going to do with them, but I knew they'd come in handy some day."

"Thanks."

Alex returned to the kitchen to give him some privacy.  Not exactly a man of many words, she thought, as she proceeded to crack eggs.

Ham felt a lot more at ease with some clothes on at last.  The large polar-necked jumper kept the warm of the fire in excellently; the trousers were a little baggy, and the shirt a little tight around his shoulders, but all in all it was not a bad fit.  As he shrugged into the jumper, he tried visualizing what the luckless husband had looked like.  It wasn't a pretty picture.  After several minutes in front of the log fire, Tyler was feeling thawed-out enough to seek out his hostess.  He appeared in the kitchen in time to see the woman attempting to feed what looked like burnt omelette to some of the cats he'd shooed away from the fire.  They weren't having any of it.

"Oh," she said, looking up.  "Hi."

Tyler nodded.  "What was that?"

She got to her feet, regarding the mess on the floor with resignation.

"Dinner," she admitted wryly.

Staring at her latest effort for a few seconds, Alex wiped her hand on a pair of faded jeans and offered it to Tyler.

"I'm Alex Bailey, anyhow.  I'm the vet around these parts.  And I usually get frozen foods."

They shook hands, Ham smiling.

"Ham Tyler.  Listen, I'd like to thank you for your hospitality.  Perhaps I can make something?  I'm pretty good at improvisation."

"Bachelor life, huh?"

"Something like that."

"Well, you've got a challenge on your hands here, but help yourself.  I've got heaps of paperwork to do, so I'll be in the surgery.  Make yourself at home.  And thanks."

"No problem."

Ham applied himself to the task at hand with his usual thoroughness.   He quite enjoyed cooking, which was lucky considering how many stints on KP he'd suffered in one army or another, and although he was no cordon bleu chef he could do better than burn an omelette.

After 15 minutes, Alex was eventually drawn into the kitchen again by her nose.

"Damn!  That smells terrific!  What've you got there?"

"Secret recipe.  Passed down from a long line of chefs."

Which was true in a sense, although he'd never dreamed of calling the mess sergeant a 'chef'.  Alex pulled up a stool and stuck chin in hands.

"Great.  When do we eat?  I'm starved."

"Soon."

A wet nose in the small of her back reminded her that several members of the household hadn't been fed either.  She excused herself and trailed out to feed the dogs while Tyler laid food on the table.  On the verandah, he could hear her constant chatter and shook his head.  Of all the people to come across in a blizzard, it had to be a woman with a 5-speed mouth.  The only thing he'd found refreshing so far was a total lack of pretentiousness; and the cheerfulness was not unpleasant.  He wondered just how sheltered people of the colder climates were from a war he'd been fighting only a few days ago.  It seemed unreal that places like this could exist in such relative peace, untouched by the fighting that was going on all over the world.

One on the great benefits, as Tyler soon discovered, was the REAL coffee.  After the meal -- an ingenious combination of eggs, celery and onion and a packet of noodles -- Alex suggested they warm up by the fire until the percolator was ready.  The dogs had reclaimed the space in front of the log fire, and Ham absently let his hand drop to Solomon's huge head.   The dog twisted his head around to be scratched behind the ears.

"He likes you," the vet observed, pushing a hand through her thick, closely-cropped brown hair.  Tyler raised an eyebrow, which the vet was rapidly coming to associate with a normal comment, like 'oh really?  Why do you say that?'.

"They are usually a bit stand-offish until they get to know someone," she explained.  "I've never seen them 'take' to a person they way they have with you."

Tyler grunted noncommittally.

"Must be a knack," she continued.  "Some people have it, most don't.  It means the animals trust you."

He looked up sharply at that.

"Did I say something wrong?"

"No."  Tyler lay back in his chair.  "I'm just tired."

Alex noted the hint to mind her own business, but ignored it.

"So.  What do you do when you're not getting caught in snowstorms?"

"Why?"

Alex shrugged.  "Just nosey, I guess."  She tucked her head to one side and regarded him again with that critical stare.  "But you're not from around here, and I can't figure you for any ordinary stuff...  you know, accountant, bank clerk, public servant, computer genius, neurologist..."

Her grin was contagious.  Tyler caught himself smiling again and forced a frown.  He cleared his throat, but she was obviously not deterred.  If he wasn't careful, this woman would be getting his entire life story out of him.

"Librarian?" she prompted.  "Sales rep?"

"I'm a hairdresser," he said at length, and the flatness in his voice and the gravity of his eyes challenged her to disagree with him, or even make a comment.

"OK, I can take a hint," she grinned.

The vet reclined back into her chair, still keeping him under observation.  She had not taken her reading glasses off, which made her appear like an owl in human form.  It was not as if it mattered, she told herself, wondering for the second time that night why she should take any interest in this taciturn and quite unsavoury individual at all.  It was unlike her, she who never even bothered to find out the names of most of her client's children.  She couldn't decide what it was, but there was certainly something unusual about any man who could have her own dogs practically at his beck and call in a few hours.  Perhaps it was the depth in Tyler's brown eyes that promised an interesting story, or more likely it was just that she disliked not knowing where she stood with a person.

Shaking her head, Alex curled up tighter in the large, leather chair, and decided that it was none of her business.
 
 

He packed his gear quickly and efficiently, wondering why he felt the need to be out of the place as soon as possible.  The events of the previous night were still fresh in his mind, and as he went over it again it occurred to him that he'd said a lot more than he'd intended.  It disturbed him just slightly that anybody could cause him to be so voluble.  He quickened his pace, only to be interrupted by Alex as she popped her head around the corner.

"Listen, I'm making breakfast for myself -- you're welcome to join me."  She laughed at his expression and added, "Don't worry, it's cereal in this house.  Hairdressers DO eat cereal, don't they?"  She did not quite manage to hide a smirk, and disappeared with a chuckle before Tyler had a chance to respond.

He finished stowing his gear and hefted the pack onto the floor in the hallway.  As he entered the kitchen, the young vet looked up from pouring her own cereal.  She raised her eyebrows at the sight of his black leather jacket.  She made no comment, but the look on her face clearly conveyed what she thought of his dress sense.

Tyler glanced down at his attire and saw nothing wrong.  In fact, it was the most practical clothes he could imagine for hiking, and besides, he LIKED the leather jacket.

"Something wrong?"

"You look like a terrorist," she grinned, the sentence blurting out before she could stop it, then looked mortified.  "Oh, sorry."

Tyler was privately both amused and concerned about her all-too-accurate summation -- amused by her reaction to her imagined rudeness, and worried by the fact he could so easily be picked for what he was.

"Look," Alex was saying, "Sit down.  You'll need something to keep you going if you're hiking around here."  She pushed a box of muesli his way and waved to the seat opposite her.

Tyler sat obediently and began making inroads on an enormous bowl of the cereal.  They continued the meal in silence, Alex toying with her own breakfast halfheartedly before finally dropping her spoon into the bowl.

"Well are you or aren't you?" she demanded.

"What?"

"A terrorist, damnit!"  She scowled at Tyler's carefully blank stare.  "My curiosity's killing me."

"No, I'm not a terrorist," he answered truthfully, for by his own code he believed in no religious or political causes.  He only believed in Ham Tyler.

"Well, you're not a bloody hairdresser."

Tyler only stood up, zipping up his jacket.

"Thanks for breakfast.  And the couch."

He opened the front door, shouldering the pack and stepped out onto the verandah.  Alex stopped at the door.

"Okay."  She grinned wryly.  "Can't blame me for trying.  Don't get lost in any more snowstorms."

"Listen..."

"Get lost before I decide to search your bags."

Tyler nodded and stepped off the verandah.  It was still snowing lightly, and he was soon swallowed up by the mist.  Homer and Solomon came padding back inside from escort duty and stood mutely beside her.  "I know, boys, but we're going to see Mr. Harper's cow again today.  You love chasing his chickens, remember?  C'mon, I've got work to do.  Any more of these darn snowstorms and I'm gonna have to charge rent."  Carrying on her usual monologue with the dogs she finished clearing the table.  "Damn!  But he could cook," she muttered.  "I wonder how some people do it?"

An hour later she was ready to do her rounds and whistled up the dogs.  No response.  Digging the dog whistle out of her coveralls, she blew long and hard.  She was just starting to get worried when Homer belted through the underbrush towards her.  He seemed almost frantic, a foam on his mouth indicating he'd been going flat out for some time.  Now Alex was totally confused.

"Well, where's Solomon?  Where's your brother?  Huh?"  Homer pawed at the snow, whining.  Carefully, Alex went over her dog, but couldn't find a scratch.  And Homer, who usually adored being fussed over, wriggled out of her grasp and looked up at her, whining.  Alex took the hint.  "Okay, okay, I'm coming."  Suddenly, Solomon burst out of the same place Homer had and pelted across the hard-packed snow.  He stopped at her feet, his head drooping.  Alex bent down and lifted his head.  He had several cuts around his face and was wet all over from the snow, but her eyes went immediately to his jaw:  it was green with Visitor blood.

Now she understood.  Whirling, she raced inside to the surgery and grabbed up her 2 tranquillizer guns -- a rifle and a revolver.  She had to hunt through the dispensary, but she eventually found the drugs she was looking for.  She mixed exact quantities of each and filled empty darts with the pale blue fluid.  When she had 20 she gathered them up with the rifles and hurried out of the house.

Solomon and Homer were eager to get back to wherever they'd come from and raced ahead of the vet.  She seemed to crash through bushes for ages before she heard voices, voices that reverberated, Visitor voices.

"He must be somewhere," one said.  "You!  And you.  Take a look over there."  Alex held her breath, and hissed at the dogs to heel.  Not for the first time, she thanked God she'd taken time to train them as puppies.  She slung the rifle off her shoulder and held it in readiness, but she still couldn't see anything in the thick fog.  She didn't know how they had arrived, or why, but as Alex crept forward, circling around the voices, decreasing her range gradually, she decided on a look-see only.  There could be hundreds of them, for all she knew -- an invasion force, even.  When she finally spotted the familiar red uniform emerging from the fog, Homer began to growl.  Alex grabbed his muzzle, but the trooper had already picked it up.

"Hey, I think those dogs are back, Lieutenant.  I heard one."

Another uniform looked up, and Alex saw that both had Visitor gas masks on.  That at least explained why they weren't choking on the Red Dust.  "If you see them, shoot on sight," the officer ordered.

"Yes, sir!  What about Tyler, sir?"

"He can't get far.  If those dogs interfere again, shoot to kill, but make sure you don't lose Tyler.  But I want him taken alive in the best condition possible.  Diana will want to question him herself."

"Yes, sir."

"Round up your men and we will sweep the area again.  This time widen the radius."

The soldier saluted and began shouting orders.  From the replies, Alex estimated the force to be no more than about 10.  Grimly, she fingered the darts.  She was just about to pick off the Lieutenant when a commotion erupted a few meters away.  Shots were fired -- both laser and conventional, and Alex strained to see what was going on.  Finally, 3 troopers emerged into her field of view.

"Damn!" she hissed.  Tyler hung between two Visitors, a burnt and smoking hole in his upper right chest.

"Fool!  I said I wanted him undamaged."

One trooper licked his lips nervously.  "I'm sorry, sir.  He ambushed us -- 6 men are dead.  With respect, sir..."

"Get him on the shuttle," the officer ordered, disgust clear in his voice.

Alex chose then to step out of the mist, right behind the officer.  Before anyone could react, she levelled the rifled and fired at one trooper from the hip.  He gave a strangled cry and dropped like a stone.  The officer swung round but Alex jammed the revolver against his neck.

"Not if you want to live.  Let Tyler go.  Homer, Solomon -- koi!"

The shepherds bounded out of the mist and faced the 2 remaining Visitors, an intimidating sight with teeth bared and a low growl coming from each.  The aliens swallowed and let go of Tyler, who tried to stand but slid inelegantly to the ground.

"Homer, Solomon -- motteh!" Alex ordered, "Good boys... okay, bring him here -- kitteh!"

Each took a shoulder of Ham's leather jacket and pulled him across to Alex and out of the line of fire.  Alex had been worrying about how to solve the problem of getting Tyler out of danger, almost forgetting that her two dogs made wonderful retrievers of wounded animals, trained to it since they were puppies.  A few key words triggered their actions to find the quarry, then to retrieve it as gently as possible.  It was a technique that had proven itself in the harsh countryside of Okanagan Falls, although she sometimes found herself patching up teeth marks as well as the original wound on the animal in question.

The vet steeled herself for what she knew she had to do next.  Tyler was barely conscious, but watched from the ground with intense approval as Alex shot both soldiers, one by one.

"You said..."

"I said, if YOU want to live.  Tell me why you're here."

The officer spluttered and denied any knowledge, so Alex stepped back and in front of him, aiming as she did so.

"No!  Wait, I'll tell you."

"I'm listening."

"Diana sent us.  We're to find out about a toxin.  It's said to be deadly to us."

"Why are you looking for it here?"

"Intelligence reported that a farmer in this area had discovered it.  We were to go from place to place, finding out what we could."

"That's a suicide mission."  She raised the rifle a fraction.  "Tell me the truth."

"It IS the truth, I swear it!  Diana implanted small subcutaneous grenades in our bodies.  If we don't get the toxin and return in 24 hours, it explodes."

"It does sound like her style," Alex admitted drily.  The Visitor's eyes focused on the gun in Alex's hand.

"That's not a normal gun... that's..."  His eyes widened.  "The toxin!"

He lunged forward.  Alex pulled the trigger and watched dispassionately as the Lieutenant dropped to the snow.

She turned and bent down to examine Tyler, the chiselled features softening to her usual good-natured grin.  "Just can't keep away from me, can you?"

Tyler, who had been struggling to keep a hold of consciousness, couldn't find the strength to reply.  As he sank into darkness he was only faintly aware of several wet tongues licking his face.
 

Forward to Part Two

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