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house. They could monitor any RF signal made by cordless phones, cellular phones, or hand held transceivers. They could listen to every outgoing and incoming telephone call via their line taps.
    Every one of Mariah’s achievements was analyzed, dissected, plotted on a graph, fed into a newly developed computer program to predict future developments, and discussed at great lengths by all those involved regarding her usability in the Central Intelligence Agency’s worldwide covert activities.
    There was a shroud of secrecy thrown over “Operation: Maximum Magician.” Only a select handful of people knew of it. Even the Director of the CIA was given general information and non-exact details. The less he knew, the better, both for him and the agency. Knowing her every move did not make Winters less tense. In fact, his stress level caused him to develop neck pains.
    She continued to refine and expand her talents. He was pleased, but he instinctively knew he was not getting the complete picture. It was what he imagined that made him goosey. Gabriel Winters never let himself forget she had physically manipulated that child molester in Canada. He also held personal reservations about her innocence in the death of Everett Hinckley in New Mexico.

Chapter 6
    Siddhartha placed the root, the solam tebrosm , he had developed in the hollow then covered it evenly with treated soil. Kneeling on the hard-packed ground, he was able to ignore the muted roar of the hot sharuq blowing steadily from the south, his body protected by his SRIG, a sapphire blue, skin-forming, Self-Regulating Insulated Garment.
    He had approached the Elvilivians, natives of this planet, with an offer to develop a food product that would grow in their inhospitable clime. Hardly more than fine sand and pebbles, the soil on Elvilive could not sustain its population, forcing the inhabitants to barter for necessities with industrial products of limited value. Siddhartha hoped his tedious laboratory experiments conducted on this hybrid would provide negotiating leverage.
    They were a hostile, paranoid race. Before their eyes, he had appeared in a nearly blinding flash of light from a hole in the endless black sky. They were sure it was a demon that hissed as the hole closed behind it.
    They knew not of hyperspatial transport points. They knew only that the demon hovered above the ground and, as the light receded, floated down.
    Five of the Elvilivians advanced and took a predatory stance, their three arms bending inward, their clubbed hands flexed. As they attacked, Siddhartha glided easily away. He was a diminutive man with deep golden skin, hair as black as the eternal night, and eyes of ebony which radiated peace and serenity. His stride was fluid, graceful, and bespoke of strength and agility.
    Before they could recover, he was behind them; how they wound up face down on the ground was still a mystery to the aggressors and those who witnessed the swift and precise maneuvers of the alien. Gaining their respect, he would come to be called Oolatorh —friend.
    The root was shielded from the incessantly swirling dust as long as he held it. But it was now planted and exposed to the variations and severities of this unreceptive environment. The final test must be conducted under conditions native to Elvilive: Siddhartha would kneel here until he was certain the tuber was firmly anchored.
    “Another root, if you please,” he said, distractedly.
    With a soft whirrrr , the LZ-Ssn that hovered exactly fourteen inches from Siddhartha rotated on its axis. Its central core with two glowing green illumines—its “eyes”—on coiled metal stalks remained stationary as receptacle number eight now faced him. The hatch opened silently and the tray slid out, dispensing, as requested, one solam tebrosm wrapped protectively in a soft silicone cloth. When Siddhartha removed it, the tray slid back and the hatch shut.
    “Please to dispense the soil now.” Siddhartha cradled the root