Had any recordings of the event been kept, any interviews been conducted, or any witnesses been believed, this advent would have been the catalyst of decades long news stories, generations of conspiracy theorists, and an unending wave of existential paranoia. Instead, not a word was written down or any footage saved, all it seemed to spawn was a batch of alcoholics who never stopped looking over their shoulder and never slept the same. This day, despite its seemingly vital junction, would not even be a spark in the memory of human history. It was like nothing had happened at all.

Gathered outside the huge NASA building were a few dozen soldiers of the National Guard, their commanders, and almost every member of Mission Control. They all stood in sweltering summer heat arguing over protocol and rankings against a backdrop of a humid Florida swamp. The day burning hotter as the minutes went by. A layer of haze continuously rose up from the black top as it baked in the sun. The heat fueled temperaments and frustration of men as it made their bodily crevices foggy with moisture. Shirts darkened on armpits, sweat dripped off ticklish noses, and at any moment it felt like their shoes would melt onto the open air oven of a landing strip. A few hundred yards away from the cluster sat a shuttle with an impossible astronaut and more questions than any one person could answer. Childish men argued as the Sword of Damocles began to hang closer and closer.

Cutting through the tension, Thompson made his way to the outskirts of the group. He walked over to Clarke who was engaged in a vicious shouting match against three other soldiers.

"I told you we don't need you here! Everything's under-" Clarke saw the Thompson approaching. "Thompson!" He walked briskly over to the Colonel, his brow grew tense at the middle. "Can you get them," He pointed furiously at the soldiers. "out of here please?! I tried telling them we don't need them here but because they were called under an emergency, they won't leave unless you tell them to." Clarkes face grew red as he spoke.

Thompson held up his hand to Clarke to get him to clam down. "I'll take care of them. While I do, go and try and corral everyone else." Thompson gestured out to the antsy crowd. "We don't need someone to start something they can't finish. Tensions are high enough as it is in this damn heat."

Clarke looked suspiciously at the Colonel. "What are you gonna tell them?"

"I'll tell them what they need to know." Thompson pushed up his sweaty glasses and walked over to take Clarke's place. Clarke, meanwhile, began wildly gesturing and shouting to get everyone in some semblance of order.

Thompson approached four men, one noticeably older than the rest. A dark skinned man with thick, coiled salt and peppered hair cropped short to the scalp walked to meet the Colonel.

"Are you in charge of this operation?" The man asked, his strong voice powered through heavy breath, sweat dripped down his temples.

"Yes sir I am, Colonel Thompson, Mission Director at NASA." Thompson stuck out his hand towards the Commander, who shook his hand in return. The general was a whiskey barrel of a man, in that he stood a head shorter than most, but was broad chested, and had the faintest scent of liquor hanging around him.

"General Tippen. We got an emergency alert. What seems to be the problem?" He loosened his tight grip on the Colonels hand.

"Well General. After a brief but thorough investigation, we have a reasonable suspicion that there is a possible invader on board the Apollo-22 shuttle." Thompson looked past the General and focused on the lone aircraft just a few hundred yards away.

Tippen followed Thompsons gaze over his shoulder and looked at the off center shuttle before looking back to Thompson. "A reasonable suspicion?" The General asked. "What led you to this?"

"During the landing procedures, I was on comms with the shuttles commander. An emergency landing had to be performed but we managed to get it safely on the ground. During the post landing debriefing, I noticed something. While everyone was celebrating the landing, I and my Comms officer went over the audio recordings and noticed that there were four voices present on the aircraft. This was a three person mission." The Colonel said.

"Are you sure?" Replied the General.

"Very, camera footage confirms a fourth astronaut present on the 22. Someone or something is on there that we didn't send up."

The General paced back and forth slightly, with his hands on his hips. He turned back to Thompson. "Do you still have this footage?"

"Yes General."

"And the audio?"

"Yes General."

"Good, we'll need it." Tippen called over to a few soldiers. "You two, with me." He looked to Thompson. "Colonel I'm gonna need your help on this. Follow me." Quickly, the General began to make his way over to one of the vehicles they arrived in.

Thompson began walking pace with Tippen. "Where are we going?"

"We're heading to the shuttle. Get in." The General hopped into the back of a large doorless jeep. The two soldiers Tippen brought along took the driver and passenger side. Thompson climbed into the seat next to the General as the engine turned over.

Clarke raced over to follow, his tie flailing in the wind. "Wait! Thompson where you going?" He shouted over the engines roar.

Fastening his seatbelt, Thompson shouted back. "We're going to the shuttle."

"Why?!"

"I don't know. You're in charge until we get back. Keep things under control you understand?" His voice trailed off as the jeep sped away down the blacktop. Thompson watched as Clarke threw his hands up in disbelief as he turned around towards the crowd. All their eyes watching as they drove further away. Thompson faced forward to see the great white shuttle grow closer and closer. A sense of dread fell over the Colonel. He felt as if he were being dragged into the maw of a hungry beast. There the Apollo-22 sat under the hot Florida sun, a spotlight shining down on a pale speck set against black tarmac. An image, when viewed from above, resembled the very stars humanity watched in hopes of discovery. Now they only needed to look at the blacktop to see the results of the stars looking back.

In a few moments they had arrived at the Apollo-22, faint trails of smoke still drifted off the edges of the wings. Staring forward, Tippen said to Thompson. "I'm gonna need you to talk to the astronauts. Keep them calm, talk as if it's just a series of set backs, no matter what keep them in the shuttle, do not under any circumstances let them out. Got that?"

Thompson looked back and forth between the General and the shuttle. "Yes but... what for? If you don't mind me asking; Why did we come here General?"

Tippen rubbed his freshly shaven chin, his fingers lingering on a patch of long stubble he missed, and thought of an explanation. "You know these men well Colonel. Figured if there was someone that didn't belong, you'd notice." This was a lie.

Thompson only half believed the General. He went along with it anyway, for he had too strong a curiosity of what strange visitor was behind the door.

The Colonel slid off his seat out of the car and approached the shuttle. His tie felt constricting around his throat, his collar chafed his skin a bright red. Beads of sweat trickled down his bald head, from the heat or from fear, he couldn't tell. A small flight of boarding stairs led up to the portside hatch of the Apollo-22, and just behind it inside the space craft, awaited four astronauts patiently waiting for the orders to leave. The Colonel reached the stairs and began a slow but steady ascension. He looked over his shoulder to the jeep and saw Tippen leaning over past the front seats watching, waiting. The General sat hunched over gripping the seats in front of him, jaw clenched tight and eyes unblinking, it was as if a vulture took human flesh.

As Thompson reached the top of the stairs, he cautiously stretched his arm towards the door, and knocked. He cleared his throat and called to who was inside. "This is Colonel Thompson, I need to speak with you immediately!"

Heavy footsteps made their way from the front of the craft to the door. A red haired man with dark brass eyes looked through from the other side. "Colonel? What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in the Control room?"

Thompson immediately recognized the man as Commander Wilkes. "Yes but this is important. Are the others nearby?"

"Yes sir but, I don't understand what's going on. Is everything okay?"

Thompson remembered the Generals words. "Yes, just following standard procedures. Can you bring the others in view please?"

Wilkes sat with a look of confusion, but trusting in the Colonel, he obliged. Turning to an obstructed audience he said. "Guys can you come here real quick? Colonel wants to see us."

From inside, someone shouted. "The Colonel's here? What for?"

"I don't know." Wilkes shot a quick look back at Thompson. "Standard procedures." He shrugged.

A small march traveled closer to join Wilkes. Thompson saw the faces of the remaining astronauts, and began tracing through his memory of each one. Danielle Langois, a woman with light brown skin and braided hair kept high and tight, a quarter-sized blemish sat on the left side of her face in between where her jaw meets her ear, Captain of the Apollo-22. Curtis Wilkes, a pale man with a slightly crooked nose that offset a handsome idyllic face, Commander of the Apollo-22. Renard Simmons, a lanky black man with large dark eyes that one couldn't help but gaze into as if the cosmos themselves were nestled in his sharp face, Lunar Module Pilot of the Apollo-22. Thompson looked to the last one. Avery Robins, a shorter man with black hair and an inherited permanent smirk that rested naturally on his face no matter his mood, Orbital Module Pilot of the Apollo-22.

All stood in view of the port window still wearing their secondary space suits. Thompson darted his eyes back and forth between each crew member. He knew, that one among them did not belong, one among them was hitherto unrecognizable in its shroud of human flesh. But Thompson could not discern who it was. He felt a cold shudder crawl up his spine as his mind was flooded with vivid memories of time spent with all four, but factual in his mind was that this was a shuttle meant for a crew of three. An anomaly in his strict world of logic. He was making direct eye contact with a non-planetary being, something no one before him had ever done. The thought alone enticed him. But as the antelope cannot see the eyes of the lion among the grass, Thompson could not discern the traitor amongst the loyal. Only a few inches of metal with a hole of glass kept them apart. The astronauts were grouped together in their flame-orange suits, their very existence an effigy erected in defiance of mankind's self-diagnosed isolation. Here under the sun, they stood together in blasphemy.

"Thompson? Are you okay?" The words pulled the Colonel from his fugue state. His eyes met with Simmons.

"Yes. Sorry about that Simmons. Just this damn heat. Ha ha." Thompson gave a half hearted laugh. "But yes, there's some damage on portside engines 2 and 3, were gonna have to run through a few procedures to make sure the craft is safe. We're gonna try to get you out as soon as possible, but for now, we need you to stay put."

"If there's an issue with the engines, then wouldn't it be safer to leave the shuttle?" Asked Langois. The astronauts all turned to Thompson for his answer.

"Normally yes, but in the case of a malfunction of both mechanical and electrical means, we need to make sure that doing one thing doesn't activate another. For safety reasons, we need all of you to stay near the cockpit."

"Are you sure? I don't think opening a door is gonna blow up the engine." Wilkes said.

"Do you wanna find out Commander?" Thompson said with slight frustration.

"No sir, I'm just suggesting that that if the shuttle is dangerous then maybe we should try to evacuate the area as soon as possible. It doesn't make sense to keep us in this hot box!" Replied Wilkes. The other astronauts slightly backed away.

"I understand your frustration, but in case of an emergency, we have to treat every variable as a major risk." Thompson wiped sweat off his head.

This time Robins stepped forward. "Sir, with all due respect, if there's anyone that knows the ship it's us. Besides, the wiring for the door and the engine are on completely different operating systems."

Wilkes immediately responded. "There see? They're on different operating systems. It's fine." He reached to open the hatch.

Thompson shouted at the Commander. "Back away from the door Commander!" Thompsons voice carried with it the authority only acquired from years of military service and command.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Doing as ordered, Wilkes pulled away from the lever and raised his hands in view of the window. "I'm not doin' anything. All clear Colonel."

Thompson took a breath and shuddered on the exhale. He spoke with a clarity on each word. "I know it's on different systems. But after a landing with that strong of an impact, we don't know what wires have been crossed or damaged. By ignoring my orders you are also ignoring any and all possible risk."

"Because there is no risk!" Said Wilkes. "for every bit of circuitry and machinery there's a very sensitive alarm attached. If something was seriously wrong with the ship, we'd have known Colonel. Don't you think you're being a little paranoid?"

"No commander. I do not." Thompsons brow pulled together into a deep scowl. "I am doing my job as your superior officer, and I will not stand for this insubordination! Stay in the shuttle commander, that's an order!"

"Yes sir." Said Wilkes, he clenched his jaw as he looked away from Thompsons steel gaze.

Langois spoke up to try and mediate. "Maybe we could help with the diagnostics." Wilkes and Thompson looked at her. "We've been working this shuttle for months in space, and we've all trained for years." She gestured to the other three. "If there's something wrong I'm sure we can figure it out."

"That's not necessary Langois. I promise you were doing our best to get you out of there. For now, try to stay near the front of the shuttle, we're gonna try and conduct some minor post-mission interviews. We'll do them through the camera feed, see how far we can get." Thompson checked his watch. "I have to go. I'll be back as soon as possible, if anything comes up we'll contact you." Carefully looking over the astronauts, Thompson gave one final note. "If any of you notice anything strange, report in immediately, understood?" He gauged their faces for a reaction, for any hint of a dropped mask.

The crew looked among each other. Simmons spoke over them. "What do you mean strange?"

Thompson quickly thought of an excuse. "Just be on the lookout for anything that changes. If so much as a lightbulb flickers without your input, notify us immediately."

Wilkes let out an exasperated breath, tired of the Colonels persistent self obsessed worry. "Yes sir. We'll be on the lookout." He walked towards the cockpit. The others followed soon behind him. Simmons gave a thumbs up to the Colonel before following suit, Thompson returned the gesture as they vanished from sight. He saw nothing. No slight knee-jerk reaction, no liars tells, nothing. Normal across the board. This scared him more than anything.

Thompson turned around and began to descend the stairs. Mid stride he stopped and looked down at the steps, he peered over the railing, and continued his descent. While there was nothing out of the ordinary, he couldn't help but remember that he never gave an order or the go-ahead to place the staircase. He wondered if this was all part of it. That whatever is inside the shuttle also had some form of physical capabilities as well as mental. He hurried down while trying his best to seem calm. "Couldn't be off sooner." He thought as he hopped off the final step and returned to the car, glad to be both at a distance and in the shade.

Thompson got in the back seat next to Tippen. He let out a trapped breath and rubbed his eyes with both hands. Tippen never took his eyes off the Colonel.

The General wasted no time in asking, "Is everything under control Colonel?"

Thompson adjusted his glasses. "Yes, they got the message. Had to pull rank, but they gave me no choice."

"Are you sure? I could step in for you if proves too much. No shame in letting someone take the wheel." Tippen spoke with eagerness.

Thompson saw through this. "That won't be necessary General, I can handle this well enough. This is my operation." Thompson looked up the stairs to the door. "That being said, we have a problem."

Tippen leaned forward with expectation, the leather of his seat creaking under his shifting weight. "What kind of problem Colonel?" .

Thompson remained focused on the Apollo-22. "I was hoping that I'd be able to know immediately who it was that didn't belong. That all I'd have to do was look at them and I'd spot the fake but..." His voice trailed off.

Tippen put his hand on Thompsons shoulder. "But what Colonel?"

Thompson looked back to the General. "I have faint memories of all of them. Each one on board, but I distinctly remember this being a three person mission. No more, no less."

The General glanced up to the shuttle. "Your officer, Clarke, he told us that this is all just one big mistake that you don't want to admit." He looked back to Thompson. "Are you sure that it's supposed to be three?"

"Yes. I will tell you with absolute certainty, that there is someone on that ship that isn't supposed to be. But I do not know who."

Tippen turned to the driver. "Take us back." He looked back to Thompson. "Well then, how do you wanna continue Colonel?"

Thompson looked one last time at the shuttle before answering. "I told them to keep to the front of the shuttle and that we're carrying out the debriefing over the comms. My hope is that we can use these as interrogations to see if any of their stories don't match up with what we have on file."

"If we have personal files on all of them then why can't we just see which ones we have and match it with who's on board? "

Thompson thought back to the screen, when the display changed from three astronauts to four. "I'm not certain that'll help. It can make its own information. I saw it change the display in the control room before I came out to the blacktop."

This information made angered Tippen "If it can do that then what's the point of the questioning through the electric cameras?"

"Because we have physical files too. And so far this seems like the only thing we can do to get information out of the astronauts without alerting both crew and invader that we know somethings wrong. And as far as we know it's still a living thing in unfamiliar territory. Stranger in a strange land, it's bound to slip up at somepoint. And there's our opportunity."

"Your plan is to wait for it to make a mistake? How very reassuring." Tippen had a crude smirk on his face.

Thompson, trying desperately to stay calm, cut through the Generals sarcasm. "Do you have any better ideas?"

A vein bulged on Tippens forehead as he faced forward, not many people are allowed to speak to him like this and get away with it. But this was a sensitive situation. One that called for him to keep his temper in check.

Keeping in time, they continued their drive back to the crowd and away from the shuttle. As they did, Thompson couldn't help his curiosity. "General, why head to the shuttle? Wouldn't it make more sense to do things remotely?"

Tippen spoke without looking at Thompson, his eyes fixed on something just past the passenger seat. "Yes. But protocol says that when something like this happens we need to gather as much in-person information as possible."

Thompson narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Where is that stated? I don't know that one."

"There's a lot you don't know. Normally this whole thing would be above your pay grade, but this is your operation." He said condescendingly. "Anything going forward is a strictly need to know basis."

"I don't understand." Thompson looked over to see what the General was staring at. He saw that Tippen was looking in the passenger side mirror, keeping a strict eye on the shuttle as they moved farther and farther away.

The vehicle stopped a few yards away from the crowd. Tippen, finally turning towards Thompson, ended their talk with one last order. "Word of advice Colonel. You might wanna start thinking less about what you understand, and more about what to do next." Realizing that there were other matters at hand. Thompson left to go bring the crowd up to speed. As Tippen got out the vehicle, he gave one last look at the shuttle. He noticed, just barely, the unmistakable bright orange of an astronaut suit standing at the shuttle door window. Even though he had no proof or reason, Tippen knew that it was staring at him. The figure moved away from view and the General went to join Thompson at the crowd.

The men and women of NASA stayed together during Thompson and Tippens visit to the shuttle. A few tried to go back inside to the refreshing A/C, but Clarke, following orders, kept everyone present and alert. Unlike the Colonel, Clarke was not afraid to use his voice. While he was not often in a position to give orders, when he did, he made sure everyone heard it. A method that was the subject of many personal meetings with Thompson. When Clarke saw the two men return from the ship, he pushed his way through the crowd to stand with them.

"Thompson!" Clarke shouted, he nodded to Tippen. "General. Any update on the shuttle and the crew?"

The Colonel pushed up his glasses as he spoke to the officer. "They're gonna remain in the shuttle for now. Inside we'll conduct the debriefings over the remaining camera. Or what's left of it. In the meantime, have the stairs removed. I didn't authorize their use."

"I did that sir." Said Clarke.

"You called for them to be placed shipside? I did not ask you to do that." The Colonel kept himself calm despite the insubordination.

He stiffened his back. "It was an emergency situation, and you were still inside the control room. It seemed like it was necessary."

"What's necessary is making sure that I am aware of any and all variables. This is an emergency situation and you deliberately went over my head. The next time you need to make a call, clear it with me first. Understood?" The Colonel stared at Clarke with silent fury.

"Understood... sir." Clarke clenched his jaw in embarrassment as Thompson walked by him to talk to the rest of the group.

The usual chatter was present on the blacktop.

"If this isn't included in our holiday bonus, I'm filing a complaint. This is the third time we've been held up because of Thompsons paranoia." Someone said.

"Think we'll be out of here before 8? I promised my wife we'd have dinner with her parents." Asked the one next to him.

He replied. "At the rate things are going, we'd be lucky to leave at 10."

"Thank God."

One group of three sat near the edge talking about the latest episode of a show they all watch. Another bunch were discussing the details of their upcoming DnD session, and if they should kick a player out or not. Others were talking about trying different stretches to help back pain stemming from years of being hunched over in a chair. Meanwhile, the grunts in green were talking of getting transferred, or being promoted to a desk job. Almost everyone present were all lost in their own little worlds, ignorant of the present danger. Despite this, they all had some form of minor complaint. They complained about their jobs, complained about their cars, complained about their bosses, but mostly they complained about the heat. It was in this that their whining began to harmonize, shared disgusts often bred shared values. This congregation sat in the sun, and forged a newfound bond in their mutual dislike. To them, heat was nothing but miserable. Clothes were sweaty, cheeks were flushed red, and still they had to wait. Without a single drop of water to go around. They prayed for rain or a wind or a stray puff of cloud to cover the sun, even if just for a second. As they sat in silent prayer, Thompson approached and stood on a small box. He held his hands up as he spoke to the group.

"I understand you're all probably wondering what's happening. While I can't tell you any details, what I can tell you is that so far everything seems to be under control." He darted his eyes around the crowd. Most of them were anticipating bad news or orders to move from this piece of hot tarmac to another piece of hot tarmac. "For now, I want everyone to please move inside the building in an orderly fashion and to please await further instruction."

A wave of relief hit the group as they finally could escape the heat. The ones sitting down stood up and stretched their legs. Slowly they all shuffled towards the A/C controlled building.

Thompson gave a few more words. "Be sure to have your I.Ds ready, and to present them to the guard at the door! We need to make sure everyone is accounted for!" His voice was partially drowned out by the sound of marching feet and continued conversations. The soldiers brought along with General Tippen formed a perimeter around the group of analysts and engineers, keeping a close on everybody. One by one they approached the building door and presented their lanyards and name tags. Each person that walked up was restless going through the tedium of presenting identification and waiting for the guard to check their name off his clipboard. A chilled breeze would frequently tease their senses.

Making sure that no one was left behind, Thompson, Tippen, and Clarke stood by the double doors and helped the standing guard with the head count. They had to watch as everyone experienced the relief of cool air and cool water as the four of them stood in the open heat. Moisture clouded in their armpits and ran in warm rivers down their backs. Throughout this arduous process, the cold wind would occasionally reach far enough to fall gently on their faces, it was a small but welcome respite.

As the last few went in, Thompson looked over the guards check list, small beads of sweat dripped off his nose and onto the paper. Wanting to have no unknown variables, Thompson looked over it again, quietly repeating each name to himself. To make sure there were no stragglers, he checked again. To make sure he recognized every name, he checked again. To make sure he remembered each person attached to their name, he checked again. Finally satisfied, he said to the man "I think we're good. Go ahead and join the others." The guard looked at Tippen who gave him a single nod, with that, he left them to join the relief inside. The doors closing with a loud thump behind him.

Tippen stepped towards the soldiers and gave his order. "You heard the Colonel, everyone inside!" At this, they all quickly walked past the three men and into the building. Thompson had a look of worry on his face. Gathering his thoughts together he turned to Clarke. "Go on ahead. We'll meet you inside."

Clarke stood looking out across the black top, he took a deep breath before turning to Colonel Thompson. "Sir. Was this necessary?"

Thompson prepared himself for another argument. "Protocol states-"

"I'm not asking the protocol, I'm asking you. If you think this is necessary." Clarke sounded defeated, as if the years of sleepless nights finally caught up to him all at once. It was this that surprised Thompson the most. Tippen eagerly awaited his response.

The Colonel thought for a moment, he tried thinking of a readied response, but his mind was blank. He answered as truthfully as he could. "I think... I think that this is a very sensitive situation. And whatever we do we need to make sure it's the best possible option. I don't know what happens next," Thompsons voiced lowered, "but I'm not gonna let this get out of our control. No matter what." His voice had a sense of conviction that was unrecognizable to Clarke.

Clarke, unsatisfied by this answer, looked at Tippen for a moment before looking back to the Colonel. "Yes sir." As he reached for the door he hesitated, and looked back to Thompson. "Do you really think there's something dangerous on board?"

Thompson let the words hang for a bit before answering. "I think that we need to do what's necessary. And if there is, then we will do what's necessary."

Clarke scratched the side of his head and gave a simple "Hm." before heading inside. He found himself wondering what Thompson would do in a true crisis. A question that would be answered sooner than he thought.

Now only Thompson and Tippen remained.

Thompson turned to face the blacktop. He held his hands on his hips and craned his head up to the sky. He closed his eyes and basked in the sunlight. He felt the warm blanket of light cover his body, and a gentle curtain of wind danced on his cheeks. An angelic relief. Thompson enjoyed the sunny days, today was no exception. He needed this one now more than ever. It was an oasis. His skin lost sensation, all sound vanished except for the droning of absent though, he was completely disconnected from the world. In this moment, he felt like he was floating above everything.

The General tried to get his attention. "Colonel?"

Thompson couldn't hear him.

"Colonel!" The words broke through Thompsons barrier. He snapped his eyes open and in a second took in his surroundings to refamiliarize himself. He was pulled back to Earth.

Thompson made eye contact with Tippen. "Sorry General."

"Lets go." Tippen said. He reached for the door.

Thompson stopped him. "General, one last thing." Tippen kept his hold on the door.

"What is it?" He said.

"I thought back to what you said about protocols and what I do and don't know. When I got back from the shuttle?"

"What about it?" Tippen grew suspicious of what Thompson was getting close to.

"You said that 'when something like this happens that we need to as much in-person information as possible.' "

"So what?" Tippen scratched his chin.

"You specified 'in person' and now I'm wondering-"

"Wondering what?" Tippen impatiently cut him off.

Thompson looked the General dead in the eyes. "General. Has this happened before?"

Tippen drew a deep breath, he looked at the shuttle out on the asphalt before looking back to Thompson. "Would anything I say be what you want to hear?"

Thompson said nothing.

"Colonel. I find that in this line of work, yours especially, it's best not to ask questions you don't want answers to. It keeps you sane." The General gave one last lingering look to the shuttle, he momentarily held still before heading inside. Disappearing into the dark shade.

Thompson was left alone. Before going in, he turned to see what gave Tippen slight pause. He saw, out on the NASA blacktop, the Apollo-22. While it was faint, it was noticeable. Thompson saw a figure standing at the portside window, in it's bright orange suit. Watching. As if it was listening the entire time. A familiar fear crept up Thompsons back. He quickly turned away, shook his head to focus, and entered the building. No matter how sturdy the walls, or how much distance he put between himself and the shuttle, Thompsons long held idea of safety within the walls of Mission Control had been revealed to be a terribly naive illusion. An illusion that was now shattered beyond any repair.