Table of Contents

Title Page
Copyright Page
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dedication
BEWARE and WARNING!
 CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE and the CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE IN OVAL
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Beyond Escape! ©1986 R. A. Montgomery, Warren, Vermont. All Rights Reserved

Artwork, design, and revised text ©2005 Chooseco LLC,

Waitsfield, Vermont. All Rights Reserved

Interior artwork by: Jason Millet

Cover artwork by: Sittisan Sundaravej & Kriangsak Thongmoon

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First e-book edition September 2009

 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

R. A. MONTGOMERY has hiked in the Himalayas, climbed mountains

in Europe, scuba-dived in Central America, and worked in Africa. He lives
in France in the winter, travels frequently to Asia, and calls Vermont home.
Montgomery graduated from Williams College and attended graduate
school at Yale University and NYU. His interests include macro-economics,
geo-politics, mythology, history, mystery novels, and music. He has two
grown sons, a daughter-in-law, and two granddaughters. His wife, Shannon
Gilligan, is an author and noted interactive game designer. Montgomery
feels that the new generation of people under 15 is the most important asset
in our world.

For games, activities and other fun stuff,

or to write to R. A. Montgomery,
visit us online at visit www.cyoa.com
 To Anson & Ramsey
And to my friend Bill Coffin
 BEWARE and WARNING!

This book is different from other books.

You and YOU ALONE are in charge of what happens in this story.

There are dangers, choices, adventures and consequences, YOU must use
all of your wits and much of your exceptional intelligence. The wrong
decision could end in disaster—even death. But, don’t despair. At anytime,
YOU can go back and make another choice, alter the path of your story, and
change its result.

The year is 2051 and you are the Chief of Operations for all spy activities
outside the border of your new nation, Turtalia, Turtalia is located where the
states of Colorado, Utah, Wyoming, Oregon, Washington and Montana
once existed. Your archenemy, the nation of Dorado, is rumored to have
hooked up with guerrillas in the former state of California. So you have sent
your two best spies, Matt and Mimla in for a look. Now Matt and Mim are
missing and you must head into the rebel territory to find them yourself.
And there are signs Dorado is preparing to strike. Watch your back and
good luck!
 You are Chief of Operations for all spy activities outside the borders of
Turtalia. Turtalia is a democratic country that was formed in the middle part
of the twenty-first century after domestic and foreign wars split up what
was then called the United States.
Turtalia is made up of the former mountain states north of Arizona and
the northern plains states, extending into Canada. Its capital is Denver.
Turtalia is bordered to the south and southeast by the hostile totalitarian
state called Dorado, to the west by an untamed land, and to the east by a
haphazard jumble of quarrelsome states called Rebellium.
After winning a vicious war, Turtalia had tried to pacify Dorado. But the
Doradans broke away soon after their defeat, and they continue to be a
source of danger to Turtalia.
 You’re one of the true Turtalian heroes. During the difficult Doradan
Wars, you led a secret mission to Dorado to obtain their invasion plans. You
succeeded, and Turtalia foiled the Doradans in their attempted takeover.
You wear with pride the gold and silver ribbon, symbol of Turtalia’s highest
respect and love. Only two others have the right to the ribbon. Neither is
alive.
The year is 2051. The Doradans have been strangely quiet for the last
two years—a sure sign of trouble, you think.
It’s your responsibility to find out what’s going on outside Turtalian
borders and to prevent any new attacks on your country. Not long ago, you
sent two of your best agents, Mimla and Matt, to check on the situation in
the untamed land west of Turtalia. The land, once called California, has
been the scene of vicious guerrilla-style fighting. It’s hard to follow what’s
going on there.
Initial reports from Matt and Mimla indicated that the Doradans might be
working with some of the Californians, planning to use the area to stage a
new attack on Turtalia. But your two agents have failed to make their last
three radio contacts with Operations Center in Denver. When last heard
from, they were some one hundred miles due east of what used to be the
city of San Francisco.
 You’re pondering the problem in Operations Center when there’s an
urgent knock at your door. A lieutenant rushes in. She’s red-faced and
worried.
“Haven has escaped, Commander!”
“What?” you shout, jumping to your feet. Haven is a Doradan spy!
“When? How?”
“Sometime early this morning. And that’s not all! Three top-secret files
are missing from our Central Computer Office!”
Before you can fully digest what the lieutenant has said, another officer
enters the room. He hands you a computer printout. Your eyes scan the
words:

IN TROUBLE—EXTREMELY IMPORTANT
INFORMATION FOR YOU—NO TIME
HURRY IF YOU CAN—WE ARE—

“I think it’s from Matt and Mimla,” the second officer says.
“I’m sure it is,” you say. “‘We are’—what? Their last few words got cut
off.”
Now you’ve got two urgent crises. Haven, the notorious double agent,
has escaped, and Matt and Mimla seem to be in dire trouble. Which do you
confront first?
If you decide to go after Haven and the missing top-secret files, click here

If you decide to find Matt and Mimla, click here

 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “I’m from Turtalia,” you explain. “I’m on a mission to rescue two of our
people who were last reported in this vicinity.”
There’s a murmur among the group.
“Quiet! I can’t listen and put up with your babbling, too,” the leader says
to his band. He turns back to you. “How do we know this is true? Can you
prove it? None of you people are trustworthy, anyway.”
You think for a moment, and then reply, “I can’t prove anything. But let
me ask, who are you?”
The man takes a moment to think before he answers, “You’ve got a lot of
spunk, I’ll say that. Come with us. We’ll figure this out. My name is Sellers.
I’m the leader here.”
One of the band stays behind to guard the plane—and to search it.
Fortunately it’s unmarked and carries no military identification.
 You’re led over hilly, grassy terrain for nearly an hour. The initial
excitement of the landing and of being captured wears off and fatigue sets in.
After all, you flew your motor-glider for over eight hours with no rest. You
wish you’d finally get to wherever you’re being taken.
Ten minutes later, your wish is fulfilled. You enter a camp that consists of
a motley collection of tents, relics of happier times when hiking and
climbing were weekend or vacation sports in California. The fabric of the
tents—faded orange, yellow, tan—is worn, but they do provide shelter.
“Sit,” Sellers urges you. “What do you drink? Coffee? Tea? Not that it
matters. We only have herb tea, made from stuff we find along the way.”
He sits down next to you, and commands, “Tell your story.”
 So you do. Sellers nods from time to time as he listens to your story, but
says nothing until you’ve finished.
“Humph! Sounds reasonable. Don’t know these Matt and Mimla people,
but I’ve heard of them. I could help, if . . .”
“If what?” you ask.
“Slowly, my friend, slowly. There’s a criminal gang called the
Corporation in charge of what’s left of San Francisco. We’re Rebels—a
group of freedom fighters. Several groups like us are fighting the
Corporation, but we’re scattered. Communication is hard. Let’s make a
trade, you and me, okay?”
 “What kind of trade?” you ask, wary of this man but half-believing his
story of fighting for freedom against the criminal gang running San
Francisco.
“A simple trade. You fly me to several other Rebel bases. I know where
they are, or where they should be. I’ll get them to help find your people, but
meanwhile I get to coordinate our actions against Corporation units in the
area. Is it a deal?”
“If it isn’t, what then?” you ask.
“We wait until you decide that you want to cooperate. We have time.
That’s all we have, as a matter of fact.”
If you decide to take Sellers to other Rebel bases, click here

If you decide to wait it out, click here

 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 You try the radio. No one answers.
“Nothing! Absolutely nothing,” you say, angry at your failure to contact
anyone and worried that you might well have given away your position.
You turn your attention back to flying and realize that you haven’t been
careful about watching your altimeter and airspeed while you tried the radio.
Now, suddenly, you discover that you’re below four thousand feet, and your
airspeed has dropped almost to stall speed!
The control surfaces begin to flutter and the stick becomes sluggish. You
increase power and push the nose forward to pick up speed.
The plane responds well, but you’re now zooming between rolling hills in
a narrow valley. Ahead of you looms a much larger, higher hill.
 “Yikes!” you yell as you pull back on the stick, giving the plane full
throttle. You barely make it over the crest of the hill.
“That would’ve been a dumb way to die,” you scold yourself. “I’ve got to
get a grip, or else I’ll never find Matt and Mimla.”
At that moment a heat-seeking rocket rises from one of the campsites
below.
The small fireball from your exploding plane is greeted with great joy by
the Doradan patrol that launched the rocket.

The End

Back to Beginning
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 In questioning the lieutenant who reported Haven’s escape, you learn that
he drugged his guards with herbs he found growing in the prison farm
fields. The prison farm is adjacent to Operations Center. How Haven got the
top-secret files is anyone’s guess, but it seems likely that there are Doradan
agents in the Turtalian forces who gave him a hand. That’s an unpleasant
but real part of the tangled political situation that now exists: spies are
everywhere.
Haven’s escape occurred several hours ago.
“I’ll have to act quickly,” you say to yourself. You try your best to push
Mimla and Matt out of your mind. They could be in serious danger, but you
know you have to handle one thing at a time.
You press the full-emergency warning button that sits on your desk. You
have command of a helicopter fleet and a ranger force of highly-trained
trackers and climbers. All the people in your command are dedicated, or so
you hope.
 “Okay, people, here’s the plan,” you announce to the five officers who
came rushing to your office in response to the emergency bell. “Haven can’t
have gotten too far. We’re surrounded by miles of semi-desert prairie. No
vehicles are missing from the motor pool, and no strange aircraft have been
reported in the area.”
“Commander, how can we be so sure that he’s out there?” a lieutenant
wearing the sand-colored camouflage uniform of the rangers asks. “Maybe
he never left the compound. Has it been searched?”
Another officer jumps in before you can answer. “The compound’s been
searched from turnip to washcloth. He’s not there.”
“Well, we’ll leave a detail here to assure that, if Haven is hiding, he’ll be
caught the minute he surfaces. Thank you both.” You nod at them and
continue, “I’ll take the lead helicopter and direct the search of the territory
due south from the air. Captain Ricardo, you take the rangers and spread out
in a southeasterly direction.”
 Your helicopter is one of the new generation of high-speed, low-noise
craft. The pilot is experienced and talented.
Soon you’re at an altitude of two thousand feet, busily scanning the
horizon with computer-enhanced binoculars capable of enlarging an image
seventy times. They also pick up radiation from living creatures.
You’re in constant contact with the forces on the ground led by Captain
Ricardo and the ranger lieutenant who had spoken earlier at the meeting.
Suddenly, clouds envelop your helicopter and radio communication is
knocked out. The clouds contain a choking, blinding gas. You and your
pilot reach for the oxygen equipment, but the pilot slumps forward and
stops breathing. A crimson circle appears on his uniform over his heart.
He’s dead!
If you try to land the helicopter yourself, click here

If you decide to bail out, click here

 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “Let’s see what the day brings, Sellers,” you say, yawning and stretching.
“It’s never good to make a decision when you have an empty stomach and a
tired body.”
Sellers nods and gives commands to some of his people. Moments later
you’re given the herb tea he mentioned, a good cup of chamomile tea, and a
stew, probably rabbit. It’s hot, nourishing, and delicious.
Then you’re handed a down sleeping bag patched many times in a crazy-
quilt pattern of fabrics. Finally, you lie down inside the tent assigned to you,
and stare out through the tent flap. The sky is clear now and dawn is not far
off. The soft grass beneath you is a welcome mattress. Outside your tent a
woman sits cross-legged with a weapon on her lap. She’s your guard, but
also your protector.
 Sleep comes quickly, perhaps due to drugs in the tea, perhaps due to the
fatigue of a long day. Dreams cascade through your head. At one point
you’re running wildly up a steep, sloping path, desperate to gain the top—
except that the path goes on forever.
Later you dream that you’re back in school, taking exams, but you can’t
remember what subjects you’ve studied or what exams you must take. You
toss and turn, thrashing inside the narrow sleeping bag. Then you dream
that you’ve found Matt and Mimla. This dream seems very real. Only you
can’t understand why Mimla is shaking you.
 I must still be dreaming, you think as you open your eyes. Mimla is
leaning over you. Matt stands beside her.
“Thank heavens you found us, Commander,” Mimla says. “We’ve been
desperate to get in touch with you. The radio equipment was smashed in our
last fight with the Corporation. How are you?”
“What? How did you get here?” you blurt, wide awake now.
“I brought them to verify who you are,” says Sellers. He stands behind
Matt. “I decided to make sure you weren’t on the wrong side, so I drugged
you. I knew all along where Matt and Mimla were camped.”
He gives you a smile that disappears quickly. “Now comes the hard part.
We’re surrounded by Doradan and Corporation troops. In this light it won’t
take them long to spot your plane and come looking for you. Then we’re in
the soup.”
 Matt and Mimla confirm Sellers’ report.
“What are our choices?” you ask.
Sellers crouches at the tent flap and looks at the first rays of dawn over
the distant mountains. “We could try to hide the plane, cover it with brush,
and hope they don’t spot it. Or you three could try to make it to the plane
and take off. Chances are those Doradans are still asleep; they’re a lazy
bunch.”
 If you decide to try to hide the plane and wait until night before taking
off, click here

If you decide to take off immediately, click here

 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “If we really are surrounded, then we don’t stand a chance in daylight,”
you say. “The plane is slow on climbout, particularly with three of us
aboard. Let’s see what we can do about hiding it.”
Matt and Mimla agree, but Sellers mutters, “Your funeral. I think you
should go while the going’s good, but do as you wish.”
He gives a series of commands, and several of his people go off to hide
the plane.
You, Matt, and Mimla sit and talk. They tell you that the Doradans have
formed an alliance with the Corporation and that an air attack on Turtalia
from the west is inevitable. Parachute troops will be used. The attack is to
be coordinated with an attack on Turtalia from Dorado in the south.
“Even now, Doradan troop planes are arriving here, getting ready for the
attack. I’m afraid nothing will stop them,” Matt says.
“Let’s use the radio,” Mimla suggests. “We can contact Operations
Center right away.”
You shake your head. “We can’t risk alerting the Doradans that their
plans for a coordinated surprise attack are known. Our communications are
too easy to intercept. We’d better concentrate on getting back to Operations
Center as fast as possible after dark. We can launch a commando-style raid
from there.”
 Tension mounts as the day unfolds. You wait uneasily for darkness to
fall. Enemy patrols are in the hills all around you. The tents in the Rebel
camp have been dismantled and stowed away. Everyone stays under cover.
No movement is allowed.
The Rebels lie with their weapons at the ready, scanning the horizon.
Occasionally there are signs of activity far off in the distance. Your area
seems to be immune to discovery or attack.
Finally night comes and it’s time to leave for Turtalia. With good-byes
and pledges of friendship, you, Matt, and Mimla quickly head toward the
field where your plane is hidden.
The takeoff is dicey, but you make it and climb out of the valley. You
bank and head due east. Your last look at the valley shows pinpricks of light
from weapons fire. Corporation and Doradan troops are attacking the Rebel
group.
 “I hope the Rebels make it,” Mimla says.
You nod grimly and turn back to watch your plane’s course. Silently you
add your own hope that you and your agents will make it. There’s not much
time left before the Doradan invasion spreads eastward. You push the
motor-glider to top speed, racing the clock to get Matt and Mimla’s vital
intelligence back to Turtalia.

The End

Back to Beginning
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 You move the pilot out of the way and take the controls of the helicopter.
It dips and swerves in a half-loop until you stabilize it. You use a
combination of rotor speed and emergency jet thrusters to bring it under
control. Frantically, you key the mike, hoping radio communication has
been restored.
“Come in, Ranger Three. Mayday! Mayday!”
There’s no response, not even the usual static crackle. Looking at the
control panel, you see that the radio’s been destroyed. It must have been hit
in the same attack that killed the pilot. But how did it happen? You haven’t
heard or seen any enemy aircraft.
Just when you think you have the helicopter under control, it pitches and
yaws again in a violent swing.
Suddenly you see them! In a tight formation in front of your helicopter
are three disklike shapes moving at a slow speed. They have a luminescent
quality, as if the sun is shining through them or reflecting onto them from
water.
Zam!
A bright light flashes to the port side of the helicopter.
 “Oh, no!” you yell. “Those are alien ships, not Doradan planes!”
Desperately you attempt to dive away from the frightening fire coming
from the strange craft hovering near you.
With a speed unknown to you, one of the crafts disappears. The other two
converge on you.
“Help! Help, someone—anyone! They’re going to get—”
Those are the last words you ever say.

The End

Back to Beginning
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 Once you’ve made up your mind, you set yourself for action. Your body
tenses, preparing to release its energy in one smooth, swift blow.
Slowly you reach down, pretending your boot lace has come undone.
Haven seems unconcerned. You kneel on the sandy ground, fumble with
your lace, and prepare for the move to grasp the metal rod. You can hear
your own heartbeat.
 “Now!” you say to yourself.
Grabbing the rod, you jump to your feet. With a sweeping movement,
you swing the rod toward Haven.
The metal rod clangs against an impenetrable and invisible barrier and
bounces back. You’re knocked off your feet by the force of the rebound,
landing on your back.
 Haven peers down at you.
“I do not blame you, Commander. After all, why should you trust me?
Talk is cheap, as you Earth types say. I fear, though, that we have to start
trusting each other sometime. Let me help you aboard the spacecraft so we
can talk some more. If I give you back the top-secret files you came after,
maybe you will trust me.”
There’s nothing to do now but go with Haven. You aren’t sure whether
you’re a prisoner or not, but at the moment, the choices are in the hands of
this being called Haven.
You will need to do whatever it takes: talk, negotiate, plan. For now,
survival is your main goal. You can only hope Haven is the forgiving type
and will allow you to take back your earlier decision.

The End

Back to Beginning
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “Climb aboard!” you say to Sellers early the next morning, when the two
of you have returned to your motor-glider. “Let’s just hope you know where
we’re going.
“I do. Anyway, I’ve always believed that everyone has the right to fail. If
we don’t try, there’s no chance to succeed. Trust me.”
He buckles himself into the plane, and you close the canopy. Moments
later you’re airborne.
Sellers looks down and smiles. “We were surrounded, you know,” he
says.
“What? You mean down there?” you reply in horror at the idea that
you’ve just made a takeoff in a valley surrounded by hostile troops who
could have easily blown you out of the sky.
“Well, they didn’t know they had us surrounded, but they did. Four or
five Doradan and Corporation patrols are out there. We’ve been watching
them, waiting for our chance to get out. With luck, we can stay one jump
ahead of them.”
Sellers stops talking and again looks out at the seemingly peaceful world
below.
 Blindly you follow the directions Sellers gives you.
“I hope we’re getting close,” you tell him after you’ve been flying for
some time. “Looks like bad weather ahead.”
He nods silently, and you turn your attention back to your flying. Soon
the sky is filled with towering thunderheads capable of ripping the wings
off any airplane—and especially off the delicate motor-glider you’re flying.
You dodge in and out of the clouds, climbing, diving, banking, and turning.
Lightning flashes all around you, illuminating the clouds as though
someone were switching on lamps inside them. The wind currents at twelve
thousand feet gust well over forty knots, and your plane is tossed like a toy.
You fly on and on, battling to stay in the air. Twice you slip through the
clouds looking for a place to land, but without success.
 Time passes in agonizing minutes. Hope for a break in the storm is the
only thing that keeps you going. Finally, you enter a cloud so dense and so
high that you pray you will get out of it alive.
Your prayer is not answered. You and Sellers and your airplane meet the
unyielding rock face of a mountain hidden by the clouds. The end comes
mercifully fast.

The End

Back to Beginning
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 At your present airspeed you’ll reach San Francisco in an hour. Turtalian
intelligence has given you the name of a man there who may be able to help
you trace the actions and movements of Matt and Mimla. He might even
guide you to the area where Matt and Mimla transmitted that last message.
There’s a slight headwind, but the flying is easy. The campfires below
fade from view. Soon you’re soaring over the mountains and starting to
descend toward San Francisco.
Reports in Turtalia have indicated that San Francisco and its surrounding
areas are divided into three hostile segments. A gang of criminals called the
Corporation maintains control of the central part of the city, from the docks
to the top of Telegraph Hill and out to the Golden Gate Bridge. Or, what
once was the Golden Gate Bridge—now it’s nothing but jumbled concrete,
metal, and cable on either side of the bay, with no bridge spanning water.
The Corporation is a mixture of military people, gamblers, and drug
dealers. It’s headed by the president of a famous high-tech company. He has
turned his creative genius to the organization of political power over a once
populous and successful city. There is apparent madness in his appetite for
raw power.
 Intelligence reports also have indicated that factions within the
Corporation want the president out—indeed, want him dead. But he seems
to have a genius for survival. He’s unpredictable, unfair, and brilliant.
The other two groups in and around San Francisco are resistance factions
fighting the Corporation. They vie with one another for the support of a
dazed, poverty-stricken, and frightened population. One group is called the
Rebels; the other changes its name about as often as the weather changes.
Your contact is a member of the Rebels.
The airport for which you’re heading is in a disputed area. Since your
plane can also land in a small field, you decide against trying the airport and
instead look for the playing fields on the former University of California
campus in Berkeley. The university is closed, of course. What remains of it
lies in a San Francisco Bay district reported to be under the control of the
Rebels.
 Minutes later you spot the football field and decide from a careful check
that it’s probably safe to land there. You don’t try making radio contact.
The landing is easy. The plane comes to a stop at what used to be the
fifty-yard line. No one is about. You climb out of the cockpit, grab your kit
bag, and head out to find the man named Jeremy, your Rebel contact.
 Physically, the part of Berkeley near the university seems pretty much
unchanged. But many of the homes are abandoned, the people having fled
to the country, afraid of the fighting among the three hostile groups.
You have a year-old map of the area provided by Turtalian intelligence.
In the morning, you should be able to locate Jeremy at a restaurant called
the Hungry Pelican.
You decide to spend the hours until daylight in one of the abandoned
houses. Once inside, you sit down and pull out your map. Before you open
it, the strain of your long flight overcomes you. Your eyes close.
 When you wake up it’s morning. The fog across the bay is beginning to
lift. It’s a beautiful day, but you feel lonely and sad as you walk along the
empty, quiet streets.
The Hungry Pelican is open for breakfast, and twelve or fifteen people
are huddled over a counter. When you enter, the babble of voices ceases.
Slowly faces turn to look at you. You nod a greeting, yet the silence remains
unbroken.
If you decide to take a seat at the counter, click here

If you decide to back out and wait for a better time, click here
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 You put the motor-glider into a long, slow banking turn. At eight
thousand feet it’s very difficult to make out the details of the terrain. You
kick the rudder pedal and push the stick over and forward. Your plane
sideslips quietly and effortlessly until the altimeter reads six thousand feet.
There are rolling hills below, and you feel that this is the safest altitude for
now. You level off and cut back on the throttle.
Scanning the country around the campsites, you see ample landing room
in grassy open spaces. One field is fairly close to one of the campfires.
“I wonder if I should try radio contact,” you say to yourself. “It’s risky.
It’d be a dead giveaway if those are hostile troops. On the other hand, it
would save time and be safer if I could get someone to help check the field
before I land.”
If you try to make radio contact, click here

If you decide to go in without radio contact, click here

 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “Okay, Haven, or whoever you are, I’ll take a chance and go aboard this
thing of yours.” Your curiosity is so great that you can’t give up this
opportunity to board a spacecraft.
“Fine. I thought you’d agree. You are a thoughtful and intelligent
creature, Commander,” Haven says.
He reaches out again and takes your hand. Seconds later you materialize
inside the craft. Nothing about the outside of the silvery craft, with its
smooth, metallic skin, prepared you for what you’d find inside. You look
around in surprise at the glass-like, many-faceted interior. It’s like being
inside a diamond.
“Where are we?” you blurt out, stunned by the brilliant, multicolored
light that reflects inwardly from the facets.
“We are within a complex carbon atom that has been enlarged to a size
appropriate for earth voyaging,” replies a creature that has appeared beside
Haven. The creature is square, sharp-edged, and metallic gray, with red
plastic fittings.
Before your eyes it develops mechanical arms and legs, a body, and a
head. It reminds you of something you’ve read about—the Japanese
“Transformer” toys that were so popular years ago in the former United
States.
 “You certainly are a changeable sort, aren’t you?” you say nervously to
your new companion.
Haven chuckles and crosses his arms, leaning back against a crystal wall.
“Just watch.” The robotlike creature begins to soften. The metallic gray
changes to flesh tones, the mechanical arms and legs become soft and
flexible, and finally there’s an earth-type person standing next to you. This
person, dressed in the conventional unisex clothes common to Turtalia,
smiles and says, “Not bad for a beginner, is it?”
Turning to Haven, you ask, “What is it you want of us here on Earth?
What do we have that you don’t?”
Haven looks at you and replies in a calm, measured tone, “We need two
things: first, a secret operations base to house our attack arm. We are at war
with the neighboring galaxy.”
“What else?” you ask.
“A home for our people if, or when, we must leave our planet. We need
your help to convince the Turtalian Congress to aid us. The Doradans are
too paranoid and selfish to help anyone.”
Haven waits for your reply.
If you decide to take up Haven’s cause, click here

If you stall for time and try to leave the crystal, click here
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “Look, I’m just an ordinary civilian,” you say. “My brother’s been living
outside of San Francisco for years. He moved there before the bad times.
I’m trying to find him. I want . . .”
“Stop right there, “ the man with the lamp says. “You look honest. I
follow instincts. I don’t believe your story, but for some oddball reason, I
trust you. I’m called Sellers, and these are—”
Just then an owl hoots. Sellers holds his hand up.
“Quiet!” he whispers to you. “That’s one of my people. There could be
company we don’t need or want around here.”
Two shots are fired. They’re accurate: two of the civilians near you
slump to the ground.
“Hold your fire,” Sellers yells to his people. “Every shot must count.”
He grabs you by the arm and pulls you down behind a jumble of
boulders.
“Here, use this if you want,” he says, handing you an automatic weapon.
He also hands you two clips of ammunition. “We Rebels don’t have much
ammunition, so use it wisely.”
 Gunfire fills the air. You look toward your plane just in time to see a
barrage of bullets slam into it. There’s a muffled whump as the gas tank
explodes. In minutes your plane becomes a twisted, ugly, black tangle of
metal and melted plastic.
Sellers grabs your arm again.
“Sorry about all this. You may be better off on your own. I wouldn’t
blame you if you want to slip away into the woods.”
If you decide to slip away on your own, click here

If you decide to stay with Sellers, click here

 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 You scan your instruments, automatically checking your airspeed and
altimeter reading. Landing on an unknown field can be tricky.
“But not as tricky as using the radio when there may be Doradans
around,” you remind yourself out loud. The crackle of your voice in the
dimly lit cabin of the motor-glider sounds unreal to you.
You repeatedly scan the sky for other aircraft and watch the clouds as
they pass between you and the land. Twice you circle what seems to be the
best landing spot. Then you set up for landing and begin the final approach.
“Flaps down, airspeed correct, wings level,” you tell yourself, staring
into the fast-approaching dark area of grassy field.
Your plane pitches and rolls in changing air. You move the controls
gingerly but knowingly.
 The wheels of your motor-glider touch the earth. The plane rolls through
the grass, bumping across uneven ground. You kick the rudder pedals
several times, trying to avoid what looks like rocks or bumps in the terrain.
Your efforts don’t do much good.
With one last jolt, the plane comes to a stop.
“Not bad,” you congratulate yourself as you unlatch the canopy. Cool,
fragrant night air rushes over you.
You stretch, then unsnap your seat belt and shoulder harness. Once you
flick off the switches, the plane becomes a silent, motionless piece of the
landscape.
Your survival kit is in the backseat. You reach around, pick it up, and step
out of the cockpit and onto the wing.
“Don’t move or you’re dead.” The voice from the darkness startles you.
You hear the unmistakable click of an automatic weapon going from safety
to full automatic.
“Okay! Okay! I’m not moving,” you say. Fear makes your voice sound
feeble and thin.
“Now, step down slowly. Drop the bag on the ground. Hands up,” the
voice says in a steady, assured tone.
You do as it says. You have no choice.
“Stop right there,” the voice commands.
Moments later you’re surrounded by five people dressed in civilian
clothes. One of them picks up your kit bag. The man who gave the
commands illuminates a small lamp and looks at you.
He speaks again. “If you’re a Doradan, you can count the moments left in
your life on both hands. If you’re not, you’d better do some fast talking.”
 If you tell your captors who you really are and explain about Matt and
Mimla, click here

If you pretend you’re a civilian trying to locate your brother who lives
outside of San Francisco, click here
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “You may be right, Sellers. Goodbye and good luck. I hope you make it,”
you tell him.
“Yeah, see you around, “ he replies, then turns to the job at hand.
You saw where your kit bag was dropped when the shooting started, and
you’re able to find it in the dark. All around you people are fighting for
their lives. You wonder how many others will try to slip away into the night
and escape the madness of gunfire.
You shrug into the shoulder straps of the kit bag and crawl back from the
ring of fire, moving like a snail, hoping to get away unnoticed.
The intensity of the battle eases, and you rise to a crouching position.
You begin to run, bent low over the ground. Nothing happens! You’re still
alive. You haven’t been seen.
You cover a hundred yards, stop, catch your breath, then travel another
hundred yards and stop again. Gunfire erupts with renewed ferocity. You
now hear the persistent and ominous thump of mortar rounds. Cries of pain
and terror are carried through the night air. You keep moving.
 You start to feel you can’t run anymore, at least not at the pace you’ve
set. Your lungs feel as though they’re about to burst. No one seems to have
noticed you. Maybe you’ve slipped past all the attackers.
Hunkering down on the ground beside rocks and low bushes, you catch
your breath and look back at the inferno you’ve just fled. The flashpoints of
gunfire seem harmless from this distance. The only sound is a mild
popping.
“I can’t rest for long,” you say to yourself and start off again. You walk at
a fast pace, following the natural contour of the hills.
Hours pass. You nibble on a mint cake and raisin bar from your kit bag
for energy. Dawn rapidly approaches. You feel you’re free of the danger
zone, at least for now.
 By the time daylight finally comes, you’re in a pine forest on the slopes
of steep hills that lead to mountains. You stop and pull a map out of your kit
bag. The map indicates that you’re near what was once a ski resort called
Squaw Valley. It might be around the next mountain.
Then you hear a noise. It’s the buzzing sound of a light plane, probably
an observation plane. Is it searching for me? you wonder.
If you take cover and wait until the plane leaves, click here

If you decide to go on, trying to stay hidden in the trees, click here
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 You drop to the ground, knocking Haven down with a kick to his legs.
Before he can respond, you’re on your feet and running in the direction of
the three rangers.
“Don’t fire. It’s me!” you shout. But they’re too far away to identify you.
They watch your approach warily.
You run as hard as you can. There’s no looking back. At any moment you
expect a shot or a paralyzing ray to hit you. Haven won’t give me up too
easily, you think.
No shot rings out. No paralyzing ray stops you. The rangers stand with
weapons at the ready. You make one final burst forward and reach the
safety of the group.
“Thank heavens you’re here,” you gasp. “I’ve never been so happy—”
You stop when you see their grim faces. You suddenly realize that no one
has moved forward to help you.
“Don’t move, Commander. You can’t escape,” says a lieutenant newly
assigned to the ranger force. “Don’t move or you’ll never move again.”
“What do you mean?” you cry. “Drop those weapons! Don’t you dare
aim them at me!”
 The lieutenant motions to one of the others, who snaps handcuffs on your
wrists. From behind some scrub pine a squad of soldiers emerges, wearing
the uniform of the Doradan army!
“Well done, Lieutenant!” Haven says. He has suddenly appeared at your
side. “Leave this Earthling to me.”
The ranger lieutenant snaps a salute and turns to talk with the Doradans.
“Where are my troops?” you ask, dreading the answer.
“We’ve taken care of them, don’t worry,” replies the turncoat lieutenant.
Haven leads you back toward the spacecraft.
“So, you’ve won after all, haven’t you, Haven?” you say in a disgusted
tone.
“Be calm, Commander. Nothing is ever what it appears to be. I am as
anxious to be free of these Doradans as you are. They are fascists. Our
intelligence has analyzed their system; fascism will not work in the long
run. As I told you, we need help, and we want it from you Turtalians. Will
you contact your home base and report our position? Your forces can
capture the Doradans, and we can begin discussions on how to help one
another.”
If you use your communicator to contact Operations Center, click here

If you decide to fake the communication, click here

 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “For some reason I believe you, Haven, despite your past history of
having helped the Doradans,” you say. “After all, you didn’t know how bad
the Doradans really are. First, though, tell me more. I need to know all
about you.”
“It will take time, Commander, unless you will allow me to do a Rapid
Information Transfer with our crystal circuit.”
“I don’t know. My circuits are humanoid; they might not interface with
yours,” you reply.
“Do not worry,” Haven says. “We have analyzed the human construction
and will tap in appropriately.”
 Once again, curiosity overcomes you. You agree. The humanoid form
next to Haven places a clear, glass-like bell over your head. Lights snap on
and off. Your head fills with the glorious and awful history of a planet and
civilization far off in a different galaxy. You begin to grasp the origin of the
Crystal People. You become a part of their life force.
You no longer have any doubts about these creatures. Now you must try
to convince others in Turtalia that the Crystal People need help. It won’t be
easy, but with the knowledge you’ve just gained, you’re confident you’ll
succeed.

The End

Back to Beginning
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 Your call to Operations Center results in an immediate response to your
request for help with the Doradans. With little or no firing, a Turtalian strike
force rounds up the Doradan team. Your ranger force, being held prisoner
two miles from the spacecraft, is quickly located. They’d been immobilized
by an old-fashioned gas once used by police to quell protests during the
political clashes of the 1960s in the United States. Its effectiveness was
temporary, and exposure to the gas caused no residual harm—just
tearstained faces.
Aboard the Turtalian command craft is the chief political officer of
Turtalia, a woman named Marileva.
“I’m anxious to talk with this being—this Haven—who paraded as the
Doradan spy. Where is he?” she asks you.
“Why, right here,” you reply. You turn to find that no one is standing
beside you. “He was here a minute ago!”
“Have no fear.” The voice of Haven floats in the air. “I am just resting for
a bit. It is quite fatiguing to be in humanoid form for too long.”
 Haven’s body begins to rematerialize beside you.
“I have information important to you Turtalians,” he says. “The Doradans
plan to launch a surprise attack on your capital in Denver within the next
week. I recommend striking their capital first. We can use my forces and
my craft. Will you accept our aid?” he asks. “Of course, we want something
in return.”
If you want to accept, click here

If you want to reject his offer of help, click here

 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “Morning. Nice day,” you say as you move toward the counter, hoping
nonchalance will break the ice. “Coffee, please.”
“No coffee. What do you think we are, a civilized nation, bud? It’s herb
tea, like it or lump it. That’s all we’ve got. That’s all we’ve had for seven
long years.”
“Fine. That will do just fine.”
You sit huddled over the strong, aromatic tea. Finally, you summon your
courage. “You wouldn’t happen to have an old copy of The New York Times
around, would you?” you ask the waiter. It’s your code. If the waiter is
Jeremy, he’ll recognize it.
He looks at you and asks, “What date?”
 “October 15, 1981,” you answer.
“It was a great day,” he replies and heads for the back of the restaurant.
“Come with me.”
Two men leave the counter and stand by the front door. You follow the
waiter into a back room.
“Okay. You know the code. Now what do you want? Who are you?”
Jeremy asks.
“I’m a Turtalian. I want information on Matt and Mimla, my agents. Are
they safe? Where are they? When were they here last?”
“You ask a lot of questions for a stranger. If we help you, what do we
get? Will Turtalia join us against the Corporation? We’re desperate now.”
 If you decide to pledge to work against the Corporation, click here

If you bargain with Jeremy, and avoid pledging direct Turtalian aid, click
here
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “Sure, Haven, I’ll contact my home base,” you say as you fiddle with the
communicator, stalling for time. You have a hunch that Haven is trying to
invade your security wavelength and head up a Doradan takeover attack.
Haven nods and turns his back to you to speak rapidly to one of his crew.
Meanwhile the Doradan forces are busy arranging the transport of their
prisoners—your ranger force—back to the Doradan territory. They move
off, paying little attention to you because they trust Haven and his crew.
Haven seems engrossed in his conversation. Scanning the immediate area
you see a metal rod about five feet long lying on the ground.
You think there’s a chance for escape, if you can knock Haven out, get
his weapon, and head for cover in the pinon trees.
You wait and watch. Haven concludes his talk, dismisses the crew
members, and turns back to you. The two of you are now alone. The
Doradans are out of sight.
If you decide to knock out Haven, click here

If you decide not to use force, click here

 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “We’ll need all the help we can get,” you say. “Those Doradans never
give up.”
You look at Marileva. She nods in agreement.
“Please ask for permission to lead a preemptive strike on the Doradan
capital,” you go on. “An emergency session of Congress should give it to
us.”
Marileva nods again and uses her communicator, scrambling the message
to avoid interception by any Doradan listening posts. Haven invites you and
Marileva inside his spacecraft. During the two hours that you anxiously
await the Turtalian Congress’s okay you learn of Haven’s home galaxy,
which is on the rim of the Outer Seat of Time.
“Do you mean, Haven, that between here and there, with all those
billions of planets and stars, only Earth seems like a suitable place for your
people?”
Haven is still in his humanoid form. He grins and replies, “What seems
like an impossible numbers of stars and planets to you is a mere trifle to us.
But the answer is yes. Earth is a comfortable place for us. And it is one of
the truly hopeful and bright spots in the universe.”
“That is, if you do not destroy yourselves in the way our planet is busy
doing,” he adds, looking grim.
 “I caution you to use great care in your strike against the Doradans,”
Haven continues. “Devastation is an outmoded and useless policy. We can
help you to avoid extreme measures by using the technology we have
aboard this craft.”
Haven looks at Marileva and then at you. “We are able to neutralize
without causing damage,” he says quietly.
“It would be the answer to our prayers to end this conflict without
killing,” you say. “But how do you ‘neutralize’ your enemies?”
 Before Haven can reply, Marileva interrupts.
“The Turtalian Congress has replied in the affirmative,” she announces,
switching off her communicator. “The preemptive strike should be launched
as soon as possible.”
“Leave it to me,” Haven replies.
He gives commands to his crew to guide the spacecraft to the Doradan
capital. “We will stop the threat without harming anyone. Then it is up to
you to change what is going on in Dorado. We could be a good team, you
Earthlings and we Crystal People. As I said before, we need your help, too.
We will talk about that later.”
“I have a feeling you’re right, Haven,” you agree.
“By the way,” he adds, “here are your top-secret files. We have no need
of them. I took them only so that I could lure you to me.”

The End

Back to Beginning
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “You’d better be for real, Haven. Denver will blow us both out of the sky
in a microsecond, if they suspect treachery.” You don’t feel secure about the
decision, but it seems the best way to get out of the mess you’re in.
Haven nods, and you enter his spacecraft. As the craft heads for Denver,
you give Haven the proper security codes. Seconds before you arrive, he
gives a command to his crew. The beam of azure light that earlier froze
your action incapacitates you once again.
Denver base reads Haven’s maneuvers as hostile. The Tactical Strike
Command fires a circular barrage. You, Haven, and the spacecraft merge
with the universe.

The End

Back to Beginning
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “I believe Turtalians share your interests,” you answer Jeremy. “The
Corporation is as dangerous to us as the Doradans are. Now that the two are
in league, we’re all worse off. Yes, we’ll give you direct help—personnel,
equipment, supplies. First, though, what about Matt and Mimla? Where are
they?”
Jeremy looks at you. He’s not a friendly type, you think.
“If you came from Turtalia, then you flew over the area where they had a
camp. They’re trying to trace a Doradan assault team. Big things could be
up. Doradans are all over the place. It looks like the buildup for an attack on
the Turtalian western border.”
“When did you last hear from them?” you demand.
“A week ago. Apparently they were attacked. They’re still out there, I
guess.”
“How far from here?” you ask.
“Eighty, maybe a hundred miles,” he responds. “It’s quicker to fly, but
there is also a road. We have some motorcycles. They’re old, but they’ll
do.”
If you decide to use the road to search for Matt and Mimla, click here

If you decide to fly to the camp, click here

 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “You’re asking for too much,” you say to Jeremy. “But I will offer to lead
a mission into Corporation territory to check out their strength, if you’ll
help me find Matt and Mimla.”
Jeremy reluctantly accepts. That evening you and three of the Rebels slip
across the bay by boat. Night makes San Francisco an eerie place. Here and
there pinpricks of light glow from candles or lanterns. Electricity is found
only in one small area at the top of Nob Hill.
Your scouting shows you that the Corporation forces are spread out and
few in number. Perhaps most of them are out in the hills with the Doradans.
Or perhaps the image of the fearsome Corporation is largely the result of a
big publicity campaign.
Hours later you and the Rebels return to the Hungry Pelican with your
report.
“I should have known,” says Jeremy. “Phonies, they’re all phonies. Well,
you lived up to your bargain. We’ll see what we can do about Matt and
Mimla. They’re out in the hills somewhere, that much we know. I’ll take
you there.”
Jeremy is true to his word. He leads you to a friendly camp where Matt
and Mimla are hiding out in the mountains east of the city. They’ve
obtained vital intelligence about a planned Doradan attack. Now the only
task left is to fly them home and warn Turtalia.

The End

Back to Beginning
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “I’ll fly,” you say. “Get me someone who knows the area.”
Jeremy nods, and returns to the restaurant counter. Moments later a
woman of about fifty enters the back room. She’s quite thin, but the lines
around her face make you think that she was fat at one time. These are hard
times, and food is scarce.
The woman stares at you. Her suspicion and hostility are obvious. You
sense that no one here feels anyone can be trusted.
“So, you want to know where those two are, is that it?” she asks rather
nastily.
“That’s right. Will you show me on this map?” you reply, pushing one of
your flight maps to her.
She takes it and scans it with intensity, her finger poised over the surface.
 “There,” the woman says. “That’s where they’re supposed to be. Cocky,
those two, that’s what they were! So sure of themselves. That’s a good way
to get killed. If you ask me, you’re wasting your time. They’ve been food
for the buzzards for days now, I’d say.” She turns and leaves.
The area she pointed to on the map is right where you spotted the
campfires. The problem remains—which camps are friendly?
Jeremy returns. “Got what you want, have you? Well, better leave then.
You attract too much attention. Don’t forget, Turtalia has promised us
help.”
You nod agreement and head back to your plane. There are more people
in the streets now. They move quickly and furtively.
“I’ll be glad to get out of here,” you say to yourself.
 Later that morning, you’re safely airborne and heading east when you
pick up a radio signal. You fiddle with your dial until the signal clears.
“Two licorice pizzas to go. Repeat, two licorice pizzas to go.”
Matt and Mimla’s code call!
You respond with a six-digit identifying number: “Zero, four, two, eight,
one, seven.”
“We read you. Pizza is ready for takeout,” comes the response, followed
by the coded coordinates of Mimla and Matt’s position.
You fly to their campsite. Now it’s a matter of landing safely, taking off
quickly, and avoiding Doradans on the trip home. Matt and Mimla fill you
in on the information they’ve collected.
“That’s good stuff,” you tell them. “I have no doubt it will help foil the
Doradan attack.”

The End

Back to Beginning
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “I’m sure the Turtalian Congress will appreciate your kind offer, Haven,”
you reply. “But time is of the essence, and I do have a ranger strike force
that can be utilized. Perhaps a strike at their main operations base will nip
this in the bud.”
“As you wish, Commander, but you Earthlings do seem to make things
confusing. Let’s hope you are right. I will watch. If you need help, call.”
Haven dematerializes.
“I hope he’s gone back inside his spacecraft,” you say to Marileva. “We’d
better get moving, too. Do you have any ideas on how to proceed?”
“Why don’t you and I slip into Dorado, head for the operations base, and
knock it out ourselves?” she suggests. “No fuss, no mess.”
You appraise the situation carefully. Two people in civilian clothes could
go virtually unnoticed; a larger strike force of uniformed rangers would not.
If you go into Dorado with Marileva, click here

If you decide to use the whole ranger strike force, click here
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “Well, a thing like this can’t be decided immediately,” you say to Haven.
“Let me talk with my people. I can’t take individual responsibility for this
type of decision. Who’d believe me, anyway?”
Haven shakes his head in what looks like resignation and despair.
“So few have faith. You are not trusting your instincts. Or perhaps you
are. You think this is all a Doradan hoax. I can see it in your face. Well,
maybe I am wrong. Perhaps Turtalia is not for us. You are stalling, and time
is precious for us now. I have wasted years on Earth already. We need help,
and we need it now. You do not believe me. You do not trust me!”
 Haven and the humanoid fling you from the crystal spaceship. You hit the
sandy ground with a grinding thud!
The ship disappears. Moments later you’re surrounded by your ranger
force. Your memory has begun to fade. You remember nothing about Haven
and the ship.
But your memory loss doesn’t stop there. Soon you don’t even remember
who you are, where you’re from, or who the people surrounding you are.
Within an hour you have lost the ability to speak. All sounds become
unintelligible, except for a wailing cry—and the cry is coming from you!
You now have the mind of a three-week-old infant. Haven has taken his
revenge.

The End

Back to Beginning
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “Force begets force,” you tell yourself, quoting one of the sayings of the
Turtalian Congress. “I’d better wait and see what happens.”
You fiddle some more with the communicator. You haven’t fooled
Haven. He takes the communicator from you and puts it in his pocket.
“I will not force you to contact your base, Commander, but it is a shame
that we cannot cooperate. There is much to be lost if we do not. I have a
plan. Perhaps it will prove to you the seriousness of my interest in working
with the Turtalian people.”
You nod your head, more out of habit than in agreement with what he’s
just said.
“My plan is this: I will tell the Doradan commander that I am taking you
back to Dorado for questioning. In reality, we will go to the Turtalian
capital, Denver. I cannot keep up this charade of being a Doradan agent any
longer. What do you say?”
You ponder this. To bring Haven and his spacecraft to Denver using the
special security codes could cause disaster to Turtalia if Haven turns out to
be a fraud. He could launch a devastating strike on Turtalia.
 If you decide to take Haven to Denver, click here

If you decide to take Haven on a flight away from both Dorado and
Denver, click here
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “Let’s take care of this ourselves, Marileva,” you say, agreeing to her
idea.
Eleven hours later, you and Marileva are trapped in front of Doradan
headquarters.
“We never had a chance,” you say to Marileva in the few seconds you
have left before the Doradans move in. “From the moment we stepped onto
Doradan soil, we were doomed to failure because of the simplest of
mistakes. When we changed into civilian clothes, we forgot to change our
shoes. Turtalian military-issue shoes leave a distinctive tread pattern that
even a child can spot.”
Marileva has no time to respond and the Doradans ask no questions. A
blast of automatic fire ends your promising careers.
 The End

Back to Beginning
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “Motorcycles sound fine to me,” you say to Jeremy. “Let’s get going.”
“Take it easy. We’ll get there,” responds a man who’s been standing in
the doorway watching. “It takes time to arrange things. Be cool, man, be
cool.”
Several cups of herb tea later, you hear the sound of motorcycle engines.
Three old Harley-Davidson bikes appear. Their riders are dressed in the
leather jackets of the Heaven’s Fools, a motorcycle club. The men are
bearded and tough-looking.
One of the bikes has a sidecar, a little one-wheeled passenger seat,
attached. You hope it’s not for you, but a biker points at it and says, “Hop
in.”
You comply. He hands you a pair of goggles and a helmet.
“Let’s split!” another biker says.
 As you bounce along, you’re sorry you chose the motorcycles over the
plane. The highways and roads haven’t been cared for in years, and they’re a
mass of potholes and weeds.
The bikers seem oblivious to it all. They merrily roar on at high speed,
rocketing over the bumps and vegetation.
“How far did you say it was?” you yell at your driver. He doesn’t answer.
“How far?” you yell again.
He just grins and accelerates. The old Harley belches smoke and keeps
roaring.
 Three hours later you cross a high pass and begin to descend into a long
valley of rolling, forested hills.
You wonder why you haven’t been stopped by hostile Corporation or
Doradan patrols. Then again, everything about this area is disorganized.
The goggles the bikers gave you are covered with dirt, and you have to
keep wiping them in order to see. The exhaust fumes make you sick to your
stomach.
“How much farther?” you ask again.
The driver points ahead.
“There,” he says.
Sure enough, over the next hill you come to an armed Rebel camp. The
Rebels welcome the bikers, who have brought messages from people in
Berkeley along with a few needed supplies.
But Mimla and Matt are not there.
“Where are they?” you demand.
“They’re up at the other camp with a man named Sellers,” one of the men
answers.
 “You might as well give up your friends for dead,” says another Rebel.
“Sellers pushes the limits all the time.”
“Can I get to this other camp?” you ask.
“Sure,” the Rebel answers. “In fact, we’ll take you part of the way. You
can join the patrol that’s heading out shortly.”
You’re escorted by a party of four armed people, three women and one
man, to a spot where you can see a range of rolling hills beyond an
immense stretch of land.
“Sellers is out there,” they say, pointing to the hills. “You’re on your own
now. Good luck.”
Two days later, you’re stopped by a Rebel guard. He leads you to the
man named Sellers inside the camp, which is under heavy attack by
Doradans and Corporation troops.
You explain who you are, then demand of Sellers, “So where are they?”
“Where are who?”
“Matt and Mimla,” you say impatiently.
Sellers shrugs.
“I was told they were here.”
“You were told wrong. And I suggest you get out of here. The fighting’s
heavy. You’d be better off on your own.”
You think about that for a moment. At last you make a decision.
 “I’m staying, Sellers,” you say. “I’m determined to do what I came to do.
Anyway, you need all the help you can get.”
“Fine. But remember, it’s your neck,” he replies.
The fighting is intense. You’re too busy defending your life to search for
Matt and Mimla. There seems little hope of getting out alive. You think
about your life in Turtalia and what the freedom of choice has meant for
your people. The firing eases at times, and hope renews at these moments.
“I can’t see who we’re fighting,” you say to Sellers.
“It’s always like that,” he replies. “Ambushes, hit and run. Actually, we
use the same tactics. All the same, it just means killing people.”
Soon the firing begins again. It seems impossible that anyone will
survive the awful violence.
Suddenly you’re out of ammunition!
 “Sellers, I’m out,” you say. “Have you got any more clips?”
“Nope. That’s it, I’m afraid. I ran out minutes ago myself.”
Soon all of the Rebels are out of ammunition. The attackers sense what
has happened, but they’re cautious. They hold their positions, suspecting
the Rebels might be bluffing.
Finally, they contact you through a loudspeaker.
“Throw down your arms! There is no alternative. I repeat, stand up and
throw down your weapons!”
Sellers nods and shrugs his shoulders. “Let’s see what happens.”
 A squad of Doradan troops moves forward cautiously. You, Sellers, and
the others who are still alive lay down your weapons.
“You will come with us,” the Doradan officer in charge says. “We’ll find
out what you know and who you are.”
You wonder if Matt and Mimla met a similar fate. Maybe they’re still
alive, and are prisoners of this same group of Doradans. You may even join
them soon. Then it will be up to you to plan an escape.

The End

Back to Beginning
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 You are pleased to see that your ranger strike force is eager and ready to
go. The effects of the tear gas have completely worn off. Equipment is
checked and rechecked, and additional helicopters are called in.
It takes two hours to round up the helicopters necessary for the mission.
In the meantime, you send out search teams to look for any members of the
Doradan strike force who may still be in the area. None are found.
The tense, grim rangers talk little as they’re airlifted deep within Doradan
airspace. You’re surprised that there are no Doradan air patrols. The
Doradans are busy arranging their attack on Turtalia, and their transports
and aircraft are tied up in those preparations.
On schedule, according to synchronized watches, your helicopter
squadron drops out of the sky in the Doradan capital and lands near the
operations building. You leap out the open helicopter door and with the
others, dash for the main door. Bullets pierce the air.
 “Watch it, Marileva,” you yell as two Doradan guards drop to their knees,
firing their weapons on full automatic. Just then a member of your ranger
force hurls a smoke grenade. Two others overpower the guards. You,
Marileva, and three rangers rush into the building.
You know the layout of the Doradan operations building very well. When
you were captured during the Doradan Wars several years ago, you were
often brought here for interrogation.
“Second floor, third door, Marileva,” you yell. “Watch out!”
You kick the door open with one massive swing of your foot.
 “Hands up! Don’t move!” you command.
The three most important Doradans are here: the leaders of the Doradan
army, air force, and intelligence services.
“This way! Move fast!” you order. The commander of the army lunges
for his weapon, but Marileva stops him with a downward smash to his
forearm.
You hurry your prisoners back through the corridor, down the stairs, and
out into the street. Your ranger force has managed to hold off Doradan
reinforcements, but their losses have been heavy. One of the helicopters has
been destroyed.
You, Marileva, and your prisoners, along with several rangers, board one
of the remaining ’copters. Moments later, you’re on your way out of
Dorado.
A squad of Turtalian planes meets you and escorts you triumphantly
home with what you hope is the biggest catch ever—the three fascist chiefs.
“Good work,” Marileva says, putting her hand on your shoulder.
“Perhaps real peace is now possible.”

The End

Back to Beginning
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “The controls are useless,” you shout, although there’s no one to hear
you.
You have no time to waste. You’re only fifteen hundred feet above the
ground, and the helicopter is losing altitude quickly. You wrestle with the
seat belt release. Finally it clicks open, and you push your way through the
Plexiglas door. The slip-stream buffets you against the side of the
helicopter. The salty taste of blood fills your mouth, the result of a nasty
gash you get when you bump your head leaving the cabin.
Whop! Your parachute snaps open and stops your tumbling fall through
the murky, gas-laden cloud. You slump in the harness, legs swinging to and
fro like a puppet on a string.
Moments later you’re in clear air, not more than two hundred feet above
the ground. Your head clears, too, and you prepare to land. There’s no one
around!
Where are my people? you wonder. Captain Ricardo and the rangers
should be there.
 You bend your knees as you hit the ground. The shock is far less than
you’d expected.
“These new para-foil chutes are great,” you announce, even though no
one’s around to hear your praise of the new technology.
You key your miniature communicator, standard equipment for all
Turtalian forces. You hope it works.
“Red Leader to Ranger Three. Come in,” you say, hoping desperately for
a reply. “Red Leader. Repeat, Red Leader. Where are you, Ranger Three?”
You look around for some sign of people on the deserted prairie. All
communication is dead, just as it was in the helicopter. Not a soul is in
sight.
A whining sound interrupts your concentration. Looking up, you see an
enormous silvery shape coming your way. It blocks the sun. You’re in the
shadow of a craft unknown to you. There’s no place to hide.
 A beam of sky-blue light reaches down from the underside of the craft
and bathes you in its warm energy. You try to move, to step out of the beam.
But your feet are locked in position! You try to raise your arm, but it
remains at your side. Your breathing slows, and your pulse rate falls until
your heart is beating so slowly that you can feel each pulse in its full
rhythmic movement.
In rapid stages Haven materializes beside you: first his head and
shoulders, then his whole body. Slowly, facial details and coloration are
added. The apparition reaches out and touches you—and the touch releases
you from the frozen state you’ve been in.
 Haven speaks. “I am certain you did not expect this, did you? I have
more power than you imagined.” His tone is slow and even. There’s no
harshness in his voice.
You nod your head. He continues.
“I have never been a Doradan, you know. Actually, I am not human. You
can tell by my craft here. I am of a society called the Crystal People. The
people of my world need the help of the people of your world. I could not
be sure whether the Doradans or you Turtalians should be the ones to help. I
have now decided in favor of the people of Turtalia. Will you come aboard
my craft and find out what we need? We are friendly.”
“What happens if I refuse?” you reply.
“Nothing at all. You are free to go.”
“What about my pilot? If you’re so friendly, why did you kill him?” you
ask.
“It was not us who killed your pilot. Are you sure your own people are
reliable?” Haven replies.
At that moment you catch sight of three figures moving toward you in the
distance. They’re members of the Turtalian ranger force.
 If you decide to trust Haven for the time being, click here

If you decide to make a dash for freedom and join your own people, click
here
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “I’m not really empowered by my government to commit us to armed
involvement here,” you reply. “I’ll see what I can do, though.”
Jeremy slams his hand down on a wooden table top.
“No guts. We’re fighting for our lives, and you talk like a lawyer. We
don’t need you or your kind. Beat it, and good riddance.” He turns and
leaves.
What next? you think.
“Hey, wait a minute,” you call after him. “Don’t be so hasty. Let’s talk.
Maybe we can work something out.”
You hope Jeremy will be reasonable. He turns, comes back, and looks
you in the eyes.
“That’s what your friends Matt and Mimla said. And what did we get?
Nothing but trouble. You want to prove to us that you and Turtalia will
help? Then go to the Corporation and negotiate a truce. That is, if you have
the guts.”
 If you decide to give it a try and negotiate for a truce with the
Corporation, click here

If you offer instead to lead a reconnaissance mission to survey

Corporation territory, click here
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “I’ll handle Mimla and Matt,” you say to the red-faced lieutenant. “Get
Captain Von Moschicker over here right away. She’ll take care of Haven
and the files. He’s a fool to think he can escape.”
“Yes, Commander,” the lieutenant replies. She and the other officer exit
your office.
Moments later, Captain Von Moschicker snaps you a smart salute. She
stands at attention waiting for your instructions. You tell her about Haven’s
escape and the missing files.
“Captain, take any personnel you need,” you order, “but get Haven and
those files. I have faith in you. Remember, time is of the essence. Go to it,
and good luck.”
“Yes, Commander. We’ll do our best.”
“It will have to be more than your best. You must recover the files,” you
reply.
As the captain leaves, your lieutenant enters.
“Have we got a fix yet on where that message from Matt and Mimla
came from?” you demand.
“Yes, Commander. One hundred miles east of San Francisco. The
transmission was cut off before they completed the message, as you
suspected.”
“Okay. Get the new motor-glider ready. I’m going after them.”
“By yourself, Commander?”
 “Yes, by myself,” you answer. “I know the President and the Peace
Coordinator have ordered me to give up solo missions, but this is different.
It’s the kind of mission I can do better on my own. The information our
agents have uncovered may be vital. The President can reprimand me when I
get back.”
“If you get back,” the lieutenant replies.
“Enough of that kind of talk. I’d better get going.”
You feel a tug of fear as you leave the security of your office in
Operations Center and head for the airfield. It’s been a long time since
you’ve undertaken a solo mission.
At the airfield, you pick up the survival kit prepared for just such
occasions. As you stow the kit bag in the sleek, new three-person motor-
glider, you feel a thrill of excitement. It’s good to be back in action, you
think.
Fifteen minutes later, you clear ground control and climb into the blue
Turtalian skies. The plane responds well to the controls, and you gain
altitude rapidly. Soon you’re heading for the northern part of what used to be
California. Your airspeed is one hundred and twenty knots. The wind is from
the northwest at ten to fifteen miles per hour. You calculate an ETA at eight
hours from now.
 By flying west, you’re chasing the retreating sun. Even so, you lose.
Night envelops you and the land. Only on the distant horizon is there an
aura of yellow and crimson. Then that too is gone, and clouds play games
with the stars. Below you stretch miles of darkened land. Occasionally,
flickering lights appear, probably fires at campsites. You’re not sure
whether the fires are from Rebel bases, Doradan army outposts, or camps of
hunters or sheepherders.
Finally you’re over the area where Matt and Mimla’s last message was
broadcast from. To the west you see the blinking lights of yet another
campsite. Beyond is San Francisco. An underground network was
established several years before in what remains of the city. Maybe
someone from the underground can help in your search for Matt and Mimla.
 If you think an investigation of the campfires below will lead you to your
agents, click here

If you decide to try to contact the underground in San Francisco, click

here
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 Someone coughs, and most of the faces turn toward that person. “Here I
go,” you say to yourself as you back out the door, waving a weak goodbye
to those at the counter still looking in your direction.
Whew! That smelled like trouble, you think.
Before you have a chance to get more than five steps away from the
Hungry Pelican, a squad of thugs surrounds you.
“Looks like a spy to me—a perfect hostage,” says the leader of the squad.
“Take him away!”
Nylon rope is bound around your wrists, a gag is thrust in your mouth,
and you’re dragged away. No one comes to your aid. It’s life as usual in this
part of the country. True anarchy reigns. What’s worse, it’s said that most
hostages out here don’t live to tell their tale!

The End

Back to Beginning
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 The security clearance codes and the coordinates you provide Haven lead
you on a flight that ends over California.
Haven is not stupid and says, “Well, Commander, two can play this
game.”
The spacecraft leaps to hyperspace speed. You’re rushed to the outer rim
of the Wall of Stars, where you’re interrogated by the Crystal People and
used as a bargaining chip—a hostage—as they try to get what they need
from Turtalia.
Good luck! Turtalia has a policy never to negotiate for hostages. You’ve
always agreed with the policy. Now you aren’t so sure.

The End

Back to Beginning
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “Okay. I get your message,” you say. “I’ll see what I can do about
negotiating a truce with the Corporation; you see what you can find out
about Matt and Mimla. Deal?”
Jeremy grabs your hand and pumps it vigorously.
“Now, that’s talking,” he says.
You two spend the rest of the day planning your approach to the
Corporation. Corporation headquarters is in an old hotel on top of Nob Hill.
 The next morning you leave on a mission that fills you with fear. You
travel from Berkeley to San Francisco by boat. The weather is foggy and
damp. The trip across the bay is long and unpleasant. You’re careful to
avoid Corporation patrols.
Walking through San Francisco is like moving through a nightmare. The
skyscrapers are silent, many of them burned out. Windows are smashed.
Rusting cars line the roads. Some of them have been burned, too.
You barely escape getting caught by a patrol. But at last you make it up
the long hill to the old hotel. It’s a relic of the past—beautiful, elegant, and
well-maintained in the midst of the destruction.
Fear paralyzes you as you walk up to the elaborately decorated front
door.
“What do you want?” yells a voice.
 You talk fast, explaining that you’re a Turtalian emissary who is also
representing the Rebels.
The guard grunts and leads you into the hotel and across the lobby to the
elevators. He gets on with you and punches the button for the twenty-first
floor. When the doors slide open, he shoves you ahead of him into a suite of
rooms.
There you see a man in his thirties with a beard and long hair, weaning
dark glasses, a Hawaiian shirt, an earring, and silver bracelets. He grins at
you and speaks.
“Come on in. Sit down. Want something to drink? No? Well, as you
wish.”
 Behind the man are four armed guards. They watch your every move.
You begin discussions with this man, whose name is Sam Osprey. He’s
the head of the Corporation. After much talk and bargaining, you succeed in
striking a deal! It turns out that all you had to do was offer him more
financial help than the Doradans had offered.
“It’s a cash and carry business,” he says, smiling.
Part of your deal is that a truce with the Rebels be declared. The other
part is that Osprey help in stopping the Doradans and their plans to invade
Turtalia.
You’re not sure how trustworthy Sam Osprey is, but this is the best you
can do. It’s a good start. Now, if you can find Matt and Mimla, Turtalia’s
future will look much brighter.

The End

Back to Beginning
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “I can’t waste any more time,” you say to yourself.
Keeping in the shadow of trees, you continue walking, hoping to escape
the notice of the plane.
You wander through the Sierras for two days. At dawn of the second day,
you’re stopped by a Rebel patrol. They bring you into headquarters, a ski
patrol shack in Squaw Valley. There you explain your mission and describe
the attack on Sellers and his Rebels.
Then you get the bad news. “Your agents Matt and Mimla have been
captured by Doradans,” the Rebel commander tells you. “They’re probably
dead. You must stay with us. We’re as vulnerable as Sellers and his Rebels.
We’re preparing for an attack. I’m sure you can help.”
The loss of your agents saddens you deeply. You must inform Operations
Center as soon as possible. For now, you know you must do as the
commander says: stay with the Rebels and lend your talents to their effort to
stop the Doradans. It will be the first of many battles to save Turtalia.

The End

Back to Beginning
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 “It’s now or never,” you say. “Waiting here is just asking for it.”
You, Matt, and Mimla head out toward the field where the Rebels have
hidden your plane.
Just as you approach the field, a barrage of mortar and small-arms fire
destroys the plane—and with it the hope for escape. Soon you will either be
prisoners or dead. Time is all you have left, and you don’t have much of
that.

The End

Back to Beginning
 Ooops, you didn’t make a choice.
Click Previous Page to go back and select one of the choices in the
story.
If you continue from here without making a choice, you will be lost.
 The annoying buzzing sound gets closer and closer. The plane comes into
view above the pine trees. It’s an ultralight, a relic of the 1980s, when
people flew the ridiculous planes for sport. Its main advantage today is that
not much fuel is needed to operate it. Fuel is precious, particularly in the
untamed lands of the west, which have been ravaged by fighting for years.
The ultralight zooms back and forth like a dragonfly. “What is it looking
for?” you ask yourself aloud.
You realize that it’s probably looking for you. But is it friend or foe?
Maybe Sellers got a message out to other Rebels. Maybe they’re trying to
help. Maybe it’s even Matt and Mimla, safe and searching for you!
Just as you decide to signal the plane, it turns. The sound of the engine
recedes and then is gone. You stare at the sky for a long moment, then
return to the task at hand: getting out of this wilderness, finding Matt and
Mimla, and getting back to Turtalia.
Without your plane it’s a tall order—almost impossible—but you decide
not to think that way. Only relentless determination can conquer the
impossible, you tell yourself as you trudge day after weary day.
On you go.

The End

Back to Beginning
 Watch for these titles coming up in the Choose Your Own Adventure®
series.
Ask your bookseller for books you have missed or visit us at cyoa.com to
learn more.

1. THE ABOMINABLE SNOWMAN by R. A. Montgomery

2. JOURNEY UNDER THE SEA by R. A. Montgomery
3. SPACE AND BEYOND by R. A. Montgomery
4. THE LOST JEWELS OF NABOOTI by R. A. Montgomery
5. MYSTERY OF THE MAYA by R. A. Montgomery
6. HOUSE OF DANGER by R. A. Montgomery
7. RACE FOREVER by R. A. Montgomery
8. ESPACE by R. A. Montgomery
9. LOST ON THE AMAZON by R. A. Montgomery
10. PRISONER OF THE ANT PEOPLE by R. A. Montgomery
11. TROUBLE ON PLANET EARTH by R. A. Montgomery
12. WAR WITH THE EVIL POWER MASTER by R. A. Montgomery
13. CUP OF DEATH by Shannon Gilligan
14. THE CASE OF THE SILK KING by Shannon Gilligan
15. BEYOND ESCAPE! by R. A. Montgomery
16. SECRET OF THE NINJA by Jay Leibold
17. THE BRILLANT DR. WOGAN by R. A. Montgomery
18. RETURN TO ATLANTIS by R. A. Montgomery
19. FORECAST FROM STONEHENGE by R. A. Montgomery
20. INCA GOLD by Jim Becket
21. STRUGGLE DOWN UNDER by Shannon Gilligan
22. TATTOO OF DEATH by R. A. Montgomery
23. SILVER WINGS by R. A. Montgomery
24. TERROR ON THE TITANIC by Jim Wallace
25. SEARCH FOR THE MOUNTAIN GORILLAS by Jim Wallace
26. MOON QUEST by Anson Montgomery
27. PROJECT UFO by R. A. Montgomery
28. ISLAND OF TIME by R. A. Montgomery
29. SMOKE JUMPERS by R. A. Montgomery
30. CHINESE DRAGONS by R. A. Montgomery
31. TRACK STAR by R. A. Montgomery
32. U.N. ADVENTURE: MISSION TO MOLOWA by Ramsey
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