Chief Petty Officer Roman Crandall was in the shit…..and he knew it.

 

 Leading a small, surgical strike against a particularly stubborn cell of El Qaeda had seemed a straightforward goal. Army intelligence, and yes that IS an oxymoron in this case, had supplied the intel and, while sketchy, it had appeared sound at first glance. An Al Qaeda group was supposed to be holed up in a cave system in the hills just outside of Towraghondi on the Iran border. Staging would start in Kabul, a quick flight into Herat and then a transport into About 5 kilometers from the objective, start hiking in. Simple, right?  His first clue that this was gonna go straight to FUBAR was when he was saddled with the green electronics specialist, Jim DeSalvo. Jim was a likeable guy but not exactly battle hardened. He rubbed Crandall’s nerves raw instantly. Constantly fidgeting with all the gadgetry he carried, he reminded Roman of a girl at her first prom making sure her boobs stayed in her strapless gown.

  Next up was the intel briefing from a puke named Captain Mark crump. Crump was a good military man, twenty years ago. Now doughy, about 40 pounds overweight and none too concerned about appearances, the only “military” thing about him now was his short hair. He sported a perfect high and tight. Wire frame glasses too small for his face kept sliding down his nose as he began. “Satcom has a flurry of activity in this vicinity.” He pointed to an enlarged false color map. ”We don’t have a lot of hard data, but groups keep escorting primaries here. At this point even the infrared imaging is blind. The primaries just, well, disappear. As you can see the whole hill is awash in every spectrum. We believe they are using an experimental electronics array to block all surveillance and need some eyes on the ground to confirm.” Confident he could fill in the gaps from his own contacts and past experience, he shrugged off the lack of hard info and began planning the strike. A team of five men were assigned to him, not counting DeSalvo, and he didn’t, all experienced men familiar with the area.

  Second in command would be Seaman third Carl “Mookie” Sigler, no stranger to the desert or combat. Decorated twice for heroism and noted for his affinity to carrying dog treats. No one is ever really sure why, but the rumor is he became fond of them when caught in a situation where that was his only sustenance for a week or so. Seaman second Vanessa Mothe, a woman of Columbian ancestry was their field medic, navigator and morale officer. How she kept morale up was a matter for discussion some other day, but one look at her and it came as no surprise. Her mocha latte skin, plump crimson lips and curvaceous hips left most men breathless. Rounding out the team were seamen first Pip Morris, don’t call him Philip, Nate Lafferty and ordinance expert Brian Akers, BA for short. Throw in Jim DeSalvo on field tech and communications and he had a sound squad.

  Crandall took over mission briefing and mapped out his strategy for surveying the Cliffside. Not needing much thought, the face of the rock was in a box canyon, one way in, one way out, it took little time. Most of the details involved timing, they would plan for early am, before sunrise, survey the spot and get out before most of the country woke up for morning prayers. A seasoned warrior and realist, Roman knew things never went quite as planned and built in some backup strategies. He learned a long time ago, having just one option gave you only the option for failure. Crandall hated to fail.

  The staging went as planned and insertion completed quickly. There was a slight hitch in the timing of their transport that put the mission a few minutes behind and Mookie needed a resupply on dog treats, but overall the planning stage came into reality smoothly. Right up to the point where they got to where the cave was….or was supposed to be. Checking the GPS settings against the mission briefing, Crandall hung his head and swore softly. No caves, just rock, lots of rock. The intel had been bad. Against his better judgment, which was to contact the extraction team and GTFO, he called deSalvo over.

  “Ok, Jim, time to earn your keep. Start messing with your toys, man, and see if we can locate this target. We did not come out here to collect rocks.”

“Aye, sir” came the reply.

“The rest of you, in a circle, ten meters out, eyes open, weapons hot. Let’s give the man a work space.”

Taking his point in the circle, he shook his head at the blank wall where the cave should have been and settled in to wait.

  To his shock, DeSalvo had an answer for him in mere moments.

“Chief, this is strange. According to everything I am seeing, the cave is right there.” the young man pointed straight at the blank wall. “I can’t be sure, but I think it may be a hologram or some sort of screen.”

  Narrowing his eyes in disbelief, he began a retort and was cut short by the rest of his team rushing back quickly and quietly.  “Motion at our six, Chief.” Mookie reported.

  Instantly in battle mode, Crandall used hand signals to position the men strategically, hidden among the scattered boulders. Splitting to either side of the direct path to the cave they waited. The same box of a canyon that had them penned in made a perfect spot for ambush. Silently, the moments ticked by and a group of nine men emerged. Eight men with AK-47’s surrounded one man, bound and blindfolded. Stripped to his waist, the prisoner was pushed along the rock strewn path. Stopping in a semi-circle around the hostage, the armed men watched muzzles pointed at him, as the prisoner strode haltingly and blindly toward the base of the cliff. As he approached, the air became palpably thicker with something akin to static electricity, but thicker somehow. Like honey mixed with voltage.  Time seemed to slow to quarter speed as the next minute played out. Staggering at the seemingly solid wall, the bound man’s leg disappeared up to his knee, merging with the very rock. A flash of what seemed like lightning and a crack of thunder surrounded the man who arched his back in obvious, yet silent pain. When Roman’s eyes cleared, the prisoner was gone, the rock wall was solid and the armed locals had turned their guns on them. Someone in their team had cried out at the spectacle. He figured he knew who, but had no time for that now.

 

  Chief Petty Officer Roman Crandall was in the shit….and he knew it.

 

  Military instinct and training kicked in and he barked orders to his team even as he dived behind a boulder dragging DeSalvo with him. Turning and pulling his own weapon to bear in a smooth motion, he joined the firefight. The nine armed locals didn’t stand a real chance, out in the open as they were, but had the advantage of drawing down first. Two of his men were hit and down before his team had fired. After that, it was over quickly and efficiently. To DeSalvo’s credit, he got the first kill. His sidearm flashed twice and one man went down, dust and blood flaring from his chest in a fine misty cloud. Also to his credit, he didn’t freeze immediately afterward like many greenies notching their first human life. Maybe the kid had promise after all. Short controlled bursts came from the M-4 Carbines the rest of the team carried, each set of three tap tap taps taking down another threat. Blood and bone spraying as bodies were torn apart by the Remington .223 ammunition, the scene went quiet in just under three minutes. Immediately, Crandall ordered DeSalvo to call for extraction, rounded the boulder he was shielded by and ran to check on his downed men. Two were hit, one a flesh wound in the arm, already being dressed, BA would still be able to throw his grenades, and the other a chest shot. Finding Vanessa on the dirt, a three inch shred of cotton and detritus in the center of her chest caused a moment of concern. Then Mothe’s eyes fluttered as she came back into the sunshine, and Crandall let out the breath he had not known he was holding.  Her body armor had stopped the round headed for her heart. She was going to have a terrible bruise but figured there would be plenty of volunteers to help nurse it.

  “You do know you’re never going to live down the fact those double D’s stopped a bullet, right?”

Smiling, she responded “Tits of steel, Chief, just call me Valkyrie!”

  Roman chuckled as he helped her to her feet.” Shake it off, sailor.”

  Knowing their gunplay was bound to draw attention, he gathered his team quickly.” Any response from extract,JD?” The response was a silent shake of the head. One hand on his weapon the other on his hip, Crandall surveyed the area. “We need cover fast then. How about the cave? ”

  That comment got him quick, concerned looks from his team. “Chief, the energy signature from that place is odd. It looks like a hologram, just a picture, but we all saw what happened to that man. Nothing on my instruments changed when he disappeared and the video shows nothing other than what we saw on any spectrum. Just there, then gone.”

  Nodding, he considered “Ok, we are in a box, gentlemen. One way in, one way out. We can safely assume there are more unfriendlies back the way we came and we need options, fast!” Each team member took their place in the semi-circle around him. Half pointed toward their leader half out, keeping watch.

  As he spoke he moved toward the cliff face at an angle. Edging close to the rock face, following the line of the rock he found an anomaly. “Sigler, take a look at this will you?”

Pointing at the spot where the cave was hit by some random fire from the downed gunmen, the two men saw a “shimmer” of sorts when viewed hard from the side. Behind that, what seemed open space loomed.  Some of the stray bullets had loosened centuries settled rock and caused it to slide inward. They had found the cave.  Putting a hand on Sigler’s shoulder, Crandall smiled “gather the team, we have shelter.”

 

  Managing the tight squeeze through the gap between the shimmer and the cave opening was tricky. The team slowly inched into the cave, Chief at point, pressed tight against the cave mouth. One by one they slithered into a gap made by the fairly recent rock fall to the inside of the cave. Sweat beaded and rolled into eyes as the progress was slow, broken by a low chuckle as Mothe had to suck in her breath to keep her chest from touching the shimmer. Chuckles turned to gasps as a moment of carelessness almost turned tragic. Akers chose the moment he was closest to the shimmer to sneeze. The fine particles of snot and saliva wafted at the energy wall where they were sizzled into non-existence by a brief electrical discharge. Everyone stopped for a moment before creeping forward again at a doubly cautious pace. Finally, they were inside the cave and surprised to find that what looked like a solid rock face from the front, looked like a wall made from the shimmer of heat from blacktop on a hot summer day. Fanning out around Crandall each team member was both relaxed and ready as they guarded their particular spot in the cave.

  The cave was roughly circular, a bit deeper than long. The rock was not exactly smooth but there were no real sharp angles to it. As if a big burring ball had taken a natural shape and made it just that much more uniform. The sun was high now and light came filtered in through the false front of the cave illuminating about a third. The rest remained dark and silent. DeSalvo took out a small square instrument with an antenna about a foot long and started waving it toward the dark half of the cave. A low whine came from it when pointed toward the darkest part that was abruptly cut off as Lowell put his hand over it and pointed out the cave. Movement caught the squad’s eyes and they were instantly at battle ready.

    A large man, heavily armed began barking orders pointing to different spots around the clearing as the sailors readied for a firefight. Cocking his head, Crandall held up his hand in a “hold your fire” gesture. The locals searched the bodies of their comrades for clues to what had happened. The unfriendly leader walked slowly toward the cave opening causing fingers to tighten on triggers. The tension broke suddenly as one of the subordinate unfriendlies, looking wild-eyed and panicked, grabbed the gruff-looking leader and spoke into his ear. With a start, the man gazed back at the cave, waited a moment, and then waved his men back. What few things scavenged from the downed men was enough it seemed. Glancing a few times over his shoulder toward the cave mouth the Al Qaeda leader had a look that was unmistakable. Fear.

  At that very moment a chill crept up the Chief’s neck like a cold snake slithering.

 

 

“Chief,” DeSalvo whispered “there’s something back here.” He had gone back to waving his antenna around again as soon as possible. Roman would never understand how some people had that burning need to play with gadgets. The entire team looked first at the chief, then at the seaman, then the back of the cave, deep in shadow. Rubbing the back of his neck, Crandall sighed at that feeling he didn’t seem to be able to shake, like waiting for the other shoe. He motioned for the team to split and move to the edges of the cave. DeSalvo in his wake, the Chief took the direct path to the back, right down the middle.

 

  As he strode the short distance slowly, Crandall thought about his career, his wait during the boards and induction into the goat locker. How these were crowning achievements for him, special.  Not unlike the birth of his daughter and later his son, just maybe a degree or two behind. A multitude of thoughts and desires flew through his head as he paced closer to the back wall of the cave and the brass colored object he discovered there half buried in rock. An ovoid shape, about two and a half meters tall, it had a slightly dimpled or rippling appearance to the surface. The swirls and patterns etched into its surface seemed to shift and gather in the light as he moved. Roman seemed to see it more clearly as he stepped nearer seeing what looked like patterns for a moment to be replaced by confusing lines the next. The light hadn’t changed, had his eyes adjusted to the gloom at the back? It was like everything was coming into focus.

  Crandall never saw the bright flash of lightning that encased him, nor heard the thunderclap that deafened his squad temporarily. One moment he was a US Navy Chief Petty Officer, the next, something different. He was something more and less at the same time. With every fiber of his will, Crandall fought against the dark tide that was threatening to engulf him and take everything that made him him until, with a palpable snap, he saw himself. A silhouette on a barren plane, where all he saw from horizon to horizon was unending white light and his own naked form. It made him think somehow of the cave, not quite finished and waiting to be filled. From one horizon he saw a black dot come toward him impossibly fast and recognized the shape as the ovoid from the cave. It stopped mere paces from him and regarded him. Crandall knew it was alive in some way and watching him. He stared back.

  “You are the first. We will be one and the universe shall know us.” It communicated to him.  A flood of images poured from the shape into Roman. They merged with his own memories and feelings seamlessly, if not painlessly.  Images of terrible creatures like giant centipedes and others resembling octopi on land. Demons and angels, a Cyclops and harpies flashed through his mind. The past and future merging into his awareness he had one overwhelming thought as the tide finally covered him, taking him into blissful blackness…..

  I am Chief Petty Officer Roman Crandall, I am in the shit…….and I know it.

 

 

 Ok, second draft. Let the ripping and tearing begin, lol

Don't have time right this minute (at work) but will read and rip and tear this evening.  At cursory glance, looks awseome!

 Chapter TWO

 Jim DeSalvo was two steps behind Chief Petty Officer Roman Crandall. The instrument in his hand, an EMP multimeter, showed steady, no fluctuations. Then, Jim couldn’t move. No, that wasn’t completely correct, his eyes could move. Every other muscle in his body seemed rigid. The phenomena was not limited to him either. The entire squad was locked into place. He could see Mookie mid chew of one of those disgusting cookies he ate. Morris was coming up from a crouch and stuck halfway. Lafferty had his face contorted in an odd gesture as he tried to scratch his nose. A perverse corner of DeSalvo’s mind recalled that mother’s curse about making faces and how they would stick that way. The rest of the team was out of his immediate sight, but he saw the Chief well enough. He would wish forever that he hadn’t. A soft orange glow that seemed more dark than light was emanating from the object at the back of the cave. It slowly grew toward their leader and engulfed him as he kept his pace toward it as if he didn’t even see it. As the light became a cocoon around the Chief, the Chief started to become transparent. DeSalvo could only watch in horror as layer by layer, the man’s insides were shown to him. The heavy musculature beneath the skin, blood vessels and nerves, then bone. Not in a coherent pattern, but blotchy and sporadic like he was being eaten by some exotic aggressive virus. Then came the ball of lightning surrounding the man’s form with living electricity, a bright flash, physical sound, then, nothing.

   The squad came to all around the same time. As field medic, Vanessa Mothe’s training took hold and she began to triage the men. Mookie was fine, small cut on the forehead, possible sprained wrist and terminal dog breath from those treats. Pip was dazed but upright and already moving toward the cave entrance to cover their backs. Nate was slower to wake but had a crooked smile as she leaned over him, chest in a VERY close proximity to his face. DeSalvo was leaning against the cave wall puking. Possible concussion, possible nerves, he would get first attention. The Chief was……and she stopped. The Chief was gone. He wasn’t there at all. Making her way to DeSalvo, she scanned the small interior of the cave to no avail. Nothing was left of the chief. Fearing what had befallen the captive earlier had happened to the Chief, Vanessa’s heart sank as she continued performing her duties, checking the tech over for head injuries and other outward signs of duress and finding none. “I saw him. He just….unravelled.” the man croaked incoherently.

   Mothe gathered her gear and headed toward the back of the cave and the object she held responsible for the Chief’s demise. Her P-4 at the ready, cocked and finger tightening on the trigger. She was going to take a small vengeance on that metal whatever it was before they left this Godforsaken area. The only problem was, the object wasn’t there any more. All that was left of it was a depression in the rock face. A vaguely ovoid depression with another shape superimposed. The shape of a man.

  Mookie’s voice came hard as steel, urgent and quiet in her ear then “Mothe! We gotta get moving, that Hologrammy thing is starting to fall apart, we will be sitting ducks, now move!”

  Move she did, helping the half-dazed men around her toward the cave entrance. Even DeSalvo had come to some semblance of awareness and was working with the field radio. “Base. This is Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. I repeat, Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. Come in.”  The radio squelched once then he began again. Base this is…”

  “Whiskey Tango, this is base, what is your status?” the radio interrupted. DeSalvo looked to Mookie who made a whirling motion with his finger and the two palm slashes.

  “Base, we are pinned in insertion locale, need extraction. Know unfriendlies are in vicinity.”

  “Message received. Tomahawks one and two inbound.” No sooner had the message come over the radio the men heard the distinct sound of Apache rotors flying over their heads. Using hand signals, squad leader Mookie Sigler lead his team out of the cave and back into the sunlight. One glance back was all he could spare for the missing Chief before his immediate reality took all his attention.

 

  Roman Crandall’s awareness surfaced as if from a lake of thick, black oil. Breaking the surface and flooding his mind with light, sound and memories. The awareness, and that’s what he was thinking of the ovoid as, that had communicated with him earlier was not immediately present. At least, he didn’t feel it close. Sensations came back to him in fits and starts as he tried to stand. His effort sent him hurling through space to fall flat some distance away. He tried standing again, only to lose his balance and topple over once more. Musing that this must be what John Carter had felt like when he discovered Mars low gravity, he concentrated harder and used measured movements to gain his feet.

  “Good. You solved that puzzle quickly.” Came the disembodied voice. “Now try heavy gravity.”

  With that, Crandall was knocked flat by the weight of his own body. Grimacing and straining against the force he wedged his elbows under his body close, gaining his lungs much needed room to expand. He forced will into his muscles to push him upright. Roman strained against the unseen bond of force that held him down. He got nowhere. Time and again he strained his muscles trying to force himself upright in defiance of whatever this thing was. Finally, he could fight no more and settled where he was to think. He had gained his feet last time by forcing his body to obey his will. No wait, not “forcing his body” but by concentrating on every muscle and thinking every motion through. Calming his breath and testing the limits of the force, he found that, like when he concentrated on his motions earlier, he could move slowly and carefully. So, this was not a physical test of agility, but a test of concentration. This was a test of how he responded with his mind. Crandall smiled just a little right before the next test came.

 

  The Army Intellegence officer slammed his hand on the table “You expect me to believe a highly trained, highly decorated and seasoned officer of the United States Navy just vanished? Is that REALLY what you’re saying?”

  Jim DeSalvo sat there, not looking at the officer, not looking at the table, not really looking at anything. He said nothing as well. He had come back from the cave a different man. No longer fidgety or clumsy. A man whose every motion was measured, wary and a little haunted. He had reported what he saw to his commanders at the debriefing session. They, of course, had not believed it. None of the others had experienced what Jim saw. Apparently they had been frozen in a way for a few more moments than he. All they could remember was the flash and boom that the Navy had written off as a clever booby trap. He held fast to what he had seen and stared into nothing.

  “DeSalvo,” the officer started with a let’s be reasonable tone,”You come from a Navy family. No one ever became Admiral, but solid service throughout the years. Is this story about the Chief disintegrating before your very eyes going to be your family legacy? I think your progenitors deserve better than that.”

   Jim was opening his mouth to respond when a buzz came from the door that halted him.

Another officer, the same Army Intellegence man who had briefed them originally came in. He couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly at the nickname Mookie had given him, “The Pillsbury Dough Boy.”

  The two officers conversed in low tones that soon became heated. At least the Navy officer became heated. “You have NO jusidiction here. He is enlisted in the Navy NOT the Gall Darned Army!”

  Crump gave the man a placating gesture with his hands, turned him and went back to speaking quietly. This went on for a few moments, the Navy officer getting more agitated, until Crump handed him a single piece of paper. Seconds later, the Navy officer’s shoulders slumped in resignation. He gave DeSalvo one parting look, glared at the Army officer, then left the room, door not quite slamming.

  Shaking his head and smiling wryly, Mark Crump walked over to DeSalvo, extended his hand and said “Mr. DeSalvo, we have a lot to talk about.”

 

LOL, no pain yet, so I kept going.

CHAPTER THREE

I'm afraid I'm knee-deep in PANDEMIC and don't have time to read this, but I think posting fiction in the forums is fun and people can give feedback if they are interested. I hope you get some positive results. 

CHAPTER 4

  The scream that Roman Crandall let out was never heard. How could it be? He screamed into the vastness that is space and sound doesn’t travel in a void. Roman was now grafted to the ovoid vessel. Like a masthead, he found himself guiding the craft through the eternity and with each passing moment he became more and more like the alien machine. Crandall found his cells were being transformed to something both organic and mechanical to better interact with the ovoid host and, as the universe passed around him, he became aware of his ability to interact with the atoms of the vessel and control them. At will, he could change the shape and mass of the ovoid. Passing the time as he sailed trough areas of a universe he never knew existed, he created fantastic shapes from the dynamic molecules. In a relatively short time Roman was expert at manipulating the craft. The side benefit to his practice was the realization that Crandall’s will now controlled the craft not the mysterious AI that had been his only companion.

 

   Time began to lose meaning for Roman as he moved through the Oort cloud at unknown velocities. The only thing he knew for sure was that he was alone and gaining knowledge daily. The information the ovoid supplied was amazing. It kept a perfect record of everything since its beginning. “Birthed” from a biomechanical entity so long ago the ovoid’s age would have to be measured in millennia rather than years. The scope of the entity was immense. The main body was easily the size of a medium star and housed strange objects the size of planets whose function seemed solely to catalogue information. There were other objects, made from what could be described as nothing more than coalesced energy had more arcane uses that seemed to deal with the very structure of the universe. Titanic tentacles stretched across solar systems in languid grace as the being that remained nameless exerted influence across the vastness of the universe. The view the ovoid recorded as it left the parsec of space where the entity dwelled caused a reaction in Crandall that struck him all the way to his soul. Like a lumbering demon from the very pit of hell it lay in space as it consumed countless planets and stars for sustenance. No terror ever conceived of by man could come close to this terrible truth. If ever there was something to cause fear to be imprinted into the DNA of Man, this was it.

 

   DeSalvo found himself reassigned. He had been allocated the daunting task of liason to the Army intelligence officer Mark Crump. His main duties involved driving the man around, delivering the odd messages to his superiors and keeping his eyes open. The first duty was easy. Crump hardly ever went anywhere. He seemed to do most of his work via the phone or the internet. That being the case, Jim sat around reading a lot of technical materials he had been asked to become familiar with. Under normal circumstances, he would have enjoyed the down time. The materials, however, made sure he did not sleep much.

 

  The first dossier he had been given was just the surface reading, a teaser, of sorts. These new folios contained far more information on the alien artifact sightings. Certainly they had more information than Jim ever wanted to know, still he read. Always having a preference for technology had been handy before. Now, Jim wondered if he should have stuck to becoming a mechanic. This shit was scary. Not only had the government known of and actively been searching for these objects (Yes, they knew there were at least three on the earth and one on the moon, another was suspected on Mars) but they had actually captured and studied at least one in a controlled environment. Controlled, that is, until the need arose to attempt its nuclear annihilation in the New Mexican desert.

 

   “….dated July fifteenth, 1945:

      Sirs,

 

It has come to our attention that the object is attempting to affect its own release. The ongoing experiments of communication are having an adverse affect upon the item. High voltage experiments have proven fruitless. Microwave energy was mildly more effective and elicited a mild response from the skin of the object. Subsequent testing involving first laser, then accelerated particles, has proven to be better choices. Our lack of understanding of the language systems, however, has caused a serious lapse. The object seems to be building energy to obtain a critical mass.

   At this juncture, we recommend the use of extreme measures to dissolve the situation. As we have no assurances what protective measures may be employed it is with great sadness we recommend the objects destruction.

 

Yours,

 

J. Robert Oppenheimer “

 

 “Seriously?” DeSalvo thought “They nuked the damn thing?”

 

In the folios that followed, day after day, more information surfaced. A lot of history’s mishaps seemed to have explanations that could be traced straight back to these objects. Scattered among these were numerous UFO sightings and unexplained craft disappearances. Legends as far back as Atlantis and as recent as the Mars probe disaster could all be linked to these objects. Taking all this in, Jim found himself lost in a maze of government intrigue and intricate webs of lies. More and more, his head hurt from the facts he was stuffing into it.

 

   The second of his duties brought him infrequently in contact with various muckety-mucks with shiny brass. As an enlisted man, he expected to be ignored for the most part. It was a huge surprise, therefore, that most of the men and women he met not only treated him with respect but also like an equal. Clearly he had joined an elite group of people who had an amazing secret between them. All things considered, he wished he could go back to being just a simple seaman. This interaction is what lead to his final duty.

 

   Approached by an admiral, DeSalvo was asked, very politely, to please bring reports of anything that seemed out of the ordinary to his attention. Jim wasn’t really sure what this man considered ordinary about this affair but committed to do so. These men were far better to handle these situations than he was after all. It was this particular duty that caused a mild breakthrough.

 

   While sitting there reading yet another portfolio, Jim was leafing through some photos when he heard Crump on the phone behind the closed office door. His duty in mind, he leaned just a bit closer to make out the conversation. As he did so, the parcel of photos fell from his lap on to the floor. One particular picture landed in a shaft of red light cast by a suncatcher. The photo was a detail of the multiple curves and swirls on the objects surface. The red color of the beam put it in a different light, literally. The simple changing of the color of light, from white to red, had brought up a series of  “|, -. And /.” The different lines formed patterns, patterns that anyone who spent a good amount of time in front of a computer would recognize. The patterns were binary code.

 

  Stumbling, in a rush DeSalvo called out “Captain Crump! You need to see this!”

 

   Answering the excitement in DeSalvo’s voice, Crump rushed out. In a few minutes, Jim had explained his observations and Crump had shifted the suncatcher to better advantage. The conversation became animated and they shifted photos back and forth. Crump ran back and forth checking more photos and marveling at how they could have missed something so simple. After a few minutes of major excitement the two men calmed down a bitand the real planning began.

 

  “DeSalvo, I don’t know if you’re lucky or cursed but it’s interesting standing next to you!”

 

  Frowning Jim replied, “I’m pretty sure the Chief wouldn’t use that word for whatever happened to him.”

 

   In fact he was wrong. Interesting was the perfect word for what was happening to Chief Petty Officer Roman Crandall.

...Sorry it's been a while for this chapter. Didn't think anyone was reading it until I looked at the views. Thanks for the interest and please feel free to leave feedback!

 

   The AI that ran the ovoid realized it was losing control and did not know why. After all, this consciousness was only a human being, not a very intelligent species by galactic standards. Apparently, there was a miscalculation, however, as the man slowly gained more and more control over the machine. What force of will within him could prove to be such a barrier? The machine mind searched its history for clues. It had known biologicals on the Earth since before the dawn of the current civilization. Indirectly it had caused the history of the planet to turn over several times, grooming the entities there for contact with alien species and development as a collective. Its overriding mission was to combine the cultures and biases of the universe into a more efficient mind, to make a mind that the one who birthed it could commune with and learn. In all the time that it had existed, the ovoid mind had never once found a situation it could not overcome by experience, guile or force. It was quickly coming to the conclusion it would need force in this case just to survive.

 

   Roman experimented with exotic configurations for the ship. He expanded the dimensions to warship size, then contracted to maximum density in a moment. The shift caused odd reactions in the space around him, moving stars and other heavenly bodies slightly out of their natural orbits. Watching the reaction to his exploits, he was able to gain an intuitive knowledge of what would and would not affect the things around him. Crandall also found that he did not need to stay tethered to the ovoid. He could soar next to or around it at will. His new bio-mechanical structure allowed him a vast amount of freedom, so long as he did not stray too far from the moving main body of the ship. In one experiment, he tried roaming away from the ship until he noticed it beginning to speed away from him. Clearly the momentum they shared would only last so far. Marking that distance, Roman made sure he kept well inside the perimeter.

 

   The AI would have cursed if it were not a machine. As it were, its limited emotional capacity allowed it to be annoyed. The man had noticed the ploy of trying to leave him to the vastness of space and responded. He should not have been able to manipulate the gravity well to save himself, all numbers pointed to that. The numbers did not have all the variables, clearly. The AI submerged for more study.

 

   Roman delved every hidden corner of the vessel. He scoured every piece of information he could find and extrapolated more. The machine was very logical in its thinking and maniacal in keeping records. Because the human brain can comprehend these concepts and throws creativity in, he stayed far ahead of the AI in awareness. He knew the purpose of the machine now and knew he was better suited for the task than a mere machine. His tactical side was now deciding on a plan of….if not of attack exactly, then certainly maintaining his dominance in this forced partnership.

  

   The mental gymnastics and separate logistics went on for a time when both minds were pulled into the immediate by a simple fact, the instruments had found a planet with life. Still too far out, the information was sketchy and Roman monitored as the AI went into a preprogrammed routine in preparation for contact. Crandall’s fascination grew as systems previously offline came into play. He noted control paths and tested them without interfering. The last thing he wanted was to be helpless on an alien planet. His caution proved wise. As the craft slowed and made its way into the alien solar system they received updated information, information about the residents that were the stuff of nightmares.

 

 

 

    Major Mark Crump was angry. He was very angry. For some unknown reason, Jim DeSalvo enjoyed that fact. For the first time since he was handed this detail, he was smiling like it was his first leave. After the discovery that DeSalvo had accidently made in the offices, the Sec Nav decided that Jim needed to be brought back into the fold. He wanted to make sure “…one of the Navy’s most important assets was under the supervision of his chosen branch of service.” Of course, since Crump was Army, that didn’t sit well. The fact that he was a political football in this game didn’t matter to him. He was going back to his own and that was fine with him.

 

  As Jim packed up his belongings, Crump oversaw the leave to make damned sure nothing of the Army’s left the premises, he had a hard time stifling his smile. Hide it he did, though, and in short order he was ready to leave. Hefting his box and shaking Crump’s hand he shook the dust of the Army officer from his shoes. Jim made his way from the standard block building to the driver provided for him. Marvelling at the lack of subtlety of the “cloak and dagger” type, DeSalvo was not surprised that his “car” was actually a stretch limo with tinted windows.

 

  “Oh well, they’re cliché for a reason.” Jim thought, impressed that the driver outranked him as he climbed into the back.

 

   Immediately, Jim knew a couple of things. First, he was NOT alone. Seated in the back of the limo was a high-ranking officer, a VERY high ranking officer. The Secretary of the Navy himself was grinning at him from the back seat. Not sure whether to stand and salute or just get in, he just stood there dumbly.

 

   “Please, Mr. DeSalvo, do get in. I have other obligations to attend to today.” Said the brass bedecked man.

 

    “Aye, sir.” And he did get in.

 

   The other thing Jim knew was that he was in the shit, deep in the shit and he knew it.

  Here's a short installment for this week. A couple more chapters and I may have a novella on my hands, lol. You can tweet me at @cyberjnkee if you like.

Enjoy!

     James Horatio Keeling, Secretary of the Navy, intimidated most people. Standing a full six feet six inches and a solid two hundred fifty pounds, he was impressive. After graduating top of his class in Annapolis, Keeling was fastracked into the political life. Of course he served his time actively on the aircraft carrier Eisenhower and Ohio class submarine Intrepid. The posts were more ornamental than functional, at least in theory. The purpose of these posts was to “season” the young officer’s jacket with practical experience while keeping him out of harm’s way. As is the case many times in life, things don’t always go as planned.

 

    Somewhere around the midpoint of the morning watch, as Keeling was serving as XO, an anomalous blip showed up on the RADAR.

 

  “Sir, we have a bogey at 343 degrees absolute, 3500 feet elevation incoming at  thirty knots.” The operator at the console called.

 

   “ Ready the port side guns, we are at condition yellow. Alert the patrol and scramble two more birds.  Call the ranges, RADAR.”

 

   Over the next few minutes, the ensign at the console relayed the ranges and attitude of the incoming unidentified craft while the patrol jets turned toward it for a better look. The silence and tension were palpable in the Conn tower. The bogey was on a intercept course with the ship.

 

  “Wake the Captain. Patrol, report.”

 

   “XO, we are one mile from contact. Target is running dark. Onboard RADAR is inconclusive, image is flickering.” Came from the speakers.

 

   “Understood, patrol, sixty second updates, per protocol.” was Keeling’s reply. “Port guns, target is hot, if it gets within a five mile radius, it is considered hostile, understood?”

 

   “Port guns are ready, locked and loaded, sir.” The speaker crackled again.

 

   The ensign at the RADAR console was impressed by the XO’s calm as he worked his way through the numbers for contact. He knew most young officers would be waiting for the Captain’s response but this man stood tall in the saddle in total control.

 

  “XO, this is patrol, bogey is identified as a drone. Looks like an old Ryan one three six, a Firebee by the looks of her. Sir, she’s been modified and carrying a payload.”

 

   “Understood, patrol, fall back and target. Let’s shoot that insect down.” Keeling ordered.

 

  “Aye, sir, orders understood, please verify.”

 

   “Orders are to engage and destroy the drones, patrol.”

 

   “Orders verified, engaging.” Patrol replied.

 

   In less than sixty seconds the RADAR controller announced “Target is no longer on the screen, XO.”

 

  “Confirm the kill, patrol.” Keeling ordered the circling jets.

 

  “Confirming one bogey sent to the deep, XO, guns only, no missiles needed.” Was the reply from the speakers.

 

   Just at that moment the Captain came through the hatch and onto the bridge. “What’s the situation, XO? Details, now!” Captain Vince McClaren  asked as he buttoned his shirt.

 

   In the next few minutes, while at attention, James Horatio Keeling reported the facts as he saw them and built his career. After this incident, the rumor that he had ice in his veins and steel in his heart would spread as the Navy tracked down the small ship where the drone originated and captured the insurgents responsible. A small cell of Al Queda had commandeered the materials and was looking to make a name for itself at the cost of one United States aircraft carrier. Keeling’s quick thinking and adherence to strict procedure became a minor legend which he nurtured at every party, meeting or awards ceremony.  Of course, the legend grew to saving the ship from a full squad of Migs, a fact, he corrects with proper humility now, in polite company. As Sec Nav, he could afford the humility now and used even that to his advantage.

 

  “Jump in, Jim, we have to get going, and may I say, I like your name, son!” the secretary told DeSalvo.

 

   Smiling at the joke, everyone knew the Secretary hated his first name and went by Horatio, it was more regally naval, Jim got in the car.

 

   “Good morning, sir.” Jim said a bit sheepishly.

 

   “No need to stand on ceremony, son, call me Horatio and drop the “sir.” At least, in private, OK?”

 

   “Aye, sir…..errrrr Horatio.” Jim grinned. “Not that I’m ungrateful, but to what do I owe this honor?”

 

   “Grateful? What on Earth would you be grateful for?” quipped the secretary. “Ohhhh, getting you away from Crump? Can’t blame you there, he isn’t exactly what he appears to be, but he’s harmless enough.”

 

  Being a decent judge of character, Jim DeSalvo thought Mark Crump was a lot of things, harmless was not one of them.

 

   “Let me cut to the chase.” Keeling started as he poured himself a fair measure of bourbon from the included bar. Motioning with the crystal glass he offered one to Jim. After a moment’s hesitation, he accepted, thinking he may need a little something to calm himself.

 

   “Mark Crump is more than just a Captain in the Army Intellegence Corps.” The way he said “Intellegence” left no room for wonder on how the Secretary really felt. He hated that particular branch and probably believed in the old joke about Army Intellegence being an oxymoron. “He is a cog in the alphabet soup wheel of destruction. Affiliated with at least two agencies that have no real names, just letters, he pimps himself out to any and all buyers within the U.S. government. These coppery ovoids are his particular specialty and right now he is selling a bumper crop.”

 

   “I get the distinct impression that you do not care for Mr. Crump?” Jim stated the obvious.

 

  Horatio Keeling smiled from behind his glass as he sipped. “I don’t think you will lose any sleep being unattatched to him.”

 

   Sipping his own bourbon, it was very good bourbon, Jim nodded silently. He hadn’t realized how much he disliked the weasel of a man he was driving around until he was free of him.

 

   “Well, getting back on track, I am putting you in one of our, the NAVY’s, safe places to study this thing. I want to know everything there is to know about it and I think you’re my man. Am I correct on this?”

 

   DeSalvo had the distinct feeling he needed to answer that question correctly, so took a moment, not too long a moment, and answered “Yes, sir, I think I am.”

 

  “That’s exactly what I thought.” The secretary smiled “and I believe we are here.” The long black car glided to a stop in front of what looked to be an abandoned warehouse.

 

   Confused, Jim DeSalvo looked out at the woebegone building. “Horatio, the Navy owns a beat up old building?”

 

    “Of course, we do. We own lots of them.” Keeling chuckled “Where do you think we keep the mermaids? All joking aside, we’re the Navy, we like water, remember?”

 

   Exiting the limo and entering the building, the two men found a lone desk with a lone occupant. Upon seeing the men enter, the sailor, a decorated seal, stood to attention.

 

   “Good afternoon, Mr. Secretary, I was notified of your arrival. Please give the codeword and I will have the snipers stand down.”

 

   “Peanut butter.” Keeling replied.

 

   “Peanut butter?” DeSalvo asked.

 

    “The Commander was hungry when he came up with the words this month.” The guard answered with absolute seriousness before he removed a card from his chest pocket, swiped it through a reader on the desk and applied both of his thumbs in sequence to a scanner. Upon completion of this maneuver, a panel slid open in one of the supporting pylons opposite the desk. Behind the panel was an elevator open and waiting.

 

   “Ready to follow the rabbit down the hole?” the Secretary asked.

 

   Realizing there was a big grin on his face, Jim nodded dumbly as the two men stepped into the elevator. Once inside, Keeling pressed the only button available. DeSalvo rolled his eyes as he recognized the distinctive ‘swish’ sound effect as the door closed.

 

   “This is certainly going to be an interesting place to work.” Jim said.

 

   “You have NO idea.” Was Keeling’s grinning reply.

 

   The elevator made its silent, if Star Trekkie cliché, way down into the earth. Presently, it slowed to a stop and the doors opened. Stepping out, the secretary raised his arm in a sweeping gesture.

 

   “Welcome to Wonderland, Alice.”

 

 

 

 

   The craft that Roman Crandall was now a part of descended to the surface of the planet it had discovered. Having scanned all the information as the ship did, Roman knew this planet was comprised mostly of swampland broken up by some rocky mountains. The average temperature was around one hundred and ten degrees Fahrenheit and humidity remained a steady eighty-five percent. An oxygen/hydrogen mix in the air allowed for unaided breathing, even if the scent of rotting plant life prevailed.

 

   The other important piece of information was about the indigenous life forms:

 

   This planet was infested, not inhabited, by a species of large slug-like beings. They had segmented, tubular bodies where half of the body is parallel to the ground, supported by six multi-jointed legs. The body bends 90 degrees upwards at the "waist." This vertical upper body has four multi-jointed arms, as well as the head. Their heads featured five eyes spread equidistant around the body, giving the race 360-degree vision. Below the eyes, they have a pink octagonal mouth, filled with black teeth that point backwards into the mouth. Speaking is accomplished through a cluster of vocal tubes that stick out of the top of its head. Their skin was thick and tough, embedded with enamel spots that run a variety of colors spanning from deep red to dark orange to black. The personification of a human nightmare.

 

 

   The database did not name the species but did have them labeled as ‘dangerous.’ There was another notation ‘Not suitable for collection.’ That piqued Roman’s interest. What exactly was ‘collection’ and how could he use it to his advantage. He was determined to keep the upper hand on the AI as, somewhere in the back of his mind, his escape plan was forming.

 

   Almost as soon as the craft hit the ground, Roman separated from it. Having put some failsafe instructions in place, he knew he would have at least an hour to get back on board if the AI got restless. Having nothing resembling a weapon he decided on stealth. The practice Roman had already put in was paying dividends. With the whisper of a thought, he bent the light around his biomechanical body and faded into the scenery. Aware that these slug things saw a different range of light, he made sure to mask everything down to his heat signature. Congratulating himself, he started his surveillance. Unfortunately, he was wrong, he didn’t mask everything.

 

   Kar-O-Shart slithered his way through the undergrowth. The object that landed was of a strange metal. A metal that pulsed with all the spectrums of light he could see. As an advanced guard, his duty was to protect his groveling. He was a veteran of many encounters with the denizens of the swamp and would gladly give his life to protect his own. He was proud to be of Morevina Expanse.

 

   As Kar watched, a being separated from the craft. It was a large thing, not as large as he, but solid and a possible threat to his people. The thing moved forward on two legs a few steps, then was gone. Just gone. Kar learned a long time ago not to be fooled by what he saw, so he watched and moved and watched some more. Sniffing, he found no scent but a feeling was in the air, so he watched and waited. There it was, moving through the swamp and rippling the waters. Kar watched. Kar waited. If the thing went toward his people, he would destroy it. He slithered up near the thing and silently bunched his body to strike.

 

  Roman listened to the natural sounds of the swamp around him. He heard the buzzing of insects, chirping of birds and splashing of small animals in the water. It was at that very moment he realized two things. One: he was splashing in the same water, no matter how invisible to light. Two: He was in some deep shit.

 

   Kar released the tension in his bunched body and sprang at the thing. It was with a satisfying thud he hit it. He hit it hard. The thing flew sideways into the tree and was broken. Kar would be a hero for protecting his groveling. He was proud.

 

   The black thing came at him from the water. It came too fast for Roman to react. He took the full force of the thing then slammed into a tree. Had he still been completely human, he would have died from massive trauma from the blows. Luckily, he was no longer completely human. His bio-mechanics absorbed the force admirably. Regaining his balance, the nanite structure of the new cells repairing any damage almost instantly, Roman took stock of his surroundings. This ten foot slug beast had just body slammed him and looked like he was ready to do it again. Shaking his arms to warm up, Roman smiled and ran at the creature that had hit him.

 

   The collision between the two warriors was colossal. Like a freight train slamming a tank the noise resounded through the area. Two bodies locked in combat arms against arms, will against will. One a behemoth of ten feet in length about six hundred pounds, the other six feet eight and as dense as a block of steel. On slamming together their arms wrapped and the second set on the dark slug struck upwards. The blows were insufficient to even register on Roman’s concentration. With a titanic effort he tightened his grip on the monster and squeezed. It was tough and large, but simply could not stand up to the pressure of Crandall’s nano-enhanced body.

 

  “The Thing was strong, so very strong” thought Kar. It stood up when it should have been dead, attacked him after. That could not be. Kar was strong and fierce. Kar struck at the thing again and again, to no avail. In a few brief moments Kar knew his fate was inevitable. He was going to die, he had failed his groveling.

 

   Inexorably Roman’s hands came together behind the creature. They locked there and, with a strength begotten of adrenaline, he pulled them together. With a cracking sound it was over. The beast quivered and died in his arms. Black blood streamed from the thing’s orifices as Crandall twisted its spine in finality. The brutality and primal essence of the kill caused a reaction in Roman. He was at once sickened and satisfied. Knowing that this beast would have killed him did little to stop the gall from rising within him, but another part of him, a part buried deep in his psyche, enjoyed the victory. Both feelings were forgotten in an instant when a directive from the engineered side of him caused him to stretch out his hand and lay it on the body.

 

   For an indeterminate time Crandall lost his consciousness. It did not submerge as with the AI but blended with a new set of thoughts, memories and emotions. Roman knew the thing was named Kar now. He knew of its mate and family back in what was called a groveling. The tight knot of bodies entwined for protection and a type of communion. He could understand their language now and was dimly aware of more of them gliding closer to his location. He had absorbed the beast as the AI had taken him. Well, not quite the same. Kars had no chance of taking over the physical. Kars was like a new set of memories and experiences plugged into and integrated with his own. In an epiphany, Crandall knew now what the ovoids were supposed to do and it was not a good thing.

 

   The sound of a splash not thirty meters oof brought him back to himself. Turning back toward the ovoid craft, Roman ran with the confidence of one who knows the bottom of the swamp and stayed ahead of what he could count on following him. Using his biomechanical bond, he readied the craft for immediate departure for a quick, clean escape. Rounding a copse of moss-laden trees he came to the clearing where the ship should be and found it empty.

 

   Cursing, Roman Crandall turned to meet his pursuers head on.

Last week was a little light so you get more this week. Hope you enjoy it!

Also, remember Scott lets me post here so make sure you guys show him some appreciation and support his sight!

   Taking up a warrior’s stance, Roman waited. Using his bio-mechanical enhanced sight he saw what he was up against, a horde of oncoming demons. Between him and the enemies, however, he noticed a shimmer. The wavering of the air encircled him at about thirty meters and disappeared into the shallow waters where it caused small ripples around a distinct line pressing into the water causing a slim void. Curious, Crandall let his electronic senses loose for a second to discover the meaning. A brief moment later he found the ovoid. It was hovering over the scene like a vicious bird of prey. Apparently it had learned from Roman as well as the shape he saw reminded him of the silhouette of an FA-18 Hornet. His attention was brought back to his situation in an instant as several of the creatures had bunched their segments and lunged at their prey. Time seemed to go into super slow motion as Roman watched the attack. The black bodies surrounding him sailing through the air like missiles with shark teeth. Their attacks were futile. Each body impacted the shimmer and crumpled before disintegrating. The ovoid had set up the same barrier it used in the desert to protect him.

   Roman watched in horror then pity as the monsters crushed themselves against the barrier, body after body. Shaking his head once he wondered why they did not retreat and strategize a new attack when a voice answered his question from inside his own head.

   “We will protect our grovelings with our lives, there is no honor in retreat.” The assimilated psyche of  Kar-O-Shart informed him. “We know no other way.”

 

   In a few scant minutes the attack was over and Crandall stood alone scanning the area. Nothing moved because nothing was left. All of the creatures had sacrificed themselves against the force shield the ovoid had erected. All of them had been dedicated to the survival of their kind by the destruction of their enemy. Part of Roman’s mind was chagrined at the loss, another part was proud and silently saluted the effort.

 

   Letting his senses fold back to normal and making contact with the ovoid, which now had adopted a new form, Roman relaxed his stance and made ready to board the vehicle that landed more like a Harrier than its analogue. Entering the cockpit he found the controls at once familiar and alien. There was no yoke or control stick, only two slots in the pilot’s seat at the end of the arm rests where his hands would normally rest. Shrugging, he took his place in a seat that molded to his form and inserted his hands into the slots.

 

   Crandall was instantly connected to the plane. Just as with the ovoid he found he could sense every inch and operation of the modified vehicle. Taking conscious control, he sent the ship up in a graceful arc performing a barrel roll before streaking back into space and letting the AI put them back on whatever course it had been programmed with. Settling back, Roman let his mind wander as he processed the day’s events.

 

   AS the events unfolded in his brain and he attempted to come to grips with the large loss of life Roman closed his eyes. When he opened them again he found himself back in that all white room where he was “trained” by the AI. This time, he was not alone. Standing across from him in relaxed silence was the creature he had killed.

 

   “Greetings, thing, I am Kars-O-Sharter.” The vocal tubes rattled out. “What is this place you have taken me to?”

 

  “That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it?” Roman replied. “First, I am Roman Crandall and welcome to my mind…I think.”

 

   “Indeed.” Kars sounded almost jovial “That is interesting Romancrandall, but could you please explain how I came to be here. The last thing I recall is battling with you unsuccessfully.”

 

   Laughing, Roman began the same explanation the AI had provided him. While doing so he probed the ship for the AI and discovered it waiting for him to beckon. As Roman spoke to Kars he queried the AI on subtle details and protocols. The machine responded with alacrity and completely. Toward the end of his orientation of Kars, he asked the AI point blank “What is changed? Why are you being so helpful?”

 

   “Roman Crandall,” the AI responded “what you have done has never been accomplished before. It was known to be impossible for a carbon based form to assimilate and incorporate other beings without serious immediate consequence. You seem to be handling the absorption well. To the best of my knowledge, this is impossible, yet the evidence proves otherwise.”

 

   Roman took the information in with aplomb. Then the realization of what the AI had just told him sank in. That’s when the shakes began.

 

   Jim DeSalvo looked as if his jaw was going to fall off his face. This caused the Secretary to quip “Yep, it’s amazing what the Navy can do with the monies from three hundred dollar head seats, isn’t it?”

 

  Dumbstruck by the sprawling installation Jim could not reply, he just nodded. In every direction he looked DeSalvo saw marvels of technology. From banks of computers with holographic monitors to prototype vehicles straight from a sci-fi movie each item outdid the next. The gleam of polished stainless steel and brass, the Navy would always love its brass, was everywhere Jim looked. In the center of it all was an ovoid.

 

  Instantly losing his rapture and becoming wary, DeSalvo did not notice the arrival of a woman with long dark hair. She stood patiently at the Secretary’s side as Jim came back to his senses.

 

   “Mr. Secretary, welcome to the Wonderland installation.” The woman handed them ID badges “Please be sure and keep these visible at all times. Some people get a little nervous if they don’t see them.”

 

   Her smile was warm and inviting while her eyes belied a hardness and strength of will. Not tall, only just topping five feet, she was slim and had an athletic build. Her bobbed hair framed her face softening her look. Her ramrod straight back and curt motions hardened it.

 

   “Commander Erin Farrell, this Jim DeSalvo, the one who figured out the programming angle.”

 

   Her eyes were still hard as she took his hand and shook it “Good to meet you Jim, we’re hoping you can keep moving us in the right direction.”

 

   Looking around, DeSalvo wasn’t sure what he could offer a group this elite “I’ll do my best ma’am.”

 

   “Oh I know you will, sailor. It’s my job to make sure that happens.” This time there was a distinct sense of mirth in her eyes. Oddly, that did not make Jim feel comfortable.

 

   “I will leave you to it then, I have to go rub elbows with the rest of the Brass and procure more funding. Keep me apprised of any progress, Commander.” The Secretary accepted the salutes and made his way back to the elevator.

 

    From his vantage point, Jim watched as Secretary Keeling entered the elevator. He couldn’t help noticing the man stared at the ovoid like a starving man watches the plate of food just out of his reach. Once again, Jim was not comfortable with the nagging feeling at the back of his mind.

 

   Following the Commander to the workstations surrounding the captured ovoid Jim became more apprehensive as he got closer. He hadn’t realized just how deep watching the Chief disappear had affected him. Something about the object caused a deep seated fear to rise up inside him and start taking hold. He shook the feeling back as he made it to the perimeter marked on the floor around the object. It was at that point that a flurry of activity began.

 

   The first thing DeSalvo noticed was a low humming noise that seemed to be slowly building. Next was the fact that all five of the technicians surrounding the object were stock still and staring at him. They stared for good reason. As Jim had approached, the object had started to pulse. The closer he got, the more distinct the reaction became. At the edge of the perimeter, really just where the work tables encircled the ovoid leaving walkways between them, a soft glow emanated from the thing. Furthermore, an answering glow encircled Jim.

 

   “Whatever you do, don’t interfere with it.” The Commander ordered.

 

   With a wry smile Jim responded in his head “Absolutely I will not interfere.” His inner voice even remembered to give the phrase a Russian accent.

The realization that Kars was now a part of his psyche almost shut Roman down. Almost. Too much the model of what the United States navy was all about he dealt with what was new information. Cataloguing the ramifications of what the absorption meant Crandall weighed options and strategies, blew out a sigh and turned his attention outward. He was a Chief Petty Officer and he was damned well going to act like one.

“Puter,” Roman adopted this nickname for the AI thinking about an old comic book involving a cyborg with an onboard AI “The physical aspects and mass of the ship seems to be changing, explain.”

“I am no longer in control of the craft, you are. The changes you see are coming from your own subconscious needs.”

The news should have surprised Roman, but all things considered, seemed tame by comparison. Locking into the cockpit seat and taking control Crandall let the predetermined course take them back to the void. As a mental exercise Crandall flexed the various systems to get an idea of their limits. Flying in intricate patterns and loops he found that the configuration of the ship was less important than the focused instructions to the thrusters and drives. At one point, he even changed the shape to a cube and attempted to make a ninety degree turn off course. The craft allowed some leeway then arced back to the original course without Crandall’s permission.

“Resistance is futile, I suppose.” Roman muttered.

Settling back into a more stylized version of a jet fighter, Crandall perused the astronomics information. Interested in where he was going and what to expect, Roman decided to do his homework for the next encounter. Calculating that there must be some sort of data base to draw on, he scoured those particular sets of memory and was rewarded by a wealth of fact. In the millennia that the craft had been traveling, it had encountered several life forms of sentient nature and numerous anomalies of non-sentient. Some of the information meant nothing to Roman and he quickly became frustrated. His frame of reference was far too limited to let him evaluate what he was discovering.

“What I wouldn’t give for some help right now.” Roman muttered.

As soon as the thought came out he face palmed. He had help. He just needed to remember to use it.

“Kars, what do you make of this information I am currently scanning?”

“My people know that constellation as “The Flare.” In ancient times it is said that that particular group underwent violent flashing for many years.” Kars responded in Roman’s head.

“Affirmative. Now this thing. Any idea what it is?” Crandall brought up information about the indigenous life form. Kars reacted immediately.

“Romacrandall, why do you show me this abomination? If it were here I would crush it mercilessly. These vermin attempted to take our groveling grounds until we destroyed them all.

Kars projected an image of thousands of the creatures he showed him. They were slaughtering Kars’ people indiscriminately. Coming from ugly ships with even uglier guns, they killed the segmented swamp dwellers with some sort of radiation beam. The events of several years of war were compressed into a few images for Roman like a snapshot of history. All the death and pain thrust upon him in the blink of an eye as he relived the conflict. Then the great convention of the grovelings where each sent it’s bravest and largest to make a final stand. Crandall watched as the enemy was surrounded by a seething wall of black bodies that closed ever tighter until all of the invaders were gone.

The feelings of bittersweet pride and sorrow overtook Roman as he let the history sink into his memory. He viewed the image of the vanquished foe. The large bodies carrying four arms topped by a single, large color-changing eye and protected by an insectile chitin. Bracketed by varying pedipalps, the way the eyes seemed to fill with black then yellow and back was disconcerting. Worse, was the way the shrill sounds from the mouth slits pierced the air as they rolled to attack. Crandall was very glad he decided to do the intel before meeting these beqasts. The roll alone could have caught him off guard enough to put him at a disadvantage.

Dedicating himself before his inevitable encounter with this species, Roman trained and strategized. Being able to draw on Kars’ experience proved invaluable in his preparation. Being able to use the practical experience of the creature let Crandall create simulations for training. Confidence sang in his muscles as his training progressed.

Kars proved to be a tough taskmaster and superb tactician. Combined with Roman’s intelligence and dexterity the simulations fell easier and easier.

“Simulations aren’t fighting for survival.” Kars pointed out. That sobering fact rang in the back of Roman’s mind as the ship fell gracefully toward the next planet.

 

The tingling of his skin was not unpleasant, nor was it pleasurable. Of course, the fact that an alien artifact was causing the sensation may have had a bit to do with the impression. Jim DeSalvo stood there dumbfounded. He was afraid to move and wanted nothing more than to run away and run fast. Having seen one of these things disintegrate the Chief was causing more than a little anxiety. Drawing in a slow breath let him relax a small amount. As the cool air entered his lungs again and again, and he found himself still in one piece, his nerves calmed and Jim opened his senses to what was happening. Closing his eyes helped to focus on the experience and had the added benefit of shutting out the panicked faces of the techs surrounding him.

As he stood there images began to flash at the back of his eyelids. Beginning as simple colors the images progressed to basic shapes then living things. With a start, Jim realized the thing was learning from him. From simple images DeSalvo’s images became his memories. Starting slowly he ran through his toddler years. In mere moments his adult life was being scanned. Abruptly, the images froze. In preternatural clearness one image remained. The one moment carved deep into Jim’s nightmares stared at him now. Every spec of dust, drop of sweat and horrifying image assaulted him. CPO Roman Crandall stood before him again. Well, half of him did as Jim could make out the advancing line of disintegration. His bile rose again as he relived that moment until he could stand it no longer and stepped back raising his arms against the artifact’s invasion.

Supporting arms grabbed Jim as his knees buckled. Severing the link left him feeling like a battery that had been used far too long without a recharge. His breath came in harsh gasps as he was dropped into a chair. Commander Farrell kneeled in front of him and checked his pupils for responses. Satisfied, she smacked him once across the cheek.

“Let’s get it together, sailor. You’re no good to anyone passed out on the floor.” She chided.

Not sure which annoyed him more, the slap or the jibe, Jim shook his head to clear it and gathered his senses. Breathing became less stressed for Jim as the moments passed. A sideways grin  crawled on to his face as he stared into the Commanders.

“I get the distinct feeling you enjoyed that.” He quipped.

Visibly relaxing, the Commander rocked back on her heels “This fish will swim, I think. Now what’s going on here, report!”

No matter what your opinion about military training you have to admit the constant practice of discipline and repetition really works when the stuff hits the fan. Jim recounted exactly what had happened to him in a quick, concise manner before he even had a chance to think about it. Smiling, and believe it that DeSalvo noticed her smile, she patted him on the knee then turned back to the various techs and equipment for more information.

The artifact had fallen silent almost the same instant that Jim had pulled free. In the brief time it was active the machines had been busy. Measuring energy expended and collected by the artifact had been their primary mission. It was a mission that was to measure nothing for quite some time. Now the famine was over and the feast of facts was indeed a buffet. As the various scientists evaluated what had just happened Jim stayed quietly out of the way recuperating from the event.

Abruptly, one man held up a handful of paper and called Commander Farrell over. Most of the techs followed in enthralled silence. After some brief murmuring, the Commander pulled out her phone and told someone to get there quick. A few seconds later, a middle-aged balding gentleman, who looked very much like someone’s senile old uncle came bursting through the doors to the warehouse. Moving straight to the Commander the man took her information and read the data himself.

“I concur.” He said “Whatever else this thing is, it is communicating with something somewhere via  some sort of intraspacial method.”

“I guess the real question is WHAT is it saying to WHOM?” the Commander thought out loud.

“I may be able to help you with that.” Jim’s voice cracked a bit as he volunteered.

Slowly, every eye in the place turned to him and waited.

“I believe I asked for a report, did I not, sailor?” Commander Farrell asked Jim DeSalvo with an arched eyebrow that told him just how miffed she was.

“Yes, ma’am, you did.” The events of the past few minutes were settling into Jim’s brain as time passed. “It’s just, well, things are starting to clear up a bit and fall into place. Some things that I didn’t even know what they were are now clearing up into images and impressions.”

Farrell nodded and made a circling motion with her hand urging him to go on. Each deep breath Jim took helped set all the pieces of what was going on into their proper perspectives. Holding up a hand and tilting his head he took the few moments he needed for clarity and sanity to take hold. Odd glimpses of what seemed at first to be his own memories separated and coalesced into something foreign. The memories he saw now, he knew, did not belong to him. Flashing in his mind’s eye was an alien landscape, then stars beyond counting. At the edge of that star field lie something very large and very dark. Next came images of a birth of sorts, long travel through space and finally landing here on Earth. Once again the moment of the Chief’s demise flashed into Jim’s brain, but this time the angle was wrong. This time he was watching from the objects point of view.

As the forced memories flooded him, DeSalvo knew two things. First, these objects talked to each other. The second thing was beyond hope.

“OK, I think this thing was accessing my memories. When it came up to the incident in the Middle East, it slowed down and watched the event play out slowly. While it was doing that, I think I was getting some things from it, too.”

The Commander and the man who had blustered in exchanged a quick glance. Clearly concerned by what Jim had just relayed the Commander gave the man an enquiring look. His only response was a silent shake of his head.

As they turned their attention back to him, DeSalvo continued “A lot of what I felt is still fuzzy, some of it seems to be clearing slowly. The one thing I can say for sure is this: It definitely was talking to other objects like itself. It was enquiring about the coordinates of something and, Ma’am, it got a reply.”

The middle aged man came forward now and held Jim’s arm. “Sailor, not another word.”

Her ire raised, Commander Farrell followed the pair from the hall to an adjacent meeting room. Closing the door behind them and locking it, she stood guard at the egress. The man led Jim into the room and to a seat. Confused, Jim sat down and tried to collect his thoughts a little more.

“Let me introduce myself. I am Dr. James Blackwell. Until a few minutes ago, I was the man who had the most information on these things. That distinction now belongs to you. As you can understand from your experiences so far, this knowledge must be kept to minimal personnel. This falls under a level of security that has no official name. Suffice it to say, this doesn’t exist, officially.”

Two months ago Jim DeSalvo was a simple sailor. He had been attatched to an intel unit in the Middle East where his main duties involved intercepting radio communications and tracking cell phones. It wasn’t glamorous or even very challenging. At this exact moment, however, it’s where Jim wanted to be. He longed for a moment to be back in the bliss of ignorance before he knew about secret installations, alien artifacts and definitely before he saw the Chief die. Then the memories from the object cleared for him. He now was absolutely certain about the second fact.

Jim stood with a start. “He’s alive! The Chief is alive!”

“Excuse me?” Blackwell asked incredulously “Who is the Chief and what are you talking about?”

Not thinking about what he was doing, Jim ran to the Commander and grabbed her by her shoulders.

“Chief Petty Officer Roman Crandall is alive and that thing was trying to contact him! Ma’am, it succeeded!”

 

Knowing that the planet he was approaching was populated by beings with the technology for space travel, Roman shifted the ship into a spectrum of light that should be invisible to the creatures well in advance of making orbit. As he sailed around the barren planet he saw the evidence of war. A nasty war at that. There were craters at least a half mile wide in places and most of the vegetation was squat and ugly. The kind you expect to see growing through concrete or the cracks in boulders. Clearly there had been a nuclear war here. Checking the instruments told him that not only was there atomic detonations here, it was recent enough that the radiation levels on the surface would be lethal to most forms of life. No wonder the indigenous life had formed protective chitin like a cockroach.

“Roman Crandall,” the AI interjected “this life form is NOT indigenous. They have chosen this planet as their own. Past information has shown me these beings in another location.”

“You sure, Puter?” He asked incredulously. “What would WANT to live here?”

The electronic personality said nothing. It just kept running its facts and figures through a series of preset algorithms. Crandall felt his skin tingle with anticipation as an icy calm came over him. Whether it was his battle hardened senses or some tiny anomaly in the sensory data that alerted him, Roman would never know. What he did know was that something was close. He could feel it in the way his nerves sang with every motion.

 

Tallia the unseen was doing what she was trained to do. She stayed silent and motionless in her bio-shell that woke her on the objects approach. With slow, silent motions she came awake and responded to the viewer in her helmet. The HUD showed her a craft about forty meters wide and easily as long. It was heavily armed and armored to the point where her passive scanners could not breach the hull. It could hold one sentient or many, depending on configuration. She settled her breathing and let her trained muscles flex and cause momentum. Stealthily her pod drifted toward the craft. If it was equipped with the same sensors she was, it would see a moving cloud of what seemed dust. If its sensors were inferior, which was likely, it would register nothing more than a spatial anomaly. Flexing her muscles she prepared for battle with many, her worst case scenario.

 

The ship sensors told Roman there was nothing there, just some dust off the starboard side. His senses, his instinct, said there was more. Roman prepared for another battle by extending blades from his forearm and retracting them in succession. He knew, no matter what the intel, there was no replacement for experience. Searching the hull he had not realized was growing so much, he was still surprised when he met the alien.

 

Tallia awoke in a white room on a sort of pedestal, not unlike a med bay but far more comfortable. She did not wear her armor, but a light cloth shift that afforded her modesty and freedom of motion. She was confused for a moment. How had she come to be here? The last she remembered she was on her sentinel pod. That pod where she would spend her barren life waiting to serve her people.

She could not reproduce. Her genetic material was flawed and she was treated, as all barren females, with hormones to make her a silent warrior. It was her people’s shame that they banished her kind to solitude and sleep because of a missing gene. The barren women of her race were spread about the colonies as sentinels and guardians. Trained as warriors to protect the planets they slept and waited.

Standing, her balance coming back in waves, she walked away from the table toward the figure. Out of focus, it could have been anything. Something told her it was a “man.” What a man was she knew not, but warily she approached it. As it came into view, she was awed. The man was easily a meter taller than she. Had to weigh over six hundred and twenty-five kilos and was muscled as a warrior. She remembered myths from her childhood of such things and cowered. These titans were said to be the harbingers of destruction and pain. The thing spoke and took her by surprise with its words.

 

“Tallia, the unseen, I am Roman Crandall and you will not be hurt in my care. You are safe.”

 

If her kind had tear ducts, she would have cried. No one in her life had ever shown kindness to her. This thing whom she remembered fighting, hurting and being killed by offered her safety and comfort. Her consciousness fell into a dark slumber and she slept peacefully.

 

 

“Roman Crandall,” the Kar-O-Shart began “You have done a great kindness to this sentient. Never in my existence have I seen one so destroyed by their own people. You know I have no love for them, but this female has gained my respect. You, Roman Crandall have gained my trust and, if I am not mistaken, much more from Tallia.”

Roman’s only reply was to sit quietly as they left orbit. Silently, he thought about his own children and wished he could shed at least one tear. The female had fought valiantly but with no heart. In the end Roman knew he only ended her banishment, not her life.

Sorry for the wait, here's another step in the path

Lost in his own mind, Roman shut out the probes by the AI. He was totally in control of the vehicle now. It no longer held sway on him. Communing with Kar, he pondered the history of the race he had just encountered. His stomach turned at how they hormonally changed the infertile females into beasts as large and hard as the natural warriors then, not wanting to be reminded of them, cast them into a silent ring around their planets as a first defense. Accessing her memories his heart saddened and boiled at her treatment. Tossed to the budding warriors as a sex toy to learn anger and hatred, Tallia’s mind learned to remove her from her body as it was abused. She was a gentle soul among a race of animals.

Stopping his thoughts there, Crandall reminded himself about the human race’s indiscretions and his funk grew deeper. Were he and his people so very different?

“Yes, Roman Crandall, you are.” The soft female voice of Tallia came to him. “None of my race, nor Kars’ I would wager, would have shown me any kindness. There is a sense of nobility in you and your people unseen in this area of the galaxy.”

Kars’ consciousness withdrew a moment in what felt like shame acquiescing the point. Tallia withdrew also and Roman let her sleep. He ran a mental diagnostic of the ship and found it had grown once again. Fit to keep a crew of six or eight, it had also absorbed the new tech from Tallia’s pod. Her power source proved to be an immense help as it had very efficient release curve allowing its use for centuries to come. In passing, Roman wondered what would happen to all those other alien amazons who were banished to purgatory. Their pods would last an extremely long time.

Blowing out a sigh and returning to full awareness, Roman was met by the AI’s voice. If a machine COULD sound smug, this one would right now.

“Roman Crandall, we have been contacted by Earth.” The tinny voice echoed in his head.

Startled, Roman stood straight up in the now room-sized cockpit. “What? Why didn’t you…” and then his voice trailed off as he realized he had been the one to silence the AI. “Ok, give me the details, Puter.”

In perfect measure, as machines are wont to do, the AI explained again the connection that all the ovoids shared and the conditions upon which they may contact each other. Detatched, the voice recounted its beginning and original programming. There were several fail safes built in to ensure that each of the ovoids continued to spread across the universe gathering data for their arcane creator. Their paths were locked in from the time they left to the time they finally failed. One of the few instances where that was not the case was when one of their kind was threatened by the local sentients and could not escape. In that eventuality, the ovoids could combine forces to free their captured counterpart.

Scouring the AI’s information, Roman found a small bit of unknown code. The AI seemed unaware of it as part of the fail safe though it was filed in the general folder of such. Crandall assumed it a “last resort” such as a self-destruct mechanism. Sealing the code off with a firewall, he ignored it and kept searching.

In a few moments he came across the brief moment of contact. Tracing the signal through the architecture of the ship, Roman located the communications array and assessed the tech’s capabilities. Clearly it was way above his pay grade. About all he could make of the combination of science and magic was that there were few if any limitations to the system. Active, it could cross vast distances with instant information. The only downfall to it was the amount of energy it expended. By shutting down all other systems an ovoid could send out a brief SOS. Afterwards, it would need to stay inert for a period of time as it gathered more energy from the surroundings to recharge. With the unique power source from Tallia’s pod, Crandall saw a new possibility.

‘Puter, I think it’s time to phone home.” Roman smiled.

 

SecNav Keeling sat at the head of the table. Immaculate in his dress uniform, he commanded the room. Not that it was difficult to shine amongst these mundane soldiers and sailors. Keeling shone with the inner light of purpose and confidence that all true leaders (and some few madmen) possess. The meeting was more of the same budget haggling and gerrymandering that he had become used to. When the page came in, bringing the conversation to a halt, Keeling was relieved.

The page stood at attention after delivering the enveloped note to the SecNav. Waiting for the eventuality that the Secretary would need to send a reply, he was amazed when the smile overtook Keeling’s face. It must have been good news. Good. Good news rarely needed a reply and the page could go back to his innocuous existence. Had he had an inkling what events were unfolding, he may have changed his opinion.

“Gentlemen,” Keeling began as he pushed his chair back “ I have a top priority situation to attend to. I bid you good day.”

The usual pleasantries and last second haggling took place as the SecNav made his way to the door. While the delay annoyed him his growing anticipation carried his mood through the ordeal. Today was the day he would secure his place in history. Nothing could dampen his fervor.

 

Jim DeSalvo sat at his assigned terminal and drummed his fingers. Once again he was waiting. The ovoid had gone silent after its flurry of activity and now sat there inert, like a large lump of metal. The instruments had not fluctuated once since his communing with it and he was getting impatient. The people above his paygrade wanted results from him. How he was supposed to get them he didn’t know so here he sat keeping vigil.

“Nothing, still?” Commander Farrell asked her voice soft as silk.

Shaking his head, sitting back and stretching, Jim replied with a shake of his head.

“Well, sailor, tomorrow is another day. We’ll get it then. Care for a bit of dinner?”

Her smile dazzled Jim. On one hand, Jim knew the Navy’s rules about fraternization. On the other hand Erin Farrell was one of the most interesting women he had ever met. Just slightly on the tall side, her slender build looked amazing in her daily uniform. She clearly found time for the gym and made sure to eat right. Still, what was the protocol here?

“Ma’am, I’m not sure…” His voice trailed off as she beamed.

“Sailor, as of right now, quit with the ma’am crap. My name is Erin and I expect you to use it. Are we clear?

‘Yes, ma…..ummmm, yes Erin, I think so.”

“Good. I have always enjoyed men who can take direction well.” Her grin was impish and enticing.

The pair headed out from the lab and made small talk as they took the elevator to the ground floor. Checking out with the guard on duty Jim followed her to the garage at the back and was surprised when she tossed him her keys.

“I hate to drive, would you?” She smiled at him and he was powerless to refuse.

“which car?” His query fell from his lips as he hit the unlock button and a lone car flashed its lights. 

Not sure what he had expected, the 1971 Mustang fastback was not it. Painted a blue so deep it looked purple and sporting a double white racing stripe the car looked like raw power waiting to be unleashed. Sliding into the car’s immaculate leather interior, Jim inserted the key and turned it. The satisfying purr that came from the engine was like that of a warrior lion and it vibrated both the metal and the bodies with an expectant thrumming.

Giggling, Erin said “If you could only see your face right now. You look like a kid that just discovered candy.”

He slid the car into gear and carefully made his way out of the garage. When he hit the asphalt, the tires were spinning and the rear end swung past center before righting. The couple took off down the street. Both had grins on their faces.

 

At 03:41 something happened. Small at first, barely a blip on one of the monitors keeping tabs on the ovoid, something happened. In slow degrees the electromagnetic field surrounding the object grew stronger. When it reached the first threshold, an alarm alerted the tech on duty. Instantly, his attention was riveted on his display. Not concerned the tech watched the monitor climb almost imperceptibly. Around 04:05 the readings reached another threshold and the tech reached for the phone.

“Thank you, Marlin, I’ll be there ASAP.” Erin Farrell spoke low into her cell phone. “No, no need. I’ll collect DeSalvo on my way in. Be ther in a click.”

As she hung up, she nudged Jim with her hip under the covers. “Let’s go, Jim. Something’s happening at the lab, the ovoid is waking up.”

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, DeSalvo woke quickly. Smiling at each other for just a moment, the pair realized the urgency of the situation and went about washing up and dressing quickly. Stolen looks and smiles still came through the alacrity and the two were smiling broadly as the made it to her car in a mere fifteen minutes. Opening the door for her, Jim pulled her close and stole a deep kiss. Swatting him playfully, she smiled and got into the car. With a sigh, Jim took his place behind the wheel, woke the sleeping beast and drove. Even in the urgency of the moment, the car felt good and responsive. Very much like its owner. Glancing at Erin and feeling the power of the car exhilarated him and he drove faster still.

Under ten minutes from leaving Erin’s military housing, they were checking in at the desk. To the guard’s credit, he didn’t even raise an eyebrow at the couple’s disheveled and concurrent arrival. The seal was well trained, even if he did give Jim a sly wink as the left the table for the elevator. Jim couldn’t help but grin.

In the lab, Erin reverted to the Commander and took charge as Jim took his station and started checking readings. The tech on station had already supplied hot coffee to the new arrivals and both were grateful. The ovoid started glowing softly and an electric hum permeated the air. Many of the readings had already leveled out to where they were pre-incident. A few seemed to be stalled at a lower level but one stood out. The EM band was off the charts. The instrument panels were all shielded to withstand the EM pulse of a nuclear blast. This was a very good thing. Had they not been, the forty or fifty million dollars or equipment would be so much scrap metal right now. Erin wondered just how long even the built in shielding could take, so made a decision.

“Let’s put up the portable barriers and keep this thing contained a bit.”

“Aye, sir.” Came the combined reply from Jim and the tech.

Working quickly, the two pulled the panels from the hidden closet and set them up. Immediately the people felt a pressure lessen. And the localized monitors showed a marked decrease outside the shields.

By 07:25 the readings had stopped moving on the dials and seemed to be steady. Nothing was in a dangerous level and the rest of the team of techs had been collected and were present. Everyone started to breath again and fell into the daily routine. There was plenty of coffee flowing and they discussed the possible meanings of their particular readings. In time, the discussion turned from the mechanical to the physical. Inevitably, it came down to one thing. Was Jim DeSalvo going to touch it again?

“Mister DeSalvo, can I see you in the conference room, please.” Erin’s voice cut through the excitement of the discussion.

Standing, the sailor followed the Commander to the secured room.

After the door clicked shut with an audible hiss, Erin’s shoulders sagged. Her eyes spoke volumes as she spoke. “I can’t ask you to do this. We have no idea what could happen if you touch it again.” Her voice was that of command, her eyes were those of a woman.

A sad smile came to Jim’s face. She was leaving the choice to him.

“I know Commander.” Her face looked wounded by his use of her title. “I also know what I would be risking…Erin. But how else can we hope to find out anything more? You and I both know we’ve gotten all the information we can from the sensors.”

Commander Erin Farrell’s face showed multiple emotions as she thought through the options. The last was resignation and Jim knew she had come to the same decision. He smiled and took her in his arms. This room was secure. No one could see them. He kissed her slowly and thoroughly. The moment needed to be savored as if it were the last, so he did. Kissing her nose as they parted, DeSalvo took her face in his hands and smiled at her. She smiled back.

“You better not die, mister. That’s an order!”

They both laughed at that and collected their wits. When they both had straightened up and gotten back to their “serious” faces, they left the room together.

The group of techs was standing together near the entrance to the shield wall circling the ovoid. Clearly they had been debating options and no one had come up with a better one than was last presented. They all looked apologetically at Jim.

“No need to look so glum, boys. It didn’t kill me last time and hey, you only live once, right?”

The tension broke as smiles spread across the faces and YOLO was murmured amongst the men. The light mood was not completely shared by Erin. She tried not to let it show but her eyes looked dull and resigned.

The group took up their stations and Jim waited with Erin by his side. After a few minutes the Commander called out the ready status and each tech responded his readiness.

Erin looked into Jim’s eyes and laid a hand on his arm.

“Are you sure?”

Jim’s nod was almost imperceptible and he wanted to kiss her again. The situation was not right, so he took a deep breath.

 “Ready, willing and able, ma’am.” He winked at her and she smiled.

As he parted the shield wall to step in the Commander turned away and took up station herself. The air crackled with static again as the crease opened. The tingling ran across his skin as Jim stepped closer to the ovoid.

 He reached out.

Long one today, enjoy!

Static electricity made the hair on Jim’s arms stand up as he approached the ovoid. An ozone smell, sweet yet metallic permeated the air. Time seemed to compress as he took steady small steps toward the object. The soud of a heart, his own, pounded in Jim’s skull. His mind raced with all the possibilities of what was to happen. Not all the thoughts were good. The possibility that he would ot be breathing much longer weighed on his mind like a anchor on the sea bottom. Steeling his mind Jim swallowed hard and moved forward to make contact.

As his fingers touched the cold metal of the ovoid his mind closed in a bright flash behind his eyes. The world was gone in a supernova explosion. Electricity coursed up his optic nerve causing a vision of a titanic rending of the world. The universe came apart in DeSalvo’s mind, expanded at light speed then coalesced even faster. When the world came back, well, it didn’t actually come back but something did, every nerve sung with energy. Jim looked around at the hazy white world surrounding him. His senses felt funny, like maybe he was thinking through a filter of some sort. A thick, viscous fuzzy filter.

 

“Hey, Jim, how’s it going?” the deep voice rang in DeSalvo’s ears.

Jim turned his head to the sound. The world took a second to catch up. There stood Chief Petty Officer Roman Crandall. His six foot frame had grown considerably. Standing approximately eight feet in height now and sporting skin with a pale gold hue, the color of sunshine through a dusty window, he resembled the figure of a Greek god.

 

“Snap out of it, dipshit! I have a few things I need you to do, I’d really like to come home.” the amused voice boomed, and Jim did snap out of it. Then, he listened.

 

The Secretary of the Navy was on his way to White Sands, New Mexico. Officially, he was there for a conference o the effectiveness of the new HARP missiles. In fact, he was on his way to an installation UNDER the main buildings. A facility that strangely resembled an installation presently engaged in the study of a brass-colored ovoid. In fact, they were exactly the same. The same that is, except this one’s ovoid had been nuked and was presently inert. Presently being the key word. The Secretary smiled to himself as he read the latest updates and the jet began its descent. Politics was a great game, a real hoot, this was real power.

 

Tallia the Unseen awoke slowly. Her consciousness climbing from the darkness into a full white, blank room, the small female took stock of herself. Clearly, she was no longer completely alive. Her body was that of her young self, the self she was before the augmentation. She no longer felt the pain that wracked her augmented body or the aggression that forced her into a mad frenzy when she battled. The sorrow was still there, however. The sadness that she had been tossed away by her own people still weighed heavy on her heart. She was worth nothing more than yesterday’s garbage because she would never produce another generation. I her whole life, no one had ever shown her the least modicum of compassion. No one until the human warrior had come. In an instant of compassion, he had won her complete loyalty. Tallia knew she would follow this man to the ends of the universe if need be. He was like a god from her people’s past. Even the hideous worm-thing treated him as his master.

“Indeed, he is that and much more.” Came the voice of  Kars Sharter in her head.

Tallia started and turned looking for the beast.

“Fear not, female. I would not harm you.” The strange voice went on “The Roman Crandall has placed you under his protection and I offer mine as well. What your people did was unconscionable. Your strength shines as a beacon of nobility.”

Tallia relaxed as the sincerity of the though came through. A moment later, the twelve foot worm-like creature came into view before her. Slowly it moved toward her. When it came close, she saw the appendages on it’s bent body, small heavily muscled legs. It stood in front of her, then bowed low. Tentatively,she put her hand out and touched Kars on the side of his head. The feeling was not unpleasant for either of them.

In the back of his mind, Roman watched the scene unfold and smiled to himself. He had taken the lives of these creatures out of necessity. Earning their loyalty had been essential to both his welfare and sanity. Deep inside, he even thought the AI approved. Roman had other things to work on right now, though, so he turned his mind back to the arcane communications array and began attatching the unique power supply from Tallia’s ship.

The AI had theorized that the increased flow of constant power could make the emergency beacon a viable two-way radio of sorts. Carefully, they worked together to integrate the circuitry and programming to become compatible. It proved to be easier than thought as the nature of the ship was to assimilate and integrate new technologies. Integrating the simple, elegant even, power sphere made for short work.

“Now, we just have to hope someone answers the phone.” Mused Crandall.

The AI had learned not to reply to the rhetorical statements and remained silent. From the captain’s chair in the bridge, the ship had become a full sized battle cruiser, Roman let the bio-electrical tendrils from his fingers integrate with the ship. Pushing his consciousness into the programming, he started the communications array and waited. It was with a shock he found someone waiting for him in a room much like the one the AI created for him to communicate in. Jim DeSalvo was there. He looked a bit bewildered, but there he was.

“How’s it going, Jim?” Roman asked bemused.

Not getting a reply, he turned to command mode. “Snap out of it dipshit! I have a few things I need you to do, I’d really like to come home.”

Commander Erin Farrell watched with growing concern as the monitor in front of her registered some very odd energy readouts. Some of the readings made no sense. Had they been accurate, the entire complex would be glowing like a Christmas tree in front of a couple of searchlights. Shaking her head as she concentrated, her worry for Jim DeSalvo trying to push her rational thoughts out of her head, the information still did not make sense. According to the readings the ovoid was inert. It was doing nothing but sitting there idle yet Jim hadn’t moved. Her eyes kept darting to the video feed that hadn’t changed for four hours now. The scene was exactly the same. Jim stood there, arm, extended, fingertips touching the brassy ovoid. A light blue sheen of energy surrounded his body. It just didn’t make any sense.

CPORoman Crandall began filling Jim in on the construction of the ovoids, their history and their purpose. At least as far as he could figure that out. The communication was like a blend of talking, telepathy and computer streaming. Roman introduced his companion sentients to Jim and was surprised at the aplomb he showed. Apparently DeSalvo had always believed in aliens and was just glad they weren’t trying to “eat his face.” Crandall wondered how he would have liked seeing Kars and his people in person.

 It seemed easier at times to let the AI stream the details and at others to speak them out loud. That struck Roman as odd as he knew this place was just a digital construct of his mind. It really should have made no difference at all but seemed to. Jim, after his first shock, seemed to be able to focus better and was even helpful with some of the details. He caught things that Crandall didn’t with his technical background and recent study of the objects. In the end, however, it was the sentience of Tallia that made the difference. Deadlocked on how to activate the ovoids defense systems and ride the link home, she suggested that rather than threaten the ovoid, they might infect it from within.

“It seems much like an egg. Pressure from without can be withstood for a great deal of time. Pressure from within will crack it almost instantly. They are run by an AI, perhaps it could be persuaded?” Tallia had wondered.

“If not persuaded, maybe tricked.” Jim replied after a moment’s thought.

After consulting the AI Jim had come up with a basic plan to introduce new stimuli to the earthbound ovoid making it call for help. Roman’s AI had supplied the necessary code bits and triggers to start the ball rolling. Tallia’s portable power source plans were simple enough to understand and Jim felt confident he could rig a simulacrum on Earth. Kars’ input was for strategy and timing. He pointed out that a celestial event could be used as a timer to synchronize the plan. That proved problematic until Kars reminded Roman of the onboard weapons array and how powerful it had become.

Karsinstructed the group, “Pick a fair sized asteroid and vaporize it. The power flash will travel at a constant speed and when it hits your planet’s visibility, we go.”

Afterwards it had seemed so simple, yet no one but Kars had thought of it. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Roman wondered if the others were taking over some of his mind’s duties. He was not comforted when Kars’s chuckled in reply.

Wrapping up the planning and double-checking the timing. Jim and Roman decided that they had come up with a viable strategy. They said their repective goodbyes and were preparing to sever the link when a sobering thought occurred to them.

“Hey, just for the sake of argument, what happens if another one of these vessels gets to Earth first?” Jim asked.

Roman and Jim both noticed the worry in the AI’s silence for a moment before it responded. “In such an event the other one would cease transmitting the emergency message and we would resume our original course. That is not, however, the worst case scenario. When the beacon is triggered, it is possible for the progenitor to notice.”

“The progenitor?” Asked Jim.

Roman lowered his head and pursed his lips. After a brief pause he willed the information stream about the ovoid’s birth open and let Jim see the immense thing that sat somewhere in the universe like a Leviathan consuming the matter around it. He showed Jim the face of what could only be evil as its tentacles spread across distances measured in light years. The image of the immense being shook Jim’s resolve for a moment. The entire solar system didn’t match the size of one the creatures millions of eyes and they were risking waking it?

“Yeah, that’s about the size of it.” Roman responded to the errant thought.

Worries and fears made the rounds of the minds connected for a moment before their determination slowly resurfaced. Bolstered by the camaraderie of the others, each of them found the courage to move forward and began their preparations.

“Ok, Jim, I’m counting on you. I’d really like to be home for Christmas.” Roman smiled as he shook the other man’s hand.

“I’ll do my damndest, Chief. Count on that,” was Jim’s only reply.

A moment later, like someone just switched off a light, James DeSalvo was back on Earth. His arm was stiff from the inactivity, his mouth was dry and he had a whopper of a headache. That was all he remembered before he saw the concrete floor rush up to meet him.

 

Commander Farrell was the first to see the motion. That only made sense as she had not taken her eyes of the monitor for hours. Bolting upright, she ran into the shielded compound and was at Jim’s side before his forehead hit the ground. Wincing at the crack his skull made, she went to her knees and cradled the sailor’s head.

“Jim….Jim. Snap out of it!” She cajoled him as she slapped his cheeks lightly trying to get his attention.

Her mind flew in a thousand directions of worry and responsibility as she worked to bring him back to consciousness. Split between being a woman and being a Commander she focused on Jim. Relief overwhelmed her when his eyelids fluttered. Emotion pushed all logic out of her mind when he looked up and smiled. The official record showed that Commander Erin Farrell performed mouth to mouth resuscitation on Jim. The truth is she kissed him. She kissed him long and hard and heedless of who was watching. Her heart soared when he kissed back.

 

The Secretary of the Navy’s flight landed without incident and he was delivered to the White Sands base in as much blandness as possible. History sometimes changes in silence rather than in the cacophony of destruction.

Making his way through the maze of tunnels below the main facility, Keeling found the elevator he was looking for secreted in a false wall next to the women’s barracks. He was quite sure the workmen who had fabricated this tunnel helped themselves to a few voyeuristic moments while they built in secret. That was not his concern at the moment, however. Right now he needed an update from his other base to compare with the information he would be getting from this one in mere moments. The thought that not only could he soon be speaking with this alien probe but perhaps be controlling it, gave him gooseflesh. His mind staggered at the power he would wield. He truly would be a master of the universe.

The doors to the elevator opened and he was greeted by a tall woman with an inviting smile. In different circumstances, he knew he would pursue the leggy blonde and, most likely, catch her. Sadly, in this case, he needed to stay focused so shelved any thoughts of dalliance.

“Do you have an update for me?” The SecNav asked perfunctorily.

Not used to men regarding her so lightly, Bridgette took a moment before responding. “Yes, Mr. Secretary.” She flashed her million dollar smile at him and handed over the folio she had brought for him.

Unable to resist her invitation a second time the SecNav commented “You have a wonderful smile, Miss…..” He faltered not seeing a name badge.

“Bridgette, Mr. Secretary. Bridgette Morrow.” Her third flash of a smile in five minutes. This man was making her work for her compliments.

“Thank you, Miss Morrow. If you would be so kind as to escort me to the conference room,” Keeling pointed the way with the folio and enjoyed the view as she walked in front of him. He knew his focus was now lost but cared little. Every king needed a queen after all. Lost in thoughts much lower than the heavens the SecNav found the walk all too short and promising himself a nice dinner and, perhaps, dessert he bid the young lady farewell making sure he got her card first.

Entering the Spartan room brought the man’s thoughts back to the task at hand. The bland light blue walls and steel accotrements reminded him he was here for a purpose. The seven men waiting for him there helped a bit also. Their faces were somber and had the air of a bird of prey looking for its next meal. Keeling was not only not going to be their victim, he was about to be their sovereign.

“Gentlemen, thank you for coming,” Keeling started the meeting as he strode to the sideboard to pour himself a cup of coffee. “I am about to share some information with you that is well beyond top secret. I have hand picked you as my,” Keeling searched for the right word, “liaisons in an important matter.”

 As he sipped the steaming sludge based Navy coffee he adored so much, the SecNav pressed a button and curtains covering the one wall fell back. As they did, the inert ovoid came into view. The men looked uniformly unimpressed. Keeling was a bit disappointed. He had hoped for a few opened jaws or gasps. But the cool reception should have made sense. After all, they had no idea what the thing was.

Smiling to himself the SecNav explained. “This is an alien object. One who’s history is tied to the rise and fall of empires and the rushed development of atomic technology. Right now it sits here inert but I assure you it has a vast power contained within. Enough power to withstand a nuclear blast in fact.” Keeling was  satisfied that the bored looks were disappearing and interest took root in the men. “Gentlemen, this one object could change the face of the Earth as we know it.”

The men looked skeptical as the Secretary talked so he tossed the folio he had been carrying with him on to the table. The photos of Jim DeSalvo and the other object scattered around the flat surface into plain view. Interested now, each of the men picked up the pictures and short reports to peruse.

The level of noise began to rise to a fever pitch before a muscular bald marine asked “What the hell is this thing and what are we supposed to do with it?”

“My intentions for you men are to act as a personal guard for this object and myself. There ma come a time when some “not-so-progressive” politicians attempt to dissuade me from my intended course of action. I will need you men to keep them busy with other projects and issues.” Keeling eyed the room and not one set of eyes looked away. That was a good sign. “As for the ovoid, I intend to wake it up.”

It was at that very second, millions of miles away, an asteroid ceased to be solid rock and became so many atoms littering the cosmos. The flash of light that destroyed it was brilliant. It was also bound by the laws of physics. It would take some time to reach Earth. In fact, it would be visible December 21st at just after midnight. Coincidentally, that’s the same day the Mayan calendar ends

Hey guys, hope you're enjoying the story. I have a new project starting in January so am going to try to finish up this month! Thanks for reading.

Bridgette Morrow smiled to herself. She knew The SecNav was hers for the taking now and take him, she would. Her mother had not spent all that money on her looks and training to let her stay a simple clerk attatched to the back offices of the US Navy. She was going to be someone.

James Keeling smiled as well. The assembled group of military might, possibly enough to perform a coup of the government itself if he so chose, debated amongst themselves the ramifications of what Keeling had shown them. No fools, these men were jockeying for positions of power. He appreciated the irony that most of these men had been his superior at one time or another. Yet, here they sat, like dogs begging at his feet.

“Gentlemen, why don’t we get a closer look at the object.” Keeling suggested.

Rising from his chair the looks on the faces of these battle-hardened men spoke volumes. They were afraid. If Keeling had knowledge of what the atomic blast had done to the ovoid, he would have been as well.

On July 15th, 1945, the ovoid that they were now approaching was fully functional and was trying to make contact. To protect itself the object created an electromagnetic annihilation field. The field was designed to be seen by the bulk of the sentients of the universe as a shimmering bubble of silver light. This gaudy precaution was to act as a warning to the sentients to keep their distance. Unfortunately, man cannot see in the particular range of light that was chosen. This minor flaw in planning proved tragic when a technician walked blindly into it and instantly evaporated. The tech’s demise was recorded by several video cameras from several angles. Theswe videos were compiled and sent on to the “brass” who, in turn, sent it on to the president.

As a matter of note, the decision to use the only atomic device on the ovoid was one of the fastest in American history to travel the chain of command and back. On July 16, 1945 an atomic device was detonated on the ovoid just before 0530. The hope was to completely destroy all traces of the ovoid. That particular mission failed.

The approximately twenty kiloton blast was impressive and became the pinnacle of destructive power with which the send world war was forever changed. The ovoid, however, survived. Mostly. The resulting electromagnetic pulse was far greater than was expected. Most of the recording equipment on the base was compromised, so too was the programming inside the ovoid. The AI that the object was equipped with rivaled the thought patterns and processes of a living brain. Like a living brain, if you scramble the engrams enough, the brain no longer functions correctly. In effect, the blast had turned the ovoid’s organized thoughtful AI into an insane machine, a very powerful insane machine.

 As the Secretary of the Navy spoke to the assembled high ranking military officials Jim DeSalvo was lying on a military issue cot letting the pounding in his head subside. Though his head felt like a thousand marines were running over his brain, he still noticed the warm, comfortable feel ofErin’s hand in his.

“How long?” Jim croaked weakly. Jim closed his eyes and thought. The effort caused fireworks across his frontal lobe and he thought about just going to sleep. Before he could finish that thought, his encounter withCPOCrandall and the “others,” he had no better name for them, came crashing back in minute detail. It was if the event had been inscribed on his brain. It certainly felt as if someone had carved the scene there. The only comfort from the pain was the realization that he would not forget the details to what he needed to do. With all the effort he could muster, Jim forced the pain from his mind and tried his best to drift into a fitful sleep. The warmth ofErin’s hand helped quite a bit as his mind accepted and processed the information so recently burned into it.

For her part,Erinsat patiently letting her feminine instincts control her outward appearance. Inside, however, the commander was at work evaluating the events of the last few hours. Clearly Jim was able to make contact with the ovoid again. This time he paid a fairly high physical price for his trouble.  What troubled her was the way it seemed to need complete control of Jim to function. His entire body had basically shut off for the time with no major adverse side effects. The technology suggested a work around for suspended animation and opened the door for numerous medical and tactical possibilities. If they could crack the code that this thing possessed, who knows what the future could hold.

 

 

The blast that destroyed the small asteroid was spectacular. NoHollywoodspecial effects man could have dreamed of what would be the outcome of a particle moving at supercollider speed wrapped inside a high intensity laser would be. Because of that they never could have imagined a rock the size of theEmpireStateBuildingimploding and exploding at the same time. The spectrums of light that were given off were of such unique beauty it redefined the word “art” for Roman Crandall. The charged dust particles flowed outward at the speed of light before forming a glowing corona thousands of miles across.

 As planned, the light from the explosion began it’s long journey toward the planet Earth. Upon reaching the little blue sphere the event would be recorded as a minor explosion in the vastness of space. No record of the annihilation would ever exist. Only roman was witness to the spectacle as his ship sped away from the epicenter on its predetermined path.

As Crandall’s attention was directed toward the spectacle Tallia the Unseen was learning. Accessing the memories she could and filling in with information from the AI, Tallia memorized the commands and controls of the ship that were available to her. Locked out of many of the main systems she made some minor mods to the efficiency of the data and rerouted some others to give her a modicum of emergency controls. This man, this human, had shown her the only kindness she could remember in her life. She was going to be prepared to save him at any cost should the need arise.