ERO

by F. P. Dorchak

  “DEFSMAC,” Morrow continued, “our cover organization under NSA, is a real organization with its own mission, and all I’m telling you, everything—absolutely everything that is said and done in here—is highly classified and compartmentalized. Not everyone in this unit knows about what we do here, or what goes on inside here, and we like to keep it that way.

  “Anyway, DEFSMAC was formed on 27 April, 1964, as a result of the Cuban Missile Crisis, to evaluate any and all foreign missile activity and threats. Not unlike your Space Wing at Cavalier, et cetera. But where they differ from the Air Force’s standard missile warning units is that DEFSMAC also deals with intel and technologies. It’s an ‘all-source’ intelligence agency, using listening posts, early warning satellites, human agents, and even seismic detectors to monitor any and all foreign space and missile events.”

  “Cool,” Cherko said.

  “They see all kinds of stuff. All kinds.” Morrow stared off into space for a moment. “By now you’re probably wondering what our organization’s actual name is. Our name is actually more sensitive than the others I just mentioned. We’re relatively new, and you, despite your tickets—”

  “Tickets?”

  “Your clearance accesses. Despite your accesses, you don’t have the need to know about its origins. Our unit, which is unique—the only one of its kind on the planet—is called ‘ERO,’ or the Exoatmospheric Reconnaissance Organization.

  Once Morrow had said that, an operator hit a switch, and the blank center screen lit up with the unit’s vibrant and multicolored emblem displayed. It consisted of two golden satellite “polestars” orbiting the Earth, a glowing moon just visible off to the right. Meteoroids hurtled toward Earth above these two polestars, while off to the left a single star-like object shone against a stunning nebula pattern of space matter. In the center, a silver delta-like object intercepted the meteoroids. At the top were the words IN TÉNEBRIS.

  Cherko grinned. “Man, that is the coolest emblem I’ve ever seen. What’s the Latin mean?”

  “‘Into the darkness.’ We don’t wear patches for obvious reasons, but we do like our emblem,” Morrow said, nodding absentmindedly and tapping a highly polished combat-booted foot as he stared at the design.

  “Okay. Now, our operating location at Falcon was purely opportunistic,” Morrow said, breaking away from the ERO coat of arms. “It was never planned to stand up a unit out here, but extra funding and other decisions factored in, and the move was quick and immediate upon ground breaking. I’m told work was done at night until the shell was sealed underground.

  “So, what we have here,” Morrow continued, as he took Cherko forward, “are the operator consoles. All consoles, as you can see, are sectioned off by blinders. As we talked about compartmentalization, it goes down to individual operator level. Each operator is only concerned with their display. Any events at a specific operator’s console are not to be viewed by any other operator—anyone else except the Crew Commander. Is that understood?”

  “Yes.”

  “Each operator has their basic Earth Display, as you can see, here, which constantly—24/7—displays real-time data.”

  “Real time?”

  “Yes.”

  “Interesting.”

  “We’ll get to that in training.”

  “Gotcha.”

  “So, we watch things—Jerry,” Morrow said to an operator at the center command dais behind them, “could you activate the main screens, bitte?”

  A lieutenant selected a switch or two, and there, above them and on the screens to either side of the organizational seal, showed a chunk of rock.

  Morrow eyed Cherko.

  “We also watch for asteroids, meteoroids, comets, decaying satellites... that kind of thing.”

  “You gotta be kidding.”

  “We look inside and outside our orbit. There have been a couple near-misses over the past few years—real ones, close ones—chunks of space debris from the asteroid or Van Oort belts—”

  “How close?”

  Morrow grinned. “Whizzing past the Earth like a grazing bullet, my friend—way inside our lunar orbit.”

  “Holy shi—”

  “But that doesn’t mean we were in any real danger—but that’s how we like it. We just keep an eye on things, is all, and notify the right agencies if we see anything.”

  “What do we do if we do see something coming our way?”

  Cherko noticed a couple console operators briefly turn an ear toward them then return to their screens.

  “We just run it on up the chain, Lieutenant, and that’s all you need to know. At least as long as you work in here.”

  Cherko grimaced.

  “This display over here,” Morrow continued, pointing to the telemetry display of letters and numbers, “is the telemetry display for the specific satellite used in the Earth Display screen I just mentioned. We have a couple of them. These screens make sure they’re all A-OK, healthwise. This covered screen,” he next pointed to, “will be disclosed upon reaching your need-to-know authorization during training.”

  “Roger,” Cherko acknowledged. “Can I ask a question?”

  “Depends.”

  “Why DEFSMAC? I know what you just said, but, what’s really wrong with the Air Force’s basic missile warning capabilities?”

  “From what I know, and unofficially, the intelligence community didn’t want NORAD messing around in technologies it didn’t understand, let alone in evaluating raw data. As you’ll find out, there’s a lot of pissing around on each other’s organizational fences in this world. Everyone’s always trying to one-up everyone else and think they’re more important than the next guy. Organizations are so damned compartmentalized that no one really knows what the other is doing, and, yes, not that I know everything, only a handful of people do—way, way above us—but there does happen to occasionally be a duplication of effort. But They Who Has the Big Bucks gets their way, especially cause no one trusts anyone else. And DEFSMAC does deal with a little more than the Air Force’s standard missile warning centers.”

  “All right...”

  “But nobody does what we do. Nobody. We’re it. We’re all watching the Earth to make sure no one blows it up, are the final call, and I’m all for as many agencies as it takes to keep that from happening. We all are.”

  “Can’t argue with that,” Cherko said.

  “One other thing. It’s standard operating procedure that from time to time we have... ‘guests.’ Said ‘guests’ come from other organizations-to-remain-nameless, looking for and giving special tasks to our unit. Whichever operator is chosen by these guests is not to ask any questions, make any small talk, and are to do exactly as directed. All other operators on duty are not to give them the time of day while these ‘guests’ are on the floor. Which means keeping your nose glued to your own beeswax and workstation. We also call them something else, which is never to be uttered in their presence, though we secretly think they like the term. We call them ‘spooks.’

  “Got it?”

  His face emotionless, Cherko nodded. “Yes.”

  “Okay, that’s the overview. We are the premier space watch organization. There is no better, all due respect to PARCS.”

  Cherko snorted.

  “Ready for training?”

  “You bet.”

  4

  Clad in sweats and work-out bag slung over his shoulder, Jimmy made his way to the Holiday Health Club. He entered through the main doors and was immediately immersed into the sound of loud rock music blaring over speakers. All his isolation, of being alone and working out at a remote North Dakota unit, and now at an installation that wasn’t even completely built yet, faded into the background. The high-energy music got his blood pumping and made him feel human again, part of the Human Race.

  Cherko approached the front desk.

  “Hi,” he said to the muscled twenty-year-old on the other side.

  “How can I help you, Buddy?” the guy asked, all tanned,
ripped, and cocky.

  “I’d like to check out your gym,” Cherko said, taking in the familiar sights, sounds, and smells. For the eighteen months he’d been in North Dakota, he’d worked out in a thrown-together empty gymnasium in which he was frequently the only one using it. He’d even had to order his own Power Rack. He hadn’t worked out among people since he left space training, at Lowey AFB, in Denver, two years ago.

  “No problem. Let me get someone to show you around.”

  Cherko nodded, and turned away. He checked out their protein retail, pictures, and lobby trophies.

  “May I help you?” came a female voice.

  Cherko turned to land his gaze directly into the familiar deep, dark eyes of Erica Taylor.

  “You work here?”

  Erica smiled a wide, clearly-glad-to-see-him open-mouthed smile.

  “Glad to see you took me up on my recommendation.”

  Cherko smiled nervously, looked away, then back to her.

  Again found he couldn’t bear to look away from her.

  “Nice to see you do as you’re told,” she added, crossing her arms and shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

  “What can I say? I’m a sucker for a pretty face.”

  “Well, we’ll see about that. Come on... lemme show you around.”

  “I’m sure you will,” Cherko said under his breath, which, he found, surprisingly, suddenly came up short...

  * * *

  Cherko and Erica sat across from each other at a table in a Village Inn. It was dark outside their window, and the remains of dinner sat before them.

  “So, what do you really want to be when you grow up?” Erica asked, playfully twisting a paper napkin.

  Cherko looked out the window past his reflection.

  “I’d always really wanted to be an astronaut. I grew up on Star Trek, and Space: 1999, and all that.”

  “What about space is so interesting? I mean, don’t you think it’d be lonely?”

  “Well, it’s not like it happened for me, but I guess I never thought about that. I just thought about being part of all that high technology and exploration. Adventure. Going where no man—or woman—has gone before, kinda thing. I’ve just always felt drawn there.”

  “Drawn where?”

  “To space. I don’t know. I always felt like it was my calling. That something was calling me there.” He gazed out the window and into the darkness.

  Erica looked down to her now tightly twisted napkin. It abruptly came apart in her hands.

  “What do you want to be when you grow up?” Cherko asked.

  Erica shrugged, looking down to her torn-in-two napkin.

  “I’ve always been fascinated with humans and their wacky behavior.”

  Cherko smirked. “Oh, uh-huh....”

  Erica laughed, looking up.

  “Yeah—I’m an alien, Lieutenant, sent here to keep an eye on you.”

  Erica gazed into Cherko’s eyes. Cherko met her gaze.

  “Really.”

  His foot found one of Erica’s under the table. She didn’t move away.

  “Wow,” Erica said, breathlessly, looking away. She swiped at stray strands of hair and cleared her throat.

  “What’s the matter,” Cherko asked, reaching out to her.

  Erica was about to say something, when she abruptly paused. Cherko took a more solid hold of her hand. So beautiful, so elegant.

  “I...”

  Embarrassed and realizing what he’d done, Cherko pulled away.

  “No, no, don’t... don’t do that,” Erica said softly. She maintained eye contact.

  Cherko looked to her, his hand paused partway across the table. He regrasped her hand, and Erica grasped him back....

  Chapter Five

  1

  First Lieutenant Jimmy Cherko stood before a closed door.

  “This is where your life is about to forever change, Lieutenant. You can never go back.”

  Jimmy looked to the man. He felt off... like something wasn’t right. Hell, Jimmy felt off...

  A door.

  A common enough looking door. Was the whole situation metaphorical enough for him? Surreal?

  Open this door and step out into a new life.

  Would he like it?

  Wish he’d never opened it?

  Change his mind?

  The man, the one he currently found himself staring at, a major—his boss (why was he having so much difficulty thinking)? Had to be, yeah, that’s right. His boss. Major—

  “Take a picture, Lieutenant, it’ll last longer,” the now-grinning man said. “You can still back out—there’s still time. But, once you open that door there’s no turning back. Make your decision, L-T. I can assure you... it’ll be life changing. Belief changing....”

  Jimmy looked back to the door.

  Did he want his life to change?

  Could he handle it?

  Grow up and be a man, for Chrissakes.

  Jimmy reached for the door and

  * * *

  Seven-year-old Jimmy Cherko stood up on a hill behind his house looking out into the woods before him. It was warm and sunny. He liked the way the sunlight reached down through the leafy trees and hit the moist, dark, north country soil. Heard a woodpecker banging on a tree off somewhere deep in the woods. Breezes rustled tree and brush. The air warm.

  Jimmy blinked.

  Deer!

  If they’d been snakes they would have bitten him, his dad would have said, but there they were, right in front of him. Deer have a way of blending in, his dad also said. Their coats, the terrain. Sometimes you’d never know any were around you until a startled movement. But, right now, a whole herd of them were in the trees before him. He could have reached out and touched them....

  Jimmy blinked again.

  Carl and Ritchie. Penny.

  They now stood before him.

  Dang it, they’d scared off the deer!

  Carl, Ritchie, and Penny.

  Jimmy found a sudden confused chill run through him. It was almost—for a second there—as if he didn’t remember having siblings. He had dreams like that... where he woke up and wasn’t sure where he was... or in the dream something was one way, then he woke up and found it another. It often confused him.

  Scared him.

  Carl, Ritchie, and Penny.

  That’s what it felt like now.

  “So, why are you looking at me like that,” Jimmy asked them. “Are we gonna play, or what?”

  They leapt at him in unrestrained glee, shouting and laughing and dancing around him, pushing and pulling.

  “C’mon,” Carl said, “Let’s go exploring! It’s cool up here! I like this place!”

  “Yeah! Hey—what’s that thing over there?” Penny asked. She held Ritchie’s three-year-old hand and pointed to a round gray metal structure back in the trees.

  “I don’t know,” Carl said, “but let’s go look!”

  Carl, Ritchie, and Penny turned and headed off toward the structure. As Jimmy followed, he continued looking for the now-spooked deer, no-doubt now grazing elsewhere. Jimmy’s dad also used to say how, though you could never see them, bucks would always be not too far away. Watching.

  Always watching.

  Jimmy followed his siblings, but as he followed them deeper into the strange new world before them, after having moved here last year, he looked off to his right, and saw his mother.

  Just standing there.

  Looking at him.

  Sad.

  Was this one of her “sleepwalking” episodes again, only during the day?

  And there, behind her... a doe. Looking straight at his mom. Jimmy had to close his eyes and look away to avoid being smacked across the face by a low branch, but he swore the deer nudged his mom from behind. When he looked back the doe was gone.

  As Jimmy continued trudging his way through the woods, snapping small branches underfoot, he noticed something else strange about his mother.

  It was snowing around
her.

  * * *

  Lieutenant Jimmy Cherko sprang fully awake and upright in bed.

  Where was he?

  He quickly swung his legs around the edge of the bed and stood, groggily rubbing at his eyes. Tried to bring his surroundings into focus.

  Where the hell was he?

  An Air Force flight cap. On the dresser.

  Air Force.

  A wave of regret and nostalgia washed over him.

  He was no longer in Lake Clear. No longer in the company of his siblings and mother....

  He was all grown up and working for the government. At his new assignment.

  He sat back down on the bed, head heavy in hands; continued to rub the sleep from his eyes.

  Wake up and be a man.

  2

  Unknown Location, Colorado

  6 November 1985

  0215 Hours Mountain Time

  Cherko sat before the sine-wave training workstation, psyched. He had just—simultaneously—flattened five sine waves?

  “Wow!”

  “Excellent, Lieutenant,” came his instructor’s gentle voice. “Your next lesson is to simultaneously flatten various combinations of sine waves. As each box is highlighted, you are to flatten it.

  “Begin.”

  Boxes two and seven illuminated. The tones associated with both filled his head. Cherko focused on them and easily flattened both.

  Boxes one, six, and ten illuminated.

  Cherko focused on their different tones. He managed to affect ten’s wave first, then saw the other two slowly come around.