by Grover Young
Giving the tankers a wave, I took to the air again. Counting the smaller burning wreckage, it looked as if we had gotten all the 'bots, but I couldn't see any signs of Sheila and the boys.
Making myself think, I climbed as high as the low, snowy clouds would let me and still see. Somewhere out here our Visitor had to have his ride parked. On the ground was out, because one of us monkeys might stumble across it. However, a roof would be perfect. It could be set to just hover and never make contact with the roof at all.
My smile got wide as I spotted the clear circle among all the snow on a roof top. It was too warm for the snow to stick to the spacecraft, and its active camouflage didn't take into account the situation changing because of the weather. Not a mistake a soldier would make, but an academic?
The saucer reminded me of the one from the 'Day the Earth Stood Still' movie. It was super smooth and streamlined with none of the projections and clutter SF movie saucers from after that classic film sported.
Spotting them wasn't hard once I'd narrowed down the area in which to look. Poor Sheila was looking half frozen as she climbed out onto the roof and Mr. Mentat was nearly as bad. The Visitor in his Skins didn't even notice the weather.
Okay let's try this again. As peaceably as I could, I floated down more lightly than even one of the many flakes that were still falling.
This time the Visitor's hand went to his morpher. Well, without his escort 'bots I could see how he might feel a little threatened.
“You're alive!” Sheila damn near took both of us off the roof with her tackle.
Squishing, err, breast things, didn't exactly set my anxiety alarms to ringing, but it was more that I didn't know what to think about the sensation.
“You, you, you're alive!” Mr. Mentat stuttered disbelievingly, “I saw them shoot you with a burner!”
“That's what she said,” I found myself hugging her back. Weird sensations or not, hugs were good. Just being alive was good too.
“While we're at it,” I smiled, “would you mind repeating our request for our Visitor to please leave before something else happens?”
The burning fires reminded me too pointedly that they were funeral pyres of warriors who died believing they were protecting their land and homes. Somehow, I kept from projecting that anger onto our Visitor. I prayed that somehow, some good came of this.
I heard the name 'Tash' again as they spoke.
“You know you're a bit exposed back here don't you?” Sheila rubbed my bare back but made me jump when her hand went lower.
Without thinking, I looked down and of course, found my line of sight blocked by a pair of twin mountains. That did start ringing the alarm bells, but trying to work around it, I used my hands to discover that wasn't the only bare spot. Perhaps my 'front' was covered, but that was about it. One leg was completely nude and the rest of my Skins had tears and holes from being buried and plasma burner blasts. Even my Batman belt was gone.
“Damn it, my wallet and keys were in there,” I cursed softly, not wanting to sour the delicate negotiations taking place. However, at a guess I must have lost the belt right at the beginning when I got shot in the back. With luck, it would still be there.
That line of thought kept me from thinking about just how exposed THIS me was right now. Maybe my tattered uniform covered more than a bikini, but not by much.
All the while Sheila held me, and I felt my heartbeat or whatever was in my chest slow to something like normal.
“He has things to ask you,” Mr. Mentat turned to us.
“You, one of quantum'ed cursed would let me depart?” Tash asked.
“Yes,” I took a deep breath, “there would be nothing to gain and much to lose. You would not surrender. I saw your hand go to your weapon. If that was not enough despite how tempting of a prize you and your ship would make, do you think your shipmates would hesitate to bomb us from orbit to prevent just such an event?”
At his nod of agreement, I continued, “Tonight there are those celebrating being alive and being with the ones they care about. They don't deserve a death, not tonight or any night, but I'll take what I can get. It is far better for you to just leave.”
“But tomorrow is another day.” I smiled as Sheila and I hugged.
He nodded and turned to leave, but stopped.
“Why would you give up the one quantum pattern that in all the universes and dimensions makes you unique?” he asked.
Listening to the science guys gave me something of a clue of what he was talking about.
“Because to keep those we care and love safe, we would dare anything and anyone,” I replied evenly, “You called me cursed, but instead, I say we're warriors, willingly putting ourselves between danger and the ones we're sworn to protect.
“Call us Quantum Warriors if you must.” It was an effort not to grin at that, but not at what came next, “When your people made 'that' purchase, they made a bad decision. I would ask you to think about it and what you have learned of us.”
“I will,” he replied, but then took a hesitating step toward us.
“This is the custom, yes?” He held out his hand.
“Yes, it is,” I took his hand, careful of my strength, “Hello, I'm Halcyon.”
“Hello,” he replied, back, “I'm Tash.”
“Do your people have a similar custom?” I asked, catching Mr. Mentat's attention so he knew he was being included in this.
“If I may?” He asked Tash, who nodded his assent.
“It's similar to the old Roman salute with the fist brought over the heart,” the Dune aficionado explained, “but with the palm turned out to show they bear no weapon. Their arms are articulated a little differently than ours, which makes it a little awkward for us.”
“Our custom had a similar beginning.” I tried out the motion which was as he said not really intended for humans, but I didn't let that stop me.
Gravely, he returned the gesture and nearly made my heart stop, as he touched one of the morphers at his belt.
“You call this Trick or Treat, yes?” his beak like lips made what I think was his version of a smile, “I choose to give a Treat.”
My Skins regenerated right before my eyes as he touched them. Normally, yes, they would self-repair, but not anywhere near this fast. On the other hand, there was a small problem.
“You know that in Earth culture it is the monsters who get the treat or do the trick?” I looked down at him trying to ignore the 'landscape' on my chest.
Our Mentat inhaled sharply in alarm at my insult.
“You have no conception of how my people regard those like yourself who have had their quantum patterns eradicated,” Tash then turned to offer Sheila his hand and introductions.
That was a point I really couldn't argue. Before the war, some of the things Prometheus did to people would be right out of the horror movies. Then again, I'd always cheered for the underdog, the monster, anyway in the old movies.
She just as seriously shook his hand and did the hand over the chest thing.
I think all of this kinda broke our Mentat, but he took Tash's hand and did the Alien salute as if he'd just won a lottery jackpot.
Then, we watched as Tash entered his craft and departed, raising into the falling snow until out of sight, lost in the low heavy clouds.
“I think just maybe we did something very significant here tonight,” Mr. Mentat said, looking up.
I noticed that somewhere in all of this he'd lost one of his fake bushy eyebrows.
“Yes, we did,” Sheila looked up at me as she said it, and I don't think she was thinking about the War.
There was no need for me to say anything so I didn't. I couldn't say I was comfortable as a living female statue, but having her with me made it far less uncomfortable. Plus, I had things to think about... Tash.
Not a Visitor, unwanted Guest, or even a Tweety, but Tash. He had a name and had given it freely. Just maybe we weren't doomed after all.
“Halcyon,” Sheila asked
, using my code name, “you said Project Prometheus just kind of copied your other self in that superhero universe, right? It didn't steal that person's powers or anything did it?”
“Why do you ask?” as we moved off the roof, I could feel the cold even if it didn't set my teeth to chattering.
“It was what he said about losing your unique quantum pattern thing,” she looked so small standing next to me.
“From what I understand, we couldn't have done that even if we wanted.” I did my best to explain what little I understood about it, as I took her in my arms and flew us down.
“We can tap that power in that other universe, but we can't touch the place or anyone in it. Think of a river where you can draw off water as it flows downstream, but you can't fight the current to go further up.” We could see the emergency lights of the rescue crews as I carried her since she made no objections. As a matter of fact, the little minx looked as if she was loving every minute of it.
“How about Schrodingers gig about how even observing an event changes it,” she grinned up at me.
“I really don't know,” Seeing all the activity, made me dread the coming debriefing. This was not going to be fun, “You think Prometheus somehow changed things there?”
We heard our one-brow Mentat trying to catch up with us.
“Not Prometheus,” Sheila smiled, “you, seeing you changed me.”
Pulling my head down, she kissed me, but this time I knew it wasn't just for luck.
Epilogue
One storyteller might describe the place as being in another universe far, far away, but another older spinner of tales would say, “It's though a door opened with the Key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension — a dimension of sound, of sight and of the mind, The Twilight Zone.” A scientist would speak of other dimensions as well, but add in that, in the infinity of universes, this one sat at the very peak of endless possibilities. He might say that it was a marvelous place so filled with energy and potential, but yet, it still allowed life to flourish.
Or he could say, “Screw it! Rod was right!”
Lapis Iazuli opened her jewel eyes. Time had little meaning for her, trapped and bound in this body by the Golem Master. She'd suffered such terrible cruelties that it had broken, no shattered her. The horrifying things that she'd been forced to do had been the final blow that sent the remaining bits of her sanity retreating to the deepest, darkest corners of her mind to hide from the unspeakable, nightmarish memories.
She could hardly remember being male. However, the awful all consuming agony as the evil alchemist tore and rendered that body, her very essence into ingredients to fashion this jeweled prison made of priceless metals, could never be forgotten.
Even her old name was lost to her. Lapis Lazuli was the only one she knew and answered to. She was worse off than a slave who at least had the option to disobey despite knowing they would be punished. Not so for her who was treated like a robot, a machine.
But something had changed. Irregular at first, something had somehow touched her as gently as the softest breeze. The first tickle had somehow healed enough of her splintered sanity to waken her sense of self that had lain buried for so very long. The second had returned her awareness, the ability to reason and think that had been stripped from her, but it was the latest that was truly priceless. She had a measure of free will.
Lapis Lazuli couldn't disobey orders from her dread Master, but anything that wasn't covered by those orders and the commandments that were literally written in the stone that controlled and bound her, was now up to her discretion.
So, very slowly a smile graced her gilded rose-gold lips. No matter how long it took she would bide her time carefully and with great deliberation.
After enduring so much, her anger had long ago burned out, leaving only an icy cold, pitiless purpose. Perhaps much of her memory was hopelessly forever scrambled by the horrendous fate to which she'd been shackled, but this she did recall.
“Revenge is a dish best served cold.”
The Last Thanksgiving
by
Grover Young
10/5/2019
Chapter One
I wearily leaned against the half-buried wreckage smoking in the snowdrift. The twisted and bent hot metal hissed as it melted the ice. Looking up at the sky, the morning darkness had reluctantly yielded to simple murk as the sun rose, hidden by the heavy overcast. Exhausted, I needed all the help I could get just to stand. At my feet, a growing pile of thumb sized rail-gun projectiles were being spilled out onto the icy ground by the destroyed 'bot's auto ammunition supply system, unaware that its services were no longer needed.
Nudging one with my boot, it really sucked to be hit by those damn things. As I was continuing to learn, it was very hard to injure me, but that didn't mean lesser efforts didn't hurt like hell. Not only that, but it was disturbing as all get out to see the golden skin, that passed as my flesh, do this dimply ripple as hypersonic projectiles tore through me and sealed up behind their passage.
I'd nearly died for real the first time it happened. I was so freaked out I changed back to the normal flesh and blood me, Craig Elder. Made just the way my parent's DNA mandated, that me was just so much dead meat in the type of battle Mankind and our invading Visitors were fighting over dear old planet Earth.
Fortunately, I was lucky enough that I hadn't been changed long enough to trigger a 'cool down' delay, and pure fear gave me more than enough help to do my Shazam thing back onto HER, Halcyon. As much as being a seven feet tall woman sculpted out of gold with emerald jeweled eyes and hair spun out of sapphires freaked me out, being dead was even more distasteful.
In the distance, I could hear the sounds of the Third Herd, US Army Third Armor Division, smashing their way through the remains of our Visitor's beach head here in downtown Detroit.
“Welcome to Motor City, boys.” I looked over the white frozen shroud, over the ruins what was once a major metropolis. After the kinetic bombardment and two battles, not much was left standing or otherwise.
I suppose I should just say the gender neutral 'tankers' rather than boys, given nearly as many were women, with losses being so heavy and the drive to put every able bodied person into uniform. Whatever their sex, the Third Herd's tankers crushed what was left after I'd finished taking out the automated command center, putting what 'bots remained of this landing attempt entirely on their own programming.
We had learned the hard way how to take advantage of the 'bots' limited intelligence. They really weren't that smart on their own, and not being in coordination as one big unit, it was much easier to take them out. Of course, our being able to jam our unfriendly Visitors communications really changed things. It wasn't easy and definitely had bugs, like not lasting very long, but we could and did throw a monkey wrench into our unfriendly Visitor's remotely operated invasion.
They responded by sending down these very capable heavily armed and armored 'tank-like Command' units that used 'line of sight' lasers and other means which we couldn't interrupt or interfere with their orders. While still operating on their own, the tanks were a hell of a lot better and smarter soldiers than the 'bots and drones built-in programming. Worse, they also sent along automated factories, auto-facs. If they weren't taken out damn fast, then they would very quickly turn a landing site into a beachhead and then, a fortress teeming with new built war machines.
That was where I came in.
What! Aliens landing in force in the bombed out ruins of Detroit? Send Pantheon Sgt. Elder on a suicide mission!
The Third Herd's M1A5's had our version of the invader's fusion plant and was armed with captured rail-guns. The 'crack' of the hypersonic weapons sounded like so many firecrackers going off as the tankers roared through the Aliens' perimeter.
As nice as the new tech was, the Abrams were still the smallest thing we had that could mount the rail-guns. Our copy of their fusion power plant was just too damn big to fit on anything smaller, and the guns drew that much power.
Additionally, their recoil was a bitch and a half which the M1 was well able to handle.
A flight of A-64 attack birds whizzed overhead, taking the defenders in the back. Those too, used captured tech. In this case, the engines from the enemy's drones that turned the converted AH-64 Apaches attack helicopters into virtual high performance aircraft. That is, very fragile high performance wreckage, if the pilots weren't careful.
I winced as one of the aircraft turned into an expanding ball of plasma as a Visitor aerial drone lit it up with a plasma burner.
Standing up, I took a deep breath of the freezing air. The stench of ozone and burnt metal was thick on the winter morning air. Besides the tank-like wrecked command unit, there were nearly a dozen mangled 'bots and about half that many burning drones. In trying to defend itself, it'd sent every nearby unit it had at me.
It hadn't been enough.
I was really starting to lose my patience about this. After all, this marked my third 'suicide' mission to date. I was beginning to the get the feeling that General Benson was getting a little put out that I had the temerity to survive.
Mind you, I should've died more times than I could count, but when Project Prometheus comes through, it really comes through. Well, except for altering that other ME so greatly that I freaked out every time I tried to use it. That part wasn't so good.
And all I did was go to a Halloween party.
It hadn't even been a month, and I still didn't know how I felt about all that had happened on that snowy evening.
Okay, I'm lying. Sheila had rocked my world to such an extent that she had succeeded where all the shrinks had failed. I'd reached a compromise, if a shaky one, with myself and that golden impossibility I saw in the mirror, Halcyon.
As a man, Craig, the normal me, she and I were friends and I dare say even close. However, apparently Halcyon got her 'motor' running like crazy. Should I be jealous of myself? One part of me wanted to be mad at her. Was she so shallow that she liked Halcyon while ignoring we were the same person?