by Alan Nayes
No sooner had he said this than a second tech left the work station and moved closer to the platform, aiming what to Shelby resembled a speed detector that the police used for speeding motorists. He stood a moment to take a reading, then shouted, “Lieutenant, the thermal imager is lighting up like a Picasso painting!”
The arm rose, carrying Mendle and the sonar tech. Shelby noticed two airmen with rifles also along for the ride.
Mendle shouted back, “Reading.”
The tech adjusted the thermal imager. “Seventy-eight degrees Fahrenheit and rising, but only in the darker zones.”
“Any images?”
He shook his head. “Still unable to penetrate. This is only the UCO’s surface temp, sir.” He aimed in a different spot. “Eighty-one, sir!”
The basket reached the cylinder’s maximum height and inched nearer to the rim, which was now entirely dark indigo. Mendle glanced down, his attention momentarily on Shelby and John, before saying, “You sure we aren’t getting any heat contamination from the platform?”
“No, sir. This is all UCO. Eighty-five Fahrenheit now.”
Shelby briefly watched Mendle and the tech attach a pair of sensors to the cylinder before returning her gaze to the area of the UCO immediately in front of her. She tried penetrating deeper by focusing her vision but only the outermost layer demonstrated the strange translucence. She needed more detail. Her idea again. Black light.
Behind her, another reading. “Eighty-nine degrees!”
“John, I know Mendle mentioned using UV light, but I think we should try it again.” Shelby had used black light many times to study in greater detail the surface nuances of fossils. Much finer external anatomy could be detected. The black light might yield more information on these strange striations she thought she was seeing.
John agreed, saying, “We use it to search for tiny faults in rocks.” No sooner had he relayed the request to Mendle than an airman dashed to the mechanics’ work area near the jets and returned with a fluorescent light and cord. John pressed the ON button until the ultraviolet tube flashed purple. “We’ll have to wait until we can turn off the floodlights.”
“Ninety-one, sir,” the thermal tech called out.
Shelby felt her anticipation rise. “The temp’s still rising,” she murmured, more to herself.
“Nothing up here,” the lieutenant relayed, removing the listening mitts. “Whatever created that acoustic disturbance has grown silent.” Mendle spotted John with the UV light. “Can you hand that up?”
“Want to take a look?”
“Why not?”
“Ninety-three point five.” Another reading. Climbing still.
John waited for the arm to lower enough until he could pass the light up. Mendle pulled the loose cord along and waited while the basket was repositioned. Then he ordered, “Douse the platform lights.”
Darkness dropped over the platform, except for the illumination from the hangar doors, which barely reached the apron. Shelby noticed she was holding her breath as she watched the lieutenant, now eerily bathed in fluorescent purple, lean over the rim. What would they see, if anything?
The silence was palpable. Until someone in the basket cried out, “What the fuck is that?”
Shelby’s eyes darted back to the laptop screen still transmitting from the floating drone.
Reflexively she reached for John’s hand.
Oh…my…God!
CHAPTER 4
Shelby would never forget the very first thought that entered her mind when she initially realized what she was observing on the laptop screen—and never would, even long after the “event” came to its ultimate conclusion in the dead of winter months from now.
It was quite simple really.
This huge unidentified cylindrical device dragged from an arctic glacier was standing upside down! How did she know this with such certainty?
Because of the feet!
She was still staring at the grainy image when the platform lights came back on. The laptop image dissolved back to indigo. She felt John nudge her. “Mendle’s waiting.”
Shelby shook some other thoughts from her mind—mostly the ones involving reasoning and rationalization because what she was witnessing really was far beyond anything she or anyone else had ever dug from the ground—and glanced at the basket. The crane pilot had lowered it and she watched the lieutenant waving at her impatiently. “Shelby, John, I need you up here.” He returned to his radio, speaking rapidly, and though Shelby didn’t exactly hear the exact words, she sensed it had to do with heightened security and safety. For whom, or what? she wondered uneasily. Yet she knew she wouldn’t have missed this moment for the world.
The basket started with a jerk before rising smoothly. Shelby stole a quick look at the four cameras that had been taping since the UCO had been chopper delivered to the base almost two weeks ago, before turning her attention to the approaching rim, briefly wondering what she would do if she saw a huge head suddenly rise into view. She stole a quick glance at one of the young airmen holding an automatic weapon. He returned a nervous smile. Yeah, it’s cool.
She hoped it was.
Mendle was nearest the rim. “Let him get us a little closer. Then you can try to tell me what the hell I’m looking at.” He was gazing at both John and Shelby, but Shelby quickly realized his words were directed solely at her. Why me? Yet she knew. Because she had seen the grainy images, too. And she was the animal specialist.
The basket stopped level less than six inches from the cylinder’s nine o’clock rim, if the platform stairs were considered noon, and hovered in place. The drone’s tiny whirring electric motors sounded like an isolated swarm of angry bees only a few feet from her head.
“Careful,” John said as Shelby leaned over the basket’s safety railing. Mendle would hold the UV light so she could get a good look at the entire topside surface.
This close, Shelby could easily pick out the subtle wave forms of color undulating just under the object’s surface, but nothing else. She picked out a floodlight beam reflected in the moving waves. But it was the black light that allowed them to not only detect greater detail, but actually see inside. For some unfathomable reason the ultraviolet wavelengths were able to penetrate, if only a little, whatever super-dense material the UCO was made of.
“Lights,” the lieutenant called out.
Darkness engulfed the entire cylinder except that which was illuminated in purple.
Shelby heard John mumble an exclamatory curse.
She could only stare in stunned silence. If the laptop video feed had been powerful, what she now witnessed was a nuclear explosion in imagery. “I hope you’re getting all this on camera,” she heard herself say.
She didn’t hear Mendle’s reply because all her senses—sight, sound, smell—had suddenly been sucked into the vivid void of what she was witnessing.
Just under the cylinder’s surface rested the soles of the largest pair of primate feet she had ever seen—living or fossilized!
“You sure it’s a primate?” Mendle asked while intently watching the military crane operator attach a heavy metal chain around the lower third of the giant cylinder, which remained dull alabaster gray. Only the upper half had transformed to the deep indigo, though thick runnels of dark color continued to drift toward the inferior end. None had yet to reach the lower rim. Was gravity pulling it down? No one had any idea.
Shelby watched too, cognizant of an anticipation inside she’d never experienced before, not even when she’d assisted in the discovery of a never-before-seen extinct primate species of the Papio genus—baboons—in eastern Mongolia four years ago. Even the partial juvenile skeleton of an as yet unknown prehistoric primate back in her temporary lab in Fairbanks didn’t compare—unless that skeleton suddenly got up and moved. No, tonight was unparalleled. She shifted to get a better view of the mechanical operation unfolding on the platform. They were going to turn the cylinder right side up.
“Yes, primate, one hundred percent,” she replied to the lieutenant’s query. The operator, assisted by three other airmen, next wound a second chain around the upper third of the UCO. Armed personnel had moved off the platform but a heavy guard presence remained surrounding the apron. She sensed her pulse rate still racing sky high as she assumed was everyone else’s who’d witnessed what she’d seen.
As soon as the feet had been seen, photographed, and measured, the lieutenant had ordered the cylinder righted based on what she’d hypothesized. She could be totally off base as well. What if only feet had been isolated in the strange object? Or lower extremities? Or just separate body parts? Yet some innate feeling told her she had been correct in her assumption. Whatever was preserved inside was presently standing on its head—and complete.
Whatever was preserved inside. Ever since the feet had been seen through the outer layer of the UCO, that’s all everyone in the hangar had been speculating about.
Mendle strode toward the platform workstation. He spoke briefly to a tech and returned. “The temp has stabilized at ninety-five point nine degrees Fahrenheit. Hasn’t changed in the last thirty minutes.”
John commented, “Even back on the glacier, after immediately removing the cylinder from the ice which registered thirty-two degrees, the surface temp of the UCO never dropped below seventy-one.”
“And until only a little over an hour ago, it remained seventy-one,” the lieutenant said.
“Ninety-five point nine,” Shelby repeated.
“Is that particular number significant?” Mendle asked without taking his eyes off the ongoing procedure taking place on the platform. A large hydraulic-lift-type hook now attached the two parallel chains.
“Frankly, I believe everything we observe from this night on regarding the UCO will become significant,” Shelby replied, “but yes, ninety-five point nine degrees can be considered very important, though it might only be an odd coincidence.”
“How so?”
Shelby explained, “Considering the core body temperature of humans and chimps is ninety-eight point six, the ninety-five point nine degrees would fall much closer to another great ape that is alive today—the gorilla.”
Mendle shot her a look of pure astonishment. “Are you insinuating that—”
“Of course not, Lieutenant,” Shelby interrupted. “Whatever is locked in that…cylinder is preserved. Nothing mammalian could survive thousands of years no matter what the circumstances were.”
Mendle allowed a wan smile. “We’re assuming it is mammalian.”
Shelby found herself grinning, too. “We are.” The feet most definitely appeared to belong to a primate.
The lieutenant shook his head, ignoring for a moment his cell phone ringing which seemed to have been going nonstop. It wasn’t the first nor would it be the last time he asked, “What the hell is in that thing?”
A second work station had been set up facing the steps up onto the platform. Chairs had been brought out but no one was sitting. Cursorily, Shelby reviewed the data already collected in an attempt to calm her nervous anticipation. If they’d seen the feet already at the bottom, what would they discover when the UCO was positioned anatomically normal—right-side-up? She felt John off her shoulder. He must have been thinking similarly because she heard him say, “That cylinder is twelve feet tall.”
Shelby returned his uneasy gaze. “I know,” still trying to absorb the gargantuan pedal dimensions.
The right foot had measured a whopping 53.3 centimeters from great toe tip to heel, or about twenty-one inches, the left only minimally smaller—53.1 centimeters. Both measured approximately ten inches in width across the toe pads. She noted the prehensile characteristics—large great toe projected sideways versus straight ahead in Homo sapiens and the flatter arch, which in the human foot was more pronounced. Definitely, these feet belonged to an ape primate—an extremely large primate. She couldn’t tell whether the toes had nails or claws, which would also be a defining classification factor. Nails equal primate; claws are found in other mammals such as bears, dogs, or felines. She gazed back up at the platform. One thing was certain—the bones John had found with the UCO were in some way intimately linked to what was in the cylinder. She hoped like hell it wasn’t just the feet the UCO held.
“Ready,” the crane operator called. They were readying to hoist the massive cylinder off the platform.
Mendle got off his radio. “I have an engineer trying to determine why the UV light is able to penetrate the outer covering. Before, nothing would penetrate—radiation or electromagnetic.”
John added, “And it only seems to be effective where the color has changed.”
Shelby shifted to get a better view of the platform.
“Clear!” an airman shouted and waved everyone back.
The cable slack tightened and Shelby heard a high-pitched grinding noise as the metal chains tightened around the cylinder’s girth. The hook pulled from just below the upper chain. The UCO began to tip. Shelby noted the advancing indigo had continued its downward descent to the lower rim—which once the crane operation was completed would be the superior rim.
The UCO canted about twenty degrees off vertical before rising completely off the platform base. Three men quickly controlled the gentle swing. Higher the cylinder rose until it hovered five feet in the air.
Shelby tried to steal a glance at the bottom but detected only the original gray color. None of the indigo had reached that far. She could literally hear the high tension in the chains and cable and for a horrifying instant pictured the crane tilting and the entire UCO crashing to the concrete. Mendle must have read her mind because he said calmly, “That thing weighs fifty-one hundred pounds. The Terex Hydraulic is rated for twelve tons.”
“No problem then,” Shelby said.
Mendle grinned. “The Terex could swing the UCO though the hangar wall and not miss a beat.”
“How do they plan on righting it?” she asked.
The lieutenant spoke into his radio, then said, “We aren’t.”
Shelby began to ask why—she thought that was the purpose—but seeing a crew transferring on dollies some heavy-duty stainless steel supports with a curved inner belly toward the platform, she understood.
John and Shelby watched a second smaller hydraulic lift enter the apron. Efficiently the airmen positioned three struts on the platform. “You’re going to lay it on its side,” Shelby realized.
Mendle issued an order to the crew, then said with assurance, “Those struts are used to hold propane tanks which happen to be of similar diameter to the UCO. Not a perfect fit but it will work,” adding with a sly grin, “Toes up.”
Shelby nodded. “That way we can see both top and bottom.”
“Yes ma’am.” His radio chirped. Mendle spoke a minute, frowning. “Tell Vanessa I’ll inform her as soon as I know anything new.” A pause, then, “No, she won’t have access to Hangar Thirteen until I figure this thing out.” He dropped the radio to his side. “Vanessa Bayliss. She’s the liaison for the base. The local press have been hammering her about what was found on Little Okpilak. She can be as persistent as a migraine.” He glanced at John. “I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to contact you.”
John shrugged. “I just study ice and collect rocks.”
Mendle motioned toward the platform. “I think it’s safe to say that thing swinging in the air will be one of the most notable finds of your career.”
Shelby agreed inwardly. And hers.
The blue sheen of the Little Okpilak glistened under the three-quarter moon. A quarter mile down the offshoot ice tributary, the large crevasse creaked and groaned under the mounting stresses caused by the warming temperatures. Already the glacier had moved again. Once wide enough to require a suspension ladder to cross safely, tonight a man could literally leap across the deep fissure. The location where the mysterious object had been removed was no longer visible. The frozen edges now t
ouched, forced closed by the icy slab shifting.
And remaining buried in its blue tomb, the other third of the missing piece of a tumultuously violent chapter that had begun in a cold windswept prehistoric arctic valley and would finally conclude over 28,000 years later.
Revenge wasn’t limited only to humans!
CHAPTER 5
The UCO lay horizontal, supported and strapped to the three metal struts. The repositioning operation had taken just under two hours. In that time, the entire cylinder had transformed to a deep indigo. No gray remained. It was 2200 hours military time—10 p.m.—and Mendel had been on the phone for the last hour discussing the latest developments with his superiors. As the highest ranking officer involved with the UCO project, he had the responsibility to ensure answers arrived in a timely matter. In the military, many times that meant yesterday. With this latest twist, some of the brass would be arriving at Eielson in the a.m. Yesterday suddenly became infinitely more urgent.
Shelby stifled a yawn. She stood on the platform at the foot end of the cylinder.
“Tired?” John asked. He’d been at the work station discussing some details regarding the rocks he’d found with the cylinder. Mendle wanted all the facts he could gather before briefing his superiors. “I’m getting the feeling Frank Mendle would rather have had this thing show up in someone else’s glacier.”
“Yes, no, and I see his point,” Shelby replied.
John looked at her. She really was quite pretty even after such a long day. The resident paleoprimatologist wore excitement and anticipation well. “Yes, no…?” he repeated.
Shelby smiled. “Yes, I am tired, no, I’m not tired, hell, John, I don’t know. I do see how the stress of a find of this magnitude could put a little pressure on those involved.”
“We’re involved.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re correct. For now.”
John thought he detected a trace of regret. “Why the look? I figured this would be your goldmine.”