by Gary Starta
She tried calling out to her lover. There was no response. Was she now out range? How far had she tumbled? She again searched for gauges. She imagined her imaginary hands pounding on an imaginary console. At least the fictional characters had a means to vent.
Trapped in her mind, Iris began to console herself. Apparently, they had outfoxed the enemy and her plan had succeeded. Mitchell was alive, he was now a ship at the moment, but he was alive. They had sidestepped the plague. They had outmaneuvered rapid evolution. How much fucking more do you want? She realized her question was ridiculous if not rhetorical. Other than the unhelpful voice, who was hearing her? Mitchell was not responding. Wait a minute, the enemy ship . . .
Iris concentrated her signal. The ship might be able to hear her. It might be reasoned with so as to obliterate the human male and female responsible for thwarting its plans. Yeah, right.
Hmmm. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I communicate with my controls telepathically. I mean, if I don’t have consoles or engines or nacelles, I might be able to mentally instruct my ship—I mean myself—to defend itself . . . or, at the very least, right myself.
As she struggled, Iris envisioned a view screen. Had she activated it? If so, it was a good start. The bad thing about the view screen was that Starship Mitchell seemed to have gotten the hang of flying, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he was on an intercept course with the enemy.
“No! You can’t do this! Back off. Back off! I mean . . . abort . . . abort.” Iris gasped. She didn’t know what lingo you used to discourage your boyfriend-turned-ship to abandon course. It apparently didn’t matter, he did not respond.
A second later, the purring noise resumed. It meant she was back online as far as navigational meant. She could feel herself righting. It made her quite dizzy. She didn’t care. She would do anything to save Mitchell then she could die from what those Klingons called an “honorable death.”
A missile or some laser beam of light whizzed past her. What? This can’t be. You’ve fired your last weapon. You’re spent. You should be fucking spent!
A sickening realization dawned on her. Since she was in Time/Space, there were no laws of physics—at least not the kind that governed her former Earth. That meant the enemy ship might have positioned itself back in time as to when it still had weaponry. Maybe it wasn’t the life altering plague beam but at this instant, any old missile would be enough to extinguish Thaddeus Mitchell: UFO Chaser.
Okay. Okay. I must have weaponry as well. She imagined firing a blast of light, simply directing a beam of energy from her as if it were no harder than spitting rainwater from her mouth.
It’s harder than you can imagine. Iris railed at her misfortune. Another blast from the enemy was on target. Not for her but for Starship Mitchell. It grazed a wing. The Starship Mitchell assumed a forward tumble resembling the free fall she had initiated earlier.
“Oh God. Oh God. Fucking voice, fucking Galloway, over, respond . . .”
Iris’s stress call was answered but not by anyone she had ever conversed with prior. It was stilted conversation. As if something was translating the original dialogue from alienese to English.
She didn’t need words to feel its pain. It was horribly alone. It was lethally angry. It had spent its existence orbiting the Earth seeking the gap that would allow it to complete the one mission it was designed for. It wasn’t necessarily a Grey, but possibly a genetically created bio-ship. It had sentience. It had feelings. It wanted vengeance. And after all those long and lonely orbits, some woman who didn’t even believe in aliens had managed to take away its one purpose. It all made sense. A ship filled with Greys would likely perish in such a quest, and if a crew had survived would it have been able to withstand the impact of the weapon release? Probably not. But who knows? Iris realized the whole mechanics of the universe sometime came down to the best guess.
Iris empathized with its plight for all of about a nanosecond. Sure it got a raw deal. It was a slave ship. It would die completing its only purpose. It had been stripped of any honor when that purpose failed.
“I’m sorry for you. But I’m not sorry enough to watch my boyfriend die. I know I’m selfish. I’m human. I bet all the rapid evolution in the universe won’t take away the human compulsion for selfishness. Did you ever stop to consider that? Huh?”
The being didn’t stop to ponder or answer. It fired again. This time its weapon grazed her wing. But she managed to imagine herself steering starboard side, it lessened the impact of the blast to avoid the free fall tumbling. The enemy opted to home in on its damaged target instead of firing from afar. In seconds, the bio-ship was hovering over Starship Iris. She was dead in the water.
This fucker isn’t just out to kill. It wants to torture us with a slow, agonizing death. I’m all out of sorry. Fire all weapons!
She was so mad she felt as if she was temporarily blinded. How in the universe would her missiles ever find their target? But she realized a steady stream of fire might deter or even interfere with any more assaults waged against her or Starship Mitchell. Somehow, as a ship, she contained all knowledge related to a ship. Maneuvering, piloting—this knowledge came to her as if it were a sudden download. The missiles missed their targets by parsecs and resembled a fireworks display more than a galactic assault.
“That’s it, my love. That’s all I can do. I am so sorry I failed my team again. I couldn’t protect them when they needed me most. I wish I could self-destruct. I wish I could self-destruct.”
Starship Iris heeded the command. It took her captain’s orders literally. But instead of imploding, it split into pieces. One of the pieces shot forward obliterating a wing of the enemy ship. Other pieces floated as if a cluster of asteroids suspended in space. The enemy ship attempted to fire, but its decimated wing left it little capability but to launch into a permanent portside turn.
“Okay, it’s over. It’s over. I will die for my cause. Can you say the same?”
Starship Iris repeated her communiqué a few more times before losing consciousness.
32 MINUTES and 57 seconds, 32 minutes and 58 seconds, 32 minutes and 59 seconds, 33 minutes and zero seconds . . . Time/Space expired with the corresponding failure of the Earth’s core to power the artifact longer than 33 minutes. OBOLs joined in waves and appeared to dance as if they had joined a galactic chorus line. The threat of takeover had been averted. Space/Time was back online and Earth’s populace seemed glad to heed to its rules. The majority of that populace would never recall their paradoxical experiences. But a few would.
Chapter Twenty-seven
SHE SHOOK her head like a wet dog until the gagging started. A cough emanated from deep inside her chest. It felt like the time she swallowed pool water learning to swim. DJ competed for oxygen for a moment and inventoried her situation. She was soaking wet and her blurred vision told her two men were staring at her. Was this the here? Was this the now? She squinted from the glint of a sparkly pendant that was equally splendid and blinding at the same time. It was dangling from the hand of Bill. She recalled the paradox. Seconds ago she was experiencing bliss. Her body was enveloped in some kind of energy ribbon but then came a lightning blast. It tore her new world apart, separated her from her mom and left her soaking in a tub of water.
She struggled for speech. “Am I back? Am I alive . . . again?”
Evan smiled and glanced at Bill. “You are back in normal time, yes,” Bill responded. “It can be only due to Quetzalcoatl’s staff and the power of your Reptilian DNA. Oh,” he paused to raise an eyebrow, “and whatever else might have happened in the fourth dimension.”
Mom, she did something to me with the lightning. Connected or recharged me. Even I know water conducts electricity. DJ pointed at the pendant. “Is that what you mean by Quetzalcoatl? I thought Quetzalcoatl was an evil serpent?”
Bill shrugged. His noncommittal gesture angered her. Evan grabbed her hand. “Can you stand? Let me get you out of this tub.”
DJ came to her feet easily but staggered a
few times in Evan’s arms.
“Hey, what are you doing to that woman?” The voice came from behind. Kassidy’s eyes were beaming. Squeezing into the cramped bath behind her was Rachel.
“It looks like someone is back from the dead.” Kassidy squeezed DJ’s hand. The medium squeezed her hand back. “It’s good to see you guys.”
Bill excused himself and attempted to exit, but he was pasted between Kassidy and Rachel. Darian and Gavin tugged the spirit guide until he popped from the quarters. Tawa yipped and danced at Bill’s feet in the hallway. He patted her head. “Your daddy is back, girl.” Bill glanced at Ron who was seated on the floor but with his back to the wall. He was lucid, and he was smiling. “It looks like we’re all back.”
Gavin responded. “But back from what? Did we really survive the time slip?”
Darian slapped a hand against the doorframe. “That’s right! We must have survived. We didn’t evolve!”
Gavin reprimanded Darian. “Speak for yourself.”
Darian ignored the barb and raced to the kitchen table to retrieve the transceiver.
“Yes, we did,” DJ answered. She was speaking to no one in particular. She ran a hand through damp hair. It felt like the loving touch of her mother. She wanted to absorb the feeling as if it were the water dripping from her clothes.
“Here, take a towel or two,” Evan offered.
She waved a hand. “No, I want to experience where I was a moment longer. DJ felt as if the water was her last connection to her special moment in time where she was dancing with her mother in no particular time or place. It was as if time had stopped for them. The water had to be a conduit. Maybe it was how her mother sent an electric current to her real body. She grabbed a handful of her sopping shirt and squeezed it. Cupping the water in her other hand, she splashed it onto her face. “Oh, it was glorious.” She didn’t care if the experience hadn’t been real in the definition of Space/Time.
Her declaration earned blank stares from Evan, Kassidy, and Rachel.
“You all don’t remember anything, do you?” DJ pondered why she had recall. Possibly it was due to her telepathic gift. Maybe it was some kind of residual effect from communing with Galloway. It didn’t really matter. What mattered was that she remembered.
Kassidy responded. “I had blackouts where I recalled more.”
“I bet your blackouts didn’t take you to another dimension,” Rachel said, her tone scolding.
“Maybe not, but I’d like to think I’d been transported to a rave or a place where everyone feels connected. It’s probably why I fucking drink so much. I just want to find that place.”
Rachel stared at her for a moment, attempting to discern if she was pulling her leg. When Kassidy began tearing, Rachel threw her arms around her. “Why didn’t you ever tell anybody this?”
Kassidy blinked. “It was before I began believing in Evan’s science. I know it sounds like a child’s dream, but what if it isn’t . . .”
Evan corrected. “You mean what if it wasn’t.” He glanced at his watch. “Aha. Thirty-four minutes have passed. That means we could have danced on the moon for all we know.” He patted Kassidy’s cheek. “I hope you went to your special place, honey; I really do.”
Kassidy smiled. Rachel placed her free arm around Evan in solidarity.
“It just sucks we can’t remember anything,” Kassidy complained.
DARIAN’S VOICE repeated the same mantra. “Report, Eye Girl. Please report. This is Darian, over. Do you copy?”
Iris heard a faint voice in the background. She was lying on sand. She grabbed a fistful and began thrashing. “No! I won’t let you hurt him! I won’t let . . .”
Mitchell shook her hand until it emptied its contents. “You’re with me, in the here and now. Iris, Iris, do you hear me?” Long seconds passed, and then Mitchell came into focus. He was hovering over her but as a person and not a craft.
“Then what is that voice?” She righted herself to a sitting position. “Don’t you hear that? It could be the woman I heard . . .” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, I thought I was still . . . up there.”
Evan nodded. “I was up there as well. It’s over now. We survived, somehow. The voice you are hearing is Darian’s.”
Iris hugged Mitchell. “Where’s my dad? Rusty?”
“They’re fine. Your dad is packing up the equipment.” Equipment had become the new code name for the artifact. Mitchell explained Dan had suggested they all stop defining the dial so explicitly while waiting for Iris to revive. “Your Dad says the Canyon has ears.”
“Ooh.” She raised a hand to the back of her head. “It was so real. The battle between us and the enemy ship . . . I’m just so glad you’re alive.” She kissed Mitchell’s forehead. “I guess time saved us in our last moments.”
Mitchell raised an eyebrow. “I can’t be sure of anything. I don’t know if any of the effects of the time slip would have jeopardized us now that we’re back in Space/Time.”
Iris squinted. “Then what was it all about? Some kind of lesson?”
“I wish I knew. I’m just glad your plan worked.” Mitchell squeezed her hand. “But I am curious about that voice you mentioned.”
“Yes . . . the Voice.” Iris placed a hand over her mouth. “I don’t know what it was. It wasn’t Galloway. It was more female sounding but hard to tell gender in thought speak.”
Iris heard the chatter of voices. It was her dad and Rusty scaling over the stone walling.
“There’s my girl,” Dan said, extending a hand to Iris.
“There’s my dad,” Iris responded. Dan smiled and cupped a hand to the back of her head.
“Come on, guys,” Dan said to everyone. “We’ve got to evacuate before the authorities or something worse investigates.”
Mitchell nodded. “Just let me answer Darian. I get the feeling he desperately wants to know if we’re all in the same dimension.”
DAN CAMDEN stared at his clasped hands. He and the entire team, with the exception of Ron, were seated at the command center/dining table in Iris’s living room. Ron made Dan feel even guiltier. Look what the man had been through. The only repayment Ron wanted from the team was visiting rights concerning Tawa. At last check, Ron was resting comfortably without disruption. His link to the ship had been severed; at least that’s what Ron said he believed. He admitted he would need to sleep a full week before making a further prognosis of his mental state.
Dan caught the reflection of his face on the table. He looked stern. He had to be for the safety of his children. But on the inside, his heart felt a little lighter than in previous years. He had participated in an effort to save humanity instead of acquiring technology for the purpose of enslaving it. In theory, he and the Organization were no better than the Greys. Both wanted to dominate for selfish gain. He was no longer the man who joined a sinister and secret force in the Arizona desert in the late 80s. He was above ground, so to speak. Ironically, his recent actions screamed he retreat. Maintaining a low profile from here on out was imperative if he was ever going to entertain thoughts of seeing his children grow and have families.
“No, Iris.” Dan responded to Iris’s demand. “I cannot stay in this house. The Organization has probably pieced the puzzle together. They have most likely scoured the desert and found Jack and Will. When they determine my body is not among them, they will stop at nothing to find me. Not to mention, the equipment.”
“But . . .” Iris attempted to intervene. Dan waved a hand at her.
“Even if I wasn’t being hunted by the Organization, I could very well become the target of any remaining Greys still here on Earth.”
Dan observed Iris biting her lip. “What is it, dear?”
“I hate to say it, but you’re right. The enemy ship tried to kill me in my time slip and it wasn’t even really a Grey.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “But where does that leave you?”
Bill raised a hand. “Mr. Camden can stay with Rusty and me.” Tawa barked. “And with Ta
wa, on the reservation,” Bill continued. “We will all stand guard over the equipment.”
“But what kind of safety will the reservation bring? Do you have arms?”
Bill teased, “Yes, and we have two legs that can carry us as swift as any of Mr. Science’s Fastwalkers.”
Dan realized Bill was alluding to the Organization’s code name for UFOs. “You see, my darling Iris and DJ. Your father will do quite okay for himself.”
Evan remarked to Dan, “With honor and respect, I do believe you’ll be in more than capable hands. We all honor the Hopi for their assistance.” Evan nodded to Bill.
DJ cleared her throat. “Iris was referring to human weapons, Bill. What would protect you from Quetzalcoatl or other serpents?”
“You probably know more than I do at this juncture. I think it’s safe to say Quetzalcoatl was on our side yesterday. Maybe it had something to do with your other half. Regardless, we have other warning signs to heed like the Blue Kachina. I still believe it has our backs, so to speak.”
“For the stars’ sakes, I hope so,” Rachel said.
Gavin chuckled. “That was very scientific coming from a ghost hunter.”
Iris rapped the table with her hand. “I don’t think anyone of us here can draw a clear distinction between being a ghost hunter or UFO chaser anymore. I believe we have coalesced.” She twirled her index finger in circles.
“Speaking of which,” Evan said, “I can only theorize what occurred in the time slip. Having heard reports from Iris, Mitchell, and DJ—the only ones among us who seem to recall their experiences—I think it’s safe to assume the event really happened. Having said that, how might the fourth dimension be capable of distorting our linear perceptions? I am leaning to several theories. I am wondering if Mr. Camden might shed some light on the subject.”