Sacrifice:The Shenkar War

by Libby, Seth

  Outside the simulator, the scientists scrambled to find the reason why everything was suddenly going so wrong.

  July 27, 2012, 10:09 a.m. ESTHanscom Air Force Base, Building 216

  “WHAT IS GOING ON?!” shouted Milton furiously as he watched the overhead monitors of ten pilots. Each monitor showed a pilot holding his or her head, eyes closed tight, screaming in obvious pain.

  “I don’t know, sir; they have never reacted this way before,” said Danvers.

  “Shut down the simulators . . . NOW!” shouted Milton, a little less angrily than before.

  Danvers and Stevenson scrambled, flipping switches and pressing buttons, shutting down the simulators. All the while, the music continued to play. Milton kept watch on the vitals of the pilots: all brain-wave activity was off the scale, heart rates spiked. Cardiac arrest was now becoming a large danger if they didn’t get those men and women stabilized.

  Milton watched the pilots, and suddenly, a realization dawned on him. Surging forward, he reached out and shut down the music feed. The change in the pilots was instantaneous; all dropped their hands from their heads as they sagged in their cockpits with looks of exhaustion on their faces. Heart rates also returned to stable levels. Both Danvers and Stevenson hurried from their chairs to the simulators. Danvers, the first to reach a simulator, grabbed the handle and opened it up. Liam sagged in his cockpit, muttering under his breath. Leaning forward, Danvers unhooked Liam’s flight belt. As he did this, he could make out what Liam was saying repeatedly: “Leah . . Leah . . Leah . . .”

  Once he was sure Liam was okay, Danvers went to the other simulators to check on the pilots. None of the others were speaking, but all seemed to be in semiconscious states and not really aware of their surroundings.

  “Danvers, what is their status?” demanded Milton as he approached.

  “Physically, except for elevated heart rates, they seem to be okay, but mentally, I can’t say without running some further tests. We need to get them over to the base infirmary at once,” responded Danvers.

  “Stevenson, call the infirmary and have these men and women transported there. I will be over in an hour to run some tests once I have looked over the data on this last simulation,” said Milton.

  Stevenson stood up from where he was examining Dimitri and walked to the phone. Milton looked for Danvers and found him once again kneeling at Lieutenant Brennan’s side, examining him and speaking in a low voice to him. Milton walked over and looked down at the two.

  “How is he?” asked Milton with uncharacteristic concern in his voice.

  “He seems to be in shock. I am not sure to the reason, but he keeps saying ‘Leah’ over and over again,” said Danvers without looking up.

  “Who is Leah?” asked Milton.

  “I don’t know; she isn’t anyone I know of. I know none of the recruits have that for a first name, so it must be someone from his past.”

  “But I thought they lost all of their memories in the enhancement process?”

  “Yes, they did, but it seems he retained some memory deep down that the process didn’t wipe.”

  “I . . . remember . . . everything,” croaked a voice in a low whisper.

  It took Milton a few seconds to realize Liam had spoken. Danvers was looking at Liam with surprise on his face. All three remained where they were in silence: Milton standing, Danvers kneeling next to Liam, and Liam half out of his cockpit and staring at the floor. Liam was the first to break the silence, lifting his head as he spoke.

  “I remember everything.” His eyes came to rest on Milton. “I was a police officer once, suffering from horrible depression from the loss of my wife and son. Evan over there is my best friend.” He raised a hand and pointed directly at Evan’s simulator without turning to look. “It was like a flood of memories came crashing through my head, as if there had been a wall holding it all back. The song was the hammer that broke that wall . . . that song was a song that meant a lot to me and someone I have recently come to realize I love very much.” That last part Liam said in a whisper, as if telling it to himself.

  Milton felt a deep sadness for the young man. Leaning over, he placed a hand on his shoulder. Giving the young man’s shoulder a squeeze, he spoke in a low voice.

  “It will be all right, son. We will sort all this out. Do you need some water?” Leaving his hand where it was, he turned to look at Danvers. “Get the young man some water, please.”

  Danvers looked at Milton for a second, clearly surprised by the compassion coming from a man he had labeled as a taskmaster. Standing, he quickly walked to a small refrigerator. As he returned with a bottle of water, the door to the building opened and several paramedics entered. One by one, the paramedics examined the pilots and then helped them up and out to the waiting ambulances. The last to leave was Liam. As he was helped from the room, he stopped and turned his head back to Milton and spoke.

  “I need to send a message to someone, and I don’t care about national security or the need for secrecy, so this isn’t a request. I get to send my message, or I won’t continue this.”

  With that, he faced forward once again and let the paramedics help him toward the entrance.

  Milton at first felt slight irritation at the demand, but it quickly dissipated and he spoke to Liam’s back. “Don’t worry, Lieutenant Brennan; you will be able to send your message. I will deliver it personally.”

  Milton didn’t know why, but he felt an obligation to help the young man, and he knew sending this message wouldn’t violate any rules set down for secrecy as long as Liam’s message didn’t divulge anything he was doing or what was going on. Nevertheless, he swore he would personally deliver the message for Liam.

  July 27, 2012, 7:32 p.m. ESTHanscom Air Force Base, Infirmary

  Sitting on the bed shirtless with his head in his hands, Liam thought of what had happened. His memory had returned like an avalanche on a mountain ski resort: his memories being the avalanche and the resort being his head. It had been highly confusing and very painful when it had happened, as a pain of white-hot needles drove into his skull followed closely by the memories. Even so, Liam wasn’t upset that it had happened; if it hadn’t, he wouldn’t have his memories back. True enough, it brought back all the bad memories and sadness, but it also brought back Leah, and that was a good memory. He had to speak to her one last time before he left for his fate, never to see her again.

  “How are you feeling, Lieutenant Brennan?” asked a male voice.

  Liam glanced up to see a man, probably in his late thirties, looking at him.

  “I’m fine, Doctor; just a little headache and I am tired. How many more tests will you need to do?” replied Liam.

  “Well, I still would like to run some tests before we release you and your fellow pilots, but technically, they can be put off until tomorrow. So far, you and your fellow pilots are the first group to have their memories return, something the Meshtrell had assured us wouldn’t happen.”

  “That’s fine . . . let me know what you need me to do,” said Liam solemnly.

  “Just a few questions for now will be fine. At what point did you realize something was wrong?” asked the doctor.

  “Uh . . . I don’t know . . . maybe around the time of the song,” Liam said sadly.

  “Uh-huh. And do you know why that particular song would trigger that response when none of the rest of the music did?”

  Liam sighed; he knew what the reason was. It was a song that Leah had said was their song. It was a song about friendship, but it could also be about relationships and love. Thinking back, he remembered when they had been walking in a park when they heard the song.

  “I love this song,” Liam said softly to himself.

  “Me too,” Leah said excitedly. “It’s an awesome song, all about friendship and relationships. HEY! I got an idea,--let’s make it our song! We are such good friends; I can’t see how we would never be there for each other.”

  “Okay, that’s cool, never had a song with a
nyone . . . not even my wife,” Liam said quietly.

  She glanced up at him with a slight look of pity on her face for a second that quickly changed into a smile as she grabbed his hand. “GREAT, now we have a song!” Then she got up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek.

  Startled at the sudden kiss, Liam turned and looked at Leah. “What was that for?” he asked.

  “WOW, can’t a girl just kiss her friend on the cheek?” asked Leah in mock anger.

  “Oh . . . no . . . that’s okay. It just surprised me, that’s all,” Liam said quickly.

  Liam thought back of how the kiss had felt on his cheek. He wished he could feel that kiss one more time. As he reminisced, he became aware of the doctor speaking to him and it shook him from his thoughts.

  “Lieutenant? Hello?” the doctor was asking.

  “Oh sorry, it was a song that meant something to me and someone I care for very much,” said Liam quietly.

  “Ah, okay,” said the doctor as he wrote on his clipboard. “Well, okay, you will need to take it easy for the next few days. You can try just studying, but no physical activities will be permitted.”

  “But what am I supposed to do then? I can’t get back to training and I can’t leave the base. Am I just supposed to sit in my quarters?”

  “No, you can use this time to study or spend time with your fellow pilots. After all, they will be with you in the end and will be the closest thing you will have to family from this day forward,” said the doctor.

  Agitated, Liam stood up, pulled on his shirt, and stalked out. Doctors, nurses, and medical assistants moved quickly out of Liam’s way after one look of his face. Exiting the infirmary, Liam was surprised to find that night had fallen. He hadn’t realized he had spent that much time in the infirmary. Lost in thought, he quietly made his way back to his quarters, thankful he ran into no one he knew.

  Once he entered his quarters, he removed his shirt, grabbed a beer out of his refrigerator, and sat in a chair. Sitting there in the dark, he once again thought back to his time spent with Leah. As he sipped at his beer, savoring the flavor, he decided that no matter what, one way or another, he would find a way to say good-bye to her.

  July 30, 2012, 8:30 a.m. ESTThe White House, Washington, DC

  President Sheehan read the latest reports that came to him on the construction and training of the fleet. So far, the training of the pilots had been going quite well. They had exceeded everyone’s best estimates. The governments had also somehow managed to keep everything that had transpired quiet so far, and the public knew nothing of the fate that they were possibly facing. Governments had secretly sabotaged any public or commercial telescopes or radar systems large enough to capture the movements going on in space. The governments had also been slowly shuttling men and women to the site of the shipyards, so it had become necessary for such interventions.

  For the most part, Meshtrell robotic technology did the work of constructing the capital ships and fighters of the Earth Defense Force. Once a capital ship was completed, it would need a human crew to man it, and they needed to learn the onboard systems to successfully fight the nightmare known as the Shenkar when they finally came to Earth. Preliminary reports showed two battlecruisers, christened the EDF George Washington and EDF Yamamoto, had been successfully completed. Furthermore, along with roughly one thousand light and heavy fighters, there were also four heavy cruisers: the EDF Atlantis, Paris, Sydney, and Moscow (the last three named at the insistence of the leaders of France, Australia, and Russia, respectively).

  A knock at the door made President Sheehan look up; his secretary stuck her head in.

  “Sir, I realize you didn’t want to be disturbed, but General Kelvin is here and he said it is important he speaks with you.”

  He wondered what would bring Kelvin here when he was supposed to be heading up the construction of a training facility in Texas.

  “Send him in.”

  Setting the reports aside, President Sheehan stood and walked around to the front of his desk as Kelvin came in looking rather grim.

  “Frank, what brings you here? Last I had heard, you were supposed to be in Texas overseeing groundbreaking of the new facility,” asked the President as he offered his hand.

  Taking the offered hand, Kelvin shook it as he spoke. “Sir, we have a situation that has arisen that you will not be pleased about.”

  “And what situation would that be?” asked the President.

  “Well, it seems it’s out--or at least people suspect. As you know, we have been monitoring all information sources for any indication of what is currently surfacing in the media as well as over the Internet. Well, yesterday, we got a hit. Someone leaked information on a secret multinational project to build a military force to repel an alien invasion force currently on its way to Earth. For now, it is being considered by most to be typical tabloid news, but there are those who believe it to be true. In time, left on its own, this rumor can grow and then the truth will eventually come out. I think we should make the necessary arrangements to let the public know what is coming.

  “I realize that you and the other world leaders wanted to hold off on releasing the news as long as possible. However, if you allow the public to puzzle all of this out for themselves instead of coming forward, then people might feel that they were purposely kept in the dark. By not telling the public, it sends a message that the leaders of the world feel the Earth doesn’t stand a chance of survival. Moreover, it might look like you don’t want to deal with people and the repercussions that could follow. I have found, when presented with hopeless situations, people tend to like when their government leaders show that they believe in their people to stand fast in dark times behind their leaders.”

  Adam Sheehan and the rest of the world leaders had been hesitant in letting people know the situation for many reasons. Some felt that no matter what they told them, the people would feel this was the end of the world. It was no big secret that it was speculated that this was the year the world would come to an end--or so the Mayan calendar said. Whether it was religious fanatics believing it was the end of days or those who wouldn’t be able to accept that humans were not the only sentient beings in the universe, some would use it as an excuse to riot and cause chaos throughout the world. Even so, Frank Kelvin was right: the longer they put it off, the greater the chance the public would find out, and that would only do more harm than good.

  “Very well, assemble the participating world leaders. We will convene and find a way to present this to the world.”

  July 31, 2012, 8:30 a.m. ESTHanscom Air Force Base

  After a few days of doing nothing, Liam, Evan, and the rest of Necro Squadron had started to feel restless. Before all of this had happened, sitting around doing nothing and drinking beers with friends would have been high on Liam’s list. Now he itched to be back in training, and as of this morning, his wish had been granted.

  “We are to start training in hand-to-hand combat today; this should be interesting,” said Crystal.

  “I have been reading up on these plasma swords we will be trained in using. The sword is a three-foot-long blade of white-hot plasma contained by a force field generated in the hilt of the weapon. The force field prevents the plasma from escaping, yet anything can pass through the force field. From what I have read, it can burn through a three-inch-thick sheet of titanium as if it were tissue paper, yet if you were to hold the blade an inch from your hand, you wouldn’t feel the slightest heat,” remarked Tim.

  “Great, we get to cut off each other’s arms and legs before we even get into space,” said Evan enthusiastically.

  “I am willing to bet the blades we will use will be toned-down practice weapons and will only sting when hit with,” said Tim frankly.

  Before Liam knew it, they arrived at the building they were assigned to. From the outside, the building looked a lot larger than any of the previous ones they had been taking classes in. Several groups of men and women were making their way into the buil
ding, so it appeared that the hand-to-hand combat classes were to take place with the other pilots who had been enhanced.

  Once they made their way inside, Liam looked around. The building appeared to be a very large gymnasium. Against the far wall was a row of bleachers, which pilots were gathering at, with several blue mats positioned evenly throughout the floor. At the base of the bleachers stood a Meshtrell with a group of several men. As Liam stood there just inside the doorway, he became aware of angry voices speaking behind him; one of them appeared to belong to Evan. Turning to see what the commotion was, Liam saw Evan practically nose to nose with another man almost equal to his height. Crystal, Tim, and the rest of the squadron stood behind Evan, giving sharp looks at the men who stood similarly arrayed behind the man Evan was confronting.

  “Maybe you should tell your stupid American girlfriend that she shouldn’t stand in the doorway and then maybe I wouldn’t feel it necessary to move her out of my way!” said the man to Evan.

  “Move her out of the way!? You didn’t even ask her to move; all you did was shove her out of your way! And if you insult her one more time, I am going to plant my fist down your throat!” retorted Evan angrily.

  “I would like to see you try! All you Americans are arrogant pigs who feel they rule everything.”

  Murmurs of agreement rose from the group gathered behind the man, and Liam could see Evan’s face darken even more with anger.

  “Well, at least we know how to win a war and don’t surrender when someone points a pellet gun at us, unlike France!” Evan fired back.

  At that comment, Liam noticed the French flag sewn on to the man’s shoulder--so that’s how Evan knew the man’s nationality. Liam was starting to realize that the embedded translators in the nanites could be as much a burden as well as a benefit. The French man’s hands had balled into fists now; apparently, that last comment by Evan had struck a nerve. Before the situation could escalate further, however, more arrivals to the rear of the French group caused them to pause. Two groups of pilots arrived behind them, both wearing the flag of the UK on their shoulders. A blond man stepped forward, eyeing the French spokesman.