Parallel Extinction (Extinction Encounters Book 1)

by T. R. Stevens

  “When the Elemental deconstructs the Akashic record of this pseudo-person, we hope the scripted message will impact them as it flows into or through them. It is not a message of words; it is one of action, depicting final events in these individual’s many lives. These two have very traumatic pasts, through many lifetimes.

  “The harrowing death events will be stacked end to end in this record. The intention is that some form of overload condition will be produced in the Elemental, as the creature “digests” the construct. It is hoped that, as a result, whatever passes for attention will be focused on the record. Additionally, the moment of greatest fear and pain in each of these life-end events will be sliced off and layered, in an esoteric manner, at the end of this stack of memories. It will be a crescendo, designed to drive the final point of the message, like a spike, into the Elemental’s consciousness-equivalent. Of course, the message is that they are harming another conscious being.

  “Nothing like this has ever been done in the history of the Present Existence. It is only possible through permissions granted on levels that we do not understand.

  “The journey of the ones who sacrifice their record will cease to exist, except within the records of those who have related to them during their journey through the human eon. They will not move forward to the next level of evolution beyond the human plane; their hundreds of thousands of lives must start over again, from the beginning, in another cycle.

  “Failure to communicate will mean the direst of consequences: Mankind will be trapped on planets, otherwise these entities will continue to hunt humans in space. Man will not accept this and will continue to imprison them, when possible, as both a threat and the means to move into the universe. The destruction of the universes will come about as more are imprisoned. This is the only time that there will be any interference from these higher levels, regarding the path that Mankind pursues.

  “The Universe will be allowed to end. This reality, the one that includes the Human Race, will be terminated and not repeated.”

  The mouths of Garrison and Dominique hung open in astonishment at what they’d just heard.

  * * *

  “I don’t like it one bit, Nikki, it’s too much like what Swan wanted you to do. It’s too damn dangerous. No one has ordered you to do this. If you’re thinking of those secret orders from Swan, forget it; they were one-sided. They were given to me, never to you. Besides, they were a sham. No one would hold you to them.” He had ushered her into the sleep cubby once again, away from the other’s ears. He looked over his shoulder suspiciously, as if he might catch a ghost listening in on the conversation.

  “Garrison, it has nothing to do with orders, believe me. I know that this is a big risk. But the alternative is the greater risk. We really do have to consider the information we’re being given here as true.

  “I know that despite any evidence, you’re still skeptical, but I trust what they’re saying, and that they are in touch with other sources. You’re not responsible for my decision; in fact, you’ll be following your secret orders by not trying to stop me from doing this. Anyway, I’ll be able to hear the ghosts afterwards.”

  He made a motion of dismissal, waving a hand. “Forget those fucking orders already. Besides, Comani, he said, ‘no, no,’ recommending against it.”

  She took a deep breath. “No, he didn’t, Garry, he said, ‘I no know’—he didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry to have to make this decision. I wish I didn’t, but I do. Someone has to attempt some communication or understanding of these things. We can’t just wait till they attack us. And apparently we cannot go about imprisoning or destroying them—just as the military would do, if left to their own devices. I would wager that type of thinking was one of the reasons you left BUMP in the first place. We’ve got the advantage, with all three of our passengers talking to the ghosts. Everybody corroborates what is being said. And the ghosts can see these things when they show up.”

  He couldn’t argue with her. His gut churned now because what she said was true.

  He actually did trust Dr. Comani, who had been extremely helpful in this crisis. The man’s personal recovery from his ordeal and discovery of his connection with the ghosts had allowed him to guide the recovery of the women. The two had been semi-comatose when the QB1 had arrived at the Wheel. Seeing their improvement gave him some hope for Dominique’s safety.

  With the experience of these women and the doctor’s, along with the misleading orders from Swan, it at least seemed that these forces did indeed prefer a female host. It was also evident, so far, that the host was not consumed when acting as the host. The less fortunate women were those not possessed during an attack; they were fair game for consumption.

  Dominique was banking her life on these hypotheses as they now actively sought an encounter. Her life or her sanity could be at stake, to say nothing of the passengers that were now jammed into the small space of QB1’s cabin.

  When they’d started their return from the rescue mission, Dominique had set the comm to monitor Center’s broadcast on their channel. On it, they also received communiqués directed at the Medallion and other in-flight vessels. There were no responses from any of these.

  He and Astra were trying to anticipate where the missing battle-class ship might be. While it might prove to be a chance to intercept one of these things, it involved the question of Taylor’s fate. Garrison was hoping beyond hope that her ship had not come across one of the loose creatures.

  The radio silence from the Medallion was ominous. He worried, thinking of the comm loss at the Wheel, before its demise. …the same as Pirate Patrol One’s freq loss… His heart ached as he flashed on Taylor’s excitement in the bar when she’d first brought this story to him. It could just be the same comm loss that all the fleet seems to be experiencing.

  Because of Swan, they continued to maintain radio silence from their end, but hoped they could take action in the interest of the Medallion. It was a minor mystery why Center was highly focused on the Medallion’s assistance request. In the latest transmission, against protocol, they reported the last known location of the ship, the original incursion site. Garrison hoped the protocol change meant that somebody besides Swan was in charge now.

  In the face of Dominique’s staunch bravery, Garrison had given up further objections. Some step toward a resolution had to be taken. And she was likely in the right position to do this thing, armed with the information that she had—and being female.

  The logistics still had to be worked out as to how to avoid putting the rest of the Quantum Butterfly’s occupants at risk. That would have to wait until circumstances revealed themselves.

  For the ghosts’ part, they said that their preparations were already complete. They were ready for the confrontation, whenever it might happen.

  CHAPTER 84

  EVENT: DAY 20, 0710 UT

  Cooper and Tasimov were webbed in, ready for the Bullet’s drop to Earth.

  Cooper would have preferred to stay aboard the station, but she had talked him into accompanying her back to Earth. Amio had told them that the Elemental used for controlling the Station’s interstellar communications had been released. He had managed to get her station confinement lifted, acting in the capacity of Station Head’s Adjutant, before he’d been detained on Sumner’s orders. While not under arrest, it was he who was now confined to the station while the new Commander sorted out things about Admiral Swan. While the Elemental had not attacked anyone, as in previous incidents, its whereabouts were unknown. Remaining up here on the Dock seemed a foolish risk if Tasimov could leave quickly and quietly.

  Apparently Amio had been correct; Swan was corrupt. It didn’t surprise her one bit. In her own interest, she took it for granted that she could leave under the circumstances; she didn’t search out permission.

  Nearly ready for the drop to Earth, she began to breathe easier; she would see her granddaughter soon.
There were few passengers aboard the Bullet, and the mood was leaden. People were still withdrawn and contemplative; reevaluating their lives and what it all meant in the face of new knowledge and revelations. Each person had had a very personal, private experience; most did not want to share that with others. Those who wished to share were often discouraged by their audience.

  Tasimov had her eyes closed. The Bullet capsule had been transferred into the High Vee Tube, ready to begin the slide back to Earth. She waited for the slight jar of the docking clamps disengaging. When it did not come, she opened her eyes to see others with puzzled expressions similar to the one on her own face.

  And then came an unfamiliar noise as the air lock reconnected directly to the capsule doors, which then opened. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched two station security guards float into the top of the Bullet. One of them spoke briefly to each passenger. The other scanned the car occupants as he dropped down the length of the car, before zeroing in on her.

  “Nyet!” she said with anger and a fear of the military’s intentions.

  “Dr. Tasimov,” he said as he drifted toward her, “please come with us.” It was not a question.

  From behind her Cooper asked diplomatically, “What do you gentleman need?”

  The guard was single-minded. “I’m sorry, sir; you’ll need to come along also.” Turning attention back to her, he said, “Ma’am?”

  CHAPTER 85

  EVENT: DAY 21, 1000 UT

  “Quilliam Spence! Everyone’s convinced he’s the bloody savior.”

  Sumner had put the pieces together about the mysterious Lt. Spence.

  The military was a personnel network; with a simple command, data from individual persons’ supernatural experiences quickly piled up. It corroborated; the man could know something to help with regaining their interstellar capabilities, saving many lives.

  But what? This incomplete equation was causing him frustration, especially since he could not talk to the man.

  The suspicion that the QB1 was still space-going, as reported by Major Amio, was also confirmed by the eerie information from the network. He’d uncovered some of Swan’s machinations and had interviewed several strangely brainwashed soldiers. He had been informed that these people should have access to the ghosts and could help to open communications. Each of these individuals denied this, claiming ignorance of what he asked.

  Despite his frustrations, Sumner was in the same boat of undeniability as the rest of the race; he let the otherworldly assertions give him hope. It gave him the confidence needed to bank on the fact that the various populations they’d lost contact with were still alive. “Where did Swan send him?”

  “Quilliam Spence is policing Arc, a BUMP outpost in the Arcturus Quadrant.” The desktop avatar on Swan’s desk now spoke smoothly, its submissive personality deleted. It had also struck Sumner that the small, projected torso with its blonde hair seemed to be patterned after an all too familiar officer aboard the QB1. Sumner wasn’t happy about that, amongst a long list of things, but hadn’t taken more time to change it.

  “What? Since when do we have an outpost that far out? What does that equal in drive time?”

  It responded with the sexless voice, “It has been operational for six years, five months, twelve days, standard. If an SBMMP ship were able to depart from this docking station, it would take approximately sixty days to reach this outpost.”

  “Right… IF. Goddamit. What the bloody hell was Swan thinking? We need this Spence.” Sumner slotted a chip. “Comm, send this message to the QB1 immediately.” He sat back in the old leather chair that the former station head had brought up from Earth; it creaked loudly. “Huh. Great. Well, let’s hope the major is right about the QB1, we need them more than ever. They’re likely the only ride in the galaxy at this point.” The AI avatar’s blue facsimile eyes blinked.

  “I want Admiral Swan here, now.”

  The avatar acknowledged.

  The temporary station head had met with Tasimov and Cooper, and had relieved the woman’s concerns about her freedom. He’d also perused the various data files relating to the phenomenon responsible for BUMP’s interstellar flight capabilities. With information continuing to trickle in, from individual military officers and those soldiers under their command, about what their personal ghostly-relations had shared with each of them, the picture was becoming clearer in increments.

  After a brief interview with Major Amio soon after Sumner had arrived on-station, actions were taken against his CO. Swan was in the brig now, but they’d had to find him first. The man had come completely undone in the final hours before the ghostly invasion.

  Checking with security records, they managed to locate Swan. The record showed him out of uniform, having donned nano camo, which was difficult for standard cams to pick up. Fortunately, he’d been scanned as he passed through a mostly secret passage, used solely by military police members, which took him through the Slice division-walls as he slipped over to Vegas Slice. His camouflage was defeated in that hallway, and they had no trouble quickly tracing the rest of his route to a parlor in Vegas Slice, Vegas Vices.

  Swan was found by the MP’s in a black-walled room, trussed up in a complex form of coarse-rope bondage. It had painfully highlighted his privates. Suspended in mid-air, spread-eagled, he had been abandoned by the strange and hard woman who had been ministering to his sexual deviance at the time of the ghosts’ appearance.

  That appearance had resulted in some great deal of shame for them both, as the review of the parlor’s security log showed. An albino woman dressed in white had silently appeared from nowhere, frightening the blonde dominatrix, who had then run screaming from the back room and out of the parlor in her full regalia, breasts and crotch bare to the world, not returning.

  Clarence Swan’s pale and pallid relative, who had suddenly manifested, indeed seemed ghostly in the blackened room, despite that she was flesh and blood for those few moments. She had said nothing as the man begged, with difficulty past a ball-gag, to be released. She simply shook her head, scorning the bound man before she popped back out of existence.

  * * *

  “Well, Swan, there are quite a number of revelations here in your files. A lot more than what the ghosts already told us. You like to take credit for things, don’t you?” Sumner surveyed Swan from behind the man’s own desk. His prisoner sat awkwardly in a chair in front of it, his hands bound behind him. Swan did not answer.

  “You know, the one link that we might have to the rest of the universe, all of the men and woman out there, that’s the link that you tried to bury. I’ve got Lt. Quilliam Spence located, fortunately, and I’m arranging a ride for him with your good friends, Captains Bartell and Astra. Interesting twist of fate, eh?” Sumner hoped his boast would turn to truth somehow, and soon.

  The acting station commander caught Swan’s glance at the avatar before his head drooped in resignation.

  He went on, “You got a hard-on for Astra? Hmmm? Rather selective porn collection you have here. Done some nice editing; fit yourself right in there, didn’t you?”

  His head bent lower, deeper in shame and embarrassment.

  “I don’t know how we’re going to clean this mess up, but be assured, your bacon is not comin’ out of the fire unfried. I have little use for the likes of you, Swan, but you’re going to pitch in here whether you want to or not. And don’t expect brownie points—you’ll do just as you’re told and then you’ll take your punishment. Got that?”

  Swan made a feeble attempt to nod his head from its inclined position.

  Sumner was sick of this man already. With a clank and squeal from the chair, he launched himself from around the desk and grabbed a fistful of gray hair, yanking Swan’s head back and yelling into his face, “DO YOU GET THAT, SOLDIER?”

  Spittle flew from the Admiral’s mouth to rain down on Swan’s grimacing face and clenched-
shut eyes. “Yes, Sir,” he said loudly, making it work this time, though without shouting.

  “LOOK AT ME WHEN YOU SAY THAT!”

  He opened red eyes to meet the glare of his accuser. “Yes, Sir.”

  Sumner released his hold on the man’s hair with a shove. Swan stiffened, keeping his head from snapping sideways, and glared at his captor’s back as Sumner moved back to the desk.

  Without needing to see Swan’s face, Sumner said, “I don’t want to see that look on your face, soldier. You’re in no position to feel any kind of righteous.”

  Swan quickly let his face go slack; he knew the truth when he heard it. At least he had that.

  CHAPTER 86

  EVENT: DAY 21, 1100 UT

  The emergency only gained urgency.

  The astounding visitation and the discussion of the ghosts’ bizarre plans had been a distraction. When they finally were able to turn their attention away from these events, there existed a strong imperative in Garrison to reach the next destination as fast as possible. And maybe that was what did it; in the course of their flight, space changed and they were there.

  Just as they had made the leap to the Wheel Station, they leapt to the space near the original attack. Garrison’s awe of the little craft returned to quash his earlier frustrations; there was no possible explanation that he could think of for how it achieved this maneuver. It was simply impossible.

  The Medallion had not been where they expected, though. The ship had recently received an upgrade with the new food replicators; it gave Dominique hope that Captain Sparks would be heading for the nearest outpost—these machines could recycle most waste into nourishing food for an extended period. Any other resources would be years away.