by Ric Dawson
“Well, Mr. Sudler, for now, I see no harm in taking this at face value. How does this canopy work?” the admiral asked.
Others had more profane exclamations as the stunned officers, special agents, and other suits gaped at the shield.
“I control the shield with my mind. I make it bigger or smaller by thinking at the implant.” The blue glow grew and diminished as I continued the demonstration.
“The shield can stop a bullet when at full strength.” From that moment on, everyone hung on every word I uttered. With the exception of Jack Morgan, who glowered at me like I resembled toxic waste.
“The weapon only works on shadow creatures, and I’m still learning all its functions,” I said.
“Can it be weaponized to attack anyone?” Lieutenant General Msythie asked.
“Not that I know of.”
“That should comfort Agent Morgan. Please continue, Mr. Sudler,” Lieutenant General Ames said.
An older gentleman with silver hair and beard stood up. “Perhaps we can get back on track. Dr. Jonas Fortas, a Principal Scientist here in the mountain. Mr. Sudler, does the medallion do something?” Dr. Fortas asked, pointing at my chest.
“Yes. I believe it enhances the available thought power for the devices. It is the only reason we survived the attack in Woodland Park. The shield failed under the assault from the Wraith Psi team. Without the medallion for backup power, we would have died.”
“Wraith? Who or what is a Wraith Psi team? Could you explain, please?” Lieutenant General Ames asked.
“We discovered the mercenaries who attacked the rock shop in Woodland Park work for a corporation called Wraith, Ltd. They are a bionic-enhanced, astral-capable, combat group,” I said.
Jaws dropped and eyes bulged around the room.
Admiral Barsin, face enraged, slammed his fist on the table.
“How the hell has someone developed this technology without us even remotely knowing about it, Jack?” He glared directly at the lead member of the dark suits, Homeland Special Agent in Charge Jack Morgan.
Clenching his jaw, Morgan said, “It’s clear someone with deep pockets effectively managed intel around this technology, Admiral.”
Scowling, Admiral Barsin sat back. “These revelations blindsided U.S. intelligence, and that includes the Northern Command. Are there any other abilities you are capable of, Mr. Sudler?”
“Yes. Perhaps a demonstration is best. One enhanced ability is telekinesis.” While I hadn’t practiced this much, the devices mentioned I could levitate and move things with my mind. Focusing on the large conference table, I willed it to rise slowly in the air. It didn’t budge.
“The table has some psionic inertia,” I said.
“How convenient,” Morgan said.
“Enough, Jack,” Admiral Barsin said.
I concentrated, straining while blanking out everything else. A sense of power flowed into my mind, and the table shifted and began to rise. People snatched their hands away from it as if snake-bit.
“Major Randall, do you have anything to add to Mr. Sudler’s statement?” the admiral asked.
“No sir. Lane laid it out. Whatever that creature was in Woodland, it sure as hell wasn’t normal.”
The background noise escalated amid curses and exclamations. Lively side discussions and hurried phone calls disrupted the meeting. After ten more minutes, the video-camera staffer stopped filming at a nod from Admiral Barsin.
“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s clear we’ve been caught with our pants down. Senior staff will reconvene in two hours in the command capsule to discuss the implications and our response to this attack on U.S. soil. Mr. Sudler, thank you for coming forward, and your heroic actions in preventing what would have been a national disaster. This facility houses our research team investigating paranormal anomalies of this nature. Dr. Juchaine and Dr. Fortas are our Principal Investigators for the project. We would like you and your team to work with them to further our understanding of this phenomenon.”
“Sounds good to me, and thank you.”
Kane nodded as well.
“Outstanding. That’s a wrap then,” Admiral Barsin said.
The conference broke up as side conversations, aides, and suits followed the brass hats out of the Octagon like bees in pursuit of honey jars. Agent Morgan scowled at me for long seconds then stormed out with several other agents in tow.
After everyone left the room, Dr. Fortas and Dr. Juchaine walked over.
“Well, that went better than my imaginings,” Dr. Juchaine said. Her brown eyes regarded me for a moment as her lips curled into a half-smile.
“If follow please, Mr. Sudler, perhaps more details we get and bring you knowledges on our facility?”
“Sure, I’m fairly certain they won’t let me leave anyway,” I said.
“No. They won’t, son.” Dr. Fortas laughed.
# # #
Back inside the sleep lab, Dr. Fortas pointed to the sleep chamber as he lifted the hinged lid.
“The four sensory deprivation chambers, you see here, were designed to generate fast, astral insertion via wave resonance in the brain. They use float technologies to keep total sensory input low. Quantum harmonics trigger astral projections via the brains thought holographic.”
He had already lost me with the techno-babble, but I listened politely.
He waved his liver-spotted hand proudly around the four white chambers. They looked like over-sized coffins with tangles of wiring sprouting from their sides.
“Quantum entangled meshes create an entrainment medium that allows electromagnetic resonators to entrain the quantum states of the brain,” he puffed proudly. “It’s truly space age, beyond state-of-the-art technology, and perhaps the next evolutionary state of humankind.”
“Yes, truly amazing technology, Dr. Fortas,” I responded. No clue what he said. Looking inside, I saw the chambers filled with something watery.
Dr. Fortas thrust a wrinkled hand into the solution and let it wash through his fingers. He turned to look at me, and his bulbous nose flared in excitement.
“Please, just call me Jonas. That’s not water you see in there. It’s a nutrient-rich solution designed to keep the skin from wrinkling under long immersions in the tank. The solution is cycled and purified to account for normal body function. A constant positive water flow away from the skin keeps toxins from contaminating the sleeper. Technically, you could stay in there for days with no serious side-effects, physiologically speaking. It even has an extendable feeding tube. The nutrients are similar to the pastes used by astronauts and come in many flavors!” He smiled, nodding to thin air as he gestured with his hands.
Good God, paste. I can barely control myself.
He continued, “Sorry, it’s hard to restrain my enthusiasm when I describe this marvel. This machine allows a user to go from a fully alert state to an astral state, with full projection, in just a few minutes!”
“Ah,” I said, finally understanding what the machines did other than act as a full-body water closet.
“To interface with the chamber, you have to be fully undressed. To help with getting you in the tank in the shortest amount of time, you will need to wear a special umm … uniform. Like a fireman, you see. It’s important to get on the scene as quickly as possible, so to speak.” He held up a shiny garment the size of a hand glove. “This is a full-coverage, thermal body suit with quick-release seams running down the body, arms, and legs. You need to wear this at all times, and nothing else.”
I’m pretty sure the look on my face confirmed my no-friggin-way-attitude. I wasn’t a model of physical prowess. Over the years, sitting in a chair, coding, had caused a bit of tummy bulge and loose muscle tissue. A jelly bean had better body contours than I did.
“Where’s the strip club? You’re going to be a big hit, Lane,” Kane said as he and Julie walked into the room.
The sparkle in Julie’s eyes told me she was trying hard to suppress a giggle. I glared at them both.
; “Not amused,” I said.
“Well. It was our hope we could field a team of four,” Dr. Fortas quipped and looked at Kane.
“Oh. Hell, no. I’m not going to get into that thing!” Kane snapped.
“Isn’t your motto ‘Ready to Lead, Ready to Follow, Never Quit’?” I asked.
His surprised expression changed to suspicion. He gave me a crusty scowl and snorted.
“Cute. You’ve been doing your homework.”
“We aligned the chamber resonance so, in theory, the team will see and interact with each other while in the projection state. This creates an environmental group construct, so everyone sees the same thing,” Doc said.
Kane replied with another snort.
Dr. Juchaine stepped up and motioned with her hand.
“Please, call me TJ,” Dr. Juchaine said. “Over here is quantum computer.”
It looked like a large, walk-in meat locker with four submarine periscopes in the middle.
“Much of structure for temperature to control,” TJ explained. “Dr. Jeff Summers, our quantum tech,” TJ said, pointing to a nerdy guy sitting at a keyboard close to the chamber.
Jeff’s freckles matched his sandy hair. He stretched his lanky frame, got up, and came over, extending a hand. His eyes had the same intense gaze I’d seen on many computer guys when they were in “the zone” chasing data streams and algorithms.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, pumping my hand.
“It’s impressive,” I remarked.
“It’s an experimental model using photonic light-chips, diamond cores, and other modifications.”
“I can’t wait to get to know how it works.”
The necessities of camaraderie over, Jeff headed back over to his console and, within seconds, had zoned out, immersed in whatever he was doing. I could relate. Machines were so much easier to deal with than people and cats! Damn, I’d forgotten about Phats and Monk.
“Julie, I need to feed my cats. Can I talk to someone to go over to my house?”
“Sure, Lane. If you give me your house keys, I’ll see to it they are fed. In fact, we can bring them back here,” she said. “I have some paperwork we need to do. Your contract for work on the project, some clearance processing documents, and official badges,” she explained.
For the next several hours we shuffled documents, got everything signed, fingerprinted, and stamped. I’m surprised they didn’t staple one of those tracking tags to my ear like the wildlife researchers do to animals.
I found myself alone in my room at last. A soft plaintive meow came from under the chair.
“Hey, boys.” I opened their cages. Phats came out right away and nuzzled my hand. I scratched Phats behind the ears while Monk observed from inside his cage. I found their dishes and food in a sack and got them fed.
# # #
Special Agent in Charge Jack Morgan - NORAD visiting VIP office
“Jack, here is the report you wanted on unusual events at the CMC for the last few months,” Agent Frank Halcomb said.
“Thanks, Frank. What does it say?” Agent Morgan flipped through the report.
“A contractor died of a heart attack a week ago. That’s about it.”
“Where did he die?”
“Over near the high-voltage power generators.”
“Okay, I’ll take a look in a bit. Thanks, Frank.”
“The contractor was young, with no history of heart disease. Apparently, he dropped dead in his tracks without warning,” Frank said.
“Something stinks here,” Jack said.
“Agreed. I’m heading over to Northern Command.” He walked off as Jack read the report
Jack secured his FN Five-seven pistol in a hip holster, slipped on his suit jacket, and strode out of the office.
# # #
The buzz in his mind wouldn’t stop. Groggy, Jack opened his eyes. The hotel phone next to the bed buzzed again.
“What the …” His crumpled black suit wrapped over him where he had fallen onto the bed. He picked up the phone.
“Jack, what the hell are you doing? Did you oversleep? Everyone’s waiting for you on base. Best move your ass, buddy.”
“Frank?” Jack said.
“Yes, Jack. It’s Frank. You need help?”
“No. No. I’m fine. I’ll be there shortly.” Jack hung up the phone.
Jack swung his legs off the bed and stood up. His head throbbed like he had been drinking all night.
“Jesus-God, what the hell happened?”
Looking down, Jack saw his hip holster was empty.
“Where is my gun?”
# # #
Lane
The smell of eggs, bacon, and biscuits greeted me in the hallway the next morning. Just around a turn, the hall opened up into a kitchenette area. Julie sat at one of the tables in the small dining area surrounded by large trays filled with scrambled eggs, stacks of bacon, biscuits and sausage gravy, home-style. On the side was a large bowl of sliced fruit and melon.
“Morning, Lane,” Julie said.
Kane scowled from a corner while reading a newspaper. He looked like a gorilla in spandex. His sleeper outfit barely confined his bulges as ripped muscles stretched it to the verge of tearing.
“You forgot to wear your disco suit,” he said.
Bleary eyed, I looked at him for a moment and realized he’d continue to harass me until I got into the suit.
“Damn.”
I returned, all-a-glitter, and helped myself to a tray. Grabbing a hot pot of coffee, I poured a cup and filled it with sugar and cream. The velcro was unfriendly with several sensitive areas on my skin and I constantly pulled at the material.
“What’s on the agenda today?” I managed while shoveling food in my mouth.
“Well. We have business meetings most of the day, and I think Dr. Fortas wants to run you through the sleeper a few times. We also need to do a more intensive medical exam on you with x-rays, and research would like to exam your medallion and the alien tech with some instruments they have at Peterson AFB if you’re okay with that. We can set that up tomorrow?” Julie said.
“Sure. As long as they don’t try to remove them.”
“Of course,” Julie said.
After breakfast, Doc, Kane, and I spent most of the day going over the operation of the sleeper unit.
Julie flitted about from conversation to conversation like a hummingbird. Short teleconferences were common as various agencies requested additional details about the devices, the Wraith team, and the series of events leading up to the attack. Julie did a masterful job of hosting the meetings.
During a lull, Doc and TJ had the sleepers warmed up and ready. Kane kept shaking his leg and pulling at his crotch. I could relate to his pained expression, and the obvious pinching where no pinching should be.
“Don’t say it, Lane!” he snapped. “I’m considering free-ballin’ it and to hell with this cursed spandex.”
The garments did appear better suited for women.
With the sound of ripping velcro, we both got into our chambers. We floated on the surface while a small cradle kept our heads and ears above the water level.
Doc leaned into the chamber. “Everything comfortable in here, gentlemen?” he said while snapping sensors on my skin. I just nodded, and he closed the lid. It was dark. Within moments, I felt a resonant hum vibrate the solution, massaging my body. The resonance got louder. My eyes moved to the rhythm.
After a sensation of disorientation, I floated near the ceiling.
Kane floated next to me. He looked a little nervous and jerked his legs and arms as if swimming.
“Relax, Kane. Follow my lead, and we will try a few maneuvers,” I thought at him.
Startled, he replied, “Okay, we just think at each other right?”
“Yup, and don’t go through any windows or doors.”
Shield On
The faint blue shield enveloped both of us as I grabbed his silver cord. I pulled him behind me like Diedra had done
to me. We rose through the rock, and the upper rooms of the CMC, and exited out the mesquite-covered top of Cheyenne Mountain. It was brighter than usual, with dusky overtones around rock outcroppings. The Colorado Springs vortex rotated to the north. Its sinewy thought-tendrils twisted in brilliant colors.
“You sure this is safe? Will we fall?” Kane asked.
“Everything is thought-based. Just don’t panic and you’ll be fine,” I said.
The three peaks of Cheyenne Mountain rose around us as we hovered about thirty meters off the ground. On the middle peak, I noticed a wide-spaced grid of faint silver lines, much like the lines I saw at Wolf Creek. I figured it must be the mountain-top antenna farm. The terrain rippled with hazy spruce trees, crevices, and old mine shafts that shifted up and down in slow beats.
“Watch my hand movements and try to follow me through some flight exercises.”
I showed him going up, down, barrel rolls, quick stops, fast ascents and descents, and everything else I had learned from long evening practices. Kane mastered the maneuvers with ease. We psi-walked a long while, but I knew time could be tricky. It may be less than a minute or maybe hours. We flew around and through the city vortex and swam in the various thought streamers, while comparing notes on how they made us feel. We even tried an afterburner-like climb straight up, going vertical in the astral. I enjoyed working with a partner. It amplified the emotions like we were greater than the sum of the parts. The prospect of two more members thrilled me. Companions validated the experience and created more impact, more power.
Curious.
“My God, imagine what an entire country could do, linked in the astral. The amplified projection of impact would be earth-shattering.”
“Yeah, that it would, Lane,” Kane replied.
Back at the Cheyenne Mountain antenna farm, we smiled and gushed like school girls as we recounted our adventures. I glanced past Kane and froze. A man-sized, prismatic sphere hovered behind him. Seeing my expression, Kane turned. We both stared in silence. Foot-long spikes extended and rippled on its surface as the sphere turned into a cube then into a teardrop.