Shadows

by Brian Whiting

  “When should we tell the girls?” she asked.

  Grissom looked at the pad as it was still vibrating loudly, constantly. Which was a bit odd.

  “I haven’t thought about—”

  Their joyous moment was cut short as the emergency sirens for the UEF complex began to blare loudly across the landscape.

  “What is it?” she yelled as Grissom made a dash to his tablet. Glancing at the screen his eyes bulged.

  “Sergeant!” he yelled.

  “Yes, sir,” the man said, as he rushed into the room.

  “You are to escort my wife to the UEF bunker complex and stay with her at all times until I instruct you otherwise.”

  “Sir, I am ordered to protect you—”

  “My wife, sergeant!” Grissom yelled.

  “Yes, sir,” the man responded quickly as he snapped to attention.

  “What’s going on?” Grissom’s wife asked.

  “I’ve got to go, you’ll be safe.” Grissom stormed out of the room at a jog. One of his entourage handed him an earpiece, which he immediately put on and activated.

  “—each moment,” said someone whose voice he didn’t recognize.

  “It’s simultaneous, we have eighteen attacks occurring at the same time around the planet, and the number is growing.” Grissom recognized this voice as Cindy’s.

  “Catch me up to speed!” Grissom said.

  “Sir, it seems the Zorn have launched a coordinated ground attack,” a voice not all that dissimilar from Symboli’s stated.

  Grissom made it to the front door, opened it and saw that a ground-based UEF transport vehicle was parked just outside the building. The sounds of very heavy-caliber machine-gun fire erupted from somewhere. Grissom stepped into the vehicle, sat, and buckled himself into the restraints.

  “How are we looking?” Grissom asked.

  “I do not—” the artificial voice started.

  “A swarm of about one hundred and eighty or so drones are approaching fast from the east. East towers are engaging at long range.” Said the pilot of the transport.

  “Brandy will be on station in thirty seconds, I’m two minutes behind her,” Jerome’s voice came over his earpiece.

  “Get me to the ship now!” Grissom shouted at the pilot.

  The pilot who was now driving the ground vehicle knew better than to argue while not following the last order given, so he pulled on the controls and drove the vehicle to the hangar. “Sir, there’s no ships there, they are all on assignment.”

  “Not all of them.”

  Grissom glanced over to his left and pointed to a tiny ground-based shuttle.

  “Sir, that’s not space-worthy,” the pilot said.

  “Neither was the SUV Surprise, but they managed to dock with the ISS. We are going up.”

  Moments later he looked out a tiny window set in the wall of the container transport. He could see the muzzle flash of several fifty-caliber machine guns from various turrets on the perimeter, then small stars began to fly out as well from various taller buildings. All the firepower was converging on the approaching swarm of drones far off in the desert distance.

  “Sir, Atlanta’s perimeter has been breached, drones are in the perimeter.” Someone said from the control room within the TIC.

  Grissom stood up and walked forward to the pilot and pointed to space, saying, “Get me up to the UEF Discovery.”

  In his earpiece, he heard on-duty commanders from the TIC giving out orders to the ground-based security forces.

  The shuttle brightened as the startup sequence finished.

  Grissom turned back to the others in the shuttle. “Look, I’m taking the Discovery into orbit,“ he said. “If you aren’t being helpful, you can stay here, volunteers only.” Grissom said as he considered the wisdom of taking all these people into orbit in an unspaceworthy vessel.

  “Major, the ship isn’t finished yet,” he heard Cindy say into his earpiece.

  “Don’t you think I know that? I also know that the Surprise wasn’t finished when Alex flew the ship around Disney. The ships can take it.” he replied.

  His team looked at each other with a bit of trepidation. A few in his entourage left the shuttle. Grissom looked at the pilot, who seemed as if he had been punched in the gut. “And you’re the pilot, so you don’t get a choice,” Grissom said. “Let’s go!”

  They buckled in and the shuttle lifted up off the concrete.

  More than half his team got on board with him. He rolled his eyes; not half of them had any business coming onboard the ship, what with their lack of training. Come to think of it, he himself didn’t have much business going up there, either. The shuttle quickly darted out of the hangar and shot up into the sky as they made their way to Brandon Memorial Shipyard.

  “Mr. Grissom, I have been monitoring the situation. Are you going to take control of the ship?” an artificial voice stated.

  “Yes.”

  “My name is 2413, pleased to meet you. I am pressurizing the cargo bay as I speak. You will need to don the EVA suits if you intend on making it to the bridge. I am ordering the construction crews off the ship. A few are being insistent that they cannot leave.”

  “Leave those ones on. What’s the status of the ship?”

  “The ship is exposed to space on all decks, Reactor Two installation is still in progress. Reactor One is functioning. All decouplers are installed and functioning. No other weapons have been installed. Aside from propulsion and the computer systems, no other ship systems are functioning.”

  It wasn’t long before the major and his team were looking out a tiny window at the large ship called Discovery sitting in the shipyard. Half the outer hull had not been installed. Some parts of the ship looked like a skeleton.

  “We can make it work,” Grissom said, trying to convince himself.

  Just then someone yelled into his earpiece from the TIC. “Perimeter breach!”

  Chapter 7

  Groundhog

  “Rise and shine, buddy… Well, come to think of it, maybe rise and work. No, that’s too depressing. How about rise and eat? Yeah, that’s it… I got freshly cooked eggs and toast with jam… mmmmm.”

  “Ugh,” was Timmy’s only response.

  “Come on, we are starting the R’s today. We’re nearly there,” Pete offered.

  “You do it!”

  “You know I would, buddy, but god only speaks to you. Come on!” Pete flipped the tent flap open, the light from the tunnel flooded into the darkened space.

  “Why?” Timmy shouted and flopped a pillow over his head, but tossed it away when he realized it was damp.

  “We have got to wash our stuff!” Timmy shouted. He had said these words every day upon waking for the last week. He reached over and began the disgusting chore of choosing the least-smelly underwear and shorts or pants he could find. They had abandoned shirts a while ago.

  After settling on what had also been yesterday’s selection, Timmy walked out of the tent. He looked to his right. The electric cart was parked right there, ready to be used for much-needed chores. He looked left, where a plate of cooked food was ready and waiting for him to devour. The orb was blank and peaceful in the background, and Pete was sitting in front of the computer waiting for Timmy to arrive.

  With a grunt, Timmy stepped left, walked toward the food, and sat down in front of it.

  “Those are the last of the eggs, we really do have to resupply sometime today,” Pete said, anxiously twisting the computer chair from side to side.

  Timmy inhaled slowly and let out an exaggerated breath. Picking up the fork he forced himself to eat the eggs.

  “I’ve been thinking—” Pete began.

  “You don’t say.” Timmy responded sarcastically.

  Pete squinted at Timmy. “How will the orb know when you’re done with the words? I mean, it stopped making you count at a thousand. What if you say ‘zebra,’ and it doesn’t do anything?”

  “I don’t think ‘zebra’ is the last word.�
� Timmy cocked his head to the side.

  “Yeah, OK, but you get my point, right?”

  “Yesterday there were two hundred and twelve words that didn’t translate, like palpate, quarterly, quiet, quaint.” Even though Timmy knew the answer he would get from his friend, he asked anyway: “Any theories why?

  “No.”

  Timmy sighed deeply again. “Look, I am just as excited as you are to get to the end and figure this thing out right, and I love our little baby-wipe showers we got going on. But I am wearing some pretty stank clothes. I’ve been in this death tunnel for months, seems like; and I am tired of these tiny cots. I’m finishing these eggs, and then I am leaving. I am not coming back until I am clean, rested and I have a real bed in tow.” Timmy shoveled the last of the eggs in his mouth and washed it down with water.

  True to his word, he stood up and started packing all the dirty clothes into a trash bag.

  It was about two hours later when Timmy and Pete pulled up to the main parking area near the support services wing. The area was oddly vacant.

  “You wouldn’t know that there were nearly a hundred thousand people down here not so long ago,” Pete said.

  Timmy ignored him and grabbed two trash bags and walked the quarter mile down a few hallways to the laundry common room. A very large room was lined with washers and dryers. Bottles of laundry soap, softener and fabric sheets were littered around the room. No one seemed to be looking after the room or taking care of it.

  “This is eerie.” Timmy said.

  “Why do I get the feeling everyone evacuated this bunker in a hurry?” Pete replied.

  Just then a loud truck horn blared far in the distance. Muffled arguing followed the sound.

  “Not so alone, I’m sure all is well.” Timmy grabbed his laundry and began depositing the clothes in a series of washers, making no attempt to separate anything.

  “Might be easier to just throw all of these clothes away and grab some new ones.” Pete was looking at a large pile of neatly folded tan t-shirts, almost too closely.

  “Never pegged you as a thief,” Timmy said as he loaded the soap into the various machines. Pete began to do the same.

  Once the machines kicked on, Timmy said, “I’m going to check out the TIC; it’s not that far from here.” He turned to leave. “Are you coming, or do you just want to chill?” He looked at Pete, who had just crashed on a plush sofa and closed his eyes.

  “OK, be back soon.” Timmy walked out of the laundry room and down the long corridor to the command center. He had to descend several flights of stairs, and look at a map on the wall twice but two floors below Timmy finally approached the TIC. There were several people in this area, which put Timmy more at ease.

  He entered the final long hallway to the large fortified doors the protected the TIC. A guard standing in front of the ajar door half raised his weapon.

  “Stop! This area is not for you, turn around and find another way to get to wherever you’re going.”

  Timmy tried to yell but months spent whispering in the confined, echoing tunnel had caught up to him, and he barely managed to croak out a few unintelligible words as he kept walking.

  “Final warning, stop or I’ll shoot!”

  Timmy stopped cleared his throat and tried again. “I am going to the TIC. I have clearance.”

  “If you have clearance, then you can call me Mr. President.”

  Timmy was about to get upset but then took a moment to reflect. He was shirtless, covered in filth, with an exceptionally uncontrolled facial growth. He smiled in reflection.

  “I understand how this looks. My name is Timmy, and I’m going to scan my hand on that scanner next to you. If—”

  “The hell you are!”

  Just then someone walked past Timmy, and from the back Timmy watched him approach the TIC looking well-dressed and ready for work. Timmy cowered behind him while he approached the TIC. The guard slammed the door shut, weapon still half raised.

  “Timmy is that you!” someone shouted from a set of overhead speakers. Timmy found the nearest camera and gave a thumbs-up.

  Moments later the large TIC door opened, and Zeek came strolling out.

  “Damn, you look like—” Zeek started.

  “I know what I look like, thanks.”

  “Wow. Seriously man, you got to take better care of yourselves in there. How’s Pete?”

  “He’s good—” Timmy shrugged his shoulders

  “Making any progress with the orb?” Zeek cut him off.

  “Yeah, we’re making huge progress.”

  Zeek stopped about three feet away from Timmy. Obviously, he had planned on coming in for a hug, but Timmy knew he smelled pungent and didn’t blame Zeek for stopping. The guard behind them lowered his weapon and resumed a more normal stance.

  “No offense, Timmy,” Zeek said, “but please take a shower before you walk through the TIC, and hurry up because a lot has happened since I last saw you. Showers in the gym.”

  Timmy smiled and spun on his heels headed for the main gym.

  He reappeared two hours later. Dressed in some business casual attire, he tentatively walked back up to the security door just outside the TIC. The guard had rotated and didn’t give Timmy a second look as he approached and placed his hand on the scanner. It blinked green and Timmy walked in.

  He stood in awe at the number of additions done to the TIC. A display screen wrapped around the perimeter of the room where the walls met the ceiling. The information that filled the screen was all sorts of relevant: Relayed sensor data from the hovering ship. Camera feeds of tunnels and main entrances and recent alert messages. An abundance of chairs filled the room along with communications officers who sat in them.

  The room was hued in red.

  “What do you think?” Zeek asked from behind Timmy’s left side.

  “What’s going on?” Timmy looked for an explanation for the warning.

  “Well…” Zeek started.

  “Repair team reports the breach is closed,” one of the communications officers shouted.

  “We have confirmation that all local Zorn threats have been eliminated.”

  “Find the source, they were hiding somewhere.” An older UEF officer demanded as he scoured high-altitude photos.

  Timmy snapped his head to Zeek with bewilderment. “The Zorn are alive!”

  Zeek sighed. “Yeah, it seems they sent a number of queens. Those that weren’t killed initially escaped their pods and began laying eggs. They coordinated an attack worldwide.”

  “Discovery reports that the situation is now clear in Atlanta.”

  “The Discovery!” Timmy was even more unbelieving.

  “Major Grissom pulled it off the line to help contain the threat. Just in time, too. The Zorn breached the ATL perimeter and were just starting to cause a significant problem when the Discovery arrived and eliminated the threat. They’ve been holding position while repair teams fixed the perimeter and perimeter teams doubled up at their posts. He literally saved Atlanta.”

  “Wow!” Timmy responded with reverence. Zeek led Timmy away from the central command room and took him to a nearby room for a more intimate conversation.

  “It was a devastating attack, Timmy. Brazil had four out of their six safe zones overrun. Argentina, Chile, Peru… We lost contact with all of their safe zones. My theory is that the queens are breeding heavily in the wooded areas, and their spawn went unchecked until the attack. So far Ecuador had escaped attack, but Colombia was heavily attacked. They held the perimeter. Grissom has half a mind to block off all of South America under quarantine.”

  “What about us? Or our allies?” Timmy asked.

  “It’s the same everywhere. Africa is totally dark, except for those areas protected by perimeters augmented with manned towers. Seems most countries didn’t man the towers, effectively thinking the threat no longer existed. UEF-controlled safe zones were all fully manned thanks to Grissom’s standing order. Despite what happened to Atlanta, most UEF
areas are OK.” Zeek said then continued.

  “Australia again fared very well with minimum losses, United Kingdom is going OK, China is completely dark, were still gathering information on what happened with them. Japan is still under heavy fighting. Our assets are inbound to help, but It’s bad.”

  “What about here in the U.S.?”

  “Yeah, here too, we lost contact with the standing government in the north again. Delaware is dark. Some government zones successfully repelled the attacks. We just didn’t have enough air support to help everyone.”

  “That’s terrible.” Timmy said.

  “Now we have to protect the remaining safe zones while rooting out the Zorn nests before another batch of eggs hatches.” Zeek kept his face solemn and bit his lower lip. “How about you? What’s up with the orb?”

  “Oh….uhh, well, we are translating it.”

  Zeek looked up at Timmy. “Isn’t that what you’ve been doing this whole time?”

  “Well, yeah, but now we are developing a word bank. We got to the Rs before we decided to break and resupply. How are the logistics looking?”

  “Well, we lost contact with the northern shipbuilders. The second set of Destiny-class ships are sitting eighty percent complete, but all sites are dark and not in use. We are continuing to ramp up cargo ship production here at the complex. We now operate over a hundred hulled cargo vessels, ranging from double box to a recent ten-box design, creating larger and larger cargo ships, mainly because we are low on that special material again.” Zeek said.

  “Ah. Well, did you collect from the array in the north?”

  “I knew you knew where it was, but I didn’t know, and Jorge is gone, and then Alex…” Zeek trailed off.

  “What about Alex?”

  “Seems he found another alien race called the Gothans. They attacked, and we haven’t heard from the Enterprise since, it’s been a couple days now.”

  Timmy dropped his head onto the table and sat quietly for a few moments. “I think we all know he was the kind of guy charging toward death, and he couldn’t wait to get there.”

  Zeek’s datapad lit up, and he stood up.