by Dean M. Cole
She had heard from fellow astronauts that the landing could be quite traumatic.
The radar altimeter continued its digital countdown.
Angela could feel her adrenaline ramping up with each lost meter of altitude.
Teddy began to read off the numbers.
“One hundred meters.”
“Fifty!”
“Forty!”
Bill shook his head. “Shit! Sideward drift just red-lined!”
Teddy continued his countdown. “Thirty!”
“Twenty!”
“Ten—!”
A loud boom rang the module like a bell as the landing rockets fired.
Soyuz crunched into the ground, and it felt as if a speeding truck had slammed into the back of Angela’s seat. The whole thing left her ears ringing and her body stunned.
Suddenly, the module tilted.
At the same moment, Bill reached up and swung his hand at the parachute disconnect button.
The capsule yanked sideways, and the major’s glove missed its target and impacted the panel beside the switch.
Soyuz slammed onto its side and then began to shutter and skip as the parachute dragged it across the ground.
Their arms and legs flailed as the module bounced violently, lurching back into the air.
Bill tried to hit the disconnect button, but his hand missed the target again.
“Son of a—!”
As he cursed, Major Peterson swung at the button a third time, but a painful jolt cut off his words and knocked his hand aside. A tremendous report resonated through the module. It sounded as if they’d crashed into something.
The force of the impact launched the craft back into the air.
Angela’s abdominal muscles clenched as she became weightless again.
Major Peterson took advantage of the drop in G-forces to reach up and smack the release button.
Another loud report rang out as the parachute finally disconnected.
The module dropped.
Bill’s eyes went round. “Oh shit!”
Soyuz slammed into the ground.
The three of them whipped around as the craft tumbled end over end.
Checklists swirled around the interior of the cabin.
In a moment of dilated time, Angela watched as the box that contained the mice tumbled through the air as if in slow motion.
Her eyes went wide.
“No!”
She tried to reach for the box, but then her head snapped back and forth within her helmet, sending sharp pains down her neck.
Everything stopped with a final lurch, all movement ceasing.
The module fell quiet. Only the sound of Soyuz’s spinning gyros and the raspy breaths of its three human occupants remained to fill the sudden void.
In the surreal silence, Angela stared at the now mud-covered glass portal.
After doing a mental inventory of her body and not feeling anything that seemed worse than the rest, Angela looked at Teddy and Bill. “You guys alright?”
The two men looked at her and nodded.
“Me, too.”
She grabbed the box-o-mice. Lifting it to eye level, Angela peered into one of the air holes. She released a held breath when she saw Mack and Nadine stirring within. They appeared to be unhurt by their momentary return to zero-G and its violent end.
Angela and her crewmates removed their helmets and began to disentangle themselves from their seat harnesses.
Teddy opened the hatch.
Moving slowly, struggling with the returned gravity, Angela set aside the mice and climbed through the opening.
She dropped awkwardly onto the ground.
Having landed on all fours, Angela stood and looked across the field of waving golden wheat stalks. It seemed as if they had fallen into a sea of the stuff.
In the distance, the discarded parachute lumbered across the plains like a giant, red and white tumbleweed.
Angela turned to inspect the exterior of the module. She blinked in surprise and guffawed. “Where on earth did that come from?”
Bill was watching the slowly tumbling parachute. “What?”
Teddy turned, and a short laugh burst from his lips. Then he tilted his head as he read the words scrawled across the wooden plank. “Wilson’s Seed and Feed?” He looked at Angela, confusion twisting his face. How did that get attached to the outside of Soyuz? Is this an American practical joke?”
Shaking her head, Angela leaned in and studied the board. The stub of a broken antenna protruded from the center of the sign. She pointed at it. “Looks like it got impaled on this.”
Angela stood upright and stepped around the heavily damaged module, inspecting its exterior as she did. Mud covered the outside of the thing, and shredded, yellow stalks of wheat protruded from its every nook and cranny.
Looking up, Angela stopped in her tracks. “Oh my …!”
Bill and Teddy walked up and stood next to her. The three of them stared in shocked silence at the trail of carnage wrought by the tumbling passage of the Soyuz.
“Guess we know where the sign came from.”
“Da, Command-Oh.”
A highway and a roadside billboard sat at the far end of the trail of savaged earth. The large, wooden sign now sported a new, Soyuz-shaped hole. The module had passed through the panel, leaving a cut-out silhouette like Wile E. Coyote riding an Acme rocket.
Bill shook his head. “Well, if that don’t beat all …”
Dragging her eyes from the surreal image, Angela searched the sky but could see no helicopter.
The south wind whipped her matted hair.
Looking right, she watched the dark storm clouds that lined the distant western horizon, but at the moment, only a steel-gray pall hung low overhead.
Clad only in their thin-skinned Soyuz environmental suits, the three of them crossed their arms, hugging themselves against the worst of the cold, damp wind. They stooped as if pressed down by the low ceiling of clouds.
Teddy stepped back to the module. When the man returned, he handed each of them a parka. Then he patted Angela on the shoulder. “Here you go, Command-Oh.”
He placed a small radio in her hand. It looked like a walkie-talkie.
Angela had trained on its use. She raised it and pressed the appropriate button. Then she saw movement on the southern horizon and released the transmit key without saying anything.
She pointed. “Here they come.”
The three of them watched as the helicopter slowly approached, its noise growing louder with each passing moment.
Angela placed hands over her ears as the sound rose to painful levels. Nervous anticipation had her stomach doing loops. That was silly. She had been apart from Vaughn for barely a day. So why was she so nervous?
The large, dark helicopter approached to within a couple of dozen meters and then set down.
Angela tilted her head as she realized there were more than just two pilots in the aircraft. The silhouettes of two additional occupants lined the interior of the helicopter.
The roar of the turbines died a few moments later, and the rotor blades coasted to a stop.
The three spacesuited crewmates exchanged confused glances.
The doors of the helicopter flew open. Four people that Angela had never seen exited the aircraft.
Major Peterson shook his head. “I’ll be a son of a bitch.” He started to walk toward the group. Glancing over his shoulder, he pointed ahead. “That’s Chance Bingham.”
Chapter 12
Before Major Peterson could complete two steps, his legs buckled, and he fell to his knees, nearly disappearing in the waist-high wheat.
The thin, tight-faced man that Angela took for Commander Bingham ran up to Bill and helped him back to his feet. “Easy there, mate. Give yourself a moment to get reacquainted with gravity.”
As he helped Bill, Bingham looked past him. Staring at the crumpled Soyuz, he winced. “Are all of you okay?”
Angela rubbed the back of he
r neck. “Tomorrow, we’ll probably feel like we’ve been hit by a Mack truck, but nothing’s broken.”
Breathing heavily, Bill smiled and nodded. “Nothing damaged but my pride.”
Bingham dipped his head and backed up a step. He extended an arm. “Good to see you, Major Peterson.”
Bill batted away the offered hand. “Get the hell out of here with that.”
Surprise supplanted the confused look on the Brit’s face when the major wrapped the man in a hug and slapped his back.
“Come on, you uptight, old fart. Loosen up.” Releasing the man, Peterson patted the wing commander’s shoulder. “Good to see you, Chance.”
Bingham recovered from his apparent shock, a tight smile returning to his face. He nodded. “I only wish it could have been under different circumstances.”
Bill’s smile faded.
Everyone fell silent and stared at the ground.
A moment later, the sound of another helicopter insinuated itself into the funereal quietude.
They turned to see a black dot traversing the northern horizon.
Remembering the radio in her hand, Angela raised it and then saw that its volume was down. She twisted the knob. Vaughn’s voice crackled through the speaker. His words had a panicked edge to them. “—Come in! Repeat, Soyuz One, this is Nebraska Ground! … Come in, Angela!”
Raising the device to her lips, Angela pressed the transmit key. “Captain Singleton, you’re flying in the wrong direction.”
“Angela?! Where are you?”
She started to squeeze the walkie-talkie’s button but then flinched as a loud pop came from her right side. Turning toward the sound, she saw Teddy lowering a wide-muzzled gun as a bright, red flare arched overhead. Looking up, he chuckled. “Yippee-ki-yay, mother effers!”
The aircraft banked left, turning toward them. “I see you. We’ll be there in a … Wait, is that another helicopter?”
“Yeah, the Houston team just arrived.”
A few moments later, the aircraft landed nearby, joining the odd collection of crafts in the center of the angry sea of wheat stalks.
Even with her limited knowledge of helicopters, Angela could tell that this one was of the same make and model as the aircraft in which the Houston crew had arrived. However, the one that Mark and Vaughn were in had a glossy black and gold paint scheme with US Customs markings instead of the flat-finished, dark olive drab sported by the Army model.
Angela felt her heart racing again as she craned her neck, trying to spot Vaughn. However, both pilots were wearing flight helmets with dark visors.
The emotions and anticipation that coursed through Angela made her realize that one very important fact had escaped her during their weeks and then months of traveling through alien worlds and dimensions: she had fallen madly and deeply in love with Vaughn Singleton.
The two men emerged from the helicopter and began to remove their helmets.
Spotting Vaughn, Angela smiled. A warm glow filled her.
Wide-eyed, Vaughn gaped at the destroyed sign and then at the trail of blasted wheat stalks. Finally, he stared at the hammered Soyuz module. “Oh shit!” He looked at her. “Are you okay—?”
A grunt burst from the man as Angela crashed into Vaughn and threw her arms around him. Standing on shaky legs, she rained kisses on his scruffy cheeks. “I missed you, Vaughn.”
He pulled her tight to him and kissed her deeply. Then Angela buried her face in the crook of his neck and breathed in his scent.
Vaughn kissed her cheek. “I …” He swallowed. “I missed you, too.”
They held each other for a long moment.
When the two of them finally peeled apart, Angela turned and blushed as she saw the other seven survivors staring at them with mixed emotions. She instantly felt guilty as a palpable sense of loss poured from each of them.
After exchanging embarrassed glances, she and Vaughn released each other’s hands. Then they walked over and joined the group.
They spent the next few minutes making introductions and sharing stories of what they’d seen while en route to this field. The described condition of the cities and countryside matched too closely with what Vaughn had encountered the first time he’d traversed this freshly vacated vision of the apocalypse, eliminating Angela’s faint hope that her and Vaughn’s return had somehow ameliorated or changed the event. The cities were again burning, and there was no evidence that even the smallest insect had remained in the wake of the light’s passage.
The Houston team included only four people—three astronauts and one civilian—instead of the anticipated five. When Angela had asked about the missing crew member, they told her that they’d lost the person in the chamber, but they didn’t go into details. The looks on their faces had told her all she needed to know.
Peaking her brows, Angela stepped over to the two other women. The tall African-American woman extended a hand. A warm smile suddenly blossomed on her previously severe visage. “Hello, Doctor Brown. I am Doctor Gheist, but you can call me Monique.”
Angela shook the proffered hand. “Please, call me Angela.”
“I shall. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Monique articulated her words precisely and didn’t appear to use contractions. The woman’s mannerisms and formal way of speaking at first seemed at odds with her warm smile, but Angela sensed that Monique had a heart warmer than her tone would imply.
Tilting her head, Monique continued. “I must admit to being a bit of a fan. I have followed your work on gravity waves with rapt attention. Your thesis on the parallels between electromagnetic waves and gravity waves was inspired.”
Feeling her face flush, Angela nodded. “Thank … Thank you, Monique.”
The stocky Asian woman stepped up. She had a bright smile that seemed to light the air around her.
Angela decided she liked the woman before she even opened her mouth.
Returning the grin, she extended a hand. “I’m Angela Brown.”
The lady’s smile went supernova. Stepping up, she hugged Angela, wrapping her in arms that felt as hard as lumber. “I’m so goddamn glad to meet you.”
Angela’s feet left the ground as the slightly taller woman lifted her as if she were made of paper.
Sensing Angela’s current frailness, the lady gently placed her back on the ground and then backed away. “Sorry. Got a little carried away.”
The woman shook her hand firmly but without inducing pain. As she did, the muscles in the visible portion of her forearm rippled. “Hi, Angela, I’m Rachel.”
“Pleased to meet you, Rachel. Since you were the one flying the helicopter, I take it you’re Major Lee.”
The woman dipped her head.
They all looked west as the sound of distant thunder rolled across the plains.
After a moment, Angela looked back to see everyone staring at her.
“What?”
The group exchanged furtive glances. Then Wing Commander Chance Bingham shrugged. “I’ll say it.” He fixed Angela with a steely stare. “What is your plan, Commander Brown?” He gestured at their surroundings. “How do we stop all of this from happening in the first place? How do we reset the timeline and bring back our families?”
The wind blew Angela’s hair across her face. She swept it aside and then looked each of them in the eye. “I saw something the last time I was logged into the collider’s computer system. Right before I started the overload that sent us back in time, back to the beginning, I saw the last dataset for the final run of collisions, the ones that led to the Necks invading.”
Bingham shrugged. “So?”
“I found something, something that gave me an idea.”
Lieutenant Gheist nodded encouragingly. “What was it?”
“There were at least two black holes formed that day.”
“What do bleeding black holes have to do with this?”
Angela blinked and stared at the Brit for a moment. Then she scanned the faces of the team
. She knew Bill and Teddy understood. She’d already told them how micro black holes tied to the invasion. Mark Hennessy was nodding, so Vaughn must have filled in the man on her theory. However, confusion clouded the faces of the four members who’d come from Houston.
“Sorry. Guess I left out that part.” Angela spent the next several minutes telling them about her and Vaughn’s journey. She limited the briefing to the highlights, telling them about the machine city and its robotic citizens. She spoke of being trapped in a repeating time loop that carried them across multiple versions of Earth, of Hell, and of truly alien species. Then she briefed them on the Necks and the Taters and how the latter broadcast a light that had beamed them to Hell on numerous occasions. She steered the conversation away from the subject before anyone could connect the dots and ask if that light had anything in common with the one that had swept life from the planet. Not ready to reveal to the group the true fate of their family and friends, she purposely left out anything about the mountain of the dead they’d discovered in Hell.
For most of her impromptu briefing, the group had listened in rapt silence. When someone would start asking too many questions, Vaughn would cock an eyebrow and point a thumb at the approaching storm. “Later.”
After casting a furtive glance at Vaughn, Monique raised a hand.
Angela pointed at her. “Go ahead.”
“This is all … incredible.”
“I assure you, it’s all true—”
“No, no, no. Sorry. I believe you.” She looked across the land. “Once you have seen a world wiped clean of life by the mere passage of a light wave, it is not difficult to accept all manner of things. No, I simply wanted to ask how all of this ties into your discovery in the dataset? What is the significance of the black holes?”
“I was coming to that, but I wanted you to understand what we had seen and experienced first.”
Monique nodded and held out a hand. “Sorry, please continue.”
After seeing Vaughn cast a wary glance at the encroaching weather, Angela turned back to the group. She told them of her theory that the Necks used the micro black holes generated by powerful proton collisions to open links to dimensions outside their own. She gave them a quick class on the theory that black holes bridged the multiverse, touching all dimensions equally. Then Angela told them how they had discovered that the Necks used that bridge to lock onto parallel universes and anchor stable, transdimensional wormholes to them. Finally, she explained that she and Vaughn had seen the proof of it across multiple dimensions while they had been trapped in the time loop.
