Original Design

by William Latoria

  As he entered his TDH, the scent of long storage hit him hard. He didn’t mind, it was a comforting smell that he had grown accustomed to over a long military career. It reminded him of new experiences and the excitement of the unknown. If a company could bottle it, he would have bought them out of stock. He always felt the most in his element when living in a TDH. Sergeant Wagner waited dutifully outside his door, and Blackshade knew better than to invite her inside. For starters, it would have been inappropriate for a known heterosexual to invite a lower ranking member of the opposite sex into his TDH. Second, the invitation would have possibly made Sergeant Wagner uncomfortable, which he didn’t want to do. Lastly, she would have more than likely refused such an invitation. Possibly citing the regulation on the situation in a reprimanding way.

  Removing the thought from his concern, Blackshade went about inspecting his TDH to ensure there were no obvious flaws in the unit. Occasionally, TDH’s were defective or damaged in transit and if not caught early, could have disastrous results. He recalled an emergency briefing he attended that went over the report of a TDH that had malfunctioned, somehow reverting back into travel mode and returning to its five by seven-foot size. The TDH had an Air Soldier sleeping inside at the time, and the resulting death had been very messy. He recalled one of the Under Colonels in attendance at the briefing fainting at the sight. TDH malfunctions were a very rare occurrence, thankfully, as there were many redundant safety protocols that prevented fatal mishaps from happening. In that situation, it was discovered that the Air Soldier had disabled the fail safes in order to change the auto settings on his air conditioning unit. It was a perfect storm of mistakes and bad judgement that had led to the Air Soldier’s death. He wasn’t really concerned about his TDH switching into storage mode while he was inside, because he had no intention of overriding the safety protocols of his unit. He was looking for more common faults one might find after a TDH had been deployed. Cracks in the walls, or an uneven surface if the TDH hadn’t deployed or calibrated correctly. Possibly a faulty heater or air conditioner or refresher bots that were old or malfunctioning. Once he had a troop whose toilet did not empty properly, and they had to share with their neighbor. The griping those troops had done about that incident still made him chuckle to this day. As he had expected though, after completing his inspection he found no such faults with his TDH. He suspected that Sergeant Wagner had already conducted an inspection of his TDH, and that she had also found none. Opening his mini-fridge, Blackshade removed a bottle of water and walked outside. He offered it to Sergeant Wagner who took it gratefully. Roswell, New Mexico was a desert environment, and even though it was still early morning a good Air Soldier knew to stay hydrated. Thanks to his time on the Omega ship, he had no need for hydration, and if his previous experience was any indication, he didn’t think he would for a long while.

  “Please take me to Colonel Vuloom, Sergeant Wagner.” Blackshade instructed, after she had taken a drink, “I’m ready to report in.”

  Sergeant Wagner nodded briskly and set a good pace towards the center of the encampment. As Blackshade followed her, he continued looking around in order to get a better feel for the base Zahera had set up. He saw that three separate landing zones were being utilized to receive the deceased South Americans. He marveled at the practiced skill and respect the Air Soldiers exhibited as they offloaded the bodies and brought them into buildings to be interred into the containment bags. As they walked, he saw dozens of bodies being offloaded from Sommers’ conveyance transports with a precision and speed that would have made any Commander proud. It was then that he realized Zahera hadn’t been joking when she made her comment to him last night; she was a lot better at this than he was.

  As they approached the first ECP that led deeper into the encampment, three lightly armed Air Soldiers met them; two men and a woman. Knowing the routine, both he and Sergeant Wagner held out their right arms to be scanned. The larger of the two men approached and scanned the tissue ware in their arms looking to verify their identity. It was obvious to him that the man recognized Sergeant Wagner, but the fact that he stuck to protocol and verified her identity anyway spoke volumes for the discipline here. When the man saw his identity though, his bearing cracked.

  “Ambassador Blackshade!” the man said in awe. The man was shorter than he was by an inch or so, but by the way the man looked up at him, he might as well have been an Omega. “Is it true you’ve talked with the aliens?” he asked, star struck.

  “L-1 Mald!” Sergeant Wagner barked at him, “Get back to your post! The Ambassador has no time for you!”

  Blackshade couldn’t help but smile, “It’s ok, Sergeant Wagner, I don’t mind. Part of the reason I’m here is to field questions like this.” he explained, trying to put her at ease. The way she glared at Air Soldier I Mald, he had a feeling they would be having words later, but he knew better than to get in the middle of enlisted politics. Instead, he did what any good officer would have done and pretended he didn’t notice. He switched his attention back to L-1 Mald, “Yes, Sir. I’m the Candaerican Ambassador to the Omegas.” he replied to the man. Getting an answer to his question seemed to embolden him as well as the other two guards at the ECP because they rushed over to join the conversation.

  “What are they like? Are they really giants? I’ve never even seen one other than on the internet. Can you understand them? Everything they say sounds like a muffled rock slide.” they asked curiously. Blackshade laughed.

  “They are nice for the most part and seem to be more curious about us than anything else. They are very large. Fifteen to twenty feet tall and powerfully built, similar to body builders, but with feminine faces and tails. I can understand them and communicate with them often, but yes, their language does sound like rocks falling down a mountain.” he answered their questions in order. The troops laughed nervously. Blackshade saw their training was kicking back in, and now that their initial excitement had run its course, they remembered they were talking to a high ranking Ambassador. It didn’t help matters that a no bullshit Sergeant was standing next to him staring daggers at them. They seemed to fumble on what to do and then stepped out of the way, “You’re clear, Sir. Have a nice day.” Air Soldier I Mald said, suddenly emotionless. Blackshade thought about telling them it was ok, and that they could talk to him, but that would be too close to correcting Sergeant Wagner, and he wouldn’t do that. Offering them a smile, he turned to follow after Sergeant Wagner who had already stomped her way through the ECP.

  He had walked about ten feet from the ECP when Air Soldier I Mald called out, “Ambassador, are the Omegas our friends?”

  The fear he heard in the young man’s voice stopped him cold. He turned around to face him. Printed across his forehead was the word, ‘scared’ which Blackshade understood. He wanted to reassure the man, but he didn’t want to lie to him, “Truthfully, son, I think so. I really do. They’ve done nothing overtly hostile towards us, and the deaths that came from the South American exodus were an accident.” he replied as reassuringly as he could. He motioned towards the landing field where bodies were still being processed, “And as you can see, they have empathy for us, and are going to bring back as many of our deceased as they can. I think if they were our enemies, they wouldn’t bother, don’t you?”

  The relief he saw wash over the young Air Soldier hurt his heart. “Yes, Sir! Thank you, Sir!” Air Soldier I Mald replied earnestly. The words, ‘Thank God’ ran across his forehead. Then, with a truly respectful Candaerican salute, the man turned crisply on his heel and returned to his post. Blackshade was pleased he was able to help the young man, but he knew that if this one troop had given voice to his doubts, many others were at the jagged edge of panic as well. He would have to do something about this before it got out of control.

  He turned around to face Sergeant Wagner, “I need to speak with Colonel Vuloom immediately.” he told her sternly. A look of concern appeared on Sergeant Wagner’s face, and the word, ‘Why’ appeared on her f
orehead, but she didn’t argue. Instead she turned on her heel and quickened her pace to the next ECP. Blackshade didn’t bother to answer any more questions along the way.

  By the time they finally arrived at Zahera’s Command Center, Blackshade was upset. More at himself than anyone else, but his mood was foul because of it. With everything that was happening, it never occurred to him to disseminate the information down to the lower echelons of his chain. These poor kids had no idea what was happening, or how the Human/Omega interactions were proceeding. Now that he thought about it, all of the blogs and articles he had read on the internet were pure conjecture with no interviews with any actual sources or real facts being substantiated. He was disgusted at his oversight and was already composing the message he was going to send to Soearth to correct his gross negligence. They owed the citizens of Candaerica more than this, and he promised himself he would do a better job of disseminating information from now on.

  They found Zahera inside the Command Center going over the day’s reports. Blackshade paused where he stood when he saw her, in order to admire her from a distance. With everything that he had been through over the past few weeks, he had forgotten the effect that seeing her could have on him. Looking at her now, with her head down, concentrating on her work, he thought she looked wonderful.

  Zahera was in her standard issue, Army Air Corp uniform, which was freshly laundered and crisp. It fit her form well and made her look like the personification of professionalism. She had her dark brown hair pulled tightly back into a small bun on the back of her head, well within regulations. Her olive skin was as flawless as ever with just the hint of laugh and frown lines bringing just the right amount of character to her dove-shaped face. Her almond brown eyes were as clear and perceptive as ever. Everything that had been troubling him vanished when he saw her, which was strange because it felt as if he was seeing her for the first time. This was absurd of course, because the two of them had been working together for years. As he watched her, he noticed that this wasn’t the same woman that had been his Under Colonel or his co-worker for most of their careers, this was a full-fledged Colonel in the Candaerican Army Air Corp. Competent, confident, respected, and powerful… and for the first time since he met her, he felt truly drawn to her.

  She looked up as he was gawking and gave him a calculating look before a stunning smile spread across her lips, she rose smoothly from her desk and came to him. The words, ‘he made it’ scrolled across her forehead, which made him flush. His hand began to move towards his cheek before he realized what he was about to do and reasserted control. He didn’t fully understand why he was feeling like this and chastised himself for it. Zahera was one of his closest friends, the Commander of this operation, and deserved to be seen as such rather than… well… what his more romantic side was trying to make him think. Summoning his will, he pushed those thoughts out of his mind and forced himself to focus on the situation at hand. There would be plenty of time later to sort out these new, perverse feelings.

  “Ambassador Blackshade!” Zahera said warmly, “Thank you for coming, I know you’re a busy man, but it’ll do my troops good to see you here for the resurrection. I trust you found your accommodations satisfactory?” she asked, perfunctory. He saw the word, ‘Love’ flash across her forehead and lost his response.

  “Uhh…” was all he could muster as his mind reeled. His resolve melted at the sight of the word on her forehead and with it, so did his vocabulary. What did the word mean? Did she love him? Did she love that he was here? If it was him she loved, was it romantic love? Did she love him like a brother? A friend? Did he love her? Could he? Did he have time for love? These were the myriad of questions that blazed through his head as his heart raced and his temperature rose.

  Zahera looked at him, concerned, “Ambassador? Are you alright? You look a little flush. Do you feel sick? We can have the medic drones check you if you’d like.” she asked him, as she motioned for one of the hovering drones to come down from the ceiling. The words, ‘what did they do to him’ scrolled across her forehead. He was so confused by the words he saw on her forehead display, the words he could only see because the Omegas gave him the ability to see in that spectrum. What he saw on her forehead did not reflect in her voice, or her mannerisms. He had no idea how to reconcile the difference and couldn’t think of what to say. The Air Soldiers in the room were starting to notice and were looking at him warily. He saw words like, ‘Denisovan’, ‘sick’, ‘stupid’, and ‘the Omegas did this’ begin to appear on their foreheads. One woman, an intelligence analyst, given her uniform, had a smirk on her face, and she looked at him knowingly. She was an attractive woman, probably in her mid-twenties and wore make up that accentuated her natural beauty very well. It was clearly out of regulation, but that’s not what caught his attention, it was the words that scrolled across her flawless forehead that captured his attention, ‘He is in love with Vuloom.’

  Was that it? Did she have the right of it? Was this debilitating feeling love? He had never bothered with relationships in his youth. As a kid, he had dated a few girls, lost his virginity in college, and had his heart broken like anyone else, but once he joined the military, the idea of starting and maintaining a relationship just seemed ludicrous. The rigorous demands of his career left little to no time for such an endeavor, so he had never bothered to try. Now that he was an Ambassador, did that change things? Could he pursue Zahera in a romantic way? Did he want to? Did she want him to? The entire situation was overwhelming, and he knew he was in imminent danger of making a real fool of himself, if he hadn’t already.

  The med-drone broke the silence, “The Ambassador’s heart rate is elevated to one hundred and twenty-seven beats per minute. His internal temperature has increased by two degrees since his arrival. His pupils have dilated slightly and his adrenalin levels are increasing.” the drone reported for the room to hear, “Also, he is discharging pheromones at an extreme rate which would indicate…”

  Blackshade knew what that meant and didn’t want it to be said, “Med-drone dismissed!” he said angrily. There were more than a few giggles and chuckles from the surrounding Air Soldiers, and he wasn’t positive, but he thought he saw Zahera smirk at him. If she had, she composed herself immediately, and the word, ‘adorable’ appeared on her forehead. Its appearance made him doubt he had seen the smirk at all, which only further confused him. “I’m sorry, Colonel Vuloom,” he began, desperately trying to save face, “I’ve had a stressful week, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to get any easier. I’m pleased to be here and hope I can prove valuable to the operation.”

  Zahera looked up at him with a smile, “Well of course, we’re happy to have you. Do you have any plans or ideas on how you might support our efforts?” she asked helpfully.

  Blackshade was relieved. He knew she was helping him and that knowledge made those feral feelings rise to the surface again. He forced them back down, “Actually yes, I would like to hold an All-Call immediately.” he answered her. Old habits die hard, and his statement came out more as a command than a suggestion. Zahera didn’t miss it, “Oh?” she responded, one eye-brow rising in irritation.

  “When you deem it appropriate, I’d like the opportunity to address your troops and answer their questions.” he corrected himself and then motioned towards Sergeant Wagner, “As we were coming here some of your Air Soldiers were so concerned with current events that they dropped their bearing in order to voice their concerns. It’s past time I addressed the worries of our people. We’re all equally invested in this, after all.” he explained sincerely.

  A sweet smile spread across her lips. The words, ‘such a good man’ ran across her forehead, “I completely agree with you, Ambassador.” she replied. She looked at her communications officer, “Set it up, Major Schaffer.” she ordered a well-built African-Candaerican officer. The man nodded at her and set himself to his task immediately. After a few moments he looked back up.

  “Colonel Vuloom, the channels are r
eady. The pre-emptive command has been sent out, the channel is encrypted, the troops are finding stopping points in their duties and are all standing-by.” Major Schaffer reported, “Proceed when ready, Ma’am.”

  Zahera looked over to him and tilted her head towards the podium. The words, ‘he is bigger’ flashed across her forehead but disappeared almost immediately. Blackshade refused to let her distract him, not now that he was about to address the entire unit. What he had to say was far more important than his own personal dilemma. Standing at the podium, Blackshade noticed it was the standard podium required to be in all military Command Centers. Podiums like this were used by Commanders to address their troops and disseminate information to them in a professional and respected form. He typed the commands into his tissue-ware that would link it to the computer and waited for the two systems to link up. This would allow his tissue ware to broadcast his face to all of the Air Soldiers stationed here and in return the podium would house the display that would allow him to see everyone he was addressing. The link would also allow them to pose questions to him, once he had finished delivering his message. He remembered the old way of having to bring everyone on the base to an auditorium in order to deliver base wide information. Not only was this an incredible security risk, but the logistics of getting hundreds, if not thousands of people into one building, especially at a deployed location, was a nightmare. Modern communication methods were so much better and more efficient. He settled himself and cleared his mind, just like he had been trained to do before delivering a mass briefing. It helped him collect his thoughts and settle his nerves. In a low voice, he spoke the mantra he had invented during his time as a Commander at Barksdale, “Cruel, so that others are kind.”