The Gathering Storm

by Marshall Miller

  Joseph felt like kissing the ground when they landed at the Cape. His wife, Sarah, actually brought her school class up to view the landing, getting a complete tour of the launch site. Joseph rode back with his wife in an old-fashioned yellow school bus. The experience brought back bittersweet memories. Back at the Key West Base, he kissed his wife. “Sarah, I need to check in with the Director.”

  She smiled at him. “Are you going to ask him about staying around because I may be pregnant?”

  “Will do, darling. You’ll be the first to know.”

  He went up to the Director’s office, trying not to stare at Mary Lou. Damn, she still looked like Bettie Page. Joseph went into the office with his ducks in a row. When he found an opening, he started to explain about his new relationship with his wife, how they were going to start a family…

  Adam stopped him short. “Let’s cut to the chase, Professor. You think your wife may be pregnant. And you do not want to spend any more time away from her than you have to. You’re afraid I wouldn’t understand.”

  Joseph blushed. “Sir, I just…”

  “You must think I am the most ignorant, uncaring asshole in the world. Professor, go home. Check in with your section here. You do not have to go back into space unless you really want to. The Olson twins, going by your reports, have things well in hand. Just keep an eye on this project of ours and use your talents with earthbound projects. Keep in touch. Talk to you later.”

  Joseph almost skipped home. He felt that his wife was pregnant. She was happy. Life was good. Little did he realize at that time a couple of catfights and major revelations on modifications of human biology threw everything in doubt.

  Weeks later and the good Colonels were on their third trip, Professor Fassbinder staying home. Had he been along on the second and third trips, things may possibly have been different. They brought up needed scientific supplies, plus some creature comforts that were in short supply, making them the most popular temporary residents on Platform One. Their expertise on aeronautical and space engineering made them welcome help on some of the projects with which the resident scientists were involved. Then Dr. Susan Smith and her husband, Robert, found out that Bettie had a minor in Biology, with a specialized study in extraterrestrial life.

  “Colonel, please. Come to our lab. We have a special project we have been working on for His Lordship on artificial life. You must see what the Tschaaa growth vats can do, with a bit of tweaking by us humans.”

  Cliff cautioned Bettie before they set off to the laboratory that the Smiths were rather “intense”. “I haven’t been in their section in months. They have a tendency to corner you and go on and on and on. They also seem to think that the human species is just one big lab rat, ripe for experimentation. I know they were trying to develop new artificial food sources to replace Cattle for the Tschaaa. But they talk and act like they are just making a new kind of sausage.”

  On the way to the section in which the Smiths’ laboratory was located, Bettie and Cliff bumped into Sandy Olson. During the second, previous trip up on The Hope, Sandy had been very busy aboard the so-called saucer and had not had time to even say hello. She had even missed meals, spending every waking moment dealing with what the hell the saucer was and what it did.

  This time, when Sandy saw Bettie and Cliff, she made a point of stopping to greet them. “Colonels. Congratulations on your marriage. How are the newlyweds?”

  “Just great,” Cliff answered.

  Bettie felt a bit awkward, after the brief “affair” she had had with the other woman. She had not had a chance to talk with her, one on one, since Cliff showed up. She turned to her new husband. “Cliff, honey, can I have a moment for ‘girl talk’ with Sandy?”

  Having had the situation previously explained to him, he smiled. “No problem. I think there is a latrine nearby and my bladder is calling. See you in a few.” He headed toward a small side corridor nearby.

  “Uh, Sandy…” Bettie began.

  “Bettie, no need to explain anything. You found the love of your life, alive and well. You even told me about him, remember? It’s perfectly understandable that our, shall we say, fling did not last.”

  “Sandy, it’s just that… I was not trying to use you. I….we made a connection I didn’t expect. I will always have feelings for you and would like you to remain a friend. Is that possible?”

  Sandy kissed her on the cheek. “Of course we are friends. I am just glad that you’re happy. I wished I could have been at the wedding, but I was stuck in space. One of these days, I’ll give you a belated wedding present. Deal?”

  Bettie hugged her. “Deal. I just hope someday you can find someone who will make you as happy as Cliff makes me.”

  Sandy sighed. “Yes, I wish I could find the ‘one’. But to be honest, I’m having some… issues I guess you could say, with a level of sexual aggression that even my twin says is worrisome. From some reports I have received from groundside, a lot of women are having similar problems. I mentioned it to the Smiths, who are our primary biologists up here, and they said they would look into it. They mentioned about maybe a mutation or something brought here with the Tschaaa. After all, introducing non-native germs and other species can wreak havoc on an environment.”

  “Cliff and I are headed to their research wing right now. I’ll mention it to them.”

  “Just one word of advice,” Sandy cautioned. “They can get rather intense about what they do, and seem cold regarding the effect their research may have on individuals. They have been trying to grow some replacement meat products for the Tschaaa, in order to cut down on the harvesting of live subjects. But, I’ve stayed away from their work. Seeing a piece of human-looking flesh being tested for Tschaaa consumption gives me the creeps.”

  Bettie nodded. “Thanks for the warning. I have definitely seen my share of dead humans over the past six years, so I’ve probably built up thick enough skin to compensate. But I’ll watch myself.”

  Sandy smiled at her. “Please do that. Now, I have to return to Sam. We have a gazillion things to do over the next few days. Our stay here has been extended for another month, but I suspect it may take a year or more to really figure the saucer out. Keep in touch.”

  “Will do, Sandy.”

  Cliff reappeared and the two Colonels continued their walk to the Smiths’ research area.

  “Get things worked out, babe?”

  “Yes, Cliff. I just felt guilty, like I used Sandy. I still don’t entirely understand what came over me that evening. I’m beginning to have some suspicions about what has been going on here in general... I feel like maybe my buttons are being pushed.”

  Cliff frowned. “Maybe our visit with the Smiths will shed some light on the whole subject. They are experts in human biology and physiology. However, I’ve heard rumors some of their work can be pretty gruesome; more like a morgue than a lab.”

  Bettie gave a small smile to her love. “As I told Sandy, after the last six years, it takes a lot to get to me. Unless it’s a lover that is supposed to be dead showing up with a shit-eating grin and a ring.”

  Cliff gave her waist a light squeeze.

  “I’ll never live that down, will I?”

  “No, you won’t. I love you to bits anyway.”

  They arrived at the entrance door to the Smith’s lab area. When the doors did not slide open automatically, Cliff cleverly located a buzzer. A couple of minutes later, Dr. Susan Smith opened the access door. Susan was a short, fortyish zaftig woman with short, dishwater colored hair. She wore wire rimmed glasses, surprising, as those with access to Tschaaa medical technologies had used their nanites and procedures to fix most of the more mundane human physical deficiencies.

  “Colonels Hunter and Bardun. Thank you for coming. I like to have new eyes look at our research once in a while. It helps us to get new ideas. Especially one with a biology background, Bettie.”

  A heavy set, white-haired and full-bearded man that looked like Santa Claus’ twin, gut and all, a
pproached them. This was Robert Smith, her husband and expert in all things concerning human biology. He stuck out his hand and gave both Colonels a robust handshake. “Welcome, my good people. Glad to have visitors of the human variety. I’ll let my wife give you the cook’s tour. I need to go to the supply area and look for a type of widget for an experiment I am performing. I’ll be back in a few minutes, Susan.” He kissed his wife on her cheek and strode off.

  “If you will follow me, I’d like to start with something I’m especially proud of.”

  Dr. Smith took Cliff and Bettie into a large open area that had low illumination lights over at least two dozen large tubs or vats. There were also directional lamps over each of the vats, but only a few were turned on. Susan led them to a six foot long vat nearest the entrance.

  “This, Meinen Herr and Frau, is my biggest accomplishment. Please take a look.” Bettie and Cliff looked in under the lamp and saw an approximate five foot nude adult female form, with all secondary sex characteristics included. The head was enclosed in an opaque basketball shaped cover.

  Susan grinned. “Say hello to the Other Me.”

  “What exactly do you mean?” Bettie asked.

  Susan grinned more broadly. “I took my stem cells and, using Tschaaa vat technology, grew ‘me’. A clone to be exact. I have that ball around the head as it is weird, even to me, to look at my face on a body sitting in a vat. But all of my organs are functioning.”

  “What about the brain?” Bettie asked, frowning.

  “Just the automatic functions, if you notice the breathing tube. The lungs function at a very low respiration rate, as do the rates for blood flow and heart function. It is basically in a semi-comatose state, much like Tibetan monks claimed to achieve. The body and organs grew and developed quickly, much like the grays do. But, rather than awakening into a functioning being, like the grays, I keep it in this state.”

  “Why?” Bettie asked.

  “Well, first, the project was to prove I could produce a full term human body, like the Tschaaa grow grays. I considered using a similar technique to introduce sentience at an automatic level, programmed to function in certain programmed fashions, like the grays do. However, as it is a human-based clone, not a gray, I might have to try and educate it to function at least at an idiot level. I really don’t have the time nor the facilities to take the experiment to that level. Not to mention the disconcerting idea of an idiot level ‘me’ wandering around. So I keep it for spare parts and organs.”

  Bettie stopped in shock. Cliff’s forehead was deeply furrowed. “Spare parts, you say?”

  “Yes, Cliff, if I may call you that…yes, thank you. Military rank seems so formal to me. Anyways, this is the medical wave of the future. Organ transplants from another ‘you’ to keep you alive and healthy for decades longer. All but the brain, of course. I still have no way to transmit your cognitive abilities to another body. Some brain cells for repair, yes. But right now, if the brain dies, that’s it.”

  Something in the back of Bettie’s mind screamed, ‘Warning!’

  “But, Susan, how do you decide if this has reached the level of being a …person? “

  “Easy. The same as at an abortion clinic, where I worked for several years. Until the fetus is ‘born’, it is not a person. Until we ‘birth’ a clone–in a sense, wake it up–it is just spare parts. This experiment was for us humans. The rest of these vats are for experiments and functions for Tschaaa needs. Specifically, meat sources that are indistinguishable from Cattle currently walking around on Earth. I have been able to achieve that for the fresher cuts of meat.”

  “Fresher?” Cliff queried.

  “Yes. First, I took a few eggs and cells from the women up here at the station, Platform One. By the way, why do they call this a platform instead of a space station? It’s confusing. Never mind, I’m getting off subject. Cells and eggs were brought up here, first by the Tschaaa, and then you two brought a small quantity up your last trip here.”

  “Wait a minute,” Bettie interjected. “When you say eggs, you refer to human female ovum and gametes, maybe zygotes?”

  “Yes. Let me show you what we can do with them.”

  A bit cautiously, Bettie and Cliff followed her to smaller vats a few feet away.

  “Here. I can now grow them up to a stage of development where they resemble a fetus and thus provide a vat grown equivalent of veal or lamb for the Tschaaa.”

  Cliff and Bettie froze. In the smaller vats was each what appeared to be an unborn baby. The one difference was they lacked any part of the head past a rudimentary skull, possibly some jaw development.

  “See, these are basically anencephalic fetuses, so called ‘brainless’ fetuses. We can easily produce them, without having the ethical complication of dealing with true brain development. Once again, the most basic automatic body functions are evident...”

  All Bettie heard from that point on was a nonsensical drone from the doctor. She stared wildly around the lab, trying to focus on something, anything other than the horrors in front of her. She noticed some scalpels and a bone saw nearby.

  Cliff, still shocked and staring at the contents of the vats, suddenly heard a soft keening coming from Bettie’s direction. “Wha…” He had begun to turn toward Bettie when she flew by him, and drove a scalpel into the doctor’s neck. Dr. Smith started to scream as Bettie, acting too fast for Cliff to react, slammed the second scalpel through her left glass lens and into her eye. Susan screamed, flailing her arms about. Bettie, with unnatural speed, slashed with the bone saw, opening up the scientist’s jugular. Susan spun around, her blood spurting, and collapsed to the floor.

  Cliff bearhugged Bettie, and almost had his nose broken as she tried to head butt him. She was acting on some primal defense level and did not even recognize who he was. He lifted Bettie off her feet and spun her around, his face pressed into the side of her neck. She tried to bite him, that keening noise from her mouth becoming a growl.

  He yelled as loudly as he could into her left ear. “Bettie! It’s me, Cliff! Goddamnit, stop it!” She struggled for a few more seconds, and then stopped. The animalistic sounds from her mouth also ceased.

  Cliff set her on her feet, still holding onto her arms. She started to retch. Cliff helped her bend over and she puked all over the feet and shoes of the dying Susan Smith. He tried to hold Bettie, to comfort her. She sputtered, “My...my...my sister gave birth to an anencephalic baby a week before… the first rock. It lived three days. They named it after me. Before they realized…” She retched again, and then began to dry heave.

  “Deep breaths Bettie. Atta girl. In goes the good air, out goes the bad.”

  Bettie finally stood up, and spat at the still body near her feet. “I screwed this up. But she deserved it, evil bitch!” Cliff hugged her again, and stroked her hair.

  His mind was racing a mile a minute. “Babe, we need to leave. Now. In the spaceplane. I don’t think the Wizard will understand.”

  Bettie shook a bit, and stood up straight, pulling herself together. Her military training and experience took over. “You’re right, let’s go.”

  Cliff did not see any cameras in the large laboratory, other than the one at the entrance door. He hit the open button, he and Bettie exited… and almost ran over Robert “Santa Claus” Smith, carrying a couple of boxes.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Cliff’s right uppercut caught Robert Smith’s jaw perfectly, and he went down like a sack of potatoes.

  “Those boxing lessons came in handy after all.” Cliff stated. They began to run down the corridor toward the docking area where The Hope was berthed.

  Platform One did have an internal surveillance system on the corridors and main areas. Over the years, the Tschaaa, grays and lizards had gotten used to such human activities as running, working out, sexual encounters, etc. The other species believed humankind was a bit “off” and got used to making allowances. The Tschaaa knew that eventually, they could be turned into meat, end of problem. Therefore, no
one tried to stop them. Bettie and Cliff made it to the spacecraft in record time. There was no security on the spacecraft either. After all, why would anyone steal it, and where would they go? The Tschaaa knew they had control of all the good spots on Earth, and pretty much ignored the rest. The two Colonels dashed into the berthing area.

  The berthing area was connected to the outer bay which would be sealed off by a large airlock when the craft was getting ready to launch. After being sealed in, the air was pumped back into the station, and then the outer door was opened. Small maneuver jets and rockets helped nudge and push the craft until it was far enough away to engage the main engines.

  Cliff and Bettie snatched the pressure suits that were hanging up on their special racks, and with practiced ease, had them on in record time. Each checked the other over to insure everything was tight and secured. If they lost air and pressure in The Hope, these suits would keep them alive long enough to land somewhere on Earth. Helmets were last, more streamlined than those used during the old space shuttle program. Small intercom radios enabled them to talk to one another.

  On board, Cliff grabbed the left seat pilot’s chair. “I know you’re senior, babe, but I have more experience in space combat maneuvering. Trust me, we may need it.”

  Bettie took the right seat without protest. “Dearest, I always have trusted you. I sure as hell got everything all FUBAR.”

  “Forget it. It was bound to happen. I’m surprised I didn’t pull a berserker on the asshole Lordship that runs this place long ago. I think the chance of returning to Earth kept me at least partly in control.”

  Bettie tried not to fog up her helmet as she started to cry. “Maybe if you left me…”

  “Hey, dumbass. We’re married. Remember? For better or worse, in front of God and country. Can’t back out now, and wouldn’t dream of trying. Okay, help me preflight this beast, just what we have to do to get it rolling.”