by Peter Knyte
Things became a blur for a while after that. They had no idea what I was talking about, but they’d recognised that something was badly wrong, and with Hughes’s name amongst it all, they realised there wasn’t going to be an easy explanation for any of this.
Things began to move after that. They’d gone through my belongings including my wallet because I was in a better state than everybody else, and therefore their best bet for questioning. But they just hadn’t had time to process the hundreds of other crew men and women they’d retrieved from the ship, so hadn’t spotted Hughes amongst the rest.
I think I could’ve walked, but the nurse was very insistent that if I must leave my bed then it would be in a wheelchair. Then as we toured the different wards, with me very literally filling in the blanks for the crew members whose names I knew, they started to give a bit more detail about the world as they knew it. They called things by different names, but we each slowly managed to figure out what the other was talking about.
It appeared the incursions from the Expanse, or the Dead Zone, as they called it, were far less common here than they were in our own world, and were still thought by some, to be the result of some strange natural mutation or phenomena, and even though hundreds of examples of the creatures had been captured or killed and brought back for study, their origin or root cause was still just being guessed at.
On the plus side, the incursions were also still entirely restricted to the remote, scarcely populated, wild places of the earth, so the casualty rate had also fortunately so far been very low.
They’d both seen some of the specimens which had been brought back for study, and were aware that in the back rooms of government the threat was now beginning to be taken more seriously.
We’d toured all the main wards by this time, and there was still no sign of Hughes, so with a heavy heart I agreed to work my way through the bodies in their morgue It hadn’t been possible to bring all the crew to this one hospital, so there was still a chance, but I could feel a cold dread creeping up my spine as we descended into the basement.
I tried to prepare myself for the fact that there would be some amongst the dead that I would recognise, but I just hadn’t anticipated the sheer numbers of the crew that I’d find down there. This wasn’t even the only morgue which held our dead, but the place was full. Every drawer was doubled up with the dead, as was every table top and gurney, and on top of that there were more just fastened up in body bags lying in rows across the floor of the room.
The two FBI agents and the nurse who’d accompanied us, were just silent as the medical examiner revealed the faces of my fallen comrades to me one after the other. When I could I gave him the name and rank of those I knew, but after two solid hours I felt ashamed to have only been able to put a name to about a sixty of those there.
Hughes was not amongst them, which meant he must’ve been at one of the other hospitals, so I tried to think of any other details that might help them to find him.
‘I know the majority of the people you recovered from the ship will have been wearing or carrying a breather mask,’ I said, picking one up from a pile of crewmen’s belongings, ‘but the one he had was different to everyone else’s, and he very rarely took it off. His was more elaborate and had its own Aetheric power source, like that on the ship, which matched several other devices he wore.’
I was about to go on, and describe the various other devices which were unique to Hughes, but something I said must have struck a chord with the nurse.
‘There is another patient who you may not have seen yet.’ She began, carefully. ‘One of the surgical teams was examining him this morning while you were visiting the wards, I think he must’ve been burned or something, I’ve only seen him briefly myself, but I was told we couldn’t remove his mask or any of the other devices, as they seemed to have fused onto his skin in some way.’
She didn’t have any other details, other than that he was very weak and where he’d be after being examined, but something told me this would be him.
I don’t know what the two agents Jenkins and Fraser had imagined when they first came to question me, but I could tell from the growing apprehension in their expressions that they’d started to realise just how wrong their assumptions had been. But it was only when we entered Hughes’ room and they recognised the man in the bed that it really hit them. He was in one of the rooms where the doctors had placed the very seriously or fatally injured crewmen, slightly apart from the rest of the crew. We’d visited most of these rooms earlier, but this one had been empty, so we’d just moved on. And now there he lay, still larger than life, his tall and broad frame perfectly motionless in the bed.
There’d been speculation about Hughes’s mask and the other devices he carried with him since his famous world broadcast when he first appeared with them, but he’d steadfastly refused to comment on their purpose or workings other than to say that they were to alleviate a medical condition from which he suffered.
Now as he lay there I could see it wasn’t just the sculpted bronze breather mask that had bonded to his skin. Through deliberately cut holes in his hospital gown I could also see another device over his heart, a third along his left forearm, and the edge of a fourth which was just visible on his side and back over the area of his kidneys.
On board ship, I think we’d all become accustomed to them, and had more pressing things to worry about, but here they looked utterly incongruous against his bare flesh and clinical hospital gown.
One of the surgeons who’d earlier examined him in order to try and remove the various devices attached to his skin had joined us, to explain his condition.
‘I’m afraid there’s very little we can do for him.’ He began, apologetically. ‘It’s not just the presence of the devices which we’ve been unable to remove, there’s also a problem with his blood. As far as we can tell he’s experiencing an extreme form of Leukopenia, which is when a patients white blood cell count is very low. Now I describe it as extreme, because in the samples of his blood we’ve examined we can’t find any healthy living white blood cells, all that remains are damaged, dead and mutated white blood cells, which his body can’t use.
‘Without wishing to alarm you, I’ve seen patients with very low white blood cell counts before, but I’ve never seen anything this extreme.’ He continued, earnestly. ‘Even if we could identify a process which could selectively damage the white blood cells in his blood stream while leaving both the platelets and red blood cells untouched, we’d expect to see at least some new cells of all types being produced by his bone marrow.
‘In simple terms, even if this man does wake up, his body is completely defenceless against the bacterial, viral, fungal and parasitic infections which a healthy persons system could fight off without even showing a trace of illness.
‘Can’t you give him some kind of medication,’ Fraser, the younger of the two agents asked.
‘Yes, we can, but it will only delay the inevitable,’ replied the doctor patiently. ‘Most of our modern medicines are designed to work with the body’s own immune system, to either strengthen the immune response, or to weaken the infection so that the body’s own immune system can deal with it. When the system is so weak, or non-existent, the best we can hope for is to slow things down and hope for some kind of change.’
‘What about a transfusion of white blood cells from a donor,’ I asked.
‘For someone in such a weakened state, it would be very dangerous,’ the doctor explained. ‘We can only transfer white blood cells within whole blood, and to have any real chance of benefit we’d need the transfer to be a large volume of blood. Far more than someone could donate without needing a transfusion themselves.
‘And then of course there’s the risk that whatever has damaged his own cells will damage the transfused cells.’
After we’d asked all the questions we could think of, and the doctor had asked me if I knew anything about the devices attached to his body. We moved back outside the room.
The two agents had clearly seen enough to make them feel out of their depth, and as we left the room, they moved to one side to discuss something they didn’t want me to overhear. Fraser then excused himself, leaving just me and the older man.
After the exertions of the last few hours I was beginning to feel tired again, so returned to my room, where I fell straight asleep.
CHAPTER 3 - BEGINNINGS
The world is on the edge of chaos. The once strange and wonderful new frontier of science and exploration has crept slowly and steadily toward the common place, the increasing proximity transforming the unusual into the unsettling, until before we knew it the world was besieged. It was only then that we turned back to the doom-sayers and alarmists who’d tried to warn us, who for their troubles had been repaid only with our ridicule.
We should’ve had that ridicule thrown back at us then, even repaid tenfold for the injustice, but instead as the world teetered on the edge a single man drew us back. A deeply flawed and fractured soul, but a soul with the harnessed ambition and drive of a god.
Our hope appeared in the night skies, above the cities and towns of almost every country in the world. A flotilla of sleek bronze and gold goliaths, their selachian lines spoiled only by the obvious protrusions of arcane equipment and weapons. They appeared apparently from nowhere and travelled quietly over the world below and the countless wondering and worried faces, before stopping over the world’s major cities. And then they simply waited, ignoring all attempts at communication, beyond the reach of governments or weapons, silent and lifeless. Only then with a film makers panache did he announce his intentions via a thousand identical film reels delivered into the hands of the worlds press at the same hour and minute worldwide.
________________________________________
‘Ladies and gentlemen of the world, above your capital cities you will have seen armed and equipped airships of my design. Aboard each one of these ships are but a skeleton crew, the barest minimum necessary to steer and fly them to their current locations. . . and to teach those who you choose to put aboard how to use the various devices and apparatus that they will find there.
‘I know that many of you will have gazed up at these machines, with uncertainty and even worry, for which I now apologise.
‘And now to answer what I’m sure will be your next question. Why have I created these machines and then positioned them above your homes and workplaces?
‘In the simplest possible terms, I have done this because I believe it was necessary.
‘To begin with, I did like many of you, hope that the unsettling events which have been reported from the far flung corners of our world were, somehow just the exaggerated tales of storytellers and fantasists, or possibly the misunderstood or misinterpreted consequence of some natural event. But unlike many of you I was persuaded otherwise, and convinced that these events were not only very real, but that they would continue to grow in frequency and severity the longer they were ignored.
‘The ships which you now see in the skies above you are the products of that conviction.
‘I wish there had been a better way in which I could have achieved these same goals, but the great peril which now threatens our world, but there was simply no more time. These subtle unearthly intrusions which many are only now beginning to recognise are, as predicted, growing at a pace which I believe leaves us with no choice but to act.
‘I also wish that I could tell you the machines which I have created, could solve or prevent any more of those dangerous events, like those reports which have reached us in recent weeks. But I must tell you now, that while these craft are both powerful weapons, and valuable exploration, rescue and research vessels, they are even in my own estimation only capable of slowing the rate of invasion. A front line, which cannot hope to hold indefinitely.
‘They will however buy us the precious time we need to better prepare, and ultimately find a way in which we may prevail.’
CHAPTER 4 - REFLECTIONS
Hughes’ famous announcement was fresh in my mind as I awoke. He’d not been seen in public for several years before the broadcast, and although there had been countless rumours about how the eccentric millionaire was choosing to live his life, nobody was really prepared for the changes he had somehow wrought upon himself when he did reappear.
Gone was the slender young filmmaker and light hearted amateur pilot, and in his place stood a powerfully built, focused and resolute individual. Gone were the elegantly cut designer suits, in their place some kind of pragmatic military clothing, complete with armoured panels, and a number of arcane attachments and tools, all worn with the ease and familiarity that spoke of long use.
But it was when he addressed the world through the cameras lens that the difference really became apparent. For gone also was the showman, and all trace of the awkward or overly confident youth. Now when he spoke, he did so with no hesitation, no theatrics, no stylistic touches or elaborate language. Just the intensity of a man who knew he was right but had neither the time nor inclination to persuade or convince others.
I don’t know why the image of that broadcast was so clearly in my mind as I awoke, but it was still with me as I once again felt the golden weight of sunlight upon me through the hospital window. It was a feeling I would’ve been content to lie and enjoy, had not the terrible experience of the day before still also been burned into my memory.
I knew I was in a better state than most of my crew-mates, and the only member of the senior staff in any kind of good condition, so as soon as I came around I pressed the button to let the nurses station know I was awake again. It was the same nurse on duty, who appeared almost instantly at the door. The same two agents following close on her heels, both still knowing better than to attempt to get past her until she gave the all clear.
I almost didn’t notice the third man, as the nurse bustled around me, helping me to sit up and bringing forward the table ready for my breakfast. But then something about him in the corner of my eye pulled my gaze toward the door where he stood, and I felt my heart almost stop.
It was Hughes, just standing there looking at me. I could barely believe my eyes when I first saw him, and was about to start asking him questions when I noticed he was wearing a suit again, and his face was tanned. And then a dozen other subtle and obvious differences started to jump out at me until I realised this wasn’t the man I knew.
It wasn’t like looking at a twin, or a look alike. There was still so much that was the same, but it was like looking at an earlier version of the man I knew. The same age as he would be now, but without so many of the changes which had been apparent in his famous broadcast.
As soon as I grasped that fact, the differences were obvious, and I found myself thinking that the Hughes I knew had simply matured beyond the point that this man had reached. I noticed his gaze searching my face then, as though he too were looking for something, and I realised he must have already seen his own dark reflection, but had not yet been able to understand what his eyes had shown him.
‘You’ve already seen him, haven’t you?’ I asked, without artifice, seeing the answer already written in his eyes.
‘Yes,’ he answered after a moment. ‘Though I do not pretend to understand how it can be possible.’
‘We contacted Mr Hughes yesterday,’ Jenkins explained, after a momentary silence. ‘Thinking it would be a simple matter to. . . confirm your captain’s identity.
‘As it turned out Mr Hughes was already here in New York and after we explained, he kindly offered to give us some of his time. So with his permission we began by comparing finger prints.’
‘And discovered they were identical?’ I guessed.
‘Yes,’ he continued, a note of surprise in his voice. ‘It was quite a sight to see them both in the same room together,’ he continued, getting back into his stride. ‘But for these two men to also share the same prints. . . Well I don’t quite know how that can be possible, but it is.’
Even
with all the evidence, the hundreds of dead, dying and injured, they’d still somehow thought we might be a trick. I couldn’t imagine what it must be like for them, but it was time we sorted things out.
‘Unfortunately the only man who might be able to explain any of this to you,’ I said. ‘Is lying unconscious on his back in a room on the other side of this hospital.
‘I don’t mean to suggest that you are by your nature a secretive person,’ I continued, indicating the man stood before me, and trying to lighten the mood. ‘But, even amongst the senior crew aboard our ship, it was a widely held view that we weren’t being told everything by the Captain, either about the Expanse, or the various capacities of the ship we sailed in.’
Even as I spoke, I realised from their body language that something had changed, and for a moment thought the Captain must have taken a turn for the worse.
‘I don’t suppose the doctors have thought of something else they could try?’ I asked hopefully.
They didn’t answer straight away, but instead looked over toward the new Howard Hughes.
‘Your captain’s condition appears to be worsening. I don’t know the details, but you should know I’ve offered to donate some of my blood.’ He said looking closely at me. It’s being tested now. But, if we are as similar as we appear, then apparently the risk from the transfusion should be reduced.’
I couldn’t believe he’d be prepared to do that for a complete stranger, but couldn’t bring myself to doubt him openly.
‘Mr Hughes, as I said earlier on, I think that might be rather premature, not to mention dangerous.’ Broke in Jenkins with a surprising tone of deference to the man before me.
‘I appreciate your concern Special Agent Jenkins,’ responded Hughes, with a degree of cool confidence that for the first time truly resonated with the man I knew. ‘But it is now clear to me that something truly incredible, if not astonishing has happened over this city, and no matter how unexpected, we need to deal with it first and worry about it afterward. I have made my decision, if you feel uncomfortable with it, now would be the time for you to contact your director.
