by Don Foxe
Two days previously Coop spoke for the first time.
“Mara, could you not talk all the time?” he asked. “I need to think.”
Afterward, Mara and Nathan brought Coop up to speed on events during his convalescence.
“Pam has been head of Space Fleet during the most incredible time in Earth’s history,” the tall, brown-haired, dark-eyed man said. His hair, always a bit shaggy, had grown longer. His stubble was now a full beard. His skin pale from months under artificial lights.
“From developing the ability to explore deep space, to encountering alien life. She was at the helm while Earth went into a battle against extraordinary odds. Odds Space Fleet overcame. Two planets and billions of lives saved. We’ve discovered alien technology able to advance ours by hundreds of years. We’ve made alliances with worlds trillions of miles away. We’ve gone from discovering the secrets of space travel to having partners from other worlds in less than fifty years. Pam’s been in charge for every major victory. How the fuck could they ask her to resign?”
“Profanity,” Juri remarked in her slightly-French, almost-German Swiss accent. “A good sign.”
Mara ignored Juri. She looked down at her long-time friend. She had aged well, while he never aged because the Space Ranger Project activated his Methuselah genome pairs. Cooper regenerated every day.
“Those changes, happening one atop the other, created the problem, Coop,” she said. “Earth is still humans acting like humans.”
“Amen,” Juri said. Her face hovered within inches of the floating brain, absorbed in whatever she saw occurring. Oblivious to the fact she commented aloud.
Mara continued. “Humans with centuries of basic hopes and fears unchanged, regardless of the changes happening around them.”
She turned to look at the greying day sky outside the window. Fall barely arrived to western Canada, and winter already trying to push it aside.
“When conditions move so quickly they appear out of control, people demand more control. They watched a battle on the edge of our solar system between you with a couple of Earth’s new space ships against a dozen intergalactic battleships. The people of Earth were given a taste of space. It came with death and destruction. It was exciting and it was frightening. You won. You saved a quarter of a million alien refugees. But what if you had lost?”
“We didn’t lose,” Coop reminded her. “Those refugees are now a part of our planet. They’ve settled into New Zealand and the people there accept their new neighbors.”
“And with them, the people of Earth have to deal with the fact we are not alone in the universe,” she replied. “Our religions and our belief systems are in question. Faith that helped many people through the pandemic which wiped out half the population is shaken. Everyone knew this was a possibility when Elliott discovered the spaceship and storage hanger on Mars fifty years ago. It’s been thrown in their faces in high definition.”
“They need strong leaders now more than ever,” Coop countered. “Pushing the most experienced officer in Fleet out the door is stupid and dangerous.”
“The new members of the Board of Governors for the United Earth Council are responding to fear, I grant you that,” she said. “They were elected by a growing concern Earth is moving too quickly to engage in galactic politics. We were right to defend Rys from the Zenge attack. That alliance means we have the potential for an unlimited supply of crystals to power vital technologies, but the UEC acted without a mandate from the population. From the people they are supposed to represent.”
Coop argued from his reclined position.
“The UEC agreed to send troops and ships to recover the planet of Fell in order to gain more advanced alien technology. The trade, tachyon-based FTL communications for our assistance in repelling the Mischene and Zenge invading their planet. Earth acted in the same way all of the Trading Alliance worlds interacted. We bartered for something we wanted by offering something of value in return. We now have the ability to communicate instantly from within space-fold travel and across trillions of miles of space.” As the discussion between the two extended, he became less agitated.
Prior to entering the room, Dr. Juri instructed Mara to banter with her patient. She asked Mara to push him intellectually. Nearly forty-years married to Nathan Trent, considered Earth’s greatest living scientist, made her the perfect candidate for such an assignment.
“We also suffered thousands of casualties in the battle,” she said. “When the media on Earth reported on the war, they emphasize our losses. Thousands dead, and many more wounded to save an alien planet.”
“Fell appreciates what we did,” Cooper responded.
“Spike,” Juri said.
“Other worlds in the galaxy will be looking to Earth as a leader against Zenge and Mischene aggression,” he added.
“Earth isn’t ready to lead,” Mara answered, then sighed. “That is the crux of the problem, Coop. The memory of a pandemic that killed five billion people remains fresh. The anarchy, the brutality that followed for many of those who survived is still an open wound. The fight to bring all of Earth under one governing body was bloody, horrible, and necessary. People still live who remember borders, and the safety engendered through insulation from others.”
“I was in that fight,” Coop reminded his friend. “I was on the ground. I lost a lot of friends. It was worth every life spent.”
“Agreed,” the half-Jewish, half-Catholic woman nodded. “It still doesn’t change the fact it was painful for every person on the planet. They are not ready to take on more pain. They are especially not ready to take on the pain of an entire galaxy of people they don’t even know.”
“The majority of those species and races they do not know are kind, friendly, and worth the risk,” Coop said.
“You have a small sampling, Coop. Your experiences are also unique. You lived with two aliens. The Zenge and the Mischene are also out there. The Zenge the enemy we thought we knew. Then you discover the Mischene behind the curtain. Next, an Osperantue space ship arrives to tell us the Mischene are really good, but there is an extremist faction of Mischene behind the invasions. And now we are given another curveball. Atticus Soren’s repudiations of these accusations are under analysis.”
Coop sat straight up, his hands, super-strong, crushed the arms of the recliner as he asked, “How? What are you analyzing?”
“Oh, my word,” Dr. Juri exclaimed.
Mara ignored her, concentrating on Coop. “Relax. He sent a drone through a wormhole. The 99 collected it and brought it to Earth. That Mischene are pointing the finger at each other is not the issue. How many more worlds in the galaxy are ruled by evil? How many wars are we expected to wage?” she asked.
“You think we should turn our backs on what we now know exists in the galaxy, just because we don’t know everything?”
“I do not agree with what is happening,” she answered. “I want us to move boldly into space. I want the Earth to stand as a shining beacon of safety and justice. I want Space Fleet to be the force to win over hearts and minds, and stand against tyranny. But I understand the politics as well.”
“Politicians, driven by a media afraid of confrontation, and people afraid of change, decides to replace the current leadership with isolationists,” Cooper responded through clenched teeth. “Pam forced into retirement. Aliens removed from all Space Fleet ships until they complete Fleet Training Schools. The troops on Fell recalled to Earth.”
“Yes,” Mara said. She looked outside once more. The grey day more somber. Raindrops pelted the window’s glass pane. “The alliances and trade agreements between Earth, Rys, and Fell will be renegotiated by the new Board of Governors. All Space Fleet ships are required to remain within the solar system. The aliens in New Zealand have the option of boarding the Star Gazer and returning to Osperantue after it returns from Fell.”
“We can’t trust the Mischene,” Coop said. He was reclining again, his eyes watching the play of rain on glass.
“The UEC is evaluating all of the information, from all sources. Except from you. As far as the world is concerned, you have disappeared, presumably still in a coma. Possibly dead. Even if you had their attention, you are not unbiased. You fought the Zenge and the Mischene, but even you did not know who directed their attacks. The pieces keep changing, Coop. Even on Earth. Someone, or group is working incredibly hard to force Earth to step back from the other worlds. The United Earth teeters on dissolving.”
“When will our people head back to Earth?” Coop asked.
“They’ve already been recalled,” she replied. “The UEC wants the troops back quickly. News outlets have been showing wounded and caskets coming off of our ships for months. The Governors want live heroes walking off and waving to the crowds. And they want it soon. They should all be back on Earth in three weeks.”
Daniel Cooper closed his eyes. Mara, concerned he might fall back into the void he only recently climbed out of, stared at Juri. The doctor shook her head, and lifted a thumb.
“I just think it sucks they kicked Pam out,” he said.
“If you think this sucks,” Mara said, watching his face and listening for Dr. Juri’s ‘spike,’ as she tells him, “Pam’s replacement is Terrance Singletary.”
CHAPTER 6
Fin Island - Inside
Dr. Sophia Juri achieved the mantel of the leading expert on clinical neuropsychology before turning thirty-five. With smooth light skin, and cornsilk blonde hair, the woman still looked mid-twenties. Her somber grey eyes the one trait making her appear older.
Seated in a leather wingback chair facing Nathan Trent, who sat behind Elliott Fairchild’s massive wooden desk, she appeared calm and assured. She earned her reputation, and did not feel overwhelmed by the presence of Space Fleet’s Head of Sciences, or his wife, the famous exolinguist, Mara Trent. Mara, seated in a matching chair to her left, had already spent time with the Swiss researcher. From the first meeting, she and Mara established an easy rapport.
“Dr. Juri,” Trent opened, “any determinations regarding Coop’s recovery and current health?”
Juri crossed her right leg over her left knee, exposing rather creamy skin and a lot of thigh in the short dark-blue dress as it rose. The chic designer dress a vivid contrast to the white lab coat she also wore.
“I cannot tell you why he remained unconscious for ten months, and I cannot tell you what instigated his awakening, but I can tell you his remarkable regenerative powers heeled the damage to his brain. In fact, the new sections function at a significantly higher degree of efficiency than before his injuries.”
“How so?” Trent asked.
“The laser which hit Captain Cooper seared across the left side of his head. It penetrated the skull, causing massive damage to the frontal lobe, brain tissue, both white and grey matter, and limited trauma to the rear brain. The areas damaged control motor functions on the right side of his body, as well as language and writing skills. Speech, hearing, logical reasoning, and mathematic thinking are more predominant in these areas.”
“Coop is able to communicate with no apparent problems,” Mara said.
“He has no problems with any of his higher functions,” Juri responded. “His new brain, and, therefore, Captain Cooper function perfectly well.”
“You said significantly more efficient,” Trent interrupted.
“Incredibly more efficient would be more correct,” Juri replied. “While Mara engaged him in conversation, attempting to cause emotional, reasoning, and argumentative responses, I monitored his brain functions. He was performing complex mathematical equations while carrying on their discussion.”
“Any ideas what he was calculating?” Trent asked.
“Based on previous research data, I would say determining distances and times to travel to locations on Earth, and around the galaxy using different types of ships, factoring variable speeds. Conversation threads created a desire to take action. He made these calculations in nano-seconds.”
“He’s a space ship pilot,” Trent said. “Those types of calculations are ones he makes subconsciously all the time.”
“Not at the speed, and not with as many variables as he currently can,” Juri answered. “He weighed and evaluated everything Mara told him, sifting everything through a reasoning and logic filter while maintaining a healthy emotional response.”
“Is that why he regained his composure, his calm, so quickly after every outburst?” Mara asked.
“Yes. He continues to have emotions, feelings if you will. Most generated from the older left brain side. He accepts this, but also analyzes everything from the source to a huge number of potential responses before making a decision what to say, how to word it, and how to deliver the reply.”
“His undamaged brain cells cooperate with the regenerated cells without rejection?” Mara, the linguist, found the information regarding Coop’s new skills enlightening. She was well aware language and writing originated from the left brain. Coop’s revivification of brain tissue represented the first such occurrence in human history. Brain injuries never fully healed. And damaged tissue never recovered better than the original.
“Actually, the regeneration of the white matter destroyed by the laser has created a faster, more streamlined communications transference between the new brain components and the old components.” She plowed ahead, not waiting for another request for clarification.
“The brain utilizes grey and white matter. Grey matter contains most of the brain's neuronal cell bodies. The grey matter includes regions of the brain involved in muscle control and sensory perception such as seeing and hearing. Grey matter is home for memory, emotions, speech, decision making, and self-control. White matter is composed of bundles of myelinated nerve cell projections called axons, which connect various grey matter areas of the brain to each other. These bundles carry nerve impulses between neurons. Myelin acts as an insulator, increasing the speed of transmission of all nerve signals.”
Juri uncrossed her legs, and leaned forward. The open lab coat and scoop neck on the dress exposed the swell of her breasts. Her excitement over explaining Cooper’s new neurology increasing her breathing, raising and lower her chest.
“His revivified grey matter is now much more dense with neuronal cell bodies, and he appears to have more control over their functions. The myelin in the new white matter has increased the transmission time of the axons. He simply thinks faster than other humans. Faster than any artificial intelligence ever created.”
“But he acts, talks, and seems the same Coop I’ve known for twenty-five years,” Mara said.
“He is the same,” the Swiss scientist replied. “Further along the evolutionary trail, but his personality is the same. Much of that originates from the right brain, the side not damaged when he was attacked.”
“Anything more?” Trent asked.
“Two more tests I want to try before I remove the neurotrodes,” Juri replied. “One to test motor function, and one to test emotional-physical responses to stimuli. If he performs as I suspect, he will be perfectly capable of resuming his life.”
Fin Island - Outside
November winds criss-crossed the island. Fin Island, nestled between several larger islands on the northern coast of British Columbia, still felt the effects of Pacific weather fronts. Dark clouds sailed in from the Ocean, bringing sheets of cold rain, followed by periods of mist.
The staff erected a tent on a flat spot near a beach created by a finger of the sea jutting into the island from the East. One-hundred yards away, five targets flapped on metal poles driven into the sand.
Coop stood facing the targets, his back taking the brunt of the chill wind. He wore black BDU over a METS. The Multi-Environmental Tactical Skin-Suit developed by Trent industries provided warmth. Black baseball cap kept his longish hair out of the way and the rain out of his eyes.
Dr. Juri, also protected by a METS, dressed in rain-proof jacket, pants, and boots, had a more difficult time standing
upright against the wind.
A lab tech emerged from the tent, gave Juri a thumbs up (telemetry recording operational), and handed Coop a laser pistol.
“Left hand,” Juri said. “Look at me, Captain.”
Cooper turned his head to look at the scientist. Her cornsilk hair plastered against her head.
“Without hesitation, when I say ‘fire,’ take a shot at the target furthest left.”
He nodded, and she called, “FIRE!”
The pistol rose and a laser burst released before his head completely turned back to the beach. The lower left corner of the target was singed.
“Now, left to right, take a shot at each target. Take your time,” she said.
He raised the weapon, taking a breath, letting it partially out, and fired. He repeated the process five times. He hit a target each time, with the last burst coming closest to center. The others cutting holes around the perimeters.
“Look at me again,” she said. “This time, right hand.” He switched the pistol. “Without hesitation, take a shot at each target as quickly as you can. Fire!”
The pistol crossed his body, coming up under his raised left arm. Five shots. Five center hits.
Coop followed Juri inside the tent. With the flaps closed, the reinforced material made the small area comfortable and relatively quiet.
“What did we just prove?” he asked.
Juri hesitated to answer while she reviewed the brain scans. “The left-handed shot simply set the target in your mind. When your brain’s left side was given time to calculate all of the variables, from wind to rain, distance, the weapon’s characteristics, it educated your right brain, and improved the muscle responses on your left side. With each shot fired, more information resulted in your aim improving.”
