by Thomas Zman
“Valithor, this is Langley.” Broke in a voice over the headsets. The ensuing conversation encrypted over dark communication channels. “Valithor, this is Langley, do you read?”
“Roger that, Langley.” replied Frank. “Go ahead.”
“You are coming up on drone deployment maneuver. Begin your descent to fifty thousand feet. Do you read?”
“Copy that, Langley.” Frank looked over his instrumentation; he and Steve began a sequence of maneuvers to lower the aircraft and ready it for drone deployment.
“Valithor,” broke in Langley. “Our telemetry indicates a course adjustment of zero five degrees to get you back on heading. Wind sheer must be factoring.”
Frank looks over his readings. “Langley, we have our heading as one two zero degrees. Zero minutes. ”
There was hesitation.
“Valithor, we have you now drifting off by zero nine degrees. Check your bearings. Your instrumentation – “
“Steve,” said Frank, “what do you have us at?”
“One zero eight degrees. Zero minutes”
Frank thought. “Go with the backup.”
“Switching to analog – wait.” A twinge of concern entered Steve. “The compass is reversing. The reading is now One Five Zero degrees. Now, One Six Zero. There must be a malfunction.”
“Langley,” Frank called. “We are experiencing some technicals. We need to re-assess deployment.”
There was no response over the radio.
“Langley,” Frank repeated. Do you read us?”
Still, no response.
Frank turned a dial on the radio console above him. “Langley, do you read?”
A crackle of static filled their headsets. “Steve,” said Frank. “I’m switching –“ his words interrupted by an undulant alarm; the computer voice warning the Valithor was losing too much altitude. Frank grimaced then corrected the situation by leveling off the aircraft and increasing thrust.
“Langley, this is Valithor.”
No response.
Steve checked the back up systems. Warning lights began to flicker in the cockpit. Another alarm sounded as a shuddering rolled along the aircraft. The pilots could feel a decrease in airspeed; more throttle was given as secondary vocal warnings toned in. Frank looked up from the ailing instrumentation and out the cockpit window, noting the sun was no longer in front of them but had swung around aft.
“Langley, do you read?” Frank tried again to communicate, but got only static.
In Langley the stealth beacon that had allowed controllers to track the Valithor faded from the radar screens. Command immediately dispatched an air-search/rescue squadron to the Valithor’s last known coordinates. Notification as to the crisis quickly dispatched up through the chain of command.
The pilots activated their emergency beacon; turning off the ship’s stealth scrambling technologies. The airspeed indicator showed that the craft had slowed considerably -- nearing stall speed. Altitude had temporarily leveled off at fifteen thousand feet. Both pilots were readying themselves for ejection procedures as life seemingly ebbed from the Valithor. The alarms began toning down their wail and the emergency voices had stopped in their headset. Steve and Frank readied themselves for the worst.
“On my count,” Frank commanded Steve, “Three, two, one . . . “
Both pilots pulled the ejection levers – but nothing happened. An eerie silence overcame the cockpit: all instrumentation had ceased functioning as a strange luminescence enveloped the cabin. No more alarms or computer voices; all that could be heard was the sound of rushing wind outside the aircraft.
“Steve looked up from the lifeless instrumentation:
“My God! What’s happening?”
In front of the aircraft and drawing them in was a huge mass of intense yellow light, which rose up as a column from the parted waters of the Atlantic. The extensive pillar of brilliance loomed tens of thousands of feet into the air, seemingly connecting heaven and earth.
“It’s pulling us in,” Frank called out as he made one last frantic attempt to resurrect the disable craft, which had slowed to a standstill and now levitated. The pilots shielded their eyes from the blinding light as the Valithor was engulfed by the cosmic phenomenon. Beneath the aircraft an enormous area of ocean lay open, a brilliant descending hole that appeared to go on forever and ever. The Valithor descended: down, down, down it went. And was gone.
No signs of debris would ever be spotted. The ensuing days of air-rescue searches would yield only questions. The Valithor (its crew) however, would shed some light on the paradox of these waters. Its story to stand out amidst the countless others that had been written about here – here in what has come to be known as ‘The Bermuda Triangle’.
NAYRB
I could feel their cold boney fingers pinching and probing me. Needles piercing the tender tissue of my neck and shoulders; a sharp instrument scraped at my chest. I could not see my captors for a blinding light shined above, forcing my eyes closed. I was unable to ward off these ill-intent beings for some force, bearing no material restraints, held me totally incapacitated. Their small hands attempted to massage away the sting of yet another needle as it was guided between my ribs and positioned deep within my chest. I could not scream. There was no outlet for the torment. I could only lie in agony and await death.
What had I done to deserve such cruel torture? Had I died and gone to hell? Is this what all of mankind fears? The last thing I remembered was the Valithor being drawn down into the ocean, towering walls of water surrounding us. Frank! What happened to Frank? Is he all right? Or have they tortured him to death already? Hopefully this will all be over soon.
A fiery sensation coursed through my veins. My body convulsed and I gasped for air. A mask was fitted over my nose and mouth; from it flowing a sweetness that quickly numbed away the pain. A chorus of dull mumblings cluttered my mind; I could make no sense of the monotone articulations. My thoughts grew heavy and closed in on me; the white glare above softened to yellow. Confusion overcame pain and I peacefully began to slip into an altered state.
The mumblings inside my head slowly changed to an electrical hum. Pressures stirred from within my body as my temperature settled down to a comfortable warmth. The light, which seeped through my eyelids, dimmed and a floating sensation expelled my spirit from the hard confines of the examination table. I left my body, left behind the physical world, and entered one of cognitive consonance.
The air was thick, liquid; it was strange, however, for I could breathe it with ease. My movements were slow, somewhat restricted, and the manor in which I floated was controlled by a force, some current of sorts, other than that produced by my efforts. The surroundings about me were murky grey and visibility only a matter of an arm’s length. I could see a network of large fibrous white membranes intersecting at every conceivable angle. Each single membrane composed of a follicle with two root-like tendrils extending from its opposite sides. The membrane would vibrate and excrete lymph, which would synapse and be absorbed by the tendrils of an adjacent membrane. The receiving membrane would then repeat the action, exponentially. This phenomenon occurred instantaneously all around me -- and I drifted through them.
I continued on, trying not to become entangled in these delicate structures, but having only limited control of my direction, was occasionally caught up in several, breaking their tissue, leaving them to shrivel and blacken. I, unable to distinguish dimension, had no conceivable notion as to how big this forest of pulsating fibers actually was. But, as I drifted, the pressure exerted upon me became increasingly evident and provided me with a tangible warning.
The membranes all pulsed more and more rapidly, firing in unison, firing, firing, firing, until all became a blinding effulgence, which consumed my being. Tangible pressure gripped me uncomfortably – all that which surrounded me closed in and I became estrangled in the pulsing membranes. This claustrophobic conundrum squeezed me: squeezed me, squeezed me, squeezed me to darkness -- and
I succumbed to unconsciousness.
Upon opening my eyes, vision blurred, I beheld what I thought to be four small humanoid figures standing at the foot of the slightly inclined table on which I lay. I blinked several times in an attempt to clear my vision, and suddenly only two remained. This sent chills down my spine, my heart racing in horror. Finally, as my vision cleared totally and my mind exited the trauma from whence I came, I realized there was one lone alien figure standing before me.
It was dressed in tight a fitting white garment – which is more that I could say of myself for I had only a metallic sheet covering my nakedness. It was gaunt: its oversized head featured two large ovals, black, for eyes; two smaller holes, nostrils, and a slim line with just a hint of an upper lip was its mouth. No ears were apparent on its skull, only a well-defined fissure parted its cranium in two very distinct spheres; each bulging greatly with what must have been vast amounts of brain tissue beneath a gossamer skin. The absorptive stares emitted by the frail creature made me feel inferior, scrutinized; as if it had ‘intelligenced’ itself into my mind.
I did not know what to make of the situation. Perhaps this was all a figment of my imagination, a hallucination. I turned my attention from the creature, for I was able to move my head slightly; though the rest of my body was still immobilized. I inspected the room in which I was imprisoned: The table on which I lay was inclined and raised about two feet above the floor, yielding me a clear view of my surroundings. Behind the unearthly little creature I noted a sealed door, a hatchway of sorts, looking as if it had come from the bulkhead of an oceangoing vessel. The walls, too, appeared too had been fabricated from a vessel’s hull; metallic plates riveted together in a curved continuum, a segmented design as if this room were a single cell of an immense circular building. On the wall to my right I located a large disc, no doubt the covering for a window. Furthering my scrutiny I noted the floor and ceiling as to being identical: each honeycombed with translucent tiles issuing forth a faint glow. The united effort of these tiles lit the room – but not with the intensity of which I had experienced earlier.
An eerie silence filled the curved room as I glanced once again at the figure before me, my imagination running rampant as it maintained absolute stillness and just stared. I tried to speak but my voice would not come. I cleared my throat; it was very garbled and dry. The rest of my body was still and totally immobilized.
“You have many questions about your being here, Lieutenant Steve Coleman,” sounded a voice inside my head. The alien spoke, though its mouth did not move. “My Name is Nayrb.” It tilted its head awkwardly and raised its palm in an almost friendly gesture. It continued to speak -- through my mind.
“On behalf of the Sanctification I welcome you to the city of Neuphobes.”
The alien shifted its stature and continued: “You are in a building we call the Transmutation Complex, located in a cavern of great magnitude, precisely one league beneath the ocean floor. We understand that our appearance to you now is unnerving, but we offer only peace and assure you that your friend, Frank is well. The two of you shall be reunited when the transition period has been completed.”
My chest felt heavy and burned somewhat from the discomforting air, which filled the room. The muscles in the back of my neck were tight, giving me a slight headache; my stomach churned and grumbled. I could not focus on any one of the multitude of thoughts that rushed through my head. Indeed, I was confused.
“Perhaps, my friend, a view of our city would remedy some of the questions you are having.” Nayrb turned from me and pointed towards the shielded window. The disc moved aside.
From the elevated location of the room I beheld a good portion of an alien metropolis. The city was an assemblage of oddly shaped edifices: tall cylindrical as well as angularly engineered buildings blanketed the landscape as far as I could see. They were silver in color with round windows; a few were even raised up on tresses, while others, resembling buildings of ancient antiquity, stood out conspicuously amidst the outlandish. Tall columns of great thickness rose up through the city and connected to the bedrock ceiling, what must have been near two thousand feet in height. This alien architecture was brilliantly silhouetted against a hazy lime sky wherefrom flashes of lightning spewed across at erratic intervals, creating an eerie chromaticity. Far, far in the distance I could scarcely discern a series of giant waterfalls, flowing over precipices near the caverns’ thinly clouded ceiling, and all throughout the myriad of odd complexes interconnecting transparent gang ways and mobile sidewalks thorough fared pedestrians; even several ornate bridges spanned the rather wide, gently flowing rivers that meandered about the city.
Small saucer-like craft darted about the skies, about the vivid blue bolts over the metallic metropolis, performing maneuvers that defied the laws of physics. No means of propulsion were evident; nor were any signs of G-Forces apparent on its occupants when the crafts would suddenly stop, turn, or speed off. Across the way a saucer, containing two passengers, hovered above the roof of a building. Three legs emanated from beneath its curved hull and the craft gently settled down for a landing.
“The city before you is one of twelve built thousands of years ago by our people,” began the alien. “ However, it wasn’t until recently, the past two-hundred years, after your people advanced in technology, that we were able to finalize many of these structures. Our ancestors sited twelve geometrically spaced hollows around the world to build our cities; areas where we could exist undisturbed by man. It took several decades for our ancestors to bore into these natural pockets, clear them out, and successfully cap them off without the caverns’ collapsing. Our fleet of immense mother ships acted as relay stations, plugs, on the ocean’s bottom while large excavations beneath them allowed materials and workers entrance into the caverns to begin terra-forming the new Phoebian cities.
“Our people had limited supplies with which to work. They used many of our smaller ships as pre-fabricated building materials. Because of our location so deep within your earth and near the molten mantel, a new atmosphere was created to sustain life. Part of that new atmosphere entailed a colossal cooling system, which uses the endless supply of ocean water to naturally lower the temperature as it cascades down the walls of the cavern and throughout the city, flowing as rivers and smaller tributaries, then returned back to the ocean via our large support columns. Then an intricate framework was engineered to help support the roof of the cavern, it also housing the complex synthesizers that create our atmosphere. And finally a gateway, a superstructure, to effectively connect the two worlds: this, the Transmutation Complex. It is here that all newcomers undergo orientation, and allow time for their bodies to adjust to the Neuphobian environment. That is the reason for your discomfort.”
Moving my attention from beyond the window I managed to look at the alien. “Where did your people come from?” I uttered, my voice returning.
“We are Phoebians, descendants from the late planet, Phoebious. Millions of years ago our star, Qua, was increasing in magnitude for it was old and dying. It expanded into a Red Giant and consumed the inhabitable worlds nearest it, epochs of Phoebian history also vanishing. Before all of this happened, however, a mass migration was undertaken by our people. Hundreds of ships transported our ancestors across the heavens. Individual squads, each containing twenty-four Mother Ships, fled in various directions, following courses that yielded the highest probability of discovering inhabitable worlds. Many of these squads were never heard from again; however, some are known to be in this very galaxy, hundreds of light years away. Of the twenty-four ships that landed on this planet, twelve remain, along with their smaller accompaniments of Interplanetary Saucers.
“Our forefathers landed on your planet thirty five thousand years ago after having chosen the earth for its many offerings in natural resources. There was an over abundance of mineral wealths locked away in her land and seas. Your planet flourished with life and our ancestors welcomed it. It was a new beginning for our civilizati
on: a pure environment in which to start over, to build a new world and correct the mistakes that had plagued our old one. Our forefathers, the Ruling Council of the time, set forth a Directive of Uninvolvement; vowing to make this second home better than the first without corrupting its natural course of events. However, as eons passed, the ‘Directive of Uninvolvement’ was overwritten ---
“At the time of our ancestors arrival there was a species present that had raised itself from all the rest: they too had the capacity to think, learn, and change the environment in which they lived. ‘Free Will’. It was the dawn of man’s existence. The play of human Genesis had begun; the opening pages were being acted out for our race, and subsequently our race had an effect on them – “
“Why am I here?” I became angered. My body was still restrained. I had no interest in the creature’s ancestors. I was concerned with myself! “Why have you taken Frank and me? I want to know!”
“Our cities require your kinds’ presence,” the creature continued. “You and your friend shall serve the Sanctification in a multitude of ways. It is here that you shall begin a pathway of enlightenment and become an active participant in a new culture. We know no better means by which to introduce this reality upon you. In time you will come to learn that your reason for being here is for your benefit and that of all mankind.”
Rage boiled up inside of me. I was a prisoner. Death would be a better alternative. A more noble ending than sub servitude! I didn’t know whether to try and kill the creature now or calm myself, submit -- then crush the life from it. I tried to sort things out. No doubt the creature following my every thought. I didn’t care. No privacy; secrets. Slave – city. If they were so advanced, why couldn’t they build robots for their work? If they have been here since the beginning of man why hadn’t they shown themselves – or perhaps they already have. Government secrets. Cover-ups. Conspiracies. Why? Why me? My family? What about them? I needed to escape this nightmare.”
