by Nick Braker
“Yes, it’s us. We’re alive. We don’t have much time. The ship is low on power and we need to make an emergency landing,” he said.
“We’re in Asia at the moment but we can reach WSO easily through our EPs,” she told him.
“That makes sense. Let them know we’re on our way in. Please have medical crews and supplies standing by at the D.C. landing site. We’re coming in hot. It’s great to hear your voice, Ruth.” Grep told her, his voice thick with emotion.
“It’s even better to hear all of your voices. We thought you were lost,” Ruth said.
“Us too.”
He wanted to ask more but there was too much to do and he needed to focus on getting them safely home. Having Ruth tell him any bad news was just not on his agenda. They needed to worry about themselves right now. Ruth cut the connection.
“Jules, course?” he asked.
“We are good, Grep. Course is steady and on target. Speed is well within the safety limits for our approach through the atmosphere.”
“Seph, ship systems?” he questioned.
She didn’t respond but she did hear him. He got up and moved to hover next to her. Her lack of response was intentional, which meant the news was bad.
“Seph?”
“Grep, power reserves are at 1.2%. We lost 0.1% on the small course changes around the debris in our path. There were more than we anticipated,” she said.
She was going to cry.
“ Seph, hold it together. It’s not your fault. We need you clear-headed.”
He put his arms around her.
“Hold on, my love. We’re going to do this. I’m getting you home safely. I promise.”
She started to protest, tears forming.
“Do you see me glaring at you?” he said, trying to joke with her. “I’m going to hold my hand up in a second if you don’t snap to it.”
She was getting the patented Josephina Kenton glare and hand motion she always used on him and Brock. She hugged him, holding back her tears.
“You are right, I--,” she started to say.
“Zip it,” he joked, duplicating her hand motion flawlessly.
She wiped her eyes, sitting up straight.
“Yes, sir. I am on it.”
“Gang,” he said, “we have 1.2% power but we need 1.3% to land this ship. The 1.3% is the minimum needed to stop our descent safely but we’ll make it. The margin of error will allow the 0.1% difference. We’ll be fine.”
The margin of error was real but he would feel a lot better if they were 0.1% higher. The ship’s shields were down and the only thing they had were their engines. They would make it. After all they had been through, they had to make it.
The ship began signaling the effects of the atmosphere upon the hull. The noise was light at first, barely noticeable, but now friction generated heat on the hull and the noise pushed the bounds of their tolerance. Jules and Seph had to remain at their stations and, as captain, so did he. The others huddled in the middle, buried within the soft pile. They had secured it days before and now it helped protect them from the noise and vibrations that shook the ship. Minutes passed as they sliced through the Earth’s atmosphere, the ship slowing from Jules’ ministrations. Their parabolic trajectory would drop them right into the D.C. facility. The assisted landing systems at the facility would slow them quickly, killing most of their speed, while the engines dumped every ounce of power to assist in stopping them.
They flew blind until they approached within 100 miles. On her mark, Seph activated the navigations systems, which instantly fed accurate distance and heading information to Jules. She was an incredible pilot, capable of landing this vessel on a dime but no one was willing to take that chance given the limitations of their power, limits that also forced them to keep the gravity well generator completely off.
“Mark,” Seph yelled, activating the navigation system.
“I got it. Three... two... one...,” Jules said, firing the ship’s engines to full thrust as it entered the top of the landing facility.
Everyone braced as gravity and inertia grabbed them in a single motion, forcing them hard into the floor. The pressure was intense. Grep struggled to breathe. He could see Jules try to brace her arms as the massive force pushed them into the console. She made every effort to remain seated upright, close to the controls. Grep wanted to help, tell her to focus, to try harder but all he could see was his vision fading into a single point of light in front of him.
Strange, why is this happening?
Then it was over. He shook the fog from his head. The sound was gone and the ship wasn’t moving.
Did they make it?
Jules stood in front of him, trying to tell him something. She was smiling, which was good but he couldn’t hear her.
“Grep... Grep. You passed out. Okay, you are back now. You are okay. We made it,” Jules exclaimed.
Grep held his head but his first thought was Seph. He spun, forcing himself to concentrate. She was groggy but managed to stand. He took two steps and they landed in each other’s arms. He kissed her as the arms of everyone onboard joined theirs in a full group hug.
“We made it,” Mira whispered hoarsely.
“Hell, yeah,” Brock yelled and then added several hoots.
“Let’s get out of here,” Grep told them.
He kept his arm around Seph as they all walked down the command deck ramp to stand in front of the airlock door. They cranked the inner door open and then cranked the outer door. The air pressurized and the smell of the freshly painted and sterile landing facility filled the chamber. It was nighttime in D.C. The moon’s light shone through the still-open aperture above. No one else seemed to notice. Seph started crying, the emotional roller coaster of the last several days breaking the dam she had built and bringing all of it crashing down. Grep could tell the tears were both joy and relief, all fueled by days of despair, worry, and fear. They stepped out into the open-topped chamber. The huge ship still radiated heat from their re-entry. They dropped their blankets, letting it warm them. Grep looked up to the stars. They were a million times lovelier from the ground than they were from space, at least at the moment. He smiled. They made it.
Tom was the first to reach them, followed by medics, agents and the ship’s technical crews.
“Dear god, Grep. You made it,” Tom called out.
Grep had never seen him so happy, ever. He shook his hand and slapped him on the back.
“Great job. All of you. Seph. Mira. Zara. Jules. Hell, even you, Brock.”
They all laughed.
“Good to see you too, sir,” said Brock. “Wait. Did I just say sir?”
He laughed even more and slapped Tom on the back, giving him a quick embrace. Tom’s faced blanched, realization dawning on him.
“Where’s Warren?” he asked tentatively, already knowing the answer.
“Tom. Warren did not...” Zara said, shaking her head.
She looked like she would cry again but she was so emotionally exhausted there was nothing left.
“We didn’t have enough power,” Mira whispered, unable to speak the rest aloud.
“Let’s get you inside. The medics are going to shoot me if I don’t let them tend to you,” Tom said. “We’ll talk later.”
The six of them headed inside, medics quickly bombarding them with questions. Grep disengaged from Seph. She nodded at him and went with the others.
“Tom. We lost Warren. He was incredible, though. We talked with him for several minutes via EP. He was the most courageous man I’ve ever met. He faced death with such dignity.” Grep told him. His hands started to shake and his voice cracked. Grep couldn’t contain the dam that he, too, had created. “Tom, I couldn’t find a way to save him. There was nothing I could do.”
“Grep, enough. Get inside. Let the medics tend to you. You need medical attention. That is an order,” he commanded.
Grep nodded. He followed Tom through several corridors, ending up in the clinic. He lost track of t
ime as the medics worked on him. He was exhausted. They hooked him up to an IV, giving him a saline solution. Several questions later, he could no longer resist. The situation was over and his mind was finally able to shut off. He closed his eyes, letting sleep consume him.
Chapter 30
WARREN
Earth - WSO Landing Facility
Alexandria parked her car in front of the facility’s main entrance. The WSO landing facility was barren of personnel outside the building’s perimeter, with one exception. The guard at the door nodded curtly at Alexandria, motioning them both to follow. Moments later, inside the building, he opened a door labeled Medical. A cacophony of sound and light replaced the quiet darkness of the hallways outside. Magnus blinked his eyes. Brock, Zara and Mira were still awake but their wearied and haggard faces came through clearly to him. They had been through hell over the last few days. No one had said a word about what had happened to his crew since returning. Even Alexandria hadn’t been informed. He didn’t like this. Someone was keeping information to a minimum and that meant they didn’t want something to get out. He pushed his finger inside his cast and scratched. The itch did not subside.
Grep and Seph lay like rag dolls on their beds. They were out cold. Jules was awake in bed but she rolled over after seeing Magnus, facing away from him.
“Where is Warren?” Magnus asked.
“I don’t know,” Alexandria said, her gaze flitting around the room.
She pointed at one of the medics.
“Christian,” Alexandria said. “Where is Agent Clayton?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. These were the only ones to leave the ship,” he said.
He looked down as he turned away to tend to his patient. Magnus’ hands trembled. Was Warren dead?
“Don’t go there yet, Magnus,” she said, trying to calm him.
“Let’s talk to Brock,” Magnus said.
She nodded at him. Magnus placed his hand on the shoulder of the medic tending to Brock. The medic turned, saw Magnus and then nodded, moving away to give them some privacy.
“Hey, man,” Magnus said.
“Mag! Dude, you’re okay?” Brock asked.
“Yeah, just this war wound,” he said, showing Brock the cast on his left arm.
“That portal busted you up good,” he said, getting quiet.
He stared into Brock’s eyes and everything he wanted to know was there. Warren was dead, he just didn’t know how.
“I’m sorry, Mag,” Brock said, his voice breaking up.
His eyes welled up with tears but none fell.
“How?” Magnus asked.
“He came through the portal last.” Brock said. “The ship had almost no power but Grep managed to pick up both Zara and I through the airlock. We started back toward Earth because that was all the power we had. We all hoped Warren was still in the underground facility, safe. He wasn’t. He popped up on our EPs but--”
“We did not have the power to change course, pick him up and then get back on course to Earth,” Zara continued.
“We just made it with no power to spare,” Mira added. “Magnus, I am so sorry.”
Everything he had worried about had come true. Someone he cared about had died and it was his fault, again.
Earth - Washington, D.C.
Weeks Later
The Washington, DC traffic flowed by in waves of starts and stops. Aggravated drivers sometimes honked their horns intensifying the already dismal commutes of others. Magnus sat at one of the coffee shop’s outdoor tables. The cold from the hard, metallic chair and the air around him leached the heat from his body. The coffee shop wasn’t the greatest of places but he wanted a public and noisy meeting spot to talk with Grep. The traffic seemed endless but what else would one expect during rush hour? He lost track of time waiting on Grep but the coffee was good and the heat from it and the sun made the wait bearable. He heard steps coming up behind him and then Grep sat down directly across from him.
“How are you feeling?” Grep asked.
“Fine, I guess.” Magnus said. “You?”
“Good.”
He hadn’t spoken to Grep since the catastrophe over three weeks ago. Grep had been unconscious at the medical facility when he had arrived and afterward they had avoided each other. He knew Grep was still angry and probably would be for a very long time. Magnus didn’t blame him. It was his fault after all.
Magnus wanted to move on and he didn’t want to give Grep any time to control the conversation so he had to get straight to it.
“Grep, I want to tell you about something.” Magnus said.
“Are we talking now?” Grep asked.
“Probably never again like we used to but it’s not like we have much of a choice.” Magnus said, holding back the comments he wanted to say. “What I mean is, I am sure you have been thinking about this stuff. Hell, you never stop thinking about anything.”
He could see the tension in Grep building. Grep still couldn’t hide his emotions.
“Is this about Warren again?” Grep asked, his anger rising.
“No, just listen.”
“I am listening,” he growled.
“Look, Grep, I don’t think this shit is over. We have seen too much strange alien activity and it doesn’t all match up.”
“Are you finally coming to that obvious conclusion?”
“Damn, man, give me a minute to make my point.”
“Go on.”
“First of all, Toni and the prostitute were unique in their form of death. We are certain that the Alpha aliens were involved in killing them. I can’t help but think that we were never supposed to see either one of those scenes. I mean, I feel as if something or someone was pushing me. This is going to sound stupid so just keep your damn comments to yourself.”
“Fine.”
“Well, I can’t help but feel that there was a purpose for me seeing both of them. There were so many similarities between the two. Damn it, this shit isn’t over, is it?” He willed himself to slow down, he needed to get this off of his chest. “All the deaths and missing people around the planet, bodies with missing glands, aliens on a spaceship that we captured and then we have these Kron that are supposedly able to take control of humans from light years away. What the hell?”
“We know all of this. Where are you going?” Grep asked.
“Grep, this shit isn’t over.” Magnus said again, ignoring his question. “You and the girls have to find out what is going on and stop these alien fuckers.”
Grep didn’t respond, that could only mean that Magnus wouldn’t like what Grep planned to say next.
“Magnus, according to Alara, you are the key to saving the world. Not me and not the girls. You.”
“More destiny bullshit?”
“No, more timeline prediction bullshit.”
“I already quit WSO even though I don’t think they are going to just let me walk away. I’m not even sure that I will wake up tomorrow.”
“Don’t be stupid, they are just giving you time to cool off and realize that you can’t leave. They are not going to kill you. Well, at least not yet.”
Magnus sighed.
“Well, it’s out of my hands. You and the girls have to take care of things now.”
“You really are intentionally blinding yourself to the patterns of people and events around you.” Grep said. “Magnus, this is still in your hands. I am afraid that the rest of us have little to do with future events after this. You should really spend some time with Alara and talk to her about this.” Grep let the last word drag out as if he wanted to say something else. “Magnus, you need to pay more attention to Alara.”
“What do you mean? You make it sound like we are couple or something.”
“What I mean is that you need to watch her smile, her face, her eyes and her body language. It’s subtle but when she is around you her smile is wider, her face is a brighter, and her eyes sparkle.”
“You forgot to tell me what to look for in the body la
nguage. Slipping?”
“Just pay attention. If you can’t see these things for yourself then it’s not going to matter.”
“What about Jules? Why haven’t you brought her up?” Magnus asked, trying to switch the subject.
“Jules isn’t meant for you. She loves you, but you and her are not compatible long term. She doesn’t know that yet and no one can tell her that. She’d never believe them. Mira tried but she holds on, hoping.”
“Yeah, but she’d leave like the rest of them at some point,” Magnus whispered.
They always leave whether by choice or not.
“This isn’t the time for me to give you advice. You’re not ready.”
“More timeline crap?”
“No, more friendship crap, you dumbass.”
He wanted to change the subject again. Grep’s comments about Alara were bothering him. Alara was a fantastic beauty and knowing she believed they were already destined to be together scared him. He loved Beth and no one would ever replace her.
“You make it sound like Alara is in love with me.”
“It is a bit more serious than that.”
“What the hell is more serious than that?”
“Mag, I will see you in three weeks, given your current mood and the fact that I am predicting what you are going to do, along with how stubborn you’ll get knowing what I’m doing.” Grep stood, nodded and walked away. He yelled back. “When you arrive, please bring Seph and me a bottle of Brunello di Montalcino, 1958 will do nicely. We’ll celebrate as best we can.”
“Bullshit,” Magnus told him. “Bullshit.”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Nick Braker graduated with a BS in computing science from the University of Evansville before launching a career in computer programming, engineering, and management. Married and a father of two, Braker is also an avid table tennis player and role-playing gamer.
Paul E. Hicks earned a BS degree in both computer science and mathematics from the University of Tennessee, Knoxville. Currently working as an IT manager and a Tae Kwon Do instructor, he is married with one son.
