Ghosts of Ophidian

by McElhaney, Scott

  Dr. Dawn Crossway – Biologist – Mount Union

  David Roberts – Electrician & IT – USAF SSgt

  “Just five people,” he muttered to himself, “To greet a ship full of aliens bent on human annihilation.”

  The Colonel explained that they would not receive any proper astronaut training since they would be headed up to the ship in the very near future. He only hoped that the weightlessness of space wouldn’t interfere with his ability to keep his food down. He wondered for a moment if he could handle a weapon in the weightlessness of space. This thought led to the question of whether a weapon would act as a propellant when fired, launching the wielder backward.

  His thoughts were interrupted by the announcement that the aircraft would be beginning its descent soon and that everyone should return to their seats. He folded his orders again and tucked them into his backpack.

  Five

  “Welcome to the old BEQ,” the Air Force woman stated, “Your unit owns the entire building – all forty-eight bedrooms, six bathrooms, and three rec rooms.”

  “For five people?” Conner asked, “We get a whole bachelor’s enlisted quarters to ourselves?”

  “Trust me, Flipper, this isn’t special treatment,” she said, “We’re tearing down this building next month. We built a new BEQ on the other side of the base.”

  That was the third time she called him Flipper and it was actually starting to irritate him. He knew nothing of Air Force ranks, but the five bowed stripes on her arm couldn’t account for much more than the three chevrons he once wore in the Navy. Even so, she had no right to be inflicting a nickname upon him already.

  “So, we’re staying in a condemned building,” he said, noticing suddenly how the paint was peeling in the corridor.

  “Not to worry. You won’t be here long from what I hear. We’ve got a shuttle launch scheduled for Tuesday and I’m assuming you’ll be on board,” she said, gesturing toward an open area where he noticed several sofas, a television, and a couple tables, “Here’s the main rec room where everyone seems to enjoy meeting every morning. Beyond that, you’ve got your choice of rooms, Flip.”

  “What’s with the ‘Flipper’?” he growled, turning to her.

  “You’re a SEAL, right?” she asked innocently.

  “No, I was a SEAL who fought Al Qaeda while you and your Airmen enjoyed your air conditioned BEQs here in the States,” he said, raising his hands quickly in apology, “I’m sorry… just…”

  “No, I’m sorry, Mr. Steele,” she said, “It was a stupid attempt to make you somehow more approachable in my mind, I guess. Maybe to make you feel more comfortable before you… well, before you go up there.”

  He shook his head and patted her on the shoulder.

  “I understand, I think. I’ve been through quite an ordeal recently and I sometimes feel that people don’t understand or really care. Your intent wasn’t along those lines, so forgive my outburst,” he said, offering her a smile, “Besides, Flipper was a dolphin and I was a seal.”

  He flapped his arms like seal flippers and offered a couple barks. She laughed, then nodded toward the hallway.

  “Pick any room and then come back down here at nine. McKenzie is calling a late night briefing now that you’re here,” she said.

  . . . .

  Conner settled into a room just two doors down from the room he was told to return to later. He dropped his backpack onto the bed and emptied the contents. He inventoried all his belongings. A set of Navy sweats, three sets of boxers, three pairs of socks, a pair of jeans, and a blue and white plaid shirt. He also located a stick of deodorant, a bottle of liquid soap, and a dental hygiene kit.

  He surveyed the room and realized he wouldn’t be making much use of the majority of it. He had two closets, three beds, and three dressers. Everything in the room bore some sign of abuse, whether it was chipping paint or the remnants of some ancient offending decal that had been removed.

  Nine o’clock wasn’t far off and arrived quicker than he had expected. By the time he arrived in the rec room, everyone was already there, spread out across the many pieces of furniture. His first thought was that he was suddenly a lowly teenager who had mistakenly stumbled upon a retirement home.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said, waving a greeting toward the man standing near the television, “Conner Steele at your service.”

  “Nice to meet you, Conner,” the man near the television replied, “I’m Austin McKenzie and I’ll be heading up this mission once we’re on the shuttle. Our real boss however is Major General Donald Keith.”

  McKenzie was a balding gentleman who couldn’t have been more than five years out from retirement. He sported a thin grey moustache that reminded him a little of Vincent Price.

  “Dean Lentz,” another man stated, rising from his spot on the sofa and quickly shaking Conner’s hand, “I’m the engineer. McKenzie and I both hail from two previous shuttle missions, so we’re here to offer any assistance or answers to questions you may have when it comes to orbital missions.”

  Although Lentz’s head full of grey hair had initially contributed to Conner’s “retirement village” hypothesis, his chiseled, tan face spoke of a man in his late thirties. Perhaps Conner would fit in after all.

  “I’m Dawn Crossway, the mission biologist,” the woman who had been leaning against the wall stated, “And I believe you are the man with the cutting torches and the explosives.”

  “So I hear,” Conner replied with a grin and a handshake, “If you want to get inside, I’ll be providing the door.”

  Crossway had the rugged appearance of a woman who had given up on her appearance long ago. While she was definitely in shape and probably even muscular beneath those loose-fitting jeans and the oversize “Indians” T-shirt, the dark circles under her eyes, the lack of makeup of any sort, and the frayed appearance of her long brown hair suggested she didn’t care what others saw in her.

  “David Roberts, computers and electrical,” another man said, rising from another sofa to shake Conner’s hand, “I hear you used to be a Navy SEAL. Actually, rumor has it that you were just rescued from a POW camp.”

  Conner shook the man’s hand and also shook his own head in denial.

  “It’s true I served for six years as a Navy SEAL, but it wasn’t a POW camp that I was rescued from. Though I guess it might as well have been. It was some underground detention cell somewhere in North Korea and my captors didn’t seem to believe in the Geneva Convention. Suffice to say, anything that happened in the past month most likely didn’t happen at all and I’m sure the Koreans will agree in order to save face.”

  McKenzie laughed.

  “Well, whatever was in the past, we welcome you to the crew. I apologize in advance for the fact that we will receive next to no training whatsoever before we head up there on Tuesday.”

  “I disagree, Doctor McKenzie,” a deep voice bellowed behind Conner.

  He turned to discover yet another older man. This sturdy African American however was dressed in the blue camouflage that could only be found in Air Force BDUs. Conner immediately noted the two black stars on his collar.

  “Major General Keith,” the man said by way of introduction, “You must be the muscle on this mission. Petty Officer Steele?”

  “Yes, sir,” Conner shook the General’s hand, “Though I’m not in the Navy anymore, so I guess the ‘Petty Officer’ title doesn’t work anymore.”

  “As far as I’m concerned, you were sworn in and took the oath to your nation, so you are still military in my eyes. You still have a responsibility to me and to your country. Am I right?”

  Conner nodded, “Yes, sir.”

  “And I already got the news that you didn’t have any time to pack thanks to some people who apparently had a problem with your face,” he said with a grin as he pointed to the bruising around Conner’s eye, “You’ll be wearing Air Force BDUs - same as me and same as Sergeant Roberts over there.”

  “Yes, sir,” David hollered from h
is spot on the sofa.

  It was then that Conner realized that Roberts wasn’t actually wearing a uniform. Instead, he was only wearing a pair of plaid boxers and a plain white T-shirt. He also appeared to show no respect whatsoever for the General, as he remained seated with his leg drawn up over the arm of the couch. He remembered now that Roberts was listed on his orders as a Staff Sergeant in the Air Force. David Roberts was the only one in the room who was probably younger than Conner.

  “Although it’ll never be official in any way, I’m also reinstating your E-6 rank for the course of this mission, Sergeant Steele. I’ll have three sets of BDUs delivered to your room with the rank of Technical Sergeant sewn onto the sleeves. I’m sorry sailor, but you’re a soldier now,” the General said.

  “I’m honored, sir, and I’ll treat that uniform and the Air Force with the honor they deserve,” Conner stated.

  “What’s your boot size, Sergeant?” the General asked.

  “Twelve and a half, sir,” Conner replied.

  “Got it.”

  General Keith moved past Conner and approached the sofa where Lentz was seated. Conner wondered for a moment why the General accepted the disrespect of David Roberts. As the General took a seat in the armchair near Lentz, he noted quickly how relaxed and casual the whole crew seemed to be – the General included.

  “Well, people, tomorrow’s the last day we’ve got before the launch. Dr. McKenzie’s statement that we will not be offering you much in the way of training is incorrect. You will definitely be lacking in the rigorous training that we typically offer our astronauts. Doctor’s McKenzie and Lentz can vouch for this,” the General stated, leaning forward on his elbows and clasping his hands together, “But you will be receiving the basics all day tomorrow beginning at 6:00am and going all the way through until dark. If you want breakfast or a shower, you will need to get up earlier and still manage to be ready to begin by six.”

  “Should we eat breakfast, General?” Dawn Crossway asked.

  “Yes, Dr. Crossway, I do recommend you eat,” he replied, “We won’t be putting your through any of those infamous stomach-churning tests, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  “We’ll save all the barfing for Tuesday,” Roberts added.

  “No one barfs on this mission or they will answer to me when they return,” the General added, “And no one eats breakfast on Tuesday anyway.”

  “I have a question, General Keith,” Conner said.

  “What’s that, Sergeant?”

  “Will we be armed? I mean, the odds are pretty high that we’re going to be faced with some sort of creatures and probably a lot of them,” he said.

  “Yes, you will all be armed with small firearms – small because you will need to be mobile and we don’t know how tight the spaces will be that you’ll be working in. We’ve chosen the MAC-11 machine pistols for everyone except Steele,” the General said, nodding to Conner, “You will be armed with an FN P90 as you’ll be the only one with a standing authorization to shoot. The P90 carries a lot of ammo for such a small weapon and should serve you well up there.”

  “What do you mean that he’s the only one authorized?” Lentz asked, “Why even arm us then?”

  “You’re armed so that you can defend yourselves if needed, Doctor. But beware - if you fire that weapon, you’d better be ready to answer for it and defend your decision before a judge,” the General stated, “I’m not telling you not to use your weapon because God knows, you could very well need to. Heck, if you draw that weapon to save your lives, I say ‘shoot to kill’.”

  “So, then what’s different about the SEAL’s authorization?” Roberts asked, nodding angrily toward Conner.

  “Steele will be the first man in. That’s the first man into the ship, the first man into a corridor, and the first man into any room. He will be making split-second decisions just like he was trained to do in the Navy. As he can tell you, those decisions require a trained mind that isn’t focused on the repercussions.”

  Roberts shook his head and released an audible sigh. Conner was already getting a little worried about how hard it would be to keep such a maverick in line. He already wanted to shoot a gun that he didn’t even have in his possession yet.

  “Trust me, if I start shooting, I’m probably going to want you to do the same,” Conner said, “Just please don’t accidentally shoot me or anyone in our crew.”

  “It sounds to me, General, that you’ve already changed who the mission commander is, sir,” McKenzie said.

  “Not at all, Doctor. You are still the mission commander. Steele is the muscle. You will all be working together, people,” the General said, looking around the room, “Why do you already seem so argumentative?”

  “I don’t care who the commander is,” Lentz said, “I’m just here to get the job done and come home with some answers.”

  “Exactly,” Crossway added, “Let’s just get moving and get this whole situation over with.”

  Conner nodded and realized that the group was finally in agreement on the most important part. Roberts finally nodded, then leaned back and crossed his arms.

  Six

  The next day began with a 4:30 wakeup call, or more accurately a wakeup knock. He slowly rolled out of bed, while his impatient visitor proceeded to knock again.

  “Hold on,” Conner groaned.

  He was still experiencing a bit of trouble loosening his muscles in the morning thanks to that trouble in North Korea. The first few steps took a bit of work, but finally he felt his usual mobility return. He opened the door to discover a high school kid wearing an Air Force uniform. Conner rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

  “Sergeant Steele?” the boy said, “These uniforms and boots are from the Major General.”

  Conner looked down and finally realized what the kid was holding. The neatly pressed stack of clothes in his hands would have impressed even the most particular of SEAL instructors. The boots even looked like they’d been recently polished to high shine.

  “Thank you,” Conner said, accepting the kid’s gift.

  The boy left without another word while Conner stood there in his doorway. He looked at the boy and shook his head.

  “I swear, the military must be taking kids before they even reach puberty anymore,” he muttered, then shut his door.

  Conner showered and shaved, then got dressed in his new set of blue camouflage BDUs. He was surprised at how well they fit in spite of the fact that no one had taken his measurements. It felt good to be in uniform again, even if it wasn’t his Alma Mater.

  He turned in front of the mirror, examining the rank insignia sewn on his sleeve. He appreciated having more stripes even though it was the same rank as the three chevrons he wore in the Navy. The five chevrons on his patch somehow looked more important.

  He was joined in the hall by both of the experienced astronauts, Austin McKenzie and Dean Lentz. They offered to show him to the mess hall, an invitation he immediately accepted.

  Neither man seemed very talkative on the way to breakfast or in the chow line. Conner finally broke the ice when they sat down to eat.

  “You both have been in space before,” Conner said, peppering his ham and cheese omelet, “Am I right?”

  “Yes, two shuttle missions each,” McKenzie stated, “We were only on one mission together though.”

  “Will this be NASA’s first shuttle launch since the ship arrived?” Conner asked.

  “Of course,” Lentz stated, eyeballing him curiously, “Oh, I forgot that you were in that POW camp for the past few weeks. Yeah, it’s our first physical attempt to communicate with them. China’s gone up already and so did that private organization Virgin Galactic. They accomplished nothing more than proving we can go near the ship without being fired upon. Heck, China went so far as to attach probes to two of the vents.”

  “Really?” Conner asked, taking a bite of his sausage link, “And the ship didn’t respond at all?”

  “Nothing whatsoever,” Lentz replied, �
��The probes they placed let us know that the ship is venting off clean CO2 every six and a half hours from one vent and radioactive steam every fourteen hours from the other. That tells us a lot actually.”

  “They breathe oxygen and consider CO2 to be a waste product,” Conner offered, “Same as us.”

  “Yes, and they are also using a form of nuclear energy aboard or they wouldn’t have a need to vent off the steam from the reactors,” he replied, “Essentially, these creatures aren’t all that different from us.”

  “Are any other nations planning to go up there?” Conner asked.

  “Not once they heard about our plans,” McKenzie stated, “All eyes are upon us now, same as China had the world’s attention when they put the probes on the vents. For once, the whole world appears to be cooperating.”

  “Yeah, all it took was an alien invasion,” Conner laughed.

  . . . .

  They returned to the rec room by 6:00am and found the General already waiting for them. Conner was impressed to note that David Roberts was in uniform and that his uniform was neatly pressed. Dawn Crossway looked a little better today as her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and the dark circles under her eyes weren’t as prominent. She was however not wearing any makeup again.

  “Today is the day, people,” the General stated, “If you don’t master it today, you never will. No matter what happens, that shuttle is launching at 8:45 tomorrow morning.”

  After a short meeting to layout the plans of the day, the General dismissed them. They had fifteen minutes to report to the gun range where they would learn the effects of aiming and firing weapons while wearing a bulky spacesuit. They would be wearing spacesuits for much of the day as they learned to perform a multitude of tasks while suited up.

  Seven

  It was almost ten o’clock at night before they were finally excused to return to the BEQ. Roberts, Lentz, and McKenzie were married and had spouses waiting for them to share one last evening together. Their spouses were permitted to stay with them tonight, though they had to leave by 5:00am.