The Third Craft
Page 31
In deference to Wixon’s inability to withstand sudden acute velocity, the Bot took four minutes to return to the vessel, roughly half speed. A portal opened and the two entered. The ship’s ambient light helped make the passageways visible to Wixon as he was carried to a small room the size of a shower stall. Wixon was deposited inside. He never lost consciousness. The whole event was so surreal that – with help from the sonic control exerted by the Bot – his mind had gone into a kind of sensory overload.
Wixon watched the stall door flick shut. The Bot’s control over his body ceased. He shook his head and blinked. His mind reactivated. He stared down toward his feet at a thick green goop that snaked up his legs. Wixon pushed against the door, pounding first with his fist, then with his shoulder. The liquid rose so quickly that he had no time to assess or react to the situation. He cried out in horror just before his entire body was submerged.
CHAPTER36
LOS ALAMOS, NEW MEXICO, 1962
Kor thrust himself up from the depths of nothingness to the surface of consciousness. As he burst upward, through the fog, he became self-aware and rejoiced in the sudden, noisy roar of being alive.
Again!
I was, and I am again!
His first thoughts were disjointed and chaotic: dazzling flashes of blinding light, tingling feelings at his extremities, and a searing headache.
Kor was acquiescing once again to the control and discipline of the mind. That world of Being, a glorious celebration of bright color and joy, was fading rapidly, as though it had all been a dream. The dream lost color and substance, turning into a tumbling waterfall that crashed into the present.
Kor drifted in and out of consciousness, like a log floating down a creek, occasionally bumping into obstacles but still lumbering on. He was disoriented, as if waiting for his mind and memories to catch up with him. He was waking up after a very long sleep. He didn’t know where he was, or who he was.
Kor sensed his Being, mind, and body begin to reach an apex and then merge into one.
In a flash of light, reality burst through, blowing away the cobwebs of errant thought.
There was a roaring noise as blood pounded through his skull. He was overwhelmed by unfamiliar smells and senses. What has happened?
What’s happening?
Grayer was conscious.
Grayer’s eyes shot open.
He repeated the words like a mantra.
Kor’s data memory began to connect with Grayer’s conscious mind. His mission flashed in his merged mind’s eye.
Outside their internal conversation, all hell had broken loose. It was at that particular moment that the Transition Chamber disintegrated. The fragile repairs to the chamber had failed.
The flimsy transparent tubes burst from the makeshift stall and gushed their green blood-like substance all over the polished concrete floor. The transition booth infrastructure groaned under the strain of crude mechanical repairs and began to rattle apart. The human, a man named Frank Grayer, was trapped inside, and was now in danger of drowning in this green substance. Life support had shut down, so the oxygen-nitrogen mix had stopped pumping into the stall. Grayer’s eyes snapped open. He was completely immersed in a green liquid. He held his breath and fought the gag reflex. He could see green light filtering through a glass-like wall.
This was Kor’s first glimpse of his new world. His space voyage had ended here. Instantly he knew what was happening and it wasn’t good. Come to life, regain consciousness, and then what … drown?
Grayer clenched his fists and pounded on the door. He kicked feebly at the stall walls, but to no avail. His oxygen was failing, and he was about to lose consciousness. How did this happen? he wondered.
The urge to breathe fresh oxygen, sweet air, was overwhelming. To compensate, his heart was pumping blood harder, faster, desperate for oxygen.
In the matter of a few frantic moments, Kor’s Primary Code – his genes – had had a chance to worm through Grayer’s genetically primordial body. Second by second, Kor’s gene code overwrote the majority of the existing gene codes in Grayer’s body, shattering blocks of protein molecules and rebuilding them. It reconstructed most of the codes exactly as they had been, but replaced others with genetically advanced structures.
Grayer began to recover his senses. Kor’s advanced alien infrastructure instructed the body to produce extra adrenalin, and the chemical coursed its way throughout their shared body. Kor’s protective aura took hold and automatically cosseted the body in a cocoon of synthesized air derived from the green liquid. The need for oxygen abated.
The chamber stopped vibrating. The automatic cycling program – designed to transition the digital information from the crypt-orb into a body – was now complete. It had successfully downloaded all the data.
The end-of-cycle command ordered the door to open. The entry popped loose and slid partway open. Then the damaged unit jammed. Green liquid poured out onto the lacquered floor like jade corn syrup.
A man in a white lab coat rushed over and grabbed at the door with both hands and yanked it open. Grayer collapsed into his arms. The man dragged Grayer away from the gushing stall and wrapped his body in a lab coat. He made a pillow out of his oversized radiation gloves.
Under the white glow and faint buzz of the laboratory’s fluorescent lights, Kor had been delivered into his new world: his new Sargon.
Grayer/Kor regained his senses and looked about. He looked down at his body, opening and closing his hands like a robot testing his circuits, then stared at his fuzzy primitive paws.
Hair! Ape-like hairy arms and hands!
Grayer/Kor struggled to get up but was as weak as a baby. He laid his head back on the makeshift pillow, gazed upward, and chuckled to himself. He had transitioned into a new body and was on a new planet.
It had worked!
The scientist saw a faint green glow radiating from behind Grayer’s eyes. Kor’s aura was still protecting the body.
Oh my God, the scientist thought, radiation poisoning.
“Let me help,” the man said anxiously. “Are you OK, Frank?”
Kor/Grayer took one look at the fellow. His eyes widened and he flinched involuntarily at the sight of this garbling man – helpful but wondrously primitive. Data began to flood in. He had a name: David Bohr, David Bohr the scientist. He was hairy and had wrinkled skin that was blotched with sun radiation damage and aging scars. He wore round mineral orbs about his eyes. Their function was to improve the man’s vision. These orbs of glass distorted incoming light to create images that appeared in “correct” focus to the wearer.
But the curious smile was soon gone.
The stench of
male human flesh caused Grayer to throw his head to one side and retch onto the floor. These humans carried such a putrid odor of dead flesh about them. It hung in the air. Grayer’s skin rippled in repulsion as the man reached out and touched him on the shoulder.
“Did you swallow some of that green bile, Frank?” the man asked, moving closer to Grayer. “Is that it? Cough it up then. Get it out of your system.”
The stench of Bohr’s carrion breath was overwhelming. Grayer coughed, vomiting clear liquid at the man’s feet.
Grayer struggled dizzily to his feet and gently pushed Bohr aside. He found a concrete pillar and rested his forehead against the stony coolness. He gulped in air. His mind was racing. The internal conversation between Grayer and Kor continued.
“I just can’t think straight,” Grayer said out loud.
Bohr stood by, staring helplessly at Grayer, whose arms were now wrapped around the pillar for support, his shoulders heaving. Bohr shuffled his feet from side to side and reached out his arms to offer comfort.
“This is overwhelming,” Grayer groaned out loud.
Bohr wrung his hands in despair.
“Are you sure you’re OK, Frank?” Bohr asked again.
Grayer stared at the lights on the ceiling and the equipment. After a long pause, he turned away from the pillar and looked at Bohr. “Give me a minute,” he croaked. “We think we are.”
Bohr scrunched up his eyebrows and laughed nervously. “I beg your pardon? I thought you said we. Are you really sure you’re all right?”
Bohr motioned toward Grayer as if to comfort him. Grayer held up his hand to ward him off. He absently wiped the spittle and the traces of vomit from his lips. “You heard me correctly, David. I did say we. Now I want you to prepare yourself for something quite odd.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Perhaps you should sit down.”
Bohr pulled a lab stool over toward Grayer.
Grayer/Kor simply couldn’t bear his close proximity. “How about that chair?” he said, pointing to one several feet away.
Bohr looked hurt and slightly confused, but he complied. “Will you please tell me what’s going on?”
Grayer/Kor gathered his wits and his breath. “There was a change, a transformation of sorts, that happened to me inside that contraption, that chamber.”
“What kind of change?”
“David, that ball you activated was a hibernation device called a crypt-orb.”
Bohr instantly felt uneasy. “How could you ever know that?”
“It is what it is. It’s a device used to digitally store brain data.”
“Frank, how could you …”
“Please, David, let me continue. This is hard enough as it is. As I was saying, data was transferred to Frank’s brain inside the chamber. That is what the machine does. It transfers data biologically through that green liquid that acts as a transition medium. You have to understand that the activation sequence you stumbled upon downloaded the digital information of my alien self’s mind and body codes, to allow it to cohabit with my human self.”
“Cohabit?”
“Yes. David, you must have an open mind now, because this is a novel concept. By cohabit I mean that there are two minds and two Beings sharing one body.”
Bohr leaned forward and scrunched up his face, staring deeply into Grayer’s dark brown eyes. “And who, pray tell, are you?”
“My name is Kor and I’m from another planet.”
“Frank, have you gone mad?” he said, rocking backward. “I’m going for help.” He reached toward the red panic button by the lab table.
“Wait, David. Let me explain. Please!”
For the next hour, Kor and Grayer, who were now speaking nearly as one, attempted to explain the transition that had just occurred.
CHAPTER37
Grayer was still soaked with the green slime from the chamber. A mixture of cold and adrenalin was causing him to shake, Bohr noticed.
“I’ve been neglectful. I’m sorry. Frank, you’ll catch your death. Take a nice warm shower and I’ll fetch some fresh clothes for you.”
“Well, I do smell terrible.”
Bohr looked up quizzically and laughed. “No, you don’t.”
A small room off the lab was equipped with showers and toilets. Bohr walked Grayer to the door and left.
As Grayer walked across the gleaming white tiled floor, a waft of putrid air from one of the toilet cubicles caught him off guard. He covered his mouth with his hand, lurched over the nearest sink, and vomited. Suddenly there was a hiss, and a small device on the wall blew out a tiny cloud of fragrance. Grayer puked again.
Grayer stripped off his clothing and flung the articles into a clothes hamper. He walked naked toward the showers. As he passed a wall of mirrors above a row of sinks, he couldn’t help but stop and stare at his body.
Grayer’s hand ran along his slightly matted furry chest and dropped to examine his dangling genitals.
He stepped into the showers and waited. “Activate,” he said.
e>
Grayer reached out and turned the knob and adjusted the water temperature and pressure. The jets of water bit into his skin. It was refreshing and cleansing. Next he reached for a bar of soap and washed his skin. The soap’s fragrance was pleasant enough. His surface oils were flushed down the drain, and he smiled at the lack of male musky odor emanating from his body. He closed his eyes and savored the warm streams of liquid flowing over his skin. The sensation was soothing, serene – the first peaceful moment he had enjoyed since infiltration.
Grayer felt the angst ebb from his body. He stood quietly for several minutes before opening his eyes. He turned his face up to greet the gush of water and cranked his neck around to loosen up.
After a few minutes he looked down at his belly, watching the streams of water cascade past his calves, and saw a puddle of black hair swirling around the chrome drain. How odd! He frowned and looked about in momentary confusion. Confusion turned into alarm. His hair was falling out in clumps! A few remaining strands of pubic hair fluttered in the wash of the streaming water. The rest of his hair was funneling down the drain. His chest hair was oozing down his belly, past his now-bare genitals and flowing to the floor. His legs were as smooth and hairless as a woman’s before a big date.
His hands flew to his head. There was hair, thank God. Then he touched his face. No beard! Soft like a girl’s skin. Grabbing a large bath towel from the rack, Grayer ran to the sinks and stared at his reflection.