by James Harris
“All right, Hawk. I’m with you.” Joe had made his decision. “Let’s get to the spaceship.”
“We’ll put him in the healing chamber. That might buy us some time.”
He got up and, hanging onto the seat backs as he walked, made his way to the front of the aircraft. He told the pilot where they had hidden their spaceship. The pilot nodded and signaled Joe to sit back down and buckle up.
The jet banked sharply to the right and re-entered Washington airspace. They were turning around. The pilot radioed for permission to land at Washington Dulles. It was granted immediately.
The aircraft headed due north and began its descent over Route 95. It nosed toward Centerville, Virginia, and flew over its tiny airfield. Four miles straight ahead, the pilot could see the lights of Chantilly, and from there the Dulles airfield was clearly visible. He followed Sully Road parallel to Runway 19L, touched down on the numbers, and exited the third taxiway.
His jet’s ID was classified, and the landing was expunged from the records.
After a long taxi, the jet parked in front of the rented hangar containing the scout ship. Joe and Hawk exited the jet carrying the body of their father.
The STOL aircraft powered up and taxied away from the hangar. It waited briefly on the taxiway for takeoff clearance. The pilot declined to file a flight plan, pleading military secrecy. Military trumped civilian FCC authority.
Joe pushed open the sliding doors of the hangar and raced to the ship. He palmed the fuselage and the door slid open. The pair carefully lifted Grayer into the ship and took him immediately to the chamber. Joe punched in the code sequence for a healing and diagnostic program. He and Hawk raced to the bridge and took off.
He flew the spaceship like a veteran. No games – all business. He made it to Los Alamos in twenty minutes. The chamber saved Grayer’s life, but his condition was too grave to restore his vitality. The damage was irreversible. He would die outside the chamber.
Hovering out of sight near the canyon, Joe assessed the situation at the AFB. It was after nine at night, New Mexico time. There were no incoming flights for Joe to tag onto and slip unseen onto the base. The base was quiet.
He would have to sneak onto the base another way. Joe guided the hovering craft stealthily toward the west runway. He noted their old house beneath him as he slowly passed over the west end of the field. He kept the craft well below radar and out of the sightlines of the ATC tower. He arched the spaceship into a lazy turn and came to rest in a parking lot hidden from the view of the tower.
There was a small aircraft hangar a few yards away. Joe leaped from the craft and scurried to the hangar. A small Cessna 150 trainer aircraft was parked inside. That left plenty of room for the spaceship. It was highly unlikely that anyone would come snooping around at this late hour. Joe settled the craft inside the hangar and secured the doors shut. He placed a headset on and passed his hands over the control panel. He asked the ship to install a skill set on surgical procedure into his mind. He was specific. The skill he needed implanted was how to exactly perform the transitioning process in each stage of transformation. He wanted to know how to transfer the memory and intelligence contents of the human mind into a digital format that could be transferred back into the brain of Kor.
Next, he requested the process of reverse cybernation. He asked for the instructions Kor’s cyber-crypt needed to reverse the process of deep hibernation. And how to reintroduce the transitioned mind back into a human brain.
Two tiny pins flicked out of the headset and implanted themselves in his head. There was a sudden rush of images. The procedure lasted two hours. Afterward, Joe had a throbbing headache and felt ill. The session had proved to be a great strain and had to be suspended twice to allow his brain tissue to cool and to allow the pain to subside. Nonetheless, the digital memory transfer was successful.
Joe was satisfied that he had accomplished his objectives and felt confident about performing the transition operation. The training dealt more with what could go wrong with the procedure and how to deal with that eventuality. The actual transition operation itself was straightforward. Most of the instruction was on how to save the patient if the process went awry.
While Hawk stayed on the bridge monitoring his father, Joe slipped out of the hangar’s maintenance door and made his way to the lab building close by. It was in darkness. Inside were a few abandoned research offices, desks, black granite lab countertops, and empty white metal cabinets. The paint was peeling off the ceiling in various spots where water had leaked in from the roof. The buildings had a forlorn, neglected look.
He forced the front door open. Joe crept along the hallway to the lab where Grayer’s crypt was stored.
The lab door creaked as he opened it. He froze for a second. What if someone had discovered the crypt and had removed it? He shook the thought from his mind and swung the door completely open.
The stunning white crypt lay prone in the middle of the floor, radiant in the moonlight shining through the bare, dusty windows. A few wisps of steam curled upward from it. The machine was functioning automatically. He could hear a soft humming reminiscent of someone breathing. The cryogenic mechanism continued to keep the body safely frozen. It was designed to operate in outer space for a millennium without maintenance. Here on Earth, however, it was subject to the heat of the desert and was not as efficient.
Joe eyed the oblong box critically. It had been a pain getting it in here. It was going to be even more difficult to move. They would need an anti-grav device. He spun on his heels and ran back to the spaceship.
“We’re ready, Hawk. Are you OK with this?”
Hawk had been quietly apprehensive up to this point. He reached out and put a supportive arm around his brother. Grayer’s life or death was in their hands, and he knew it. All their hopes for Kor’s survival relied on Joe’s ability to pull off a successful transition.
“I’m ready,” Hawk said.
Joe waved a hand at an apparently bare wall outside the chamber and a door slid down revealing a panel of soft light bars. He touched one and the bar shone more intensely. Next, he touched light after light, explaining the sequence to Hawk.
“Let’s monitor the progress,” Joe said, and headed toward the bridge.
Seated in the control room, they watched the transition take place. The chamber transmitted electro-magnetic images from the body suspended within. Brain temperature and vital signs were transmitted on a scrolling readout. The process was purposely slow to ensure temperature stability and safety.
The brothers were able to see an electronic image of their father as his mind was electronically sliced into sections. Each section’s bioelectric impulses were transitioned, transforming them into a readable data format and then stored. It was a heart-wrenching experience watching his dissection. Grayer’s mind pulses went from strong, to weak, to near nothing, and then nothing. His body appeared to be clinically dead.
Hawk understood much of what was going on. “This is not for the faint of heart.”
Joe agreed. “I can see why surgeons never operate on their own family or friends. It’s tough to watch, knowing the risks of a mistake.”
“Have you finished transferring his mind?”
“Yes. The first stage went like clockwork. Now the tough part.”
“Remove the human body?”
“Yes. The body of Frank Grayer will die within ten to twelve hours, unless revived.”
“We have no plans to revive him, do we?”
“None. We have to make up our minds where we want his mind to reside.”
“Yes, in his old body, the body of Kor.”
“Now here’s the really tough part. Kor’s body needs more time to accept the new mind.”
“There’s an overlap?” Hawk said. He hadn’t counted on this. He felt a sudden chill as he realized what Joe meant.
“Yes. There’s a period of time after Dad’s human body dies, before we know if Kor’s body will accept the transition. It m
ight not recognize the mind as that of Kor. It might not accept the reintroduction of data. There are many things that could go wrong.”
“If the transition is rejected, there’s no going back. Frank Grayer’s body will have died.”
“Look at him, Hawk. Dad’s dying anyway. The equipment indicated that he was hours away from physical death in that body.”
“The stall can’t repair him?”
“No, the poisons he’s been given for so long have reduced his vital organ tissue to mush.”
“So this is the only chance we have to save him.”
“His options have run out.”
“What’s the next aspect of the transition?”
“Their Beings must realign with the new body: Kor’s body. There’s no way to monitor this. Frank Grayer’s Being may just take off somewhere, or Kor’s might reject the transition.”
“It’s still a bit confusing to me.”
“Me, too. But the way I understand it is that Kor cannot have two minds and one Being. At least that’s what I’m led to believe. There is a high risk of madness. The minds will act like a car with two wheels off. It’ll go around and around in circles.”
“I thought that the two minds had sort of melded into one.”
Joe shrugged. “That’s what Dad told us. We’ll see, won’t we?”
Hours later, Joe checked the monitor. “The chamber has drained. Help me remove the body.”
It was a creepy affair to store Grayer’s immobilized body in another room. It was cold. It felt like a corpse. Hawk and Joe could barely look at it.
Joe talked to the ship, and instantly a Bot appeared with the body of Kor suspended from its tentacles. It looked like a translucent white slug as it quivered in the Bot’s arms. The Bot gently deposited the body in the chamber, and the doors flicked shut.
“That Bot certainly knows what it’s doing,” Hawk said as the creature disappeared around a corner. Joe seemed to take all this for granted. Hawk thought it was practically miraculous.
“Now the tricky part.” Joe touched a light bar and then closed the panel. “Come on back to the bridge.”
They watched as the gangly body of Kor hung like a white octopus within the green suspension liquid of the chamber. The orb had triggered the transition program and the changeover was underway. The machinery subroutines whirled into action as the biomechanical chemicals coursed through the chamber gel initiating brain functions one by one.
Joe eased back into a command chair. “Now we wait.”
Hawk could only manage a weak smile as he looked at the alien creature on the screen.
“It’s been a week,” Joe observed glumly.
Hawk had just returned with more takeout food. Wrappings were everywhere. The once-bare spaceship bridge was cluttered with takeout wrappings and pop cans. It had the appearance of a frat house before final exams. He handed Joe a veggie burger.
Joe ignored the food. He was watching the monitor. “Hawk, I don’t like this. Dad should have recovered by now.”
“Don’t freak out on me, Joe. You said yourself there was no set time for this procedure.”
“I know. It depends on the health of the body and the complexity of the transition. But look at the file Signature curve of Kor on the screen. Now watch as I overlay the new Signature from the transitioned mind.”
“They’re a little different.”
“Exactly. The Signature appears subtly changed for Kor after he joined with Frank Grayer. The original mind Signature is not aligning perfectly. It’s slightly reconfigured.”
“And?”
“And I’m worried. The program may not recognize Kor as ‘Kor’ any more.”
“Because his Signature is altered.”
“Yes. The delicate protective mechanism is disallowing the transition because of the mismatch.”
“And that’s why it’s taking so long? Can you override it?”
“Already done. I’ve instructed the mechanism to accept the modified Signature.”
“Good. So I get back to my original question: Why is it taking so long?”
“The re-transitioning program is searching for viruses. Since the match isn’t exact, the system is suspicious and cautious. It checks for errors to protect the cryogenic body from deliberate sabotage.”
“What does it do if it finds them?”
“It deletes them, reconfigures, and then makes a decision to proceed or not.”
“Is it going to delete Frank Grayer and all his memories?”
“It shouldn’t. I’ve told it to accept the modified version of Kor’s Signature. It will delete only characteristics in conflict with the mind of Kor as it was before the original transition. Things that could debilitate him.”
“What takes so long? These Bio-Computers are insanely fast.”
“The decision tree is challenged. The combinations are tremendous. That creates heat within the brain tissue. The brain’s temperature must not exceed 110 degrees Fahrenheit. Neurological damage could occur. It takes time for the delicate tissue to cool down between downloads.”
Hawk looked at the monitor as he had been doing for the past week. The strange white floating alien was his father. It would be tough getting used to it.
In the interim, Frank Grayer’s body had died. If this didn’t work, Kor would be dead. Their father would perish for the second time. They would be on their own on a planet that was about to turn against them.
CHAPTER66
The queen, for all her experience and age, had never stepped foot on the soil of a foreign planet.
As calm, cool, and collected as she liked to appear to the outside world, she could not disguise her thrill at landing on Earth. Her first steps onto the solid ground of the bountiful planet brought a rare smile to her lips. Her ancient throat crackled with laughter, and her phlegmcoated lungs rumbled with delight.
The queen looked about her. The light blue sky was scattered with clouds. White and black birds darted after fish in the river nearby. A soft humid breeze danced over the waves of the Potomac River. The yellowwhite sun embedded in the blue sky appeared tiny compared to that of home. This planet was a peaceful oasis. This would be her realm. After the hell that was Sargon, this place was like a dream.
She glided along the paved concrete dock adjacent to Bolling AFB after watching her craft, on autopilot, sink into fifty murky feet of brackish water. She was indifferent. The ship was perfectly safe there and not likely to be detected. She would summon it when she needed it. That might be never, she thought.
Stell had watched her land the sleek starfighter minutes before.
“You’ll get used to the smell,” Stell said, as he held the rear passenger door open for her. “The vehicle runs on an internal combustion engine. It’s piston driven. There are multiple fuel-induced explosions that cause pistons to rotate gears, which in turn move the vehicle forward.”
“My God, does the whole planet smell like this? It’s beautiful, but it smells.”
He laughed. “This is fresh air. Wait until we get downtown. Then you’ll get to smell unwashed humans and their food preparation centers, too. They’re primarily carnivorous. It takes some getting used to.”
Unused to the humidity, she hacked up some phlegm, and spat it out. She graciously slid into the back seat, holding her dark bluish-purple hood against her nose.
Stell shut the door with a laugh. “My mother, the last of the great explorers.”
He looked back over his shoulder as he settled into the driver’s seat. “Welcome to the past. Here we are face to face with our ancestral history. We can learn from them.”
“I doubt it!” the queen sniffed, and looked out of the cloudy glass window.
He pointed the Chevrolet down Highway 495 toward downtown Washington.
“Where are my subjects located?”
Stell bristled at her audacity but did not let on. “We’ve turned only seven key people so far in Washington’s political circles. The other two hundred fifty hav
e infiltrated a broad spectrum of the resident American people.”
“I see,” she said. She did not see. They were taking too long to infiltrate the locals, she thought. “I assume you have some kind of command quarters set up?” she continued.
“I’m taking you there now.”
“Do you wish to freshen up after your journey?” he asked, looking into the rear view mirror. “Sorry. Silly question.”
“Don’t talk like an idiot, Stell. Have you gone native on me?”
“A journey from the moon is a big deal to these humans. And don’t call me Stell in front of anyone, OK?”
She grunted a response that Stell could not hear.
After battling traffic delays, the vehicle ground to a stop in front of a ten-storey brownstone building. Ignoring honking traffic, Stell jumped out and opened the door for the queen.
He held out his hand to help her. She gave the offending appendage a solid slap and glided out of the back of the vehicle onto the sidewalk, defying the laws of gravity.
Minutes later, the pair entered H’s office. H walked heavily into the room, holding a pile of papers.
“Sorry to keep you waiting. We have a shitload of problems to look …” His voice faded into confused nothingness.
“H, let me introduce the Queen of the House of Abishot.”
Not another alien! H thought. He stumbled over to her. “My, uh, pleasure, your, uh, Majesty.”
She looked critically at him. He was a sickly man, tired, run-down, and overworked – a physical mess. His once strong body was now flabby. His color was ashen, and his hair was wispy, thin, and gray. But she sensed a mind residing within the wasted frame, a mind that was used to wielding power. He was a kindred spirit perhaps. He could be useful in the future.
The queen’s bony white hand slithered out from the folds of her cape. H winced as he took it. In the few seconds that the queen had his hand in hers, she was able to extract a huge amount of personal information about him. H felt the odd sensation of having a sharp sinus attack. She withdrew her hand and it was over.
