Dark Alignment

by David Haskell

  The flooded-out re-entry pod long since submerged, a tiny life raft had kept the astronauts afloat all this time, safe if not comfortable. As they dipped and bobbed, the first of the recovery ships came on scene and made ready to pluck the astronauts out of the sea. Inside the raft, the crew peered out, pointed to the ships in the distance, all smiles in the glow of profound relief. Worse for the wear, particularly the spacewalkers, but alive and accounted for. All but two.

  A single military chopper hovered overhead, camera crew recording the event for posterity, while support planes circled the area and kept any civilian helicopters, news crews included, safely at bay. Although the mission was a success and the war was over, there was still concern about how to handle the matter of the missing heroes.

  The crew was to be brought straight to the mountain, outside the watchful gaze of the world for a time, for debriefing and rest. Cheyanne was once again the political and militaristic center of the world. It was a safe place for the heroes to convalesce, and mourn. The president, in the meantime, would figure out how best to break the news to the world.

  * * *

  The decision to hold a press conference at the base of the opened mountain, conquering heroes and their commander in chief side-by-side, sent a clear message to the world. The crisis was over. It was time to pay tribute, and respects. Time to close down the mountain, move operations back to the capital where they belonged, so the president could retake his rightful place in the public spotlight. Time to move on.

  Crew members and their families occupied prime space behind the president, with personnel from the mountain filling out the frame. Zera Zellweiger from Jo’s agency stood just out of camera shot, although Jo was allowed to stand with her shipmates. There was no concealing her from the world any longer. Short of extreme plastic surgery, her days as a spy were over, though her prospects had widened enough that she wasn’t overly bothered by it.

  President Webster spent a long time with his honored guests, stopping to speak for a minute or two with everyone on the stage. Enjoying the heady relief of the moment, he had no intention of rushing. The public would watch the entire event unfold without complaint. It was the happiest programming they’d been able to enjoy in months.

  When he’d finally worked his way through the ranks, he gave several waves of recognition to military folks in the front rows of the assembled guests. Many of these fine individuals had served him in one capacity or another since his move into the mountain. While he would be leaving, most would remain, although its days as a command center might be numbered due to historical significance. The facility had played such a role in this most dire hour, it seemed inevitable that it would soon become a museum.

  Finally reaching the podium, President Webster was afforded the respect of several minutes worth of sustained, enthusiastic applause. Nothing over-the-top, very few hoots and hollers from the well-heeled and dignified crowd. Just a warm outpouring of thanks to the man who’d guided the people safely through hell, and home again. He smiled and graciously acknowledged the others behind him, indicating that they deserved the accolades more than he. His magnanimous gesture served to increase the applause, and a few cheers then rang out. Placing both hands on the podium, President Webster indicated he was ready to speak, eliciting a quick, rapt attention from the crowd. He cleared his throat, and smiled out to his sea of supporters.

  “Let’s begin this occasion of thankful gratitude by remembering the countless souls we’ve lost,” he began, lowering his head, “with a minute of silence.” He closed his eyes. For the next minute, a dropped pin would’ve echoed off the mountain itself. Only the soft sounds of nature and weeping were audible, both of which added poignancy to the moment.

  When the full minute was past, the president looked up again, an unwiped tear falling from his resolute face. “With mournful gratitude, we commit our brothers and sisters to the ages, with the promise that no soul alive today will ever forget their sacrifice.”

  * * *

  Following the presidential address, a vigil was held to mark the loss of two heroes among millions. Throughout the day and well into the night, people came together in communities far and wide, though the most attention was drawn to the image of hope people had found in New Joffrey. Lining streets side by side, with neighbors from nearby towns and travelers from all corners, reverent and reflective. Speeches were made, most from the steps of the temporary town hall, where the largest group of mourners had gathered in the open grass. While no equipment was set up, their voices managed to carry over the crowds, due to the largely silent nature of the gathering. Everyone gave the speakers their full attention and appreciation, even when the former Mayor of Joffrey stood to say a few words. Resentments lingered, but none were voiced, and he was allowed to speak, and his words were met with a measure of forgiveness.

  One notable absentee was Chief John Masters himself, who’d elected to remain with the Cheyanne contingent. For him, New Joffrey simply hurt too much. He couldn’t go there yet.

  Police were present, but only as participants. The crowds were utterly peaceful. Vendors offered free water and snacks, and trade-gouging was non-existent, despite the ease of opportunity. A sense of unity that comes with disaster survival permeated the gathered—whatever happened next, they could face it if they stood together.

  As to their favorite son, Joseph Mansfield’s final resting place was up there, with the solution, providing vigilant protection over his world, as unapproachable as it was appropriate. It seemed pointless to attempt a second monument in the town, so they chose instead to devote the town itself to his memory. In each home, on each public building, in shops and service stations, community centers and memorial museums, his name would be etched into cornerstones, entryways, hearths and rooftops.

  * * *

  The day of thanks drew to a close. In many parts of the world the celebration had been short-lived, though most of humanity participated in one way or another. There was much to be done; devastated places in need of aid and emergency repair, mounting collateral casualties even as the primary threat faded to memory. Most had little time for gratitude, much as they might feel it in their hearts. The world had swung back into simpler times overnight, simpler but harsher. A long way from where they’d been one year before, and ages until true recovery would be possible.

  The wars took a back seat to relief efforts in all but a few pockets of conflict—old hatreds mostly, and some still-seething resentments. The world wouldn’t remain peaceful for long, but for the moment few had the taste for blood. So much had already been compromised. The general amnesty initiated at the height of the catastrophe remained in force, and most nations abided by it. The winds of change were stilled for a time. Some small measure of peace was finally at hand.

  Afterward

  Post-Anomaly

  The graduate student was surprised to find their most famous professor still at work well after midnight. He mumbled an apology, offering to come back later, but the scientist invited him in.

  “It’s no problem,” Doctor Eckert said, “I was just finishing up anyway.”

  The student stepped inside, careful of his footing so as not to knock anything over. From the looks of things, Eckert had been busy, rocks and samples strewn about in various configurations. Some arranged by simple size, others categorized by element or carbon date. Scrawled sticky notes identified some, along with added notations or formulae. Piles of smaller materials were accompanied by leafs ripped from notebooks, with markings all over indicating which of these were of further interest.

  “Don’t worry about the mess,” said the doctor, measuring a strikingly smooth, bowling-ball sized rock, “I’ll clean up before class in the morning.”

  “What’re you after?” the student asked. “I mean, if you don’t mind my asking. I’d have figured you’d rather be at the Smithsonian. With all the major anomaly samples there for comparison.”

  Dean Eckert looked up at the student with a mixed expression that
might be seen as as amused distaste. Then he shook his head. “No, those are someone else’s problem now. I’m done with all that.”

  The student looked around the room. “But I thought…I mean, isn’t that what you’re doing here?”

  “This?” Dean looked around, as if just noticing what sort of samples he was wading through. “Oh, it’s just a hobby really. Looking for something different, I suppose.”

  “Doesn’t seem likely, lightening striking twice in the same place,” the student said. “You think you’ll find another key stone in this lot? Is that why you came back?”

  Eckert smiled. “No, I didn’t come back for that. Not really. I suppose I came back looking for a simpler time, but that’s not such an easy find.”

  “Yeah,” the student agreed. Even in remote Alaska, the scars of anomaly surrounded them, reminding them every day of what humanity had been through. There was no escaping that fact, no matter how far you travelled. Eckert knew that as well as any.

  “Anyway,” Dean Eckert said, “I just like to sift through this stuff now and again. You know this place used to be called the—”

  “…Cosmic Dustbin?” the student volunteered.

  Eckert snapped his fingers and gave a nod.

  “Not much of a dustbin anymore though,” Eckert added.

  Which was quite true. The facility itself had gained notoriety over the years, and the institution had grown markedly on the back of Dean’s research and contributions. And although the student was probably right about lightening not striking twice, hundreds of up-and-coming astrophysicists and quantum engineers had taken to study and research up in the great white north, all in the footsteps of their most famous protégé.

  As for Dean Eckert, he kept a light schedule, mostly focusing on the mathematical abstracts, teaching an occasional course on gravimetric theory and trans-dimensional effects.

  He stayed away from direct study of the anomaly, and future effects predicated on the stability of the solution. It held steady for now, showing no signs of breakdown, and that was enough to keep government officials off his back. He granted interviews now and again, but for the most part he was content to let the next generation deal with that headache as well. He preferred to busy himself with theoretical pursuits, quiet and secure amid the rocks in his dustbin.

  letter from the author

  Hello Reader!

  Thank you so much for buying my book! I hope you loved Dark Alignment. I really enjoyed writing it, and as my first foray into science fiction it was really exciting, and very much brand new territory for me. Being a big fan of ‘classic’ scifi like Arthur C. Clarke and Issac Asimov, I’ve always wanted to try my hand, as I’ve admired those guys since I was very young and loved pouring through the works they created. The Rama Series, and Asimov’s short stories were greatly inspirational in particular, and I’m sure you saw some hints of those influences in Dark Alignment.

  As an indie author, I rely on folks who are willing to give me a chance. And if you made it this far, I wonder if you could do me a couple of favors. For an indie, it’s essential to keep my books visible, so that others like yourself can find my stories and maybe give me a shot. And in order to get that sort of visibility, the best thing is for readers to pen short, honest reviews. No need to write a book LOL, but just a line or two, letting folks know what you thought and whether you’d recommend this book to others. Here’s the Amazon page for Dark Alignment:

  Dark Alignment Amazon Page

  As far as keeping up with my work, that’s where the second favor comes in. It’d be great if you could sign up for my readers club. As a member, you’ll be the first to hear about my new releases, deals, promotions, pretty much everything I’m up to in my writing career. In order to support me in that way, please check out this link:

  David Haskell’s Readers Club

  It just takes a minute to sign up, doesn’t cost a thing, and you can cancel anytime you like. And just to up the ante and give you a real incentive, there’s a free book there for you to have, just for signing up!

  Thanks so much for your support, and I hope to run into you out there, either on the internet where I’m always available at author@haskellbooks.com (drop me a line anytime, I always write back!) – or out there in the real world at a book signing or some other event. Take care, and I’ll see you at the next book launch!

  about the author

  David Haskell lives near Tokyo, Japan with his wife and their thirteen year old daughter, and has been living in and around Tokyo for the past twenty years. Prior to that he spent some time traveling back and forth to Japan drumming at Tokyo Disneyland and DisneySea on trashcans and other assorted ridiculous instrumentation, as well as some similar gigs back in Florida at DisneyWorld and Universal Studios. He attended the University of Massachusetts where he studied percussion under two great mentors, Dr. Peter Tanner and Professor Thom Hannum. Around that time he also lived for a year in Concord, CA while performing with the world famous Blue Devils drum corps. In California he studied under the guidance of legendary percussion guru Tom Float, who incidentally created the trash can trio gig at Disneyland that spawned the groups David was a member of in Japan.

  David was born and raised in the Boston area, but left home in his late teens because it was way too cold. He does travel back home as often as he can, though he prefers to plan those trips for the summer months.

  Dark Alignment is David Haskell’s third novel. His debut novel, Too Much Information, was published in the sumer of 2013, and The Gold Club followed in 2015. He is currently working on two novels, at least one of which is slated to be published later this year. For updates on all his latest books and projects, you can visit his official website:

  http://haskellbooks.com

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