The Temporal Key

by Adam Benson

  Inside Colonel Turner sat at his desk with his jacket off and his sleeves rolled up. He was pouring through some paperwork and jotting some notes down.

  “Captain Saulf, reporting as requested.” Naomi said as she stood at attention and saluted him in his door.

  “At ease, Captain. Come on in, have a seat.”

  “Thank you, sir,” she said as she sat down opposite of the Colonel. He continued rifling through paperwork, almost ignoring her. “Sir, May I ask what the urgency is?” She asked after a moment.

  “Yes, Captain.” Colonel Turner said almost absent mindedly. “Sorry, I’m getting some really interesting stuff on the wire.” He tapped his stack of papers to straighten them up and then set them aside and gave Naomi his full attention. “I need you for a special assignment.”

  “May I ask the nature of the assignment, sir?” She asked eagerly.

  “Autopsy.” He said matter-of-factly. “Well, a little bit of an autopsy, and a little bit of a dissection. It’s a pilot from a crash. That’s all I’m going to say now. This will be very need to know and need to know only.”

  “A dissection, sir?” She asked hesitantly. She had never heard of anyone performing a dissection on a crashed pilot before. It was all very unorthodox.

  “Captain.” Colonel Turner said. “I wouldn’t have given you this if I didn’t think you were the right person for the job. Trust me, you want this assignment.”

  “Yes sir.” She said with a little confusion in her voice.

  “Your plane leaves at oh four thirty. Go home, get packed, and get some sleep. I need you tip top shape tomorrow morning.”

  “Plane, sir?”

  “Yes.” He said. “Oh four thirty you’re flying to the Army Airfield in Roswell. That’ll be all for now Captain. You’re dismissed.”

  Without another word, P.F.C. Fillmore leaned back into the room. “Ma’am. This way please.”

  Feeling groggy and excited, Naomi boarded the plane at 4:15am the following morning and landed an hour later at the Army Air Field at Roswell. The sun was barely crawling over the horizon when she was once again rushed from the airfield by Jeep to a small, unimpressive building at the back of the base. Another Private escorted her inside and asked her to wait at the front desk while he went and retrieved the next person to rush her along. She didn’t have to wait long.

  A tall thin man with a happy disposition immediately came out from the back corridor and approached her. “Captain Saulf?” He asked.

  “Yes sir.” She replied.

  “Then that would make you the biology expert. Major Marcel,” he said extending his hand. “Welcome to 509th Intel.”

  Naomi smiled a smile that betrayed how lost she was feeling in all of this.

  “This way.” Jesse said as he turned to lead her down a long corridor. They passed several offices and then turned down another hallway that continued toward the back of the building. “Were you briefed on the assignment yet?” He asked her.

  “I was told I was going to be assisting on a dissection autopsy of a crashed pilot, but not much else.” She said following him down the hall. “No one will say much more than that.”

  Jesse smiled big. “That’s pretty much it.” He said.

  “Sir, what’s so special that you would call me in from Alamogordo?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” He said. He quickly turned into his own office and grabbed an envelope off his desk and then turned back around and headed back out the door. “This way,” he said leading her back the way they came.

  Naomi followed him, still feeling very confused. They walked back down the hall and then out the front door. The morning sun was just high on the horizon now as they followed a small path that went into the back door of a large hangar. He escorted her passed the guards and into the dimly lit hangar. All around she could see military trucks clearly loaded with some sort of wreckage. The glimpses she got of it were completely foreign to her, but most of the debris was still covered in tarps or concealed within box trucks. Off to the side, along the far wall glowed the brightest spot in the building. It was a tent of sorts, put together with hospital curtains and a large military canopy, and then filled with an array of bright lights. She could see a stainless-steel table in the middle of the tent as they approached, surrounded by some lab equipment, and a couple of workbenches.

  "This is it." Jesse said as they passed through the tent's canvas door. It looked like a field hospital and laboratory, but with white hospital curtains draped around inside. "This is our field lab where you'll be conducting the autopsy. Nurse LaRue is bringing in the subject in a few minutes."

  "Sir, could I ask why we're doing this in an airplane hangar, instead of the hospital?" Naomi asked a little confused.

  "Captain, you're about to see why." Jesse said with a big smile on his face. “I don’t need to remind you that this is strictly classified.”

  “No sir, of course.” She replied.

  When the body was rolled into the surgical tent it was still wrapped in its alien body bag. It was small, about the size of a child. Seeing the small size of the body almost made her heart skip a beat. Her first intuition was that this was a child, and she couldn't fathom why the Army would want to dissect a child no matter what the circumstances.

  Then the bag was opened. An unearthly blast of death wafted into her nostrils, and then she saw it. The body before her was no child. It wasn't even human. The full scope of what she was about to be part of hit her like a ton of bricks. The meeting the night before and the briefing she got when she landed hadn't prepared her for what she was staring at now.

  "Captain Saulf? Are you going to be alright?" Jesse Marcel asked her when the bag was opened by one of the two remaining technicians assisting her with the prep work. She stood there staring wide eyed at the other-worldly man laying dead before her. The look on her face was one of fascination and horror.

  "Oh.... Yes...." She replied. "I'll be fine. I just wasn't expecting.... this." Her heart was pounding in her chest as she looked into the dead eyes of the alien pilot.

  "All of this is eventually going up to Alamogordo, but as you can tell from the amount of decay already taking place... we wanted to get this body examined now before it gets any worse." He said.

  "Where did it come from?" She asked, her eyes still locked on the dead face peeking out of the body bag.

  "Crash landed about thirty miles south east of Corona a few days ago." Jesse said.

  "A few days?" Naomi said. "Why did you wait so long to examine it?"

  "We only found out about it a yesterday. We got it back here last night." Jesse said. "The rancher who found it, didn't know what he was looking at and let it all sit there for a while before he contacted us."

  "When are we getting started?" She asked confidently.

  "We're waiting on our chief surgeon now. He should be here any minute. Nurse LaRue is here to assist you and Doctor Moorhead. He’ll be in charge of the operation, but we need your biological expertise to really tell us what we’re looking at," Jesse said. "Look. I know the smell is pretty bad. We have some mentholatum if you need it."

  "Sure." She said. "I think that might be good. Could I get a glass of water?"

  The sun was well in the sky when Doctor Harvey Moorhead arrived at the intelligence building at the back of the base. He had received a call late the night before from General Ramey who informed him that he was being temporarily reassigned to Army Intelligence. Doctor Moorhead was himself a Major in the Army and was the chief medic on the base. He had been stationed at Roswell since before the war ended and had been there almost four years. In all that time, he had never even seen the Intelligence building tucked behind the furthest hangar back on the base. Now he was standing in the front office waiting for someone named Major Marcel who was to escort him back to see the General about some temporary reassignment that required a surgeon in intelligence. None of it made any sense to him, and he partly assumed that he had been called there by mistak
e.

  Doctor Moorhead was a tall thin man with graying hair. He had issues with patience and had no appreciation for being reassigned. He had been waiting in the front office for ten minutes and had already barked his distaste for being made to wait to the poor Private who sat at the front desk. The Private had profusely apologized, but Major Dr. Moorhead wasn't listening. From his short-tempered perspective, all he was hearing was excuses for the waste of his time. Thinking himself a much bigger man than he was he had already decided to tell the General that he wouldn't be accepting reassignment and then march himself back to the hospital to tend to his normal duties. Of course, deep inside he knew he really didn't have that kind of power, but he figured that with enough of a vociferous protest he would easily get his way.

  Drumming his fingers loudly on the arm of the chair he was sitting in, with his legs crossed and a look of angered frustration growing redder on his face, Major Moorhead finally lost his temper with the young Private.

  "Alright, damnit. I don't care what he's doing. Go back there now and drag this Major Marcel up here. I don't give a damn if you have to drag him by his scruff. I'm not waiting any longer." Major Moorhead barked.

  "Sir." The Private said with fear in his voice. "As I said before, I am not permitted to leave this area unless I'm relieved by either General Ramey, or Major Marcel. I'm sure he'll be here in just a..."

  "Listen boy." Said Major Moorhead as he stood up from his seat and suddenly loomed over the Private's desk. "I told you to go get him, and that's an order. Do you understand that? Go and get Major Marcel now, or I'll have you..."

  "Hello!" Said Major Marcel cheerfully as he opened the door and walked into the office. "Sorry it took so long."

  "It's about damned time." Major Moorhead said. "You Marcel?"

  "I'm Major Marcel." Jesse said suddenly recognizing the tension in the front office. His cheerful disposition morphed into a smiling dislike of the pompous buffoon standing in front of him. "Come on. Let's go see the General."

  They left the office and started walking down the long corridor to where General Ramey was waiting. "What's this about Major?" Major Moorhead asked impatiently. "I've got a hospital to run, and I'd like to get this over with quickly and get back to it."

  "You won't need to worry about the hospital for a few days." Jesse said smugly.

  "We'll see about that. Ramey knows better than to pull me off duty for..."

  "General Ramey” Said Jesse, turning in his tracks, "brought you in here for a reason. A very specific reason. And I'm telling you right now, Major, you're not getting out of this one."

  Major Moorhead huffed loudly. The two continued walking down the hallway. Jesse could tell that Major Moorhead was a career military man who didn't like the military. He was obviously holding a grudge against the Army for not being a hospital, and for not putting him in unquestioned control of it. Jesse had been around these kinds of men before. They were almost common in the upper echelons of the military.

  "So, what the hell does Army intelligence want with me?" Harvey Moorhead asked.

  "You good with autopsies?" Major Marcel asked with a smile.

  Major Moorhead stopped in his tracks. "Autopsies!? Goddamnit, you had better be kidding me, Major." It was almost like steam was escaping from every pore in his face. "If Ramey's pulled me in here for...."

  "General Ramey,” Jesse corrected.

  "...a goddamned autopsy, there's going to be hell to pay. I've got two men under my command whose only job is to do goddamned autopsies. And I'll be damned if I'm going to doing some half ass autopsy...."

  "Majors!" Came General Ramey's booming voice as he stepped out in the hall before them. They looked up to see Ramey glaring at them with his own brand of impatience. Jesse quickly snapped a salute. Harvey Moorhead barely tried to hide the look of disgust on his face and then gave the General his own half-assed salute. Ramey gave them both a dismissive salute of his own. "Get in here."

  General Ramey's intelligence office wasn't his primary office on the base. It was a much smaller more utilitarian office than the one he usually worked from. It was still the nicest office in the building, but it was modest compared to most of the other offices on the base. It had a large metal desk with a phone and a name plate, but little else on it. There were a couple of chairs and a bulletin board with all the pertinent details he needed while he was in the intelligence building.

  Before the two Majors made it into the room, Major Moorhead started in on his tirade. "Alright General, what's this about pulling me in here to do a goddamned autopsy? You know I run the hospital, right? If you need an autopsy done, I've got men just for that, and frankly it's a complete waste of my time to..."

  "Shut up, Harvey." General Ramey interrupted. "You're a goddamned pain in my ass." He burned holes through Harvey's head with his eyes. "I brought you in here because I need you to do a damned autopsy. And if I say you're doing a goddamned autopsy, then you're doing a goddamned autopsy. And if you ever come into my office with this kind of attitude again, I'll bust you down to a candy-stripper. Is that clear?"

  Major Moorhead shut his mouth and tried hard not to roll his eyes. It was one pompous buffoon butting heads with another pompous buffoon, but the General held rank and Harvey knew he wasn't holding any cards. "Yes sir." The words finally slipped out of his lips like a bad lie. He hated the military.

  "Now." The General started again. He walked around behind his desk and sat down. "What you're about to see is top secret. And the reason you're here is because you've got clearance."

  "What kind of autopsy would need that kind of clearance?" Major Moorhead asked.

  "Don't interrupt, Major." The General said gruffly. "Everything from here on out is on a need to know basis. You'll be told what you need to know, when you need to know it, and then you'll do your job accordingly. You're not here to ask questions. At least not to me. The only questions you'll be asking are scientific questions. When you're done here, you're going to forget everything that you saw, and if you ever want to work in a hospital on this planet again, then the only thing you'd better say now is 'yes sir'. Is that clear Major?"

  Major Moorhead looked angry and confused, frustrated and weak. None of this made any sense to him, but he suddenly realized that he didn't have any choice in the matter. "Yes sir." He said.

  "Major Marcel. Is everything ready?" The General asked.

  "I believe so, sir." Jesse replied.

  "That's fine. Get prepped." General Ramey said to Major Moorhead.

  "Sir?" Harvey Moorhead said. "What the hell is going on?"

  Inside the makeshift surgical tent, the tools were prepped and laid out, ready for use. There was a portable washing station and extra scrubs and gloves set off to the side. Coolers and containers of all kinds were lined up on adjoining tables. There were Petri dishes, flasks and beakers washed and ready to go. And there on the operating table was the star of the show; a small grey skinned man with an enlarged cranium, almond shaped eyes and a diminished jaw. It wasn't human, and it wasn't a primate.

  Doctor Moorhead stood in between General Ramey and Major Marcel staring at the being laying dead on the table. His jaw had dropped to its extents and suddenly the last thing on Harvey Moorhead's mind was the hospital. He stood there speechless. He was unable to move. Nothing had prepared him for the shock.

  "This is your subject." General Ramey said coolly.

  Harvey turned to the General and tried to speak, but nothing came out.

  Jesse smiled excitedly. "We're calling him Orson".

  Harvey Moorhead turned his head to Jesse and gave him a horrified half-grin. He still couldn't get words to come out of his mouth. He was completely stunned. It was as though he felt like if he turned around now and left the room he could go back to his narrow view of the world and none of this would have ever happened. But it was too late. He was here now, face to face with something that he never even imagined.

  "Well, Major?" General Ramey said.

  "Uh, um..
." Moorhead muttered.

  "What else do you need, Major?" The General asked.

  Harvey kept trying to speak but words kept failing him. "Um... Sir... I... I don't know what.... What the hell is it?"

  "A Martian! A space man!" Jesse said excitedly.

  "Major Marcel!" General Ramey scolded.

  "Sorry sir." Jesse said.

  "A... a... a space man?" Said Harvey. "A man from outer space? Like.... like... in Buck Rogers?"

  "Major, we need to know everything we can about this alien. And the sooner the better. He's already been dead for the better part of a week, and while he's been fairly well preserved, it isn't going to last forever." General Ramey said.

  "Sir, I wouldn't even know where to begin!" Harvey said, almost pleading.

  "Major, from what we can tell he's a lot like us. Cut him open and tell us what you find. And be thorough." General Ramey said coldly.

  "I'm... I...." Said Harvey.

  "What?" General Ramey asked.

  "I'm going to need an assistant." His eyebrows were curled up tighter than they had ever been over his face. "I can't possible do all this alone."

  "You won't be alone." The General said. "We've got you two assistants ready and waiting. One is a biologist from Alamogordo."

  "We have First Lieutenant Angele LaRue and Captain Naomi Saulf ready to come in when you're ready to start. They've both been briefed and were present when we set up the lab here. They're both top notch." Jesse said reassuringly.

  "I... I know First Lieutenant LaRue." Harvey sputtered out. "Who's....Who's the other one?"

  "Captain Saulf. She's our specialist from Alamogordo." General Ramey said. "She flew in this morning."

  "Al... alright then..." Harvey said. "When do you... when do you want me to do this?"

  "Now."

  Almost There

  “The sun is coming up,” Thalia said as their stolen truck came to the top of a rolling hill on the road to Roswell.