Shadows

by Brian Whiting

  Jorge watched without concern for theft or selfishness on the part of those helping to unload. He turned and walked into a closed room where a man and a woman sat together on a couch drinking water.

  “Ahhh, Saint Jorge, I heard those bells and knew you had arrived.” The well-dressed man stood and shook Jorge’s hand. The woman then approached and kissed both of Jorge’s cheeks. Mr. and Mrs. Mayor-of-the-Town.

  “Surely you have better things to do than look out for our stubborn town,” she said, watching his face for a clue to his mood.

  With a blank expression, he asked, “How are things since I last stopped by?”

  “Eh, word has gotten out that you are helping us. I know that they are planning a raid too.” He stepped back to the couch and waited for Jorge to sit before he did.

  “Do you know when?” Jorge sat in a large chair.

  “No, but I suspect within the next day or two, now that we got a new shipment.”

  “I have other shipments to make, but I can check in on you guys between shipments,” Jorge said quietly.

  “Whatever you can do is appreciated,” she said with a warm smile.

  “How much ore you got for me this time around?” Jorge sat forward on his seat.

  “You have a healthy amount of workers, we lay new tracks for the trolleys, and production is up. I doubt you will fit the ore waiting for you in your container.”

  “Excellent, perhaps I set up a little refining rig to maximize efficiency on site. Remember, I don’t want anyone working more than twenty-five hours a week. I mean it, I don’t care if they volunteer, put some of that extra work shoring up your defenses and building up your village.”

  “I remember your parents being just as kind, I am glad to know they have taught you well. They should be proud of you,” she said resting kindly next to her husband.

  “Do not worry, Jorge, we treat our people as if they were our own family.”

  “That’s what I want to hear. I’d better be going. I have a lot to do.”

  Jorge stood up and walked out of the room. He walked through the door and said, “Time to pack up.” Another of the small youths ran out the door toward the bell. It rang three times before Jorge made it to his container. He maneuvered the craft to the ore and waited for the locals to dump basketful after basketful of rocks into the container.

  He waited about an hour and then took off, the container nearly full. The locals smiled and waved as he spirited off into the air, and as he watched each of them grabbed weekly rations for their families.

  ***

  Rommie stood on the ridge and watched the container disappear behind the dense trees as it lifted off into the air. He had a very short haircut and wore filthy camouflage fatigues, his ammo belt across his chest. The village lay below him, and thirty of his armed men stood behind him waiting for orders.

  “We go, take the food and kill anyone who tries to stop us,” he said, turning to those behind him. They began to disperse alone the tree line. Rommie kept looking into the sky; those mysterious UEF ships were silent and struck fear into his mind. But his stomach was more powerful, and he moved forward with his men.

  His men were mostly young, with a few kids sprinkled among them. They were not the best-trained group of men he had commanded. They were supposed to wait at the edge of the tree line, but before he was able to get into position gunfire broke out.

  Some of his younger men managed to stumble across one of the very few patrol guards the village maintained.

  The village bell began to strike over and over again amid the gunfire. Villagers began running around, finding various spots to hide.

  Rommie began to run; he had to hurry before his targets got away. A minute later and sweating profusely, he reached the overwatch building with three other of his men and kicked open the door. His men ran inside grabbing a few people by their hair and pushing them against the nearest wall.

  “Obey me, and no one dies,” Rommie shouted above the screams and whimpers.

  The mayor stepped outside of his room and stood alone among Rommie’s men.

  “Mr. Mayor, where is your lovely wife? I do not see her,” Rommie said.

  “She is out foraging.”

  “Hmm, perhaps…. Or perhaps you are lying to me, Mr. Mayor.” He looked to his nearest man and nodded toward the closed room.

  The young man entered. Rommie watched the mayor’s face, which he could tell held fear, but he still had enough pride to try and hide it, which made Rommie smile.

  Odd noises came from the other room. A moment later the young man came out and said, “No one is there.”

  “Hmm, OK, let’s go.” Rommie turned and began to walk out of the building while his men pointed their AK-47 assault rifles at the mayor, motioning for him to follow Rommie.

  Rommie led the group to the center of the village where the supplies had been taken. Some of the local women were screaming or crying; a few of the villagers had been killed. Nearly the whole town was down on their knees, with their hands on top their heads.

  Rommie raised his voice. “Mr. Mayor, please direct your people to gather this food and bring it to my place.”

  “Where is your place?” the mayor responded.

  “It’s about five miles that way.” He pointed toward an unspecified location in the woods.

  “Can we work out some kind of deal?”

  “You want to deal? Yes, I suppose as a mayor you are used to making deals.” Rommie walked toward the nearest man, kneeling with his hands on his head, and pulled the trigger, killing him.

  The crowd began to scream and cry.

  “Shut up!” Rommie’s face showed an uncontrollable rage. His eyes got very big. “Now, Mr. Mayor, you were talking to me about some kind of deal.”

  “My mistake, I’ll get my people to carry your supplies.”

  “Very good, that is very good, Mr. Mayor,” he emphasized.

  Thud.

  Rommie looked to his right where he thought he heard a noise. But didn’t see anything.

  Thud.

  Rommie looked left and saw one of his men on the ground lying on his back, his face frozen in shock.

  “What is wrong with you? Get up!” Rommie shouted.

  In his peripheral vision he noticed another of his men on the ground. He walked over to the nearest man and looked at his face. There was a well-defined hole directly between the eyes that went through the entire head at a downward angle.

  Rommie quickly looked up into the sky. The last thing he saw was the container floating about eighty feet directly above him and then a red light of some kind.

  ***

  Major Grissom raised his badge at the automated gate control, and the large heavily fortified gate opened for him.

  “I remember when it didn’t even have a gate,” Jackie said as she kept close to Cindy.

  Grissom looked back at her. “Don’t make me regret allowing you to come with us.”

  “Well, well, Major,” Cindy said with slightly shocked sarcasm. “I do believe the council as a whole allowed the media to follow up on this discovery. I was shocked to learn that they knew before me.” She said the last part while looking at Jackie. “It’s not like you guys to keep information from going public.”

  “Alex asked, as a favor, to keep it quiet for a while. He said we didn’t understand what it was and could be dangerous. Smart man, I still believe that’s true,” Grissom said without turning around.

  “No, I doubt you would come yourself if you thought it was a real threat,” Gloria commented.

  Grissom turned slowly and gave her an incredulous look.

  “You know because I know command officers are smart and don’t needlessly put people in harms way.” Gloria said quickly as she felt he took it the wrong way. Grissom looked ahead and otherwise didn’t react.

  The council of three approached the undisclosed “science station” as the large gate closed behind them. They walked the short distance until they reached a series of tents. Non
e of the tunnel walls were visible, or the tents for that matter. They had all been covered up with various symbols and large sheets of paper.

  “What are these?” Jackie asked, looking at the hanging papers covered in odd symbols.

  No one said anything as they slowly approached the open areas of the science station. Several tables, computers, and plenty of shelves filled the area. Large soft lights lined the higher walls; no longer were their lights on poles as Jackie had remembered, and no generators were to be seen.

  “Ah, Major, I thought I heard you all coming,” Timmy said as he approached the group.

  Both Cindy and Gloria reached out and hugged Timmy. It was good to see him.

  Grissom reached out and shook his hand as did Jackie.

  “So the—” Grissom started.

  “The council would like an update on your progress,” Gloria said, cutting Grissom off. They looked at each other, and she shrugged. He rolled his eyes.

  “Yes, umm, well, progress is slow but steady.”

  “Do you know what it is yet?” Grissom asked bluntly.

  “Uhh, no,” Timmy said with a sheepish expression. “But let me show you what we do know.”

  Timmy led them to the large open clearing. The tunnel had been slowly dug out to expose the orb and much of the area around it. It still rested on a clear pedestal, but now the nearest wall was ten feet away. Four cameras surrounded the orb to constantly capture video. Two comfortable chairs stood near the orb as well.

  Timmy walked to the first part of the large rounded circular wall and started at the beginning. It showed a picture of the partially exposed orb and the broken drill bits at its feet.

  “This is how I saw it when I was notified of its existence,” Timmy said proudly. “It’s completely impervious.”

  “You know when a scientist tells me that somethings impervious, I’ve learned to immediately think they are a liar and terrible at what they do.” Grissom said as he circled the orb.

  “Ah yes, well. One, I am not a scientist, and if you had let me continue, you’ll see here at this next picture is the hydraulic press that buckled under the pressure. Nothing we have done to it has made any physical effect.” Timmy eyed the orb and frowned slightly.

  Grissom didn’t look effected by the comment.

  Taking a few steps, Timmy stopped at another picture. A singular dot. Timmy opened his mouth to speak but was cut off by Pete’s voice.

  “It only responds to Timmy, and we don’t know why,” Pete said from behind everyone, startling most of them.

  “What do you mean, it only responds to Timmy?” Cindy stepped closer to Pete.

  “I mean it doesn’t allow me, or any of the few special workers down here that extended the cavern, the ability to interface with it except for Timmy, and I’m telling you we don’t know why.”

  Cindy looked to Timmy who shrugged.

  “Anyway, it taught us their numbers from one to a thousand, then ever-increasing numbers by a factor of ten all the way to septillion.” He took a few more steps, passing pictures of the modifications to the science center. “Then I began reading the dictionary to the orb.” Several pictures of symbols filled the walls after that.

  “So we have a translation now?” Cindy stepped closer to Timmy.

  He inhaled sharply, “Sadly no, we only have translated about twenty-eight percent of the glyphs. See, it doesn’t translate some things like Walmart, McDonalds, beaver, or tiger, but it does translate humans, Theans, Zorn, Earth, Mars, and the like. It doesn’t make much sense at this point.”

  “Well, twenty-eight percent… You guys should be smart enough to fill in the gaps on the rest.” Grissom nodded confidently.

  “No, that’s just…no. Sir, if I said to your assistant that I am coming over tomorrow after work to meet with your boss so that I can ‘blank,’ him, and that I just wanted you to know, I’d say you know most of that translation. Ninety-five percent, maybe, yet you don’t know the most important thing. Am I coming to visit him, pay him, kill him? Now, imagine trying to understand when you only get on average one out of four words.”

  “Your point is taken well, Timmy,” Grissom stated flatly.

  “What else have you tried?” Gloria asked.

  “What do you mean?” Timmy asked.

  “I mean, you claim the orb responds to you only. Other than touch it, what have you tried doing?”

  Timmy looked around the room at those assembled around him, his mouth slightly agape as he racked his brain. “What else could I do to an object?”

  Gloria shook her head, clearly disappointed. “Timmy, you’ve told us that the glyphs follow your eyes, and the orb listens to your words and teaches you language. Did it ever occur to you that the orb was sentient?”

  Timmy shot a glance at the orb, his eyebrows furrowed, and returned his glance to Gloria.

  “Well, I suppose at first I treated it like a display screen activated by my movements, then I treated it like a computer to siphon information from. I haven’t considered the orb to be alive.”

  “Well, if you have translated a fourth of the glyphs, I’d say you have more things to try than simply speaking to it. Try signing, crying, talking to it like a person. I don’t know.”

  It was Gloria’s turn to receive the odd glances.

  “Look, at any rate you have made some progress, but I want to confirm that it responds only to you. I’m going to send some guys over to see if any of them get a reaction.” Grissom pulled out his datapad and began scrolling through a list of names and sending a selected few messages. When he finished, he looked back up to Timmy. “Keep working at it, we’ll be in touch.” And just like that, Grissom began to walk away and out of the tunnel. The rest of the council lingered for a few more moments but eventually caught up to him, leaving Pete and Timmy alone in the room with the orb.

  “You didn’t tell them everything,” Pete mumbled.

  “We don’t have all the information. Anyway, what does it matter?”

  Timmy reached out and touched the orb. It didn’t respond in any way.

  “Mars, rocks, trees,” Timmy said out loud. The orb didn’t offer any glyphs as it once did.

  “Why do you think it stopped responding to you?” Pete looked at Timmy with concern.

  “It still does it just seems to do it in intervals or at designated times or something. It’s not the first time this had happened; twice while you slept it did this. I just took a break or went to sleep myself, and when I woke it was responsive again.”

  “Hmm, sleep… I should get some it’s been a while for me.” Timmy looked at his watch, which read two p.m.

  “We really ought to try and get back to a normal rhythm.” Pete turned to walk back to the computer. Timmy followed. They nearly made it to the closest desk when a loud noise like a forceful thud that reverberated off the walls came from behind them. They both stopped in their tracks and timidly turned around.

  The orb was no longer resting on the clear pedestal, which was now knocked over. It was floating three feet off the ground and moving toward them.

  Chapter 11

  Bio - Hacked

  Pain wasn’t just a feeling, it was his existence. As he regained consciousness, it became more familiar to him. Alex began to panic and tried to lift his head, but like the rest of his body, he was strapped down tightly. Unable to move his head, he glanced to his right, where he saw that a bright blue liquid was being fed into his femoral artery through a cluster of alien IV lines.

  Tears ran down his face; he tried to scream, but something was in his throat. His vocal cords couldn’t move.

  “It’s awake!” Alex’s datapad translated as the Gothans spoke among themselves. Obviously, the datapad was in the room, but Alex had no idea where he or his pad were.

  “It’s far too early, he’s not ready, put him down.”

  Alex tried to squirm, but he couldn’t move, not even a millimeter with any limb in any direction.

  Something covered his eyes. He sudd
enly became aware of his fear of death. He tried to see, but there was nothing but blackness, and Alex lost consciousness.

  The next thing he knew, he bolted out of sleep as if coming out of a nightmare. Bed coverings went every which way as he sat straight up.

  “Hey, it’s OK, you’re fine.”

  Alex spun to his left. Jeremiah was sitting on some kind of plush object, leaning forward while holding a glass of water for him to drink.

  Alex drank the contents in one quick motion. Then he looked at Jeremiah, who seemed to be waiting for something.

  “So we’re OK?” Alex said. But his voice was different, deeper and more rugged.

  “Well…yes and no. Fact is, you died. By the time I got down to ground level to check your injuries, you had lost nearly all your blood. I placed tourniquets on your legs and tried to do CPR, but there just wasn’t even blood left in your body, and you died. How do you feel?”

  Something occurred to Alex. It sounded funny even to himself, but it felt like his brain was faster. It was almost like he could concentrate deeply on multiple topics at the same time. No hint of pain anywhere in his body, and he was able to recall vividly the moment he was on the alien table strapped down.

  “What did they do to me?”

  Jeremiah ran his hand through his hair and leaned back. “Man, I don’t know. You were dead, they asked if they could save you. I said yes, of course, then they took your body. I didn’t see you for a week until they put you in here. Doc Gothan came in here and explained to me what they had to do to you but I don’t understand much of any of it.”

  Alex rubbed his hands together. All of his life he had bitten his nails down. It was a bad habit for sure, but he accepted it. Now they irritated him as they occasionally did and he needed to smooth them down. However, the moment he put nail to tooth he noticed something wrong. His nail was not giving, it was hard as stone. He tried with even more effort until his teeth began to hurt.

  “What’s wrong?” Jeremiah asked as he watched Alex struggle.

  Alex stopped and slowly dropped his hands into his lap. “What did they do to me?”