Stellar fusion, p.2
Stellar Fusion, page 2
part #1 of Infinite Spark Series
A technical specialist in her earlier years, she had developed a device to turn electrical impulses of thoughts in the mind, and degrees of pupil dilation, into computer generated actions. It had proven useful in basic format for Home Station and on her own pod—a trial run.
Shifting in her seat, she pulled the five-point harness together and latched it. Atana commanded with her mind, Pod One power up, minimum visibility—engage, low electrical priority—engage.
The manual controls lit the interior of the cabin pale blue, to the sides and above her. The propulsion systems hummed, the engines warming.
“Tango Sierra One One, Dispatch,” Miranda called in on the pod’s radio.
“Go ahead.” Atana scanned the gauges, confirming acceptable levels for fuel, pressures for hydraulic systems, and cell response for cloaking abilities.
“I loaded a map of all reported locations of the unfamiliar vessels and included a course that should help you navigate between them.”
“Copy.” The pod lifted up off the supports, hovering over the concrete. “Dispatch, Tango Sierra One One requesting gates open: Pod One departing Sand Base Eight.”
“Gates opening, airspace clear. Pod One, you are free to fly,” Miranda responded. “Good luck.”
“Roger, Pod One and Tango Sierra One One out.”
The wall parted in the middle, and Atana blasted out of the bay, down the two kilometer underground chasm, gradually lifting up to the elevation of the desert sands. In a cloud, the pod exploded out of the zip chute, zooming along the earth, sending small tufts of dust and sand swirling in helixes behind an invisible vessel.
The minimum-visibility setting, called ‘chameleon skins’ by the field sergeants, made the shepherds’ aircraft move like the wind, leaving only their effects visible to the untrained eye. Atana swerved between the dunes, scanning the horizon for ships, while monitoring her relation to the location of each pillar registered on the dash screen.
The graceful curves of the razorbacks painted with gold from the setting sun behind her, the shadows expanding between. It was the closest to what she could have called a sense of peace, and it was, once again, threatened by the unexpected and unknown.
For her and many other shepherds, they would have to travel for several hours to reach Home Station. The ocean plains opened up before her. Minimum visibility—disengage.
The surface sparkled with the reflecting navigation lights of her vessel overhead. She gazed down, through the clear panels at her feet, to the dark fluid, in a way she knew the other shepherds couldn’t. For a single moment, the stillness permeated her internal blockade, the one she used to keep the voices, and the human urges to feel, silent.
Her wristband flashed twice. She looked down.
Restoration Necessary
Pulling up to auto-pilot level above the sea, she engaged the automatic flight control system. The hum of the pod’s propulsion units softened, the engines cruising into a smoother rhythm. Slumping back in the seat, she stared up through the roof at the stars and sighed.
The crashing waves of cerulean and white beneath reminded her of Lavrion’s eyes. Strong emotions flowed through his body. She was trained to see it in the shape of his face and his posture. But she could feel it radiating from his pink-white cheeks and hear the rapid thumping from inside his chest.
She wondered what happened to him, to the woman, and the girl.
They’re not dead, are they?
The wind whispered through the airfoils of her pod. She could’ve sworn it said no.
Her pupils constricted at the landscape. She’d tried to run from the voice, block it out, anything to make it stop.
“Still don’t know about you. Are you crazy?” Atana checked her gauges, placidly interrogating herself. Or is that your subconscious? The voice of someone I have killed, maybe. What are you? The nightmare of his sapphire eyes loomed in the back of her mind. “Is that who you belong to?”
Within the silence that faithfully followed her string of questions, the ones she asked herself so often they’d lost their significance, she knew lay the answer to what she really wanted to know.
Who was I before the crash, and why am I the only one left breathing?
Closing her eyes, she thought of the boy from her recurring nightmares, sprawled out on the chilled examination slab next to hers, his lungs gasping for air. The muted skin draping over his sack of bones had shone like morning dew beneath the spotlight. He’d fought harder than the others, jerking and writhing, his marrow the victim of the merciless surgeons’ needles.
“Niema nigh, niema!” he’d screamed, his throat hoarse from the pain. Please, stop. Please. Somehow she’d understood.
When the cadaverous creatures sauntered off, the room lurched, the boy knocked to the floor between their slabs. It was the tear rolling down his cheek that compelled her. Grabbing two fistfuls of the cables connected to her spine and the machine overhead, with an exhausted huff, she freed herself to kneel at his side. Holding her fingers near his mouth, she felt a faint warmth roll over her skin. Alive.
“Niema, tuess evus!” Please, get up! she urged.
He tried to wipe the blood from a puncture on one of his emaciated arms, only causing it to smear. A groaning whimper rattled his chest. “Hu’te mocohas il amah yan Veriia?” What purpose is in this life?
Taking the cleanest corner of her crusted shirt, she dried his tears. The stunning, brilliant blue that looked up at her made her body tremble, her fingers pause, and her heart beat a little faster. His cheeks flushed.
A barb jutted out below his collarbone, spurting blood across her front. Her body seized in terror. He was slung onto his table, a pig in the hands of the butcher. She reared back, crying out, straining to reach him. Pain exploded in her temple, and the room shattered.
An emergency collision signal from the navigational system beeped loud in her ear. Atana jolted from her broken memories. A pillar towered before her in the night, rigid despite the tepid, crashing waters. Like eidolon to the shadows, it was barely visible amongst the amassed vapors.
Slamming her pod into a high bank turn, she whipped around the side of the vessel.
Minimum visibility—engage. The chameleon skins cloaked her pod in the dull navy and grays of the ocean mist. What had seemed like a smooth surface from afar now appeared cragged in black, spear-like projections and pentagonal panels. When she’d passed at a safe distance, she kicked up the power, sending her pod vanishing into the brume.
Lighthouse
Chapter 3
A FLICKERING LIGHT, the homing beacon of an uncharted island in the South Pacific, stood poised, the pinnacle atop the world’s aegis—the station concealed below the cresting liquid surface. The nine-level, seventy-square kilometer base housed the central command post for the descendant of the outgrown Shepherds United: the Universal Protectors.
“Home Station, Tango Sierra One One.” Sergeant Atana’s irises twitched, scanning for navigation lights and tracking the other pods popping up on her screen. Sharing the sky on low electrical priority could get dicey with the chameleon skins online, especially in the cover of night.
“Go ahead,” a modulated feminine voice replied.
Atana navigated the pod in a loop above the island. “Tango Sierra One One and Pod One requesting permission to dock.”
“Permission granted. Proceed to dock station one-niner.”
“Roger. Tango Sierra One One and Pod One proceeding to dock station one-niner.”
The east side of the mountain opened. Pulling the manual controls toward her, Atana adeptly slowed the pod, gliding inside the narrow aperture. The propulsion stabilizers fired in small bursts, allowing fine-tuned positioning inside the terminal.
Cold, metal braces clamped around the pod, securing it. When the side hatch unlocked, the internal hydraulics lifting her door, she could hear the tink of cooling metal. An automated voice echoed from the deck, “Please vacate the pod. You have five minutes to reach the safe zone.”
She unclipped her harness and tugged the headset off, slinging it over the back of the seat. Grabbing her bag, she hopped out.
The cool, moist ocean air greeted her lungs. She glanced out across the water to the shimmering white tips of the waves thundering into the cliffs. Drawing in, she let out a deep sigh, heavy as the weight of a planet on her shoulders, silently wishing to be anyone else.
Placing a hand on the control panel to the left of the elevator, the wall retracted, pocketing itself to the right. She stepped inside and turned to watch her pod hatch seal up. The conveyor system engaged, taking her pod to the repository. The elevator door closed.
The voice spoke again. “Fifteen seconds to submersion.”
Atana’s stomach lifted into her lungs.
The door opened fifty meters below to the staging area, packed with people rushing out from other terminals, reading the screens lining the hallway. She scanned her surroundings out of habitual instinct. Her wristband let out a faint beep.
Personal Transport in Location: C5-J26
Heading down the main hallway to a screen on the corner, Atana spoke to it. “Technical Specialist One One requesting access to UP Hub two three dash nine.”
A digital voice responded, “Access granted. Welcome, Sergeant Nakio Atana.”
The screen opened to a host of options: food services, maps, supplies, and lodging. The computer system utilized a retinal scanner to acquire pupil dilation by the micrometer. When the shepherd found her desirable item, her pupil expanded slightly, causing a blue bracket to appear around the option on the screen. A double blink confirmed Atana’s selection: Room 389.
Another beep from her wrist:
Assembly 2-CA, 0900 hrs
The time logged in the center of the top of her screen:
0814
Walking around the corner and down the stairs to Level Three, she assessed the people around her. Tracking the hasty movement of a female, she acknowledged shepherd Yari’s attentiveness to her position.
“Sergeant Atana!” the young voice called to her. “Have you seen Johna? I can’t find him anywhere.”
“I have not.” Despite her straight face, Atana could see her concern in the abnormally lengthy pause between her blinks, even for a girl who zoned out often. Yari was a new recruit, an R1, Assistant shepherd, not yet having acquired the rank of an R2: Sergeant status. Recognizing this, Atana stopped to face the girl. “Johna is experienced. He will be here when he can. Until then, check in with Ceilia.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Yari left in search of her instructor’s field guard.
Shepherds, like all members of the Universal Protectors’ community, were assigned partners, with few exceptions, like Sergeant Atana. She had proven too obstinate to work with other shepherds. No one would take the position, and those who had tried had given up or died. She had been on her own for most of her time in service and was accustomed to it.
An alert caught Atana’s attention. Her wristband flashed teal against a navy background.
Meeting 1-CR, post Assembly, per Command
Reaching her room, Atana grasped the handle. The scanner built into the doorframe registered the arriving guest’s wristband code, unlocking the latch. Pushing the door open, she tossed her bag on the crisp, pale khaki bed with its tightly folded corners and set her SI weapons in the storage slot. Each short-stay room was sixty square feet in size, enough space for a bunk and an all-in-one bathroom stall.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she buried her face in her hands. She’d only been five when it had happened, not old enough to understand but defiant enough to survive the collection, testing, and the Earth rescue. The shepherds who had saved her had called the invaders Specters of the Sky.
Please, for once, let me be wrong.
The Mission
Chapter 4
0900 HOURS.
His hands molded confident and strong to the railing of the mezzanine outside Command’s conference room, like they had thousands of times. The Coordinator, who presented Command’s collective decisions, scanned the shepherds gathering in the open level below: 2-CA, the unfurnished central auditorium. The storm shields were up, concealing the inky ocean, the harsh LED light flooding the monochrome uniforms before him. Only a handful of earth tones dotted the mass—the Independents and Team Leaders.
“We appreciate everyone getting here as quickly as possible. Updates will be posted under the Current Conflicts feed. This is now our primary focus.” Stout and resonant, his words carried throughout the room and into the surrounding halls. The Coordinator paused a moment, listening to a few murmurs from the crowd. “Some of you might remember events from prior decades. These actions and collection vessels are alien and familiar. We have designated recon teams to research the vessels on Earth and the one above us. We want to know what we are up against before we alert the invaders to our limited capabilities.”
They already know, Atana thought from her place on the floor with the other shepherds.
“There are approximately 130 vessels protruding from our planet. Thousands of our people have already been taken. The ones which appear to be targeted are those who are emotionally charged. We know this increases heart rate and activity within the central nervous system, which increases the overall electrical output of the individual. The current theory is these people are easier to lock on to, leading us to our reason for requesting minimum visibility and low electrical priority with pod use.
“The main ship is currently on the sun-side of the planet and appears to be adjusting its orbit to remain in this location. With this being the case, from 1030 to 1500 hours, we will be on lock down each day, while we pass the threat in our sky. No transport traffic or surface walks. Wait for the command before engaging in tactical maneuvers. Find and protect the people of Earth and stay below the surface.
“Check the codes on your wristbands for your assignments. Send in reports immediately if you acquire any useful information. Make certain,” he paused for emphasis, “your serum is properly functioning. We don’t need to lose any more of our people. Good luck.”
The Coordinator waited a few moments for the crowd to disperse before returning to the conference room, the door closing quietly behind him.
Chapter 5
NO ONE KNEW their names. A twenty-member team, Command was responsible for reaching a universal, altruistic verdict on any operations involving the UP community and the planet under their protection. They worked together, a single unit, a unified, guiding body.
Their ash robes hung stiff from their motionless figures. Every stony, insensate face turned toward the doors.
Atana stepped inside, straight-laced and rigid. She knew what they would request of her. The mother ship was her objective.
Has to be. No one else is qualified.
The Coordinator stood from his seat at the far end to greet her.
“Thank you, Sergeant Atana, for contributing to this meeting.” His stentorian voice carried across the long, glass table from his equally tall and intimidating frame. “You will lead a team on this next mission but work in conjunction with their leader. They are the best recon and extraction team UP has to offer. They come from the opposite side of the globe as you, Ocean Base thirty-three and thirty-four. They were involved in a serum mix-up. We have been assured their compliance with serum standards upon their arrival.” He took his seat.
“Yes, Command.” Atana was accustomed to the unknown and unpredictable, making her the perfect option for many of the missions for which UP lacked significant background knowledge. She knew she’d survive and be successful, if she maintained control, which was never in question. But a team?
She detected the changing density behind her, a depressurization. The door opened. Someone was on her six. Executing a prompt about-face, she met a pair of glistening, hazel eyes.
The Coordinator introduced them. “Sergeant Nakio Atana, meet Sergeant Jameson Bennett.”
His callused hand politely extended out of habit. His deep and saccharine voice replied after a hard swallow. “It’s nice to officially meet you, ma’am.”
Intimidated. But, she liked that name: Jameson. It had a curious ring to it. Do I know him from somewhere? Tingling electricity tickled her brain. “And you as well, sir.”
Another member interrupted. “We are depending on you all to get us critical information on how we can take down our orbiting enemy.”
“Yes, Command,” Bennett and Atana responded in sync, abruptly releasing the handshake.
She wondered if this shepherd would be able to stick it out with her, eyeing his chestnut, leather jacket from the side. Maybe.
“Until we get a report from you or the invaders change up their game plan, we’re going to lay low. We’re hoping they will just take what they need and leave. You both know we don’t possess the volume of forces necessary to take out a fleet of this magnitude. We need to know what we are up against so our attack may be swift and effective.”
“Yes, Command,” the sergeants responded.
Another member warned, “We do not expect you to return from this mission. However, we will hope and plan for it, adhering to the five-day limit, of course.”
They always said that to her. I’ll come back. Always find a way.
“Yes, Command.”
Sergeant Bennett
Chapter 6
BURNING OUT.
Sergeant Bennett thought about it, quitting right then and there. The thought of never coming back wasn’t ideal, and life-sucking space wasn’t even crawl-out capable. But, living a caged life wasn’t preferred either. Lingering over her, the stars exploded like fireworks in the darkened corners of his being.
