The Early Years To Boldly Go, Ch 16-20 By C.L. Nelson

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Mitchell was not pleased. For many years, the alien problem had been considered solved. now, it seems as though that was a mistake. He scratched his beard as the report continued. He occasionally scribbled some notes on the pad he'd been given, but he was mostly able to keep track of all the details in his head. And what details they were. An alien intruder, a planetary attack on the other side of the planet, a missing gun and the report continued.

"As of right now, sir, we believe that the PDMS man in silo 28 is dead. The alarm went out through the network, and the system is searching for any stellar activity." the briefer concluded.

Mitchell held his head in his hands, "Is that all?"

"Yes, sir"

"What about the damage to silo 28?"

"Sir, it would appear to be damaged beyond repair. This weaponry has never been employed by the visitorsbefore. We have to assume that they've got new weapons."

Forty billion people, and I can't protect them from this new attack, he thought. It had been a long time since this was a threat. Until recently, the Planetary Defense Council had been a shadow of its former self. There was no need to maintain it, people thought since the vistiors had been gone for fifty years. Now, they had begun passing bills in the government to dismantle it. Fortunately, they hadn't gone into effect. Still, the damage was done. Now, we have to fight back. Somehow.

"Sir?" the briefer nervously asked, "Will that be all?"

The General nodded, and the briefer left the room. He looked at his staff gathered around the table. Their faces wore the same concern as his did.

He heard a muttering at the end of the table.

"What was that?" he asked.

"Fourscythe," replied the voice.

Mitchell turned a knob on the panel at the table to find the man belonging to the voice.

"It's our only chance." said the voice.

The voice belonged to a Colonel Vig, in charge of strategic weaponry.

"No."

"If you don't, sir, millions may die!"

Fourscythe was an ugly project brought about by uglier men, bent on the total annihilation of the visitors. This weapon was borne only out of fear, and he thought no good could come from it.

"We still have the prototype. It wouldn't take much to get it operational."

"What if the thing turns on us?"

"There's no chance of that happening."

"That's what happened the first time, wasn't it?"

***

Szylnick stared out at the planet, which occupied most of the viewscreen. It was frustrating staying out of sight, but the first duty was to keep the ship out of danger, and that's what he was doing. In half an hour, he could reestablish contact with the captain. now, it was a waiting game.

"Sir, I just picked up the idents of a bunch of Romulan spacecraft, headed in this direction," Schmidt reported.

"How far out?"

"They're about two hundred kilometers right now. They'll be here in approximately two hours at their current velocity."

"Unless they rig for stellar. Then they'll pick up speed in a heartbeat, " He punched the intercom button, "Control, I need all available fighters on deck immediately. We have a battle situation in progress. All pilots on alert, pass it down."

"Aye, sir" acknowledged the Senior Controller.

"I want a patrol over the planet surface launched immediately, too."

"Sir, suggest a long range scan deployment would be in order," said Schmidt.

"Way ahead of you, Mr. Schmidt."

***

For the fourth time ever, Tad saw the blip. This time, there were four. He hurriedly carried out his duty, notifying the PDMS units.

***

Lasker was pulling double duty this shift because of his knowledge of the situation. He and his wingman cleared the ship and started the descent to the surface. The number of ships increased from two to four, allowing for double protection. So far, there wasn't any thing unusual. He looked around, then check the instruments again.

"Scout Leader, this is scout one, I have a visual of a flare, bearing 170 degrees."

"No contact, yet"

"Tally, I got it moving in this direction!"

"Scout three, take it out. Two and four, deploy the array."

The remaining fighters descended upon the missile, firing repeatedly.

"Go for the engines," Lasker ordered.

They got up behind the rocket and began firing again. The Turbulence created from the engine was too much to fight. They broke off and continued the attack from the side.

***

"Sir, why can't we take the missile out from here?" Schmidt asked.

"That'll alert the Romulans to our position. We're going to dive for cover behind this planet's moon."

***

The steady firing at the missile ruptured one of the fuel tanks. It exploded, turning the rocket sideways. The fighters pulled away from it as it sped off course. The rocket continued downward, back to the planet.

"Isn't there anything you can do?" screamed the launch captain.

"It's not responding to any of the signal, not even the self destruct instruction!" the technician shouted back.

They watched in horror as the path of the rocket was recalculated and displayed on the wall. It would hit a major city in ten minutes.

"Sergeant, you have to do something!"

"Sir, the back up controls aren't responding either."

The missile continued its descent.

"My cousin lives in Felton..." the sergeant trailed off.

Impact was displayed as a red circle, which grew to about the

same size as the cityscape which was also displayed.

***

"Jesus! Look at that," Lieutenant Greene commented as the missile hit the ground.

"That could've been the Exeter" replied Lasker.

The mushroom cloud could still be seen as they reached the outer atmosphere, climbing back to the Exeter.

***

Szylnick jumped out of his chair when the flash showed up on the screen.

"Control! What happened to the patrol?"

***

April and Giraud had been wandering the streets for hours. They took refuge in a hotel lobby. There was a box in the corner of the lounge which displayed video pictures. Giraud remembered them as being television sets. One of the programs stopped short, to be replaced by a stern faced man reading from a paper.

"We interrupt this program to bring you the following special bulletin. For the first time in years, an alien spacecraft has been brought down by the Planetary Defense Missile System. The spacecraft crashed into the city of Felton, destroying much of the city..." said the reporter.

"Captain!" Giraud tugged on April's arm, "The ship's gone down!"

"Huh?"

"They just said so on this box," she said pointing to the television.

The screen now showed a picture of an entire city on fire. At the center of the blast, all the buildings were flattened. It was hard to determine exactly what happened due to the poor picture quality of the screen. A battleship could make a mark like that, April thought to himself.
 

***

April and Giraud walked silently down the main street. They were stranded now. The ship lay in ruins on the surface, their only way home was gone. They knew there was a risk, but at least in April's case, he thought it would be death during a battle.

"I suppose we'll need to get some currency if we're to survive here," Giraud remarked.

"We can use the tricorder to get money from one of these many cash disbursement machines around the city."

"We'll need a place to sleep tonight."

The sun was just beginning to set on the horizon. The air was getting colder.

***

"They're about an hour out, now. It's definitely an armada. Must be thirty ships in all." reported Schmidt.

"There's no way in hell we can take on thirty Romulans," Szylnick replied.

"We can run away."

"Then we wind up leaving the Captain. If we do that, there's no telling whether the Romulans will attack the planet anyway. A subspace message will take forever to get to headquarters. We're on our own now."

***

"Now you have no choice, General. You must use Fourscythe!" the President thundered over the phone, "It's my decision, now. Do it!"

He slammed the phone in the general's ear. Mitchell sat alone in the darkness of his bedroom from which he'd been aroused. He picked up the phone and dialed.

"Launch Fourscythe, as soon as its ready."

He hung up the phone. The darkness of his bedroom seemed to swallow him up as he thought about the consequences of using an untested weapon system in a real-world environment. Fourscythe was, for all practical purposes, a berserker. It had the ability to anticipate what the aggressor was going to do next. It's logic was based on being able to interpret rudimentary signals from an aggressor's control and firing signals. Since most of the advanced weaponry possessed some amount of computer processor, fourscythe could interpret those commands and begin executing countermeasures. It was a fearsome weapon. It would continue to attack unless it was destroyed. One of the problems associated with its use was that, to fourscythe, there was no difference between friend or foe. Everything was a target. It was designed during the last alien war, but never used. The mere possession of it seemed to be enough to dissuade the visitors from attacking. Its battleworthiness was never really proven, since the war ended before it could be used in combat. Now it resided in a hangar in the middle of an abandoned airfield. The only way to access it was by airplane, and that access could be controlled very easily. He felt a knot in his stomach as he dialed the number, giving orders that would set the activation process in motion.

***

Sokar faced outward, looking across the hallway at Jarvis in his cell. A small smile came across his face as he looked up at the ceiling.

***

The bridge was alive with activity. Battle stations had been sounded, and people were fervently concentrating on their instrument panels. He had to assume that the Captain was dead, and get the ship out of danger.

"Status report, Mr. Schmidt!" called Szylnick, taking his seat.

"Sir, we just tracked at least five Romulan warbirds closing on the fourth planet."

"Must be an advance team," commented Szylnick, "On screen."

The screen showed the fourth planet, but still really small. There were three ships visible, in attack formation.

"That's an attack pattern, sir," Schmidt observed.

"I see that."

Szylnick weighed his options carefully, trying to sort out what was the right course of action. This space was considered earth territory, so the only recourse was clear. He drew a heavy breath before giving his order, knowing that he could be restarting the Romulan war.

"Set in a course for the fourth planet, warp speed. Engage when ready," he ordered.

***

A smile, or a grin, faint as it was, came across Sokar's face. It was time, the empire had listened, and retaliation was now at hand. He began to concentrate, his heartbeat becoming irregular. His breath began to increase. The beams hit him, trying to break his concentration as they had done earlier. He used the stimulus of the energy beams to enhance his concentration. He fell to the floor.

Jarvis watched from his cell. He's seen something fall out of the corner of his eye. The Romulan was definitely up to something, he thought. For a long time, the Romulan didn't move. Jarvis thought he might've committed some sort of ritual suicide.

Two Etherians entered the Romulan's cell. The stooped over him, examining his body. All at once, the Romulan grabbed the two aliens by the neck and slammed their heads together. He searched the bodies for anything he could use. He remembered them touching a device, just before disappearing. He found a device on one of the alien bodies. He pulled it off and fiddled with the buttons. He turned towards Jarvis and made an obscene gesture as he disappeared from the cell.

***

The romulan warbirds broke off their attack, joining up, one ship after another. They jointly orbited the planet, doing nothing.

"Romulans have broken off their attack," Schmidt reported.

"That's unusual," Szylnick commented.

"Let's see if we get anything from them. Mr. Rodgers, hail the lead vessel."

***

The bus ride to Horizon seemed an eternity as Fairfield watched the flat desert terrain pass by his window. If he hadn't known any better, he would've swore that this was somewhere in the middle of Arizona on earth. However, his experiences in the past few hours had told him otherwise. Worse yet, the fireball which hit the ground had to be the Exeter. Nothing else could hit with that kind of power. The pillars of smoke from the fireball had died down, but were still present. They were in the same direction as the city he was headed for. Something about this place had all the earmarks of an off-world colony. Even the currency was frighteningly similar to earth's. However, there were no off-world colonies outside of the solar system. Only a few outposts and starbases. The sign on the roadside signaled the end of the journey. Now entering the city of Horizon, it said. Then, he saw a symbol which was familiar, yet he couldn't remember where he'd seen it before. It was a simple design, a ring around a planet and a star, shining just off to the right, slightly above the ringed planet. He should be able to identify this, but the memory wasn't there. The city had taken over the landscape and the bus was now moving towards the depot. Again, the similarities were everywhere. But where was he?

***

Giraud paced nervously around their rented hotel room, desperately trying to come up with a solution.

"I don't think that was the Exeter," April said.

"What else would be big enough to make a fireball like that?"

"Lots of things, I suppose. How about a fuel tank?"

She just looked at him, disbelieving. He got out his communicator, prying it open and fiddle with the knobs. The screeching sound of stellar interference was all that could be heard on the channel. He turned the tuner really far to the right. A signal, pulsing and changing tone continuously sounded through the speaker. Steadily rising in pitch, then falling again.

"Must be a navigational signal for the air traffic," suspected Giraud.

"No, that's something else. It's a ship's distress signal, but it's the old code. That's why its on that frequency. It's an old style radio signal, but broadcast on a higher frequency in order to hit any wandering ships."

"What would that be doing here?"

"I don't know."

"Are you sure its not just some spillover carrier signal from a local broadcast?"

"Possibly, but look at the way this thing modulates. Its dead on, no deviation, like it was meant for this channel."

"Considering that this civilization is currently in the beginning part of its technological development, I can't believe that this is anything more than a coincidence."

"I'm picking up directional information on the locator, look."

The display at the bottom of the communicator was a locator. This enabled a landing party to see where another team member was when they called in. The numbers didn't deviate. 220-312-012, the polar coordinates for a three-dimensional frame of reference.

"That would still be a chance reading, possibly generated by a radio or television broadcast."

"I'll bet that maps to a location close to here on the map."
 

A Romulan warbird had found the Exeter. Sokar was now the armada leader. The old-time adversaries were preparing for another confrontation.

"So, you're saying that the planet is now under your control?" Questioned Szylnick, slightly annoyed at the arrogance of the Romulans.

"That is correct, captain. The Romulans now hold this world," proclaimed Sokar.

"Are you aware that this planetary system is located in earth space, in accordance with the neutral zone agreement?"

"The treaty is not fully explicit on those points."

"The treaty says Romulans stay on the other side of the neutral zone."

"We don't see these terms as being valid, and you don't have the capability to enforce them. There is no point in continuing this discussion."

The next sound was silence.

"They've broken the signal," Rodgers explained.

The warbirds broke their formation and encircled the Exeter.

"Firing solution!" Szylnick commanded.

"Plotted in, weapons locked," Schmidt responded.

"Lasers on line, stand by."

***

The Romulan started the volley, firing at the Exeter. The pulse drifted toward them.

"Repulsors on!" shouted Szylnick, getting caught up in the moment.

"Tracking...locked on."

The repulsor met the energy pulse head on, pushing it off course, and out into space.

"Fire at will!"

Exeter fired the lasers at the first ship, which deflected the beams. A volley of weapons crossed paths.

"Repulsors!"

"On target..negative! Ten degrees off!"

"Brace for impact!"

"Impact in five...four.. three..two..one"

Everyone held onto something, waiting for the terrific smack they were about to receive. The pulse penetrated the ship head on. The bridge crew waited for the jolt, but it never came. The room filled with white luminescence. It covered everything, the energy being almost of a liquid character. Then it was gone.

"A dud?" asked Schmidt.

Szylnick just shrugged, "Fire weapons as soon as they're charged."

The ship's missiles sped straight for the lead Romulan.

"We've got a good track, right on course," Schmidt reported.

He just looked up from his viewer, shaking his head, "I don't believe this. There must be something wrong with the scanner. It says they just passed through them."

Nobody noticed the intruder on the bridge, "I assure you, your scanners are working normally. That is exactly what did happen."

Everyone turned to look at the stranger, a gray, humanoid form with a large head and elongated body.

"Who the hell are you?" Szylnick asked.

"That is not important. As you will now find, you are no longer in the environment your language refers to as space.

The bridge crew looked around at each other and the main screen. The back had been replaced with pale light gray. There appeared to be nothing in the void.

"You are not the only ones, rest assured. I had to take these measures to prevent senseless damage to our home."

Schmidt looked to the scanner, "Sir, the scanner is still inoperative. I'm getting false readings."

"The readings you're getting are not false, I assure you. Your equipment cannot identify where it is you are right now."

"Captain, we're being hailed from the Romulans," Rodgers reported.

"Put them on, this ought to be good," Szylnick lounged back in his seat, realizing the situation was no longer his to control.

Sokar was almost hysterical, "What is this you have done to us! Are we not supposed to have ceased hostilities? What have you done to us!"

Szylnick was trying not to laugh, it being the first time he'd ever heard a Romulan close to panic, "I didn't do anything to your ship."

"This is a place we refer to as morok. The most basic way to describe it is the space beyond what you refer to as space.

"Why have you brought us here!" thundered the Romulan.

"To prevent you doing harm to our planet. That is what you

came here to do, is it not?"

"We are retaliating for your capture and destruction of one of our vessels. My vessel and its crew."

"Was it not your ship which attacked our world?"

The Romulan said nothing.

"We're done with the specimen we took from you. You can have it back, here," The alien made a motion with his hands and Jarvis was back on the bridge, slightly confused.

"Well, uh," he stammered, "It's good to be back. I was in the process of trying to escape from the cell we were put in."

"It wasn't a cell," explained the alien, "It was a test arena."

"Test?" answered a surprised Jarvis.

"Yes, you humans seem to be very good at struggling to get free. It seems your friend the Romulan thought he could beat us with telepathy. We found a way to use that as a stimulus. We also found that they have an extraordinary telepathic capability. We couldn't read them as easily as you humans. As a result, we experienced a...surprise."

"Just what were all these experiments supposed to accomplish?" Szylnick asked.

"We wish to know as much about you as you wish to know about us. However, we don't require the need for physical conveyances like this vessel. You see, we've found a way to control the movements of time. It's actually very simple, you see. If you subdivide each portion of time successively, its very easy to rearrange it."

"I don't understand...," Jarvis said.

"Your 'imprisonment' as you called it actually only lasted for about an hour. You perceived that same amount of time as a matter of days."

"Amazing!" Rodgers commented.

"Yes, well, now I'm afraid its time to dispose of you," said the alien.

"What do you mean?" Szylnick asked, tensely.

"I'm sending you away, now."

The Romulans, who were listening to this whole conversation interrupted.

"We are right now attacking your city!"

"Don't make me laugh, please! Your ships are currently attacking a barren wasteland."

"What happened to the city, then?" asked Schmidt, remembering it disappearing earlier.

"The city was moved backward in time as so not to have been present when the attack took place. Now, I must leave. Good-bye."

The alien disappeared, and the viewscreen shone stars again.

They were back in normal space. After a quick check, they realized that the Romulans were no longer present.

"Status report," Szylnick commanded.

"Sir, we're about 300 parsecs from our original position."

Shit, now what! Szylnick thought, "How long until we can return to the third planet?"

"Two days at warp, sir."

***

Sokar found his fleet suddenly re-deposited in another sector of space. The cartography division researched their location and was able to plot a course back to the planet.

"We shall return and attack, for the Empire!" Sokar declared.

The Centurion approached his Lord, "My Lord, we will not be able to reach the planet for at least a full cycle."

"We can get there quicker by stellar rigging," Sokar suggested.

"The Ganada isn't equipped for that. We can not break up the armada without losing our tactical advantage."

The Ganada was the armada's main asset, however for speed, it was their worst liability. The ship was the pride of the Empire, a masterful blend of technology and cunning. It was a large ship, with powerful thrusters. Its hull came to a point in the front. It had the ability to punch directly into an enemy, depositing a boarding party immediately after hull penetration. It could also back out of an enemy, allowing the breach to rip the ship apart by its own atmosphere escaping. Sokar considered all the possibilities, noting the best course of action.

"We must be patient," He told his Centurion.

The senior analyst showed him their results, "By our research, it appears that this area provides all the controlls for the region."

Sokar studied the pictures, "So this is the heart of their operations. I sensed as much while I was incarcerated. They refer to it as 'the great controller."

"In our assumption, this would be the primary focus of an attack," concluded the analyst.

"We will strike at their heart. Instruct the Ganada's commander of his new target. We will provide the supporting fire, blanketing the planet's surface," Sokar instructed. He had the rest of the armada form up and they started back to the planet. They hadn't heard the last from him, he thought. Analysis branch had pinpointed the location of their power.

***

Horizon was the kind of place that could be considered a frontier town. It had a name for itself, and all the buildings and street names appeared to reflect this, as would a tourist attraction. The theme here was 'the father city.' Everything seemed to be centered around it.

Everywhere Fairfield went, he saw repetition, especially with the town seal. There was apparently a tie-in with exploration here, but he couldn't figure out how it fit in with frontiers. He walked down the main street, looking for a place to eat that would satisfy the mood he was in. It bothered him to think that he would have to assimilate with these people, despite how familiar they were to humans. He found a place which was fairly quiet, and secluded. The place opened up to a large room, where people were waiting, presumably to be seated. There was a large display case in the center of the room. Curious, he moved closer to check out the display. It the case were items which looked very familiar, but they were of an antique vintage. The one item was a slightly larger and bulkier version of a communicator. Most curious, was the design on the cover, embossed into the device. It was the same circled planet and star design as was on just about every major billboard and building in the city.

What would a communicator be doing among a culture which is still using wired telecommunications devices? he thought to himself. He remembered his grandfather, years ago telling tales of interplanetary visitors who came to earth during the mid twentieth century and the first half of the twenty-first. There were claims of people being abducted, people who saw strange craft, cover-ups by the local national governments and more. In popular folklore, they gained a status not unlike those of the mythological gods. Did someone come here and give them this technology? If they had, why hadn't it been used? And who gave it to them?

***

Giraud was beginning to think her Captain was losing his mind. They had rented a vehicle and were now driving off across the desert plain which they had originally traveled by bus earlier. April drove on, ever so often glancing at his communicator. They were driving at a pretty fast speed, and Giraud was concerned for her safety. Possibly, the stress of losing his ship has been too much for him to handle. He seems almost obsessed with this signal. It may have been a form of denial, she suspected. There were rocks in the distance, which began to grow larger on the horizon, until they became very tall. April slowed the vehicle to a stop. He jumped out, taking his communicator with him.

Sir?" Giraud called.

"It's up here!" he answered, running toward the base of the mountain.

Giraud shrugged, and followed him up the path.

April continued his run up the mountain. No one was more surprised than he was The hull of a saucer ship, perched on one of the mounds. It had a large crack in the center of the hull, which probably resulted from the impact, but overall appeared to be intact. He had read about these things when he was in high school. Now, he'd come face to face with one.

Giraud saw the wreck as she followed her captain to the top of the hill. It looked like it'd been there for a very long time. It couldn't possibly still be transmitting coordinates after all this time, could it, she wondered to herself. Still, it seemed curious enough to investigate. She lit the flashlight she'd taken from the glove box of their rented vehicle.

April found the hatch on the aft side of the ship open. He climbed up the rampway, which was still connected on the left side. Whoever landed this thing did one hell of a job, noting that it had been a relatively smooth landing for an emergency.

The interior was dark. The power was now down to a bare minimum. The access way led directly into the bridge, or control room, as it was called back then. In the center of the ship was the round globe used for navigation, the predecessor to the astrogator, now found on most ships.

Giraud made her way up the ramp, "There doesn't seem to be much power left."

"They rigged these things to collect solar power while they were on the ground."

"So this ship hasn't actually used its own power?"

"No, unless the cells were damaged. Maybe with a little work I can revive the main power grid and take a peek at the log."

He started pulling a panel off the wall, exposing the circuitry underneath. The light was dim, so it was hard to tell what he was looking at. The only light came from the control room dome, and the light shining in from outside.
 

The Exeter had been traveling for a day since the alien cast them away from their original location. They had found their way back on what appeared to be the right course. Their estimated time of arrival was another twenty four hours, at least.

The sensor alert warning sounded.

"What've we got?" asked Szylnick.

"Not sure, sir. It's a small craft of some sort, but it's not able to be identified by the computer," Schmidt reported.

"Visual?"

"Not yet, still out of range."

"Can we hail?"

"Attempting to now, sir, all channels," responded Rodgers, working the console buttons, "No response, all frequencies."

"Keep trying," Szylnick answered, "Schmidt, I want a patrol out there immediately. Have them fully armed. I want to know what we're dealing with out there."

"Aye, sir."

***

Lieutenant Commander Lasker was the flight leader this time out, as they moved towards the unidentified craft. Scanners were only showing a blip on the scope, so they were still out of range.

"Control, this is Freedom one, we are en route, no contacts

yet," he reported in.

"Roger that, Freedom one," replied the on duty controller.

The starfighters neared the object, which appeared to be just floating in space. They circled it, confirming what they saw.

"Control, we have established contact, request further instructions," Lasker reported.

***

"Control reports contact with the object sir, awaiting your instructions," Schmidt relayed to Szylnick.

"Visual yet?"

"A small one, sir, but it may be enough."

"Let's see it."

An image appeared, although it was small. A long, cylindrical craft with trapezoidal appendages sticking out of either side. It was thinner toward one end than it was at the other.

***

"What the hell is that thing, sir?" the wingman, Lieutenant Bruschov asked.

"I haven't the faintest idea. It not a spaceship, that's for certain.

***

"Let's put the forward spotlight on that thing," ordered Szylnick.

The spotlight was reflected back toward the ship from the reflective surface of the object. The detail could now be seen. It was a vehicle which appeared to be used for transport. The appendages held what looked to be the propulsion units.

Rodgers stared, disbelieving what he was seeing, "If I didn't know better, I'd swear that was an airplane!"

"Airplane, Mr. Rodgers?" asked Szylnick.

"Yes, sir. History is sort of a hobby with me. What you're seeing is what I believe to be a vehicle which travels in the atmosphere of a planet. On earth, they were used before anti-gravs came along. I'll research it further using the main computer."

"What would it be doing here?" Schmidt wondered.

"Get a tractor beam on it and put in the shuttle bay. We can get a closer look. Mr. Rodgers, I'd like you to accompany me to the shuttle bay. Have Mr. Jarvis meet us there."

***

Something was bothering Jarvis. He'd felt unsettled ever since he was back aboard the Exeter. Maybe it was just the sudden return to his ship. Things he touched seemed to feel different, and events which would normally cause him to react a certain way didn't. Like yesterday, when he cut his hand on a grid strand. It didn't seem to hurt like it should've. He felt as if he was going numb. And the dreams about him being in a glass cage at a zoo didn't help much either. Still, he tried to go about his business without letting him be affected by the occurrences. There must be a reason. Maybe he'd take some leave when this was over.

The door opened up and he greeted the two men in the shuttle bay. In the center of the deck was a large, tubular object, covered in ice.

"Jarvis, come take a look at this," Szylnick said, greeting the chief engineer.

Rodgers had identified the object as an airplane, vintage mid to late twentieth century.

"These things sticking out on the sides were called wings. We know them today as airfoils. They are still included on starfighters for extra maneuverability during atmospheric observations. This airplane was powered by jet engines which used a mixture of petroleum and air to ignite. Air passed through the large openings, here, and the fans pushed it out at high velocity, moving the vehicle forward," explained Rodgers

"Let's look inside," suggested Szylnick.

The hatch had been left open when the vehicle was put into space, which was why it was in such good condition, even after having been exposed to extreme temperatures. The three made their way up to the hatch, which required a ladder to access. One by one, they climbed inside. The floor was still very cold even after having the deck climate raised to above normal temperatures. The inside of the airplane was cramped, with nothing but seats and little aisles between them. On each side of the vehicle, windows looked out into the shuttle deck.

"The cockpit is forward," Rodgers said, motioning to the front of the craft.

They moved to the front, down through the rows of seats. The cockpit was even more cramped, with only three seats and rows of instruments, all over the room.

"Hard to believe that these instruments were all monitored by the crew," mused Szylnick, looking around at the instrumentation.

"This device is what told them where they were going, here. It's just a compass with a gyroscope driving it," Rogers noted.

"Not much different from the astrogator. Just add the third dimension measurement," Jarvis added. He was trying to stay focused, but the truth was that he wasn't feeling very well. Ever since he entered the craft, he was feeling claustrophobic, which he also found highly unusual. Something was telling him that he had to get out of here, right now. He stood and fought the feeling, his technical curiosity triumphant over all else for the moment.

Rodgers looked at the heading which was displayed on the instruments. He wasn't sure what he was looking at, but something didn't look right.

"My navigational skills are a little rusty, but according to this, the ship was in a vertical dive, but the artificial horizon shows it in a climb," Rodgers pointed out, looking at the instrumentation.

"Possibly the instruments were affected by the lack of a gravitational field," Jarvis speculated. His head was humming. It was getting harder to concentrate.

"We're a hell of a long way from any atmosphere," commented Szylnick. He'd picked up a headset, which was laying on one of the seats. Examining it, he found something even more unusual. The right side of the set had the words 'Made in Japan' stamped just along the edge where the speaker was connected to the wire, "We're even farther away from Japan," he added.

Jarvis felt the walls collapse on him. Voices were screaming, but they were unintelligible. He had to get out now. He ran back out of the ship, racing down the corridor of seats, leaping out the exit hatch, then falling to the deck.

The others followed him. Looking down they saw Jarvis, unconscious on the deck.

Szylnick pulled out his communicator, "Sickbay, get a team to the shuttle bay, possible injury."

"What was that all about?" Rodgers wondered.

"I don't know, he must still be messed up from the aliens," Szylnick speculated.

***

Fairfield felt like people had been watching him. Maybe he was just paranoid. He took his usual trip to the library, trying to learn as much as he could about the place he would now consider his home. This area was the capital of the country, called Asmeria, and Horizon was the town which was considered the founding community. There was a lot of talk about settlers, but none of the books ever mentioned where the settlers came from. there was no mention of how they got to their present state, only the great achievements, such as community service and exceptional leadership. There were very few technological breakthroughs in this society, although it appeared that something was missing. There was something even more peculiar, still. There appeared to be no recorded history prior to two hundred years ago. It appeared as if the world had no distant past, no archeological expeditions, no science in general! He decided to ask some questions. He approached the clerk, working at the check out desk.

"Excuse me, I'd like to speak to the research department. Do you have anyone here who does that?" he asked.

"Certainly, I'll get her. Wait here a moment," the girl went off to find the researcher, and came back with another woman.

"I'm Mrs. Fehringer, head researcher. What can I do for you?"

She was a plump woman, somewhere in her mid-forties. She had short hair, slightly graying, but still retaining a portion of her original light brown color.

"I'd like to discuss some questions I have concerning some of the history in this country."

"I'd be delighted, " she responded, "Come into my office."

They went back to her office, which looked more like a closet than it did an office. There were books and folders scattered all over the room. There were books with pages open, books stacked precariously on top of things and a general appearance of disorganization. The corner of the room had what he thought was an electrostatic copying device and file cabinet, with the cabinet also doubling as a space for several potted plants. The window behind the desk looked out into the front yard of the building. There were people in view, walking by or lazing around the front lawn, reading. Amidst the clutter of the office stood the desk, which was also covered in clutter. The middle of the desk area, however, was bare except for a few pens and a tablet. The edge of the desk contained some photos and a placard that said 'God bless this mess.'

He took a seat in the chair, just opposite the desk, "What I wanted to ask about was historical developments prior to the last two hundred years or so."

"There haven't been very many on record, as I recall. You should've seen that from the history books."

"Well, that's just it. I see automobiles, television, radio, and other types of things, but there's no mention of who invented them. There's no...logical progression as to how any of these items came about."

Her eyes narrowed as he spoke. He could tell that she was watching him, "You're not from around here, are you?"

"No," he answered, trying to keep from blowing his cover, "I'm from another country. I'm studying foreign culture for a degree in Sociology," he lied.

"I see. Well, I guess you'd have to say that our country has been fairly stagnant, technologically, for about two hundred years. However, we are the leaders in world developments, as you probably already know."

"Oh," he said. Uh-oh, I think I blew it, he panicked.

"Good day, Mr. Fairfield. If I can be of assistance again, please call."

"I will," he said, rising from the chair. He was trying to imagine what set of cataclysmic events he had just set off. He'd go back to his room and think for a while.
 

The whole room was filled with a dark foreboding, unlike most of them had ever experienced in their lifetime. Only the elder members of the Core actually remembered any experience like this. They waited for the briefer to begin.

The briefer passed out several 8 by 10 black and white photographs to the group.

"Good afternoon, Gentleman," he began, "A few weeks ago, we got a call that there were some suspicious looking people operating in the area. We managed to get a photograph of one of them."

One of the elders gazed at the photograph, stroking his chin, "Doesn't look any different than any of the others," he commented.

"Yes, sir," the briefer continued, "We have also received a series of transmissions above the normal radio band."

One of the younger members leaned forward in his chair, "Ultra high frequency? No one is allowed to use that for private communication!"

"Correct. Nevertheless, we have at least four occurrences of this frequency being used. The message is just above the range of our equipment, but we're trying to analyze it."

The senior member of the Core leaned back in his seat, putting the water glass back on the table after taking a sip. He paused a moment, before speaking.

"I think we have an alien operative here."

"There haven't been any aliens here for fifty years! We defeated them once!" the young member who spoke earlier commented.

"There is no one on this world who has the capability to use the ultrahigh frequencies."

"There's more, sir," the briefer explained, "The person in this photograph has been seen asking about high technology, such as computers and scientific research. He claimed that he was from another country."

"Well, that proves it," the Senior stated, "He's not from here, otherwise, he'd know that there aren't any other countries on this world.

What is he after?" one of the other younger members asked.

"There's no telling," the briefer answered.

"We need him off the street. Have your men move in on him. I want him brought to me for questioning," ordered the Senior member.

"Sir, should we put PDMS on full alert?" asked another member.

"Yes, we could be facing another attack."

***

"We've managed to gain some information on the vehicle we intercepted, " said the Flight Deck Operations Supervisor, Lieutenant Commander Arnold Lang, "But it's a little confusing."

"In what way?," asked Szylnick.

***

"Well, Rodgers told me about this device called the 'black box.' Well, my men did some digging, and we found it. I got engineering to rig up something so that we could monitor it. It's basically a magnetic tape--"

"I don't need the gory details, just tell me what was on the recording," Szylnick said.

"Well, there's' nothing of any use. I don't really understand it myself. They're flying along and then everything stops! The time measurement devices, which were also recording just stop registering! It's the damnedest thing!"

"I see," Szylnick just stared out through the viewscreen, trying to make sense of all this.

***

The lights came on and devices began clattering to life. The astrogator in the center of the room began to glow with a pale, yellowish light. Giraud watched the monitor at the engineering station as the levels began to climb.

"How much power do we have?" asked April, his head still stuck

in an access corridor under one of the control panels.

"These readings say about seventy-five percent," Giraud answered.

"Great, let me see about the log, then," he said, dusting himself off.

He located the control panel on what he guessed would've been the command station. Back then, there was no center of the bridge, so command was located near the helm, which was along the wall near the rampway they'd climbed earlier. The log was part of the computer, which was still character-only, presumably to conserve power. The computer showed its activity by means of a blinking line and the 'command:' prompt. He didn't know what to enter, so he started guessing. His first attempt was 'log,' which failed. Next, he tried 'history,' then 'operations.' They didn't work either. He started getting frustrated. Giraud came over, looking at what he was doing, and typed 'menu.' The screen changed to show a list of tasks which the computer could accomplish. He selected 'Ship's Log' and 'read,' which called up a list of entries. He moved down to the last entry, then touched the screen. The text appeared, documenting the final entry of the spaceship.

***

"28 NOV 2079; We struck an asteroid, shortly after suffering from a scanner failure. We were flying blind for a long time before, and something was bound to happen. We suffered two casualties to space and have encountered severe damage to life support systems. By using visual clues and a pair of binoculars, we were able to find shelter on a planet only a few thousand kilometers from here. This will be the last entry, due to our shutting down the main computer to conserve power. If we survive this ordeal, our crew, which is comprised of male and female, will be forced to start the first earth colony in outer space. We will not be able to return home, the damage is too extensive."

***

"Amazing," April commented, staring at the readout, "They knew they couldn't come home, and they founded a colony, years before anyone else."

"Horizon, that's the name of the capitol city here," Giraud observed.

"All this could've evolved from..."

"It's not all that impossible to imagine, considering the fact that there has been over two hundred years."

"Damn..."

***

I am inside your mind. We share one body, now.

No! thought Jarvis, I won't let you.

You have no choice.

There is always a choice.

He felt his arms, but they were not his to control. They were moving toward the console which lay across the bed where he was laid. The arms began to control the console, patching in to the main library, where the technical data was stored. Jarvis had to get away. The presence was still in his mind. He looked around the sickbay in search of something he could use. The drug was still effecting the presence. He still had control. Doctor Guest, the ship's medical officer, was studying some vials in the other room, and there were no attendants around. He slid off the bed and crawled toward the door. The Doctor was still unaware of his departure. The presence was beginning to wake up. He knew what had to be done.

***

Concentrate, he thought, I have to win this. The Romulans used aggressive thoughts, he concentrated, remembering what the alien on the bridge had said.

You cannot. We are one now. My thoughts are yours.

Then, he figured out a way out. He thought, way back in time to his childhood, a song which was silly enough to distract the other occupant of his mind: On top of spaghetti....

What is this? the alien presence asked. Jarvis continued on with the silly lyric, while he made his way down the hall.

The alien couldn't understand what was going on, he felt his control slipping away. This must be another impenetrable barrier, it noted while failing to read his host's current thoughts.

Jarvis found the door where the transportation device was located.

What is this? What are you doing? The alien was screaming now, its mind full of fear. It could sense that the Jarvis personality was about to do harm to itself. It had to regain control.

"Just never you mind," Jarvis answered.

You cannot escape me. We are one.

"Not for long," he said as he pushed the transport mechanism's control sliders down. The machine began to hum and whine as the matter/energy converters initialized and warmed up. Jarvis jumped into the chamber as the whine's pitch increased.

You cannot escape! You cannot!

Jarvis fought his arms to work the controls on the console. He pulled open the access panel, crossing two wires. The hum of the transportation device began to well up from the room, and Jarvis jumped into the chamber.

The alien was frantic, jerking Jarvis' arms and legs wildly trying to escape the beams. Jarvis felt himself disappear into thin air as the transport beam collected the energy which was once his body and deposited it into the buffers. This must be what they refer to as horror, it thought as his host was disassembled. The alien made another note.

***

"Captain, someone's using the transportation mechanism. I've got primary power losses in five different locations to compensate," said Schmidt, pointing to his status board.

Szylnick punched his intercom, "Security to transport system! Unauthorized transport in progress!" He jumped out of his command chair and dashed off the bridge, "Mr. Schmidt, take over."

***

The hum of the transportation device was so loud that people were holding their ears as they entered the room. Szylnick and the transport officer entered the room to see the last remnants of Jarvis's form disappear as the transport mechanism completed its task.

***

"Jarvis is in the buffer, sir," a perplexed Transport Officer Casey reported. He could see the file which represented the body of Commander Jarvis, stored in the proper directory. Of course, it was only the digital information needed to reassemble his body. The energy part was stored in a battery, waiting to be transmitted to whatever destination had been programmed into the control unit.

"Can we get him out?"

"Normally, yes, sir. However, he's locked the thing into some sort of loop. If we try to disengage, then the system will drain the buffers and we'll lose him for good."

***

Doctor Richard Guest had been standing on the bridge, waiting for his meeting with the First Officer when this news broke. He'd been summoned only minutes before this incident. He felt it was time to be heard.

"Sir, I think there's something here you should see."

Szylnick turned toward the doctor, visibly agitated, "What's that?"

The doctor handed him a set of prints from the bioscanner, "These are taken from Lieutenant Commander Jarvis' scan about two hours ago, when he was brought in."

Szylnick tried not to get angry with the doctor, but he didn't understand the papers he was being given. He took a deep breath and spoke, very quietly "Doctor I don't understand what this is showing me. Can you explain it to me?"

The doctor was a little surprised that a senior officer didn't know anything about medical charts, but obliged, just the same, "If you look at these graphs here, you'll see that there are more than one personality. Look at the way this chart seems to operate on two levels."

"You're saying that he had a split personality?"

"Or that he was being controlled by someone."

"Controlled?"

"Well, the level of the readings show that one of these patters is functioning far beyond normal. Here, look," he pointed to the low line on the chart, " Here, this one is really strong. In actuality, it's an above average reading for a human being. I pulled the last scan we had of him from his last physical. This level is more on the normal level. If you look, you'll see that it takes into account an increased intelligence level of an engineer."

"So, what are we dealing with here?"

"My educated guess would be some sort of alien presence inhabiting Commander Jarvis' mind. However, there's more," he continued, "This is a level two scan that we run routinely on all patients. It gives us height, weight and vital signs. I've never seen readings like these before."

Szylnick was growing impatient with the doctor, "Based on your observation, what have you found?"

"Based on my observation, Jarvis is in fact two different beings. One is the Jarvis we know, but according to these readings, there is another non-human life form which has somehow been combined with Commander Jarvis' own biological material."

Continue to Chapters 21-25

Read more from The Early Years and C.L. Nelson.

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C.L. Nelson The Early Years To Boldly Go, Ch 26-Fin	On Site 2012.08.20
Follow Captain Robert April and the early Starfleet crews!

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