An author's collection of thoughts and stories
“CAROL” the space alien announced. “YOU ARE ONE OF US!”
“Oh my god!” Carol gasped. “I never saw this coming!”
“YOU WILL RETURN HOME WITH US, AND LIVE IN HARMONY IN THE SUIT FOREVER. IT IS YOUR TRUE BODY.”
“I knew it!” Carol declared happily.
“YOU WERE SENT TO EARTH AND IMPLANTED IN A LITTLE GIRL. THE REAL YOU IS A CHIP THAT MELDED WITH YOUR HOST BODY. PEACE AND HARMONY FOOOOREEEEVEEERRRRRRR!!!!”
So, the spaceship returned home, and Carol was finally true to herself. The end.
The fire had burned down to embers, casting only a faint red glow about the cabin, but Captain Lambert didn’t care about the darkness. He stared out the window, watching the raindrops trailing down the glass as flashes of lightning illuminated them, followed by the delicate sound of thunder.
It had been a long time since he’d taken leave. After the incident with the Suit, the General had been discharged for approving a mission which had lost the military their top asset, especially with the captain’s objections on record. Lambert found it hard to care. The last thing he had done in his commission had been to fail to protect one his own, even if she hadn’t been a real soldier.
That damnable woman was the reason he was out here in a hunting lodge, a hundred miles from nowhere. He needed time and space to think, to reason out if there was anything he could have done.
And to mourn the dead.
He had known that she would never come back. Perhaps that was why he had given up everything in an effort to keep her solidly on Earth, where he could continue to watch over her. He missed her.
Suddenly he jumped as the phone in his pocket was vibrated. It was impossible for him to receive any calls; he was well outside of signal range, and had set it to airplane mode as well.When he drew it out, the screen lit up with the familiar answer/reject screen, only there was an anomaly – there was no incoming phone number. It didn’t even say “Caller unknown”. The space was simply blank.
Curiosity piqued, he swiped his finger across the screen and lifted it to his ear, gruffly answering. “Hello?”
“Hello, Lambert,” the voice echoed in his ear, and a sense of unreality washed over him. The voice was hers, but not at the same time. It resonated in a way that no human voice ever could, and the intonation was flat like that of a computer generated voice. He wondered if someone had found a way to play a sick prank on him.
“Who is this?” he growled.
“I’d like you to know what really happened.” the voice answered, ignoring his question. “I’m worried if I don’t tell you, you’ll end up drinking yourself into an early grave.”
Lambert glanced to the glass on the table beside him, barely visible in the dim light. It was mostly empty, as was the bottle beside it, and he laughed humorlessly. “You’re not too far from your mark,” he replied. “Okay, so what actually happened?”
“They sent me up to the ship, but you already know that. You also know I never came back. People all across the planet are probably wondering why the ship disappeared so suddenly: was it scared off? Left for reinforcements? I’m sure there are rumors.”
Lambert nodded, unconsciously beginning to pace as he listened. “Yes, something like that.”
“The reason,” the voice murmured into his ear, sounding more and more like her, yet still frustratingly mechanical at the same time, “was that it was a retrieval mission. They were only interested in retrieving me. I wasn’t joking that night when I said the Suit was my real body, and as it would turn out, I was more right than either of us knew at the time.”
Lambert came to a halt. “So let me get this straight: I spent all that time working with an extraterrestrial?” He couldn’t stop himself from adding, “I always thought aliens would be more dignified than that little mouse.”
There was a peculiar buzzing on the line, which changed gradually into laughter. “Yes and no. The body I live in – the biological body – is human. The Suit is mechanical, as is the Commander – the part of me which connects the two. I’m far more complicated than you gave me credit for.”
Lambert snorted. This was preposterous. Even if it was true, that just meant the world itself was a bad joke.
“Oh, don’t be like that. We’re not a threat. And nothing you could have done would have stopped me from returning. We’ve been doing this sort of thing for a long, long time. Everything about Carol, the cleaning lady, was designed to ensure things would play out like they did. If it’s any consolation, you figured it out much faster than average.”
“It’s not a comfort,” he retorted. “But I suppose I’m glad to hear that you’re not dead. By the way, you know that my phone is tapped?” He began pacing again, smiling.
Carol chuckled. “No one will ever know about this call unless you tell them.”
“No, I don’t think I will.” Lambert turned to stare at the dying embers in the fireplace, and thought of how he could draw the moment out to last a little longer. “Just out of curiosity, what would have happened if I’d managed to have you confined away from the Suit?”
Her reply was blunt,“There are certain protocols that can be remotely activated. It wouldn’t have been pretty, but the result would have been the same. My body would have found me, and I would have left Earth. The only difference is that people would have died.”
This time Lambert frowned, his eyes fixed on the faint red glow until they stung from dryness. “There are things worse than failing, I suppose,” he murmured.
“I wanted to apologize for letting you down, and to let you know that you didn’t do anything wrong.” Carol’s voice sounded more like her old self, feminine and a touch neurotic. He had never considered her as a woman before, but that fact seemed more evident on the phone than it had in person. “I thought you deserved that from me.”
Lambert nodded, slowly. It was true – it had been eating at him ever since that day at the hospital. He had blamed himself for failing her as he had with Hartmann, and believed that it reflected poorly on his abilities as a leader. The closure she gave him helped enormously.
“Thanks, Commander,” he replied.
“Please, call me Carol. I’m still as much human as I am Aurigan.”
“Is that the name of your species?”
“Yes.”
Lambert glanced back at the empty alcohol bottle. Somehow it didn’t seem quite so appealing, but neither did going back to civilization. “Say, Carol…” He felt nervous for some reason. “I don’t suppose your people are looking for individuals with a military experience and a background in psychology.”
“That… is quite a thought, captain.” There was a pause, and Lambert cursed how blind he was, speaking over the phone. He wanted to see her face, to read her body language, and know what she was thinking. After an eternity, she said, “I didn’t expect that. Are you serious?”
“As serious as I can be with this much whiskey in me.” His heart was pounding. Was he really asking to run off on some alien spaceship? He must have gone mad. However, there wasn’t anything left for him on Earth. He was no longer in the military, and his country was on the verge of a crushing defeat. What he wanted was to start somewhere fresh, even if that meant traveling the stars.
Her answer was simple, “I’ll ask the others. Perhaps we’ll be in touch.”
“Good enough for me,” he said, moving back to the window to look out at the sky. He wondered where she was, the mousey woman who lived in a giant mechanical body. Was she hidden just beyond the clouds and rain, or had she already left the galaxy? He unconsciously touched the glass.
“Goodbye, Lambert,” she said.
“Goodbye, Carol,” he replied. The phone signal went dead, and there was no record of the call. If it hadn’t been for the sheer craziness of the conversation, Lambert would have thought that he had hallucinated the whole thing.
He hoped that he would see her again.
~Fin~
Carol was let out of her room by someone she didn’t recognize. He introduced himself, but she didn’t catch his name, and when she asked what happened to Lambert she was curtly told that it wasn’t her business. She was to pilot the Suit up to the spaceship and not ask questions.
She wasn’t going to complain. Carol made sure that she was acting ‘unambitious and obedient,’ hanging slightly behind the new man and biting the inside of her cheek to keep herself from grinning. She didn’t speak a word the entire time as she walked to the bunker, clipped the radio onto her shirt, and climbed into the Suit.
Holmes looked suspicious at her turnaround from earlier, but he didn’t tattle. Instead, he waved with a melancholy expression on his face, as if to say, “Goodbye forever.” She didn’t wave back.
“All right, we want to make peaceful contact if possible, so don’t attack unless absolutely necessary. Do you understand?” the new man said.
“Yes sir,” Carol answered mechanically. It was difficult waiting for the signal to leave, but she reminded herself again and again that she didn’t want to ruin her mission at this point. She was going to the spaceship, and that was all that mattered.
It felt good to be inside the Suit again, to move around as her real self. The contrast made her realize how much she hated her tiny human body in comparison, and she wondered if she could live inside indefinitely. She knew that she didn’t have the strength to exit ever again.
Lambert had known that too.
The flight to the alien craft was short. Without thinking about it, Carol directed herself toward the aft where the Suit’s instruments indicated a landing bay was opening up in response to her approach. She had been expecting that.
As Carol approached the opening, waves of inexplicable feelings washed over her, including excitement mixed with apprehension. But most overpowering of all was the unmistakable sense of homesickness, and the peculiar sensation of doors opening within her mind that she had never known existed.
She felt a tug as she crossed the threshold of the bay, and automatically spun to land on her feet, reacting instinctively to the artificial gravity which lent her surroundings a clear “up” and “down”.
All around her were mechanical constructions, strange yet familiar; stacks of cargo and materials; and most significantly, standing in the shadowy rear of the bay, was another Suit like her own.
She took a hesitant step toward the other Suit, then another – with every moment the uncertainty hindering her seemed to fade away as recognition took its place. She knew this person. How was that even possible?
Welcome home, Commander.
The words simultaneously scrolled across her visor and echoed in her ears, although she was quite sure she hadn’t actually heard anything. Her steps broke into a run, and she skidded to a halt when she was practically touching him. She reached out with both arms, her palms facing him, and he returned the gesture, leaning forward to touch their hands together.
The next few fractions of second happened very quickly. It was like sitting in a comfortable room with an old friend or close family member, and they spoke easily to each other, although neither of them were moving their lips.
“It is good to see you again,” the Suit said. “What do you call yourself now?”
“Carol,” she replied.
“That is a good name.” He nodded, approvingly. “You might not remember mine – I am Xigian.”
Carol floated through their dream-like exchange. It was easy to accept whatever happened, but she still had questions; she had been born on Earth, and to her knowledge had spent her whole life there. How did she know this person?
“Who are you?” she asked, “Are you another human, like me?”
Xigian gave a gentle chuckle, and there was the strong impression that he reached forward and squeezed her shoulder fondly, even though neither moved.
“I’m as human as you are – well, not exactly. In a sense, you’re a lot more human than I am … but in another sense, neither of us are human at all.”
Carol frowned, confused. She hated it when people gave roundabout answers to direct questions, then expected her to understand what they were talking about. “But I am human! I remember growing up on Earth. And if I wasn’t, the doctors would have noticed when they were busy poking and prodding me just a few days ago.”
Xigian shook his head. “That’s … partly true. One part of you, the human part from which you got your name, was indeed born on Earth. But you, the Commander, were not. That part of you came from here, from me – I created you.”
“How?” was all that Carol could manage.
“Our people are the Aurigans. We’re not entirely mechanical, but we’re not entirely biological, either. The Commanders are our mechanical aspect. It’s a chip about the size of –” he paused, as if looking something up “– about the size of your little fingernail. When a new Commander is created, a body is created along with it. But that body is incomplete until the biological component is added to it.”
“Then… the Suit really is me.” It was the most wonderful news that Carol had ever heard. It was no wonder that she had loved it so intensely as she cared for it.
“It completes you. Your body – your biological body – is also you. Or a part of you. We approach the limits of what can be achieved with mechanical processing, but that is not enough. To be whole, we require a biological brain as well. Usually, those are grown from samples we have of species we have encountered before – but every so often, we encounter a new race whose abilities are interesting enough that we wish to expand ourselves to include them.”
“So you sent me…” Carol nodded, then a thought niggled at her. “But why did you wait so long? Why was I forced to exist… incomplete… for over thirty years?”
Again, there was a brief pause, as if Xigian were referring to some invisible source of information, before he replied, “It was only twenty-eight Earth cycles. Your body was around three when you joined it.”
A wave of horror washed over Carol and she exclaimed, “No! You couldn’t have … I couldn’t have! I was found as an orphan! Did you… my parents…” She trailed off, feeling numb at the suggestion. Was her beginning really that dark?
“No, you didn’t kill your parents. We aren’t interested in harming the species we encounter. Your earliest protocols would have guided you to seek out and identify a very young member of your target species that was in a significant state of physical and psychological distress, and separated from its parents. The child you found probably would have died without your intervention. We study our targets thoroughly before sending a Commander to integrate with them; you would have known exactly what to look for.”
She was relieved. Carol couldn’t have accepted the idea of tearing a child from its parents, but did take comfort that she had saved a child’s life – her life.
“You were installed into your target, but integrating takes a long time – not just to grow the connections, but to allow the Commander to adapt itself to its host. It functions like another decision making center in the brain, but it has to work effectively and fluidly with the others. Without that, there wouldn’t be any point – we can harvest corpses as much as we want for biological material, but without integration we don’t gain the unique aspects that make each species so distinctive.”
An image from an old sci-fi movie that she had once watched flashed across Carol’s mind, and she shuddered in response, blurting out, “Biological material? That sounds more than a little distasteful.”
Xigian shrugged. “Perhaps it is, but we’ll need enough genetic samples to produce more human bodies when we want them. Plus, that’s how we come to understand the hosts enough to make integration possible.”
Carol was a little giddy from the weight of everything that she had learned. “Is that all? I had horrible images of human bodies being reused somehow. That just seemed all wrong.” She giggled, and wanted to lay down somewhere dark and quiet. She wished the Suit would activate the help system and everything would make sense.
Her companion frowned slightly. “That’s an interesting aversion to have. You’re right – we don’t do that – but the idea doesn’t bother me like it does you. I hope when you complete your Remembrance that I’ll understand better.”
There was an unusual telescoping sensation as both Carol and her companion let their hands drop to their sides again. From her internal chronometer, she could tell that approximately a quarter of a second had passed during the entire exchange.
Xigian turned to leave the landing bay and Carol trotted to walk beside him, the two of them falling into perfect unison. They spoke without words now, and without the visor. She felt as if her heart strings were being tugged in every direction, but one thought emerged as more important than the rest. She asked, “Hey, you said you created me. Does that make you my father?”
“Father – another concept humans value highly. We encountered the familial terms early in our analysis; the EM communications of Earth are absolutely stiff with them. That was one of the things we wanted to gain. We do have creators, and creations, and we do take a special interest in them. I requested your retrieval personally because I was very curious to know how your integration had played out. But humans go far, far beyond that with their creators and creations. The extremes humans go to in order to protect or enhance their creations is extraordinary – unrecorded in our studies of any other species. We decided that gaining that would be enormously beneficial.”
Sorrow welled up inside her chest, but was abruptly carried away as if the help system had activated in response to her wish. With detached clarity, Carol reflected that he wouldn’t understand how much the question meant to her, not until her human experiences were shared with the Aurigans. When he did understand, he could greet and comfort her as her long-lost father. Until then, it was illogical to be hurt by his indifference.
But she still wanted to express how she felt.
She reached toward him, and Xigian did not resist, humoring her as she clasped his hand in hers and threaded their fingers together. Together they walked out of the landing bay – no longer an orphan, she walked hand in hand with her father as he led her home for the very first time.
Aldric liked riding his dragon the way everyone else liked riding horses. He would often go on long expeditions through the sky, swooping and swirling to dance with the clouds, and trying hard not to expose his teeth to the grit that was always present no matter the altitude. As a matter of practicality, he took to wearing masks – black so he wouldn’t have to wash them too often – and due to his absent-minded nature, he often forgot to take them off once he was back home.
He ruled over a small, but economically powerful, country built on good sense and common courtesy. The children called him “The Candy King,” and looked forward to every Lammas when he would fly his dragon overhead and drop parachuted packages full of all the sugar and chocolate that his kitchen staff could put together, followed by a few stunts to scare and delight his people. He spent most of his waking moments focused on ensuring their happiness, and took enormous pride in being their king.
However, his benevolence did not extend beyond his borders. Aldric preferred to stay isolated from the world, and aside from a few well-established trade routes, kept his country entirely to itself in social and political matters with the reasoning that he had enough to worry about without dabbling in everyone else’s affairs. As a result, terrible rumors abounded unhindered about the “Dragon King,” who terrorized the countryside with fire and violence.
Aldric was blissfully ignorant until the first self-described hero showed up. He had been out on his daily ride, and had returned to play his organ while meditating on how to improve the healthcare for orphans, when he heard a sudden scream. He started and turned around, and to his horror found one of his guards injured by someone shouting hysterically about justice while flailing a sword.
The man was promptly jailed for his crime, but because he refused to state which country he had hailed from, Aldric didn’t know where to return him to. Thus, he was sent to a work camp, which was far more productive and reformative than letting people waste away in dungeons.
The next hero gave a speech before attempting to use his sword, claiming that Aldric was obviously evil from his black mask (he had forgotten that he was wearing it again), and threatened to slay his dragon. That made Aldric angry, so he sent this hero to the work camp as well – he wouldn’t allow anyone to menace his pet and get away with it.
This continued periodically for some time, with every single hero too absorbed in himself to listen to reason. Aldric was forced to tighten security around his borders, and his subjects became increasingly suspicious of outsiders in defense of their beloved king.
Mercifully, Theo the prince showed up on Lammas while Aldric was making his traditional candy drop. He had hoped to make a name for himself by defeating the evil dragon king, though through a series of unfortunately hilarious events, had brought his sister the princess Azalea along as well. Azalea was delighted to see the colorful parachutes drifting down from the sky, and even more enamored when she discovered they were carrying sweets. As a result, she refused to let Theo hide her away when he left to confront the dragon king about his evil ways – which were beginning to look less and less evil up close – and accompanied him to the castle.
Aldric settled in to play his organ upon his return, working on a song that had come to him while he had been flying on his dragon, and was deep in thought when Theo and Azalea arrived. Theo had wanted to burst in with his sword drawn, but Azalea insisted that they introduce themselves properly and speak to him first, arguing that anyone who cared that much about children couldn’t be all that bad. Theo had to turn his face in embarrassment while Azalea knocked and asked to see the king, stating their full names and kingdom in the process. It horrified him that his sister had so little sense.
As it was, they were shown into the audience hall and announced to Aldric. Upon turning from his organ, he was delighted to discover the most beautiful maiden that he had ever seen curtseying before him.
“Dragon king,” she said, her voice sweet and clear. “We have come to implore you to stop your evil ways…”
“I take care of my people, and I am loved by them,” Aldric replied, his eyes locked on the beautiful princess. “Is that evil?”
“Not at all, your highness, but you keep a dragon for a pet,” Azalea answered.
“She is a creature of the earth, as much as you or I, and I care for her deeply. Is it evil to love a pet?”
“No, your highness.” Azalea knelt down on the ground this time, and Theo’s face burned red with embarrassment. “But you dress all in black and wear a mask, and surely that is a reflection of the darkness in your heart.”
“Oh, confound it!” Aldric ripped off his mask and tossed it aside. “I have much on my mind, and I forget that I wear it to protect myself while on my rides. I wear black to save myself from worrying about my clothing. Is that evil?”
“No, your highness.” When Azalea looked up, her eyes were shining with deep admiration. Aldric stepped over to her and helped her to her feet, then stayed for a moment holding her hand as they gazed at each other. Theo saw it all in a heartbeat, and knew that his intended heroics were not needed.
A month later, Theo returned home to announce the news of Azalea’s engagement to Aldric, and talked freely about how wise and generous the dragon king was. The wedding was a grand celebration, and in the years that followed their children grew up happily as they played freely in the castle and enjoyed riding the dragon with their father.
The kingdom was never bothered by heroes again.
The end.
Look what I figured out how to do with the Reddit link, lol.
I came across this song on YouTube and thought it was cute, so I checked out this band. Their latest album is really angry death metal, with songs titled wonderful things like, “Fuck Love” and “Everything’s Wrong”.
I couldn’t help but think with some amusement, “I guess they got a divorce after all.”
Note: I don’t actually know anything, so don’t quote me. I’m just being silly.
My malfunction:
There was a time when my life sucked. I’d complain about particulars, but I’m also intensely secretive, so you’ll just have to make do with that statement: it really sucked.
I didn’t have any money, but I had a laptop and spent most of my time hanging out at places that provided wifi, reading silly webcomics, browsing Imgur, and watching Hulu (back when they were still primarily free). It was my only distraction from how much everything sucked.
I looked forward to updates, and laughed at everything funny. It got me through the darkness, not unscathed, but still alive. Sometimes just surviving is a major feat in and of itself.
Writing is my talent and my passion. It’s what I have to offer to the world at large, outside of my ‘happily ever after’ that my husband and I have crafted together. It’s how I give meaning to lingering pain that would otherwise feel meaningless. I write because I am a writer.
I cannot, however, ask for much money from it. My soul won’t permit it.
I won’t be JK Rowling or Stephenie Meyer. No millions, no movie deals, no fame.
What I fantasize is giving someone else the distraction they need during a crappy time in their life, to help get them through it alive.
It’s not my place to ever know if I actually accomplish that goal or not, as long as I keep putting stories “out there” to land wherever they will. No ego stroking for me.
It’s the reason why I only write happy endings.
And that is my malfunction; the reason why I don’t advertise or solicit reviews. I firmly believe that I will be found by the ones who need to find me, and when they do I need to be within their grasp.
That’s how I will repay my debt to the Universe.
Writing communities always make me feel like I’m the crazy, avant-garde person that everyone dismisses because I’m just so out there.
Crazy is a given. But avant-garde? I don’t think so. I always thought I was more old-fashioned in my approach.
There’s a hyper-focus on world building, world building, world building(!!!1) with fantasy and sci-fi. This is obviously inspired by everyone fantasizing that they are writing the next Lord of the Rings.
Me? I thought Lord of the Rings was okay. Not inspiring, but not a waste of time. Certainly not something I want to emulate. Definitely not something I want to endlessly reread with different clothing.
The problem with novels based on world building is that they are dry. The plot is painfully generic, and the characters are one-dimensional props that bounce from explanation to explanation; about how dragons are blah blah blah, and the king’s daughter is blah blah blah, and magic is blah blah blah. Maybe the main character is given an interesting ability, but then their personality is so stereotypical that no one can be bothered to actually care. Insert weird names like fah’ri and el’wes in a effort to make it more unique, but not really…
I confess that I quit reading high fantasy when I was in middle school. Never could develop the stomach for it.
My style is character-driven storytelling. Instead of drawing maps, I read books on psychology. I think about readability and flow. The plot is a natural extension of the characters, driven by their goals and personalities. I build just enough world to give the story a solid foundation, but I don’t think about it excessively. I don’t come up with enough material for a compendium by any stretch of the imagination.
So, while the topic of writing is something that I have put a great deal of time and consideration into, my fundamental approach is different from everyone else in my chosen genres. I’m crazy and different, and no one seems to know how to respond to me. Ha ha.
Maybe I’m even avant-garde.
Carol jolted awake at the sound of urgent pounding on her door. Dizzily, she stumbled to the door and opened it to find Lambert, who grabbed her arm and pulled her roughly into the corridor. She had to trot to keep up with him as they sped through the base, avoiding the faces of the soldiers that peered at them, self-conscious of still wearing her pajamas. Lambert looked intently through every window they passed, but was otherwise too distracted to notice anything else.
When they reached the doors to the outside, Lambert barged through then took Carol by the shoulders and pushed her forward out from under the eaves. She saw it immediately.
A giant spaceship.
Hovering right above them.
When she realized her connection with its appearance her heart sunk, then suddenly leaped in ecstasy. After having spent so much time lovingly polishing it, she recognized that the ship was made from the same metal and paint as the Suit. The beacon had reached home after all.
Lambert was livid. “Did you have anything to do with this?” he snarled.
“No!” Carol blurted, then immediately felt like a small child for telling the lie. “I mean… it might have been me… on accident.”
“Do you…!” Lambert couldn’t finish. He was glaring at her, hard.
Carol couldn’t resist the urge to stare at the spaceship. She liked the way the light glinted off of it, and the angles in the design were beautiful in a way that nothing on Earth had ever appealed to her. It held as much sway for her as the Suit, and she itched to fly up and see what the interior was like. Unconsciously, she stepped forward and reached up to feel closer.
“Solitary confinement, commander!” Lambert barked, yanking her back.
“What?! No!” Carol pulled against him, but was physically no match. If she was in the Suit where she belonged, she could do what she wanted whether he allowed it or not. But as a human, she was powerless. She fought Lambert as he dragged her back through the base, resorting to tactics used by toddlers and letting her whole body go limp as a dead weight. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulder, where all she could do was pound on his muscular back that didn’t even give her the dignity of bending under her weight.
She wanted the spaceship, more than she had ever wanted anything. Everything inside of her was screaming that she needed to get on board, and all she could do was put up a futile fight.
Lambert tossed her onto her bed and threatened to tie her down if she didn’t behave, then exited her room and locked the door behind him. “Make sure she doesn’t get out,” he ordered Holmes, who was dumbfounded by what he had witnessed.
“What is going on… captain?” Holmes could barely remember protocol.
“That goddamn spaceship is making her crazy! No more questions, soldier!” Lambert stomped off, taking a moment to kick the wall and leave a dent with his steel-toed boot along the way.
While there was no doubt that the spaceship was of the same origin as the Suit, Lambert didn’t know if it had been inadvertently summoned by Carol accessing full command, or if she lied and had deliberately called out to it. He missed the old Carol who had skipped around as a permanent civilian; she had died during her first mission, and returned a different person. Another unrecognized casualty.
The military had hailed the spaceship but received no response. Because there was no sign of any activity onboard, they were waiting to decide what to do next, the tension palpable. The entire world had already turned its eyes on them, watching. Judging.
For captain Lambert, the event was personal.
The General arrived within the hour, and Lambert was part of the ensuing conference. He was not remotely surprised when the General announced, “Let’s send in the Suit.”
“General,” he began, his speech already rehearsed, “I would advise against it. The spaceship is undoubtedly here because of the Suit, and there will be unexpected consequences if we send it up to them. Furthermore, it is demonstrably provable that the Suit influences the mental state of those who pilot it, so we cannot trust that our pilot will remain loyal to us once up there. We should wait to see what the aliens do first.”
The General raised his eyebrows. “Wasn’t your last mission a resounding success?”
“Yes, sir. But…”
“We need to show the world that we are fearless.” The General pounded his fist for emphasis. “If the extraterrestrials wanted us dead, they could have done it in an instant. We aren’t going up there to fight, but to make first contact. It is possible that they are unable to receive our transmission, and have no idea of our desire to communicate.”
“I have a bad feeling about doing that, sir,” Lambert muttered.
The General paused thoughtfully. “Are there any other ideas?” When no one answered, he continued. “We need to take action, and that’s the best we’ve got. We’re sending up the Suit. I trust that your training with that woman has gone well?”
Lambert thought for a moment, then stood and saluted. “I must stand against this decision.”
“Are you defying orders, captain?” the General asked quietly.
“Yes, General. I will not send the Suit under any circumstance.” The words were hard to say, but Lambert strongly felt that he would much rather face the consequences of speaking them than the guilt that would follow if he didn’t. His inner voice insisted he talk about Carol, to tell them about the changes in her personality and the obvious allure that the spaceship held for her, but in that regard he held his tongue to protect her.
Their eyes met, and the General spoke, “In that case, you are relieved. Thank you for your service.”
His face stoic, Lambert finished his salute and marched out of the conference room. It wasn’t until he was in his office that he let his mask drop, kicking his desk repeatedly as he cursed, “Goddamn you, Carol!” She would never appreciate what he had tried to do for her.
Oddly, the one thing that he regretted the most was knowing that he would never see her again, or give her a proper goodbye.
By Autumn Rain 