Prologue
All the Council members sat quietly in the Chamber of Decisions. Finally, a vote was going to be put forth. The fate of the People rested on a majority vote. Marduk, the chairman banged the gavel and stood up from behind the massive old desk. He clapped his hands tightly together and whispered to himself then he slowly spread his hands apart. A long rolled up scroll appeared between his opened hands and it unraveled before him and floated in mid air. He cleared his throat.
Agegi had sat quietly throughout the entire proceedings, fuming over the previous month’s debacle. The Council leaders sat behind the tall wooden desk. They sat high above everyone looking down at the rest of them. Merlen, Lucfar, Orion, Marduk, Adruqu, Osira, Gud and the rest staring down at them all in their arrogant way.
Marduk particularly was not his ally, had him removed from the Cash committee and restricted his access to non-Council information. Effectively, making him blind, deaf and dumb to what was going on. Marduk suspected Agegi of going against Council Edicts and under a cloud of suspicion stripped him of powers pending further investigation.
Marduk was right. Agegi had been going against the Council’s back, but he had his reasons. The Council was growing fearful of the future. They talked of silly plans for the future of Necron. Agegi knew that his people were the oldest and most powerful in the galaxy and should conduct themselves as such. Within a half million years Necron manipulated thousands of worlds. Why stop now, why throw all their efforts into the wind to be blown away into vacuumed space. Absolutely astounding Agegi thought. Not the way that a responsible species should conduct themselves. It sickened him really, but now that his authority and power of true vote had been stripped away there was nothing he could do. So, he listened.
He wasn’t totally in the dark. He still had allies in the Council but they would only go so far as to give him some information, only the surface stuff and only a hint of the real plans at that. Agegi did know that the plan involved putting all of Necron in some sort of deep sleep and possibly even some sort of time travel, maybe even have more than one location for this idiotic plan, but his information was sketchy. He resolved to get the complete information, be damn the Council for their silly ways.
In a person’s life-time decisions are made, some good, some bad, some of no immediate consequences. A person frets over some little unimportant detail when the big picture stares back. A choice is not always made under the best of circumstances. The only thing a person hopes for is an outcome that is remotely close to what is hoped for. Thus, a decision begets a consequence.
Chapter 1
Sean Blakemore stared blurrily at the picture in front of him. The picture frame weighted under his weak and slightly drunken arms. He squinted once and sighed heavily. "Damn you!" he hissed. "God damn you to hell!" He screamed and flung the picture frame across the room. The frame broke and the glass cover shattered into small pieces. He slammed his glass at the shattered remains. Liquid spotted a torn photograph of a beautiful woman. He stood up and walked over to the bathroom sink. The remains of his last eaten meal still clogged the sink. He stared into the mirror. "You bastard! You ought to walk out in space right now." Sean, at this moment hated himself and a decision he made years ago. The man in the mirror stared back with eyes that spoke of disappointment, pain, suffering and shame. Sean thought that if he were Buddha his eyes would show him his duhkha. Instead, they reflected, glossy, as they were, a man in deep pain...and in deep hurt. Maybe he was looking at his duhkha.
"Excuse me Commander," a disembodied voice said.
Sean looked over his shoulder. "What is it now?"
"Commander." The computer said.
"I know my rank!"
“…you have a call coming in from headquarters."
Sean stared at himself again and rubbed the day old growth on his chin. Not too long ago Sean enjoyed receiving calls. It was always that hint of the unknown that gave him a reason to serve GRID control. Now...he didn’t feel one way or another. A call was just that: A call.
"I'll take it in my Ready Room."
"Yes Commander." The computer said.
Sean walked the walk of a man trying not to show his inebriated state. He entered his Ready Room and sat heavily into his chair. He faced the CRT and pressed a 'ready' button on the keyboard. The screen sparkled a moment, then a shaped solidified. Sean blinked. He cleared his throat and said, "Yes, Sir. What may I do for you?"
The man on the screen stared intently at Sean for a moment, as if he could literally read what was on the younger officer’s mind. Then he smiled. "Sean, you look like shit!"
"I feel like shit." Sean smiled and raised an eyebrow,
"A mission?"
"Yeah Sean, you got a mission and what a mission it is."
Sean chuckled softly to himself, "Good, Patrolling asteroids is not my idea of fun.”
The Admiral laughed. He knew all the details over the incident. When it happened he shook his head in astonishment. The man sacrificed a promotion for a fellow officer. Sean had been on the fast track to Commodore. Everyone he came into contact with believed it. Sean believed it. There was no stopping the progress. Except something did stop the progress. It was emotions, or if one were a direct witness to the events then some would have called it ‘lust.’ Maybe love, but lust definitely and loyalty, trust and belief. Sean had put all that into a person. He momentarily stopped thinking about his original goal in joining GRID control, “To be the best damn anything I put my mind to.” In letting his emotions steer him away from the main path he got side-swiped and it resulted in a very nasty ugly collision with an alternate destiny. Sean disobeyed a direct order from a commanding officer, a commanding officer with ties to the military measured in centuries. After the dust had settled and cleared, and the body count recorded, only one person stood. Unfortunately, it was not Sean. The fellow officer had won a commendation, a commission, and a promotion. GRID control is an institution where discipline, duty, loyalty, and honor are held in high praise – when applied to the right side. Sean picked the wrong side and he was a casualty of a bruised ego. In one felled swoop ten dozen bodies littered the streets of revenge and embarrassment. He figured that as the walking wounded he’d be rescued. He wasn’t. His wound was deep.
Sean Blakemore walked onto the Top Deck. He stepped just outside the elevator doorway. The elevators doors hissed closed behind him. He stood for a moment listening to the beeps and low noise around the room. 'Top Deck Chatter,' Sean thought. The low sounding beeps, the hushed conversations, background noise and voices coming from the intercoms, the clicking sound from keyboards, all this was deck chatter. It was a sound that all hands grew to believe, no feel, synonymous with the autonomous functions of the brain. Quiet the Deck chatter and the ship is dead. Rumor had it that if you silenced Deck chatter for a minute all hands would suffocate.
“This is the one thing she can't take from me.”
"Commander?" A young ensign asked. “Are you alright?'”
Sean stared down at the youth. He was young physically, but his mind was old. He noted the smooth flowing skin and wished that his scarred and hardened face could recapture that once ago look. "Nothing Ensign," he smiled, "I'm okay."
"Okay Sir." The ensign said, turned and walked off to other assignments.
Sean walked over to the command chair and sat down. He swiveled it over to look at a CRT on his right. He punched in his pass code and read the scrolling information on the screen. His eyes widened first with excitement, then narrowed with anger. His assignment was going to put his ship under her command. He swore loudly.
The personnel on the Top Deck turned to see their Commander in a foul mood. He ignored them for the moment; his only concern was the data he was now reading. “Incredible! They want my ship as a damned escort vessel!” Sean looked up suddenly and saw many startled faces. Deck chatter was an octave lower.
Sean sat for a full minute before he moved. ‘Damn,’ he thought, ‘God hates me.’
"Mr. Foster,” Sean said, “get us to the nearest GRID point, we're going to Flashpoint."
"Aye, aye Sir." The Lieutenant said. He fingers played over the control panel. Sean watched as his helmsperson worked the controls. He noted the long dark colored fingers dance from one button, control, slid, to another button, control, slid. He noted the crooked nose on a long face with small eyebrows over almond shaped eyes. Medium lips that occasionally spread wide and thin in a smile.
"Course laid in, Sir."
Sean sat back and tapped at the CRT. He opened the ‘ship intercom.’ "All hands, all hands, travel stations, repeat, travel stations." He pressed the button again. His second-in-command sat next to him in the XO chair. Sean swiveled to the left. "Well, Dawn. Ready?"
Dretha Dawn pressed several keys on her terminal, read the scrolling data on her CRT. "Yes, Sir."
Sean Blakemore cleared his throat. "Mr. Foster, proceed!"
The Grid-ship Battlecruiser Reginald L. Johnson's engines flared into action, thrusting the massive battle ship into motion. Its destination: A GRID Point. An artificial point that created a measured amount of gravity within dark matter. GRavity InDucted points, in space, allowed a mobile object the ability to travel to another GRID point. The Johnson approached the grid point and waited.
Sometime in the three-quarter 20 th century scientist speculated about the fate of the Universe. Some said that what was seen in the heavens was all there was. Others argued that the visible Universe was about 4% of what was really out there. Early in the 21 st century “dark energy” was discovered. It was in complete contradiction to Einstein’s gut feeling that “there was no such thing as ether.” But, like all things scientific, some gut feelings must give way to observable facts. Succinctly put, the visible Universe was but a pinch in a hand full of existence. We lived in a place of great mystery and what others called ‘folly.’ Seventy percent of all that is out there was made up of a substance called “dark energy,” twenty-six percent “dark matter” and the rest the visible Universe.
GRID travel was possible because of dark matter and dark energy interaction with “normal” direct observable matter and energy. The basic idea behind GRID travel is that the space-time continuum is a very thin extremely strong, durable and self-healing rubber sheet. This sheet is made in such a way that pulling or pushing a section does not disturb neighboring sections. The sheet remains strong. GRID travel involves creating a wave with several crests and valleys. The base line of each crest and valley intersects with a section of this rubber sheet. A GRID capable ship just rides this wave as far as it can. And as things are, some ships are faster at riding the wave than others. Battlecruisers are able to produce a GRID wave the skips several sections of space-time before it intersections or contacts space. This wave is very long. A ship able to travel a long GRID way effectively travels many times faster than the speed of light. The fact is, a ship riding a GRID wave perceptionally travels slower than the space of light and is thus subject to relativistic forces like any other matter traveling at great, but way below, light-speed. What a GRID wave does is allows a ship to literally skip large expanses and chunks of space-time. The faster a ship travels a GRID wave the faster it skips large portions of space-time and seems to travel faster than light. Johnson is a fast ship.
Sean sat back, watching the main viewer. The signal beacons bleeped on and off marking the boundaries of the grid-point.
Mr. Foster said over his shoulder. "Ready to enter, Sir."
Sean stared. His mind was on the encounter he was about to face. The bleeping of the signal beacons broke the thoughts of some one he once loved.
Mr. Foster waited.
"Proceed, Mr. Foster."
Grid-Ship Johnson’s engine’s pulsed. The huge ship labored forward into the grid point. It accelerated, then vanished between two beacons that flashed on and off in a relentless job of signaling a GRID slot. The ship was gone, toward another grid-point to another point, to another point, to another point, until it reached its destination.
Mr. Foster checked and rechecked the pattern flow across his CRT. He knew the drill: Pick a point, lock in on it, pick another, and lock in on that one also. Keep doing it until you were where you wanted to be. He knew the drill, but to make sure he checked and rechecked. "ETA in ten minutes, Sir."
Sean looked up from his CRT, "Noted Mr. Foster." He swiveled his chair to the communications section. "Mr. Kirkland."
Mr. Kirkland pulled the comm. plug from his ear, "Yes Sir."
"When we get to Flashpoint, contact the Webster. Let Webster know that we're ready for rendezvous."
"Aye, Sir." Kirkland placed the comm. plug back in his ear. He listened intently on the comm. traffic over the grid net. He picked up bits of messages from the Outlands. He dialed in a tighter signal. His panel beeped that his designated target was in comm. range. He typed in a brief message and sent it to the Comm. Officer of the Webster, a friend.
Sean just sat and stared those last ten minutes away. He snapped out of his dream state, "Mr. Kirkland..."
Kirkland looked from reading a text message that flashed across his screen. His friend had just sent a message explaining that the crew was on edge. Webster’s Captain was going to command Johnson and she wasn’t too happy. "Yes Sir?"
“Are we in contact with the Webster?"
“Yes, Sir. Just reading a message from the Comm. officer now..."
“Good, please ask their Captain to contact me at her earliest convenience."
Sean got up and started walking. "I'll be in the conference room. Dawn, please accompany me, I have things to tell you.”
Dretha followed Sean through the sliding door. To the Top Deck crew the door hissed closed rather tightly.
Kirkland began typing out the message to the Webster.
Commander of Johnson wishes Captain of Webster to contact him at earliest convenience.
*End of Message*
*** Commander is in a bad mood - think maybe blood is still bad between them? ***
The reply came back,
Commander of Webster acknowledges message. Information on rendezvous follows immediately.
*** Yep, blood is still bad. The Captain cursed up a fit when she received the orders. ***
Sean sat down behind his desk. He turned the chair around so that the expanse of stars swept by the view wall. This was his place of ease. Dawn sat just in front of the desk and turned her chair likewise. She watched the stars streak by. She waited a few moments – Sean seemingly was in awe with the view, cleared her throat.
“Sir, is there something wrong?”
Sean broke his gaze from the window and turned his chair to Dawn. “Yes, very much wrong.” He paused.
Dawn waited.
“Captain Spaarin will be taking command of the Johnson for the duration of this mission.”
Three seconds ticked by.
“That fucking bitch!”
Sean wanted to laugh. Dawn knew all the details. She was absolutely loyal to him and he was certain of that. During that time Sean gave her an order and she followed it. She believed in that order; she still believed in the order and she felt Sean had been given a raw deal. It was absolutely political. Dawn had heard rumors that someone high up had taken a liking to Captain Spaarin. This someone had shielded her from all the meltdown that occurred from her disobeying an order and everyone else was collateral damage. The only good thing that came out of the whole mess was that Sean was given the command of the Johnson, but not given a captain’s rank. The SI war ended with humanity victorious but left humanity wondering what it really meant to be human. Many lost their lives – many commanding officers died. Ranks had to be filled. During the most intense moment in the War the Johnson lost its Captain. The position was filled but without a promotion – and that smacked as a slap in the face to Dawn, increased responsibility but not an increase in pay. What better form of humiliation and punishment could be exacted on a person?
Dawn reiterated, “That fucking bitch!”
Sean nodded, “Wish it could be someone else.”
“Damn! What is GRID control thinking?” Then Dawn frowned. “What is our mission?”
“Don’t know yet. I only know that Robin...Captain Spaarin will be commanding Johnson.”
“Bitch!”
“This is why we are talking right now.”
Dawn looked Sean straight in the eyes. Sean stared back and said, “I’ll effectively be her number one and...“
“That is total bull shit!”
Sean nodded at that exclamation. He being number one meant she was out of a job. She would have to be temporarily reassigned. This mission sucked for everyone involved. He continued, “...and I’m keeping you as XO.”
Dawn clamped her jaws tight. “Yes, sir. I knew I wasn’t going to like this one bit.”
Sean nodded and understood. During the ‘fallout’ Dawn was up for court-martial. Sean took absolute responsibility over the incident. Sean “saved” about a hundred personnel.
Dawn sighed, “Anything else, sir?”
Sean smiled, “Nope, I dropped that second shoe.”
Dawn smiled back, “By your leave then sir.”
He nodded and Dawn got up and walked out.
Sean sat there for a moment staring out the window. He remembered the first time he had been in space. It was a feeling that would always be with him. A sense of awe, and wonderment mixed with fear and anticipation. It never left him. Even now, amidst this mission Sean still took in the expanse before him. Space, Sean told himself, was something to always be in awe.
"Commander..." Kirkland's disembodied voice said.
"Yes."
"Captain Spaarin is on channel three."
"Thanks," Sean replied, swung his desk around and hit a combutton marked ‘three’ on the terminal on his desk, "Commander Blakemore here." Sean listened. He stilled himself for the voice he knew would come."
"Yes, Commander Blakemore..."
Sean's heart skipped a beat.
"Put it on visual Commander."
Sean hesitated. He really didn’t want to see her face. Hearing her voice was painful enough. He hit the visual button. A beautiful face sparkled solid. A beautiful face he hadn't seen in five years, a face that reminded him of bad times – and good. He set his jaw, tensed, then relaxed. "Yes, Captain, do you see me now?"
The face was small and round, dark hair, with dark eyes. The lips were full and every time Sean chanced the stare, emotions of lust would wash over him. He shook himself and remembered that this woman was the one who placed him where he is now, maybe not purposely, but nevertheless a result of the fallout from her actions. She was his superior now, used to gain a promotion. Sean never forgot, and for that he hated her.
Spaarin sat back and smiled thinly. She remembered Sean better looking five years ago. She stared into his eyes, and wished he had been stronger about the whole ugly affair. It wasn't her fault that he became too emotionally attached. She warned him, but by that time she was ready to make a career move. She sighed and said, "Yes, I see you Commander. Nice to see you after all these years." It was a lie, but she had a courtesy to lie, rank, position, and respect and all that for the service.
Sean nodded; he wasn't going to make this easy.
"Sean, we have a problem..."
"Yes."
Spaarin hesitated a moment, then, "I will be taking command of the Johnson..."
"The Johnson," Sean snapped, "is my ship. Just tell me what to do..."
"No Commander, I will be coming aboard. We will then proceed with the mission." She saw that Sean was grinding his teeth and clenching his jaw.
Sean stared intensely at her. He knew he couldn't fight it. His orders had been specific, 'Follow the orders of Captain Spaarin.' "Yes..."
She dared to push, "Yes what?"
"Yes...Captain Spaarin...I will make arrangements." He wanted to scream 'you bitch I’ll arrange my boot up your ass! You messed up my career, and I took the fall for you.' But he stilled his tongue and swallowed his pride. He hit the off button, turned his chair to the view wall and lost himself in space. She, at least, can't take his last moments as ‘Captain’ of his own ship, the last moments that would allow him to be alone.
Captain Robin Spaarin looked at the now blank screen. She bit her lower lip and swore, "Damn!" She was not going to like this assignment, not one bit.
Sean sat in the dark staring off into the black void. He let his mind drift on nothing particular. His ship was being taken and he couldn’t do a damn legal thing.
Captain Spaarin sat in her chair. She stared at the contents on the desk in front of her. The assorted mish-mash of stuff lay upon it. She reached out and picked up a picture frame. She held it close to her heart and sighed heavily. "I'm so sorry Sean, it had to be done." She looked at the photo and pursed her lips together. She laid the photo down face up.
It is the small things that command the most attention. Ego, pride, and shame are sprung from the same fountain of emotion but to differing degrees of appreciation. The sin that causes the most pain is not necessarily the sin most presented.
Chapter 2
Sean stood in the hangar bay watching Captain Spaarin's shuttle dock. His stomach twisted up in knots. The docking rings locked into place and the green "all-clear" light, flashed. The hangar door hissed open and Captain Spaarin stepped out. She was met by a small contingent: Sean, Dawn, and other officers.
Robin saluted, "Captain Robin Spaarin here to take command of GRID-SHIP Johnson." She held her salute and stood stiff. It was only a moment but it felt like forever minus one hour.
Sean waited. He slowly stiffened and saluted back, "GRID-SHIP Reginald L. Johnson is temporarily in your command."
Robin nodded and dropped her salute, Sean did like wise.
"You'll be moving into my quarters. I'll move into the VIP."
Robin searched his face for distress she found none. “That won’t be necessary Commander. The VIP room will do nicely. The Johnson is your ship and my stay onboard will be brief.
Sean held himself in rigid control; he would not give her any reason to feel superior. Sean nodded once. "Follow me, Captain." He turned and walked out before she could reply.
The walk was more for his sanity then for her benefit. He wanted her to following him for once. He knew the Johnson, she didn't, and she would have to admit that.
She picked a spot at the back of his neck and stared. She could feel his tension, his stress, he was giving up his ship and that in itself had to be stressful. It didn't matter she knew he hated her. She resolved not to let it impair her decisions. She was in command now, at this moment that was the only thing that mattered. Robin cleared her throat. "Commander, take me to the Top Deck first please."
Sean stopped short, "Yes, Ma'am." And entered the nearest lift.
"Top Deck." He spoke when everyone was in the lift.
The computer replied, "Yes, Commander."
The door opened and a flood of deck chatter washed in. Robin held her breath as she stepped out into the Top Deck. Immediately the chatter stopped. Robin froze as she realized that she was a complete stranger. Eyes stared at her from all corners.
Sean stepped from behind, said, "As you were people. Superior officer on the deck.” The top deck sighed; Robin released the breath she held. Sean walked down the ramp to the command center and sat in the XO chair. Robin walked from station to station observing. The situation was indeed awkward. She pushed the thought of uneasiness aside. The Johnson was hers, for now, but only on a word. Sean was in command; she was just sitting in his chair. That was the important thing to remember. Robin walked to the commander's chair and sat heavily. She reached for the CRT and typed in several keys. The computer blinked with access denied. She caught a quick glance from Sean. He was trying not to watch, but was failing in concealing his curiosity. She typed in another combination of keys. 'Access denied' again. She looked up and over to Sean.
"Commander, may we talk in private please."
Sean nodded, got up and headed for the conference room. Robin got up and followed.
Just before the conference door hissed closed Robin snapped, "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Top deck heard, “What the hell...” and the rumors would fly.
Her cheeks bright red from the anger she no longer held.
Sean stared and kept his mouth shut. He had an idea what she was talking about, but he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of pushing it out off him. He cleared his throat and said, "Captain, what am I doing?"
Robin placed her self in check. What had he done? That was his chair out there, not hers. He sat there and conducted ship’s business very well. In fact, he was getting a commendation. Then what had he done? He shut her out, his ship, his chair, and his people. He shut her out and was not going to give her easy access to any of them. She realized she was going to have to earn her place. Robin looked at Sean. His forehead was wrinkled in frown. Yes, she was going to have to earn it from now on. "Commander, please give me access to all command systems."
Sean smiled, "I was..."
"But."
"Never had a chance to finish the process. You sat in my chair and started typing away.”
Robin nodded.
"May I do it now, or do you have anything else you want to talk at me about?"
Robin stood in silence musing over the many ways she could handle his request. She sighed slowly, said, "Yes," and grinned.
Sean frowned, "Ah, yes to which question?"
"Which one do you want first?"
Sean looked into her eyes, eyes he remembered not to long ago he was happy to wake up to. Now he wanted, wished, he could forget them. Too much pain too much sorrow. "I'm sorry, Captain. I'll give you access now, may I go?"
Robin nodded.
Sean sat in the command chair, stared at the CRT and began typing. He gave her access to all his files, all the ships files, and everything else she may think she needed, he didn't care.
“Mr. Foster,” Sean said, “please call Commander Dawn to Top Deck.”
Robin stared out the view window. She thought of Sean and the life they would have had. She thought about her career, and how satisfied she was for making the choice she made. Life had been good to her. She turned and stared at the beige bland wall. 'Oh, Sean, I am sorry for what happened, but life goes on.' The bland wall remained silent.
A paradigm is a worldview unique to each person. Change the rules you change the outcome. Change the outcome changes the paradigm. The universe does not take kindly to changing the rules.
Chapter 3
Robin sat in the command chair, getting a feel for how Sean seated himself. She noted that he sat with his back flush against the rest. "Mr. Kirkland."
"Yes, Ma'am?"
Send a message to the Gallant. Tell them that all is well and we'll be proceeding to rendezvous point immediately."
Kirkland adjusted the comm. plug. His fingers danced over the keypad. He placed in his routing codes and sent the message.
Comm. Officer of the Johnson sending a message to Commander of the Gallant. Message follows: Proceeding to rendezvous point immediately. No ETA given by commander. Please reply upon receipt of message. Signed Comm. Kirkland.
Kirkland waited. He didn’t know the Comm. Officer of the Gallant but a friend from the Trailblazer spoke highly of Gallant’s Comm.
"Message sent, Ma'am."
Robin nodded. "Mr. Foster, set a course for...“she keyed in a set of numbers and sent it to his CRT, “I want us there in two hours..."
Two hours, Ma’am?"
“Was I making a suggestion or giving an order?”
“An order, Ma’am.”
Mr. Foster nodded and started his task. He called up the Nav. Map and took notes. Thirty-five grid jumps! By the book it would take a little over three hours. He cut it down to twenty-seven jumps. It wasted fuel and would be bumpy. He keyed in the codes, looked over is shoulder.
"Ready, ma'am. One hour fifty-seven minutes. Best I can do and keep our lunch down."
Robin smiled. Sean kept a good ship. "Proceed, Mr. Foster."
With a nod, Foster started the sequence of grid jumps that would take the Johnson to whom knew where. He watched his panel, and did what he did best: Navigate.
Robin punched the intercom button, "Commander Blakemore, please report to Top Deck conference room, please report to the Top Deck conference room."
Sean drifted in a sea of smooth colors, soft fluids, and faded lights. He dreamed of nothing but patterns. His dream-state body floated in complete relaxation, no worries, no hassles no fuss. The dreaming was his and would remain his. A cloud of mixed colors covered him. It was soft and pleasant. Sean rolled in its cool and changing patterns. Another cloud drifted by, its collision marked by the increase in flowing colors splashing around him. Several more clouds drifted into the already chaotic patterns that were produced by the previous encounters. Sean's dream state sensed something wrong. He tried to relax and will the colors and patterns to smooth out, but more clouds gathered, their colors and patterns dark. Sean gasped as he tried desperately to stop his dream from its inevitable conclusion. "No!" He silently hollered, "No! I want to dream!" A cloud crashed into him. The force knocked his dream state in a spiraling fall into nowhere. Another cloud slammed into him, and another, and another and another.
Sean woke up sweating. The sheets were moist from the perspiration that gleamed on his body. He looked around. No clouds.
"Commander." The computer spoke.
"Yes, what is it?" Sean said, burying his face into his hands.
"Captain Spaarin requests that you see her in Top Deck Conference Room."
Sean got out of bed and dragged himself over to the sink. He stared in the mirror, studying a face that didn't sit right with him.
"Commander, did you get the message?"
Sean snapped, "I got it.” Then, “Send the Captain an acknowledgement message to the Command CRT.”
The computer remained silent.
Sean grabbed his clothes got dressed and headed out the door.
Robin sat waiting for Sean. Now was the time she would tell him, tell him the secret. The door hissed open and Sean walked through.
He looked at her, said nothing and sat down across from her.
Robin sat back and stared.
Sean stared back. He would meet her on her terms.
"Sean, did the Admiral tell you why he gave me command of Johnson?"
Sean shook his head.
"Have you heard of necronomicon?"
Sean frowned and shook his head.
"Have you heard of Magick?"
"Magic? Why," Sean blurted, almost regretting his tone, "are you asking me about magic?"
"Because, I want you to understand."
An eyebrow shot up. "Understand?"
"Yeah," Robin began, nodding her head slowly, "Understand that this is serious."
Sean sniffed, "Serious?"
"Suppose Earth was visited in the past by Aliens..."
"Excuse me, Captain, but is this speculation?"
"Pardon?"
"We've been out here," he waved toward the window, "for more than two centuries. The only aliens we've encountered were the ones we scattered ourselves."
Robin blinked and frowned.
Sean continued, "I would like to believe in'em, but the only proof we have is broken pottery and markings in dirt."
Robin cleared her throat. "Have you heard of Magick?"
"Yeah, and?"
"I mean, really heard of it? Not just something you grew up with, but have you seen it?"
"Just in movies and books. Why?"
Robin sat back and smiled. She pursed her lips in thought, took a deep breath. "Earth was visited long ago."
Sean huffed. “You turning my ship into some damned ghost hunter?”
Robin ignored the question. "Dr. Loggar will be joining us from the Gallant. She will conduct the investigation..."
Sean raised an eyebrow. He heard of Dr. Loggar. Pretty high up in GRID control. "Shadow chasing?"
Robin thought a moment; Sean was very cynical as well as skeptical. "An investigation, the proof is beyond scary."
"How so?"
"Dr. Loggar was working out in the region we will be heading into. She and her group found artifacts and equipment, computer equipment Sean! Equipment that is still working.”
"Working! Alien computer equipment? Impossible!" Sean said.
Robin shook her head. "No, it's not. The equipment is working. Hardcopy manuscripts detailed how to operate it. The manuscripts were preserved for over 1,000 years. Once the language was deciphered the rest was easy." Robin's eyes welled up with tears. She softly shuddered at the thought of this information. My god, she thought, it's still makes me shake when I talk about it. She cleared her throat. "Sean," she began softly, "think of it, a connection between another intelligent race and ours. Suppose we are their people."
Sean sat uneasily in the chair. The information Robin was giving him was shocking, if not difficult to assimilate. Aliens, maybe real proof. "Is the evidence real? Any chance of fraud?" Sean knew the answer. GRID control would never send a trillion dollar ship on a whim. The evidence had to be exact and overwhelming.
Robin shrugged, "Anything's possible. After Dr. Loggar made the discovery, GRID Control placed armed ships in the area. She took some stuff to Earth for further analysis. She thinks the stuff is real. The Gallant is going to meet with us. We'll take her aboard and proceed to the system." Robin hesitated. "She asked specifically for you."
"Me! I don't believe in magic, or in aliens!"
"How can you say that, and really mean it? Earth has had a lot of unexplained occurrences throughout our existences."
Sean huffed. "Fraud, practical jokes, massive EM surges.”
Robin thought a moment. She never really considered that Sean would totally deny evidence. Yet again he DIDN'T see the evidence. She had and it scared her. A handful of scientist who think they've found something so profound and utterly old that it has to be from ‘someone’ else? As Sean put it, 'markings in dirt’. Maybe humans were the only ones in the galaxy. Robin slowly shook her head. "This place is much too big for just humans to exist." Robin said. "We can't be the only ones here."
"All right," Sean started, "suppose we're not the only ones in the galaxy, or the universe. The all important question is why have we not been contacted."
Robin opens her mouth to answer, but Sean cut her off.
"Because, maybe there is no one else." Sean said casually as if it was the hundredth time he said it.
"Maybe," mused Robin, "they've had some form of a Main directive regarding life forms. We have one."
"You see, you sound like all the other UFO..." Sean paused to consider his words, then continued with, “. . . believers. We've been in space four hundred years now. We've traveled to hundreds of planets. We've settled tens of then. And in our centuries of populating the galaxy we’ve made war with ourselves. Yeah, we’ve found some evidence of intelligent life, but we’ve never encountered it. I'd like to believe in'em, but the truth is we are it. We’ve mapped 125 cubic billion light years and nothing. No encounters, no proof of existence now. Nothing, nada, zero, zilch.”
“Sean,” Robin retorted, “that is less than one percent of the total volume of the Milky Way.”
“Robin, we’ve had this discussion before.”
Robin stared.
“Look, scooping up an 8 oz glass of ocean water is by far less than a millionth of a percentage of the total volume of water, but you’d find it full of life.” Sean waited a second. He was giving Robin a chance to counter. “We should have found something by now.”
"Wait and see what Dr. Loggar has."
Sean smiled, "I will. I'd also like to know why she asked for me."
Robin shrugged.
The room was silent for several seconds.
Sean cleared his voice. "If you'll excuse me, Captain."
Robin picked up on the formal tone, "I’m through. You have other duties to perform."
Sean nodded sharply once, got up and walked out.
Robin turned her chair around to the window. A star streaked its elongated self slowly by. We can't be alone Robin wished, and hoped. This universe is much too large for it to be wasted on us.
Sean walked back into his room and sat down at his desk. He thought about what Robin told him and he immediately got scared. He cursed himself for the suddenly emotional turn. Why am I scared he thought. We are alone, are we? I grew up all my life believing that humankind was it. And if there was life 'out there' then it happened a long time ago, right? Sean got up and walked over to the bar and pulled a bottle out. He stared at the clear contents for a few seconds, pursed his lips and put the bottle back. I am scared. I'm also excited. What if, life, other than humans is out there? That would be something. "Computer?"
"Yes, Commander?"
"What do you know about Dr. Loggar?"
"Dr. Kathy Loggar is currently GRID Control Exobiological/Anthropological coordinator."
Sean chuckled at the word exobiology. We humans will always hope, including giving degrees for things we can only speculate on. "Is she married?"
"At the last known query, no. Dr. Loggar is single."
"Do you have any documentation on her life?"
"I have documentation of all individuals of prominence and importance to GRID Control."
"How about answering with a yes or no?"
A pause, then, "Yes."
"Thank you." Sean walked over to his couch and sat down. "Tell me about her please. Dim the lights also."
The lights dimmed and Sean relaxed as the computer began.
