Rise of Aen Page 11

  “And they are coming here?”

  “Do you remember the Voyager missions, the ones where those fucking idiots at NASA put directions to Earth on the gold discs? Well those two crafts cleared the Oort Cloud and are out amongst the stars, and if found by these ‘Harvesters’ will spell the end for us.”

  Wilson was floored; this was the shit they killed people for if they found out about it. “So why tell me, sir? Isn’t that a breach of ‘need to know’ protocol?”

  “Taylor accomplished what he was ordered to do, but he fucked up and let the hybrid die—or so he thought. The mess in the valley down there,” Patterson nodded with his head out the window towards the wreckage of the morgue. “Was the creature announcing to the human race that he was alive? This thing had so much power that it tore the very fabric of space around the morgue. We lost a whole team of men sent into the debris for survivors shortly after the explosion; we’ve not heard from them in months.”

  “You still haven’t answered my question General: why me?”

  Patterson stared silently out the window in silence for a few moments, and then spoke in a very distant voice. “This creature simply woke up, destroyed half the building, grabbed the initial alien subject and disappeared. I need you to track him down and bring him back.”

  “No offense sir, but are you fucking nuts? How the hell am I, a regular human soldier, supposed to drag a creature like what you described, back here?”

  “Major, the data we recovered told of a lynchpin for the human race, a soldier that would rally us to victory and I believe that he is that soldier. We need you to find him and bring him here so we can train him for the day when they arrive.”

  “That’s heavy shit, sir.” Wilson looked exasperated and bewildered.

  “Think about it overnight son and if you decide to do it I’ll introduce you to the new team tomorrow. We’ve given you quarters in room 134, just down the hall. Mess hall is on the floor below. Be here at 06:00 and let me know which way you’d like to proceed.”

  Wilson left the conference room and slowly made his way down the hall. He had always felt like a larger-than-life person, but after hearing the general he felt small and meaningless. But a soldier’s life was about adapting to change and he felt obligated to try—the question was, how could anyone be expected to adapt to this?

  Bristol County, Massachusetts

  Digging through the stacks of old papers, Sara hummed an old tune to herself to keep her focused. It was her day off from the news agency, but she was determined to make more headway on her side project. Her boss had given her permission to research the blast that killed her father, but only on her time off. So every chance she got, Sara would dig in the archives to find more information about the one event that derailed her perfect life.

  Every article that referenced the incident was neatly placed in her folder or copied to her flash drive and swiftly whisked back to her basement suite at her mom’s house. Sara had worked the summer as a research assistant at the agency, with the intent to go to school in the fall. But her bosses had noticed her drive and tenacity, offered her a full-time job while arranging for her to attend school through correspondence. It was a hard decision, but one that was made easier by the opportunity to remain with her mother, who had finally begun to move on with her life in the wake of her father’s death.

  So she had converted the basement to an apartment so she could have a place of her own, and paid Krista rent each month to help with the bills. When the place was ready, the two women had moved Sara in and she had a nice tidy little space. At least until Sara’s curiosity had uncovered some irregularities in the reports of her father’s death. They weren’t glaring mistakes, but the slip-ups were noticeable to anyone who knew what they were looking for.

  Analysis of the explosive used were inconsistent, witnesses who saw an ambulance speeding away from the parking complex changed their stories overnight, and evidence of discarded cigarettes had disappeared from the police vault. Most alarming was the fact the authorities wrote all this off as if it never happened, labeled an act of terrorism by Homeland Security. Bullshit! Even her boss had reviewed what she’d found and he too thought something wasn’t right, encouraging her to research it while keeping him in the loop the whole time. There was a story in all this, though he wasn’t ready to put the normal resources towards it.

  The ringing phone brought her head out of the stacks of paper and back to the real world. Sara reached over with a sigh of frustration and picked up the cordless phone on the desk beside her.

  “This is me,” she snarled. “Whatcha need?”

  “Sara, it’s David. You got a minute?” The simple fact that her news editor was calling her caused her to sit up, but there was a tone in his voice that she’d never heard before, as if something serious was about to transpire.

  “Sorry sir, I didn’t realize it was you. I have a moment; what’s wrong?”

  “You can read people well, even over the phone, it’s something I admire about you.” He paused for a moment after the compliment and let out a deep breath. “This project of yours, the story on your father? I think you should drop it; in fact, I have to demand that you drop it. I’m sorry.”

  Her composure fractured with those words, and a rare burst of emotions broke free. “What the hell, David? This isn’t some bullshit obsession, some addiction to the morbid death of a loved one! Something is deeply wrong with all my family has been told and you fucking agreed with me!”

  “Please Sara, drop it; for all our sakes.”

  “What do you mean by that?” this whole conversation seemed wrong to her.

  “I got a call from the Department of Homeland Security this morning—we were informed that there had been some inquiries of a worrisome nature being made into an open investigation of terrorism and they were concerned that evidence could be tampered with.”

  “The government is putting a gag order on us?” She was outraged. “Well I’m not quitting until I get some answers! I want the truth David—my mom and I deserve it!”

  “Sara, they issued a cease-and-desist order. It stops here or else.”

  “Or else what?” Sara almost regretted the question as soon as the words slipped from her mouth.

  “Jail time, criminal record, smear campaigns against you and those you care about; this is the fucking government we’re talking about here, kiddo. They wanted me to fire you, for fuck’s sake!”

  “So,” she asked with a tear slipping from her eye. “Am I fired?” This job had been her dream, one that had been too good to be true.

  “No,” answered David solemnly. “But I am giving you a two week leave of absence to distance yourself from all this. Please do us all a favor and destroy all that shit you’ve collected, it simply isn’t worth it.”

  “David, I just can’t...”

  “You can,” he cut her off quickly, “Or you don’t have a job to come back to—or maybe worse. These people mean business, and they threatened me and my family too. There’s greatness in you kid, but I can’t stick my neck out for you against these people.”

  “And I don’t expect you to. I’ll stop.” She was heartbroken; she was so close to figuring it all out. “Thank you, David. I won’t let you down.”

  “Didn’t think you would Sara, you have a bright future and I’d hate to see you throw it away before you even got to start it. See you in two weeks, and remember to get rid of all that shit you’ve collected!”

  “I will, goodbye, David.” She pressed the off button without waiting for him to reply. Sara sank back in her chair to review what had just happened. Her instincts told her that she was close to something and had those responsible worried, but those same instincts told her that she would be under great scrutiny so it was best to take her boss’s advice and walk away; at least for now. She began to look slowly around the room at the clutter accumulated in her quest for the trut
h. Stacks of papers and files were strewn about, articles had been cut free from newspapers and pinned up almost everywhere, and her laptop screen shone back the summaries she had been listing in vain.

  “Sorry, Dad,” she sobbed to the emptiness in the room. “I tried, but I can’t fight these people! I’m sorry I’m not strong enough!”

  Himalayan Mountains, Mount Kailash, Tibet

  “Caretaker!” he yelled in the dimly lit room, hearing his voice echo in the emptiness. “Time to get to work, I need the results of your tests; I need to know what you can tell me about what exactly I am.” Aen was driven for the first time since his awakening; there were things to do and little time to do them in.

  After a moment of silence, the mechanical voice greeted him at long last. “Sorry Aen, I’ve been monitoring a situation.”

  “What kind of situation?” Aen wondered what was making the construct so cryptic.

  “There has been some data-gathering on your disappearance that has finally been met with threatening actions by those who made you. All files pertaining your current and former self had been flagged for any actions.”

  “And who is behind this data-gathering?”

  “I have hesitated to tell you thus far, but I fear it is only a matter of time before you rush back to them. The one in danger is your daughter, Sara Foster. She has been steadily learning and pushing for more information about the night you were abducted—so much so that the powers that be have now considered her a threat. How much of one remains to be seen.”

  “Fuck, she always needed to know everything!” Aen said with frustration. “How much danger is she in?”

  “Very little right now, providing she heeds the warning levied upon her. But if she continues to pursue…. I fear they will silence her.”

  Those words rocked him; Aaron Foster was dead, but much of him still held his family dearly. Aen sank down into the chair at the center of the room and put his head in his hands, his heart sunken and broken. He wasn’t sure how much time was passing, but he couldn’t gather himself quickly.

  “Monitor her activity,” he said at long last. “I want to know where she goes and what her routines are.”

  “It would be a mistake to go to her, Aen. Those who seek you also watch her and they will use her as bait if they realize you remember who you were. I must advise against it.”

  Aen sat up straight in the chair with a gleam in his eye. “You have a lot to learn about humans, Caretaker. We are a resilient species—tell us we can’t do something and we strive to prove you wrong. Now, fire up that interface, I need combat training and everything you’ve learned about me with your tests.”

  “You have a plan, I assume?” Caretaker responded coldly.

  “Somewhat, but I need your help,” Aen spoke with great urgency. “I need weapons, armor and training in any order you can do it in!”

  “May I ask what this plan of yours is? I may be able to help in planning as my software is suited for...”

  “Just start the damn machine!” Aen interrupted, his patience wearing thin. “Combat training, both human and Lyarran, so I can be better prepared than my enemies. You and your handlers wanted me to become a soldier, so stop being concerned and let’s get on with this!”

  The hum of the neural-interface machine was all the response Aen needed. As the information began to flow into his mind, a strange smile spread over his lips. The military wanted a weapon and here he was becoming that weapon as to strike back at them.

  Rocky Mountains, Utah –

  Military Installation Code Named White Rock

  “Sir, here are the surveillance reports on the subject’s family.” Davis said in her pert and perky voice, as she handed the reports to General Patterson.

  “Anything of note?” he asked nonchalantly, his mind occupied with other things.

  “Nothing sir, even after the cease-and-desist order on her investigation, not a trace of him even attempting to contact them!”

  “And she hasn’t continued on this quest of hers for the truth?”

  “No sir, all inquiries of ceased.”

  “Then close the file on the family and terminate all surveillance; been almost two years and it’s a dead end.” He said as he continued down the hall, leaving her to carry out his orders.

  Susan stood for a moment in quiet contemplation of those orders and thought of the human part of the whole equation. Part of her felt sorry for the poor man’s family and the trauma they had suffered, but she fully understood what was done was for the greater good. A familiar smile found its way back to her face as she rushed off to carry out the orders; bounding happily towards the elevator. At least the family wouldn’t have Uncle Sam looking over their shoulder anymore, she thought to herself as the doors closed.

  Bristol County, Massachusetts

  The sun shone brilliantly in the New England sky as Sara sat on the grass by her father’s headstone. The frustration of the past day and a bit was finally breaking her down emotionally.

  “Dad, those fuckers won’t let me pursue this!” she said with streams of tears pouring from her eyes making her make up smear and run. “What the hell am I supposed to do? Do I just let them win and scare me off?”

  As usual, there was no response save for the birds chirping in the trees just beyond. The wind gusted slightly, but there was no divine intervention, no sign from above.

  “And Mom just told me to back off; she even got mad at me for going this far with it! She called it obsessive behaviour! Can you believe that?” Sara sniffled and pulled a tissue from her purse to dry her eyes, her emotions spent in her rant. She sat quietly and quelled her sobs, composing herself to continue.

  “It’s like the universe doesn’t want me to save you or something. It’s an impossible fight that I can’t win. I’m not strong enough to do this, Dad, I wish I was but I’m not. Maybe Mom is right, I should move on and live my life, but I just can’t walk away from a feeling this wrong! I wish you were here to help me, Dad. I miss you so damn much!”

  “Some things aren’t meant to be.”

  The voice startled her, making her jump to her feet and spin around to find its source. Off to her right, on a bench under an oak tree, sat a tall man, dressed in a modern grey suit. Her eyes quickly sized up this intruder into her weekly solace; he was very tall, seemed to tower even as he remained sitting. His skin was deeply tanned and he wore blacked-out sunglasses. His hair was long and dark but well-kept, and he wore a black overcoat. Everything about him seemed normal, except for the faint odor of ash emanating from him; it was as if he had been around something burning recently.

  “Excuse me,” she said in annoyance. “But could you please mind your own business?”

  “I apologize, child,” the man began as he slowly stood, “I came a long way to visit an old friend, only to be told he moved here.” He said motioning to her father’s tombstone.

  “You knew my father?”

  The man stopped a few steps away from the bench and looked back at Sara. A feeling of familiarity came over her. This stranger had evoked feelings deep inside her. Something about this man was out of place, something about the way he moved was strangely familiar.

  “I knew Aaron Foster well, my dear.” He said after a pause. “His loss is a great one; the world is lesser without his light in it.”

  “Yes, yes it is.” Sara replied, with tears welling up in her eyes, as she turned back to her father’s grave. Sadness once again gripped her as the only thoughts in her mind now were that of her departed dad.

  “I will leave you be,” the man said as he walked away. “There will be time for me to mourn him later.”

  Sara wiped her eyes. She began to feel sorry for being so rude to the man. Who was she to bear sole right to her father’s grave, she wondered? Turning to invite the man back, she surprisingly saw nothing but freshly cut grass and headstones. The cem
etery was empty; the man had disappeared completely!

  “What the hell?” she muttered to herself as she wondered if she had seen a ghost or something. Sara was shaken, but composed herself and gathered her things to make her way home. Her thoughts began to replay the visit with the stranger as was her habit from work. Piece by piece she picked the strange few minutes apart as she tried to figure out who this man was. Sara had known most of her dad’s friends either throughout his life or in his passing and the stranger was not one she had met before.

  The drive home was long—the graveyard was located at the inner part of the city—to the suburbs as she carried on without a sound. The radio played her usual mix from her iPod, but the music played without her voice singing along. It was late afternoon when she pulled into the driveway of her mom’s place and Sara parked the car in her designated spot. She noted that the neighbors finally had their house renovations done, as the big white van was finally gone from across the street. She wondered to herself if there would be an invite to see the finished project as her key slipped in her door to unlock the basement suite entrance.

  As she settled into her suite, the strangeness of the day faded and she began her ongoing chore of cleaning up the mess of research papers and clippings from the day her dad had died. Slowly she was doing as she had been instructed to do and was ending her investigation. There were too many questions, too many loose ends that needed to be tied up for her to put her mind at rest.

  Yes, Sara was putting it all aside, but she was never going to let it rest. She would wait for the heat to die down and then a little longer to be sure before she would resume her queries. Time was on her side and for this she had learn that patience would be her best and most valuable ally. Someday she would have her answers; someday she would have closure from this horrific tragedy. But for now, she would play the part of the good girl and do as she was told. For now.

  Highbury, England

  It had been raining for three straight days in the London suburb and Wilson and his team were soaked to the bone, but only the Major seemed to care. He and his team of hybrids had settled in for an ambush, after tips about a strange man fitting the last description of Subject 54 had filtered in to command. So he had the nine spread out in a net around the cottage at the outskirts of town and waited. Frustration began to grow in him; all he wanted was to be back at the base and in warm, dry clothes.