December 22, 1996
Area 51, Nevada, USA
For Morgan, it was as if the light which had blinded him for a few seconds was now fading. He felt ill, nauseous. Alarms and alerts seemed to echo in parts of his mind. Looking at the observation booth's large mirrored window, he saw himself and his mouth opened. His visual field rippled, and suddenly he was looking through the mirrored layer of the reflective glass and could clearly see the cameras behind it. It expanded further, widening and shifting focus as it methodically scanned his surroundings. He could see through every wall and every substance, and his vision stretched out for miles around before returning to normal. His body had slowly turned, but his feet had not moved. When he could see himself again, he saw that he was hovering above a pit. A source of light behind him faded, and some of the noise in his mind stopped.
Trickles of memory drifted through his thoughts. Memories of pain and damage. Of adaptation and of need, confusion and consent. He remembered being in another place, and almost being another person. He was still severely damaged and needed more time to finish healing. The fusion was still incomplete.
::Fusion?:: he wondered. ::Where did that notion come from?::
He took a good long look at his skin, holding his hand up to his eyes. It was coated in the same organic metal as the ship had been. It covered every inch of his body like a second skin, as if his naked body had been painted with it. He touched himself, and found his sense of touch amplified to an incredible degree. At that moment, he realized that it was no coating, but had become a part of his body.
"Oh, my God," he said.
Inside the operations center, Jackson gaped. "It's trying to speak! Maybe it can -talk-! What is it??"
Still on the telephone, the Project Director knew the voice as soon as he heard it. His hand clenched around the receiver and his other hand reached for the communications panel the telephone was mounted into.
"Security Team to Vault Seven," he said. "Full containment."
The scientists in the room were transfixed by the event, and watched as the floating figure examined itself. Its sliver eyes blinked and stared at the mirror of the observation booth, and its hands moved over its body. It was hairless but otherwised mimicked a human male in outstanding physical condition. Like an animated statue carved from living metal, it flexed sculpted muscles and slowly moved about the room.
"Hello?" it asked. "Jack?
"How does it know my name?" Jackson asked.
"Should we answer?" asked the lead tech. "This is an invaluable opportunity."
"No," the Project Director replied.
"But this lifeform is not just from anther place, it's from an entirely different dimension. It -wants- to communicate. This goes way beyond cool. It must have come through the breach."
"I hope it isn't pissed," said Jackson.
"There is to be -no- contact. Is that clear? We have to contain it first."
The scientists and technicians were stunned. Here was the opportunity of a lifetime, and this government ass was going to blow it for all of them. They were so stunned that they did not react when he opened a locked safety cover and pressed the large red button beneath it. A large digital counter appeared on the main monitor, displaying a fifteen minute count which immediately began to move towards zero.
Throughout the structure, all of the heavy blast doors began to close. The lead tech blinked and looked at the PD. He tore his eyes away from the large numbers to stare at the man who was again reaching for his cigarettes.
"You've activated the firebreak system for Vault Seven! Why??"
"Containment protocols." "You're going to destroy it! What kind of 'protocol' is that?"
"The kind listed under 'National Security'."
With that, he walked from the command center and closed the door behind it. Pausing by the guard at the door, he said, "Secure the command center. No one in or out without my express authorization."
"Yes, Sir! I'll get a detail down here immediately."
Morgan's feet tingled as they touched down on the floor by the heavy main door. He was still very confused, but he knew where he was. The door's red SECURE sign was on, meaning that massive steel rods inside the door held it fast. He stepped back and looked at the observation booth window. His hand snapped out on its own, striking the glass and shattering it. He jumped through the empty frame and looked at the array of audio and video equipment. He picked up the obeservation room's phone receiver and listened.
"Hello, Central Switching, how may I direct your call?" asked a voice.
"Give me the Project Director for Section Seven."
"I'm sorry, the Director is unavailable. That section is under security lockdown. Would you care to leave a message?"
"Perhaps later. Thank you, Central."
Morgan dropped the receiver back onto its hook and looked at the video equipment. It took him seconds to figure out how to operate it, and he rewound the video tapes and played them back. He saw the device, and the detonation which ripped a hole in space itself. When he noticed the timecode on the tapes, he staggered back into the wall. It was ten years to the day since he'd first entered the lab.
"That ... that can't be right."
He watched the scene unfold, with the first camera burning out and the backup camera coming up. He saw himself floating in front of the vortex created by the device, hanging in the air where he had not been before the breach. With fascination, he watched the tendrils of energy being drawn into his body. More memories came into his mind, places of another space, and compromises where none should have been possible. These impressions made him think, and he was still watching and thinking when he heard the sound of the containment door being opened.
He put his hands up over his head, lacing his fingers. In his mind, the memory of the mushroom cloud icon was becoming increasingly sharp, replaying itself over and over in his thoughts like some kind of warning. The vault door opened just enough to admit a single man, and rather than enter, that man raised some kind of high-tech weapon to his shoulder and fired. The rifle emitted a high whining sound, and Morgan saw something approaching him. Time around him seemed to slow, as he saw the projectile. A glowing line imposed itself into his vison, tracing and projecting the trajectory of the object. Without knowing how he knew, he understood that the hyperaccelerated aluminum slug posed no danger. He also knew the particulars of the projectile. Its mass, density, velocity, and various other factors presented themselves to his mind, and he could only stand there A glowing energy field surrounded him, and the projectile flattened as it struck the energy barrier. In his field of vision, the projectile had been the only thing moving. Time resumed its normal pace and he saw the gun charging for a second shot.
"Wait," he said. "I am Major Morg--"
Another round was fired towards him, and again his body and mind shifted automatically into higher gear. His fingers unlaced and he saw his left hand point toward the guard's weapon. Pain lanced through him and he knew whatever was supposed to have happened, hadn't. He stepped forward and leapt over the guard. His body manipulated itself, twisting even as it moved through the air. He felt the kick of some kind of force, and he was propelled through the gap between the now-closing door.and its reinforced frame.
There were six other guards with similar weapons, and their aluminum ordinance flattened against his field before falling spent to the floor. In his mind's eye, the mushroom cloud icon appeared, blinking steadily. He concentrated on it, and his head and body twisted to reorient himself, yet still continued to slide through the corridor and away from Vault Seven. His strange vision peeled away the layers of matter, penetrating them as if they were clear glass until he saw the buried device. Whatever was feeding him information revealed the capabilities of the nuclear device just as it had the strange aluminum rounds. Just forty kilotons, but enough to melt the lab completely. Numbers accompanied that knowledge, informing him of the countdown.
------------------
In the monitoring chamber for Section Five, which handled geological and metallurgy research, a technician did a double take as several of the readouts suddenly changed.
"What the--"
His partner on this shift moved to check his own console. "I've got it too--some sort of particle emissions from Vault Seven. What're they doing over there? We'll have to evacuate if this keeps up, but let's give it a couple of minutes before we hit the panic button."
The first tech nodded. "Damn Special Projects section. They're always screwing up our equipment with that high-energy research shit. We should requisition more shielding for the section."
"Admin would sooner shut us down than change our budget. Let's just keep working."
He looked at the bright red mushroom on the wall by the door. "The button's right there if we want to use it."
So the two techs continued with their work. The interferences from Vault Seven continued to increase with each passing second. A slight wave of nausea rolled through both technicians.
"Radiation?" he asked.
His partner checked a gauge. "Negative. It's got to be that stuff from Vault Seven. I'm hitting the button."
"Go for it, man. I think I'm gonna puke."
The tech was reaching for the alarm, when the readings abruptly dropped to zero. The nausea passed within seconds. The balance of the other monitors returned to their normal levels. Most of them, anyway. One, the internal monitor on Lab Two, did not.
"Whatever happened in Vault Seven's stopped--but we've got something in the meteorite lab. It's the 'casket'. That rock that's been lying there since God only knows when.."
The second tech reached for the internal phone and dialed.
"This is Edison in Section Five Control--put me through to the Director.."
A moment later. "Sir what's the situation over there?" There was a pause, then, "Fine. Don't tell me. Though you might be interested to know that whatever it is it's set things off in here. That meteorite in Lab Two--it just started glowing..."
Silence. "We...we'll do that, Sir. I'll get back to you.."
He hung up the phone and nodded to the second tech, they raced for the lab--by the time they reached it, the 'meteorite',, or whatever it was, was no longer just glowing it was *cracking*...splitting open even as a lightshow played out around it.
The techs hung back behind the radiation shield they'd hurriedly dropped into place and tried to figure out what was happening. Their scanners and monitors were almost off the scale with readings that made little or no sense. Whatever was inside it was radiating enough heat to melt the casing around it, yet they felt none of it. In fact, the room seemed to chill around them.
"Something's .... moving."
* * *
Melissa awakened to find herself lying on...no, in...something like molten, cherry-colored wax.. Her eyes opened and she saw two men standing behind some kind of heavy glass shield, looking alternatingly at her and the control panel before them.
::Where am I?:: she wondered. ::What's going on?::
She felt so strange. Her body felt -different- in a way she couldn't identify. There was a feeling of power--incredible power, and with it came a feeling of unaccustomed lightness. What did it mean? She glanced down at herself, even as she struggled to sort out the confusion in her mind.
This thing around her looked like rock, but didn't feel like it, it *flowed* in a way rock didn't, that is not unless it was molten. But then how could she be lying in the middle of it? It felt warm, but it wasn't burning her--why?
She started to sit up, her hands sinking into the semi-solid substance beneath her. Freeing herself, she climbed to her feet even as more of the stuff swirled around her legs.
There was a light fixture overhead, but why was it so -bright-? A hand went up to shield her eyes.
That was when she saw the silvery whiteness there. Looking at her hands, then downward at her body, which was coated with--touching, she felt smooth slickness that almost reminded her of metal and yet skin, both at once. That simple touch felt electric.
Her mouth dropped open as the jumbled memories began to sort themselves out. Scott--this was Scott's doing. He'd said he would make her like him, and evidently he had. Where was he, though?
She looked up just in time to see the white coated men vanish through the door. A moment later a red light started flashing over it and a piercing shrieking sound assailed her ears. Her hands went over her ears trying to block, or at least muffle, the noise.
Climbing free of the rocklike mass, she ran to the door the men had used and tried to open it.
The cacophony of sound was almost unbearable. She had to get out of here, get away from it. In desperation she jerked at the door once, twice, a third time, really hard--and to her surprise it tore free of its frame with a shrieking that sent daggers through her already strained ears.
As that echo faded she thought she could hear voices, and rapid pounding that was getting closer, not to mention making the floor vibrate beneath her.
Part of her mind wondered how she'd managed that, how was she hearing, feeling all this, even as she ran through the opening just looking to escape.
She emerged into the corridor to see who was coming this way--and saw armed, uniformed men.
What in the world was this? She'd thought this lab was in some sort of hospital. These guys looked like soldiers, though, not doctors--and they couldn't be pointing those rifles at -her- could they?
"Don't shoot--please--" her hands went up in surrender. An instant later, the corridor exploded with the rattle of gunfire.
Closing her eyes almost instinctively at the first burst, she expected to feel herself being ripped apart an instant later. Something hit her, but there was no pain like she'd expected. It felt like snowflakes hitting her. A moment passed, then another. Opening her eyes again, she realized there wasn't so much as a mark on her. Looking down, she saw several small metal objects lying around--could those be bullets? That wasn't *possible*, was it?
Before she could think further--
One of the men shooting at her, red faced from running and excitement, shouted into a walkie talkie. "Damn it! Get that Eraser team up here NOW! We should've used them to start with!!"
------------------
Inside the corridor, he felt a flareup of energy at a distance. Within him, some kind of siphon activated, drawing the energy into him even as he moved toward its source. He detected more guards coming, looking through the walls to spot what his sharp ears heard. He had to get out, and find someone to explain the situation to. It was clear that they thought he was some kind of intruder, but what he really wanted to know was where his ten years had gone.
He had to do it inside of five minutes and fifteen seconds. After that, the nuke's timer would lapse, and there would be no one to question.
Morgan wound his way through the corridors, heading towards the source of the energy buildup. Flying seemed second-nature to him, but he was aware of the complex system of fields which allowed it. His movement carried his swiftly.up to a group of guards firing at a young girl, who was also the source of the energy buildup. Small wonder they thought they were being invaded!
"Atten-shun!" he shouted, landing behind them.
The men turned as one, lowering their rifles and raising their arms to salute him.
"Major Morgan Parafaith, assigned to Special Projects. Who is--"
He was able to say that much before they raised their weapons again and opened fire. His defensive field blazed with gold light and the spent rounds fell to the floor, drained of their kinetic energy.
"Cease fire!" he yelled. "Or I'll have you all standing tall before the Man!"
To his surprise, the soldiers stopped firing. He walked up to the ranking Sergeant and looked him up and down. "Trigger happy son-of-a-bitch. What are your orders, Sergeant?"
"To secure the facility... Sir?"
"I told you I'm from Special Projects. Give me your radio."
The trooper handed over his radio and looked back at Melissa. "Is she...?"
"The situation is under control," Morgan replied. "Return to your duty stations."
The troopers left, clearly relieved that some kind of order had come that would get them away from the serious weirdness they were encountering. Morgan raised the walkie-talkie to his lips as he walked towards Melissa. "Attention, all personnel. The nuclear failsafe for Vault Seven has been activated. Proceed to emergency shelters immediately. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill."
Lowering the radio to his side, he stopped two meters away from Melissa. "Now just who are you, young lady?"
Before she could answer, the radio crackled in his hands. "All Eraser teams, this is General Montgomery. Be on the lookout for a pair of metal-sheathed EBEs. One is black, the other silver. The use of lethal force is hereby authorized and approved. All other units proceed to the emergency shelters immediately."
"Oh, great!" He looked at Melissa with complete seriousness. "I'm headed for the nearest exit. I think you'd better come with me."
"I'm not going to argue." she glanced back towards the soldiers, then at the black metal figure. "Scott, how did we get here--what *happened*?" If Scott could turn human, why couldn't he make himself look like this, too? "I mean, Morgan, or whatever you're calling yourself now."
She moved to follow Scott/Morgan...
Morgan gave her an unreadable look. He had no idea what she was talking about. A number of possibilities came to his mind but he put them aside, focusing more on their survival and less on the hows and whys.
"My name is Morgan. Can you fly?" he asked, lifting into the air. "We don't have a lot of time."
Melissa wasn't sure. She hadn't actually -seen- Scott flying, but he had come from outer space, so his being able to do that made sense. And if she was now what he'd been, it followed she should have the same abilities. How to do it, though--that odd feeling of lightness, was that what that meant? And why was he acting like he didn't know her? That'd be something to figure out later, right now they had to get out of here.
She concentrated on that feeling, not really sure what would happen--or even if anything would.
A moment later she found herself rising slowly off the ground, to 'float' alongside him.
Morgan rose and pushed open a ventilation duct. From his earlier reorientation, he knew all of the twists and turns of the ductwork, including the location of all of the motion sensors and laser tripwires installed in them.
"This is the easiest way, and even this way isn't going to be easy. Come on."
She nodded and maneuvered to follow him. She wasn't sure how she was doing it, but already it was beginning to seem natural. That, too, only made sense. Though she had a million questions this wasn't the time for them.
The ducting was a meter wide, and couldn't be traveled quickly, but it did allow them to move silently over the heads of the guard squads who were looking for them. He traveled in silence for a good five minutes as they wended their way through the network of metal tunnels. As they progressed towards the heart of the system, the force of the air around them increased. The feeling of it flowing over his skin was exhilarating, but it tore away the jacket around his waist, sending it flying back in the direction they came, its buttons banging loudly against the metal walls.
"Damn! Now they're going to know where we are!"
At last they reached the main air circulator, where massive fans spun at high speed. He hadn't had any trouble navigating through the near-gale force winds, and was glad to see that his traveling companion moved through it with equal ease.
The roar was deafening, even with his hearing dampened. They had to stop the fans so that they could get through the blades and out.
Melissa managed to keep flying, she had to, but the racket the fans were making was almost as bad as those alarms back there had been.
There was still the way everything seemed so much brighter, the light, the colors of things around her...and as the wind moved over her body she found herself almost reveling at the intensity of the sensations.
A targeting reticule locked onto the main power conduit for the massive motors. He thought instead about the way he'd absorbed energy before, and the reticule vanished.
Melissa saw a coruscating electric arc jump from a thick metal conduit to touch Morgan's body. It traveled up and down along his side, roaming his surface like the finger of a caressing lover. Ahead of them, the turbines slowed and stopped as they lost power.
"Exhilarating," said Morgan, as he wrenched one of the safety gratings free. "Just one more grate and we'll be able to reach the surface."
Just then, the mushroom cloud in his field of vision began to replicate. Two, then four, then eight, then sixteen floated in his vision. All of them were counting down from five minutes.
"Oh, Christ," he said. "We have to get out of here -now-. Whoever's running this place is absolutely mad. Can you ... shoot a hole in that last grate big enough for us to get through?"
"You must really have forgotten a lot." she replied. There wasn't -time- to figure out what was wrong with Scott, though. The fact remained she didn't know how to use what he'd given her yet, and if he wasn't going to be able to teach her--well, she'd just have to try. She reached for that energy, that raw power, and not really knowing how, 'pushed' it at the grate..."You're the expert on this but here goes..."
::Expert?:: he thought.
An instant later a bolt of brilliant white light leapt from her outstretched hand to the grate, which came obediently apart where the energy had struck it. It arced up, came back down, and struck Morgan squarely in the chest as if drawn to it and into it.
"You have to go through first," he said, hardly noticing the energy stream's effect on him. "When I go through, the fans will get their energy back."
"All right." she nodded. Though the way he was acting still wasn't making sense, they had to get out of here first, she could sort this out with him later. "I'm just glad you haven't -completely- forgotten..."
Then they were through, and Morgan took her hand. "I don't want to lose you now that we're this close. That was some blast. I think I can do something like it, once I get myself sorted out. I can't do too much just now, but I'm working on it ... I think."
Her eyes widened as he took her hand. Maybe he was -starting- to remember some things? She met his eyes. "Scott--" she whispered. "Just tell me you know me...please? Or...or maybe you'll remember this." She leaned forward and kissed him.
Morgan was caught completely off-guard by the kiss. Not only by its source, but by the sheer sensation of her lips against his. His arms moved around her and he drew her closer, their bodies pressing against each other. Part of his mind seemed to be measuring temperature, pliability, and other factors, but the part of him which was most familiar was enjoying the feelings. They lost precious seconds, nearly a full minute's worth, before his brain caught up to his body, which was promptly responding to the potent stimuli.
All he could say was, "Wow."
The sensations that nearly overwhelmed Melissa as she clung to him were beyond description. She'd kissed Scott before, and enjoyed that...but this...this wasn't just wonderful, this was...*magic*. She made it last as long as she could, then drew back to gaze into the strange silver eyes and search for some sign that he was starting to remember. "Does that bring anything back?" she asked, as she let him draw her along.
Thinking about the kiss, he knew that he wouldn't mind doing that again as many times as she wanted, but both of them had problems requiring immediate action. His mind back on their flight from what might well have been certain destruction, Morgan did not reply, although her question brought with it a multitude of his own. He remembered someone with red hair, and wondered if the woman with him had been that woman before whatever had happened to change them into what they now were.
Holding her hand firmly, Morgan flew straight through the center of the main air intake shaft. It was ten meters across and now where the air had pushed at them before, it pulled at them now. The fan blades began to turn again, and the suction was hungry. He wasn't sure if he could absorb a nuclear blast or not, let alone sixteen of them, so he was not eager to try. He tried not to think of all of the people he was leaving behind. Maybe the shelters would be strong enough, but against the force of sixteen simultaneous detonations, he doubted it.
Ahead of them was the top of the main shaft, and it was capped by what looked like a heavy slab of vented reinforced concrete. The travel had taken them almost three minutes, and their clock was running down fast. He stopped just beneath it and inspected it. The vent were just wide enough... for her.
"Squeeze through there," he said, pointing toward one of the long, narrow slots. "Then fly either straight up or south quickly."
Melissa squeezed his hand, then slid through the nearest of the slots Morgan had indicated, flying straight up once she'd reached open air. Not being certain of how far away would be safe enough, she concentrated on putting as much distance between herself and the installation as she could in the shortest time possible.
It was almost like her body knew what to do, even though she herself was still uncertain. Her arms rose over her head and she shot directly upwards much like the rockets she remembered seeing on TV back home--though no rocket had moved as *easily* as she was now doing.
Rising higher and still higher, she glanced downward briefly to see the land far beneath her, buildings, desert, mountains, all shrunk down to almost doll size now and getting smaller as she moved upwards.
Then she looked above her--and saw the twisting, scintillating web of colors above, glowing irridescently--what could that be...oh, yes, the Van Allen belt, she remembered reading about that. Though that would mean she was almost out of the atmosphere...something in her surged almost impatiently and with a quick burst she was through them and beyond.
The blackness of the void opened up before her, only it wasn't entirely black. Far away she could see the lights of the distant stars, which weren't twinkling now, with no atmosphere to distort them.
Melissa hung there, staring. The sight was too incredible. She'd seen pictures from the orbiter missions, of course, but those--those had been nothing like this.
So many stars...so many. And how many of them had worlds around them? Worlds like Earth--or not. Worlds of creatures of every conceivable shape and color and form.
As much as she wanted to, she couldn't leave now--not without Scott. Something was wrong with him, there had to be. He acted like he didn't know anything about her...where was he now, anyway?
Turning back towards the Earth, she looked down at its surface, all swirl-striped in blue and white. This sight would also have taken her breath away, if she had still been breathing.
------------
Morgan put both hands on the concrete cap and tried to lift it. Pressure feedback told him that the concrete and steel cap weighed in excess of one hundred and fifty tons. It might have been anchored. He wasn't sure, and didn't take the time to look.
Concentrating on lift, he felt his body grow rigid as the pressure increased. Just from the energy he felt pushing him, he knew that he'd be able to fly incredibly fast when there weren't humongous concrete slabs in his way. At the thirty second mark, his body suddenly altered itself. After the alteration, he looked as if he were Atlas trying to carry the world on his shoulders, his arms outstretched and his shoulders pressing against the slab, but he hadn't moved so much as he had - flowed - into that position.
Now able to look down, he saw a blue-green energy field around his feet. He was generating more thrust that the old Saturn V rockets before he felt the cap budge. His body was compressing the concrete, driving itself up into the slab.
"Come on," he said. "MOVE!"
The blue green energy shifted toward the blue and nearly doubled in brightness. He felt the concrete above him trembling. There were fifteen seconds left. At ten seconds there came a series of loud, cracking reports, as the anchoring pylons snapped. The concrete groaned as it began to rise, complaining about being disturbed from its place of rest.
At five seconds, the gap was large enough to fit through, and his thrust vector abruptly shifted. The concrete scraped against his back and began to fall back down as he skated across it and flew out through the gap faster than any man-made object had ever traveled on Earth.
The atmosphere blazed around him as he shot up and towards the south, a shooting star returning to its home in the heavens. He left sound behind in the first quarter of a second, and his body straightened into a much more aerodynamic pose, like a swimmer diving into the deeps. By the time he could start slowing down, he was above the atmosphere, looking down at the world below. The sight of it struck him dumb.
Stretching out below him, a long white ribbon marked the path of his passage. His eyes watched as the planet slowly turned beneath him, and sixteen small stars blossomed with temporary life. A shiver passed through his spine when he thought about the people who had just been killed. To his left and his right, he could see the curve of the world.
::I wonder who's going to get the blame for that one,:: he thought. ::Yours truly, that's who. What -happened- to me?::
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
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