Colonel Taylor and Major Young, sat by the radio, wondering what was happening across the rise. Neither had any idea whether or not the EB-P would really work. They'd never had a captured Skin or appropriate experimental animal upon which to test it.
The crews of the big 155mm howitzers were exhausted, first from getting the missiles off, then from getting the big guns ready to fire those four rounds, but as the seconds went on with no word from the radio, the crews began laboriously pulling high explosive projectiles and additional charges out of the storage trailers.
Suddenly the radio cracked to life.
Max had been sitting there...physically spent and emotionally drained, for several moments. There was a small mound of empty uniforms in the dry creekbed, with dust blowing slowly off from them. Looking up in the air, the sky was gradually clearing as the white powder fled to the four winds. Looking out at the small valley beyond the creekbed, he could see hundreds of vehicles...many idling quietly, with dusty uniforms on the ground beside them or even collapsed halfway out the driver window in a macabre parody of what only minutes before had been living beings. Max was stunned....this wasn't an outcome he could have ever foreseen.
"Liberty Actual, Justice Actual, we anticipate being at your location in seven...repeat seven minutes. If you hear this and can acknowledge...or even if you can't...hang on Max."
Max stumbled to the radio, half covered by a uniform and the dust that had once inhabited it, and keyed the mike.
"Justice Actu... Hey Bryan. Don't get any speeding tickets getting here, it looks like it's all over....and I guess we won. I'll meet you back at the silos in fifteen minutes or so..."
"Max? Don't be crazy, we'll come pick you up..."
"Hey, I've got my choice of vehicles...transportation is definitely NOT a problem. I'll meet you back at the silos."
"Justice Actual copies....I'll be anxious to see you, buddy. Don't keep us waiting, OK? Oh and put a white flag or something on the vehicle you drive...no sense someone getting trigger happy."
"Liberty Actual copies all.."
Back at the silos Major Young shook the hand of Colonel Taylor while exhausted artillerymen dropped in their tracks.
"I'm definitely too old for this shit.." said Taylor to the Major. "This time I'm retiring and staying retired."
The Major...despite being a devout Mormon who would not normally have said shit if he were neck deep in it, grinned back at the Colonel.
"I'm too old for this shit too, sir. I think maybe we all are..."
Back in the creekbed Max was numb as he walked slowly up the creekbed. The emptiness of the place...despite the vehicles and weapons littering the landscape gave the place a surreal nature...almost like he was walking in a dream. And that wasn't helped by the IFV burning wildly at one end of the creekbed or the dozens of engines idling quietly at the other end. He had trouble concentrating...trouble really believing what had happened as he stumbled along only half noticing that his feet would occasionally stumble over an empty uniform or a dropped weapon.
But when the command IFV crested the ridge and it's nose tipped down toward him, his attention was brought instantly back to reality. And when the hatch underneath the fifty caliber machine gun opened and a figure suddenly appeared in a gas mask looking down at him through the sights of the lethal weapon, Max had no trouble focusing.
'Well Max,' he told himself, '...you might not make it through this battle after all...'
EOTW II (CC Max POV) Mature complete
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Zata looked down at the hybrid. Tafor had been wrong, he knew…the Earthlings would not have traded away their fight against the Skins simply for the hybrid, even if he did have the seal of Antar. It would have meant little to them. And he rather doubted as he looked down over the sights of the M-2 machinegun that the man would have allowed it in any event. There was no fear in the eyes that looked up at him…not a bit. But his rank alone spoke that he was an important person in the depleted military that was left after the war of attrition that raged between the two sides…the war that this day had gone disastrously bad for the Skins. But Zata knew there was one thing he could yet do…that he was obligated to do…in memory of his troops…and for their loved ones back on the homeworld.
“I killed you once before,” Zata shouted, his voice sounding tinny through the voice emitter of the gas mask. “… or at least the Antarean from whose DNA you were created. Zan was a useless parasite of a man, incompetent…carrying only about himself and the small circle of Royals that ruled Antar. He deserved his ignoble death.”
Max had looked up as the IFV crested the hill and found himself spent both physically and emotionally. As the man had come up behind the machinegun, he found he really didn’t even care. The hatred that had burned in him for these years had been sated…at least temporarily, by the carnage that he had witnessed….5000 beings dying in only a few hours…and who knew how many more by the missiles that had been fired…even the bloodlust that her death had caused him had needed to take pause. But that left him only the emptiness of her loss. Perhaps the Earth would survive, if the missiles had done their job, perhaps not. But either way, it wouldn’t bring her back, and even in this was victory that meant that all he had was the memory of what he’d lost, and the knowledge that everything he’d done…everything future Max had done, had played no part in the real victory this day. The missiles had been fired before he’d ever engaged this Skins force, and the carnage here, however important it might be to those few people to the west who perhaps had actually won the war, had been meaningless in the effort to save the world. And with his bloodlust slaked by five thousand deaths, Max looked up at the Overseer unafraid. That one too would soon be dead…either of the white powder, or from Bryan’s force if he tried a solo attack on the silos. Max couldn’t spare the emotion to even hate the Skin….he simply wanted it to be over….
Zata looked down at the hybrid…wishing he could see some trace of fear or anger ….or just of life in those amber eyes. But there was none.
‘Have we hurt you so badly, hybrid, have we so torn away the people and the things you love, the ones that made you the person that you are, that you have lost the capacity to feel? I hope not. I have read in your books of your Kamikazes, ..your berserkers, your anger and hatred that let you use nuclear weapons against your enemies, and if that is all that is left of you….just that anger, hybrid, I fear there is no hope for my people….not for the leaders who planned your genocide who deserve your wrath, but not for the commoners either…who did not start or want this war.’
“…but you are not the vain and useless parasite than Zan was….you have put your life between danger and your troops in a way he would never have done. You have done better with this life than your last…while I have grown old and was too slow to attack the people who were truly my enemies…the people who caused this … this calamity.”
Zata looked out at the battlefield, the dust blowing away from the uniforms, before continuing.
“These were good men…they deserved better leaders, but just as I killed you seventy years ago, today you have killed them ..and me.” Zata’s left hand went to the gas mask and slipped it from his face.
“Perhaps in the next life….we would do better to try being friends…” The pain started almost immediately, but he held the salute …not sure that the hybrid could be convinced that they shared a basic commonality...what he would call humanity…until he saw the salute returned. Only then did he allow himself to die….
Max returned the salute without thinking, and he held it as Zata’s eyes went wide with pain…as he appeared to crumple, and as the uniform settled down over the machinegun while the Missouri winds blew away the dust that had once been Overseer Zata.
Max looked up with tears in his eyes. In the end, he couldn’t hate the Skins…at least not all of them. There was too much honor in Zata to condemn a whole race for the actions of their leaders. But in its own way, that even made it worse. Now he didn’t even have the hatred of the Skins to fill his mind… just the pain of his emptiness. He was only now realizing how much he had wanted to not survive this day.
Max walked up to the idling IFV and got in. He had to rummage around for awhile to find a white cloth to affix to the antenna, but in twenty minutes he was on his way toward the silos.
Four hours and forty-two minutes later…
Paris-Orly Airport, Paris France
The Gulfstream V had been cleared for approach, but it sounded like there was some kind of chaos going on in Paris Center. Of course, French air traffic control was always somewhat of a nightmare, but the pilot of the Gulfstream thought to himself that the last of the humans would soon be gone, and he wasn’t sure that Skins controllers would do any better. He was, in fact, more concerned that he had yet to be contacted by Varnata. Kivar was already in an even more hellish mood than usual. And if he were kept waiting at the airport, there would be particular hell to pay.
“Gulfstream F-GFIB, Fly heading 220 degress….maintain 3600 feet until established on the localizer. Orly approach clears you for the ILS 26 approach. Contact the tower passing the outer marker.”
The pilot lowered the gear and flaps as he configured the aircraft for approach. Passing 5000 feet the engines pulled in a trivial amount of white dust…invisible in the otherwise clear air. But the air conditioning was powered by bleed air off the first stage compressor, and the white dust was quickly vented in to the cabin. The pilot and copilot heard the screams first…coming from the cabin where Kivar and his personal bodyguard were seated….then their own skin felt like fire.
On the radar screen at Orly approach, the controller saw the Gulfstream appear to pitch up briefly…then descended abruptly in what could only have been a near-vertical dive. It struck the ground almost nine miles east of the airport. He instantly dispatched emergency vehicles, but they would find no survivors….
“I killed you once before,” Zata shouted, his voice sounding tinny through the voice emitter of the gas mask. “… or at least the Antarean from whose DNA you were created. Zan was a useless parasite of a man, incompetent…carrying only about himself and the small circle of Royals that ruled Antar. He deserved his ignoble death.”
Max had looked up as the IFV crested the hill and found himself spent both physically and emotionally. As the man had come up behind the machinegun, he found he really didn’t even care. The hatred that had burned in him for these years had been sated…at least temporarily, by the carnage that he had witnessed….5000 beings dying in only a few hours…and who knew how many more by the missiles that had been fired…even the bloodlust that her death had caused him had needed to take pause. But that left him only the emptiness of her loss. Perhaps the Earth would survive, if the missiles had done their job, perhaps not. But either way, it wouldn’t bring her back, and even in this was victory that meant that all he had was the memory of what he’d lost, and the knowledge that everything he’d done…everything future Max had done, had played no part in the real victory this day. The missiles had been fired before he’d ever engaged this Skins force, and the carnage here, however important it might be to those few people to the west who perhaps had actually won the war, had been meaningless in the effort to save the world. And with his bloodlust slaked by five thousand deaths, Max looked up at the Overseer unafraid. That one too would soon be dead…either of the white powder, or from Bryan’s force if he tried a solo attack on the silos. Max couldn’t spare the emotion to even hate the Skin….he simply wanted it to be over….
Zata looked down at the hybrid…wishing he could see some trace of fear or anger ….or just of life in those amber eyes. But there was none.
‘Have we hurt you so badly, hybrid, have we so torn away the people and the things you love, the ones that made you the person that you are, that you have lost the capacity to feel? I hope not. I have read in your books of your Kamikazes, ..your berserkers, your anger and hatred that let you use nuclear weapons against your enemies, and if that is all that is left of you….just that anger, hybrid, I fear there is no hope for my people….not for the leaders who planned your genocide who deserve your wrath, but not for the commoners either…who did not start or want this war.’
“…but you are not the vain and useless parasite than Zan was….you have put your life between danger and your troops in a way he would never have done. You have done better with this life than your last…while I have grown old and was too slow to attack the people who were truly my enemies…the people who caused this … this calamity.”
Zata looked out at the battlefield, the dust blowing away from the uniforms, before continuing.
“These were good men…they deserved better leaders, but just as I killed you seventy years ago, today you have killed them ..and me.” Zata’s left hand went to the gas mask and slipped it from his face.
“Perhaps in the next life….we would do better to try being friends…” The pain started almost immediately, but he held the salute …not sure that the hybrid could be convinced that they shared a basic commonality...what he would call humanity…until he saw the salute returned. Only then did he allow himself to die….
Max returned the salute without thinking, and he held it as Zata’s eyes went wide with pain…as he appeared to crumple, and as the uniform settled down over the machinegun while the Missouri winds blew away the dust that had once been Overseer Zata.
Max looked up with tears in his eyes. In the end, he couldn’t hate the Skins…at least not all of them. There was too much honor in Zata to condemn a whole race for the actions of their leaders. But in its own way, that even made it worse. Now he didn’t even have the hatred of the Skins to fill his mind… just the pain of his emptiness. He was only now realizing how much he had wanted to not survive this day.
Max walked up to the idling IFV and got in. He had to rummage around for awhile to find a white cloth to affix to the antenna, but in twenty minutes he was on his way toward the silos.
Four hours and forty-two minutes later…
Paris-Orly Airport, Paris France
The Gulfstream V had been cleared for approach, but it sounded like there was some kind of chaos going on in Paris Center. Of course, French air traffic control was always somewhat of a nightmare, but the pilot of the Gulfstream thought to himself that the last of the humans would soon be gone, and he wasn’t sure that Skins controllers would do any better. He was, in fact, more concerned that he had yet to be contacted by Varnata. Kivar was already in an even more hellish mood than usual. And if he were kept waiting at the airport, there would be particular hell to pay.
“Gulfstream F-GFIB, Fly heading 220 degress….maintain 3600 feet until established on the localizer. Orly approach clears you for the ILS 26 approach. Contact the tower passing the outer marker.”
The pilot lowered the gear and flaps as he configured the aircraft for approach. Passing 5000 feet the engines pulled in a trivial amount of white dust…invisible in the otherwise clear air. But the air conditioning was powered by bleed air off the first stage compressor, and the white dust was quickly vented in to the cabin. The pilot and copilot heard the screams first…coming from the cabin where Kivar and his personal bodyguard were seated….then their own skin felt like fire.
On the radar screen at Orly approach, the controller saw the Gulfstream appear to pitch up briefly…then descended abruptly in what could only have been a near-vertical dive. It struck the ground almost nine miles east of the airport. He instantly dispatched emergency vehicles, but they would find no survivors….
It was almost thirty hours later as Max sat at the head table of the impromptu party in the tent at the silo. He was with Bryan, and Sergeant-Major Grayson, sitting to the right of Colonel Jefferies who had flown in on his CV-22. On the Chief of Staff’s right sat Colonel Taylor and Major Young, as well as their senior NCO. It was supposed to be a time of great celebration…and for most of the assembled troops it was…but not for Max.
Max hadn’t slept that night. He’d played the recorder he’d found intact in the IFV again and again, and he couldn’t hate the Skins any more…at least not all of them. So he had only the aching loneliness throughout the night…and he’d laid awake wondering how his whole life could have gone so terribly wrong.
There had been a dozen little things in the recording that...had they gone the smallest bit differently…would have caused the humans to lose that battle and the Skins to win. Had the Scout IFV not fallen through that old silo…none of them would even be here. War was the most dramatic example of chaos theory at work that you could have. You just needed to change the smallest thing, and everything else could…and did…change drastically. And none of them would have made the slightest difference in the launching of those missiles. If Max had not been there, or if any of those things had gone differently and everyone under this tent had now died...the missiles would still have eliminated every Skin on the planet.
So why on earth had future Max made her drive him away? Tess being alive….the four being together…it had nothing to do with the eventual victory over the Skins, and as the radio reports came in from overseas…as humans coming back from France and China were already spreading the infection as they returned to the United States, it was apparent that the Skins were defeated. The winds and the contagion would spread the agent, and in the end there would be no Skins on Earth, just this end of their wormhole apparatus. And who knows…someday they might even visit other worlds through those portals…hopefully in peace. Already the President was making plans to return to Washington DC, and tasking Jefferies with sending people to shut down the halon factories in Europe and China.
But that made it even worse, really, knowing just how little he and the other three pod people had contributed to this victory…how little needed her sacrifice had been. For if chaos theory so ruled the world, it really wouldn’t have been necessary for her to go to Boston and die….perhaps if they’d only eloped and gone to Reno rather than Las Vegas…or if they’d simply told Tess, who was in love with Kyle anyjhow as it turned out, he could have had those fourteen years with her…could have had an eternity with her.
No, Max’s heart was not in this victory, he wished he were anywhere else. Because all he could think about was that her sacrifice had been totally unnecessary, and he was the one who had driven her away….both his future self telling her to make them breakup, and his past self…for treating her with such contempt… and actually believing that she had betrayed him, when he knew she’d been his soulmate….when he should have never doubted her at all.
The young Sergeant came up to the foot of the table. “Begging the Colonel’s pardon,” she said, looking at Max, “Us lab rats would like to have the Colonel come down and have a drink with us,…sort of to express our appreciation to you for saving our lives…”
Max looked down at the young lady. During the last twelve hours he was sure he’d gotten to know every one of the people in Colonel Taylors unit, they’d almost overwhelmed him with their thanks. ‘Even if you failed her, you at least saved them,’ he thought to himself.
Bryan looked at Max. He’d been watching the pain in those brown eyes all day, and had no idea how to make it better. More than ever he was sure that Max hadn’t wanted to survive that last battle.
“Uh….Col Evans doesn’t do alcohol, I’m afraid.”
Max looked at Bryan and then at the young Sergeant. He wanted to be anywhere but here, sitting here like he was some sort of a hero when he knew he’d failed her so badly.
“Sergeant….I think I’d love to have a drink with your group.”
Max hadn’t slept that night. He’d played the recorder he’d found intact in the IFV again and again, and he couldn’t hate the Skins any more…at least not all of them. So he had only the aching loneliness throughout the night…and he’d laid awake wondering how his whole life could have gone so terribly wrong.
There had been a dozen little things in the recording that...had they gone the smallest bit differently…would have caused the humans to lose that battle and the Skins to win. Had the Scout IFV not fallen through that old silo…none of them would even be here. War was the most dramatic example of chaos theory at work that you could have. You just needed to change the smallest thing, and everything else could…and did…change drastically. And none of them would have made the slightest difference in the launching of those missiles. If Max had not been there, or if any of those things had gone differently and everyone under this tent had now died...the missiles would still have eliminated every Skin on the planet.
So why on earth had future Max made her drive him away? Tess being alive….the four being together…it had nothing to do with the eventual victory over the Skins, and as the radio reports came in from overseas…as humans coming back from France and China were already spreading the infection as they returned to the United States, it was apparent that the Skins were defeated. The winds and the contagion would spread the agent, and in the end there would be no Skins on Earth, just this end of their wormhole apparatus. And who knows…someday they might even visit other worlds through those portals…hopefully in peace. Already the President was making plans to return to Washington DC, and tasking Jefferies with sending people to shut down the halon factories in Europe and China.
But that made it even worse, really, knowing just how little he and the other three pod people had contributed to this victory…how little needed her sacrifice had been. For if chaos theory so ruled the world, it really wouldn’t have been necessary for her to go to Boston and die….perhaps if they’d only eloped and gone to Reno rather than Las Vegas…or if they’d simply told Tess, who was in love with Kyle anyjhow as it turned out, he could have had those fourteen years with her…could have had an eternity with her.
No, Max’s heart was not in this victory, he wished he were anywhere else. Because all he could think about was that her sacrifice had been totally unnecessary, and he was the one who had driven her away….both his future self telling her to make them breakup, and his past self…for treating her with such contempt… and actually believing that she had betrayed him, when he knew she’d been his soulmate….when he should have never doubted her at all.
The young Sergeant came up to the foot of the table. “Begging the Colonel’s pardon,” she said, looking at Max, “Us lab rats would like to have the Colonel come down and have a drink with us,…sort of to express our appreciation to you for saving our lives…”
Max looked down at the young lady. During the last twelve hours he was sure he’d gotten to know every one of the people in Colonel Taylors unit, they’d almost overwhelmed him with their thanks. ‘Even if you failed her, you at least saved them,’ he thought to himself.
Bryan looked at Max. He’d been watching the pain in those brown eyes all day, and had no idea how to make it better. More than ever he was sure that Max hadn’t wanted to survive that last battle.
“Uh….Col Evans doesn’t do alcohol, I’m afraid.”
Max looked at Bryan and then at the young Sergeant. He wanted to be anywhere but here, sitting here like he was some sort of a hero when he knew he’d failed her so badly.
“Sergeant….I think I’d love to have a drink with your group.”
Last edited by greywolf on Thu Dec 13, 2007 7:38 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Max looked at the eyes of the personnel at the table the young sergeant led him too…their eyes looking at him with a gratitude that bordered on hero worship. Most had already expressed their gratitude but as he saw their faces looking at him, the bitterness returned. He wasn’t a hero…a hero would have found a way to save the world….these people were the heroes…he hadn’t been able to save even her….and it was all about her, he knew, and always would be. The emptiness in his heart that she once filled…..the senselessness of his driving her away to her death…when he should have had so many years with her.
A young Captain gave him a glass and poured what looked like fruit juice into it from a pitcher. “It’s one-third grain alcohol…we make it from the lab reagents. It has quite a kick, sir.”
Max downed the glass in one long chug…to the cheers of the lab personnel. It seemed to numb the pain of the loneliness in his heart.
“That wasn’t bad…’” he said, his speech already starting to slur. “I might just have another…”
Everyone at the table seemed happy as his glass was filled again, and they all toasted him. By the third glass, his pain had been replaced by total anesthesia.
Sergeant-Major Grayson saw the problem from the head table, and excused himself quickly. The Lieutenant Colonel had been through hell, and was entitled to blow off some steam, but he’d never seen an alien drink before and certainly not seen one drunk. As he looked further, he wasn’t sure that he’d ever seen ANYONE THAT drunk.
“Excuse me,” said Grayson to the people at the table, as he pulled Max to his feet. “I think the Colonel has probably had enough. I’ll get him to his quarters.”
Grayson had just gotten Max out of the tent…without a lot of help from Max…when the Captain suddenly appeared.
“Uh….. Sergeant-Major, …I think I’d better handle it from here.”
“I’m just trying to get him to his quarters to sleep it off, Ma’am.”
“Well, we have quarters right here,” she said, activating the code that swung open the concrete vault like door leading to the elevator to the missile launch crew’s quarters. “I’ll take care of him…don’t worry about him,” she said as she reached under Max’s arm and half carried him toward the elevator.
Grayson started to help, but as she passed the keypad her hand reached out and hit a combination…and the concrete door that was proof against anything short of a tactical nuke, closed abruptly in Grayson’s face. He was worried at first..but the woman was wearing the uniform patches of AMRIID. She probably knew more about medical care than he did.
Besides, there was no getting behind THAT door. Grayson turned and reluctantly went back to the party.
A young Captain gave him a glass and poured what looked like fruit juice into it from a pitcher. “It’s one-third grain alcohol…we make it from the lab reagents. It has quite a kick, sir.”
Max downed the glass in one long chug…to the cheers of the lab personnel. It seemed to numb the pain of the loneliness in his heart.
“That wasn’t bad…’” he said, his speech already starting to slur. “I might just have another…”
Everyone at the table seemed happy as his glass was filled again, and they all toasted him. By the third glass, his pain had been replaced by total anesthesia.
Sergeant-Major Grayson saw the problem from the head table, and excused himself quickly. The Lieutenant Colonel had been through hell, and was entitled to blow off some steam, but he’d never seen an alien drink before and certainly not seen one drunk. As he looked further, he wasn’t sure that he’d ever seen ANYONE THAT drunk.
“Excuse me,” said Grayson to the people at the table, as he pulled Max to his feet. “I think the Colonel has probably had enough. I’ll get him to his quarters.”
Grayson had just gotten Max out of the tent…without a lot of help from Max…when the Captain suddenly appeared.
“Uh….. Sergeant-Major, …I think I’d better handle it from here.”
“I’m just trying to get him to his quarters to sleep it off, Ma’am.”
“Well, we have quarters right here,” she said, activating the code that swung open the concrete vault like door leading to the elevator to the missile launch crew’s quarters. “I’ll take care of him…don’t worry about him,” she said as she reached under Max’s arm and half carried him toward the elevator.
Grayson started to help, but as she passed the keypad her hand reached out and hit a combination…and the concrete door that was proof against anything short of a tactical nuke, closed abruptly in Grayson’s face. He was worried at first..but the woman was wearing the uniform patches of AMRIID. She probably knew more about medical care than he did.
Besides, there was no getting behind THAT door. Grayson turned and reluctantly went back to the party.
Last edited by greywolf on Thu Dec 13, 2007 7:40 pm, edited 2 times in total.
It had been nearly a decade since an underage Max Evans had taken one swig from Kyle Valenti's hip flask...no more than a half ounce, and become inebriated by the 86 proof whiskey within. But the lab alcohol had not been 86 proof Jack Daniels, it had been an azeotrope of ethanol and water, that was slightly more than 95% ethanol...call it 191 proof, and even diluted with two parts of fruit juice, it was still 63 proof. And Max hadn't had just a swallow....he'd had three glasses. So Max wasn't intoxicated...oh no, it went far beyond intoxication. Max was drunk....blind drunk...smashed...blotto...shit-faced,,,,you know the terms. But strangely, the only one that didn't apply was "feeling no pain."
Even through the delirium the pain was still there...the emptiness that filled him to the core.
But while he ached inside, the world was merely a blur to Max Evans as the woman helped him from the elevator and walked him slowly to the bunk and set him down carefully.
Superficially Max felt the soft hands that unbuttoned his battle dress uniform and stripped his clothes from him before laying him down on the bed, but his eyes saw nothing but a blur while his mind relived the thoughts of the too few years that he had known Liz, and his heart ached with loneliness.
As she looked down on him she gave a gentle smile...then began to unbutton her own battle dress uniform.
Above ground, Grayson had rejoined the head table of the party, just in time to hear Colonel Jefferies talking to Colonel Taylor.
"Tell me...what was it... the agent that you created that killed the Skins? The EB-P? "
"It was a bioengineered derivative of Epstein-Barr virus, sir, and I really can't take credit for it. I had my doubts, right up to the last, that it would work. We had no animal models..no way of knowing...and the technology for creating it...way over my head. It was pioneering work done by one of my junior officers...the hardest working person I ever met. She has practically lived in her lab for the entire time she's been with us. She was on her feet for almost seventy hours getting those missiles prepared,,,then the four 155mm projectiles. She crashed after that...but she should be getting to the party any minute now."
"Colonel Evans told me why it shouldn't work...tell me how it did work."
"Well, as the young lady explained it to me, it has to do with desmosomes...the parts of human skin that hold it together. She modified the virus that causes mononucleosis..it tends to attack those areas, to make it more infective..and quicker. She didn't attack the Skins...she attacked their human skin. The desmosomes release somewhat and the skin becomes permeable to oxygen. It doesn't bother humans...even though they are infected too..in fact..they'll spread the infection worldwide. It won't hurt the Skins on their home planet...but any that come to Earth will have to be in full protective gear...like spacesuits. They aren't going to be hard to spot. Probably all those here now will die, unless they surrender before they become infected."
Down in the old missile crew quarters the young Captain had completed her own disrobing, and now lay down against the drunken Max Evans, her lips softly pressing against his. He didn't realize it though....the boy was really hammered.
Even through the delirium the pain was still there...the emptiness that filled him to the core.
But while he ached inside, the world was merely a blur to Max Evans as the woman helped him from the elevator and walked him slowly to the bunk and set him down carefully.
Superficially Max felt the soft hands that unbuttoned his battle dress uniform and stripped his clothes from him before laying him down on the bed, but his eyes saw nothing but a blur while his mind relived the thoughts of the too few years that he had known Liz, and his heart ached with loneliness.
As she looked down on him she gave a gentle smile...then began to unbutton her own battle dress uniform.
Above ground, Grayson had rejoined the head table of the party, just in time to hear Colonel Jefferies talking to Colonel Taylor.
"Tell me...what was it... the agent that you created that killed the Skins? The EB-P? "
"It was a bioengineered derivative of Epstein-Barr virus, sir, and I really can't take credit for it. I had my doubts, right up to the last, that it would work. We had no animal models..no way of knowing...and the technology for creating it...way over my head. It was pioneering work done by one of my junior officers...the hardest working person I ever met. She has practically lived in her lab for the entire time she's been with us. She was on her feet for almost seventy hours getting those missiles prepared,,,then the four 155mm projectiles. She crashed after that...but she should be getting to the party any minute now."
"Colonel Evans told me why it shouldn't work...tell me how it did work."
"Well, as the young lady explained it to me, it has to do with desmosomes...the parts of human skin that hold it together. She modified the virus that causes mononucleosis..it tends to attack those areas, to make it more infective..and quicker. She didn't attack the Skins...she attacked their human skin. The desmosomes release somewhat and the skin becomes permeable to oxygen. It doesn't bother humans...even though they are infected too..in fact..they'll spread the infection worldwide. It won't hurt the Skins on their home planet...but any that come to Earth will have to be in full protective gear...like spacesuits. They aren't going to be hard to spot. Probably all those here now will die, unless they surrender before they become infected."
Down in the old missile crew quarters the young Captain had completed her own disrobing, and now lay down against the drunken Max Evans, her lips softly pressing against his. He didn't realize it though....the boy was really hammered.
Last edited by greywolf on Fri Dec 14, 2007 10:51 pm, edited 9 times in total.
"So tell me more about this junior officer of yours...the young lady that saved the world, Colonel Taylor," said Colonel Jefferies.
"The crazy thing is that she wasn't even assigned to us. She was an ROTC student at Harvard...she'd completed her bachelor's degree in molecular biology in only two years and was doing what amounted to a summer internship with us at Ft. Detrick....not even commissioned yet, when....well, when Boston went up and she had no place to go. I took the researchers into hiding shortly thereafter...out to Dugway. I gave her a field commission to Second Lieutenant...promoted her to Captain finally. The woman spends 16 to 18 hours a day in the lab...even here. She's down in the old missile crew quarters. It was her idea to use the Epstein-Barr...and I have to admit that I really had my doubts that this was going to work. She's really the heroine here...not me. All I did was the logistics stuff. She saved the world and LtCol Evans saved us. We really should get those two together and reward them..."
At the end of the table there came a sudden fit of coughing from Sergeant Major Grayson who had been drinking the second beer he'd had in six months when he'd overheard the conversation between the two senior officers. He'd seen the possessive look on the young Captain as she'd closed the concrete door virtually in his face. When he finally caught his breath Grayson looked up and said,
"Excuse me sirs...but I don't think that's going to be much of a problem."
"The crazy thing is that she wasn't even assigned to us. She was an ROTC student at Harvard...she'd completed her bachelor's degree in molecular biology in only two years and was doing what amounted to a summer internship with us at Ft. Detrick....not even commissioned yet, when....well, when Boston went up and she had no place to go. I took the researchers into hiding shortly thereafter...out to Dugway. I gave her a field commission to Second Lieutenant...promoted her to Captain finally. The woman spends 16 to 18 hours a day in the lab...even here. She's down in the old missile crew quarters. It was her idea to use the Epstein-Barr...and I have to admit that I really had my doubts that this was going to work. She's really the heroine here...not me. All I did was the logistics stuff. She saved the world and LtCol Evans saved us. We really should get those two together and reward them..."
At the end of the table there came a sudden fit of coughing from Sergeant Major Grayson who had been drinking the second beer he'd had in six months when he'd overheard the conversation between the two senior officers. He'd seen the possessive look on the young Captain as she'd closed the concrete door virtually in his face. When he finally caught his breath Grayson looked up and said,
"Excuse me sirs...but I don't think that's going to be much of a problem."
Years ago a single kiss from Liz Parker had sobered up an intoxicated Max Evans. But Max wasn't intoxicated...he was totally ripped. Yet even as his mind was in a morass of alcoholic stupor, and his soul cried out in angony for his long lost soulmate, his body started to respond to the kisses of the woman...the feel of her breasts against his chest...her tongue pushing hungrily at his lips which parted and allowed it to flick frantically against his own as if attempting their own mating.
He'd had opportunity enough, over the years, but at first he'd sworn never to get that close to anyone again when he thought she'd betrayed him and later when he'd found out the truth, he'd sworn that he'd be true to his lost soulmate forever. But his body appeared to have a mind...or at least a need..of it's own. And as it responded to her he found himself trapping her beneath him, their mouths still together as their bodies sought to entwine.
He entered her quickly...almost brutally, with no foreplay...hearing a sharp intake of air from the woman as he did so...only then realizing as his mind started to sober up that she was as inexperienced as him. As the fog cleared in his brain, he closed his eyes tearfully....realizing he'd just failed Liz again by this betrayal.
He'd had opportunity enough, over the years, but at first he'd sworn never to get that close to anyone again when he thought she'd betrayed him and later when he'd found out the truth, he'd sworn that he'd be true to his lost soulmate forever. But his body appeared to have a mind...or at least a need..of it's own. And as it responded to her he found himself trapping her beneath him, their mouths still together as their bodies sought to entwine.
He entered her quickly...almost brutally, with no foreplay...hearing a sharp intake of air from the woman as he did so...only then realizing as his mind started to sober up that she was as inexperienced as him. As the fog cleared in his brain, he closed his eyes tearfully....realizing he'd just failed Liz again by this betrayal.
Last edited by greywolf on Fri Dec 14, 2007 8:06 pm, edited 3 times in total.
"Wow.....I guess it was a long lonely cruise, huh sailor...?"
He recognized the voice instantly although it was deeper than he'd remembered it....perhaps the passing of the years...or the huskiness of passion. As he opened his eyes he saw that the face had scarcely changed...a little more mature, but the same eyes sparkling out at him that he'd loved in the picture for all those years....her mouth...she was using that beautiful overbite to nibble on her lower lip...partly in nervousness, partly in happiness, partly..well to conceal the pain of her recent change in sexual experience, perhaps...
"Well it won't be lonely any more, Max.....not if you'll...."
Whatever Liz had thought to say it got covered up by the lips pressing against hers...and the shuddering sobs that sent tears falling from his eyes onto her face...
When he finally broke the kiss, he looked at her eyes in wonderment.
"It was never about me.....was it? Never about the Royal Four..."
She looked up and shook her head....still smiling up at him. Then she tightened her pubococcygeus and levator ani muscles suddenly in something called the 'pelvic crunch,' she'd read about it in Cosmopolitan magazine at the hairdressers when she was fifteen, and up until the last twenty-five minutes had all but despaired of ever getting to try it. The girl hadn't just been studying for her SATS all those years.
It apparently worked...because Max's eyes shot wide open and he emptied himself into her convulsively...Liz finding her own release in the shudders of pleasure that rocked through Max's body. It was long...lovely...minutes before either were capable of speech, but finally a sweaty Liz looked up into his eyes and spoke.
"It was always about you, Max. You are so....distracting."
As she spoke the last word, she crunched again...sending more spasms of pleasure through them both.... It was another minute or two before they got their breath again, but then as she fondled the hair at the top of his neck, she continued.
"You were ALWAYS a distraction...even before you saved my life...and I knew you were my soulmate. Even in seventh grade, when I picked you for my lab partner...I could have done those lab assignments in a third the time, if I hadn't been feasting my eyes on you."
"Liz...you didn't pick me...you chose my name out of a hat."
"No Max, Pamela Troy pulled your name out of a hat....I traded her...and had to do all of her Science homework for a year....and three book reports in English."
"But why couldn't you have let me know...let your folks know?"
He recognized the voice instantly although it was deeper than he'd remembered it....perhaps the passing of the years...or the huskiness of passion. As he opened his eyes he saw that the face had scarcely changed...a little more mature, but the same eyes sparkling out at him that he'd loved in the picture for all those years....her mouth...she was using that beautiful overbite to nibble on her lower lip...partly in nervousness, partly in happiness, partly..well to conceal the pain of her recent change in sexual experience, perhaps...
"Well it won't be lonely any more, Max.....not if you'll...."
Whatever Liz had thought to say it got covered up by the lips pressing against hers...and the shuddering sobs that sent tears falling from his eyes onto her face...
When he finally broke the kiss, he looked at her eyes in wonderment.
"It was never about me.....was it? Never about the Royal Four..."
She looked up and shook her head....still smiling up at him. Then she tightened her pubococcygeus and levator ani muscles suddenly in something called the 'pelvic crunch,' she'd read about it in Cosmopolitan magazine at the hairdressers when she was fifteen, and up until the last twenty-five minutes had all but despaired of ever getting to try it. The girl hadn't just been studying for her SATS all those years.
It apparently worked...because Max's eyes shot wide open and he emptied himself into her convulsively...Liz finding her own release in the shudders of pleasure that rocked through Max's body. It was long...lovely...minutes before either were capable of speech, but finally a sweaty Liz looked up into his eyes and spoke.
"It was always about you, Max. You are so....distracting."
As she spoke the last word, she crunched again...sending more spasms of pleasure through them both.... It was another minute or two before they got their breath again, but then as she fondled the hair at the top of his neck, she continued.
"You were ALWAYS a distraction...even before you saved my life...and I knew you were my soulmate. Even in seventh grade, when I picked you for my lab partner...I could have done those lab assignments in a third the time, if I hadn't been feasting my eyes on you."
"Liz...you didn't pick me...you chose my name out of a hat."
"No Max, Pamela Troy pulled your name out of a hat....I traded her...and had to do all of her Science homework for a year....and three book reports in English."
"But why couldn't you have let me know...let your folks know?"
Last edited by greywolf on Sat Dec 15, 2007 11:05 am, edited 2 times in total.
"Max.... as soon as Boston went up, Colonel Taylor moved us all to Dugway....we couldn't tell anyone. And Max....it took every second....right up until the minute that those missiles went up I was working to make it all happen. Besides...it wouldn't have worked, Max. If you'd known...if I'd told you....Max, it was me...I was the reason that everybody died in that other future."
"That's crazy, Liz, ...what could you have done to cause the end of the world?"
"It wasn't what I did...it's what I didn't do. I didn't go to school...I didn't learn what I needed to learn in time to build the bio-weapon to stop them. Like I said, it was because of you...Max.
When you stood down there in that ridiculous sombrero serenading me...tossing me the flower...Max, how could Harvard have competed with that? How could molecular biology have competed with going with you to the Elvis chapel? Max....the world died because I was too distracted by you...but it doesn't have to now, Max....because as hard as it was to wait for this...now we've got all the time in the world."
It was four days later….a day proclaimed by the President as a day of mourning for the entire nation. With the spread of the virus, over five million Skins had disappeared….a terrible reminder of the casualties suffered in the United States in this, the first interplanetary war. But as many or more had been lost in the fighting that had devastated the United States, and the total human dead lost in other countries was certainly in the tens of millions, and likely the hundreds of millions. The exact figure would never be known.
The President was back in Washington DC with Col Jefferies, trying to re-establish not just the US government, but to forge bonds with the new leaders emerging throughout the world, and most importantly to assure that the halon manufacturing facilities of the Skins were promptly shut down.
Thus far there seemed to be no survivors among the Skins, but even so, the newly constituted Secret Service was taking no chances. Both Tess and Isabel were with the President…screening everyone who got close to him, and their spouses with them. Michael was already leading the contingent of military personnel deployed to Europe to secure the halon facilities there, and Maria was in Washington DC staying with Isabel and Alex, awaiting his return.
Philip had taken Diane to the sunrise service that morning, paying their respects to the many who had lost their lives in this, the worst conflict to ever come to the United States. They still had no word from Max…not surprising since the communications systems were in chaos…and during the service both parents said a silent prayer for the safety of their adopted son.
It was Diane who had seen the Parkers at the service, and the memory of Liz and what she’d once meant to Max was almost crushing. After the service the two couples had talked, the Evans’ again giving their condolences to Jeff and Nancy for their loss….for the loss of the young girl who had she lived might well have been their daughter-in-law.
The Evans’ had accepted the invitation to go back to the restaurant…the one they would always think of as the Crashdown, whatever its current name. And as they sat at the table they reminisced about the times…the times that in retrospect they realized were the good old days, however trying they might have seemed at the time.
Tears came from his eyes as Jeff took the black bordered picture of his daughter from the case, his head shaking as he said, “It seems like only yesterday that the four of us were sitting here…worried sick that they’d been out all night, trying to decide what to do about the two of them. It seemed so serious then…little did we know…”
Nancy nodded her head, tears flowing down her cheeks as well, Diane hugging her to attempt to comfort her, although her own eyes were filling with tears as well.
The ‘click’ of the front door unlocking surprised Jeff. He’d given the staff the day off, the restaurant was closed for the memorial day. But as he saw the glow on the hand over the lock…and looked up at the face of a smiling Max Evans holding someone’s hand…his heart started beating wildly. Jeff had seen that smile once before…saw him hold that same hand in the same way as he’d entered the door bringing Liz home that long ago morning. Even before he saw his daughter’s face he knew…somehow a miracle had happened …and Max had found her.
“This time I’m getting the shotgun,” said a tearful, smiling Jeff Parker. His wife and the Evans looked first at his face…then followed his eyes to the door where Liz and Max had come in…just as they had all those years ago.
Liz was older…more mature….and there was no fear or shyness in her eyes this time as she looked up at her parents and held out her left hand, the simple wedding band demonstrating why her face was lit with such joy.
“You are a little late with the shotgun, Daddy,” Liz said as the four parents ran to their children, holding them close.
“We probably should have waited, sir, until everyone could be at the wedding, ” said Max finally, “..but we figured…well.”
“We figured we’d waited long enough, Daddy..,” finished Liz.
It was almost an hour before the parents were filled in on all that had happened, and Max and Liz were filled in on where the other pod people were and what they were doing.
“So what are your plans now, kids..” said Jeff. “Now that….well, together you’ve saved the world?”
“Well,” said Max, “Both Liz and I have about five years of back pay coming…about five months of vacation time as well. After that…well, we’ll both probably transfer to the reserves. It doesn’t sound like we will ever have any real money problems…some of the things that Liz discovered…the techniques she developed…we should be able to live forever on the royalties to the patents she has applied for...”
“So we’re just going to take it easy for a few years,” said Liz, “…just enjoy being a couple again…enjoy each other. After that…well, I think my next big project will be to create alien-human-human hybrids.”
“So you’ll be going back to work in the lab then?” asked Jeff. Even before Liz answered, Diane and Nancy looked at him indulgently, wondering how he would handle the answer they knew was coming…..
“Actually Daddy,” Liz said blushing deeply, a smile on her face. “… I was sort of thinking the bedroom…but with a horndog like Max I suppose you’re never really sure….”
Jeff looked at his daughter and son-in-law and simply smiled. They were good kids…both of them…and he was very glad they finally had each other.
“Well,” he said, smiling despite his embarrassment, “…when the time comes…if you need a baby-sitter…well , your Mom and I will be here…”
Overseer Zata was correct when he'd said that monarchies were the easiest governments to destroy.
Kivar had ruled with an iron fist, and there was no one really ready to replace him after his death. A dozen of his distant relatives fought over the opportunity to become the new regent, but the chaos eventually led to the Skins army being recalled from Antar and intervening to restore order. One year later after a constitutional convention, the three most powerful military leaders in the home world....the daughter of Zata and his two sons...peacefully turned over control of the homeworld government to an elected President and legislature. It would be two more years before diplomatic relations were restored to the newly elected government of Antar, and nearly seven years before the Five planets opened up diplomatic relationships and accepted as a probationary member the planet known as Earth.
The end.
"That's crazy, Liz, ...what could you have done to cause the end of the world?"
"It wasn't what I did...it's what I didn't do. I didn't go to school...I didn't learn what I needed to learn in time to build the bio-weapon to stop them. Like I said, it was because of you...Max.
When you stood down there in that ridiculous sombrero serenading me...tossing me the flower...Max, how could Harvard have competed with that? How could molecular biology have competed with going with you to the Elvis chapel? Max....the world died because I was too distracted by you...but it doesn't have to now, Max....because as hard as it was to wait for this...now we've got all the time in the world."
It was four days later….a day proclaimed by the President as a day of mourning for the entire nation. With the spread of the virus, over five million Skins had disappeared….a terrible reminder of the casualties suffered in the United States in this, the first interplanetary war. But as many or more had been lost in the fighting that had devastated the United States, and the total human dead lost in other countries was certainly in the tens of millions, and likely the hundreds of millions. The exact figure would never be known.
The President was back in Washington DC with Col Jefferies, trying to re-establish not just the US government, but to forge bonds with the new leaders emerging throughout the world, and most importantly to assure that the halon manufacturing facilities of the Skins were promptly shut down.
Thus far there seemed to be no survivors among the Skins, but even so, the newly constituted Secret Service was taking no chances. Both Tess and Isabel were with the President…screening everyone who got close to him, and their spouses with them. Michael was already leading the contingent of military personnel deployed to Europe to secure the halon facilities there, and Maria was in Washington DC staying with Isabel and Alex, awaiting his return.
Philip had taken Diane to the sunrise service that morning, paying their respects to the many who had lost their lives in this, the worst conflict to ever come to the United States. They still had no word from Max…not surprising since the communications systems were in chaos…and during the service both parents said a silent prayer for the safety of their adopted son.
It was Diane who had seen the Parkers at the service, and the memory of Liz and what she’d once meant to Max was almost crushing. After the service the two couples had talked, the Evans’ again giving their condolences to Jeff and Nancy for their loss….for the loss of the young girl who had she lived might well have been their daughter-in-law.
The Evans’ had accepted the invitation to go back to the restaurant…the one they would always think of as the Crashdown, whatever its current name. And as they sat at the table they reminisced about the times…the times that in retrospect they realized were the good old days, however trying they might have seemed at the time.
Tears came from his eyes as Jeff took the black bordered picture of his daughter from the case, his head shaking as he said, “It seems like only yesterday that the four of us were sitting here…worried sick that they’d been out all night, trying to decide what to do about the two of them. It seemed so serious then…little did we know…”
Nancy nodded her head, tears flowing down her cheeks as well, Diane hugging her to attempt to comfort her, although her own eyes were filling with tears as well.
The ‘click’ of the front door unlocking surprised Jeff. He’d given the staff the day off, the restaurant was closed for the memorial day. But as he saw the glow on the hand over the lock…and looked up at the face of a smiling Max Evans holding someone’s hand…his heart started beating wildly. Jeff had seen that smile once before…saw him hold that same hand in the same way as he’d entered the door bringing Liz home that long ago morning. Even before he saw his daughter’s face he knew…somehow a miracle had happened …and Max had found her.
“This time I’m getting the shotgun,” said a tearful, smiling Jeff Parker. His wife and the Evans looked first at his face…then followed his eyes to the door where Liz and Max had come in…just as they had all those years ago.
Liz was older…more mature….and there was no fear or shyness in her eyes this time as she looked up at her parents and held out her left hand, the simple wedding band demonstrating why her face was lit with such joy.
“You are a little late with the shotgun, Daddy,” Liz said as the four parents ran to their children, holding them close.
“We probably should have waited, sir, until everyone could be at the wedding, ” said Max finally, “..but we figured…well.”
“We figured we’d waited long enough, Daddy..,” finished Liz.
It was almost an hour before the parents were filled in on all that had happened, and Max and Liz were filled in on where the other pod people were and what they were doing.
“So what are your plans now, kids..” said Jeff. “Now that….well, together you’ve saved the world?”
“Well,” said Max, “Both Liz and I have about five years of back pay coming…about five months of vacation time as well. After that…well, we’ll both probably transfer to the reserves. It doesn’t sound like we will ever have any real money problems…some of the things that Liz discovered…the techniques she developed…we should be able to live forever on the royalties to the patents she has applied for...”
“So we’re just going to take it easy for a few years,” said Liz, “…just enjoy being a couple again…enjoy each other. After that…well, I think my next big project will be to create alien-human-human hybrids.”
“So you’ll be going back to work in the lab then?” asked Jeff. Even before Liz answered, Diane and Nancy looked at him indulgently, wondering how he would handle the answer they knew was coming…..
“Actually Daddy,” Liz said blushing deeply, a smile on her face. “… I was sort of thinking the bedroom…but with a horndog like Max I suppose you’re never really sure….”
Jeff looked at his daughter and son-in-law and simply smiled. They were good kids…both of them…and he was very glad they finally had each other.
“Well,” he said, smiling despite his embarrassment, “…when the time comes…if you need a baby-sitter…well , your Mom and I will be here…”
Overseer Zata was correct when he'd said that monarchies were the easiest governments to destroy.
Kivar had ruled with an iron fist, and there was no one really ready to replace him after his death. A dozen of his distant relatives fought over the opportunity to become the new regent, but the chaos eventually led to the Skins army being recalled from Antar and intervening to restore order. One year later after a constitutional convention, the three most powerful military leaders in the home world....the daughter of Zata and his two sons...peacefully turned over control of the homeworld government to an elected President and legislature. It would be two more years before diplomatic relations were restored to the newly elected government of Antar, and nearly seven years before the Five planets opened up diplomatic relationships and accepted as a probationary member the planet known as Earth.
The end.
Last edited by greywolf on Sun Dec 16, 2007 1:20 am, edited 8 times in total.