Collision


The first thing he notices as his seat rockets through the clear sky is the sting of the cold eastern Turkey mountain air as it sneaks through the gaps in his mask and helmet. The next thing is the strange sensation of flying without the fighter.

Good thing I took the opportunity to go to Jump School.

In a few minuets, Ethan is safely on the ground. After taking a second to detach himself from the straps holding him to the parachute, he pulls out his service pistol, making sure the safety is off.

Can't be too careful. Picking up his survival gear, Ethan heads downhill, hoping to find somewhere safe to bed down for the night.

"They're not coming back, you know."

Spinning around, as quickly as the soft ground allows, Ethan points his gun at where he thought he heard a voice. His green eyes darting back and forth before he turns back around.

"I said that they are not coming back."

Ethan spins around, positive he heard the voice. Her voice.

If there is another person here, perhaps I can get some help and get out of here sooner. In spite of his survival training, Ethan turns around and heads back uphill.

Trudging slowly, weighed down by the pack, Ethan makes his way up a narrow path that curves around a near vertical cliff. What he finds on the other side of the cliff causes him to drop his pack, and his jaw.

A simple looking, yet large, corrugated half cylinder hanger sticking out of the hill dominates the small plateau. In front of it is a large, unmarked concrete pad. Beside the hanger is a shack made of concrete blocks.

"I hope they like visitors." Walking over to the shack, Ethan tries the door, finding it unlocked. Inside, the spartan nature of the small building screams 'military.' A simple table in the center of the room, a small kitchen, a pair of bunks against the far wall, a large metal box, and a bank of computers are all that is in the room.

Dropping his pack by the table and tossing his helmet on top of it, Ethan immediately moves over to the computers, hoping to get a radio message to an Allied unit. Unfortunately, all the equipment is foreign to him. And appears to be extremely old.

"Even if I did recognize the hard wear, I can't read any of the labels. Man, I should have studied more when I was in training." As he studies the various switches and buttons, Ethan notices one is blinking faintly. Pressing the button, Ethan steps back and hopes he did not just set the self destruct.

On the table, a small dome shaped object beeps. Ethan turns and cautiously steps closer. Unable to stop himself, he presses a button on the base. At the top of the dome, which looks like a conference room phone, a small shutter-like opening appears. A brief flash of light precedes the last thing Ethan was expecting to see: a six inch tall ghost-like image of a brown haired woman, looking straight at him. At first, Ethan thinks it is his sister, except the image looks older than Tory.

"…-be with you." She bows; her simple, yet elegant midnight blue dress shimmering as she does. After a few seconds, the image shifts, pauses, then repeats her fragmented message.

Sitting down on the box next to the computers, Ethan safeties his pistol and puts it back in its place on his left hip, still staring at the device on the table. "There's something familiar about her…"

Ethan takes off his gloves, listening to the skipping message of the woman. "Damn, this is a fine predicament I got myself in."

He looks about for any signs of recent use. The thick layer of dust on everything confirms his suspicion. "Whatever this place was, it is abandoned now."

The young Marine stands up and walks over to the bunks. Tossing his pack on one, he shucks his G-suit before laying down.

One quick combat nap, then I'll start working on getting contact with someone.


"Ethan. Ethan, son, wake up." Two strong hands continue to shake him. Groggily, he turns away from the shaking.

"Five more minutes dad. No school today."

The shaking returns. "Ethan, I need you to wake up. We have someone you need to meet."

Ethan turns over. The downy warmth of his favorite blanket envelops him. He father smiles at him. As he turns to leave, Alexander Kardos runs into the model F4U Corsair hanging from the ceiling.

"Careful dad, I just finished that!"

Alexander smiles, steadying the swaying model his ten year old son created.

"Sorry, I'll be more careful next time." He tosses a pair of jeans at the boy. "Like I said, we have someone you need to meet."

Ethan gets out of bed, changing out of his pajamas. Instead of the jeans his father handed him, he puts on his Marine dress uniform. If I'm meeting someone, I might as well look my best.

Now dressed, Ethan runs downstairs, where his mother, Cassandra, and his father are talking with two people. Ethan immediately stops, coming to attention instinctively.

"Ethan, I would like you to meet the Empress, and her son."

The young man, dressed in a black version of Ethan's uniform, stands, and bows. Ethan reciprocates.

The woman stands as well, but does not bow. For a second, Ethan thinks that she may mot be able to bow for fear of ripping her beautiful blue dress. In seconds he is proven wrong, when she steps up to him and gives him a hug.

"I'm so proud of you. You've grown so strong, and we," she gestures to his parents, "think that you are ready. That is why I visited you."

Ethan's brow furrows. "What? When did you visit me?"

"Last week, Csorba. Don't you remember?"

Ethan started to shake his head, then suddenly, as if forced, remembered the strange dream he had.

"That was you." It was not a question, but a realization.

She smiles. "Yes. Now, I need you to listen to me. You are about to meet someone who can teach you, train you, to be a great warrior, if you let him."

"But I've already been trained. See? I'm a Marine." For a second, Ethan ceases to be the tall, strong Marine, but instead is a ten-year-old pretending to be a soldier.

"I know that you are, dear one. But your path is leading you to a place where being just a Marine won't be enough." She places both her hands on his shoulders, holding him at arm's length. "Please, Ethan. No matter what, you have a duty to your people. Please."

Bolting upright, Ethan snaps out of a deep sleep. Looking at his watch, he sees that five hours have passed.

"So much for a quick nap."

Ethan stands up, and walks back over to the bank of computers. In the dim light, he trips over the box. Nearly falling over, Ethan turns to land sitting on the box. "A very fine mess I've gotten myself into."

Using his hands for support, Ethan leans back. In a few seconds, a soft hissing reaches his ears. "What-"

The box lurches as the top slides off, sending Ethan unceremoniously to the floor.

"-on Earth!" Inside the box is a strange gray waxen sculpture of a man. His robes harkens back to a time long forgotten. Resting on his chest, held by his folded hands, is the hilt of a sword; but there is no blade.

"Someone spent a lot of effort on this. Too bad the sword is broken." Ethan kneels down beside the sculpture, amazed at the detail. "Man, even the hair is meticulously shaped. It's like I could see each individual strand."

Like a curious child, Ethan tentatively reaches out to touch the motionless man. What he feels surprises him. It's warm! Before he even registers the implication of the though, a pair of brown eyes snap open.