Along Highway-93, Nevada
October 28th, 2007 12:43 PM
When her eyes opened, she knew something was wrong.
She registered the dark colors of the ceiling, the sunlight piercing into the tinted windows. The hum of an engine filtered into her ears. She expected to find herself within the confines of her container, but instead found herself laying in the backseat of an SUV.
This was not what they said would happen when she woke up.
No, this was wrong.
Her muscles were slowly gaining warmth from disuse. At the scent of leather and musk, her heart rate had just begun to pulse slightly faster than necessary. It seemed so long ago that she'd last felt panic.
"Do you know where you are?"
Whoever had directed the question at her, she didn't know him. Couldn't recognize his voice. Much less, think of someone at Sector Seven who could sound like him.
Hesitantly, she sat up and spotted the three strangers in the vehicle. Their attire was distinct — US military. Her first thought: shit went down at Sector Seven.
She looked down at her body, the gray S7 jumpsuit still intact. No visible cuts, no bruises, no aches. Her training in the field had conditioned her to awake in a shittier state than this but the main thing was that she was safe. The man in the front passenger seat, caucasian, early-thirties, brown hair, and rugged expression, stared at her expectantly.
"I don't know," she answered. To her right, the window revealed the expanse of the desert. It may have been noon. "But, I'm guessing we're in Nevada— somewhere in Nevada." Less confident, she asked, "Why?"
The man began to answer with much less preparedness than she'd expect if anything that was happening in this moment was remotely right.
"Well...uhm... first things first...your name." He motioned at her dog tags. "You military?"
She clutched the metal tabs in her palm unconsciously. "Sure. You could say that."
"None of us are in the mood for ambiguity," the man shot her a glare. "We've faced a lot of shit in the last forty eight hours. So either come clean, or we can drop your ass on the road and you can figure out your next ride."
As much as she hated being the subject of a threat, the man in front of her seemed dead set to carry through with his promise.
"Lyn," she said through a gravel throat. "Specialist Lyn."
"So, you were Army."
"I was. And at some point, I was transferred into Sector Seven."
"You know you were kept in metal coffins?"
"Yes."
He watched her pupils, the muscles around her eyes, looking for any shifts in focus. Looking for a tell. Then, she assumed he couldn't find anything because he proceeded with introductions.
"I'm Captain Lennox, this is Lieutenant Figueroa," he pointed beside him at the man in the middle, "and the driver is Sergeant Epps." She locked eyes with the two he mentioned in the rearview mirror and nodded. "Now, I don't know how much you know, but there's a war going on." With no attempt at drama, he continued, "and aliens have come to Earth."
He let the reality settle and Lyn took it in stride. As she glanced out the window, Lyn didn't know where they were going, but she knew she couldn't go very long without asking the question burning a hole in her mind. Thankfully, Lennox relieved her.
"You're not sweating yet, so I guess you knew that. To lay it down: there are good and bad aliens. Bad aliens wanted to free NBE-1 which is their leader, Megatron, and to steal NBE-2 an ancient and powerful artifact of theirs called the "Cube" which could devastate our world. Good aliens want to help humanity." He quirked an eyebrow at her. "Following?"
She nodded.
He said, "And now we're en route, following a good alien Camaro that's a quarter mile ahead of us to Mission City to deliver the Cube to the good aliens' leader who is supposed to figure this all out." He said, being as apt as possible.
"Isn't the cube huge?" was her first question.
"It got smaller...some type of wacko-voodoo crap," Lieutenant Figueroa answered.
"And now there's you," Captain Lennox said to her. "Start talking."
They sat with that hanging in the air. The man waited her out.
She puffed out a breath and shook her head. "These aren't official tags from any branch. I don't keep my old ones on me anymore."
"Yeah, I noticed," Lennox showed teeth. It could've been a smile. But there was no trace of humor. "I figured what "S7" stood for, but what's "ARD"?"
She wished her haircut wasn't so short, then. At least, she could hide behind her bangs from Lennox's scrutiny. "'Advanced Research Division.""
"Like Banachek."
"He oversaw our projects."
"What'd you do there?"
Her eyes lowered to her feet as she listened to the tires of the car spinning over the road and decided nothing good would come out of her following words.
"I was part of Reconnoiter."
"And?"
It was supposed to be a cue for Lyn to tell him more, but Lyn didn't bite, so Lennox went on.
"I follow through with my promises," he said. A warning.
Lyn couldn't keep the guilt from reflecting from her eyes.
"We were stationed at the north pole, in a satellite facility transmitting signals throughout the year when the Earth was at its highest energy state using a signature from NBE-2." She paused. "Two months ago we received an extraneous signal. It was the clearest indication that someone was out there. However, we knew something was wrong when the same signal kept projecting back to us. Like they were trying to find us...Desperately. So, my team packed up and we returned to headquarters, biting our nails and hoping they wouldn't pinpoint our location. But...it seems...well, yeah, you figured it out."
After she stopped speaking, she studied them and by the look on their faces…
The sudden wave of discomfort wasn't hard to miss.
Captain Lennox appeared haunted. "You brought them to us," he merely said. Lennox didn't say anything else, but he may as well have taken his gun and put a bullet in her skull, because she was sure it was on his mind the way he stared at her with his jaw set.
Lyn pursed her lips, but she didn't say anything.
Then, Figueroa said, incredulous, "We're in a war because you?" This time, with confidence, he turned around in his seat and looked at her with anger in his eyes. "We're in a war because of you."
"Calm down Fig…" Sergeant Epps advised quietly, eyes flitting from between the road and Lyn. He wasn't happy either, but he wasn't getting worked up over it.
"Do you know how many people have died because of what you did?" The lieutenant's voice was an urgent whisper. "Do you know how many soldiers..?"
A shaky breath blew past her lips after a few seconds of silence. She didn't want that.
It seemed everyone in the car had stopped breathing like she did and she contemplated whether it was a good idea to reveal the details of her work.
"That— that wasn't the point." She said quickly. "It was always mankind's ambition to encounter life beyond the stars and we believed it was in humanity's best interest. And, we succeeded."
"How many people were on your Reconnoiter Team?" Lennox asked, focusing on her. His eyes were stern.
"Twelve of us."
"Twelve of you," he echoed. "We found you in a metal pod. Were they also...?"
There was hesitation in her nod. Where was he going with this?
He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. And when he opened them, she could see his head shaking. "When the aliens attacked Sector Seven, they'd targeted the main generator. As a result, your pods' life support failed. You were the only one we could get out in time."
She could feel the small flare of emotionality in her chest rage into a wildfire and she almost hated him for telling her. Was this to spite her? A punishment? For doing something she thought would benefit humanity? Did that mean the rest of her teammates deserved death too?
"Sector Seven was under immediate evacuation." Lennox said, there was no malice in his voice, no matter how hard she tried to find it. "There was a lot going on and hardly enough time. We didn't know where else to put you so we stuck you with us. Either way, this is your problem now. And whether you want to or not, you're going to help us reverse this before the world faces chaos."
Lyn felt her jowls tense as she strained to keep from letting her thoughts show. Because, otherwise, she couldn't have stopped herself from crying. She wished then that she could have a fractured personality, wished she could have another driver take the wheel, to keep herself from crumbling because she was struggling to do just that.
"I will," she said.
Lennox narrowed his eyes. "How are you so calm?"
The atmosphere in the van was formidably somber, set by these men who would go unimaginable lengths to protect the only place they could call home. If only they could see that she would too.
"How can I be calm?" she muttered. "I expected things to be better."
We all did.
AN: I hope this doesn't confuse anyone but Lyn is her last name.