Chapter 1

It all began one day in the mountains of my native Washington State. I was on a camping trip by myself. The weather had been mostly pleasant until that day. The day I found the key to my path. Or maybe I should say, the day the key to my path found me.

That day found me sitting in my tent meditating. I had been a martial artist for several years and meditation had become an old friend of mine. I was in my tent that day due to pouring rain. I was only vaguely aware of the passing of time in my meditative state of mind so I didn't notice when the rain had stopped or that the sun had come out and was drying everything off.

When I emerged from my meditation, was when I saw the change in weather. I got out of my tent and started to stretch and loosen up for some shadow boxing. I regularly went to the mountains to train. Striving to merge mind, body and spirit into one being was then and is now, a never-ending pursuit.

As I fought my imaginary opponents, something at the corner of my eye caught my attention. I stopped what I was doing and stared. At first I thought it was a deer just beyond the tree line stopping to 'watch the human'. The shape took a step forward and the silhouette of a human being, maybe six feet tall, weighing around 200lbs more or less took shape.

For a moment, an image of a newspaper headline came to my minds' eye: "LOCAL MAN DISSAPPEARS IN MOUNTAINS."

Make no mistake, though I was then and am now, a student of the martial arts and was considered by many to be both skilled and strong, I am only human. I can still be outnumbered or surprised though it is harder to do.

I decided to take the initiative. Going to my car, which was parked nearby, I opened the trunk and withdrew my katana sword. I had found my sword quite by accident in Japan a few years before. Through a friend of my Sensei, my martial arts teacher, I had gone to Japan to train at the source of many of the acknowledged martial arts of the world. As I tucked my sword into my belt and tied it down, the memories came forth . . .

It was while taking a tour in a recently discovered samurai tomb; I had fallen through a rotten spot in the wooden floor and found myself in the tomb itself. From the light spilling down into the hole I had fallen through, I could see that this samurai, whoever it had been had been buried lying in state on a stone platform instead of cremation as was the norm of feudal Japan.

He lay in full armor with his sword across his chest clutched in skeletal hands. The archeologist in charge of the site, a man by the name of Tsune, lowered himself down by rope and saw what I saw. He seemed very happy at this turn of events and said as much though my mastery of the Japanese language was rudimentary at best.

Looking at the armored corpse, snapping pictures with a digital camera specially modified for archeological work, Tsune saw a small piece of wood on top of what had been the samurai's abdomen. Gently sweeping the dust away with a soft brush, I could see words written into the wood itself. Tsune translated and said in only slightly accented English: "To the roñin who finds me, my sword is his."

Tsune, always the archeologist first turned to me and said: "Far be it for me to ignore the last wish of the honored dead but until this dig is complete, I can't comply." I said: "Of course I understand Tsune-san. Do your research first and if your supervisor agrees, I can be found through my Sensei."

One year later, Tsune paid me a visit back in the states. He met me at the dojo which had become like a second home to me. I had been an assistant instructor for some time and as I finished one class and prepared for the next, he walked out upon the floor with a long object, wrapped in silk and presented it to me. He said: "I'm very glad to finally be able to give this to you."

I took the wrapped object from him and opened it to see the sword that had been in the corpse's hands. Tsune spoke: "I urge you though to destroy that cursed thing in your hands, for it is an evil blade. I had it authenticated by three of the oldest sword makers of Japan. Each one verified it to be a genuine Muramasa blade."

I too had heard the stories of the Muramasa blades. That each blade while an outstanding piece of craftsmanship, had inherited some of the insanity of its maker. Because of this, any owner of such evil work died an especially gruesome death within a year of acquiring it.

I had also heard of a possible route to salvation. I had to keep the sword with me for an entire day and night. Where I went, it did. If, after the day and night had passed, I felt fine, that meant that the sword had accepted me as its master, if I was rejected, I would feel an uncontrollable urge to kill someone.

I bowed in thanks to Tsune and said: "Thank you for the concern my friend, but I think I will keep it. Remember, I wasn't raised in your belief system. I think this sword and I will get along just fine." Tsune bowed in acknowledgement and said: "So be it on your head my friend." He left then and I kept the sword with me for an entire day and night.

That I am here now telling my story, should tell you that the sword accepted me as its master and except for one separation, we have been together ever since.

Chapter 2

As I held my sword in my hand and the memories of its acquisition faded, I performed some simple kata, or training forms. After sheathing my blade, I saw that the man-shape was still there, just beyond the tree line. I called out: "Hello there. Don't be afraid. I won't harm you so long as you don't try to harm me." The silhouette stood there. I decided to ignore it and went back to my kata for a time.

When I finished my third kata of the set, I looked again to see that the silhouette hadn't moved. I decided to take the initiative and started walking towards the shape. As I walked though, the silhouette kept the same distance from me even though by this time, I was well into the tree line. "Now this is really odd." I thought.

A moment after this thought crossed my mind; I entered a small clearing that was surrounded by the tallest trees I had ever seen since my trip through the California redwoods. The canopy of these trees almost obstructed the sky but left a small hole in the center. The silhouette had vanished as I entered the clearing and quickly became of secondary importance as the vehicle sitting at the center of the clearing caught my full and undivided attention.

I had a passing familiarity with several kinds of aircraft but this one was completely beyond my limited ability to guess at. About as long as a Navy F-14 Tomcat or so, I couldn't guess at the wingspan though. The nose tapered to a snub versus the cylindrical one that most fighter aircraft ended in. Somehow, I knew it was a fighter. I didn't know how I knew, I just did. At the opposite end from the snub nose, were four cylindrical shapes that were equally spaced around the back of the craft around what looked like an access hatch of some kind.

The wings looked less like a single construction than two pair of wings, stacked on top of each other with obvious gun mounts at each end that narrowed into cylinders of their own with radar looking half-dish just behind the tips. Something rotated behind the cockpit canopy and oriented on me as a blue light shone forth. The image matched that of the silhouette save that I could make out features this time.

I knew what a hologram wasbut the ones I knew of at the time were absolutely outclassed by the one that stood in front of me. I didn't recognize the person immediately but something in the very back of my mind did. This faint whisper also said: "Trust him." The hologram wore an orange suit that reminded me of a flight suit, with black boots that went to about the middle of his shin and black gloves that went to about the middle of his forearm. The suit appeared to be one piece and had a gray rectangle of buttons and switches in the center of the chest that was suspended by gray straps. Under the hologram's arm was a white helmet similar to others I had seen but it had two anchor-like insignia over the eyes and a chin strap dangling from its connector on the helmet.

In a firm yet gentle voice, the image said to me: "This vehicle in now yours. It will take you to your future." The image faded from view like an old-model TV picture did when you turned the TV off. Fading, fading, then gone. Slowly, cautiously, I approached the craft that had suddenly been given to me. I could feel the leftover heat from entry into the atmosphere bleeding off of the hull as a small hatch opened on the side and a built-in boarding ladder swiveled down, telescoped in length, and locked in place with an audible 'click' as the steps fell in place.

The canopy had opened at the same time, so I grasped the side of the cockpit to help hoist myself up and looked into the cockpit itself. I had seen many pictures of cockpits and even sat in a couple at local air shows where various aircraft were shown off so I vaguely recognized the layout. Acceleration chair, crash restraints, control stick, throttle control and a couple of pedals on the floor. Many buttons and switches, some lit, most not, completed the image from a sci-fi movie.

Gently laying my sword across the fuselage of the craft, I sat down in the seat. It felt natural, like it had been made just for me. As I looked to one side of the control panel I saw a small screen with a message in plain English that read simply: "Touch me." When I did, a bright series of flashes struck me full in the face and I blacked out.