Part 1: Rise of the Force
Present Day-Earth-2096
A storm raged across the savanna. The wind howled, sweeping the plain with dust and sand, a gift from the nearby desert. A steady rain fell upon the grassland and thunder rumbled ominously throughout the heavens. It was a terrible day to be outdoors and almost as bad to be behind the wheel.
At a small, seemingly abandoned warehouse, two shining headlights flicked off and a car door slammed shut as a huddled mass hurried toward the door. The figure hastily entered the structure, forcing the door shut against the raging winds and shed his coat to the hanger waiting there for him. He took a deep breath, happy to be inside where it was dry, and then glanced down at the lower level of the building, below the balcony where a huge mass of melted metal was hoisted—and more directly toward the feet of the teenage brainiac underneath it.
Andrew Keshel's lip quirked into a smirk and he shook his head as he slowly descended the stairs to the main floor and strolled over, pretending to investigate the heap of wrecked ship. Placing his hands neatly behind his back, he knelt down so he could see the boy fairly well, grinning as he recognized the loud music blasting from the headphones.
"HEY! NERD!" He yelled at the top of his lungs. "THINK YOU COULD HURRY UP DOWN THERE? THERE IS SOMEONE HERE WHO WOULD LIKE TO SAY HELLO! I THINK HE CALLS HIMSELF YOUR BEST FRIEND!"
The boy shrieked, lurching up as though he'd been struck by lightning, nearly ramming his head on the bottom of the machine as he yanked off his headphones to glare not-at-all-intimidatingly at his friend.
"Drew!" he exclaimed. "Why would you do that? You scared the life right out of me!"
Drew shrugged nonchalantly with a sly grin that only earned an eye-roll from the younger man. "When I said you needed a hobby, Blip, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind."
Having recovered from his initial shock, the young scientist grinned sheepishly as he fitted the last plate into place and slid out to meet the confused and slightly exhausted expression of his roommate. Setting down his tools, he wiped the grime from his hairline and stood up. "Yeah, well, I kinda just...fell into it," he admitted, chuckling to himself, setting down his wrench and pausing, taking in Drew's appearance, from the ripped jacket to his jeans torn to shreds, obviously by something sharp. Dried blood coated his face and his eyes still held a hint of fire to them.
Blip sighed in resignation. "All right. Who was it this time?"
"Some freshman punk who thought he could maneuver a T-class Fighter Jet better than me," Drew responded, knowing exactly what Blip was thinking and not even trying to deny it. "And before you ask, no, I didn't instigate it. The brat just wouldn't leave me alone."
Blip raised an eyebrow, knowing Drew too well. They'd been roommates for a long time, ever since meeting at the flight academy Blip's freshman year. Of course, that'd been before...well, before everything. And now, here he was, lying beneath the undercarriage of a mangled piece of metal while Drew was out there blasting space pirates from the sky—and beating up the underclasses apparently. If Drew said that he'd been pulled into the fight, Blip had to wonder how many insults had been thrown before the claws came out.
"Okay, okay!" Drew exclaimed, seeing his doubtful stare. "So I may have taken a couple of swings at the kid! So what? He had it coming anyway!" He moved toward the minifridge in the corner of the lab, grunting with every step.
"Drew, we've talked about this!" Blip groaned, reaching for a cloth to clean his glasses. "You're supposed to set a good example for all the freshmen, not beat them up every time they speak their mind!" He hesitated, watching as Drew reached for a bottle of lemonade in the door. "Not that one!" he added hastily. "That's mine! I'm saving it for later!"
"You're a pacifist, Blip," Drew countered, grabbing a soda and slamming the door shut, earning a wince from the younger man. "You wouldn't fight if your life depended on it." He found a seat and plopped down, making himself at home. "Which is probably one of the reasons why you got kicked out of the academy in the first place."
Blip balled his hands. "That's not true!" he protested indignantly, hearing his voice crack even worse than usual. "You know what the real reason was! Come on, don't do this. Not today."
"Really?" Now it was Drew's turn to look skeptical and blatantly ignore the scientist's requests. "Because last I checked, you're 90 pounds of pure peace and serenity, buddy. You haven't got a tough bone in your body—what little you have, that is."
Blip grit his teeth. "Enough with the height jabs! I have work to do, so if you aren't going to help me—"
"Relax! Dude, chill!" Drew raised his hands, smirking innocently. "I'm just pushing your buttons, Spec! Don't get your glasses all twisted!"
"What have I told you about calling me that?" Blip growled, knowing it would do him no good to protest.
Drew pretended to look thoughtful. "That you hate it almost as much as your actual name so I should remind you just how much by using it every chance I get?"
"All right, that's it!" Blip snatched up his wrench. "I may not believe in violence, but I can still do this!" He chucked the tool at his roommate. Drew ducked, though the action was unnecessary as the wrench fell short by several inches and landed with a sickening thunk at his feet.
"Wow, how...anticlimactic and very according of you."
Blip just sighed, shaking his head, and grabbed his tools to slide back under the wad of metal. Drew chuckled, standing up and moving over to his computer. Blip tried to ignore the persistent clacking as he set to work unscrewing the under panels and digging for the wires and chips inside. The clicking went on for a solid few minutes before pausing abruptly as though Drew had just thought of something.
"Hey, where'd you find this piece of junk anyway?"
"Just because you couldn't find anything cool if it dropped out of space and landed on you," Blip retorted, heaving himself onto his elbows to investigate a series of flashing lights. "It was just abandoned in the desert. Looks like an older crash. Possibly a few weeks at least. The internal circuit board was pretty fried but the external mainframe was still salvageable."
"Techie stuff isn't really my lingo," Drew replied. "Maybe try saying it again in English? You do know English, don't you? It's...kind of common here on Earth."
Blip grunted in response. "It's a Takion Warship, a model that stopped being manufactured after the Second Universal War."
"And you dug up someone's metal deathtrap, why?"
"Don't you think it's odd that a ship that hasn't been used in over three hundred years just suddenly crash-landed on Earth?"
There was silence and that stillness spoke volumes. "And you are aware that this is why you don't have a girlfriend?"
Blip didn't even dignify that with a response.
"No, seriously man!" Drew went on, not to be deterred. "You have no social life and you spend all day fiddling with this—whatever this is."
"Drew, I'd really rather not talk about it."
"I'm just saying there are plenty of nice girls out there who would love to date you if you'd just give them a chance!"
"Thanks, but I'm not interested."
"Suit yourself. But mark my words, one day you're going to be pining for the attention of a girl and then I'll uphold the right to say 'I told you so'."
"Ha," Blip responded disdainfully. "When and if that day ever comes, you can say whatever you so desire. But don't get your hopes up, I don't think it's going to happen."
"Riiiiiigggghhht." There was a squeak from his chair as Drew spun back toward his laptop and began typing once again.
"What is that supposed to mean?" Blip demanded, sliding out to glare up at his roommate.
"It means you're hopeless when it comes to love, man, and everybody except for you can see it!"
"Who says I can't?" he replied stiffly.
"Uh...the hunk of warped and completely useless metal that you are hopelessly trying to remold?"
"I hate you right now."
"I know." He sounded far too cheerful about that.
"Well, are you going to help me with this thing or what?" Eager to change the subject, Blip drug himself back under the machine and continued fiddling with the wiring.
"What? And get a chance to be electrocuted or crushed?" Drew laughed. "No, thank you." He stood up now and moved away from the desk, lining up and landing the bottle into the trash can with a perfect shot. "I think I'm going to head back out there and see what other freshmen are in need of some 'guidance'."
"Please don't," Blip replied, already knowing his request would do him no good. And then, just to be on the safe side... "And don't even think about telling any girls how heroic and brilliant I am either. I don't need that kind of attention."
"Suit yourself," Drew replied. "But do yourself a favor; fix your hair. It looks like a rat's nest."
And then he was gone and Blip was left alone to his devices.
"A rat's nest," the scientist grumbled, rolling his eyes. "Like yours is any better." But he wouldn't let Drew's snarky responses get to him. He had work to do and nothing was going to distract him from his mission. He could just imagine the stories the metal could tell. Of firefights and flying through space on daring and heroic. Blip had always dreamed of one day traveling to the vast expanses of the universe, studying and learning about other life far beyond Earth's atmosphere. He knew they were out there. Recently, several communications had been established between distant planets. An alliance had already been formed; a coalition of a sort; peace between the worlds with the hopes of learning about one other's culture and forever avoiding possibility of future war.
That was exactly what he'd wanted to be a part of since he was a kid, envisioning one day becoming a scientist. He'd accomplished the first part of his dream and it was almost time to embark on the second. And this piece of "space junk" as Drew had called it might just be his ticket. So what if the girls thought he was dorky and reclusive? Once he had succeeded in realigning the heat barrier and returned the ship to whatever planet it belonged to, everyone would know who he was and no one would care that he had dropped out of the space program because he was afraid of space itself.
He could still see the faces of the other cadets the first time he'd been thrown into a simulator. The way they'd jeered and mocked him, the small, skinny one with the flaming hair and glasses that were always falling off or getting lost, the one that knew nothing about fighting or wielding a weapon or anything. It didn't matter that he had an entire map of the universe charted out in his brain and could tell you the distance from any two planets or solar systems, or that he could single-handedly rebuild a passenger V-8 space shuttle. No, all that mattered to the university-and the other students-was that he didn't have the stomach for space- or flying for that matter. He'd left the academy and he never planned to go back.
Ever.
He didn't need them anyway. He would prove he was just as good as them. After all, astronauts could never begin their expeditions into space without the ships that he repaired. So, in a way, he was still helping the cause, even if they didn't want to acknowledge his help.
Sighing, he grabbed a wrench and heaved himself back underneath the heap of twisted rock and metal. Now, this was something special. He could feel it, whenever he was around it. It just seemed to...call to him. Almost as if it was begging him to repair it, which, of course, sounded utterly ridiculous. Machines couldn't talk, or feel, or ask for anything. But still, there was something about this one that made it...different...from the others and he was determined to figure out what.
"Come on," he muttered, unscrewing the bottom panel to realign it with the others. "What are you hiding?"
If it hadn't been a motionless, trashed, tangled mess of scrap, he would have sworn it vibrated at his touch.
Huh. That's odd. He attempted to pull out the loose floorboard, but for some reason, it was more difficult than he had been expecting. He tugged, but it didn't come loose and when his grip failed, he was thrown hard onto his back. This is one of those times when I wish I had someone stronger here to help me. All right, one more pull...
Mustering all the strength he could, he firmly grabbed the panel and yanked. With a snap, the metal went flying, and so did he. He landed hard once again, the now-freed panel crashing down on top of him.
"Ow..."
A strange humming could be heard from underneath the metal he'd cleared away. Odd. Machines don't normally sound like that. And the pattern was strange. Repetitive even. Three long buzzes, followed closely by three short snaps, and then the buzzes again.
That's an SOS!
Realization sparking through his body, Blip hastily heaved the panel off his chest and ducked out to grab his laptop to try and pinpoint the source of the transmission. Quickly connecting to the ship's mainframe, he typed a series of codes into the monitor. Promptly, a location and a timestamp appeared.
South Sonaron Desert.
10/19/2042 10:23 P.M.
That was almost a year ago, Blip realized. But how was that possible, when the ship looked as though it had sunk only a week prior? Logically speaking, time and tear should have worn the outer shell of the vessel to bare metal.
So why does this one appear only a few days damaged?
Heart racing, he pulled himself out from underneath the machine and, wiping the grime from his hands, hurried out into the rain. The desert was less than an hour's drive away and the crash site had been just inside the border. He would be there before sunset. But as he drove, the questions still bubbled through his mind.
How could a ship from ancient times suddenly crash land four hundred years after the end of its manufacturing? And a better question, who was still using it? And why? A warship had no place in an era of peace. Was someone planning to break the treaty? Who? And if so, why?
The sand spat at him in vile clouds of dust as he sped through the desert, passing a long-abandoned laboratory and heading toward the setting sun. The crater where he'd dug up the metal was easy to locate. It was enormous. Blip guessed that, whatever was left of the ship in his lab, it had been much, much bigger before. Definitely part of the warship, but then again, he still couldn't think if any worlds currently at war.
Arriving, he quickly unpacked and went about, searching for any clues or signs that could have pointed him in the pilot's general direction. He got lucky, finding footprints in the sand. Two pairs. Meaning two survivors? But how could there be survivors from a ship that wasn't even supposed to exist? And how were there footprints? For now, there was no time to ask questions. He didn't hesitate, digging his heels into the sand and taking off. Though he was not a fast runner to begin with, people's lives were at stake. He would have to be fast enough.
The sand lashed at his face and he shielded his eyes, stumbling through the storm to no avail. "Hello?" he shouted, his voice snatched up and carried away with the wind. "Hello, is anyone out here? Can anyone hear me?"
Thunder was his only response.
I can't see anything! he thought grimly. And this storm is only getting worse!
He would have to turn back soon. The rain was really coming down hard now as he pulled his jacket over his head and pressed on. Rain splattered against his glasses and he hastily removed them, unable to see anyway.
The landscape unfurled before him in a massive bulge of white and yellow and he could see nothing that didn't belong. But yet, something was pulling him forward, deeper into the storm. It was almost as though his body could sense something he could not.
And then, over the sound of the wailing wind, a soft, almost inaudible whisper was heard.
"Help...me..."
Blip didn't hesitate, wheeling toward the sound and taking off as fast as his legs would carry him. He shoved his lenses back onto his face as he scrambled over a dune and nearly tripped and fell all the way down.
The semi-buried escape pod was easy to spot among the sprawling sand. So easy, in fact, that Blip was surprised he hadn't noticed it before. The pilot wasn't too hard to find. He had collapsed in the sand a few kilometers away from the shuttle. Blip hurried to help, noting all the blood in the sand around him, possibly caused by the crash. But why was the pilot so far away? And why did it look more like he had been stabbed than crash-landed?
As he reached out to check for a pulse, the man came alive, wheezing and gagging. Blip jerked back but the man lashed out, catching his wrists and dragging the scientist down beside him before he could protest.
"Cyb...cybroid..." the pilot wheezed, his voice weak and shaking. "Stop...you must...you..."
"I-I'm sorry," Blip stammered fearfully. "I-I don't know what you're saying."
"Take...take this..." the pilot reached for something around his neck. "Y...you'll nee...need it." He struggled to lift his head and remove the amulet. He shakily handed it to Blip, who looked at it, confused, a million jumbled thoughts whizzing through his mind. What is this amulet? Why is it so important? "P...put it...o-on," the man commanded. "Let them...let them find you...chosen one."
Blip did as he was told, letting the chain fall loosely around his neck, but ignoring the last part. "You're going to be okay," he said as firmly as he could, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "I'll...I'll get you to a hospital, sir."
"No...time..." the pilot coughed. "The beast...is awoken. I...was not ready. But you," He pointed weakly at the scientist. "You will be. You can...take my...place...save...the...universe..."
"Ready for what? What's wrong with the universe?" Blip demanded, but the man just laid his head back, and before the teen could react, he took one final pained breath...and then lay still.
"No!" Numbed with shock, Blip just knelt there for a moment, blinking back tears, trying to piece everything together. He considered attempting CPR but the man's wounds were far too extensive. It wouldn't do any good. He hadn't been enough to save him.
Slowly, he held up the medallion the man had given him. It seemed to be shining, catching the brightest of the sun's rays. Why give it to him? And why say he was going to need it?
He was so wound up in his own thoughts that he didn't hear the footsteps behind him, but he felt the shadows stretch over him and heard the cold voice that followed.
"Dr. Blip Hanson, I presume?"
"Now's not really a good time," Blip replied, distracted by the way the amulet was letting off light. Was it refracting or reflecting? How could it possibly be collecting so much light?
"I think you're going to have to come with us, doctor."
"No," he said. "I'm sorry, but I have to take this man back to his family and-"
Without waiting for his response, something hard and sharp was driven deep into his neck. He yelped, reacting immediately by bringing a hand to pull whatever it was away. His stomach dropped as his fingers brushed against a syringe needle and he choked, his vision already beginning to blur.
His muscles failed and he barely felt his body hit the sand. Overhead, a shadowy figure stood, watching him gasp desperately for air and crawl helplessly across the sand, struggling for every breath.
"I'm afraid we can't let you do that."
"What do you...what do you want?" Blip wheezed, feeling the darkness swimming through his brain and swarming his vision. The man overhead just continued to stare down at him coldly. Blip fought back an instinctive whimper as everything went black and then, right before he passed out, he heard the man speak in a voice as empty and cruel as death itself.
"We want you."