By William S. Frisbee ©

 

CHAPTER ONE

9:52am January 5th, 4207AD. Five AU’s from Sol in Jupiter’s orbit around the sun.

Admiral Conner looked at the view screen and rubbed his chin. This wasn’t Mar’s orbit and that wasn’t the Pan-Asian fleet racing towards him. He tried to shake the feeling that this would end up like that battle where the smaller Asian fleet had used Mars like a slingshot and flew through his larger, heavier fleet like a bullet.

In that fight he had forty warships and he had been facing ten, now he commanded only three ships and the enemy numbered only four.

He didn’t remember all of that battle because of the nuke that had gone off near the USS Roosevelt and reduced Conner and the rest of his bridge to molten plasma.

It was a lucky shot that had blasted through the Roosevelt’s formidable missile defenses. The only thing he remembered from his death was watching the plot of the Asian fleet clipping Mar’s almost non-existent atmosphere and then coming into view behind a wave of missiles. He vaguely remembered someone screaming but it had happened so fast he wasn’t sure.

He tried to relax as he watched the enemy fleet, still over fifteen hours away.

"Outgunned if not outnumbered," Commodore Gallegos said from the seat next to Conner. Nodding in reply Conner decided he should start taking more attention in the bridge crew. The alien ships were smaller and theoretically carried fewer weapons than Conner’s three ships.

"Status report Mister Smitt," the Admiral asked a tall scrawny man who was staring intently at his console. The light from the panels in front of him reflected off his pale terrified face and Conner bit his lip. There was no reason for Smitt or any of the other twelve crewmembers to be aboard.

"Twenty minutes sir," answered the tall, scrawny man refusing to look up from his console. Conner felt sorry for him and the rest of his crewmates. It was like asking rabbits to take up arms against wolves. Only he and Gallegos had ever faced battle, they had both died and battle but that was besides the point. These people the Tauri station AI had given him to help crew humanities only three warships. Only two returnees per ship. Conner wished there had been more time. Of course that is what every General wanted, more time.

These people had lived in peace for well over a thousand years and there was not a single person aboard this ship who wasn’t at least five time’s Conner’s age before he had died. Mankind had become ancient and peaceful. Conner didn’t understand what Mankind had evolved to but he knew it was in danger.

It was a damn shame to put them in this situation Conner thought.

"Any course change Miss Winters?" he asked a blonde woman.

"No sir," Winters responded from her console, Her voice showed her fear just like Smitt’s had.

"Excellent," the Admiral said as he watched a flight of fifty-six missiles hurled themselves at the four alien warships represented by triangles on the screen.

"Anything on hailing frequencies Mister Went?" the Admiral asked the man that would look more appropriate in a weight lifters contest than a starship’s bridge.

"No sir," Went replied.

"I have to go," Smitt said lurching to his feet. His voice told Conner that he was on the breaking point.

"No!" Conner said freezing Smitt with the tone in his voice. Smitt looked at Conner like a frightened child poised to flee. There was only one door though and that was behind Conner.

"I’m not feeling well Eric," Smitt ventured tentatively. Connor caught himself before he started yelling at Smitt about protocol, calling him sir and obeying orders. This wasn’t a military crew and they had a hard part understanding why they should wear the designated uniforms which were part space suit.

"Sit down," Conner said and he noticed several other members of the bridge crew cringe at the edge in his voice.

Smitt slid back into his seat his eyes open wide and locked on Conner. He was frightened and easily intimidated.

"What is the status Mister Smitt," Conner said standing.

Looking back at his board, afraid to anger Conner further, Smitt didn’t see Conner approach him.

"Eighteen minutes, sir," Smitt said. Conner laid a hand on Smitt’s shoulder and Smitt would have bolted if Conner hadn’t been ready and held the man in place.

"It’s going to be okay Jeffry," Conner said and Jeffry Smitt started crying.

Everyone else sat frozen in their seats watching the two, any one of them ready to panic like Smitt.

"You’re going to be alright Jeffrey," the Admiral said moving the weeping man so he could look him in the eye. "The human race is depending on you. We need you," the Admiral said as much for Smitt’s benefit as for everyone else’s. "There’s nowhere you can run aboard this ship anyway. We’ll be OK, I promise." A promise I won’t have to worry about if I can’t keep it, the Admiral thought. "Just relax."

Jeffry sat there with tears rolling down his face and sobbing gently. The Admiral had gone through this before with various members of the crew. He had seen their psyche reports and he knew the best way to handle every member of his bridge crew.

Finally, Jeffrey Smitt brought his sobbing under control, "I . . . I'm . . . I’m sorry sir . . . I-"

"I understand Jeffrey, it’s not easy."

"Yes sir, I'm . . . sorry."

"That’s OK, don’t worry about it," the Admiral said giving him a fatherly pat on the back. Moving around the bridge the Admiral began pretending interest in people’s console. It gave the Admiral the chance to make individual comments and reassure the crew individually.

"They are responding sir," Winters said in a tight fearful voice.

Admiral Conner looked up at the screen in time to see the triangles representing missiles blink out of existence as the aliens vaporized them all.

"OK. No problem, we all knew that would probably happen," Admiral Conner said trying not to sound disappointed. "We will just have to close the range and engage them with beamers. E-T-A Miss Takai?"

"Fourteen hours and thirty eight minutes captain," Mariko Takai replied her voice calm but her face as pale as a sheet. The Admiral reached out to someone nearby who was shaking uncontrollably and calmed them down a little.

"So far so good people. We can do it. All you have to do is make sure your boards are green and leave everything else to me," the Admiral said gently as if speaking to frightened children, no one noticed his tone, and they took comfort in his words.

Conner caught Gallegos’s eye. The Admiral could see by the tightness in the Commodore’s lips that they were thinking the same thing.

The Admiral looked around him at the different faces and tried to tell himself each one was at least five hundred years older than he was. Nevertheless, he found it was hard to believe despite the truth. They all looked like a bunch of frightened teenagers. Jeffrey Smitt was nine hundred and twelve years old; Takai was the oldest at eleven hundred and five. Compared to them HE was the child, but humankind had changed. A long time ago they had discovered the genes that cause aggressive behavior and an Eco-terrorist organization had released a virus that attacked those genes, weakening them, and for the first time in history, peace became a reality.

Now humanity's dream of meeting beings from other planets had come true but the aliens were not peaceful. They were not interested in conversation or trade, they only seemed interested in killing, and they did it well. Their last attack a year ago had almost sterilized a terraformed Mars and now they were going to try to finish the job and proceed to Earth. If they were not stopped, they would keep coming until the human race was an extinct species.

Admiral Conner watched the display intently and sat back in his chair. It wouldn’t be long now. They had been on intercept for a little over a month and the missiles had been launched seventy-seven hours ago.

"Alright, people, take a break. Be back in sixteen hours, then we’re going to show these aliens what it means to attack humans!" the Admiral said trying to motivate the frightened people. It hadn’t been necessary for them to be here but the Admiral had wanted to see how they would react. Now the ships Artificial Intelligence could handle everything, but when they entered combat, enemy RAM scramblers would turn the AI into a confused idiot. Humans would have to monitor critical ship systems when the Ramscrams were activated.

However, mankind did have resources to draw upon. Admiral Conner had served with the United States Space Forces during the second interplanetary war and he had died during that war. With the destruction of his vessel, his body had been reduced to its component atoms. Now Mankind was beginning to fight back with everything at its disposal. He was one of the first, but he would not be the last.

3:52am November 6th, 1995AD. Pensacola, Florida in the United States of America.

Overhead the moon shone brilliantly down from the clear star speckled November night sky. The air was crisp and the city of Pensacola slumbered pleasantly. An owl near the police car saw the furtive figure of a mouse as it darted through the grass. In the blink of an eye the owl launched itself and swept down upon the mouse, and with its prize in its claws, the owl disappeared into the night to feed.

Evans watched the owl fly off into the night and felt close to the world around him. With the absence of the owl Evans began to fidget in the police car because his long legs didn’t have anywhere to go. Cursing he adjusted his equipment belt, regardless of profession or how many times he adjusted it, his equipment belt never fit right and inevitably cut off the circulation to his hip. Evans ran his hand through his short brown hair and glared out the front windshield at the deserted road. His equipment belt was now more comfortable so he turned to swearing at the bureaucrats who required fifty million originals. Always paper work, he thought. It seemed nothing could be done these days without having to fill out a billion different forms.

The dispatcher broke the silence with an all points bulletin and Evans paused to listen. "All units, be on the look out for possible signal twenty one driving a red nineteen eighty eight Ford Mustang, license plate L-M-N eighty four J. Suspect was last seen west bound on Alton road and Bayview."

"Great," Evans said looking at his watch. What damn fool in their right mind would be drinking and driving at three in the morning on a Monday. Most real people had to go to work Monday morning.

Sometimes he really missed the Marine Corps which he had gotten out of about a year and a half ago, there had been more excitement, more variety, and less worries. Mike Evans shook his head, there was no use dwelling on the past.

Another patrol car drove up beside him so they could talk without getting out of their cars.

"You sleeping?" Karen said with a smile. She had a beautiful smile and shoulder length blonde hair that was currently done up in a bun. It looked like the car was built for her since she was average height. Her pretty blue eyes graced him with a wink. To anybody but Evans she would appear to be an unremarkable woman, but to Evans she was absolutely beautiful.

"Tryin’ to," Mike said returning the smile. Karen was the reason he had left the Marines. She had guts, brains, skill, and they were both very much in love, but on duty they were strictly professional, so much that no one would now how much in love they were.

"People are amazing," he started motioning at the radio. "Who in the world would be stupid enough to drink and drive on a Sunday night?"

"Some hard core alcy," she responded, being a veteran officer she had gotten used to people’s irrational actions long ago. Mike was still getting used to people's foolish behavior after little more than a year on the police force.

"Some real STUPID alcoholic idiot," she amended. Drinking was one of the things neither of them did and something they both felt strongly about.

A red mustang shot past, doing at least seventy in a forty mile-an-hour speed zone.

"Shit!" Mike said starting his car to give pursuit. Karen Linton had only caught a red streak in here rearview mirror before Mike was gone.

Mike’s police cruiser caught up with the speeder about a mile down the road, just as the driver swerved over the divider. "Escambia this is One-eighty-two I’m going to go ten-thirty-one on a red mustang at the corner of Belview and Lillian. Copy tag?" Mike said. Ten-thirty-one, meaning he was stopping a vehicle.

"Go ahead One-eighty-two," the dispatcher said.

"L-M-N eighty four jay. Lima, mike, November, eighty-four Juliet, Escambia plate."

"Ten-four."

Mike turned on his flashers planning to stop the mustang at the upcoming intersection near a gas station, but the mustang only accelerated causing Mike’s adrenaline to start pumping. A smile slid onto Mike’s face as he realized the boring night had just ended.

"Escambia this is one-eighty-two, he’s not stopping. West bound on Lillian approaching Belview."

"All units Station one is now ten-thirty-three for one-eighty-two," the dispatcher said telling everyone the channel was restricted to emergency traffic until Mike had the red mustang under control.

"Station One this is one-twelve in pursuit," Karen said behind him.

"He’s turning north on Belview," Mike said making a mental note of the fact the red mustang didn’t slow down for the red light or use a turn signal as he slowed down for the corner.

"North on Belview from Lillian," the dispatcher repeated.

Mike made another mental note of the fact the mustang was again exceeding the speed limit, fifty in a forty. Fifty-five. Briefly he wondered how many citations he could slam the driver with.

"Does this fool think he can outrun me?" Mike said to himself as the mustang ignored a stop sign and turned west down a two-lane road with swamp on either side. Mike made a mental note of the mustang running the stop sign and missed the street name.

"Vehicle has turned west on . . . uh, Bayfront," Mike said thinking quickly as he watched the mustang swerve off the road and almost lose control. The driver was lucky he didn’t slide into the ditch, or maybe he was unlucky depending on how this chase would end, Mike thought.

"Vehicle has turned west on Bayfront from Belview," the dispatcher said in her calm cool voice.

Glancing back Mike saw Karen was right behind him lights flashing and siren screeching. Glancing at his speedometer, he saw the mustang was again exceeding the speed limit, fifty-four in a thirty-five. If the mustang didn’t stop soon someone was going to get hurt.

The mustang approached the intersection of Bayfront and Lillian and showed no sign of slowing down. Mike accelerated to keep up and hit his horn as he approached the intersection. Mike expected the horn warn any oncoming traffic to stop but the semi truck didn't have enough room to stop. Since he was concentrating on the Mustang Mike didn't see the truck until it was too late. In horror Mike watched helplessly as the glaring lights of the truck hurtled at him. When the truck smashed into his car all he saw was darkness.

Mike woke up in darkness lit by brief flashes of blue and in the background a wailing siren made hearing almost impossible. Lying there disoriented his whole body felt numb and unresponsive. Outside the mangled wreckage of his patrol car he could barely hear someone sobbing as they fumbled at his door. He tried to move and a searing pain cut through his body. When he tried to scream all he could manage was a strangled sob. In horrified panic he tried to look around him and noticed the top of his head was in water where the swamp had found its way into his upside down patrol car. Something wet, warm and black dripped from above onto his face, partially obscuring his vision, before flowing into the water. His seatbelt continued to hold him in place and in a flash of blue light he saw the blackness was blood and the driver’s seat was now located in the middle of the car. He managed another breathless sob when he saw his mangled body caught in the wreckage, his left arm was nearly severed at the shoulder and his legs were bent at unnatural angles and mostly hidden by the twisted metal. In that instant he knew he was dying and he heard Karen crying frantically into the radio for an ambulance as his vision faded . . .

11:01am January 5th, 4207AD. Five AU’s from Sol in Jupiter’s orbit around the sun.

The Bridge doors slid open for Admiral Conner who entered and looked around at the nervous people now clustered around the various consoles. The silence of fear hung over the bridge but the Admiral was unaffected by it as he strolled in. He was used to people calling the deck to attention when he walked on, but it didn’t bother him now. Presently he was more interested in people’s morale and sanity than a tradition they would not have the time to understand. Several people glanced at him and then back to their consoles knowing by his presence it was almost time.

"Status Report mister Smitt?" Admiral Conner asked.

"Thirty minutes to beamer range sir," Smitt replied scanning his console.

"Mister Kent, did you get that music programming for the party?" Conner asked a nervous young looking man nearest the view screen. There was a victory party scheduled after the battle. In part it was Conner’s idea and the Defiant’s AI had agreed it would help the people take their ideas off the upcoming battle. Now it would help the crew relax and believe they would survive the battle. However, it wasn’t dying they were worried about so much as the enemy. With violence in society literally extinct, the mere thought of facing violence left them confused and frightened, unable to fully comprehend what was taking place on a deeper intuitive level. They could be told the facts, but deep down inside, where it counted, they just did not believe. Now, with the threat staring them in the face they were suddenly confronted with the reality that they had been trying to deny.

"Yes sir, I was even able to find some classical music from the archives of the Matador," Kent said. Around him, Conner saw people relaxing a little as they listened to Conner and Kent talk about the party as if it were a forgone conclusion they would win.

Commodore Gallegos walked onto the bridge and looked around him. The two spacers nodded to each other, silently acknowledging the crew was as ready as they would ever be.

The Admiral sighed audibly. "Well folks, I suppose it’s time to get this over with, man your stations." He almost said battle stations again, but he caught it just in time. They had their illusions that they weren’t really a part of the battle.

People strolled over to their stations without the speed and attentiveness of a military crew the two spacers were used too. Admiral Conner and Commodore Gallegos sank into their acceleration couches before sliding on their helmets and becoming the ship.

Conner stretched his body and across his vision, he saw the diagnostic reports he had just initiated report all was ready. Beside him, he could sense Gallegos doing the same. Conner would be controlling the weapons and Gallegos would be controlling movement and defenses.

"Status Commodore?" Conner thought to his partner.

"Everything is optimal, Captain," Gallegos’s thoughts replied.

Conner watched the four enemy vessels approaching the three ships of the Sol Defense Coordination for several minutes before he decided it was time to initiate the engagement. The enemy ships were smaller, sleek saucers built to fit through the stargate and fight within an atmosphere or in space. The three Earth ships in comparison were massive unwieldy looking spheres bristling with weapons and defensive devices. With time Earth could have made more efficient, smaller warships, but time was one thing humanity didn’t have.

The AI’s integrity degraded and Conner took it off line and checking the range Conner fired several expanding packets of ball bearings on an intersect course with the enemy ships. The ball bearings would most likely be nothing more than a nuisance to the enemy but then a little steel pellet could get lucky and hole the enemy ship. With their velocity, the ball bearings could cause extreme damage far out of proportion to their size. Several seconds later the humans fired off several ranging shots from their large beamers and the enemy fired off a barrage of their own ball bearings, spewing small spheres of metal that would be traveling at high speeds across the path of the Defiant and her sister ships the Matador and Divine Wind. Admiral Conner ignored the computer's recommendation to change course as he adjusted the beamers' power to the appropriate range.

The enemies closed with each other, and time began to slow for the fighters of the three human warships. Both human and invader ships carved a path through the deadly obstacles with wide beam weaponry. Seconds later the primary beam weapons began to lash out like lighting bolts and Conner felt an enemy weapon sear the port side of the ship. It was only minor damage to the ship but it wasn’t the ship that was the most heavily damaged. A part of him was aware of the panicking crew, some of which fled the bridge while others remained frozen in their seats staring at the display or monitors like they were watching some horrible creature that was about to devour them. Only a few of the crew were able to respond to their consoles now asking for attention. Conner wasn't surprised but he was glad their reaction had been anticipated and the panic didn't affect the operation of the ship excessively. The beams from the Divine Wind lashed out and sliced into one of the enemy ships. Fire and light spewed out from the ship as atmosphere escaped the now doomed vessel exposing some of its crew to the deadly depth of space.

"All ships release stealth mines," Conner said as he released his own underneath a concealing barrage of beamer fire. He was unable to determine if the others had released theirs or if the enemy had noticed yet. Thousands of small, man-sized, bomblets flew through the depth of space, each one concealed by every method of counter measures known to man. Each one could only be seen up close and would appear to be a sphere of crystal clear glass, virtually invisible in the darkness because of the field that bent light around them. The fighting ships continued to slash out at each other with beam weapons that lanced the deadly emptiness of space and the fighters came closer and closer. In order to have more time to strike out at each both groups of ships began to decelerate.

An enemy beam hit the Matador and its deceleration stopped although most of its weapons continued to fire as the ship hurtled toward the enemy. Captain Escobar of the Matador reported severe damage to the drive system, but she reported the Matador was not out of the fight yet. Conner acknowledged her and released another barrage of ball bearings. Conner fought a brief inner battle to order the Defiant and Divine Wind to match speeds with the Matador. The Matador was sure to be savaged severely when they reached the enemy first but Conner knew the human ships would not be able to turn around and they would not be able to pursue any surviving enemy ships. Conner refrained from giving the order so the two ships would have more time to savage the enemy. The Defiant and Divine Wind maintained their deceleration as they came closer and closer to the enemy.

Another beam from the enemy vessels struck the Defiant disabling all of its lower starboard side weapons. Two people on the bridge fainted and another one fled the bridge, Conner heard Gallegos swearing at the spineless crew and echoed his thoughts. Now the Defiant stopped decelerating as automatic fuel cut offs engaged since there was nobody available at the engineering board to countermand the order. Now swearing at the enemy Conner increased his rate of fire, drawing on the point defense battery’s power supply. Another enemy ship erupted in flame as one of Conner’s weapons found its mark.

Then, without warning an enemy ship erupted in a fiery display and Conner smiled. The invaders had hit a stealth mine and a second later another enemy ship collided with an unseen mine. The kinetic force of the two objects colliding was incredible and nothing survived the impact. Conner and the rest of the warriors shouted in triumph as the last enemy collided, shattering and beginning to drift in numerous pieces of wreckage across mankind’s home system. The bridge crew was still panicking and a few more fainted.

CHAPTER FOUR

GNS H minus 1 year 11 months. Tauri Station in orbit around Mars.

You know it’s going to be a bad day when you wake up in a hospital the man thought as he lay there feeling like he had been hit by a fast moving train. His head hurt, his feet hurt, his arms hurt, his whole body hurt. He could feel a tube stuck down his throat and in his nose but he was too weak to do anything about it. Someone was talking nearby but he didn’t know who because he didn’t recognize the voice. It was like he was trying to swim up toward the air above through a thick dark liquid and he could barely see light filtering down from above. He wanted to sit up and ask who it was but his body wouldn’t obey him. He didn’t know how he had gotten here, come to think of it he really didn’t know his name. . .

All he could do was listen to the voices, and realize how much he hurt.

"Subject has regained minimal consciousness," a woman’s voice said in an uncaring tone.

"Status?" said another woman’s voice, she at least sounded more concerned.

"Running diagnosis . . . E-M-R status optimal. C-C-D status normal. G-C-D status normal. Psychological status within optimal parameters. Transfer complete. No E-M-R damage or personality loss. Psychological Profile intact, Personality intact. Status check complete."

"Good," said the other woman’s voice sounding pleased. "Start prepping him for full consciousness."

"Acknowledged," said the other voice.

Psychological profile? Personality intact? What about the rest of me?! He wanted to scream as he slid back into the warm, comfortable darkness . . .

Mike felt too relaxed and comfortable to open his eyes. Nearby he could feel Karen and others that he loved just as much. He felt their presence and they were both with him and in him, they were one and they were individuals so he felt at home and loved. He was waiting for The Time when he felt someone calling him. Because he knew what was around him he didn’t need to open his eyes; he knew where he was. He didn’t hear the callers voice because he didn’t need to, he knew he was being called. They were calling his name but the name they were using wasn’t Michael Evans, it was his other name, his real name but it wasn’t really a name, it was him and all that he was. Briefly he wondered why he was being called as he felt others around him stir, also hearing the call. The one that had briefly been named Evans went to see why the caller wanted him, but he already knew.

"Good Morning sir," the nurse said moving around the room and typing into a console near his head.

"Uh, good morning," the patient said opening up his heavy eye lids and looking around at a clean windowless room and at the tall, dark haired beautiful nurse.

"How do you feel?" she asked seemingly concerned.

"What was the number of that truck?" He said, jokingly.

"Truck?" she asked confused. He looked at her and realized he couldn’t remember why he was here, panic began to creep into his consciousness as he realized he couldn’t even recall his own name.

The nurse obviously saw his panic and moved quickly to soothe him. "It’s alright Mister Evans, your memory will come back, it’s normal, you have just had a pretty traumatic experience, but you’re fine now. Would you like anything to eat?"

Mr. Evans lay back and looked at the ceiling. Right now he was more tired than hungry. "No thanks."

"Alright. If there’s anything you need just address the computer. The fresher is over there," she said pointing at a door. "If there’s anything you need just ask," she said disappearing through a door that slid open for her.

"Thanks," Mr. Evans said slipping back into a restful sleep.

Mike rolled over in bed to reach out and pull Karen closer to him but instead of finding warmth and comfort his hand hit the plastic computer console and he awoke swiftly to see unfamiliar surroundings. Like a bolt of lighting Mike sat up to look around expecting to feel pain at his sudden movement, but he felt no pain and no one was present when the lights suddenly came on.

Baffled Mike looked around him at the empty hospital room and the horrible memories suddenly came back to him, it had to have been a dream. But it had been so very real. Fearfully, Mike looked at left arm bringing it up before his eyes, but his fear didn’t disappear when he saw it because the arm wasn’t his. It was too different than his real arm, his real arm had been thinner, this one was thin but too muscular and unscarred, and he was shocked to see his right arm was the same. But aside from their looks they felt normal which helped alleviate only some of his apprehension. Mike swung his legs over the edge of the bed and noticed that they to were different and almost in a panic he rushed to the bathroom, the door opening for him on its own and he looked in the mirror, his fears confirmed when he didn’t recognize his own face. He wanted this nightmare to end but he knew deep down inside it would not.

"What’s happened to me!" he said looking at the reflection of a stranger, even the voice was different, more deeper and masculine. He looked fearfully into his now green eyes and realized he was about six feet four like he had been before. Mike reached up hesitantly to feel the fuzz on the top of his head and he saw it was brown like before but now it was nothing more than stubble very similar to the time when he had joined the Marines and gotten his first recruit haircut. The fact he was going mad occurred to him then, perhaps he was in some kind of coma or he had suffered severe brain damage. . . .

In the room behind him he heard a door open.

"Hello?" a voice called out.

Mike returned to his room and in his shock he didn’t realize he was only wearing underwear and a T-shirt. Back inside the room, standing confidently and looking at Mike was a short, stocky, dark haired man who exuded authority. The newcomer was wearing a black, sharp looking, jumpsuit-like uniform that emphasized his fit, graceful figure.

"Good Morning Mister Evans. I’m Lieutenant Kevin Jefferson," the newcomer said holding out his hand.

"Good Morning sir. . . ." Mike said giving the lieutenant a firm hand shake and eyeing the uniform. It was like nothing he had ever seen before, and again the thought that he was going mad or dreaming occurred to him.

"There is a robe in the closet there," the Lieutenant said pointing at a door nearby.

Evans turned toward the closet and stopped when he saw it didn’t have a knob. Mike turned back to the lieutenant who pointed at a metal plate where a light switch should be. Touching the plate caused the door to slide open revealing a light blue robe and a black jumpsuit, tailored like the lieutenant’s. Embarrassed, Mike pulled on the robe and turned back to the lieutenant.

"I know you have three billion questions Mister Evans and I’m here to answer them. Have a seat."

"Thank you sir," Mike said, bad thoughts about government conspiracies and secret research facilities going through his head. Perhaps this was one.

"First let me verify a few things," Jefferson said pulling back his sleeve to reveal a forearm length bracelet on his left arm studded with buttons and a small computer screen that was like nothing Mike had ever seen outside a science fiction movie.

Mike nodded, not trusting his voice.

"You are Michael Steele Evans, born September fourth, nineteen sixty nine?"

"Yes sir,"

"Joined the US Marine Corps in nineteen eighty eight, got off active duty in nineteen ninety two, a member of the Individual Ready Reserve? A corporal, former infantry squad leader, Military Occupational Skill oh-three-eleven"

"Yes sir,"

"What was the last thing you remembered?"

"Chasing a D-U-I and getting in a bad car wreck, sir" Mike replied, uncertain where this was all leading.

The lieutenant nodded. "I have no reason to lie to you Corporal Evans and you may disbelieve everything I tell you but it won’t change the facts." Mike nodded his body suddenly going cold. He didn’t fail to notice the lieutenant used his former military rank. "In nineteen ninety five November sixth at zero four-oh-three you were pronounced dead on the scene. You were buried with honors on November fifteenth.

Jefferson paused to look at Mike’s pale emotionless face and the lieutenant knew exactly what was going through Mike’s mind. It wasn’t easy for someone to tell you that and then expect you to believe it. Too many thoughts flashed through Mike’s mind and he sat there in a state of shock.

"The year is now forty-one-twelve. Over two thousand years later and this is Tauri station in orbit around Mars."

Mike looked at the Lieutenant as if he were crazy, "that’s impossible sir, that’s. . . ." but Mike broke off seeing in the lieutenant’s eyes he wasn’t joking, but the lieutenant had to be telling a lie! Two thousand years? That meant Karen was. . .

"Dead. Everyone you knew died a long time ago," the lieutenant said.

There was nothing Mike could say or do. Although he couldn’t explain it deep down inside he knew that the Lieutenant was telling the truth, but he wanted to deny it and run, yet there was nowhere to go. In a daze he felt unable to fully comprehend everything he had lost. He could feel the despair and loneliness as a very real and powerful force that was threatening his weakening sanity. He felt like denying it but he had always been one to face reality. There was too much for him to consider and his mind was so full of questions and answers that it temporarily went blank while his subconscious tried to sort things out. But before he could sink into the depth of despair the lieutenant spoke again.

"You were on Individual Ready Reserve when you died. You are being called back to active duty Corporal Evans."

For more information please contact me at warcat@usmc.net