Timeshadow 01

"I'm Dr Parks, but from now on you can call me Todd."

"Okay, Dr Todd!" She reached out and touched his face, then leaned in and gave him a long hug...

"Todd?"

"Yeah. Sara, what's up?"

"Todd, quick, look up!"

He looked up, shook his head as if clearing his vision. Not twenty feet above his head was a radiant blue sphere; it had simply materialized out of nowhere and now it hovered directly overhead. He heard people screaming, the radio announcer yelling, then equipment falling over as everything disappeared in a blinding flash...

+++++

Lieutenant Aronson circled her Apache above what appeared to be an old mission compound, looking at people scatter while she looked for a good place to set her bird down. Men behind ramparts on a big building were aiming muskets at the Apache, yet so far no one had fired; she didn't feel like taking any chances so aimed for a broad, flat grassy meadow about a quarter mile away from the compound and landed.

"Okay, WEPs, let's shut her down, conserve all the fuel we can."

"Roger that."

She looked at her gauges and saw she had about more than half left, not quite two thirds anyway, and she shook her head, then got on the net: "Beagle Lead, come on in and land in two lines, on my bird. No one, repeat no one is to exit their aircraft until I give the all clear, and write down your fuel levels." She felt her holster more for reassurance than anything else, then flipped a lever and the canopy opened, one side lifting up and out of the way.

She felt it then...the air on her face. Clear and cold, and the only thing she smelled was a fireplace burning somewhere, so she did the 'Apache two-step' -- a little twist and turn necessary to climb out of the cockpit -- then stepped on a strut and hopped down to the ground, already missing her crew chief and his ladder...

"Someone's coming," her weapons officer said. She heard him unclipping his holster, getting his pistol ready, and she turned to face the threat.

She saw a man on horseback, riding her way. He looked unarmed and was walking the animal at a slow pace when she heard the rest of Beagle Group coming in, and the man stopped his horse and looked at the mass of helicopters, overt fear clear in his eyes.

"It's alright!" Aronson yelled, waving at him, "Come on in!" and the man heard her as Aronson took off her helmet. When he saw her hair and shook his head, she almost laughed. The horse broke into a trot and he was by her side moments later. Now she watched his approach carefully -- for weapons, for indecision on his part, but he seemed focused on the Apache, looking up -- as the main rotor was still spooling down.

He stopped short of the fat blades while Aronson walked up to the horse, and when she got to the animal she rubbed it's forehead, scratched under it's chin, all while looking up at the man.

"And who would you be," the man said.

"Lieutenant Judy Aronson, United States Army, sir."

His eyes went wide. "And what the devil are these...things?" he said, pointing to the other eleven Apaches flaring in the field behind them.

"This is the Boeing AH-64 Apache Attack Helicopter, sir. I'm Beagle Lead, this is my squadron."

"The United States Army, you say?"

"Yessir. And if you don't mind me asking, who are you?"

"Ah, yes," the man said as he dismounted, "pardon my manners, Lieutenant. My name is William Barret Travis, Colonel Travis, of the Texas militia."

"Travis," Aronson said quietly. "And this is the Alamo?"

"Yes! Jackson! Did President Jackson send you!?"

Aronson turned to her weapons officer. "Dutch, call Three, Higgins. He was a History major, I think. Get him up here on the double!" She turned back to Travis. "Santa Anna. Do you know where he is?"

Travis seemed taken aback. "You know of Santa Anna?"

Aronson nodded as she held her ground, waiting, then she heard Higgins jogging up.

"Lieutenant?"

She held up her hand, tried to think of the best way to do this, but in the end decided to just dive right in. "Higgins, this is Colonel Travis."

"Yessir?"

"That's is to say, this is Colonel William Barret Travis, Texas militia, who is in command here, at the Alamo, is that correct, sir?"

Travis nodded, looked at Higgins: "And this -- woman -- is your commanding officer?"

"That's a fact, Colonel."

"And you are a historian, did I hear the Lieutenant say?"

"Yessir."

"Colonel, I'd like to get my men settled. We have a lot to..."

"Feel free to garrison in the Mission, Lieutenant. If my men can..."

"Colonel, we'll set up on that ridge-line." Aronson pointed at the ridge a few hundred yards away. "Do you have any recon on Santa Anna?"

"Any what?"

"Do you know where Santa Anna is? Any idea at all?"

"The last we heard he was at the Rio Bravo."

"Do you know the date, Colonel," Higgins asked.

"The twentieth of February, sir. Why?"

"Lieutenant, we need to talk," Higgins said urgently, "now."

"Colonel Travis, we'll get our camp set up. Perhaps we can talk later this afternoon, while we do some work on our, uh, our machines."

"As you wish, Lieutenant. Perhaps your men would like to join me and my men for supper this evening?"

"Sure. We'll talk, later, Colonel. I promise."

+++++

Patricia Hahnemann remembered going to sleep -- but just fragments remained after that. Memories of floating, somehow high above Park Avenue. Men below, police maybe, staring up at her as she floated outside the building, then came the clouds -- clouds everywhere. Cold, gray, then suffused with pale amber.

A ship? A spaceship?

But no. It looked like a ship, at first anyway, then she saw it was a building...but no, even that was wrong. She felt like, at one point, she was moving through a cavern. A huge cavern. Then she was in this room, this cell.

And now, this...man. How long had he been standing there?

He was tall, very tall. Perhaps eight feet, and thin. His skin was caucasian, but his skin was bare, completely bare. No hair, no facial hair at all, but his eyes were distinctly human, even if his face was a little too oblong.

He had been in her cell for hours, she guessed, just staring at her. His head seemed to bob slowly, glacially, and his eyes never blinked. The pupils were, well, huge. His nose tiny, the mouth almost vestigial, and he'd never opened it once. Why had he come unclothed, she wondered. His penis was uncircumcised, and frankly a little on the small side, while the muscles in his legs looked atrophied.

And everywhere she looked, he looked -- with his eyes, with his mind. He made associations. She looked at his foot and she unconsciously thought foot in her mind. He saw the association, saw 'foot' in his mind too, heard her speak the word in her mind, and his now too, and so he began building a basic vocabulary. He knew who she was. She was vital. Vital to their plans. To the success of the operation. To the future of humanity, and future of their planet.

If the first part of the plan failed, she was their last hope.

He could not fail. He could not let her fail.

But he was very afraid. *

(C)2016 Adrian Leverkühn | ABW