Return of the Ancients

Chapter 36 The Shape of Things to Come

Each frame of the image feed had been cleaned up and enhanced — every pixel had been illuminated, magnified and scrubbed so that a detailed analysis could begin.

Harper and Takada had been ordered to attend a meeting at an unmarked base just outside of Chicago. When the black helicopter that had been sent to collect them touched down at Fermilab, Harper had a sinking feeling that his project was suddenly not so much his anymore.

A briefing room had been set up, and a dozen stony-faced men and women sat at a long table and watched as selected images were projected onto a large screen. It seemed that the images from the probe had already preceded them. Now it was expected that Harper and Takada would explain them.

Takada stood nervously beside the images. When he spoke, his voice sounded tight in this throat. ‘The being is approximately six and a half feet tall. And… we firmly believe that it is not wearing a mask.’ The physicist paused and let the small audience take this in.

There were murmurs among the group, and one sat forward clearing her throat. Her green jacket had numerous stars pinned to the collar and her face was hard as the table in front of her. ‘How can you be so sure?’

Colonel Marion Briggs looked around at the others. ‘Does anyone else here remember that young Chinese guy who wore the old man mask onto the plane? It looked so real, he managed to get right through customs and immigration. Even fooled the person sitting next to him for several hours.’ She jabbed a finger at the screen. ‘So, how can we just rule that out?’

Takada cleared his throat, already wilting. He turned to Harper, who nodded and got to his feet. Harper signalled to a technician at the back of the room, and immediately the screen showed five pictures lined up next to each other, creating a time-sequence panorama. They were all of the face of the lunging beast, the images only milliseconds apart, and only changing fractionally in angle from first to last. Following enhancement, they were brutally clear, right down to every single hair follicle and fold of flesh.

Harper look at Briggs, then the others. ‘Look at the eyes — notice anything?’

There were a few shrugs.

‘We went from night vision to white light — only for a second, but we lit the forest up like a stage. Note the contraction of the pupils; if the subject was wearing contact lenses, there wouldn’t be any. Those eyes are real, ladies and gentlemen. Now, in humans, light can be reflected back from the eye as a red glow — the bane of wedding snaps the world over.’ No one laughed. ‘In any case, that’s due to the light reflecting back off a blood vessel layer behind the retina. But in wolves, the retina has a reflective layer behind it called the tapetum lucidum. This layer acts like a mirror, reflecting light at the back of their eyes. It’s what helps them in the dark. It’s also what gives their eyes that silver shine.’

Warming to his lecture, Harper paced around the table. ‘We’ve analysed every life form image we were able to isolate, and not a single one matches any of the known genera, family, species or order we know or understand. Sure, there are things that look like birds, like squirrels, but they’re not. We might be looking at a new dimension, a new planet or time — pick any, or all of them, and you could be right. But if someone were to ask me…’

He signalled to the technician again. The screen changed to a background shot of Arnold Singer — he looked haggard and frightened, and there were bruises over his face and deep marks around his neck.

‘Mister Singer here is either in these creatures’ care, or being held as their captive. But the thing is, he’s alive. Does anyone know the odds of finding another habitable planet in our universe? I’ll tell you: it’s about 0.01 % over 4,000,000,000 years. And the young man just happens to fall onto one? I think not.’

He turned back to the screen. ‘I think Arnold Singer is right here, in this country… In this state. The big question is: when?’

Colonel Briggs stood up and placed her cap under her arm. ‘Good enough for me. The doorway’s still open, we can survive there without suits, the indigenous defence technology is primitive… and of course, Mister Singer is still alive and needs to be rescued… if we can find him. I’ll recommend to the general that we mount a mission.’

Harper raised his hand. ‘Wait. We need to find him, and the diamond. Without it, we may not be able to shut down the anomaly. There’s also the scientific imperative to do more research. This is a pristine environment; we can’t barge into it with modern technology.’

Briggs clicked her tongue. ‘Who said we want to shut it down? Besides, you said yourself, Harper — it’s already our world. And how can our technology be modern when they’re the ones from the future?’ She smiled without humour. ‘More importantly, if we don’t claim it, someone else will.’

She strode towards the door, and then paused. ‘We’ll be needing some technical advice, so you, or one of your science team, will be coming with us.’ She glanced at Takada, who visibly paled. ‘The team will be operational and prepared to go in twenty-four hours. Be ready.’

The door slammed behind her.

Harper slumped down into his chair, his mind spinning. The lights had come up and the rest of the room had filed out, not giving the two scientists a second glance.

He thought about what the colonel had said, and despite himself felt a thrill of exhilaration coursing through his veins. Though he didn’t like the idea of culturally polluting a pristine species and environment, the thought of an expedition made him shake with excitement.

He was mentally ticking off what he’d need to take with him, when reality sank in. He wasn’t a linguist or cultural specialist; not having either specialisation wasn’t a deal breaker, but the real kicker was that, if anything went wrong there, he was really the only one who could diagnose and rectify the problem — and for that he needed to be behind a console.

He sighed. How many scientists get to go and meet a whole new race? Or maybe meet a whole new species? He turned to Takada.

‘I envy you.’

In the long black car that silently sped along the freeway, Colonel Briggs kicked off her shoes and spoke slowly into the phone.

‘Yes sir, a Type A environment — indigenous personnel warlike, aggressive, but in my judgment, limited in offensive and defensive armaments.’

She paused, a smile spreading across her face. ‘Yes sir, I agree. Just a look-see for now. Maybe bring back a few… specimens. One team of Green Berets should do just fine, sir.’

She ended the call and tapped her driver on the shoulder. ‘You know how many colonels will be bringing the President a whole new conquered world this year?’

The driver knew better than to answer. She laughed and leaned back in her seat.

‘Just one, I think.’