“What’s so important that we need to skulk around and hide in your stateroom, Lover?” Sandy asked as she stepped through the hatch and eyed her fiancé. Our wedding is only two days away, and we’ve still got a ton of things to do.”
Sandy waited, impatient, while Scarecrow closed the hatch and turned to face her.
“Since you’ve mentioned Samantha recently, there’s something I need to tell you,” Scarecrow said as he motioned Sandy to a seat. “And I need to tell you before we get married.” She could see the anxiety on his face as he leaned against the console, steadying himself with his hands.
“I …”
Sandy remained silent, waiting for him to gather the courage to speak. He released a nervous sigh.
“… The day Samantha was taken, I did something … Something horrible.” Scarecrow looked away as shame clouded his countenance.
“Did you share this with Chaplain Meyer?”
“Yes. And he told what I expected he would. ‘I should forgive myself and move on.’” He turned and stared at Sandy through tear-clouded eyes. “It’s not that simple.”
“If you’re looking for absolution from me, you’ve got it. I don’t care what you did.”
“It’s not about that. You’re right. I am protecting Sam. Every time I see someone being threatened, all those old emotions well up, and I have to act. It doesn’t matter if it’s the Phantom Marine attacking you, or the snakeheads assaulting the Mars Base.” He let out a slight chuckle. “Maybe I am looking for absolution in a way, but not from you or anyone else. From myself. I’m trying to make amends for what I did that day. Or didn’t do.”
“Okay, out with it. What did you do, or didn’t do, that was so horrible?”
Scarecrow drew in breath and released a long, slow sigh before he began. “Sam was only seven years old. The softball league she was going to play in was barely above T-ball. Mom bought her a softball along with the glove, but I insisted on using my hardball. I made the excuse that it would be easier for her initially than a bigger softball, but in reality a softball was beneath me. I was in a hardball league at the time, and I wouldn’t be caught dead throwing a softball.”
“Wow. I don’t know if I can forgive you for that.” Sandy’s expression matched the sarcasm in her words. Scarecrow ignored her.
“She kept overthrowing the ball. Probably trying to impress me with the force of her throws. It kept going wide and landing in the hedge. The last time I retrieved the ball, I turned back to see–” Scarecrow stopped in order to retain his composure. He stared at his feet before continuing.
“The guy was holding her low. His head was completely exposed. I was first-string pitcher on my hardball team. I didn’t spend all my time playing Strike Commander. Mom and dad insisted I play at least one sport. I chose hardball. And back then I had a good arm. A very good arm, and my aim was true. I was the strikeout king. I pitched several no-hit games. I was only 15, but my fastest pitch was clocked at 87 miles an hour. I could’ve nailed that monster right between the eyes and dropped him like last week’s news. Even if I didn’t knock him out, I could have stunned him long enough for Samantha to escape, and we both could have made a run for the house.”
A tear overflowed his eye and streamed down Scarecrow’s cheek. His hand quivered as he wiped it away.
“I could’ve saved Sammie … but I didn’t throw the ball. I hesitated. I didn’t take advantage of the opportunity when I had it, and Samantha was abducted right in front of me! Taken and murdered! And it’s my fault!” Scarecrow jumped up and turned away, his shoulders slumped with guilt and remorse. Sandy rose to stand behind him, her hand resting on his shoulder.
“Darling, you didn’t do anything wrong–”
“I didn’t do anything! That’s the problem. And the truth is, I chose not to do anything.”
“You were a 15 year-old boy who’d never–”
“You don’t understand, Sweeting. There was a part of me that wanted them to take Samantha away!” At his confession, Scarecrow’s knees buckled, and he staggered to sit in the chair previously occupied by Sandy. He dropped his head into his hands as he began to sob. Sandy let him.
“She was a pain in the butt. She was always under foot. When I had friends over, she would come into my room and try to make herself part of the group. When I played Strike Commander, she would sit on my bed and ask a thousand questions about what I was doing, and I only agreed to let her stay if she would shut up. She drove me crazy … so part of me wanted to see her go. Oh, Lord, what did I do?” He gazed up at Sandy, a look of horror on his face. “I could’ve saved her, but I didn’t. For no other reason than because I thought she was a pest? How can I forgive myself for that?”
Sandy wrapped her arm around Scarecrow a second time to console him. “Darling, you were 15 years old. You were still a boy. You were thrust into a life and death situation with no training or experience, and no idea how you should react–”
“I could’ve done something. I had the means. I could’ve saved her.”
“Listen to me. What if you had thrown that fastball? A million different things could have happened as a result. He may have ducked and the ball would have missed him. Then he could have pulled out a gun and shot you. Or what if you did hit him? You don’t know if it would have dazed him or knocked him out. He might have just shaken it off, and again, pulled a gun and shot you. And what if you did knock him out? You and Samantha may have made a run for the house, but he might have recovered and shot you both, or his partner may have come to his aid and shot you. And what if your father had come outside to help? He was a chaplain–they’re forbidden to use firearms, so he would have been unarmed, facing two men who were.
“You see, Steve, you don’t know what would have happened. Actually, you did the right thing. You didn’t engage a far superior force. A 15 year-old boy with a baseball against two grown, armed men. Even with your fastball throw, you didn’t stand a chance. You lost Samantha, but you saved yourself. You need to stop beating yourself up over this.
“And with regards to Sam being a pest, she just wanted to spend time with you. You were her older brother–the only one she had–she idolized you.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Hey. I had four older brothers and I idolized each one of them. They may have teased me and picked on me growing up, but anyone who wanted to mess with me had to go through all four of them first. Trust me, high school was a living hell! But they were my big brothers, and in my eyes, they could do no wrong. All four of them joined the Corps. And I didn’t join just because of my dad, I joined because of them. Because I wanted to be just like them.
“If Samantha had lived, I guarantee you she would have joined the Air Force and been a fighter pilot like you. You played baseball, she wanted to play baseball. She was asking you all those questions about Strike Commander because when she got old enough, she wanted to play it, too. Just like you. And if she had lived, she would have married a guy who was exactly like you. She wasn’t trying to be a pest. She just wanted to spend time with her older brother. Her hero.”
“If you’re right, then it’s even worse!”
“No it’s not. A 15 year-old can’t be expected to understand that. You can’t blame yourself for what you did. Or didn’t do. You acted like a 15 year-old would have acted. Nothing more. I think it was more adrenalin and shock that influenced your decision not to throw the hardball that day than it was your desire to get rid of your pesky little sister.”
Sandy pulled Scarecrow’s face over so she could look into his eyes.
“Release it, Steve. It’s time to let go of the guilt, the remorse, and the self-loathing. You’ve been holding on to it for far too long. I know Samantha has forgiven you. Your parents forgave you, I forgive you, and the Chaplain forgives you. Everyone has forgiven you. Everyone, except you. It’s time.”
Scarecrow dropped his eyes. “Y’know, there was a time when the pain and the guilt began to diminish. I thought maybe, just maybe, I might be able to let go. But when I was first brought aboard Nautilus, during that first exchange, when I saw the female crewman being dragged through the transporter by the snakehead … she had the same expression Sammie had when she was taken. That face, that expression, haunts every dream I’ve had since, and the guilt has come flooding back. It was at that moment when I decided to join Solar Warden. To keep anyone else from being taken. From being abducted like Samantha.
“Then talking with the Chaplain was beginning to help. Together, we started to chip away at the guilt. Until you were assaulted.” He huffed. “I can’t seem to catch a break.” Scarecrow had been staring down as he spoke, but now he looked up at Sandy. “It’s been over 25 years … and I still miss her so much!” Tears splashed on the deck as he spoke.
“Release it, Darling. Let the guilt melt away like sand through your fingers …”
Doctor Elizabeth Sargis awoke with a start. She glanced around at her surroundings and realized she was lying on her back, and she was moving. She was paralyzed, but the doctor could still move her eyes. She attempted to speak, to cry out, but her voice betrayed her. Her vocal cords were immobilized along with the rest of her body. The stunned realization of what had happened came crashing down around the Solar Warden archaeologist as waves of terror gripped her to the very core of her being.
She was furious at that brute of a Marine for dragging her away from her work and insisting on evacuating the outpost. She was close to a breakthrough. She knew it, could feel it, could sense that she was inches away from uncovering an inscription that would reveal the origin and nature of those who had built the complex on Mars. Years of work, toiling, digging, scratching in the red Martian dirt was about to pay off.
Then that ape of a Marine grabbed her by the arm and dragged her away to abandon her work and return to the Mars Base because somebody was worried about a few flying saucers. She remembered thinking that Marines were supposed to be brave, unafraid of anything –they ran towards the gunfire. Then why the sudden concern? It made no sense to her.
Until now.
She recalled how they trudged in silence towards the outpost and the hangar bay, both lost in their own thoughts, in their contempt of each other. The sergeant walked behind her, so close she could hear his equipment and body armor clicking as they made their way out of the ruins.
Then they rounded the last corner, expecting to traverse the final 40 feet to the hatch that led into the outpost proper.
Elizabeth recalled turning her head to cast the sergeant a look of disgust at being forced to leave. When she caught his eye, he glanced past her, and an expression of shocked surprise flashed across his countenance as he cursed, then reached forward and shoved her to the ground while fumbling for his rifle. Unprepared for his gruff action, the doctor pitched forward to receive a face full of amber dirt. As she rolled over to scold the Marine for his perceived assault, she saw two directed energy beams flash above her and strike the sergeant in his chest. His body armor withstood the first blast, but not the second. It struck him near the exposed gap between his breastplate and spaudler as he reached up and back to retrieve his rifle, severing his arm at the shoulder.
Sargis remembered screaming and jerking her head around to see the source of the attack. To her horror, she saw two reptilian soldiers. One continued firing on the sergeant, down on the ground behind her. The other pointed its alien weapon at her head as she froze in fear. Then four small grays stepped out from behind them, and one manipulated a small device.
Dr. Elizabeth Sargis was swept away into a void of blackness and silence.
The doctor awoke to find herself being conveyed by the four grays down a long hallway. The reptilians were nowhere to be seen. It was apparent they were no longer needed, since she was incapacitated, unable to move or offer any form of resistance. She was on some sort of table or gurney, which had no visible means of locomotion. The grays were not pushing or pulling her along, they were simply walking beside her in their signature herky-jerky gait as they made their way towards whatever dark fate awaited her.
They came to an abrupt wall that appeared to bar their way, but to the doctor’s shock and surprise, they seemed to pass through the barrier, into a dark chamber occupied by a number of examination tables, several of which held other human females. Elizabeth’s heart raced. Dread threatened to overwhelm her as her eyes darted back and forth to see who these other women were, and what they were doing in this horrific, nightmare carnival-ride of a place. Horror seized Elizabeth as she recognized the seven other female members of her team from Outpost Nine. There were also two additional women, part of the Marine squad assigned as their protection detail.
Staring at the two female Marines, Sargis thought of Sergeant Harris, that obnoxious jarhead who had dragged her away from her work in the ruins, attempting to convey her to safety. Remorse washed over her as she thought of him lying on the ground, dead from the enemy assault that took them both by surprise. To Sargis, he was no longer an annoying brute, but a hero. He sacrificed his own life in his attempt to save hers. In a moment of time, her opinion of the military made a 180 degree turn.
Sargis snapped back to her current situation. She had recognized her staff and the two Marine soldiers. She observed that all of them were naked, and only then did she realize that she too had been deprived of her clothing. She glanced over at one of the female Marines, and noticed she was powerfully built, her musculature approaching that of a well-defined male. The other women, including herself, were much softer, more feminine in their appearance. However, their physique didn’t seem to matter to the cadre of grays who were now flitting about all ten of them. They stopped beside an empty table, where Sargis was moved from the gurney to the cold, metal surface.
The archaeologist could see a group of grays a few tables down, in the process of attaching several enigmatic lines into one of her colleagues. It was Marina Torres, her lab assistant. The poor girl stared at Elizabeth with a look of dread while the gray attached the lines to her arm and leg with a small rectangle that contained a pair of miniature, flashing lights. One of its companions wheeled what appeared to be some form of scanner over to rest above her bare abdomen. Torres continued to stare at Sargis as tears issued from the corners of her large, terrified eyes.
A wave of guilt washed over Elizabeth as she realized it was her fault they were all in this horrific situation. If she had obeyed the order to evacuate, if she had boarded the transport with the rest of her team, they may have made it safely to the Mars Base. Once the threat was past, she could’ve returned to her work in the ruins.
But because she refused to leave and made the others wait while Harris searched for her, the enemy had time to approach Outpost Nine, disassemble their shields, overcome the Marine squad and abduct everyone, then lie in wait for her and Harris to return and walk right into their trap. It was her fault.
Sargis was snapped back to her own situation while, still paralyzed, two of her attendant grays began to attach what appeared to be numerous IVs to her own limbs. In minutes she began to feel a sensation she’d never experienced before. It was then she realized the lines she thought were IVs were not drawing blood.
They were taking something else.
Another gray alien approached, taller than the rest, and proceeded to insert a long slender needle into Dr. Sargis’ abdomen, just below her navel. No anesthetic was administered, and as a result, fingers of white hot pain shot through her as the alien probe invaded her body. Sargis tensed at the pain while she attempted to scream, but no sound issued from her lips.
The agony continued, and increased.
“We have a problem, Tom.” Rear Admiral Scott Armstrong entered Admiral Maddox’s office and handed him a data key. Lieutenant Vickers was with him, discussing the deployment schedule for the Mars Base in the aftermath of the recent enemy attack. Armstrong cast a dismissive glance at the attractive young female naval officer, then turned his attention back to Maddox.
“That’ll be all for now, Lieutenant,” Maddox said to his aide.
Lindsay stared at the rear admiral, then rose from her seat. She deactivated her tablet as she picked it up, walked around Armstrong and exited her father’s office.
Maddox took the data key his subordinate had been holding out for him. Armstrong turned, locked the door behind Vickers, and pulled an active dampening field generator out of his pocket. He placed it on the desk in front of Maddox.
“What’s the problem, Scott?” the admiral asked as he held up the data key, examining it.
“There’s been an incursion.”
“Not another one? We just got through dealing with an attempted invasion–”
“Not that kind.” The flag officers stared at each other for a moment, then Armstrong spoke the word both knew they didn’t want to hear. “A temporal incursion.”
Maddox sat, not breaking eye contact as Armstrong scrutinized him. After a moment, he responded.
“Specify.”
“We don’t know exactly how the timeline has been altered, but–”
“Us or them?”
“We’re pretty sure it was one of our people.”
“But you can’t be sure?” Maddox’s eyes narrowed as he spoke.
“No. We can’t determine the specifics of the incursion, but the ripple it caused is pretty severe–”
“How extensive?” Maddox leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh as he posed his question.
“Have a look.” Armstrong motioned to the data key the admiral still held in his hand. Maddox activated his tablet and pressed the key onto the side of the small device. His display illuminated, and a series of readouts streamed across the ghostly monitor.
“As you can see, the incursion originated outside the Sol system, and the temporal ripple managed to avoid almost everything as it entered. It did clip the sun, causing a coronal mass ejection. China is going to be having serious problems with their satellites and telecommunications systems for weeks to come, not to mention their power grid. But then the ripple clipped the Earth–”
“The quake in India yesterday …” The blood drained from the admiral’s face. “How many?”
“At last count, over 1,000, but you know that number will rise considerably over the coming weeks. They’re estimating more than 3,000 could’ve been killed as a result of the quake. And that’s the ripple we know about. We can only guess at what kind of havoc other temporal ripples will cause as they spread out around the galaxy. If one strikes a star full on, it could cause it to go supernova. If it’s close enough to our star system, it could devastate us.” Armstrong placed his hands on the desk and leaned in. “Tom, if the temporal ripple would have hit our sun full on, or hit the Earth full on–”
“I know. It would have been much worse.”
“If it was one of us, who would be foolish enough to attempt a temporal shift? We’re all fully aware the possible consequences can be much worse than anything we’re attempting to achieve by altering the timeline!”
“Yes, but these ripples don’t always occur every time an incursion is attempted. Perhaps whoever it was thought they could beat the–”
“You know better than that! None of us should be playing Russian roulette with the universe. The risk is too great. You of all people should know the dangers involved.” He straightened and motioned to his colleague with his hand. “An altered timeline can have consequences none of us can anticipate. What if someone died and was brought back by a temporal manipulation, but they were supposed to die. Or vice versa. We could end up with another Hitler or Stalin, or worse yet, lose a Newton or an Einstein.”
“You’re preaching to the choir. As you indicated, I understand the dangers, and the consequences. Better than anyone.”
“We need to launch an investigation immediately, and find who did this–”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Tom–”
“I said I’ll take care of it.” Maddox leaned forward, his eyes boring into his subordinate’s. Scott prepared to press his demand, but relented. He dropped both hands to his side while he continued his eye contact with Maddox.
“Fine. I’ll leave it with you. But keep in mind,” Armstrong said as he wagged his finger in Maddox’s face, “whoever it is, if they’ve attempted a time-shift once, they may try it again. And next time, it may not be a few Chinese cellphone towers or some mountain villages in Uttar Pradesh. It might just be all of North America. Or the entire globe!” Armstrong snapped up his dampening-field device and stormed out of the admiral’s office.
Scarecrow! Maddox thought as the door slammed behind Armstrong. If I wasn’t up to the gunwales in this with you, I’d have you clapped in irons!