A few months later, he remembered the day his mother sent him to visit his grandmother. His teacher Ms. Wallace had told her he was uncooperative, but he was glad to get away from the kids at school. So he kept silent and let her send him away. He had packed enough of his things to last the two months he would live with his grandmother.
Then while he was away the aliens came and destroyed his home—every living thing in the urban zone of New Perth. The school had burned, his home had burned, everything had been incinerated by a soft beam of light. He hadn't really wanted Adrian and Girard to die. But God had listened.
And then he felt guilty, and the guilt never went away.
It was a miracle his brother had survived. Justin had left for training in Coast Charles only a few weeks earlier. Now Justin visited them every month. Justin was proud of his little brother's exam results and recommendations—but he did not know what Erik had done. If he had known that Erik had caused their parents' deaths, would Justin understand? Could he still love his little brother?
Erik couldn't take the chance. To drown out the inner devils, he threw himself into work, taking up martial arts, basketball, running, survival training. In time, he grew, realized that alien attacks and other such things were not the fault of one person. He realized that death was random, that he had to make the most of his days.
His new friends cheered him when he was accepted to the prestigious UESRC; the city praised him as a kind of hero, a hope for the future of the world. But what kind of hope could he really be? He didn’t want the responsibility. He despised responsibilities that limited freedom of choice.
The UESRC could preach what it might about long-term goals, and he would do his best. But he was also prepared to take each day as it came and try to enjoy his life as best he knew how, no matter what the others thought or said. Ultimately, there might not be any tomorrow.
* * * * *
He established himself as the best pilot on his team and the male candidate from their squadron for complementary research position over at R & D, knowing that every year, Zhdanov and Arnaud selected one male and female assistant from each squadron among the second years for the additional duties of apprentice researchers during their third year and to act as future liaisons between the training divisions.
But when he saw Erin across the field of snow, he could not stop himself from heading towards her. Finding out that she would never care for him would perhaps even be the best thing after all. To come so close to something unattainable was the worst kind of torment.
As he wove through the cadets that mercifully shielded him from her sight until he was beside her, his feet crunching the snow loudly, he almost lost his nerve, until he realized that she was in some kind of trance, standing still among the moving bodies, her sea blue eyes fixed intently upon—nothing but air.
He found himself beside her in moments, shook her shoulder, waited for her to respond, searching for an excuse to touch her face if he could when she suddenly blinked and came to life again.
And the first thing she did was brush him off.
He was deciding to head back to his room when an unfamiliar sensation settled on his head, as if soft, cool fingers were stroking his mind, bringing his thoughts to the surface, completing them when they were half-formed or scattered, heightening his clarity of recollection but soothing his disquieted conscious. A second later, the feeling was gone.
Erin shuddered as she felt the fingers leave her mind. And then it occurred to her that she was Erin and not Erik Ross as his memories took a backstage to her own. She shuddered again as she remembered the alien stroking feeling on her mind, that had really been in his mind.
Erin tried not to think for a moment. Then she felt the familiar wall around her mind comforting and secure. But now there were other memories there, memories she had nothing to do with, and the memory of images, patterns of light and something in her mind urging her to reach out to the energies and control them. She shook off the temptation that began to rise again.
She knew it was there, that other part of her, had told herself in the past that it did not exist. She was herself, alone, but the feelings deep in her mind were begging her to embrace them, telling her that she deceived herself in some way, that they were a part of herself she had once known but left behind and forgotten. They assured her they were the same as she, but she feared them nonetheless. What if she didn't like that part of her once she remembered it? She thrust it away from her, as though it were poison to her.
Then the full realization of who Erik Ross was hit her. This strange, wonderful, compelling person, unique and interesting, had altered her perception of the world. For the first time—through his memories—her mind reassured her that she was as normal as anyone when she hadn't felt quite normal before. She knew what it was to have no doubts about her identity.
And she suddenly wanted to bend down and kiss the Earth she loved.
Yes, now the Earth beneath her was warm to her feet. The Earth beneath her had at last accepted her as one of its own.
All through his eyes.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Erin wasn’t afraid to die, but neither was she ready to die yet. Nonetheless, she admitted that death had the very great honor of conquering human vanity—of conquering her own vanity and any desire for glory on the battlefield she might have entertained—for death conquered everything, from high to low alike. The greatest generals were not more immune to its power than the lowliest conscript.
She had nothing to do that Sunday afternoon and decided to head over to her favorite arboretum and sit and feed the birds crumbs of oat bread.
She reached the Echo Park and sat down under an awning purple beech tree. Nearby a grove of sycamore, white ash, and maple trees provided great shade for a mile.
A familiar figure ambled his way up one of the trails. She gasped.
“Well, I must say I am surprised. Scott Dimitriev!” She got up and called to him. He stopped and looked her way. There was an uncomfortable pause in which time it took him to reach her bench.
"What the devil—! Well, well, little miss serious—
The two just stared at each other.
“How long have you been here?” she asked.
“Well, three years. You?”
“Not even six months,” she replied. The birds at her feet were fighting for the crumbs with the sparrows and doves.
“Things have changed, but you look well–I mean, good,” said Scott carefully.
“You do, too,” she said, with more enthusiasm.
“So, what are you doing here now if you’ve already graduated?”
“I’m on the Stargazer. We’re here off duty for a while,” he was evasive.
“Then, would you like to meet for dinner?”
“No, I can’t fraternize with the cadets, but I’m certain we’ll cross paths again.”
“So you don’t have to leave right away, do you?”
“I’m afraid so. I only came here for a few minutes in the middle of an important conference with Colonel Kansier.”
“Oh.”
“I’m afraid I have to go soon.”
“Well, stay a minute and just enjoy the air with me.”
“All right,” he said, breaking into a smile. “It is nice to see you.”
Her smile was like a small child. “It is.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“Blue Stripes Sky Hawks Squadron, proceed to sector eight for recon." Zhdanov ordered.
"They hit sector eight pretty hard throughout the attack with their heavy artillery planes. A moment ago, they suddenly vacated the area. The combat planes have broken off their attack to protect the artillery on its way back to the alien space cruiser. We'll send another recon team out to aid you once the fighting is over. Maintain net silence
with the base—Zhdanov out."
A sudden attach had mobilized half of the UESRC’s senior squadrons. Erin’s striped fighter sped over the broad green hills and rush of trees that dotted the forested zone. Nearly half an hour of mesmerizing green patterns passed before their squadron slowed to a landing near the assigned coordinates. A wash of thick steam obscured their view as they carefully banked by a small rise and disembarked at the edge of a deep crater. The small group assembled moments later in front of the cluster of fighters.
“Watch your step—the ground isn't solid." Zhdanov advised over the comnet.
“It's still there?" Erik Ross’ voice said, in shock. "They told us it had been destroyed."
The air had slowly begun to clear, and the alien spaceship that had first crashed to the Earth was now visible enough that the metal wall could be seen stretching easily thousands of meters in three directions.
"We've got company." As Watanabe said this, they all strained to hear the distant whine of a recon transport approaching. A moment later, a strong gust of wind preceded the recon vessel's close landing, clearing away the last of the dust and steam. Two men stepped from the landing platform, one an unidentifiable technician and the other Dr. Zhdanov himself, attired in flight gear and compu-helmet.
A moment later, Dr. Knightwood appeared from the very same landing strip similarly attired. Her presence was all the more unexpected, since she had only just arrived from the Ural base days earlier. The two scientists headed towards the Blue Stripes Sky Hawks Squadron and stopped before Major Watanabe.
"Our apologies, Major, for not telling you and your crew what this was all about." Zhdanov gestured to the ship, and cleared his throat. His air of composure had, perhaps for the first time, an artificial quality to it. "You see, in order to prevent our civilian population from panicking any further after the Statue City attack, a select committee of the Security Federation voted to let the word out that the first alien spaceship was demolished after the avalanche.
“I myself was against the decision," he shook his head, "but we had promises to support the Federation to uphold. The truth is that the ship was covered by the avalanche, but the UESF finished the job. None of us who knew were happy about it." The way he said it, they could imagine how difficult it had been for him.
"It's been buried here all this time," he explained, "and we've had no way to study it. The ship engaged an anti-radar cloak the moment it was buried, so at least we haven’t had to worry about the enemy aliens finding it. The only good news is that whoever's inside hasn't bothered us up till now."
"I'll say that's good news," Hans whispered to Erik. Erik nodded, wondering for just one brief moment why the Earth bothered to put up any resistance and didn’t just succumb to the inevitable death planned for them by their alien foes. He had a feeling he couldn’t handle another shock such as this, that there was an alien ship on Earth—couldn’t they be incinerated at any moment?
After that moment, Erik summoned courage forcefully and tapped into the vein beneath his own doubts that told him he wasn’t just going to surrender without a fight, or let the human race be obliterated without a struggle.
"Then just last month," Zhdanov continued, "we realized that the topsoil had eroded enough so that we were able to pick up traces of radiation at the UESRC. The ship's anti-radar detection couldn't hide that, and I suppose the Charon aliens detected it, too. I think the attack on Coast Charles was merely to divert our forces. We were ready for them this time, but they'll be coming back. They know this ship is out here now, that much is a certainty. But we were waiting to investigate this area until after they cut off their attack." He gestured, indicating himself and Knightwood.
“I see,” W nodded, digesting the information.
"Yes, one thing is clear: the aliens at Charon know this ship is out here now." Zhdanov repeated soberly, unable to imagine how this fact would change life on Earth, hoping against hope that it would not bring the end of humanity.
"Yes, they'll most certainly be back." W agreed.
"Well, I'll be interested to see if it's what they're really after." Knightwood said, speaking up. I imagine it probably won't be long now before we learn what this war is about."
W suppressed an urge to say that it might not be long afterward that the human race was entirely obliterated, so what would it matter?
"We can’t forget about Arnaud's plan,” Zhdanov reminded them. “Our infiltration unit might keep our alien friends occupied for a while. Maybe long enough for us to figure out how to get inside this thing." Zhdanov tried to be detached and analytical again.
“You’ve been planning a recon of this ship?” W breathed, conscious of her increasingly rapid heartbeats.
"Zhdanov guessed they might do our dirty work for us and clear a clean path to the crater." Knightwood explained and shot him a glance of approbation.
“You mean—us? Now?” W repeated over the net, keeping her comments from the Blue Stripes on a selective officer’s channel that only Knightwood and Zhdanov could hear. “We’re the recon team?” She asked, in tones of disbelief.
“Why not?” Knightwood said. “Your team is highly trained and heavily armed, isn’t it? Anyway, you should consider yourselves lucky. Of all the teams within this area, Arnaud felt that the Blue Sky Hawks were the best squadron for this recon assignment." Knightwood said, waiting tensely for their response. She decided not to let any of them know the deciding factor—that almost any of the squadrons would have done just as well, but Erin's past connection to the ship had been chiefly responsible for Arnaud's choice. Arnaud and the others of the UESRC knew that Erin had been the first living person to see the ship, and one of the only ones who had ever been exposed to the immediate environment of its initial crash. Though there might not have been anything to that, Arnaud and the other commanders had felt an instinctive urge to place the initial participants in the ships’ welcoming party back at the scene.
Meanwhile, W seemed anything but grateful for the lucky opportunity. She frowned openly, but nodded, her teeth clenched.
"Erik, gather half the team and follow Zhdanov's instructions to the letter. Erin, gather the rest and follow Knightwood." Watanabe swallowed the lump in her throat and barked orders, her eyes flashing at Knightwood.
"Sure thing, W." Erik acknowledged the order and headed over to call together the group that had wandered, half in a daze, twenty meters along the wall. W glanced around, searching for Erin. She stood rooted to the spot where she been standing when the ship appeared before them.
"Erin?" W called on the main comnet frequency to her helmet. "Erin, are you listening? Erin, Zhdanov and Knightwood are waiting."
The girl said nothing, did not move.
"Do you hear me?" W barked, wondering if her comlink was down.
Erin should have heard her through the helmet, as loudly as W had spoken. Instead, the girl remained motionless, her gaze fixed at a forty-five degree incline, her head slightly tilted back. Erik and his team came back; as he noticed the others gathering around Erin and W, Erik rushed to meet them. Behind Watanabe, Zhdanov and Knightwood exchanged a significant glance, and Knightwood nodded.
Erin stared upward at the ship, unresponsive to her teammates, to her superiors, to anyone, though they tried all methods of shaking, pushing, and shouting to get her attention.
"She's as stiff as a board," Nathalie was saying as Erik approached. "Erin, hey, answer me. It's Nathalie. Erin, what's wrong? Erin, snap out of it!" Nathalie would have slapped her, if the compu-helmets weren’t in the way. If Erin, who was usually a rock and never afraid of anything, broke down into panic, would the rest of them start losing it, too? She looked around with an expression that willed them all to keep it together. She had no intention of letting everyone else panic—but Erin? It was unbelievable.
"So what is wrong with her?" Claude interjected from behind,
just as shocked by Erin’s break-down. Meanwhile, Erik, who had been listening from a distance, managed to get to the other side of the group where he could get a look at Erin's face. The expression sent an involuntary shiver down his spine.
It was the same look he remembered, that trance-like stare she'd given him that night a year and a half ago. Knightwood put a hand on Erin's shoulder and glanced from Erin to Zhdanov to W as if at a loss as to what to do. Apparently they all thought that she was in shock, that she was scared. But he knew better. Without pausing to consider what he would say, he reached forward and put his hands on her shoulders.
"Hey, Erin, it's me, Erik. Whatever it is, you've got to pull yourself together. Remember our mission! Remember why you're here!" he ordered, digging his fingers into her flesh, shaking her.
"My mission," Erin whispered at last. Her eyes refocused; the tension in her muscles relaxed, but there was a strange, hypnotic quality to her eyes.
"All right, that's good." W said, while Zhdanov and Knightwood communicated with silent gestures, as if the episode had confirmed some secret hypothesis they had known all along. "Have you recovered enough to move, Erin?"
"I think so," she rasped, blinking.
"Good, because we're just about to explore the outside of the ship." Knightwood said. "Here, walk by me. All right, everyone, we'll break up here. Zhdanov will lead half of you to the left. Half of you come with me to the right. We're going to look for any signs of activity. If we don't see anything, we're going to have to try to find a way inside."
"Inside?" Erik echoed, incredulous, directing it at Hans. "Why would we even consider entering an alien ship?"
"Because the UESF has decided we must find out why the Charon aliens are interested in this thing.” Knightwood replied. “You were one of the closest squadrons in this area when we received news that the ship had been uncovered by the aliens—the UESF felt that you all were up to the assignment, and Arnaud chose you."
Erik listened attentively, his mind working over the situation.
"Okay, I understand,” he said. “But if the alien ship has been here all along, we've already been waiting years for some kind of reaction, some kind of activity." Erik shook his head. "So why not forget the wait now? If we're going to have to find a way inside eventually, why don't we just go ahead and try, instead of looking around the outside again and waiting for them to fry us here, before we’ve seen or learned anything new and vital?”