March 21st 2017 CE (common era)

Her heart was stumbling like a semi teetering off the side of a cliff; her lungs drowning like a wet paper bag in high winds, her limbs were both surged by an electric fire and an alien numbness that pulsed from every wound. Somehow, she managed to cough a bloody, “don’t worry, I’ll be back” before her eyes tore off the Undercover’s surprised and worried face, rolled back, and took her into darkness.

Despite what she said, and she didn’t know why she said that, the woman (with only a fake passport to identify her) wasn’t so sure she was ever going to come back. Twenty three bullets. It was reasonable that no human body could be expected to survive it. Before the black became total lack of consciousness, her last thought just happened to be:

“Happy Birthday to me!” With a distant, subconscious nagging, “why didn’t anyone take the headshot?”

---

On the 13th day in the Month of Jupiter, in the Space Era (SE) year 1526: Commander General Xerxes van Roy Bobeck is assassinated during negotiations with the Alttellurians. He is survived by, and leaves his massive estates and fortune to, his two sons: Doctor Theomaximus C. Bobeck and Corporal Jaisarzen C. Bobeck.

On Jupiter 14th, 1526 SE: Commander General Joppa Gustavo Montserrat succeeds General Bobeck in negotiations with the Alttellurians by the Order of Commander Succession.

On Jupiter 16th, 1526 SE: Commander Montserrat secures one year’s "peace" with the Alttellurians. One year to plan surrender to, or war with the Alttellurians more accurately. On the same day, at the Bobeck estate, Theo and Jai review and sign documents pertaining to their father’s last will and testament.

On Jupiter 17th, 1526 SE: Theo discovers an ancient document in his father’s will circa 2058 CE, written by a distant ancestor by the name of Adam Thibodaux Bobeck, beginning with a personal letter:

“Henri, my son, if you’re reading this than I am regretfully no longer available to answer your questions and you will have many. Your job is to keep the Trust Fund in place which provides for the continued suspension and preservation of Dahlia Echo. You will pass these documents and instructions on to your son, and he to his son, and so on until science has achieved what is currently impossible; saving Dahlia Echo.

You are probably wondering who is Dahlia Echo? Son, I can’t answer that question. What I can say is that in 2017, three years before you were born, I was on an undercover assignment in Jamaica. I only met her once, at the time of the incident. Miss Echo didn’t hesitate to kill the rest of them, she had no reason to believe me, but I lived because she let me and I’ve always wondered if it was so that I could save her in return.

Now, Henri, it is my will that she is saved. Her last words were ‘don’t worry, I’ll be back’ and I think you’ll understand why I’ve made it possible for that to be true despite current scientific limitations. So, you must impart this will upon your heir, and he to his until Dahlia Echo is saved, awakened, and reintroduced to the current society. I do not know what future she will wake up in, but I have to imagine her story didn’t end when mine began.

Please forgive me for this burden.

143x8

Dad

(Adam Thibodaux Bobeck)”

Between Jupiter 19th and Saturn 3rd, 1526 SE: Theo tracks down and reviews all the “Dahlia Echo” related documents and files. As a medical doctor, he is certain science has been able to “save” Dahlia Echo for well over a thousand years. He discovers additional documents from Bobeck descendants simply refusing to abide this ancestral request on the grounds of Dahlia Echo being, in Adam Bobeck’s own words, a killer; aside from being a killer, nothing else is known about Dahlia Echo. Theo double checks in their historical database (which he was quite familiar with) to be sure.

Between Saturn 4th and 22nd, 1526 SE: Theo tracks down Dahlia Echo’s body through various companies to one “Suspended Animation Solutions, Inc.” more commonly known as SASinc. Dahlia Echo still exists. Dr. Theo Bobeck must decide whether to pass on the instructions, or finally heal, wake, and reintroduce Dahlia Echo to their (possibly doomed) society. He sits on the decision for months to follow. Meanwhile, Commander General Montserrat faces scrutiny for a gross lack of practical resolutions to the Alttellurian Affairs Problem.

On Oort 27th, 1526 SE: Theo consults his brother Jai about the Dahlia Echo question, and Jai wants nothing to do with the decision, reluctantly agreeing only to assist with transportation of her suspended body from SASinc to Theo’s medical facility. On the same day, Commander General Montserrat resigns.

On Oort 28th, 1526 SE: Commander Owen Raj'iiral Novak (former Scholar) succeeds Montserrat by CTA (Coalition of Tellurian Affairs) appointment as the Order of Commander Succession was employed to no result; natural successors refused the position.

On Oort 29th, 1526 SE: Theo begins necessary legal steps for the release of Dahlia Echo from the custody of SASinc to the custody of the Bobeck Holding Company’s (BHC) medical facility. No date is yet set for the release of Dahlia Echo from SASinc. On the same day, Commander Novak assigns Corporal Jaisarzen Bobeck to his CoF (Council of Five) which requires the relocation and reassignment of Corporal Bobeck into the Disputed Territories where Alttellurian Affairs are conducted.

On Oort 30th, 1526 SE: Jai tells his brother Theo about his new assignment and relocation. The release of Dahlia Echo is postponed until further notice. Theo continues the proceedings with SASinc.

On Gravitii 2nd, 1526 SE: SASinc is prepared to release Dahlia Echo; Theo postpones in order to arrange transportation. Jai has been briefed by Commander Novak and dares to insist the Commander add Theo to the final seat in his CoF. Commander Novak agrees without reviewing Dr. Bobecks resume or credentials, and rumors spread about former Commander General Bobeck’s son’s being summoned to the Disputed Territories so soon (six months) after their father’s assassination. Public opinion is held like a fates breath to see what happens.

On Gravitii 3rd, 1526 SE: Jai serves Theo his reassignment, an argument ensues, eventually Theo agrees to the assignment and relocation on the conditions his progress with their ancestral request is not hindered. Commander Novak is notified, he requests the documents pertaining to the “suspended being” and discussions are put in limbo.

On Gravitii 4th, 1526 SE: Commander Novak agrees to Dr. Bobeck’s conditions. SASinc is served transportation plans for the suspended body of Dahlia Echo, via Corporal Bobeck’s transport affiliations, and Dr. Bobeck begins relocation to the Disputed Territories.

On Gravitii 5th, 1526 SE: the Halo Medical Facility (in the Ztor Asteroid belt surrounding the rogue planet Hejex 32; center of the Disputed Territories) is authorized for upgrades to accommodate Dr. Bobeck’s Ancestral request, per his specifications.

On Gravitii 16th, 1526 SE: Corporal Jaisarzen Bobeck arrives in the Disputed Territories at the Mirage Command Base located along side the Halo Medical Facility.

On Gavitii 30th, 1526 SE: Dr. Theomaximus Bobeck arrives in the Disputed Territories at the Halo Medical Facility. Commander Novak calls his CoF to order and discusses the Alttellurian Affairs problem. Theo is briefed on the dispute:

1. Alttellurians are basically humanity (Tellurians) evolved differently over time, in a parallel reality. How they got in this reality is in question, but what is not in question is how the "Alttellurians began conquering or destroying everything in their path once they got here."

2. Alttellurians claim to have visited the Disputed Territories long before Tellurian arrival, and the Rogue Planet Hejex 32 is a "sacred star in the sky [they] first arrived in." Tellurians are now mining it, and provde evidence there were no indicators of claim or visit to the territory prior to arrival.

3. Alttellurians do not have a word for peace. They require Tellurian surrender, or destruction.

4. Tellurians cannot simply stop mining and leave (even if they wanted to) because the Alttellurians have assured to hunt and destroy for the attempt to avoid the confrontation or admission of weakness.

5. Alttellurians are more advanced technologically, and [presumed] biologically than Tellurians, in a war toe to toe... Tellurians will lose. 

(Proof Positive: before Commander Bobeck’s death, Alttellurians entirely destroyed five Tellurian occupied planetary systems in as many days. There are 37 Tellurian occupied colonies left.)

No resolutions are proposed in the meeting. Theo postpones unpacking or settling in until he sleeps on the Alttellurian problem. Theo only dreams of history reborn.

On the first solar day of the transition month of Equinoxii 1526 SE: [the last month before the new year] Commander Novak orders the reconvening of his CoF. Theo declines the order and requests instead, all material pertaining to their dealings with the Attellurians, including the base data conclusions were drawn from. Novak declines, reissues his order. Theo declines and reissues his request, including a note that reads “I’m a doctor, Commander, allow me educate myself on my new patient.” Novak agrees and orders the files sent to Dr. Bobeck; he sends Bobeck a note that reads “Tell me what the previous administration missed.” The rest of the Commander’s CoF meets, no resolutions are offered.

On Equinoxii 2nd, 1526 SE: Novak and his CoF reconvene, minus Dr. Bobeck who sends a note “the previous administration was sloppy. Where are the Bobeck administration files?” While the CoF end another day without a proposed resolution to the Alttellurian problem, Dr. Bobeck receives the files from his father’s administration, the first to face the Alttellurians. It was a lot more raw data to work from.

On Equinoxii 3rd, 1526 SE: Commander Novak reconvenes his CoF, minus Dr. Bobeck whom he sends a message reading: “No more notes. Don’t bother showing up until and unless you have a solution to propose.” The CoF continues with their no-joy streak. Dr. Bobeck files a check-status report with SASinc on Dahlia Echo’s transportation and spends the rest of the day getting to know the Alttellurians from the files. He realizes his stuff is unpacked but forgets to ask by whom.

Between Equinoxii 4th and 13th, 1526 SE: the CoF produces no resolutions, SASinc confirms delivery will be by Equinoxii 27th, and Corporal Bobeck begins missing CoF meetings to confer with his brother (he fails to notify anyone).

On Equinoxii 14th, 1526 SE: Commander Novak moves the CoF meeting to the Halo Medical Facility, because the Bobecks became unresponsive to summons, and catch up to the arguments the brothers have been engaged in for days. As rundown by Theo: 

“Problem….

1. “Alts (Alttellurians) are nomadic and superior technologically; we can’t spy on them because we do not know where they are so, we must rely solely on data gathered during negotiations. As already noted, this is unacceptable.

2. “Alts conquer or destroy; we never received clear demands for our terms of surrender except “absolute surrender”… what does that mean to the Alts if destruction is the alternative?

3. “We’ll never conceive a plan to defeat the Alts because we do not know enough about them as a species, or people. So, the question is not whether to surrender or be destroyed, how much to surrender or how to effectively avoid destruction… the question is how do we learn more about the Alts so we can throw something at them they’ve never seen before?”

Debate ensued into the early solar hours of Equinoxii 15th, 1526 CE and by the end of the day, Commander Novak petitioned CTA for a grant in order to deploy a sentinel net of space jockeys and nomads for information on the Alts.

On Equinoxii 16th, 1526 SE: CTA issues the grant, and declares Rewards for verifiable information on the Alts is in effect; rewards are issued to the remaining 37 Tellurian Occupied quadrant’s Tellurian Affairs Departments (TADs) with sole discretion to hand out rewards based on verifiable information, under the condition reports are sent to CTA and the Novak Administration.

Between Equinoxii 17th and 26th, 1526 SE: reports come in across three galaxies, information is verified by each quadrant’s TAD, which then has copies sent to CTA, Commander Novak and his CoF real time, as requested. The CoF spends the time collating the data into categories of usefulness (sometimes in debate). By the 26th, Dr. Bobeck requests the next solar week off to receive and revive Dahlia Echo, Commander Novak reluctantly agrees.

On Equinoxii 27th, 1526 SE: SASinc personnel arrive on Corporal Bobeck’s arranged transportation with the suspended body of Dahlia Echo. Final documents of release are signed and Dr. Theomaximus Bobeck gains custody of Dahlia Echo. She is transported into the reanimation lab upgraded in the Halo Medical Facility. Reanimation procedures begin immediately with the semi-suspended state required to repair all injuries prior to full reanimation.

Between Equinoxii 28th 1526 SE and Mercury 3rd 1527 SE: Dahlia Echo is fully repaired and put into the second and final stages of reanimation under the watchful eye of Dr. Bobeck. Commander Novak and the CoF discover a series of reports that include copies from files that should have been in the Bobeck Administration files, but seemed to have been lost during the Montserrat Administration; they add a 4th problem to Theo’s model “Alt mole or carelessness?”

Mercury 4th, 1527 SE: Commander Novak is impatient for Dr. Bobeck's return to his CoF duties and sends him a message; “We have five months, twelve days, and six hours on the Alts doomsday clock, what are you doing?” Theo replies: “she just woke up, give me one more day.” Novak responds: “I give you 20 hours and I’m sending the new files to your personal library; you’d better come back with insight.” Theo doesn’t get the note, but he does notice the receipt of new files in his library; Dahlia Echo is awake and makes history as the oldest body ever reanimated… a staggering 1,732 (relative) years into her future.

------

Note For Science/Math Junkies Already Doing The Calculations: If Theo wakes Dahlia on Mercury 4th (their January 4th) in the year 1527 SE,  (and she's been suspended since 2017 CE, 1,732 years ago...) than observing United States Daylight Savings Time Leap Year calendars would make the year for Dahlia Echo 3749 CE…. But that's only if SE time were also observing daylight savings time leap years... They don't.

SE time has been in effect since the end of the year 2222 CE (I explain why in the book), where 1 solar year still consists of 12 months but there are 30 days in the first 11 months, and 31 days in the 12th (each day with 24 solar hours which still consist of 60 minutes, with 60 seconds per minute) without leap years...

Therefore, there are actually about 6,490 less days in the SE calendars in the 1,527 years since the change in 2222 CE. 

With that in mind, the actual date for Dahlia's awakening would be more like March 30th 3731 CE to Theo’s Mercury 4th 1527 SE... if the CE calendar was also converted to the shortage of days in the SE year. Hope that makes sense.

Perspective. ;) 

 Enjoy!

-M.E.

201702220022

01:49:38 UTC 

March 21st, 2017 CE

“The Incident”

When she took the gun from the first criminal, she wasn’t thinking about the fake passport in her jean jacket pocket that said she was Dahlia Echo, or about the intelligent, wealthy, handsome, charming man with the “right” connections to get her said passport and an unanticipated flight to Jamaica.

No, she was thinking about how it was her birthday, and as an orphan she was forced to work hard to find the right combination of random kindness and selfishness to satisfy the day’s need to be fulfilling. She was thinking that the gruff, poorly spoken gunman with the onion breath permeating his black ski mask had no right to shine those bloodshot grey eyes so venomously at her; that he was going to die for even pointing the barrel in her direction.

Who robs a restaurant anyway?

The birthday woman was officially thirty-one as of ten minutes before the first robber announced their intentions with rapid gunfire and a smarmy warning. Still, it could have been that Wednesday in February when you think Winter is the universes way of reminding you how lucky you are to live in a global sauna all year -because you just can't take the cold anymore, and it wouldn't have made a difference. It could have been any day things went sour to her ideal and it wouldn't have mattered. She had no intention of dying. 

Her formerly charming companion hit the floor without even pausing to see if she needed help in her dress and heels so, she wrote him out of her mind and took the gun from the man who was practically shaking it at her in threat.

Why do they do that? Emphasis? A bullet makes emphasis; as noted when she blew the top of his head off with a bullet fired from under his jowls. The mist was still expanding it’s coverage with thicker chunks somersaulting end over end when she calmly re-sighted on robber number two without bothering to cock the hammer back.

Recoil tested in the point-blank shot, she let experience and instinct do the calculations when she pulled the trigger on the second gunman as she exhaled, likewise ensuring she wasn’t immediately going to breathe in the blood and brain matter. Whatever sound the bullet made hitting the second gunmans left eyeball, was drowned out by the sound of the firearm going off minus a head to muffle it. Unavoidably, the folks on the floor behind gunman No. 2 not only became wet and sticky with his scrambled eggs, but also the weight of his collapsing corpse.

The third and forth gunmen fired at her simultaneously, one of them missing altogether while the other skimmed her right arm through her jacket as she turned. Despite the pain and the weird sensation of thick blood dripping almost immediately, smearing and making slippery sensations beneath the jean fabric, she didn’t miss a beat to align her sights and kill number three.

A slight turn to square the gun on the forth robber, and she was surprised to realize he was holding his gun by the trigger guard, letting it dangle, his other hand up in a non-threatening gesture. His eyes were seeking her’s out. “I’m an Undercover,” he panted, cautiously aiming his free hand toward his mask even while crouching to drop his gun without as much clatter.

“What’s your badge number?” She countered, hesitating on the final pressure that would send a bullet through his skull like the others. The woman said nothing about him showing his face, it was a handsome face but somehow not as non-threatening as maybe he’d hoped.

He paused. It wasn’t the ‘oh, let me think of a number’ pause, but that ‘what? Like you would even know if I’m lying…’ pause. Then, he rattled off, “sierra alpha zero three six three dash seven nine zero forty-two thirteen.”

Only then did her heart spike, take off at a belated run to burn off the excess adrenaline. He was right; she didn’t have a way to verify his badge number right then, or even what agency, but he seemed to know that too, and said it anyway. He was either a very good liar, or hoping honesty would save him.

The woman with a fake passport naming her Dahlia Echo hadn’t the time to decide what she was thinking about his surrender and undercover confession. She took a breath, eased off the trigger because her finger was feeling slippery (she didn’t want to shoot him on accident), and the Calvary arrived in time to mistake her for the bad guy in a side-line to thought altogether.

While the officers were shouting variations of “drop your weapon” and she turned to face them mid-comply, she had enough time to think ’yeah, I’m single-handedly robbing this restaurant… ” sarcastically before she felt the first impact. 

Didn’t see that coming.

In the time it took the gun to leave the palm of her hand and hit the floor, she was impacted with seventeen bullets, and took another six as her body tipped back from the force of each round.

Ironically, she also finally understood why the films always showed folks dancing like puppets on loose marionette strings… almost wiggling… as each tiny projectile perforates body tissue and explodes outward on the inside (or out the backside) in the absorption of all that velocity and momentum. Yeah, she looked like a well dressed gummy worm for a moment there.

It was understandable, she assured herself before impact with the ground, that her body lost all obedience to her mental command. Shock. She knew she was in shock when she didn’t feel herself hit the ground, but simply woke up on the ground with the undercover man trying to cover all of the holes they put in her while looking at the ones who’d shot her. 

He was shouting by the appearance of how red his face was, how wide he opened his mouth and every vein bulged from his neck and forehead, but she couldn’t hear a word of it.

Her heart was stumbling like a semi teetering off the side of a cliff; her lungs drowning like a wet paper bag in high winds, her limbs were both surged by an electric fire and an alien numbness that pulsed from every wound. Somehow, she managed to cough a bloody, “don’t worry, I’ll be back” before her eyes tore off the Undercover’s surprised and worried face, rolled back, and took her into darkness.

Despite what she said, and she didn’t know why she said that, the woman (with only a fake passport to identify her) wasn’t so sure she was ever going to come back. Twenty three bullets. It was reasonable that no human body could be expected to survive it. Before the black became total lack of consciousness, her last thought just happened to be:

“Happy Birthday to me!” 

With a distant, subconscious nagging, “why didn’t anyone take the headshot?”

--

[201702251058]

19:09:12 UTC January 4th, 3749 CE

(more accurately) March 30th, 3731 CE A.K.A.

19:09:12 UST* Mercury 4th, 1527 SE

“Reintroduction”

She could soak in that warm space between sleeping and dreaming for eternity.

Mmmm, delicious.

Some part of her mind chasing phantom connections to her subconscious while her limbs stretched in their stillness.

Something happened, but she wasn’t thinking about it right now.

No, she was thinking about that handsome but weathered face, sierra alpha blazablah forty-two thirteen. 

The weight of the fates was so crisp, so crystal clear in his hazel eyes so wide she could almost taste the moisture gathering on the brim of his lower lids. It was all so vivid even if she couldn’t remember how she’d met him. His relief in the next moment was as tangible as his alarm in the one after that.

Alarm.

She gasped awake with a startled heart and her consciousness rejecting any memory of what happened after she got off the plane in Jamaica with the man she’d just met… but not forty-two thirteen. 

Even as her eyes blinked too rapidly to see anything of use, her mind tried to remember what Romeo had looked like. It was just last night. A flash of a memory, the replay of how fast he dove out of his seat to hit the restaurant floor, chased away any desire to remember him further. So, the waking woman attempted to remember forty-two thirteen. Who was he?

The air felt thick, moist but not muggy, still and silent save for some extra-sensory vibration that had nothing to do with physical feeling or auditory sound. She couldn’t explain it to herself and shook her head on the pillowed surface beneath her. It felt like a bed, but somehow a 360 bed –so, more like a cocoon. That seemed startlingly wrong, and her amber eyes tried to focus beyond herself while her mind reeled back the memories of what happened despite her emotional protests.

A sick feeling overwhelmed her as it all rushed back like a mac truck doing a hundred in a school zone. 

Dahlia sat up so fast she hit her head on a barrier she hadn’t seen, and still couldn’t see when she went looking for it. Panic pushed her hands in opposite directions, meeting the same barrier on either side, all sides, mapping the tubular container she was sealed in with growing unease. There was no floor, she might as well be floating, excepting she wasn’t… she distinctly felt she was sitting on a substance of some solidity, and the air had a tangibility to it that went beyond the refreshing inhale.

Jamaica didn’t strike her as the place for a high tech clean room tube thing, but what did she know? Dahlia couldn’t even tell herself how much time had passed, or why she wasn’t in any pain aside from her head-butt against the invisible shield.

That’s when her eyes went down her body and realized she was naked. Not just naked, but without a single scar where any of the bullets should have made a Frankenstein monster out of her, despite all of her old scars being right where she left them.

The sense of claustrophobia grew with the lack of bullet scarring for some reason, or maybe being naked in some kind of med-capsule complete with totally transparent walls, and the woman threw her shoulder into the barrier followed by a pounding of her fists. 

The hoarseness of her voice was lost on her, shouting only to herself to be let out as she tried to see beyond and determine where “out” would actually take her. It didn’t matter that she’d already swept the room with her eyes, she was doing it again as if for the first time because her mind was refusing to accept the reality of her circumstances.

The first striking feature she noticed was a distinct slate grey seamlessness of the windowless walls which lacked so much as a glimmer of reflection of the light that illuminated the room from a source she couldn’t pinpoint. It was like the light just was, not that it came from anywhere, and the walls were seamless not just for lack of windows, or doors, but any distinctive sides. 

It was a Tetris-piece shaped room that was also all curves. No start, no end, occupied by no one, and nothing but her and the med-capsule/tube thing she was unnervingly suspended in but couldn’t see, about four and a half feet off the ground, in the center of the room.

I’ve got to be dreaming…

Worse, despite hearing her voice, the force of her fists made no sound or movement against the barrier; it was like hitting a brick wall coated in ballistic glass that absorbed the impact and the sound it made, but not the sting of pain she felt in the effort. 

Dahlia couldn’t process the reality of what was going on, her brain was misfiring in efforts to fill in the blanks of her understanding, and the physical reality of what she was experiencing. Even telling herself it was a dream didn’t seem real, her mind rejected the notion that waking up was possible, and kept driving home the urge to get out.

Get out now!

Unnerved, she tried to look for controls, or a seam, anything to indicate a way out, but barely made it down one side of barrier before a figure caught her attention from the corner of her eye. She didn’t see where he’d come from. He wasn’t wearing a labcoat like she’d expect on a doctor, nor carrying a medical chart on a clip board or in a folder. He carried nothing but his self, and he did that with an air of authority softened around the edges by curiosity and awe.

He was a tall, lean man in an equally boring slate-grey uniform that was as seamless as the room, but inclusive of boots and gloves. As curious as she was about how he got in and out of the body suit, her eyes honed in on the patches over his right pec. One might have been a rank, or title, the other a name, but only based on her experiences because Dahlia couldn’t recognize the symbols. A person. She wasn’t alone anymore. He could give answers and get her out of this… whatever it was!

Panting, she forgot about her nudity and pounded on the barrier in vain, watching the man’s calm and awe-struck approach with some resentment. Like the patches, the words that tumbled from his lips were alien to her. Though his shortly cropped and curly brown hair, clean shaven face, and intelligent hazel-green eyes looked human enough, there was something about his face (it was all she could see of him) that unnerved her more. Some part of her kept yelling ‘inhuman!’ for reasons she couldn’t seem to pin down. Whatever he was saying, it was obvious he wanted her to stop hitting the barrier.

In response, she hit it harder, like a banshee hulking out, but it was likewise in vain. Simply a physical manifestation of her mental frustration in the realization she wasn’t entirely sure what was real anymore. 

Did I even get shot? Did I die? Is this purgatory? Hell?

It sure doesn't look like Heaven, even if Mr. Uniform is handsome in a strange way.

Dahlia mourned the lack of mechanical equipment and tangible lines and needles running from her body, beeps and boops keeping everything regulated, maybe even the soon-to-die vases of beautiful flowers and those reflective get-well balloons only worth the helium it takes to fill them. Nevermind the windows, even tiny ones, and patients, nurses, doctors, and visitors all bustling about the corridors; Dahlia felt like a stranger in someone else’s dream, everything she was experiencing seemed so damned alien. 

She’d have even welcomed some familiar handcuffs if her identity as a victim of the robbery was still in question; but this…?

Eventually, she got tired of the pain and effort that lead to nothing, and quit hitting the barrier anyway, panting.

It was only natural for her primitive mind to consider she was locked in some foreign military base. Even so, the tech (the force field tubular bubble keeping her suspended mid-air and stopping her from getting out for example), wasn’t like anything she’d read about. Fear was as potent as survival instinct, but somehow she stayed calm enough to realize the man had caught on to her lack of understanding and was attempting charades.

It looked a lot like he was giving her the “go to sleep” motion, hands placed palms together and then tucked against one cheek tilted down to lay upon the hand-sandwich like a pillow.

She shook her head with a “not going to happen” expression aimed in his direction.

He shook his head, assuming correctly she was misunderstanding. His eyes went away from the pod, but he wasn’t looking at anything in the room (there was nothing to look at as far as Dahlia could tell), he was recalculating his hand gestures and decided to abandon them altogether. Right there, in the middle of the floor, the impeccably presented man of unknown origin got down on his bum and then laid back with his hands at his sides. His eyes were distinctly open, and for a long while, staring blankly upwards.

When he caught her looking, he pointed at her, and then waved his hand down his body before resuming his position- eye placement and all.

Was he a Doctor afterall? Did he want her to lay back for a final scan before letting her go? How very Star Trek, she thought, but nodded this time and adjusted her body to comply. Slowly. Cautiously. Without taking her eyes off of him while he rose back to his feet.

In doing so, however, she was reminded she wasn’t in a hospital gown, she was naked. Every old scar and tattoo, every unshaved hair, mole, and freckle was visible on her skin so, she couldn’t stop herself from blushing but she did stop herself from covering up self-consciously as she awaited the magic of science to release her from her medical prison.

Instead, some lights blinked on; illuminating a mist she didn’t know she was breathing in but explained the substance to the air, glowing in different shades around her body which apparently told the man on the other side of the boundary something.

He seemed torn between amusement, awe, and relief while she was torn between the fight or flight instinct, being naked in front of a strange man, and somewhere she couldn’t begin to pinpoint on any map or building schematic.

The confused woman watched helplessly as his nimble fingers flipped through the data on some kind of hologaphic-screen he commanded in foreign words to appear before him. Everything was backwards to her, but it wouldn’t have mattered because the data was as foreign looking to her as the symbols on his patches, and the words that came from his lips.

What the fuck is going on?!

She was trembling, both from nervous energy in need of a physical release despite her attempts to be still, and an inability to stop herself from flexing every muscle in the overwhelming urge to get the fuck out of the pod, to figure out where she ended up. Dahlia’s brain kept doing somersaults in her skull like an eight ball trying to get the right answer to show up in the view-port.

About to sit up and start banging again, she noticed the man had made some kind of determination and tapped at the air where the screen was displaying for him, releasing her before she could demand it.

In a whoosh, the force-field collapsed like a bubble being popped from the top. As it descended, she couldn’t see the walls falling, but she could feel the fresher, somehow thinner and dryer air of the actual room assault her lungs and naked body. Dahlia couldn’t wait; the woman vaulted over the perceived edge of the collapsing bubble before the bottom could give out under her, and landed on what felt like cold tile floors with a similar (but different and faint) kind of vibration running through it.

Airplane? She wondered, with a side of this isn’t like any hospital I’ve ever been in.

Not one to dwell on it long, too aware of her nakedness and the reality she couldn’t seem to tell where the door in or out of the room was, or why the floor felt flat but looked curved, the woman was stunned into stillness.

The man had his hands up in a non-threatening way, his eyes watched her like she was a wild animal he wanted to trust him, but knew well enough not to count on it right away. He was cautious. It was obvious he had no idea what she’d do next.

Mourning the loss of the absent lab coat once again, the woman realized she didn’t want to fight him and if she was going to run, she’d have to run naked because she had no idea how to take off a seamless uniform.

She didn’t run. She watched him, and waited.

He was talking to her so soothingly, she wished she understood his words. Next thing she knew, he was talking in a commanding tone, but not to her.

Dahlia couldn’t tell who he was talking to, since the room was otherwise empty and she didn’t see a phone on him, or a Bluetooth device, or even a tell-tale ear piece.

Before she could let her eyes take another full sweep of the seamless room, one of the walls opened up like an eyelid and blinked out two women in similar uniforms as the man. Only, the two women had stuff in their hands. Dahlia had a hard time focusing on the objects, because like the man, the women’s faces were slightly inhuman. She couldn’t seem to put a finger on the abnormality, but her instincts kept rejecting them as any part of humanity she knew despite how human they otherwise looked. It seemed impossible to get out of DEFCON ONE, and suddenly, the naked woman just took off running afterall.

She had no idea where the doors were, or how they worked, but the dark haired dame ran at the smaller end of the curvy Tetris piece-like room where the man had emerged from, and hoped the wall would open up for her. It did. The door blinked open as she rushed through it, emptying into a hallway that was like a tube as seamless as the room, and a new choice presented itself.

First, she turned to confirm the door closed behind her again, with a side of wondering how any of them knew what room was what, or where to approach the doors. Then, she had to make that choice.

Left or right?

Those were her immediate options and she had absolutely nothing to indicate which would be a better option, as both sides disappeared into identical turns away, at as many paces apart. It suggested maybe there were rooms along this hall on the other side, but rooms might include other inhuman people so, she went left. 

No reason, she just bolted left… naked… down the strange hall and took its right hand turn away from where she’d come from.

The floor had the same flat tile feel (despite the curved appearance), almost like ceramic tile but not, and especially not while it vibrated under her feet like a distant hum that kept telling her they were moving even though she couldn’t seem to sense in what direction or how quickly. 

Like the other hall, this one was also a seamless tunnel, but it had three junctions before the end where it T’d off in another left or right decision.

Dahlia ran right past the first junction, hearing voices down the corridor; she didn’t even look to verify their visual path and just hoped they didn’t see her streaking past as she listened for some notion of surprise or exclamation. Fortunately, she heard none, and went to turn down the second junction when she sensed more than saw the wall open up about fifty paces down. Huffing an unspoken curse through her flaring nostrils, the naked woman redirected to skitter past the opening before the person could stroll into the hall and see her.

The third junction was only a few feet away, on the other side, and her dark hair floated behind her as she went for it at a sprint. Lucky duck that she turned out to be, there was no one there, and Dahlia pitter-pattered on the pads of her feet and toes down to a three way juncture more Y-like than T-like; one she never expected inside a structure. On impulse the escaped patient went left, got half way to a right venturing juncture when she heard someone behind her say something foreign that sounded a lot like “there she is!” in tone, and stupidly looked back.

They, two of them, were pointing at her but looking down the other hall at someone else.

It’s easy to spot a naked, tattooed woman in a place full of slate-grey body-suit uniforms that almost blend into the seamless tunnel-like walls. Even knowing that, Dahlia couldn’t seem to stop herself from trying to flee, to escape the strange place, to find something or someone familiar to orient and solidify her barring.

She went for the right hall even as she swiveled her head forward to see where she was going, but it was too late; the naked woman had too much momentum to stop herself from slamming right into a burly man, caught entirely by surprise as she rounded the corner.

The second it happened, he was definitely the more surprised person during impact, but as her amber eyes lifted to catch sight of (and apologize to) the man she ran into, Dahlia took the lion’s share of surprise. 

 It felt like she was looking at a younger, slightly inhuman, shaven headed, and far more muscular version of the Undercover she didn’t shoot just yesterday (perspectively.) 

What?! Yes, she thought it and gasped a breath full of him at the same time.

That sliver of familiarity made it surprisingly easy to see the moment he realized she recognized him, as surely as the moment she also rejected it on account of the differences.

Both of them wore looks of confusion so thick neither seemed to notice they were holding on to one another. Dahlia wasn’t in threat of falling back anymore, nor him in threat of being mowed over by her momentum (as if he ever was, he was nearly three times her size!), they were stationary and caught in the momentum of thoughts intertwined on totally different levels of understanding.

–Maybe too, the sudden and unexpected sensation of the other plastered against their bodies; at least, for Dahlia’s naked skin, the warmth of his body couldn’t be hidden by that uniform anymore than his muscular contours so, for a moment of suspended thought-capacity, she was strictly a primal female shocked by the brunt of chemistry flooding her body. This was forty-two thirteen, only he clearly wasn’t, and more than ever, Dahlia questioned whether or not she was dreaming.

It was obvious he had no idea who she was, but that didn’t seem to stop him from feeling the full force of metaphysical weight Dahlia slung around in trying to grasp her situation. 

Maybe the fact she was naked helped her damsel in distress moment, but he didn’t call out, he asked her a question she couldn’t understand. Even his voice had a familiarity to it, despite being in a language she didn’t recognize, and an octave or so higher than the Undercover but still so low it boomed in his hushed whisper. He was concerned.

She didn’t know what he was asking, but she knew it was asked out of concern for her wellbeing. He was probably asking if she was alright, or lost, or something equally mundane, but Dahlia didn’t get a chance to try out an answer before a flock of five strolled around the corner. Among them, the first face the escaped patient saw when she woke, the two women with the objects in hand, and the two that pointed her out mere heart beats ago.

There was no real reason to feel threatened by them, but Dahlia did, and her hands fisted in the tunic top of the burly man’s slightly different slate-grey uniform. That the fabric gave, stretched into her grip and off of his body, made it all the more apparent it was made of something she’d never before touched. The amber-eyed woman let him go almost as quickly, and tried to back into the wall, but she found his hand steadily at the small of her spine, gloved fingers tightening against her skin in denial.

Burly-man’s eyes were honest, imploring her to trust while his voice intoned words she didn’t know, threaded with soothing notes.

At first she resisted, flattened her hands into his chest and tried (uselessly) to push him back. She might as well have been pushing against an Elephant; he didn’t budge, but turned to face the other man, who was talking to Mr. Burly.

They traded words, seemingly about her, and from where she stood in the gloved hands of the larger man, it seemed a whole lot like he was explaining her situation to the man who was more likely the doctor. They knew each other, obviously, arguing like a married couple before the smaller one took an object from one of the women and offered it with a huff to the larger man.

He only took one hand off of Dahlia, and she watched him like the animal they sensed her to be, mistrusting and dangerous if they made the wrong move… naked or not. None of them were projecting malicious vibes, she didn’t feel like they were trying to hurt her, but the whole situation was so alien, Dahlia didn’t trust any of them.

She watched in trembling silence while the large man showed her the object. A sleek, pencil-sized cylinder of a pitch black that didn’t seem to have a distinctive top or bottom, and certainly no sign of if or how it opened let alone what it was for. Their escaped patient looked at him blankly and he smiled back at her, as if he expected as much and thought it was cute.

Dahlia ignored how that made her feel and tried to understand what he was doing with the device when he flipped it around in his hand like he knew which way was the business end. He leaned his chin down with a turn of his shoulders so she could see him air-align the business-end to the back of his neck.

The KKKchh-shhhsssssssssssssss sound he made startled the woman, making him chuckle (what a delicious sound) while she gasped and the others shifted uncomfortably on their feet. When she realized it was just a sound effect, one he made in demonstration, she cracked a smile in the wake of his laughter; no harm done.

The device was for the back of the neck, it was supposed to do something, but maybe it was a single use whatever, and he couldn’t fully demonstrate… She tried to deduce and logic her way through the situation.

Dahlia could tell he was hyper aware of her mistrust, and lack of understanding, but it took too many heart beats for him to decide how best to proceed and she became hyper aware of her nudity again. Her proximity to him and the others was like an ocean of energy on the swing of a rising tide for Dahlia. None of them seemed to mind or notice in the moment, except the big guy (who couldn’t avoid taking notice) with his hand on her spine and his honey-hazel eyes watching hers. It was potent, thick, tasted in a not entirely complimenting pallet of emotional turmoil.

Still, he pushed on without so much as a smirk about the naked woman’s condition and used the device to point at his lips while he said something. Explaining something. She tried not to allow herself to be distracted by the beauty of his lips, to make sense of the gesture, but it just looked like he was using it as a recorder. 

Then, he pointed the device at Dahlia’s ears, one at a time, and she started to get an inkling of the notion she understood what the device was –or perhaps more specifically, she was beginning to understand what he was trying to communicate.

As if he sensed her uncertainty, or read it on her face, he palmed the device and stuck out his index finger to point between her mouth and his, a universal sign Dahlia knew to signify a conversation. She didn’t have trouble hearing him, just understanding what his words meant, and that realization brought her to the possibility the device would fix that. 

While she didn’t know how, all of them seemed to be waiting for her to accept it so that communication didn’t have to be in hand gestures and body language. At this point, what did she have to lose?

“Okay.” She said, though it seemed equally obvious they didn’t understand her either. Dahlia took her hands off the big guy’s chest (ignoring how her skin mourned the loss of contact) and pulled her hair away from her neck, surprised to find it much longer than she remembered it. With a turn in his hand, shivering as he simply let the gloved fabric slide against her back to her side, the brunette tilted her chin down to expose the back of her neck and heard the others take a collective sigh of relief.

Dahlia held her breath as she felt him lean in, getting a good look at her spine to line the device up right, but then it was just cool metal pressed to her skin, followed by a single beep, and then a warm sensation racing up her spine and into her brain.

Her scarred hands abandoned her hair and reached for anything in range; mostly the burly man, though she couldn’t immediately distinguish which parts of him she was desperately holding on to. She felt light headed, swayed, and was actually glad the big guy hadn’t let go of her yet.

Behind her, Dahlia could hear the other man again, speaking steadily to her, but she didn’t understand any of it at first. Then, only a few words, but eventually, all of them. It was amazing, and also disorienting. As much as she was looking at the burly man who kept her on her feet, Dahlia didn’t actually see him so much as sense his intense study of her reaction.

“Nod if you understand.” The other man concluded softly.

Dahlia nodded, turning in the other man’s hands and resisting the urge to see the concerned and watchful look on his face. She wanted to face the man who’d been the first one she saw when she woke up, the one who asked her to nod.

The look on his face was… apprehensive… maybe excited with a heavy side of i-don’t-know-what-I’m-doing. It was not comforting.

Her hands found themselves on the burly man’s arms, and by the pressure in her grip, stopping him from considering abandoning her naked skin while she adjusted to the strangeness of hearing foreign words but also understanding their meaning in her mind… yes, she was using the big guy like a live grounding wire.

“Our language has been uploaded into the… language center of your brain. In order for us to understand yours, we need you to speak to us. Please, repeat after me.” He paused, his head tilted to the side slightly as if he could tell the difference between Dahlia understanding and choosing not to respond, and not understanding what was going on at all. Whatever he saw, he went on as if she agreed; “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.”

She knew this phrase, and she smirked despite herself; repeating in English, “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.”

He went on with more phrases, and Dahlia was entirely unsure how they were meant to help, but presumed it had to do with linking the knowledge in her mind with theirs, using whatever they injected into her spine as the transmitters.

“Zero, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, and nine.”

“They took their daughter to lunch over there.”

“You won’t know your future unless you’re precognitive.”

“Time hides like summer days on winter nights, there all the time but requiring oversight.”

And then some of the words weren’t translating, and the concepts intertwined within them didn’t come into Dahlia’s immediate comprehension. They had enough of a basis to communicate with, but something was startlingly obvious (…not in Jamaica anymore), and she had a hard time accepting it.

One of the women quietly intoned, “That’s enough, Theo. I believe the lady could do with some nourishment, perhaps genuine rest, and certainly –gentlemen- one of your jackets in the meantime, no?”

There were four men in the hall, only three of them startled into action and began removing their seamless coats with some kind of hand-movement. Dahlia was too distracted in trying to watch all of them to make sense of how it worked.

The big guy was second to the first face Dahlia saw (the woman called him Theo), who handed her his coat in a suddenly naked hand, a moment before Mr. Burly, while the third seemed to have spent too long in trying to determine how to offer it to her in the first place. Where did his gloves go? Dahlia was asking herself.

She didn’t need help knowing where to slide her arms in, but once she had Theo’s coat on her shoulders, her arms down the too-long sleeves, and looked at the two sides for a zipper, Velcro, or even snaps, Dahlia realized there was nothing to connect to the other side.

Holding the two sides together wasn’t getting anything done but making her look ‘silly with a side of vintage sexy.’ (The man who kept his coat murmured that one under his breath.) -Which, of course, caused all the men to fidget their hands in undecided urges to assist the dressing woman, but just the same not to get that close to her.

It was one of the women, a fire-engine red-head with a welcoming, somewhat amused smile who saved Dahlia. Ignoring the men, the red-head stood in front of the brunette and took her hands while making sure Dahlia was still holding the hem together. In one smooth motion, the (assumed) nurse guided the patient’s other hand upward along the right side. She was startled to see the fabric on the left reach out toward the right like it was magnetically drawn, only to seal together in a seamlessness that left her wondering what the hell she was wearing. The red-head took notice, but said nothing when she stepped back in silent satisfaction.

On Theo, the coat was short and fit around his broad shoulders and trim waist, but for Dahlia it was droopy around the neck with her slender shoulders not filling it in, and tight around her wider hips so she looked like she wore an 80’s style grey mini-dress with long sleeves and missing sequins. Dahlia told herself it was better than being naked, but when she glanced up with an ‘all covered’ expression, the look on each of the men’s faces said the false modesty of it was somehow more alluring than her nudity.

Surprised, Dahlia cleared her throat and attempted to ignore the sensations that brought on while she went for the seriousness of her situation. “Where am I?” Before even thinking to do introductions, and not bothering to hide the malcontent in her voice, Dahlia demanded information before anyone could decide what to do with her next.

“Before I answer that, Lizzotte is correct; you’re in need of nourishment and genuine rest. I will answer your questions on the way to the kitchen.” Theo took control of responding, while not actually answering Dahlia’s question. He swept one of his bare hands back the way she’d come, and stood in his now coverall looking uniform (as in a tank-top like shirt seamlessly melded with his pants and boots) as if it were every bit as distinguished as when he had the coat on. Over Dahlia’s shoulder, he addressed the burly man in the same breath. “You may carry on, Corporal. -Oh, and Corporal… don’t mention this to anyone else, alright?”

Dahlia looked over her shoulder to see the burly man standing there with his coat opened to his similar coverall under shirt seamlessly attached to his trousers- but it looked more like a wrestler’s get up on him because of his size. He didn’t look happy, more like… disgruntled and maybe even offended, but he didn’t say anything to Theo but a monotone “Yessir.”

To her surprise, the Corporal looked down at her and met her gaze while he used her body to shield from the others, the way he slid a finger up her covered spine in a not-so-subtle reminder of how sensitive she was; whispering to her “You’re not like any murderous cavewoman I imagined… I hope we run into one another again soon.”

...murderous cavewoman?

Just like that, he turned and let his touch slide away like none of it ever happened. Not continuing in the direction he was going in the first place, but making an about face before he headed back the way he came and left Dahlia to face Theo, the two nurses, and the other two men.

Before she could address eating or getting her first question answered, she looked to Theo’s waiting hand and ignored it to ask him; “What’s the Corporal’s name?”

Theo looked surprised before his discomfort took over and Lizzotte gave him an extra moment by asking if he needed her (and the other nurse’s) assistance anymore, which he gratefully took when he dismissed all of them with a reminder not to mention this (Dahlia) to anyone.

He waited until it was just Dahlia and him in the hall before he could look her in the eyes to answer honestly without sounding disappointed she was asking at all. “That Corporal… is my brother,” he seemed to hesitate admitting the relation, “Corporal Jaisarzen Bobek, but most call him Jai, or Corporal. I’m Dr. Theomaximus Bobeck, but please, call me Theo, Miss. Echo.”

That’s when it hit her. Echo. Dahlia Echo. Her alias in Jamaica. They didn’t know who she really was, and by the looks of the place she ended up in, she wasn’t sure she wanted them to know. Whether he noticed her surprise or not, she nodded as she offered her right hand to him, slightly overtaken by the sleeve of his jacket. “Please, Dahlia is fine.”

Instantly, his mood seemed to improve as his articulate lips spread into a helpless grin. His hand shot forth to take hers before he realized he didn’t really know what she wanted him to do with it, unless she was accepting his earlier invitation to walk her to the kitchen and answer her questions. Actually touching her, a woman from the past living and breathing (and wearing his coat with nametag and all) in the present was such a sublime experience he was slow to realize she was shaking his hand firmly in hers.

The handshake was lost to time, and Theo had no idea what she was doing or what it meant to her; to him, it was the surreal reality of contact with a person from the past. He could feel the warmth and softness of her skin, her singular heart beat, and her deceptive strength. When he felt her begin to release his hand, he held on, unsure what he was going to do until he found his other hand taking over the other side, cupping her hand in both of his. He pulled her closer, slowly, not giving in to her resistance, but not forcing her like a barbarian either. Calm determination.

Dahlia didn’t know what to make of Theo’s insistence in shrinking their proximity, but eventually she gave in to it in favor of progress. She allowed him to pull her as close to his bare armed body as she’d been to his fully clothed brother, her eyes not having to rise as high to meet Theo’s. Entranced, she watched his awe-like intensity whiles he side-stepped to her right and threaded her hand through the crook of his left arm like a 19th century Gentleman.

As it happened, he was radiating hard-restrained primal intent beneath a softer, more welcoming archaic practice of courtship. At least, Dahlia seemed sure, even while she was also unsure on account of his role in answering her questions and directing her to the kitchen, he was trying to charm her. Maybe she was projecting her own desires restrained like a pack of wolves circling within one tight cage.

To her relief, the tension that sang through his arm beneath her fingers was all the side-note he offered in awareness to her restrained excitement. He kept hold of her hand upon his arm like he feared she’d slip away if he didn’t hold on to her, and started back down the maze of tubular halls without windows or doors as if he knew exactly how to navigate them. 

Before she could remind him of his promise to provide answers, she heard him inhale a telling breath and release it too fast to hold any for speech. He was stalling, or choosing his words carefully, but eventually that telling breath came again, and she turned her gaze to watch the foreign words leave his lips.

“I can tell you that you’re in the Halo Medical facility, but that won’t mean anything to you. To answer your question, Dahlia, you’ll have to bear with me for a moment while I backtrack a little.” His head tilted in a manner that suggested he’d have made a hand gesture if he wasn’t holding so securely to his patient.

Dahlia didn’t know what to say to that, or what he meant by it, so she said the only thing she could think of; “Go on.”

“About six months ago, my Father died-“ He took his hand off Dahlia’s just long enough to stop her from consoling him, “and in his will was a request from an ancient ancestor.” When he paused, he didn’t just pause what he was saying, he halted them three quarters of the way down a hall that only had junctions on the ends. With his uncertain breath speaking volumes for him, he reached his free hand toward the seamless wall and made a gesture with two fingers before it. 

The wall blinked open like the doors, but this time it revealed a window so pure there wasn’t a trace of light or reflection, nor any sense of density between the hall and outside the window. Dahlia wasn’t just looking at space, she could see asteroids the size of mountains seemingly suspended in the opening so clearly she had the urge to jump through and swim to them. Irrational. Like the urge to jump off a high building when you get near the edge.,

Beyond them was a distant star of red hue only visible because of the gaseous cloud of blues and teals that served as an even more distant (though colossal) backdrop sputtered with twinkling white lights. Earth, nor any sign of a familiar star pattern, was anywhere in sight.

“Earth was rendered uninhabitable in the 23rd century,” Theo was reciting somberly, “after The Invasion of 2222 CE, and we took to the stars. You’ve been suspended for over a thousand and seven hu-“

Dahlia didn’t hear the rest of what he said, someone spun her eight-ball on the table and her vision swam. Her hands clung to his bare arm, her legs lost strength, and eventually her eyes rolled back as her body gave up. Her mind hit the reset button. 

Yep, she fainted.

--

* UST = United Solar Time, better described in the next chapter.

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