Backup Procedures chapter 2

            Drawn by plumes of thin black smoke, twin helicopters flew towards the beachside encampment. On the lee side of a natural cove, the camp was aflame. The few primitive buildings were burning merrily, while the beached speedboats had their engines ripped out and then set ablaze. Out in the cove a larger ten meter fishing vessel had been split in two, both halves resting in the clear shallow water.

            As the elderly, but refurbished, Blackhawks neared, movement became clearer. About a dozen soldiers in body armor were moving about the camp. Their camouflage obscured things, but it became clear that half of them were moving crates towards what had to be a landing zone. Bodies filled the pathways between the buildings and were left in place. Most were in too many pieces to easily move anyway. The other half of the team were clearing debris out of the landing zone and standing guard with the wounded.

            "Even when recon screws up, they try to make a good show of it," Captain Torada, the pilot, said, radioing the recon team.

            "Just as long as we didn't interrupt their lunch," Lieutenant Pierce said from the copilot's seat.

            Spraying dust, the helicopters descended on the impromptu landing zone. Still holding their bulky carbines, the recon team ran towards the transports and boarded. A couple formed a line and heaved a few of the crates onboard where they were secured. Torada turned back and saw one of the recon troops leaning towards him.

            Her flawless, unearthly pale features contrasted with viscera splattered on her worn uniform. Toranda reflected that that was expected for the Descended. "Just the three wounded, Sergeant?" he shouted over the engines.

            "Yes Sir, Rich our technician, Fritz his spotter, and one of my girls." Sergeant Somerset said after switching her headset to the helicopter's channel. She looked out the window to make sure the rest of the team, including Lieutenant Vojtech had boarded the other helicopter.

            "Right," Toranda looked further back to see Sergeant Ramirez work over the two  casualties. Gasping in pain, the Descended had been badly mangled by shrapnel. One arm hung uselessly and there were multiple wounds where her body armor had been breached. Like the others she kept her wings folded against her back, but they were clearly damaged with bloody rips all along the membranes. Her pale skin was smeared with dark, almost black blood dripped onto the decking. Short, dark green hair was plastered against her skull and helmet.

            Her tail was curled around her thigh, the spade-shaped fins on the end flattened against her leg. Most of her wounds had been attended to and her partner was helping Ramirez's assistant stabilize the diminutive woman. Bearing a gentle smile the bonze-brown skinned Descended assured the wounded woman while giving her horns a gentle caress. Despite the engine noise, her boxy grenade launcher an audible clunk when she let it drop onto the helicopter's floor.

            Meanwhile, Ramirez focused his attention on Specialist Richard Weiss the recon team's technician. He bore the grey subdermal modifications, metal-tipped thumbnails, and dot-etched combat knife of his profession. Ramirez looked at the technician's dog tags and noted the man's medical information and wishes. Compared to his Descended team mate his gut-shot wound seemed minor, but that was triage on mixed teams. The simple fact was that the Descended could take a lot more abuse.

            "If things take a turn you don't want any help?" Ramirez asked, eyes darting to Somerset.

            The technician shook his head and leaned back. Ramirez nodded and went back to work.

            "What's the holdup Brian?" Toranda radioed the other pilot. He could see Somerset's agitated expression, as she tried to keep her own tail from moving.

            "Right, my medic wanted to stabilize his guy before we took off." Captain Brian Hickory radioed back.

            "Understood." Toranda said. In less than a minute the helicopters lifted back off.

            Once airborne Somerset visibly relaxed and went to talk to her men.

            "Stupid hick colonists, it's like they think they're the first ones take a few boats, and steal from whatever ship that passes their way," Pierce grumbled.

            "Half the traffic going between Pitratucu's locks passes through this strait, Sir," Somerset said returning to her seat. "They put some thought into this. They had a supplier and some training. These were a bit more than just some gommers with RPGs. They had some real anti-armor enough to pop a pressure hull if they got close. They also had the sense to not attack any merchantman that had armed guards up."

            "Maybe we'll get a trace of the ones we caught," Pierce said.

            "Their operation seems to be much larger than corporate thought it was," Toranda nodded.

            "You need a lot of loot to keep a hundred pirates happy." Somerset agreed. "And they weren't total gommers, they knew the bush. They knew something was wrong. They were getting ready to bug out."

            Toranda glanced at Peirce but the co-pilot held his tongue. They both knew how seriously recon teams took their missions, especially when corporate left things appropriately vague. If anything having mixed teams made the matter worse, as the Descended and humans seemed to egg each other on.    

            "At least pirates are easy to deal with out here," Toranda noted, giving the smoke rising from the burnt-out encampment a final glance.

           

***************

            Professor Bruce Teage walked up the gently sloping ramp to the ruins antechamber. Standing before the statuary was a droopy looking man, sweating in a cheap suit with an ugly tie.

            Teage grinned at the man's wispy brown hair. Shaving his own head was far more dignified than trying to cling to scraps. "Mr. Pascal wonderful to see you!" He brightly said, clasping a tanned hand over his visitor's pale arm.

            "Er, yes, this is quite the operation you have," Gerard Pascal squinted along the stone carved room. A sloped ramp was centered in each wall of the pentagonal room. The one behind Pascal lead up to sunlight, while the other four lead down and were lit with bright shop-lights.

            "All courtesy of the Office of Naval Research's generous grants." Teage released the man's hand.

            A large fan pushed air down into the chambers, causing wind to buffet Pascal's suit-coat and Teage's vest. Bright orange power cables ran along the polished stone floor. Abstract swirls, compact diagrams, and lines of dense pointillist text adorned the walls. Thin sheets of crystal had been bonded to the walls protecting the carvings. Though some had gone a bit cloudy with age.

            However Pascal's attention was on another crystal-protected carving. In the center of the room was a four meter high solid cylinder of mostly-clear crystal. The statue within was of a Maker. Radically symmetric its three meter tall body was wide, roughly barrel-shaped, with vertical ribs.

            Five long spade-tipped tentacles that curled around the base like the gnarled roots of a tree. Midway up the body was another set of rubbery limbs. More slender, each of manipulator arm split into eight ball and socket-jointed claw-tipped fingers.

            Instead of a head the creature's body terminated in a crown of five horn like protuberances. These sense organs surrounded a collection of stamen-like stalks and tongues that flared out of the axially-placed mouth.

            Above the manipulator arms were a of membranous wings. By their very count they stood out from the rest of the creature. At a wingspan of barely over two meters they also seemed woefully insufficient to loft such a large being.

            "My," Pascal adjusted his tie.

            "It's an impressive work isn't it?" Teage put a hand to the crystal. "It almost looks alive doesn't it? Slumbering the ages away?"

            For a moment, Pascal's expression hardened. "Yes, it seems so... alien."

            "Oh no. Far from it." Teage beamed. "They've got remarkable similarities with many earth organisms. Not just externally but in their protein structures and regulatory mechanisms. They don't have DNA but their genetic analogs function much the same. There's some interesting theories on convergent evolution, though I'll confess given the sea life we've found on the Inner colonies there'd have been quite a bit of parallel Maker and Earth origin life."

            "Before the Makers started collecting on Earth that is."

            "Naturally," Teage gave a forced smile. "Perhaps that's what brought them to Earth in the first place. Either way, a real alien you'll need to look at the Squids. Their physical makeup actually has a degree of superposition. Rather like the Locks I've been told."

            "That does sound far stranger," Pascal frowned at the statue.

            "Don't be embarrassed, it shocks many people their first time. So few will ever get to see a Maker. I fear this is the closest you'll get in a long time."

            "I see." Pascal inclined his head. "The wings, just two?"

            "That's actually quite fascinating. Although the adults possess pentaradial, or five-sided, symmetry. Their larvae are free-swimming bilaterally symmetric organisms. Those wings actually start out as very capable fins, but as the Maker grows the left side overtakes the right and they take the shape you see now." Teage grinned.

            "And they can fly? Like a Descended, in air?"

            Deciding not to insult the man Teage held his tongue. "Exactly like that, they both use the same aetheric-save suspension mechanism."

            "I heard of that," Pascal said.

            Teage gave a tight smile. "It's is a handy, but technically incorrect, explanation for Maker flight. Descended too. Flight being one of the gifts the they were granted." Turning back to the statue he missed Pascal's expression.

            "That's not a natural ability?"

            "Naturally not. The Makers have adapted their bodies extensively. We actually think that their original adult form was sessile and that they were dependent on their spawn to bring them food and later raw materials for tool-making."

            "Fascinating," Pascal nodded. "Perhaps a reason why the Makers continued to collect and create servitor species?"

            "Perhaps," Teage allowed, his face guarded.

            Pascal nodded at the middle-aged wiry man. "And this facility? Aquatic research if I recall?" he adjusted his glasses, jittering the tiny displays.

            "Correct. They were trying to defeat the scourge of the Squids. Alas, they failed and abandoned the facility."

            "They did? You decoded that much text?"

            Teage laughed. "That and the fact that our French allies are still regularly making glowing calamari."

            "You think the Makers would have wiped out the Squids if they had the means?"

            "Mister Pascal, you work for the Navy do you not?"

            "As a civilian auditor."

            "Still..." Teage gave a pitying smile. "If some evil aliens completely ravaged Earth do you think the Navy would hesitate if they possessed a weapon capable of wiping said enemy out?"

            "I suppose the French and English are a the counter example."

            "Indeed, they lost a bare half dozen cities, but are eagerly embarking on a genocidal Jihad... or Crusade if you prefer." Teage sighed. "No the Makers failed. Fragmented, scattered to the waves, their revenge alludes them."

            "Didn't the Makers attack Mooring? Recently."

            "A bare wing of ancient primitive weapons." Teage waved his hand. "If a band of pirates with century old Kalashnikovs robbed you, would you declare war on Russia?"

            Pascal adjusted his glasses. "Needless to say it is the policy of the US government that there are several belligerent Maker factions."

            "War is regrettable," the professor said.

            Pascal cleared his throat. "I believe you've explored more of this facility?"

            "Oh yes, much of it is storage. Regretfully emptied, " Teage hastily added. "But we've been able to learn much about their methods from their notes and the equipment they left behind."

            "Excellent. What's all here?" Pascal stepped around the room, looking down each ramp.

            "Each leads to a different chamber."

            "Really?" Pascal had to keep from rolling his eyes.

            "Quite standard. In fact most of the place has yielded nothing new. We're logging it all of course. Expanding and refining human knowledge is the whole point of this mission."

            The auditor nodded.

            "There's the shrine to home. Beautiful mosaics in that room. Then there's the residential block with some small store rooms. As I said before nothing too interesting there." Looking down one of the ramps, Teage coughed.

            "The last two chambers are far larger and far more interesting: the dock and the laboratory."

            "Well, lead the way."

            Suddenly brightening, Teage nodded enthusiastically.

            Pascal followed Teage down one of the ramps. Over a short walk, the gentle slope took them went about five meters down. They passed several alcoves that had been cut into the curved wall, across the vaulted ceilings and down the other wall. There were holes and bits of stone in each of the niches that indicated something large and heavy had been placed there. Grooves that had been worked into the stone indicated that they were the fixtures for a kind of airlock. However, crossing those lines were shallower, more recent grooves.

            The two men stepped into a vast room. The scent of salt-hit their noses. Lights stabbed into the darkness. A horseshoe shaped stone walkway surrounded an Olympic sized pool of brackish water. Thick crystal fronted the edges of the walkway, protecting it from the water.

            A half a dozen graduate students worked about the room. Two sets of two were moving recording devices over the artifacts and marks. Their computers logging the location and placement of each object and glyph. The last two were clustered around a small box-shaped robot. Fins and thrusters were stuck to the frame, which held power cells, onboard recorders, and a pair of grappling arms. A wire basket was tied to the front of the robot, just under the "shoulders" of the remote arms.

             There were several gantries and piers that cantilevered over the pool. Teage stepped towards one of the piers. "The bluffs come right to the water here." The professor pointed to the far wall, where there was a pile of rubble and a semi-collapsed ceiling.

            "So this was their dock?" Pascal asked, unimpressed.

            "No, that's another room. Unfortunately, it's far more damaged than this room. One without such extensive door controls." Teage laughed. "Anyway here's my team."

            "From the university?"

            "It's good experience for them, and a bargain for you."

            "Yes." As they approached Pascal logged each of the student's faces and checked against his database. "Hey kids, what're looking for there?"

            Ryung Myoh blinked up at the two older, stockier men. "Professor?"

            "Don't mind him. Mr. Pascal's from the Navy."

            Alice Hastings looked up from a laptop plugged into the robot. "ONR?" Flexing her fingers, she narrowed her eyes at the balding man.

            "That's right," Pascal smiled. "Just doing a little check, seeing if there's any equipment you need. How's that working out?" he pointed to the robot.

            "We're just setting it up. Though I'm worried that the water might be too dark to see much in it."

            "We can get brighter underwater lights," Teage assured.

            "It's a good thing we got here before the Descended did." Ryung said.

            "Oh? This planet's clearly US territory."

            "So? They hate the Makers."

            "With reason," Pascal carefully said.

            "Yeah, but it's... this is ancient history," Ryung waved an arm, encompassing the facility.

            "And what do you think they'd do? Destroy this place? " Teage chuckled.

            "But professor, you said-"

            Teage held a hand up cutting off the young man. "You're wrong. I never said they were stupid. No, the Descended know how to deal with places like this, they carefully explore them and learn everything they can for their own benefit. Just like us."

            "So, what was this place?" Pascal noted the professor's fidgeting fingers. "A laboratory?"

            "Yes," Teage smiled. "That's exactly what it was."

            "Alas there's not much left." Alice glanced at Teage and raised an eyebrow.

            Teage shook his head.

            "You already checked the water?" Pascal asked.

            "We had the Navy do a quarantine sweep before we started working in. This place is as quiet as a tomb," Ryung said.

            "Poor choice of words," Alice joked while Teage frowned.

            "What are you looking for then?"

            "Equipment mostly. It looks like they have a restraining rig." Alice pointed to the large gantry that hung half submerged in the pool. The rig was a long metallic truss that had twin rows of articulated claws running down the length. It looked like it could lift a small ship or a very large animal. Despite the protective coating, the rig's long articulated arms were rusted at the joints and many segments were missing entirely.

            "They experimented on Squids here?" Pascal asked, his voice hushed. "That seems risky."

            "The pool's only fifty meters long. They could only hold a juvenile," Alice said.

            "Still, dangerous," Pascal said.

            "Oh extremely. We're trying to figure out how the Makers subdued the beasts," Teage shrugged. "Their technology is really far, far beyond our comprehension. The Descended have had centuries to study their artifacts and they've just scratched the surface."

            "They're learned quite a bit about sympathetic tech and their medical advances are revolutionizing things on earth."

            "Yes, exactly. Think of the secrets we can unlock. Secrets that eluded the Descended. "

            Absently nodding, Pascal looked around the chamber. "This place is pretty clean. Did you have to move much in the way of debris out of here?"

            Stepping back into the shadows formed by the uneven lighting, Teage adjusted his vest. "Well... there was a lot of work to get this place cleared."

            "Yes, we did." Interrupting, Ryung's voice was clear and decisive. "This was only an outpost, so the Makers did not have the resources to fully preserve everything."

            Teage nodded. "Yes, quite a lot of stuff had to be moved in and out. Those lifts the Navy gave us were most helpful."

            Pascal smiled blandly. "I'm glad you found the ONR's resources to be so helpful. Now what about the rest of the site?"

            Teage coughed. "Yes of course."

***************

            A bright eggshell white, the room was tiled on the walls, ceiling and floor. A double row of six padded industrial chairs squatted in the center of the room. Sleek rounded computers and plastic boxes sprouted from the chair frames.

            The chairs were connected to conduits and bundles of cables ran from the chairs and swirled in to the center of the ceiling and the far wall opposite the door. Lines of softly glowing lights ran along the conduits. And intricate patterns adorned the wall tiles. On the same wall was mounted a workstation with a far less grandiose chair.

            All but three of the chairs were occupied with men and women wearing grey flight suits. Hovering about the chairs was a pale woman in a crisp dress uniform. She carried a clipboard and went from chair to chair checking the displays and fittings.

            "Come on Doc, they're not going to make it." Captain Rawlings asked as he adjusted his straps. He had redish pink eyes, short black hair, and grey skin.  Small black lines and serial numbers dotted his arms, neck and were almost visible beneath his short hair.

            "Why? Is the Commander chewing out Higgs and Misako or something?" Franklin asked. In addition to having the same eyes, Franklin's skin was the same pale gray as Rawling's. However, his face was a bit more Asiatic, a bit less pinched and slightly taller with wider shoulders.  At a full crew-cut his hair was even shorter giving a clear hint at the modifications below.

            "That's right, Jim." A short woman with red hair and blue eyes deadpanned. Despite Morgan's size and her almost delicate features, she was still fit. Though she was  nowhere near as muscular as the male pilots or even the other female pilot. "Higgs and Takamori got into some crazy shenanigans and they're being chewed out by the mean old commander."

            "Graeme  you know better than to encourage the clones," Major Paul Faltings said with mock gravity.  Unlike the other pilots, his head was completely shaved, revealing a gleaming off-brown skull.   Thus the grey subdermals atop his skull were clearer showing a spider web that went from his temples to behind his ears and then down his neck.

            "Yes, Sir," Morgan said.

            Rawlings laughed.

            "We have five more minutes by my itinerary," Lieutenant Shelia Ford, the dubbing technician said. The statuesque woman said as she stepped over the conduits that ran along the floor with practiced ease. Her hair was cut shoulder-length and was a dark purple almost black. "And it will take more than a bit of tardiness to skip the daily dubbing."

            "How'd you get this job anyway Doc?"

            The lieutenant raised a thin eyebrow. "I'm a skilled technician, this is where they sent me."

            "Yeah but, don't most of your kind end up in recon?" Rawlings pressed.

            "Now Captain, this hardly appropriate." Shelia nervously tapped her clipboard.

            "This a way for you to help us?" Rawlings asked. "It's not like there's room for you or one of your sisters; the Fifty-Six is a one seater."

            "And they fly a bit too fast to follow." Shelia smiled, showing her teeth.

            "I don't see why you guys are so worried," Jim Franklin laughed. "It's not so bad."

            "Says you, were bland before all this," Morgan replied. "And what happened to you isn't the same."      

            "Can we please pick another topic, Sirs?"

            "You're the one that's holding off this procedure."

            "No, that would be them." Shelia stepped back as two pilots entered the room.

            Takamori and Higgs entered. With wavy brown hair and matching eyes, Takamori was taller than Morgan but still far shorter than Higgs. Both had mud on their boots which was tracked into the room.

            "Sir, Ma'am, if you'll please," Ford said, an edge in her voice.

            "Sorry, got caught outside the Commander wanted to have a meeting with me. I think he's planning to show me off," Higgs mumbled as he strapped into the chair.

            "Hah, so you did get in trouble!" Rawlings said. "Is this about all those news-sites you read on Company time? Or maybe it's about the recon bird you lost?"

            "If he was showing off then how come I wasn't there too," Morgan asked.

            "Well, Will's new at this, it was his first time," Rawlings said.

            "No that wasn't it ," Higgs coughed. "It was a bit of quick show off."

            "Glad he didn't snag me too," Jim muttered.

            "Lucky," Morgan said.

            "Well... no, I've got another meeting after this," Higgs coughed.

            "Hah!" Rawlings wriggled his fingers. "This because you got your girlfriend killed?"

            "No that's not it," Higgs said.

            Misako glared and leaned back as Ford fussed with her fittings and set the connectors behind her ears. "I didn't volunteer to be someone's pet project."

            "Oh, but you did, we all did," Rawlings laughed.

            "Everyone good?" Ford asked. She counted to make sure they all held a thumbs up. "Close your eyes now."

            Ford checked Higgs' seat. Giving a satisfied glance at her watch she went from chair to chair and gave a final check. Even the unoccupied one. Sitting at the plain chair before her workstation she looked back and made sure all the pilots were harnessed, fitted out, and had their eyes closed.

            She went through the screens and confirmed the dubbing log. "Okay. Final test. Anyone not ready?" She stopped and checked for another round of thumbs up. "Good, ready in three, two, one."

            The pilots felt the familiar jolt behind his ears, then a gentle numbing that precluded the momentary blackout as their consciousness skipped out.