Encounter One: Static

By C. R. Swainward

"Encounter One - Static" launches a science fiction trilogy. The characters whose adventures we follow are a small band of research scientists led by the young Dr. Steven Barrett. The team find themselves pitted, with seemingly impossible odds, against superior beings, when after the race known as the Syzzacks arrive on Earth. But how will the planet and humanity survive? How will they change? What will become of mankind and the aliens—and, in fact, the entire universe? Throughout the course of this novel, the events take the reader from life on Earth to remote and mysterious realms of intergalactic space, to wondrous worlds beyond imagining, and back again. It envisions the universe as physical as well as infinitely otherworldly. So, now that you know the Syzzacks have come, can we save ourselves from annihilation? Should we even consider sparing Earth’s intruders if it will save lives? And, what will the decision of one man, Steven Barrett, accomplish to make it all happen?
The answers lie here in "Static."

• Language: English
• Publisher: C. R. Swainward
• Release date: Nov 23, 2013
• ISBN: 9780979164125

C. R. Swainward

Apart from writing, C. R. Swainward is a visual artist who, even as a child first discovering books and the wonders of deep-Space photography, was as fascinated by storytelling as by the universe itself. The author’s Encounter series, first installment of STATIC, with its ever-expanding vision of the cosmos and its transcendental views of existence, came to mind one evening while the author was star-gazing and considering both the mysteries of the universe and the meaning and purpose of human life. Swainward holds a bachelor’s degree in theology and religious studies, has taught painting and music theory in the West Indies, and now in addition to writing, works as a professional healthcare provider in post-operative surgery.

Book preview

STATIC

By

C. R. Swainward

ABOUT THIS BOOK

Encounter One launches a science fiction trilogy. The characters whose adventures we follow are a small band of research scientists led by the young Dr. Steven Barrett. The team find themselves pitted, with seemingly impossible odds, against superior beings, when after the race known as the Syzzacks arrive on Earth. But how will the planet and humanity survive? How will they change? What will become of mankind and the aliens—and, in fact, the entire universe? Throughout the course of this novel, the events take the reader from life on Earth to remote and mysterious realms of intergalactic space, to wondrous worlds beyond imagining, and back again. It envisions the universe as physical as well as infinitely otherworldly. So, now that you know the Syzzacks have come, can we save ourselves from annihilation? Should we even consider sparing Earth’s intruders if it will save lives? And, what will the decision of one man, Steven Barrett, accomplish to make it all happen?

The answers lie here in STATIC.

ENDORSEMENTS

Brad Munson, author of the NY Times bestseller Inside Men in Black II, says: "Filled with passion, power, big ideas, and a joyful spirituality, Swainward’s first novel is a pleasant surprise, offering hope for fans of the often all-too-predictable ‘alien invasion’ tale. Encounter One - STATIC is anything but predictable, and a fast, exciting read."

Science fiction writer Bruce McAllister, author of Dream Baby and a multiple Hugo and Nebula nominee, provides this endorsement: C. R. Swainward, I’m happy to report, writes in the great tradition of science fiction cosmologists like Olaf Stapledon and Arthur C. Clarke. The first novel is exciting and thought-provoking.

Chan’nel Jamilah, artist and founder of Wintergnome Productions, says: C. R. Swainward has created a universe that is rich and enthralling. I was wowed by the story and fascinated with each turn of event. Here is a science fiction thriller that reaches beyond our imagination in a pulse-pounding adventure that lets us identify fully with its main characters. Two thumbs up!

Wathera Cuamatzi, Entrepreneur, and New Agent Mentor for Insurance, writes: "Until now, science fiction has never been my choice of thrillers but, Static is an intriguing tale and a thought provoking achievement. The story is a quick paced exhilarating adventure that shows the fortitude of friendship and a compassion for all life."

COPYRIGHT AND CREDITS

Published by Wintergnome Publishing, 2013

A division of Wintergnome Productions

Grand Terrace, California 92313

Copyright September 10, 2013

ISBN-13 978-0-9791641-2-5

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013953763

Encounter One - STATIC is based on the earlier, shorter version entitled Zyzzack Breakthrough – The Beginning, published 2007 by ZYZ Alien Publishing in Redlands, CA.

All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced for resale in any means or form without the written permission of the publisher or author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to persons, living or dead, or events, are entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover Design By

Chan’nel Jamilah, Wintergnome Productions

Wintergnome Publishing

Grand Terrace, California

http://www.WintergnomePublishing.com

Dedication

This book is dedicated to my loving daughters and closest friends. You have both given my life deep meaning… and I thank you for your inspiration, encouragement, help and patience with the many drafts of this book.

Contents

Title Page

About this Book

Endorsements

Copyright and Credits

Dedication

Preview

Chapter ONE

Chapter TWO

Chapter THREE

Chapter FOUR

Chapter FIVE

Chapter SIX

Chapter SEVEN

Chapter EIGHT

Chapter NINE

Chapter TEN

Chapter ELEVEN

Chapter TWELVE

Chapter THIRTEEN

Chapter FOURTEEN

Chapter FIFTEEN

Chapter SIXTEEN

Chapter SEVENTEEN

Chapter EIGHTEEN

Chapter NINETEEN

Chapter TWENTY

Chapter TWENTY-ONE

Chapter TWENTY-TWO

Chapter TWENTY-THREE

Chapter TWENTY-FOUR

Chapter TWENTY-FIVE

Chapter TWENTY-SIX

Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN

Chapter TWENTY-EIGHT

Chapter TWENTY-NINE

Chapter THIRTY

Chapter THIRTY-ONE

Chapter THIRTY-TWO

Chapter THIRTY-THREE

Chapter THIRTY-FOUR

Chapter THIRTY-FIVE

Chapter THIRTY-SIX

Chapter THIRTY-SEVEN

Chapter THIRTY-EIGHT

Chapter THIRTY-NINE

Chapter FORTY

Chapter FORTY-ONE

Chapter FORTY-TWO

Chapter FORTY-THREE

Chapter FORTY-FOUR

Chapter FORTY-FIVE

Chapter FORTY-SIX

Chapter FORTY-SEVEN

Chapter FORTY-EIGHT

Chapter FORTY-NINE

Chapter FIFTY

Chapter FIFTY-ONE

Chapter FIFTY-TWO

About the Author

Preview

Tampa, Florida experienced another beautiful day. The sky had been cloudless since early afternoon, and so blue it looked polished. Now the first scatterings of stars emerged following the setting sun when lights appeared over the city, brighter than the morning star.

Everyone outdoors stopped to look up. Baffled, they pointed in astonishment and speculated about what they were seeing. Some marveled while others worried. Many ran for cover.

Five massive orbs of light settled high in the sky. As cars crashed, and cameras pointed upwards, four of the five orbs drew close together. They distended then melted into a single mass forming an intensely bright, diamond-shaped funnel. The tip of the funnel turned to point at the center of Tampa.

The fifth and final orb rose and moved to the back of the disc to its broader end. As this last orb touched the incandescing surface, brilliant colors shot from the edges, dancing in all directions, touching all areas of the sky. The colors formed a solid rainbow sheet, far brighter than the aurora borealis.

Citizens crowded outside to see the brilliant diamond in the sky, among them, the news media that began to broadcast the extraordinary spectacle.

After a while the colors grew brighter. The diamond-shaped funnel descended closer. It began to flicker at first, then to spin. As it picked up speed, static filled the air with a harsh, rippling gale. Shortly, the colors sucked back into the formation.

Then, without warning, a violet beam burst down. It struck the heart of Tampa with a force greater than a nuclear blast. A swollen shockwave of clear blue-violet light spread instantly. It burst at the edges with an inferno of white fire, too fast for the eye to see, and with a force great enough to erase all sound.

Passengers aboard three airliners, distant enough to be out of harm’s way, witnessed the diamond’s outpouring of violet flames, and the horrific destruction of life. What they saw, none could describe but no one would ever forget.

At 7:01:35, Tampa had been a city of 350,000 souls who lived and loved and grew on the breathing surface of Earth’s Floridian swampland. At 7:05:35, there lay only a black disc of ash, flat and perfectly circular, steaming in the humid twilight. Not a twig remained, nor a stone, nor a single charred skeleton.

Tampa was gone.

The touch of structured thought from Ayeriss was like a trickle of cool, pure water on Geller’s burning brow. He could see her in his mind. She looked concerned and aggrieved. A sparkling brilliance trailed behind her as she paced within her chamber. Geller felt compelled to comfort her somehow.

As you can see, Most High, progress has been made. The conduit is nearly complete. Energy will flow from Earth to Rahma within another rotation of this planet. No longer than that.

Though his sovereign acknowledged his words, he received no more than the mental equivalence of a sigh. He stayed quiet, waiting.

Finally, she spoke. I fear it is already too late for some. Spirits are dying. And Lluminar has not yet returned. He is so distant from us that He cannot hear our cries. I fear He does not know what has happened.

Such a theory was beyond Geller’s comprehension. How can this be? Why would God abandon us?

He did not, she rebuked. Long before He began His sojourn, He endowed Rahma with all the energy it would ever need—energy to last an eternity. But something is draining energy from us.

Regardless, Geller couldn’t grasp God’s lack of reliability. But to be so far away, to have failed and to not know He has failed, Geller said. He could feel the connection between them grow sharp and hot. He had gone too far.

You speak heresy, she declared. I will not allow it.

He retreated, pouring only thoughts of obedience and hope through their connection. Forgive me, Most High.

Lluminar has come to us so many times before. In ancient times, whenever we beckoned, He came to us, saved us.

Geller felt bewildered. But those are simply legends, Most High—to me and all those of my eons. We long for the direct presence of Him.

Do you think I have not tried to find Him? I have traveled far, Chief Controller. I have traveled as far as the Kingdom of the Fourth Gate before I was turned back by the Sentinels.

He was shocked. He had never known anyone to rise so high in the structure. Why did they turn you away? What did they tell you?

They said that Lluminar was not there, that Lordtran now holds the key.

Then where is your brother, Most High? He could sense discouragement in her every thought.

I do not know, and Vā would not say, nor those above him. So until that moment when Lordtran steps forward or Lluminar returns, we must look only to ourselves for salvation, Chief Controller. We must look only to you.

Geller did not know how to reply. He wanted to tell her how troubled he’d become, how he believed that humanity might be a new ally for them—a friend.

But not now, not when she showed such distress. Not when hopelessness for their survival posed as a sharp and cutting blade so near at hand.

May His Spirit be my strength, Geller said, reciting one of the oldest prayers in existence, and one of the first he had ever learned. May He cause me not to falter. May I do what must be done.

Gratitude and trust flowed from Ayeriss like healing light then the lattice of structured thought dissolved. Geller stood alone in his private office more confused and concerned than ever.

Do what must be done, he said aloud.

If only he knew what that was.

***

Chapter ONE

Sitting hunched over and alone in the air-filtered clean-room, Steve bleakly glanced about the workstation. I need to get out of here and get some fresh air, he thought. He’d recently formulated the newest space capsule’s nano-material but remained unenthused. Although the tests he’d performed on its durability, temperature range, and resistance to the Earth’s gravitational pull had gone well for the umpteenth time, for him that wasn’t good enough. It had to be perfect for the upcoming space mission.

Abruptly, he pushed away from the lathe and thought of his father. Man, I wish you were here. Carl Barrett, a mere drugstore clerk, was always enthused with any of Steve’s scientific breakthroughs. Though, this was not what Steve missed. His father had made him feel special, made him believe that he had a predestined calling for developing new technologies, certain to move mankind forward. Today would have been his father’s fifty-eighth birthday.

He felt it strange that both his older brother and his father had died in the same month, nearly on the same day, though years apart.

Right now, he needed to get out of this room filled with gadgets and tools, get some fresh air, and shake off this melancholy. Although lunch time had come and gone, he wasn’t hungry, just in need of some space to think. It wasn’t so much the thoughts of his father haunting him, but the dream he’d had this morning. If that’s what you could call it. Why was he letting it bothered him, anyway? It was not really a nightmare, but a memory. More like a vision, or a surreal experience. Whatever, it kept him off balance.

He exited the chamber, stripped out of his jumpsuit, and then left the area, stepping outside onto the upper deck of the Tower at Spectra Research Laboratories. The campus was perched high in the lush green foothills of Yucaipa, California. Below, three radio telescope dishes and two disc-shaped satellite uplinks sat adjacent to Spectra’s airport. The airfield stretched long and wide, enough room to house military cargo aircraft. Against the horizon, Steve eyed the brown and green mountains of the high desert. Closer in, lay the quiet towns of Redlands and Loma Linda.

A breeze drifted in cool streams under the warm, early summer sun. The sky was a clean, uninterrupted blue. Still, the magnificent view did little to shift his spirit. Why the funky mood? And why couldn’t he shake it?

He had the feeling that something unusual was happening. But what?

Since morning when the dream awakened him, its imprint lingered. He recalled a static-filled voice in his ear, sounding so real, perhaps triggering an old memory that refused to surface. It pulled at him, making him feel exposed.

Coming outside helped free his uneasiness. The cloudless, Southern California sky seemed to absorb him. As Steve relished the warm sun and the light against his face, a strange longing, almost a tug, drew him upward. Grabbing the rail, he anchored himself against the strange stillness that surrounded him. In the land below, nothing seemed to move. The horizon held steady. High above, he saw nothing and had no reason to expect anything really, but then—what the heck? He spotted a flash of white, a point of light bobbing as if dancing excitedly.

The darting about was dissimilar to the linear path of any aircraft. Weird… Weirder still, he felt he had a mental link to it. That was illogical. He saw no signs of any object, just light. As he watched, the light slowed. Steadily, it grew larger, perhaps descending. Apart from that observation he had no way to explain what it might be doing.

At twenty-four, Steve was already an accomplished thermonuclear astrophysicist and material engineer. He functioned as the lead scientist of a covert government project at Spectra. He quickly ran through a mental checklist, knowing neither light nor any object they’d yet been able to simulate behaved in such a manner. With no way to determine distance by looking with the naked eye, he figured this light must be emanating from somewhere outside the Earth’s atmosphere. At least, that was his best deduction.

Brilliant, multicolored streams shot from the bright core. Stunned, he stared unblinking, as the colors changed hues. Straight beams fused. The light pulled in all sorts of directions. Its white core caromed back and forth. Though fascinated, he was also disturbed. How could this be real? With his feet perched on the bottom rail, anchoring with one hand, he snatched his cell phone from his back pocket. Not wanting to take his eyes off of it, yet needing to know, he searched the Web for any mention of a peculiar light in the sky.

Nothing.

Perhaps it was too soon to verify. That was also strange. Nowadays, with bloggers and all the Internet sources, reports of this nature would be instantaneous. But he’d give it a little while then check again.

As he returned his full attention to the anomaly, the glowing colors spiked outward. He saw no end as they appeared to stretch deep into space. For an instant, the world around him seemed to freeze, motionless and haunting. Then the reaching arms of colors recoiled, leaving the white glow to float peacefully, alone.

What are you?

There it came again, that same relentless pull, tugging at a memory, lost somewhere deep within his mind. The more he stared at the light, the more absorbed he became, until all he could see was its blaze drawing him out into…

Steve?

The voice seemed so far away.

Steve! Man. What the hell?

He was back, and a bit dazed. He must have zoned out for a moment. Whatever caused his absorption was now gone. Granted, the light was still there, shining bright as ever.

Why are you climbing the rails? You look like you’re about jump into outer space like Superman or something. What’s up? Lynel Johnson, a colleague and friend, stood a few feet back, looking perplexed and a little scared.

What? Steve hadn’t realized he’d climbed the rails. More importantly, why was there a question? He hopped down and pointed to the sky. That’s what’s up. What do you make of it?

Uh… Last time I checked, it was called a sky. Nice and blue, but I’ve seen it before.

That light, Lynel.

What light? Lynel stuffed the last of a ham and cheese sandwich into his mouth. What are you talking about? He munched, and glanced at the sky. There’s a powerfully hot sun up there. But it’s too bright for me to stare at. Lynel shook his head and continued to scan, including the area where the light hovered. He shot Steve an odd look, licking mayonnaise from his full lips and brushing at breadcrumbs dotting his closely-cropped goatee. You sure you’re all right? Hank said you were acting a bit distant this morning.

Got a lot on my mind, if that’s all right with you. Exasperated, Steve wanted to storm away and find help, but he stayed put, glancing upward. You’re telling me you can’t see that light dancing about? It looks significant. I’ve never seen anything similar.

Lynel’s gaze slid sideways. Me neither, including right now.

Once more, an array of impossible colors pierced the flat blue. Steve worried, could he be hallucinating? How could he see a light that Lynel could not?

You eat yet, Lynel asked.

No. Not hungry. He struggled to sound casual, idly finger-combing his dark hair, still gazing into the color-filled sky, his heart racing. Someone else needed to see this, needed to verify. He wondered how to handle the situation without panic. Wait a second. Time out. Could you get Lou out here?

You know, something could be happening with your nervous system. You’ve been exposed to…

No. It’s not that. I’m fine. I’ve been recently checked. He shielded his eyes, more from the glare of the sun than the shard of light as it dropped closer. From its descent, it looked to be heading his way, and quickly. That made no sense at all. It was difficult not to push the urgency, but he knew not to.

Lynel dusted crumbs from his pale blue shirt. His lean, muscular form shifted uncomfortably. Sorry, man. Whatever it is, it’s not there for me.

Steve’s eyes fell from the light to glare at Lynel. He had no clue what to do next. He didn’t dare go inside and lose sight of the thing. No matter what, he had to stay calm and keep a clear head. Please get Lou out here, would you? Maybe he’ll know what that thing is.

Lynel hesitated. You still see it?

Of course.

Okay, Lynel backed away a bit, appearing ill-at-ease. Look, maybe it’s a metallic weather balloon or a missile. You know George Air Force Base is right over in Victorville, not thirty miles away. And what about Los Alamitos Naval Airfield in Orange County? That’s not far from here, either. He shrugged.

Steve kept his voice as clam as possible. I’m as certain as I’m standing here that that’s no blasted balloon. And no missile, either. It was hard to keep from swearing.

Lynel surrendered. All right, I’ll see if Lou is free. He gave Steve another odd look and slipped through the sliding glass door, disappearing inside.

What if I am imagining this, Steve thought as the light grew smaller, seeming to move away from Earth. I’m not mental. I know what I see, and I see a light of some sort.

A few minutes later, Dr. Louis Palmer and a small group of Spectra’s other senior researchers stepped out onto the top deck. Lynel followed, still looking ill at ease. Joining Steve at the edge of the deck, they looked upward, searching the sky for some anomaly.

But they were too late.

The light had gone.

***

Chapter TWO

With hands shoved into his pockets, Steve stared into the flat blue. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the men—and one woman—standing beside him. All of whom were accomplished experts in the physical sciences, bona fide geniuses. What had Lynel told them? And what had he done? Calling them away from their work to look at—what?

Nothing.

The scientists asked brief, quiet questions. But when Steve didn’t answer or explain himself quickly enough they drifted away. One after another, they faded back into the complex. Most had the good manners not to show their impatience, but more than one sighed noticeably. He knew what they were thinking—the work has gotten to him. The young Dr. Steven Barrett had finally gone loony.

That was a scary thought. He couldn’t risk coming off as crazy, which would jeopardize his career, and his entire project at Spectra. Calling on his scientific training, he grappled to plan the next step, some way to help explain the light, to prove its existence. Theorem, theory, hypothesis—he’d seek out the source of the spectacle and demand a logical explanation. He owed that much to himself.

Soon, all but the dapper, frowning Dr. Louis Palmer, Director of Space Research at Spectra, and Steve’s boss, had disappeared. Palmer’s gray eyes settled on him, sharp as knives.

I have known many brilliant young men in my time, Steven, he said carefully, a trace of his South Carolina drawl still evident. Many of them encountered difficulties with coping, especially at turning points in their careers. He offered a slight smile. I understand you’re under a tremendous amount of pressure here, you and your whole team.

Steve didn’t know what to say. He looked into the sky again, hoping the light would reappear and somehow vindicate him.

I depend on you, you know, Palmer said quietly. He squeezed Steve’s shoulder then stepped back, clasping his hands behind his back, straightening his shoulders. It was the stance of a leader squaring off in front of his troops. "You’ve always been a man of good judgment, and you still are. Just remember how much we need that skill of yours to do our work here on this special project. After all, it’s your project. It began with you."

I know, Lou. It’s just that I saw something.

I don’t doubt it. I truly do not. I believe you did see something ‘troubling’ in the sky, Steven, something you cannot explain at the moment. I just want you to understand how important it is that you don’t overreact. That you stay focused. He paused. Now, can you describe it to me—its shape, color?

Steve felt the subject of his mental stability closed. Though, the director continued to probe.

Go ahead. Tell me what you saw.

Its shape? Trying to formulate a description caused a lump to catch in his throat. Every version he could think of sounded absurd, over-the-top. Uh—the light changed shapes, Lou. And it was—it could throw off any color it wanted. It was all colors, it… Gazing down, he massaged his forehead. This isn’t happening to me, he muttered. It’s just not happening.

Don’t worry, son, Palmer said. Think on it a while. I’m sure there is a logical explanation for what you saw. He gave an encouraging, fatherly smile. You always figure these things out. That’s what you do. But here’s the real question. Why is this so important to you? Why does it matter if anyone believes you? I believe you’ll handle this situation properly. He patted Steve on the back. Like it or not, you’re a smart man. A little on the painfully young side maybe but wise, nonetheless. You’ll figure it out.

Palmer nodded as though something had been agreed on. Then the Director slipped into the main building without another word.

Someone shuffled behind him. Steve turned to see Lynel meandering between patio tables, trying to look casual as he studied positions of chess pieces abandoned from a game in progress. They swapped nervous glances. Lynel straightened and folded his arms. He had removed his necktie. The first few buttonholes of his shirt stood opened, exposing a white T-shirt in stark contrast to his dark brown skin. I believe you, too, you know, he mumbled, quickly looking down at his feet.

Steve nodded briefly. He didn’t believe his friend for a moment, and he wasn’t really interested in trying to persuade Lynel. All he really wanted was to be left alone to think.

We just need to figure out what it is you saw. As I said, one of the bases probably launched something. Or it was some kind of weather phenomenon. I mean, it’s not like you saw a UFO or anything, right? Right?

Steve glared at him. But it was.

What?

It was ‘unidentified.’ I have no idea what it was. And why is that so unacceptable? What if it can’t be identified or explained? What’s wrong with that?

Steve, come on. There is no scientific evidence at all—at least none that’s credible—which supports the notion of extraterrestrial spacecraft. I don’t believe in them, and neither do you. He grasped Steve’s shoulder and lightly shook him. Snap out of it. Come on, let’s get back to work.

Steve wanted to argue but what good would that do at this point? Instead, he nodded, his muscles were so tight the movement made his neck twinge. Okay. You’re probably right. Let’s just get back to work, and forget it.

Right. Lynel grinned, visibly relieved. Good deal.

Steve strode away, grateful for the first time that his office was far from Lynel’s, in a separate part of the complex. He knew he wasn’t losing his mind. What he’d seen was real.

He thought of their friendship as he took the long walk back. He and Lynel, who was six years older, had started working at Spectra on the same day over three years ago. In addition to its national security relationship with the U.S. Defense Department, Spectra functioned as one of NASA’s undisclosed plants. Steve had been involved with the NASA programs since the age of nine. He’d finished his university studies by the age of twenty. Now, most remarkably, he had been appointed Chief Material Manager over a small group of hand-picked specialists working for Spectra.

Together, Steve and Lynel were responsible for a top-secret research project tagged Phantom Theory. Its goal—the disclosed goal—was to develop a new metal, one so light it could essentially conquer gravity.

Lynel served as the Assistant Chief Aerospace Manager. His team worked primarily with Steve’s group, and he served as the conduit between various other researchers who attacked the challenge of gravity, so he and Steve spoke frequently. A huge amount of data traveled between Lynel, Steve, their teams, and other scientists located throughout the main buildings.

Regardless to the fact that Lynel was his friend, Steve knew he couldn’t afford to arouse his suspicion—or anyone else’s for that matter, especially when it came to his stability as a team leader. All he could do, at least for now, was to stick to Standard Operating Procedures—to act ‘normal,’ as difficult as that may be, even if it took all the discipline he had not to rush to the nearest computer to investigate the sighting.

Lab work occupied Steve’s afternoon, testing, calibrating, and retesting a synchrotron light source, an apparatus that studied the resistance to failure of various materials under tremendous stress. It was a key part of the process, and working with it required intense concentration. But as soon as the clock reached a quarter to four, the moment he knew he could leave without arousing suspicion, he signed out, seized by an urgency he could barely control.

Inside the glassed decontamination chamber, he peeled out of his radiation jumpsuit, and tossed it into the flash burner. Steve peered through the glass and caught Donald Boardman, a team member in his late thirties, watching him with an odd expression. Or, am I being paranoid?

Steve stepped out of the booth.

Oh, hey, boss, Donald said in his usual lilting voice. He looked to be masking humor.

Hey yourself, Steve mimicked. He knew Donald had heard rumors of some kind. Why else would he be acting so odd? Unbelievable how fast and hot the grapevine burned in this ‘top-secret’ facility.

You haven’t said two words while you’ve been in here today. Is there something wrong with the material? Donald asked, looking Steve over.

No, just checking for possible modifications. Seeing if it can be made lighter, bear more stress, that sort of thing. You heading out? Want me to wait for you?

Donald looked a bit horrified. Oh, no. I mean, no. Um…I’m waiting for someone.

Of course you are, Steve thought. Then enjoy your evening. He found it hard not to break into a run. He had things to do, contacts to make.

Steve left the test area through the Tunnel, a long, underground corridor that connected the Admin, Lab, and Tower buildings. Luckily, an unattended elevator awaited him in the Tower basement. The last thing he wanted right now was more meaningless conversations and odd looks from his colleagues.

His office was empty when he arrived. He checked, finding no evidence that anyone had been there while he’d been in the lab. He plopped down in his chair, punched the speaker button on the phone, and then logged onto the Internet.

Time for a few calls and a little research.

Nearly an hour later, Steve pushed back in his chair and cursed under his breath.

Dammit. Nothing. Not. One. Thing.

Local military bases had reported no missile launches or high-altitude test flights of any kind.

He’d called OSETI—Optical Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence—at UC Berkeley and talked to the head of operations. They hadn’t heard or seen a thing.

An online search of the local newspapers and the UFOnet web-ring and blogs looking for any mention of sightings in the Redlands area—or in all of Southern California—turned up nothing. Not a peep.

Lastly, he’d called Dr. Michael Richards, a longtime acquaintance who was the Senior Research Scientist and Director of NARCAP, the National Aviation Reporting Center for Aerial Phenomena, the granddaddy of private UFO organizations. If anybody knew about strange things in the sky, it was Mike.

Haven’t heard a thing, Mike said. He sounded very tired and very far away, though the facility was only a few hundred miles in distance.

I’m not sure it was a physical phenomenon at all, Steve told him. I didn’t see structures, exactly. Certainly no contrails or rocket flares. Would you be able to detect or record manifestations that were purely—I don’t know, spectral, lacking in matter?

He envisioned Mike’s frown over the phone. Like ghosts? Mike sounded as though he tried to make a joke out of it.

Possibly light occurrence. No mass, just photon streams. Or holograms, or—really, Mike, I have no idea.

Well, that’s the thing, Steven, neither do I. Mike sounded wearier than ever. If you get any more data, or if I get other reports, we’ll talk. Otherwise…

Steve knew the rest. Otherwise, don’t call until you have something concrete.

They hung up promising to stay in touch, but Steve left the conversation more discouraged than ever. It wasn’t disbelief that he’d heard in Mike Richards’ voice, but more hopelessness, meaning this happened all too often. As such, if Richards looked into it as he’d promised, they both knew he wouldn’t find much. He never did.

Not one soul, Steve said to the empty room. Not anywhere.

He found himself tapping the butt of his pencil on the desktop, waiting for the phone to ring, waiting for someone to explain what he had seen, or for a news report to call attention to it.

Settle down, he murmured. Settle down.

Why wasn’t he getting answers? Why had he been singled out to see this unnaturally behaving light? Maybe he was spending too much time concentrating on the Phantom project, or in the lab—or in this building,