Genomorph

Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

As Susan had stated the facility was not at Area 51, rather it was west of there, located at the northern end of the Nevada Test Site. The Cessna landed at Nellis Air Force Base where they boarded a helicopter which took them the remaining ninety miles.

They landed at a helipad near a collection of small buildings and a hanger. Most of the buildings were run down and near collapse, and there were two rusted out trailers situated directly across from a relatively new looking structure. Susan took Brandon into this building where he was signed in and given a badge, then buzzed through the security check point. A short hallway led to an elevator, which they entered.

“The actual facility is a hundred feet underground,” Susan explained as the elevator began its descent.

“So what happens now?” Brandon asked her.

“We have a few days worth of tests to run on you,” Susan explained. “They’re all routine, to establish a record for comparison after the procedure is complete.”

The elevator reached the bottom and opened onto a long corridor. The interior looked much like a hospital and Brandon noted there were even colored lines to guide one to specific areas. As Susan led him through the corridors, they passed a few people and Brandon noticed that he got a few curious looks, making him feel more and more like a lab rat.

“Forgive the stares,” Susan apologized as they reached a secure door. “Everyone is excited about the test.”

Susan slid her badge through the reader next to the door and it unlocked with a click.

The room beyond was the size of a small hangar and was dominated by the machine. Brandon suppressed an urge to laugh when he saw it. He had been expecting something futuristic and instead saw something out of a bad B-movie. There were gleaming silver conduits everywhere, and along the far wall were five large cylinders filled with a glowing purple plasma. At the center of the machine was a raised metal platform. Around the perimeter of this were eight tall columns topped by large silver spheres. In the center of the platform was a clear cylindrical chamber topped by large violet crystal about three feet in diameter. Violet energy arced between the spheres on the columns and into the crystal atop the chamber. Inside the chamber was a shiny metallic table, like the exam table in any doctor’s office.

Susan led him to a small control room to one side of the chamber. Inside was a large console, which in contrast to the machine itself looked very advanced. The entire surface was a glossy black screen with glowing touch pads and screens with scrolling information and displays. A young man was busy at the console as they entered the room.

“Brandon this is our resident computer genius Ryan Sanders.”

Brandon shifted his cane to his left hand and shook hands with Ryan and then turned his attention to the console. He was surprised to see that it displayed information in English.

“I would have expected the controls to be in some alien language,” Brandon said as he studied the console.

“Well, they were when the machine was initially powered up,” Ryan explained. “Shortly after that it interfaced with our computers and in a few hours had translated itself. A good thing too; we would still be stumped if we had to try and translate it ourselves.”

“Lucky us,” Brandon said. “So how does this work?”

“The subject lies on the table in the chamber and the machine runs an initial scan,” Susan explained. “Once it has the scan data, we can enter the corrective procedure from the console. The entire process takes very little time, though we can’t be entirely sure as this will be our first major human trial.”

“When do we start?” Brandon asked. Now that he was here he was anxious to get on with it.

“Brandon you understand there are no guarantees here?” Susan asked. “We are confident that the machine has the capability to repair the damage you have suffered but we can’t be absolutely certain.”

“There are no guarantees with conventional treatments either,” Brandon responded. “And in fact there’s not much more they can do. Let’s just get this started.”

Over the next four days Brandon was poked, prodded and measured and then poked and prodded some more. They took blood and tissue samples and hooked him up to a variety of machines. There were CAT scans and MRIs and dozens of photographs taken. Some of the tests seemed to have no purpose he could ascertain at all, and he was reminded of a book he had read about the Mercury astronauts. They had endured torturous testing by doctors who found themselves with willing subjects and the freedom to subject them to whatever procedure they wanted to. He could hardly object considering what they were offering him.

During his free time, he read through several pages of material on the alien artifacts, and Susan answered his many questions regarding the machine.

They called the aliens The Forerunners, as information they had gleaned from studying the records stored in the databanks of the machine indicated that they were very much like mankind. It did not appear that they had actually brought intelligent life to Earth, but it was apparent that their genetic heritage had been mingled with man’s.

They had arrived on Earth around ten thousand years ago, a band of refugees fleeing their own planetary system, which had been ravaged by a long, bloody war. It was unclear also as to whether they had eventually died off or simply fully integrated themselves into human society. Whatever their fate had been, they had left behind caches of their technology, one of which had been found in the desert of Iraq shortly after the first Gulf conflict. The Iraqis had intended to spirit the artifacts away to Syria, which is why everything had been neatly packed for transport when Brandon and his SEALs had ‘liberated’ the artifacts.

As the day approached, Brandon felt a rising sense of excitement. Once the procedure was complete, and if it was successful, he would have to endure a week or so of additional testing, and then he would be free to resume his life. He was even told he could be returned to active duty if he so desired.

Whether he would choose that path he had not yet decided. For the moment, he tried not to get his hopes up. The life of disability and pain that he had thought lay before him might now be swept aside by a miracle. And if he could be restored to full health and mobility, the implications for accident victims and even those born with a disability, were staggering.

But as Susan told him numerous times, there were no guarantees. As he drifted off to sleep the night before the procedure, he knew he was willing to pay whatever price was necessary to be whole again.