Symbiote Chapter 1

The night sky rotated serenely as Xavier Thomas cruised down the I90W corridor well passed Hershey, Nebraska. The flat of the Great Plains seemed to go on forever, to every horizon. The sun had long since retired, and the temperature, which had been hot and muggy during the day, had become cold and moist in the darkness. Though Xavier had always preferred to be in small crowds, so there were less people to piss him off, this time, it was a bit different.

For the past six years, he had worked ‘off the books’ for the CIA internal affairs division, amongst others. The official title was ‘contract', but all that meant was that he fixed their problems that weren’t quite as legit as they should be. These adjustments had to be accomplished by the fewest amount of people, usually one, quickly, quietly, and with as little collateral damage or support as possible. This was a demanding position that required strength, agility, intelligence, and a bit of creative problem solving. Xavier was so good, and trusted, that he was even called in to go after rogue adjusters. Even though he sold his services to quite a few people.

They had first approached him while his sub was moored in Dubai. One of their shadow assets had went AWOL; he could do it, and then get away without harassment. How they knew his skill level was beyond him, but he agreed, it was something different, and interesting at least. The op was not without hiccups, but they kept him on board anyway.

A few weeks ago, yet another assignment had gone south, though this time it was not his fault, it was theirs. They would never admit to it though. Sometime secrets hurt the group keeping them. Assignments that required his level of skill and skill sets, which were extensive, were few and far between, so it was not that unusual to not hear from his handlers, but they could at least let him know just how pissed they were which–if the silence was any indication–was a lot.

Though he was a master of disguise, he still preferred his normal look: He was just shy of six feet, his dark hair had not been buzzed in a few weeks, and his clothes were a graphic tee and jeans. His other skills included in-depth knowledge of all martial arts, firearms, locksmithing, mechanical fabrication, pneumatics, hydraulics, etc.

“What was I supposed to think when they assigned that adjustment.” He sighed, once again going over the last mission in his head, “They have to give me all Intel they can. I need to know their true objectives, including the people they wanted safe, or I have to use my standard tactic–kill first, ask questions never. That’s why they hired me, and send me on those things.”

“Damn, what I wouldn’t give for a ninja death squad, or another Borne to make disappear.” He sighed to himself, reminiscent of past successful missions, “I wonder if the Spetsnaz is hiring…”

His work was so highly prized, that if he really wanted to go off reservation, many groups would take him. But, he did have some patriotism. He would never do any job that hurt the States, they all knew that.

The road stretched to the horizon on both ends. The flat grassland still filled his entire field of view save for the foothills that began to creep from the front. All around there was little to see, a few telephone poles, some cows, but no other cars–what else would you expect from the middle of the night in the middle if Nebraska.

His car was rather old, there was very little reason to upgrade as he was usually on missions. The paint had begun flaking, there were a few dings, but the frame was solid. Inside the seats were losing their plush, but it was clean. The radio on his dash was long since nonfunctional, he instead listened to CDs, and this one had just ended. Practiced hands pulled out his CD envelope from the passenger door, pulled out a new one, ejected the first and replaced it in the player, all without his eyes leaving the road. As Van Halen blared from the speakers he inhaled deeply, trying to let his cares slip away.

“I wonder what Bev and Byron are doing right now.” He sighed, “I really hate this loner thing. Then again, last time I helped her escape the Kremlin, that crazy bitch blew herself up, and almost took me with her. I want to know how the hell she survived.”

Suddenly, the sky was ripped apart by light brighter than the sun wished it could be. In a blink of an eye, the blue-white tare enveloped everything. With his blinking out of control, he struggled to regain his sight. So profuse were the pain and tears, he barely noticed the buffeting as the vehicle threatened to go off road. With tears streaming down his face, he finally got his sight back just in time to witness the approach of the shockwave which finished the job of throwing the car for a loop.

As the vehicle rolled end over end and side to side, Xavier cursed loudly in every language he knew, he could still not quite hear himself, though. Finally the car landed on its wheels well away from the road, and Xavier just stared out the windshield, panting deeply.

“That, was, fucking, awesome!” He finally decided after taking some time to catch his breath and collect his thoughts.

“I have to know what the hell that was.” He smiled to himself as he shifted into gear to off-road in the direction of the crater he knew was only a few miles away.

Juices flowing with the thrill of the hunt, his foot became lead. He barely noticed the buffeting as he zoomed toward the source of the flash. Under normal circumstances, he would call in any odd events to any one of the cadre of his handlers, this was an event for either the Skunks or H83W, but since it seemed no one wanted to talk to him, fuck’em.

The foothills began undulating to a higher degree as he approached the site of the final end of the light show. Just outside the event horizon of the crash site, it grew much too difficult to drive the rest of the way. So, he decided to park his vehicle and hike the rest of the way up the cliffs.

Foot hills were never neat, rocks and bushes always made movement a pain in the arse. There was, however, evidence to suggest that a violent upheaval had happened recently, which had disrupted the terrain to a point of insanity. Smoke and other noxious fumes drifted around him, obscuring distance into some kind of dreamscape, as he carefully made his way to the point he was certain held the source of the light show.

Even a small object falling from space could result in a crater many miles in diameter, so he did not expect any great find, he was just looking for the distraction, and maybe he could get some cool space rock, it would go great with the moonstone his uncle brought back from Apollo 18.

Eventually, he came upon a crash site the scene was almost beyond comprehension, “That ship is huge, something that big should have vitrified the state. That means it slowed on re-entry, that means, something is still working on that thing!”

The crater was elongated and smokey, the craft itself was half buried at the end. The ship was a long shaft with eight fins equidistant from each other in the tail section. He carefully climbed down the strangely cool edge of the bowl, and it was not long before he stood in awe a few meters away from the ship.

“That thing is as big as the spruce goose,” He marveled, “And it definitely ain't terrestrial.”

The implications of what this could be bounced around in his head as he made his way closer to the craft. He had always believed in extraterrestrials, but there just was no way to prove it. Except, now there was this craft.

The craft’s surface was perfectly smooth, and cloudy grey in appearance. Without analysis it was impossible to determine what is was made out of, but one thing was clear: it was not a material known to man. Despite the forces it must have endured, this ceramic-like substance was not cracked, was not warped, was not deformed in any way. While it was smooth as glass, there was no reflection of any kind, it was as matte as matte could be.

At first, there was no way to distinguish any features. The puzzle of how to get in tickled his consciousness as he painstakingly searched. Slowly the sky spun, as he carefully examined every square millimeter he could. The inevitable march of time was the only other thing that stirred as he mulled over the craft.

It took forever, but he finally managed to distinguish a seam. The barely perceptible line only hinted at a hatch. As he looked over this possible entrance, a hexagon divided into 24 equilateral triangles dissolved into existence, then began flashing red. He could find no source to the light which appeared to hover a centimeter above the surface, carefully he moved to touch it. The moment he brushed it, there was a hiss of equalizing air then the panel was blown off.

“Wholly crap!!” he put his heart back in his chest after barely avoiding the projectile, “So glad I haven’t eaten in 12 hours.”

After a moment to collect himself, he carefully, tentatively, hesitantly, entered the craft. The bulkheads were buckled, decks were damaged, and over heads were collapsed, the ship would never fly again.

The entrance was, as one would expect, in shambles. The walls, while constructed of some kind of ceramic that resisted chipping, were gouged, bent and deformed in ways he could not even begin to comprehend. A closer look at the walls revealed they had to be some kind of organo-metallic ceramic, with a crystalline structure inlayed in a complex pattern. This suggested that the walls could, in addition to being structure, be conduits for communication and/or power.

Within the walls, he found no wires or cables of any kind, instead there were tubes that looked like biological entrails. The substance inside was like was some kind of viscous ooy gooy substance that surprisingly had no smell, he was not willing to taste it. Most of the lights were broken and they leaked a similar goo. The few lights that were functioning emitted an organic light that was bright but not harsh.

After this quick study of the quarterdeck, making notes in a pad he always kept in his back pocket, he moved on toward the ship’s interior. As he walked, the halls seemed to go up and down, in random ways like he was alternately climbing hills, then going through valleys, except the hall was perfectly straight.

“Artificial gravity must be on the fritz.” He groaned as the floor turned into a sheer cliff.

At least, he found, the passages were arrayed in a nearly logical pattern, combat load out, decon stations, and storage for whatever a crew could need for planetary exploration. As large as the ship was there should be bodies littering the passages, in fact there was a distinct lack of bodies in any of the corridors.

“This is like a darker, more awesome, wonderland.” He smiled to himself, “It gets curiouser and curiouser. I wonder where the white rabbit is, or maybe he’s a black bunny.”

As he delved ever deeper into the dark land of wonder, the damage became less severe. It appeared the mass of the ship protected the more essential areas.

“What do we have here?” he asked himself as he happened on a body.

The cadaver was mangled, almost beyond recognition, but it was clearly not human, as he expected. It bore the appearance of an insect, a mantis even. It was brownish green, it had four arms that were long, thin, multi jointed, and no clear sign of opposable thumbs. It also had two legs and compound eyes.

“This just was not your day, was it, buddy.” He shook his head and stood up to leave.

Shadows danced across the walls as the lights continued to attempt to force the darkness away and the odd occasional spark. The corridors were in shambles, there was no easy path anywhere. Despite the size of the vessel, Xavier was unable to find any other sign of the crew.

“Where the hell is everybody else?” he asked himself entering a room at random, “There should be some kind of crew, unless that guy was a hitchhiker on a drone.”

Near the middle of the craft he entered a room that could be best described as a medical ward. All along the sides, beds or exam tables stood ready for patients or experiments. Tools of all kinds that could only be medics or scientific littered the space. Some was damaged and some was not. It was plain to see that the dynamic gravity was at play here too.

“So, this is where all the probing takes place.” He chuckled as he sorted through the mess.

He avoided the areas where the gravity would be problematic, and carefully looked for something useful. Many of the cabinets and drawers were open, some were jammed shut. One though, appeared locked.

“There has to be something cool here.” He told himself as he carefully worked out how to unlock it.

On the table behind him, a small clear box contained an ostrich sized egg. Due to the differential gravity, it was also above him. The ship moaned as something settled. Soon, he had success with the latch, and the egg cracked ominously. A clear discharge issued from the egg followed by a thick slug. As the ship lurched again, the slug fell on him.

“Crap, I can’t move.” He thought, “Oh no, something dropped on me. What? It’s burrowing into my brain!”

With the white hot pain of the slug digging into his skull, came strange visions. One was a battle, amazon warrior women fought each other; a giant ring was being constructed in space; and the dark of someone else’s death, or was it his own. It all happened at the same time, but it was still separate.