[4/Jun/2021 UPDATED - A/N: I've moved the beginning of this scene to a new Chapter 1. So if you haven't met Colonel Walters before, go read Chapter 1 ∞ The Submerged first before continuing with this chapter.]

Day Five ∞ Tuesday morning

"IT'S ON ITS WAY UP, SIR!"

Almost everyone stood on deck, watching in anticipation as a surreal blue glow grew larger in the water.

"The floodlights are too bright," Colonel Walters said, eager to get the best possible view.

"Dim the floodlights." Captain Marchal gave the order to the man beside him.

"Dim the floodlights!"

Everyone not operating equipment stood at the railings of each vessel, watching in silent awe as a large bulbous shape began to solidify as it drew closer to the surface. Walters found his jaw slowly dropping the closer it came. Now he could see that the 'cocoon' was not just giving off a blue glow. There was a multitude of tropical blues, violets, magentas, and greens that flickered and grew brighter on its approach. He was officially awestruck as it broke the surface, water cascading, revealing itself. A curved glass-like surface displaying layer upon layer of interlacing colors that rippled and swirled and flickered in a multitude of overlapping patterns, sometimes brighter here, sometimes subdued there. This was a thing of indescribable, unworldly beauty.

The rattling winches fell silent when three feet of the translucent elongated dome was exposed to the air. No one said a word, all were mesmerized by the strange sight. As they watched, the patterns interplay slowed down, blurred, and merged into a single flow of colors, throbbing in slow motion. It was as if it were preparing for something.

Then it ejected a pulse.

A single airwave expanding outward with the force of a tsunami.

The wall of vibration hit Walters through his hands on the railing, like a wave rushing into the front of his body and face, and out through his back. The underwater floodlights died, along with all the lighting on the vessels and crane barges. Then the dam lights disappeared, followed by residential lights along the shoreline—one after the other, further and further away. For several long seconds, he assessed the situation as his eyes adjusted to the pale light from the late quarter moon.

The cocoon lay motionless in its cradle, the surrounding water unaffected by what just happened. The fantastic color-play had completely disappeared, leaving a gray surface that glistened like a pearl, faintly shifting in its former hues.

Confused voices sounded across the water from the contractor vessels, but none were in alarm.

Four of the scuba divers climbed onboard at the rear of the vessel, assisting each other with the removal of the heavy air tanks and headgear. The other two appeared on the smaller coastguard vessel. Walters wondered how the frequency blast had affected them; they seemed okay so far. Then he checked himself. He felt no major ill-effects from the pulse, just slightly winded. He turned toward Marchal who was also surveying the area but was interrupted.

"Captain Marchal!" a voice called from the wheelhouse. "All the instruments and the comms system gone crazy in here!"

Walters and Marchal rushed back to the control room, but before they could step inside, the lights flickered back on. Walters blinked a few times and glanced around at the instrument panel. Everything seemed back to normal. Barrett returned to his spot inside the door, mumbling into a handheld radio.

"Hinsley?" Marchal said.

"You just missed it, sir. There was major electrostatic interference spiking the comms system just before the blackout. When the power went, there was a loud screech for three seconds and all the control lights and meters went haywire, completely erratic. But as soon as power returned, it all ceased."

"Do you have a record of which frequencies were affected?" Walters wanted to know.

"Negative, sir. It knocked out our system before that could be established."

"Hm. What do you think just happened?"

"Sir?"

"What caused all this?"

"The object, sir. I believe it just sent out a signal. An omnidirectional, pulsed microwave beacon of sorts."

"And why would it do that; do you have a theory?"

"I'd say it just tried to contact its operator, and it cloaked it with some sort of EMP ripple. I'd say it's done what it needs to do. Now it waits."

Walters had been thinking along the same lines. "If that were so, then it could mean that there are no occupants onboard. Which would mean we have at least one alien on our soil." Walters turned his gaze to the CIA agent who gave him a minuscule nod. Then he looked out the window at the gray cocoon.

"Why is it here?" Marchal said and flicked the switch to the floodlights.

Walters shook his head. "Unless we find its operator, we'll probably never know." He gazed at the illuminated scene. He still couldn't get over the feeling of awe he had a few minutes ago. Then he turned to Marchal. "Do you have a radiation monitor?"

"Yes. We do have a portable unit in here, but I doubt we can rely on its readings at this point. However, Lowell's wearing a dosimeter for the diving operation."

They waited in silence for Hinsley to summon Lowell. When Lowell arrived, he was still wearing his wetsuit. Marchal waved him in. "What was your radiation exposure in all this?"

Lowell lifted the badge clipped to his chest and looked at it. "It reads normal, sir. No increased levels beyond earlier readings."

Walters looked at the badge and sighed in relief, glad that the operation didn't include another complication. "Okay. A flatbed trailer is waiting at Hardridge Creek landing. Let's get this thing to Maxwell's so people can return to their homes."

∞

Danny woke up with a start, momentarily confused as he found himself looking at a band of light cutting through the dark at the wrong angle: this wasn't his bed. Then a long labored breath above him reminded him that he was on the floor next to her bed. He sat up as she mumbled and drew another noisy breath. It was as if she couldn't get enough air, her torso arching stiffly for a moment, her head jerking to the side.

"Leaking..."

He quickly got on his knees to place a hand on her forehead.

"Escape pod... not supposed to...," her hands patted the air above her, "why—disintegrating?"

"Mickmi. Hey," he gently lowered her arms, "it's just a dream."

"Daniel?" She coughed several times, the back of her hand covering her mouth. Her eyes opened as she turned her head toward him, but she didn't seem to see him before they closed again. "They... move it," she mumbled. "They... move..." She trailed off, relaxing.

He rubbed her shoulder with his thumb for a while, wondering what she was dreaming about. Then he sat back on his haunches and was about to lie down again when the room suddenly became dark. He looked toward the window, tiredly thinking he should add another bulb to the shopping list. But as he looked across the bed he realized two things: the clock radio on the other bedside table had also gone dead.

And the front of Mickmi's neck was glowing, faintly illuminating the underside of her chin.

Her collar.

He stared at it as he slowly got on his knees again. This was not reflected light; it was a slow pulsation of dots alternating between the outlines of the circle and triangle.

He should tell her about this. But before he could wake her, she suddenly sat up, staring straight ahead, her head tilted slightly as if she was trying to hear something.

He got up and sat on the bed. "Mickmi. There's something happening with your collar."

She didn't seem to hear him. She drew a long breath and started moving her legs to the side. "It calls me... I must go."

"Wait." He held onto her hand, and she paused to look at it. In the next moment, the outside light switched on again, and the red digits of the clock radio started flashing. He squeezed her hand. "You shouldn't be going anywhere at night. Do you know where you'd be going?"

She raised her gaze to meet his, but she didn't seem to be quite with him.

"What's calling you?"

"My vessel," she breathed and lowered her gaze again. For a while, she remained seated as if she'd fallen asleep with her eyes open.

Danny exhaled slowly and squeezed her hand between his. "Go back to sleep."

To his relief she rolled back into the pillow, turning her head toward him. "It calls me..."

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," he said quietly.

She sighed and relaxed to sleep.

∞

Mickmi woke up to the early morning light. For a while she lay still, staring at the now-familiar sloping ceiling, methodically checking the sensations in her body. Yesterday she had not been quite there yet, but now she felt like at least her body had recovered fully from whatever her journey had put her through. Her memory, however, had not made further progress as far as she could tell, and sleep had not brought enlightening dreams.

Or had it? Aye, there was something vague about someone or something calling out to her. Through her dreams and through her collar. She was not sure who or what it was. Her hand went up to her neck, feeling the irregular surface. She realized her collar was a key to many things. But she could not remember how to access it. It felt like all those memories were hidden in the recesses of her mind, but her mind just kept throwing up walls to block her entry—and the harder she tried, the more painful it became. Trying to force access to any knowledge linked to her identity still remained a futile exercise.

She sighed in resignation, putting the thought aside. Then she found herself wondering at a strange sensation that had nothing to do with her earlier concern. An ineffable harmony and elation filled her from within. She closed her eyes to explore these new feelings but was interrupted by a quiet snore beside her.

She pushed herself up on her elbow and looked over the side of the bed. Daniel! Why lie you there? She shook her head and smiled wistfully as she gazed at his peaceful face. He was lying on his back in cotton shorts and plain T-shirt, with arms crossed, his head turned slightly toward her, a shadow of a stubble appearing on his strong chin. Ruffled brown hair, straight brows curved at the end. Curled lashes hiding the blue-gray eyes she had learned to trust.

He was what she was feeling. This young man had taught her several things already, but what he had taught her yesterday was beyond her imagination. The existence of these new emotions that filled her entire being had her in complete wonderment. Where did all these stirrings come from?

She stretched out her hand and held it a foot above his face. She could feel the breeze of his breath. She could also feel the connection through her hand. It was solid like an invisible tunnel of vibrating energy that connected her to him from deep within.

It felt right.

It can not be right. She was sure she was not meant to feel this way about any one. She did not know why. But whatever the reason, that was not her reality any longer. Her reality was here: in this world, in this room. It could be whatever she allowed it to be—whatever she made it to be. The thought was somewhat intimidating; she had not been prepared for any thing like this, that involved such strong emotions. It was more like... she had been prepared to live above any thing like this...

Her hand started to tremble and she pulled it back to her face without making contact, and she could feel the vibrating heat radiate from her hand to her cheek. You touched me. She looked at him again. Last night. She could feel remnants of that energy radiating off her cheek to her hand, and she folded her fingers around it as if it were a physical object, closing her eyes. Daniel.

She drew a deep breath with a smile, turned to the other side of the bed and got up. Then she picked up her exercise clothes and quietly left the room.

∞

When Danny came outside, he found Mickmi sitting on the porch step brushing her bare feet off, one foot against the other. He leaned on the railing, watching her. "Hey. You're up early."

She looked up and smiled. "Good morning."

He looked at the dog sitting next to her on the ground. "Zorro. Go fetch the paper."

The dog barked once and happily raced off toward the driveway exit. He followed it with his gaze for a moment, then looked back at her. "You look well rested. How do you feel?"

She tilted her head. "Wonderful."

"Aah. Care to enlighten me?"

She chuckled and rose, brushing her hands off, looked up at him and shook her head once. He watched as she came up the steps to sit on a chair. Then Zorro came back and sat in front of her—not him—with the newspaper roll in his mouth, tail wagging.

He shook his head amusedly, turning around. This dog. "That's our local paper; it comes out twice a week. You can read it later, I'm sure there'll be something of interest in there for you."

"Okay." She took it from the dog and put it on the bench beside her, then gave the dog an ear rub.

He studied her thoughtfully. There was so much he wanted to do for her—to do with her. "Do you remember what happened last night?"

She looked up at him and sat back, frowning slightly. "Aye."

"You said something was calling you."

"Aye."

"What was it?"

He watched as her gaze slid away in search of a memory, her brow furrowing.

"Stop. Don't do that." 

She looked back at him as he reached for the other chair, pulled it in front of her and sat down, his knees on either side of hers. 

"Don't go hunting for it." He took her hands in his, rubbing them. Then he bent them upwards so her fingers folded over his thumbs, and brought them to his lips. He touched her knuckles one by one, his gaze locked with hers. "What was calling you?"

"My vessel." Her eyes widened in surprise.

"That just came out, didn't it?" He straightened her fingers so he could access her palm.

"I did not... think." Her hand trembled slightly as he kissed her palm. "Every time I try to remember—"

"You get blocked."

"Aye," she breathed, her eyes glowing.

"So, this is the way to help you get your memory back. By you not thinking." He lowered their hands. "I saw your collar light up. Like it was activated or something."

"I felt it. But... I know not how to access it."

He shook his head. "That's okay; don't think about it. So... why did your vessel try to contact you last night?"

"It was disturbed."

"I heard you say they were moving it."

She nodded once, the furrow forming between her brows. 

"I wouldn't worry about it if I were you. I'm sure that when the time is right, everything will fall into place." He smiled encouragingly and kissed her palm again.

She tilted her head, gazing back at him. "How know you... what to do, what to say...?"

"You mean, how do I know how to make you feel better?" He chuckled at that. You don't realize... it's because it's you. "I don't. I just do what feels right at the time. But..."—he squeezed her hands and sighed—"now I've gotta get ready to go to work."

He pushed the chair back and as he rose, Zorro got up and started barking. He looked at the dog in surprise, then followed the direction of its attention.

"Someone comes," Mickmi said.

"Yeah," he said and frowned as he recognized the brown Maverick emerging through the trees. "What's he doing here?" he muttered and went down the steps, calling the dog with him. He went for the leash to tie Zorro, then met the car.

"I'm sorry to be barging in like this, uninvited," Phil got out of the car, "but I'm really concerned—"

"I thought you pretty much gave Mickmi a clean bill of health," Danny said.

"I'm still concerned about the anomaly in her bloodwork..."

"Isn't that why you took more blood last time?"

Danny studied the doctor. He looked like he'd just come from the night shift with his tired eyes. 

"Well, yes, but—I don't know how, but... somehow, that sample got contaminated. I would need a fresh one."

"Again? Okay, I'll get her." Danny turned to go to the porch but Mickmi was already approaching them with her eyes fixed on Phil.

"Good morning, doctor. May I see?"

"What are you talking about?" Danny said quietly, staring at her. The intensity of her expression made him turn back to the doctor, who was looking uncertain.

"Sorry?" Phil awkwardly fingered his breast pocket. "I don't think..."

"Please."

Phil's hand trembled as he pulled a folded sheet of paper out of his pocket and handed it to her.

"Thank you." She smiled briefly and turned her attention to unfolding it to reveal a black-and-white print.

"What's this?" Danny asked him.

"Ehrm..." The man looked decidedly embarrassed. "It's supposed to be a chromosome count but..."

"But what?"

"But... like I said... the blood sample must've been... tainted. I've no idea how."

Danny glanced at Mickmi, then looked at the paper in her hands. The little he remembered from the biology textbook in school, that image did look like a set of chromosomes.

"Why d'you say that?"

"Because those results are impossible. There's supposed to be one set of autosomes—pairs of chromosomes. Twenty-three is the normal count. That's twenty-two autosomes and one pair of sex chromosomes. But this yielded two sets. That's why I wanted to do it over with a fresh sample. To make sure my patient is fine." Phil seemed relieved to get it off his chest.

Mickmi looked up and handed Danny the print. "Count not the pairs," she said quietly, gazing at him for a moment. Then she turned back to Phil. "It is not necessary, doctor. I am fine... fully recovered, thank you. I appreciate your concern."

"Fully recovered," Phil echoed. "Yes, I'm glad to see that. No more tests are necessary." He rubbed his brow.

She tilted her head. "You look tired."

Phil closed his eyes for a moment and nodded. "Yes, and I have another shift tonight. I better catch some sleep. Danny?"

Danny looked up from his counting and nodded at the doctor.

"I'm sorry I disturbed you guys. You have a good day now." Phil got into his car, reversed so he could change directions, and drove off.

Danny remained standing in the middle of the driveway, counting chromosomes for the third time. Mickmi waited for him to finish.

Frowning, he drew a long breath and looked up. "This..." He waved the photo at her. "What does this mean?"

She shook her head once, gazing back at him. "How many extra?"

He looked at the photograph again. "This can't be coincidence, can it?" He met her gaze again. "Thirty-eight extra chromosomes?" She closed her eyes as he stretched his hand out to her face, sliding it up her cheek and under her bangs. Then he pushed the hair up and away from her forehead to reveal the tattoo.

"Is that what this means?" he whispered as she looked back up at him. She didn't answer.

— ∞ —

© 2016 by kemorgan65

Credits:
*Banner image the submerged vessel: Many thanks to Ken Morgan for conceptualizing the vessel and creating this amazing image!

*Tattoo: my doing.