Ch 2 P.4. Transport To Chattanooga

They had been routed to Chattanooga; damn his luck! The soldiers had plugged earsets into their helmets and continued their annoying soldier talk, Marle wedged tightly between them in the back seat. The pilot had a conversation going with Chattanooga Base while Marle sat in silent regret. His wrists throbbed, and the roar of the motor inside the copter would surely end in an unpleasant headache.

The sky outside was black and featureless; Marle nursed his private thoughts like a mixed drink. He tried to think through the chain of events that brought him back to Earth. Was it the green wave? He recalled the lab and his fall from the workbench. He had hit hard and the wind had been knocked from him, but he caught the experiment. He was sure he had cut himself on the broken glass, but he clearly remembered holding the sprout in his hand.

He remembered how the sprout felt in his palm with the soil on top of it. He looked and saw it in his palm, but then, it was gone. He remembered one other thing from the incident. As he fell, light from the green wave entered the shaft. Before the hiss of escaping air, before the tablet plugged the leak, green light flashed in his eyes. He had seen the green light, he had caught the sprout in his right hand, but then, he blacked out.

When he awoke, he was in a strange and smelly nightmare. An ugly old woman with bad teeth had tried to mount him. Armed men tried to capture him. Before his second blackout, he clearly remembered the long wooden staff in his hand. Was that the sprout? Had the green wave caused that? It was all very strange. Then, he was back on Earth in his native Longshore. From all indications, Marle had traveled back in time. Was the green wave responsible?

If Marle was convicted of his charges, UA and tracker blocking, he foresaw a time behind bars. Would he miss out on going to the observatory? Could that problem be resolved? He really wished to return to Hera. He had been so close; now this. He focused on his throbbing wrists and tried to move his hands, but the MP placed a hand on top and shook his head.

Marle held up his bound wrists and complained loudly. “Look,” he said. “They're turning blue.”

The MP produced scissors and freed Marle's hands. “Shake them out,” said the soldier.

“Why the wingsuit?” asked the MP.

Marle looked into the soldier's eyes and answered, “Limited options. I was looking for clothing and found this.” The MP nodded blankly and produced another zip tie. “Not again,” Marle complained.

The MP replied, “It's what we do.”

As the zip tie went on, Marle pleaded, “Not so tight this time.”

Something in the pilot's conversation with Chattanooga caught everyone's attention. Marle could hear the scratchy voice as it competed with the roar of the motor. The fact that the MPs sat forward, their attention on the pilot's conversation, caused Marle to sit forward and listen as well.

“Army Alpha Whiskey Zero Two One, Chattanooga Tower. Green aurora issued.”

“Direction?” asked the pilot.

“All points north. Moving south at fifty-five MPH. We have a shadow in advance. Going dark in thirty,” said the tower voice.

The pilot responded, “Switching to MERLIN. I have it in sight, Chattanooga Tower. Holding steady.”

“What is it?” asked Marle. He was familiar with MERLIN and BASH, but he had never been in a bird strike situation. As if his circumstances weren't bad enough. “What's going on?” he asked.

The pilot answered. “We have a potential bird strike scenario. I'm awaiting orders. We should land and switch off, but just in case, I suggest you ready yourselves.”

The MPs reached below the back seat for parachutes and donned them, cinching the straps tight.

“What about me?” asked Marle.