From the Journal of Steven Keys- September 14, 2018
I’ve spent the last two days repeating my story over and over and over again to everyone in sight, and I think I may finally be done. That’d be a relief, as I am now immensely sick of the sound of my own voice.
Back up. Just realized I didn’t write yesterday. First day I’ve missed in a long time. Okay, so here’s how it played out: the pod escaped, the ship blew up, and I landed in the Pacific Ocean, just a mile or so offshore of an island south of the mainland. I’m told that the nearest major city is Kagoshima. Local fishermen saw my descent and alerted what I am guessing is the Japanese version of the Coast Guard and they came out to the pod ready to fight a big purple bastard or two. You can imagine their surprise when I popped out.
There some immediate misunderstandings, but with the addition of an interpreter- and hey, I am a linguistics specialist, after all- things got settled. Military personnel from Japan and the U.S. showed up to start checking out the pod and start asking me questions.
Lots of questions. Over and over. And over.
The most interesting thing was earlier today, when I sat in a small room and we watched the footage my camera shot while I was on the ship. We watched it once through, then watched again, that time slowing down and stopping at multiple spots. Sometimes the science guys would get excited and start pointing things out. Other times, the military folks would stop it and start asking questions. Everyone asked more questions of me, of course. They wanted to know everything I could remember, and I wish to hell it was more than I do. I can think back on it and pick up smells and sounds, but most of the rest was a blur.
I was TERRIFIED every single moment I spent up there, and I think that was difficult for both the scientists and the military people to understand. I get it- the science guys have spent their entire lives dreaming of shit like alien spaceships. Soldiers are trained from the very beginning to be brave and swallow their fear.
College professors are trained to catch plagiarism, drink quality teas, and to avoid sleeping with their students. Not exactly Campbell’s “Hero’s Journey” kind of stuff.
From the Journal of Steven Keys- September 15, 2018
Holy shit. They dropped the other shoe on me today.
One, ours wasn’t the only mission that day. Two other groups went into orbit with the same plan, and neither was successful. All that tried are obviously considered dead. But those losses are small compared to their consequences. Flagstaff was now a pile of smoldering rubble. The Omegans had sent a fighter squadron down and wiped it out- it was easy enough, I suppose, for the Omegans to figure out where we had boarded.
Ed had been right- everybody staying behind had been in just as much danger.
It took me a while to digest the news, honestly, because all I could think about was Nadine. I had buried her body there, but I hadn’t buried US. I still wake up every day and think about her first. I roll over and reach for her and she isn’t there, and it feels like a kick in the gut. And now her body was most likely gone. The area where we had been living immediately after the invasion was now a black scar on the planet’s hide. Our conquerors were very thorough in expressing their displeasure.
Yet, in a certain way, I feel as though a weight has been lifted from me. Had Nadine not taken her life, she would have been there during that attack and been killed. Had I stayed with her instead of volunteering for the mission, I would have died there, too. The fact is, though: I’m alive. Maybe with that video and maybe with the pod, our guys can start whipping up better defenses. Maybe they can come up with ideas on how to beat these sonsofbitches.
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