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by vince
Rated: 18+ · Chapter · Sci-fi · #1660009
An entity materializes on earth as she attempts to alter the course of man's destiny.
Model is Author's Wife

Model. Author's wife when younger.

Chapter One Video    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wkfsD9oqNkk

March 04, 2011                         

    HER PARABLES MUST NO LONGER BE IGNORED.  Long before the quantitative factor known as time, a dormant mass had erupted. The violent expansion hurled the universe's soon to be born, star systems outward into the depths of space. An entity of endless omni-dimensional magnitude, interlaced with the expanding field of microwave energy.

    From within this endless creation, her influence transformed the elements into physical form at her discretion.  In this dynamic mass of gases and particle matter, a lone star with its captured satellites became her favorite sector of the cosmos. She had created the conditions for one small planet to support different forms of life. This balance and coexistence did not last. There became a point where the environmental climate began to deteriorate and clashes between the advanced species, had escalated to a destructive level. It became paramount she make direct contact. In the past she manifested into the individual bodies of the many different species, except those of the self reliant ones. The purpose had been her quest to enhance their adaptation to environmental changes.

    Her next visit would be different.  It required she enter a dimension occupied by the planet's intelligent beings. Her dilemma, was her inability to communicate. Her thoughts were instincts. She had become fond of one infant child. Her timeless spirit sensed a physiological superiority in the boy. It was his genetics. They were similar to an ancient species of a distant star system, unique among any other on the planet. Nurturing and protecting this child had become one of the few enjoyments in her long existence. It was her desire to help him develop into a strong adult; this was a prerequisite for the further fulfillment of her agenda.


Operation Dark Summit

    THE HELICOPTER ROCKED UNPREDICTABLY. Commanding the Navy SEAL covert mission, Lieutenant, Austin Z. Ahtera left his seat to peer out the rain-pounded side window. He noticed the two pilots struggling to keep on course and monitoring their instruments. This mountain region was known to create its own weather between the mountains without warning. Electrified by the raging storm, the forbidden landscape had an eerie glow.  Under the codename Operation Dark Summit, the mission took place during the cover of night to avoid visual detection

    The mission's target had been: 36.24583°N, 71.84389°E. Objectives: To gather information possibly missed during air reconnaissance attempts. They were to look for anything that could lead to the location and eventual capture of a militant terrorist leader's believed to be responsible for the planning and carrying out of terrorist attacks on the United States.
    Ahtera felt his heart race under his combat vest; the strange feeling that a higher authority was watching over them caused a chill to pass through him. This feeling quickly passed as he returned to the reality of the vibrating craft. He  grabbed the cabin structure and slowly returned to his seat. He observed that his men payed no attention to his movements about the cargo bay, they were consumed with their own individual concerns. Ahtera's lips tightened into a slight smile, for he knew for sure they would fall into line at the jump site, awaiting his every command. They were the Navy's best, they were his men, damn proud of every one of them 

    Gripping their swaying web seats, the four enlisted SEALs sat face to face in the small cargo bay,  without even so much as making eye contact, they were serious and so was their mission. The U.S. Army's special ops MH-47E Chinook, was chosen by the Navy for this interior mission. It was manned with a crew of four experienced men: two pilots, a crew chief and a load-master/flight mechanic.

    The chopper flew southwest from the troop pick-up point. The conditions that night had been the ultimate test for the heavy-lift twin-rotor craft. The unforeseen but anticipated possible weather upheaval forced the flight crew to navigate strictly by flight deck instruments.  As it pushed against the fifty-knot rain squalls, the roaring spray concealed the low-flying craft. The two turbines screamed each time they approached the engine's RPM red lines. The structure yawed, pitched and creaked against the deluge of rain.  Oil stains from the twin rotor transmission's gearboxes seeped through seams in the cabin ceiling.

    The Navy special operations force was trained to use the ship's 1 3/4 inch thick, fast-rope repelling system. Undetected, they had to descend to a location in the mountain region of Central Asia. The lightning made multiple ground contacts, which illuminated the mountain's rugged outline. These violent discharges temporarily blinded the flight crew as they monitored their vibrating instruments.

  The skipper struggled with the pulsing stick and peddles; his body tossed from side to side. The stench of jet turbine oil, combined with burnt fuel, formed a noxious haze that filled the cabin making the troops' eyes water–a condition that made the awaited egress jump-lights difficult to see. Timing was a key factor in this mission; one fast-rope descent equaled one chance for success or failure.

  Ahtera looked forward and noticed the pilot wrestling with the controls and relaying his concerns to his co-pilot by pointing repeatedly with a nervous finger to their dropping fuel gauge. With half their fuel used up and the possibility for engine and drive-train system failure, the pilot  called out to the team leader.

  "Lieutenant ... how are we doing back there? Rough enough? I'm getting a little jumpy being banged around like this. Also, the chopper is operating beyond its design limitations, anything in the drive train can let go. Are you sure about this jump? In a few minutes I'm turning back."

    "That's your decision skipper, you're in command of the craft. I understand you have been on over 100 similar missions, I hope you make 101 today. We're fine back here," Ahtera  shouted back. "This is the fun part of the mission. When, and if, we make it to the ground, that's when the mission gets serious. It's a good thing this ship has no fuselage mounted wings. I'm sure if we did, you would have ripped them off by now."

    Laughter erupted and filled the misty cabin as it shook and rumbled a few more times. It had been a welcomed tension breaker.

    Ahtera rubbed his gloved hands together to prepare them for the rope burn; his strong grip gave him confidence during missions. He checked and adjusted his gear; his mind pondered the worst weather he had seen during a mission.
    Joe Mitchell, hospital corpsman First Class, a six prior fast-rope mission professional, was assigned to be the first to descend. Followed by Louis Gonzalez, an electronics technician First Class. Experienced in equipment emergency field repair, radio transmission interference jamming and arming and disarming explosive devices. Ralph Hall, a skilled sonar Technician Second Class. Hall had been an experienced mountain climber in civilian life and had the expertise for situation they may encounter; third man down. Then, special ops experienced, Fritz Walker, the Navy Chief Special Warfare Operator. He had twelve successful fast-rope missions under his belt, including transporting injured comrades from rugged terrains. He would proceed lieutenant Ahtera, the last to deploy by his decision.

    The Chinook's fuselage rolled and dipped; the wind gusts and rain whipped through the cabin forcing hatches and seals beyond their secure limits.

    Directly opposite the Lieutenant sat Mitchell. The experienced corpsman sat still. His elbows rested on his knee pads, his bearded face soaked with perspiration. He limbered up his fingers in preparation for the slide down to the unknown, perhaps into some hell on earth. Seeing his commander's glance, he cracked a smile.

    "Hey guys, listen up," shouted the chief. "If something should happen to me, I have four pairs of dry socks in a Ziploc bag. Share them."

    All his teammates, including Ahtera, returned the same blank, 'I couldn't care less', expression.
"Gentlemen ...listen-up." the pilot called out.  "We're approaching our targeted coordinates. I'm tracking the mountain elevation, maintaining ninety-foot radio-altimeter. Please prepare for the egress amber ready and green go lights."   

    In the vast ocean depths surrounded by a multitude of sea life, upon her intention, her entity would materialize. She would manifest in the form of an individual species of her choice. In doing so, she would sense their unique needs, from their perspective. Her nurturing would often require manipulating their unique genetic makeup. This she would do, to help their bodies fight off seaborne illnesses; some of these conditions had been caused by the earth's pollution. This activity was rewarding, both for her and the species. It enhanced the chances of surviving in an environment that was slowly being poisoned, by the planets most gifted and intelligent inhabitants. On this one occasion, her unique intuitiveness sensed a precarious situation. The only human she remembered with great fondness, having genetically coded him since birth, was soon to need immediate help.                   

    The engines accelerated while the ship banked and the nose lifted. The increased thrust pressed the occupants into their various seating positions. The pilot adjusted elevation as they neared the high rural location, then tracked the rising terrain to maintain a strict ninety-foot radio-altimeter distance. When the crew chief extended the fast-rope anchor support, the rain and gusting winds pounding the low-flying aircraft, created a distinctive inward air-rush through the open door. Windshield wipers cut through thick layers of rain, still there was zero visibility. Water sloshed across the deck port to starboard; the Chinook swung like a pendulum over the mountainous terrain. The team remained in readiness for the amber-ready and green-jump lights.

    "Lieutenant, the pilot announced. We're over GPS target coordinates in two minutes. Radio-altimeter reading is preset for ninety-feet above terrain, fast-rope length is one-hundred feet, and is being extended. Thirty seconds from drop site—twenty seconds—ten seconds; the amber-ready light is coming on now, fast-rope is fully extended, sir! I'll do my best to hold the craft steady over the coordinates, maintaining radio-altimeter height of ninety-feet, sir."

    "Men, we're over the drop site," Ahtera shouted above the noise. "Get the lead out. Move. ... God be with us all. Skipper! Fine flying, you got us here; now get your crew home safely."

    "We'll try, sir.

    The green-jump light was set to illuminate when the altimeter height and coordinates were centered above their target area. The team leader was ready to follow Chief Fritz down the fast-rope. The craft yawed violently in the storm, twisting in both directions, the green-jump light blazed.

    The lieutenant took a deep breath and gave his men thumbs-up and okay nod. "Men," he shouted," you're as good as your best attempt to stay alive!" Ahtera declared.  A wind gust violently pushed against the craft, which caused the green light to flicker.

    The pilot called out. "Lieutenant, I am losing my coordinates over the site." The pilot struggled to make corrections, "the wind—it's—damn it. Go now, quickly! Egress! Egress! God be with us all." Ahtera, watched his men, one after the other, fearlessly grab the fast-rope then disappear, consumed by the wet blackness; their silhouettes illuminated by the strobe lights created by the storm. He quickly took his turn on the rope joining his men. Within twenty-five seconds the team slid down the one-hundred foot rope. Their repelling gloves smoked as they descended to the terrain's rocky and jagged surface.

    Ahtera reached the rope's end unexpectedly before he made ground contact. As he departed the rope, he dropped down the mountain slope in a several second free-fall. The landing would have been instantaneous death if tree branches had not interrupted the fall. He suffered a savaged beating from trees and rocks as he slid down the steep mountainside, ending precariously at the edge of a cliff.

    Something is wrong...the ground–where's the ground...my men? White light splashed across Ahtera's vision, blood gagged his breath. He braced himself for the pain; yet there was none. Only darkness followed.                   

    Deep below the Indian Ocean a distance from the deployment site, an eruptive activity had taken place. Something had ascended from a crevice in the sea floor and rose through the depths, finally to break the calm sea surface. As its large wings extended they created lift and accelerated the creature upward into the early morning sky. The streaking mass shed seawater in its silent climb, then banked and headed toward landmass.         

    Hours had passed and the rain had subsided, by the time Ahtera returned to consciousness. Upon opening his eyes, the sun's rays spread across the rocky terrain. He lay on a flat cutout section of the mountain. Still unable to move, he rolled his eyes to the left and to the right in search of his men.

    Where am I? Am I dead? Where are my men? 
    Continued in Chapter 2: "Nereid Chapter-Two *Word Count 1,997      My website:      {http://www.vincejarcuri.com}                             
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