Chapter One

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COL(r) Samuel Pope, Ph.D. was sitting alone in his office at the industrial College of the Armed Forces late one evening when he died.

**FLASH**

A sudden brilliant burst of light washed out Pope's vision. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to block out the blinding illumination. He had no idea how long the light lasted. Over time it changed from bright white to a deep indigo. Eventually it blinked out and Pope tried to open his eyes.

What he saw shocked him. He was in a lab of some sort, with shattered screens and wrecked fixtures scattered about the space. Against one wall an unknown machine was enfolding some sort of indigo energy vortex. Tendrils of deep purple plasma were writhing out of the swirling maelstrom. One tendril ensnared a woman in a lab coat. As the energy touched her, she began to incandesce from within, quickly burning to a column of ash which collapsed to the floor. Another tendril consumed a portly man in a suit as he tried to wrench open the lab door.

Then Pope saw a pair of tendrils reaching for him. When they touched him he felt an all-consuming pain, a great sucking sensation, and then ... nothing.

Beep ... beep ... beep ...

Pope woke in an unfamiliar bed. His ears told him it was likely a hospital. He could hear the steady beeping of a monitor of some sort, along with the breathy whir of the air conditioning. In the distance he could make out the rolling of rubber wheels on tile floors and the soft-voiced conversation of the nurses at what he assumed was their station outside his room. The blood pressure cuff on his left arm began to constrict. This caused him to open his eyes, looking for the nurse or technician. There was no one in the room and a few seconds later the automated sphygmomanometer released its hold.

The room looked much like he expected, save that it was a single. Neither the VA nor Walter Reed usually allowed such a luxury for a mere retired colonel. He tried to look through the door, but it was hidden in a recess, concealed for his current poison. Also in the room was a chair, currently empty, and a window, currently obscured by a drawn curtain. The angle of the shadows and the color of the light in the window told him it was either morning or evening. He could just make out faint traffic sounds through the closed glass.

The smells of the hospital were stronger and sharper than he expected. He realized all the sensory inputs were abnormally detailed. This made him consider whether he was suffering from hallucinations, possibly as the result of a stroke. The flash and the pain he felt could both be the result of brain hemorrhages. And the bizarre events in that lab or whatever it was must be some sort of delusion.

I need more information, he decided and reached for the call button. His hand was wrapped in bandages, but he found he could move his arm without discomfort. A quick press of the button and he heard the voices outside his door get louder and faster. Someone's excited, he thought.

A moment later two women in scrubs came in to the room. One went immediately to the monitor and started typing on the built-in keyboard. The other, a young African American woman bent over him and started feeling his face. He noted that her name tag read Maya.

"How are you feeling?" Maya asked with a friendly smile. She had hazel eyes, Pope noted.

He tried to speak but his mouth was too dry. He gestured to his mouth and the nurse poured a cup half full of crushed ice from a plastic carafe on the table next to the bed. She used a spoon to bring some of the ice to his lips.

"Just let this melt in your mouth," she said.

After Pope slowly swallowed the water he was able to speak, but his voice sounded very odd to his ears. "Thanks ... I feel ... ok? What happened?"

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