Anthony DeCosmo - Empire

Ashley trembled as she asked, “And…and my son?”

“You realize I can not draw any conclusions from the rushed tests we did today,” he covered himself. “I would need weeks…maybe months to truly develop a real understanding-”

“And my son, doctor?” Ashley insisted.

Maple heaved a deep breath.

“It appears to us that he is accessing and utilizing a higher percentage of his brain than we ever thought was possible. You have to understand, there are a large number of cells inside the brain that science has always assumed were there just as protection. Yet in Jorgie’s brain they appear to be active.”

Dr. Maple fidgeted as he grew excited.

“But what does that mean?” Trevor needed an answer.

“I don’t’ know,” Maple admitted. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Is he in danger? Is his health in danger?” Ashley panicked.

“I don’t think so, but I have no way of knowing. You have to understand,” Maple struggled to boil the complex data and observations into something he could translate to laymen.”Science has identified more than 300 types of neurotransmitters in the human brain.”

“Neurotransmitters?” Trevor repeated the word.

Trevor’s access to the genetic memories of humanity had not included much in the way of health sciences info. Instead, those memories focused on weapons systems, fighting techniques, marksmanship, and flying attack aircraft.

“Chemicals that transmit across synapses in the brain. Each of the known types is associated with different functions of the brain. For example, um, Acetylcholine transmits messages to the heart, other muscles, and sweat glands. Serotonin is associated with the process of learning and consciousness.”

“And..?” Trevor led.

“And we’ve found indications that your son has three, maybe four times as many types of neurotransmitters in his brain. With more tests we could confirm that, and maybe understand.”

“No more tests,” Ashley said.

Trevor did not argue. He still struggled to understand the meaning. He said, “He has more of these neurotransmitters than the average Joe?”

“A lot more types,” Maple put a fine point on it. “His brain is doing things we don’t understand. It has more functions…more uses…more ability…deeper consciousness-I do not know. We just don’t know.”

Ashley threw her hands into the air in frustration and repeated her question, “But doctor! What does it all mean?”

Dr. Maple’s voice rose a little but not to the point of disrespect. “I…don’t…know.”

Trevor’s eyes gazed off at some yet-to-be-revealed truth as he spoke.

“Someday…someday we’re going to find out.”

20. Battle at the Top of the World

A slab of rock protruded from the sea of white like an island in the middle of a frozen ocean, perhaps coughed up from beneath the surface as the result of an ancient earthquake or other disturbance.

Whatever the cause, this sanctuary from open ground covered a square mile with edges surprisingly defined, as if nature purposely grew a fortress to command the surrounding plain of snow and ice.

A lip of rock reaching as high as five feet tall at spots composed the outer ‘wall’ while boulders, mounds of dirt, snow and more rock walls created a sort of maze within.

This strange stretch of rock was not Jon Brewer’s final destination, merely an interesting sight on his journey across the glacier. However, it quickly became the most important piece of real estate on the planet. Jon and his expedition raced for that stretch of defensible territory because their lives-and perhaps the continued existence of mankind-depended on it.

“C’mon damn it! Hurry!”

Jon abandoned the SUSV command module for a fast-moving snow mobile, leading other snow mobile troops ahead of the main force as they marched in a northeasterly direction.

A half mile away, an alien army moved parallel to the human one. Like Jon’s force, the enemy traveled primarily on foot although several elephant-sized fur-covered lizard-things served as pack animals and the enemy also drove a couple of big, two-seat vehicles with three thick, huge wheels, making them resemble a grown up version of a tricycle.

As he led the race for the only defensive ground for miles, General Brewer experienced a feeling of deja vu. More specifically, the situation felt eerily similar to the Battle of Five Armies.

Four years ago, the small band of human survivors-a fledgling army-hurried to occupy the better fighting ground. Back then, the ground had been a series of mountains outside of town. This time an island of rock. In both cases, the enemy was the same.

Nicknamed the “Vikings,” no one knew their real name because none survived the battle four years ago, but Jon remembered their cunning, their bravery, and their tools of war.

As had been the case in the mountains, the Vikings’ ponchos changed color to blend with their surroundings, in this case pure white. Those ponchos covered the entire bipedal, humanoid beings from head to toe with the exception of thick goggles providing eye protection. This time the ponchos appeared more substantial, perhaps a hardier fabric or deeper layers to keep the cold at bay.

Despite having lost four men in two separate surface collapses during the journey, Jon’s force appeared to outnumber the Vikings by a dozen or so. Those collapses into air pockets and ice caves not only cost four soldiers, but also valuable time: nearly two whole days had elapsed since their arrival in Greenland. The race did not go well.

For the moment, he concerned himself with more immediate worries; the contest to capture that fortress of rock. While the armies managed long-range pot-shots at one another, both coveted that island for defensive purposes.

Jon’s snow mobile troops arrived first. The General and Captain Fink led two dozen men onto the ‘island’ from the southern end. They wove through the rock maze heading north, hoping to deny the enemy a foothold.

To Jon’s dismay, the aliens arrived in greater number. Armed with a type of magnetic rail gun, the Vikings cut down two of Jon’s men. Captain Casey Fink responded with a fragmentation grenade that shredded three bad guys and their white ponchos with a blast of shrapnel.

Unfortunately, the aliens brought more manpower to bear. They swarmed down from the north side over sharp stone outcroppings and between mounds of snow and dirt.

Brewer’s advance team grudgingly gave ground, retreating to the very tip of the ‘island’s‘ southern end. There they made a stand, but the Vikings kept coming with no regard for the losses they suffered. Certainly the alien general knew the value of that rock and accepted the price to be paid. With the island in alien hands, they could decimate the human army from the only cover around.

General Brewer resigned himself to retreat but before he issued the order, a voice from behind changed the equation.

“Let the battle cry be heard in the land, a shout of great destruction!” Reverend Johnny proclaimed as he led the main body of human soldiers onto the rocks and personally dispatched four enemies with his favorite weapon, an M240-B heavy machine gun.

The surgeon-turned-holy-man’s strike grew into a counter attack. This time the Vikings gave ground until their main force arrived. At that point, the battle stabilized with each side hiding behind walls of rock separated by a flat, open stretch at the center of the battlefield.

“Okay, okay,” Brewer sat behind a boulder and contemplated the situation as shots from both sides flew back and forth.

“Squads one, two, and three on this line,” Brewer referred to the natural divider separating his army from the no-man’s land between the belligerents.