The Meeting by Daniel C. Henderson and Michael Southard
The hills of western Maryland rolled on toward the horizon. Stars glinted above the tree line as Sergeant Mark Gordon reached the top of the hill. He used the sleeve of his Battle Dress Uniform to mop sweat from his forehead, and then noted the surroundings.
Private Joe Mack climbed up the hill and stopped behind Mark. A moment later, Ken Knight appeared as well.
They're still slow, Mark thought.
He dismissed it and ordered the men to drop their gear.
Joe said, "Thanks, Sarge."
Mark ignored that too and removed his own equipment. The halt was not exactly according to standard procedure but he knew his companions were exhausted.
Mark Gordon was not as tired because he was different from most people.
Sometimes that worked to his advantage but that was not always the case. Mark recalled several times in the first two years of service when he had pulled extra duty simply because his superiors knew he could do it.
"Ken, radio our position to HQ," he said. "I thought we were supposed to meet the rest of the squad on this ridge."
If anyone had miscalculated, including Mark, then he wanted to know. Even if he was not tired, he was hungry and missing chow was not an option.
Ken sat on his rear and tried to lean against a tree, as had Joe nearby. He had to twist around to untangle the radio first.
Mark shook his head in disbelief.
As Ken began to transmit, Joe stood up and stretched.
"Cougar, this is Crazy Fox," Ken said into the handset. "Come in . . . over."
"What the hell?" said Joe then. "Sarge, did you see that?"
Mark looked in the direction that Joe indicated and saw a bright flash of light over the next ridge.
"I see it now. Hey, Ken? You get through yet?"
"No, Sergeant," Ken replied. "I'm still trying."
"Forget it then. Pick up your gear, both of you. I want to know what that light was."
"Are you sure about that?" Joe argued. "Don't we need back up?"
Mark shook his head. If he were correct about the light in the valley, no amount of support would matter.
"No, let's just go . . . but keep your distance. Stay behind me and follow my directions."
Ken and Joe gave Mark odd looks but obeyed regardless. The sergeant knew how much they trusted him.
The three soldiers gathered their gear and then, weapons in hand, descended the mountainside in a rush.
Once they were in visual range, Mark realized that he had been correct. There was a large glowing object in the valley. He knew what it was immediately, so he ordered Joe and Ken to find cover.
Mark scanned the area from the top of the knoll, wondering what to expect. In the valley below, he saw a spaceship with an oval-shaped base and a dome-like cap, large enough for one or possibly two occupants.
Memories of the past rose unbidden in his mind.
It can't be, thought Mark.
"It looks like a spaceship," Joe said. He seemed tired.
"No kidding, stupid. I wonder if we'll see . . . any . . . aliens . . .?" Ken added, and then fell asleep.
Beside him, Joe was ready to say something more when he also passed out.
Mark did not waste effort wondering why he remained conscious. He had known he was different for years. Now he had to know if the mysterious visitor inside the craft was a friend—or an enemy.
About twenty minutes passed and nothing happened. Then Mark heard a noise in the direction of the ship. He searched the valley below for the cause.
An opening appeared on the side of the object and an alien creature emerged. It had a human face covered with white and brown feathers and it wore a black and gold uniform.
As the creature stepped through the portal, Mark knew him instantly.
Thesis?
The birdman looked directly at Mark on the summit. Then he smiled and sent a telepathic message.
-Mark, it is good to see you. Do not stand there—come down!-
Mark climbed down the hill to welcome his old friend, a member of the species he knew as the Thunderbirds.
"Thesis, it is you," he said. "It's been a long time. Why are you here?"
"I've been looking for you," said Thesis. "I would have come out sooner but you had others with you. Should I explain to them how you know me?"
"They've been sleeping for half an hour. What took you so long, Thesis?"
"I had to ensure they were deep in trance first. How is everything in the Army?"
Mark crossed his arms. "You did not come all the way from Exor to chat. Why are you here?"
"Mark," Thesis began, and became serious at once, "we need your help again. Better yet, you need ours."
"What do you mean?"
"I do not have time to explain, but Earth is in danger. I need you to come with me to Exor—now."
The sergeant's uncanny intuition flared. Thesis would not lie about this.
"Since you put it that way, let me get my things."
"Mark, when you return to Earth, you will not need anything again."
Mark shook his head and followed the alien into the ship.
Here we go, he thought.
Thesis commanded the ship to disengage the faster than light drive system.
Mark grew impatient as they neared Exor—a planet he knew was far from home in space and time—and demanded an explanation.
"Still the same," said Thesis, laughing.
"Come on, Thesis. Tell me something. You haven't said a word for the whole trip."
Apparently, the birdman understood and respected Mark's need.
"It's Carl," he said. "The first time you met him, he had only recently manifested his powers. Soon you will discover that he is more determined than his father was. Now he has only two goals: Kill you and rule the universe—beginning with Earth—like his father before him."
"Thesis," Mark said, "I stopped Calidor when I was a teenager. Now I'm a grown man. If Carl thinks he can conquer Earth, then let him try."
"You do not understand. Carl is half-human like me, which makes him stronger than his father—and many times as deadly."
A hybrid? Mark wondered. He twitched in his seat. That means the Council must have an ace somewhere.
"Okay, so he's a hybrid. That does change things, but you sound like you want to talk me out of this."
"Mark, I consider you a good friend, as did my father—"
"Thanks for your concern. I'll be fine."
"I think you should know what you must confront, although the Council does have a special plan for you."
"I figured that when you said Carl was a hybrid. I'm strong—but not that strong. What is it?"
"It is the Council's place to tell you, Mark—not mine. I am sorry." Thesis paused, and then he said, "We have arrived."
This was more ominous. Mark knew that an ancient prophecy about the "Chosen One" was the foundation for Exor's government. He also knew that the Council, Thesis, and others believed that he—Mark Gordon—was the Chosen One. He had met the Thunderbirds as they searched for him when Calidor tried to invade Earth with his evil clones.
Was there more to the prophecy that they had not revealed?
The spaceship stopped without audible direction from Thesis—which demonstrated the advanced technology of his people. Thunderbird computers operated ships with few commands from the pilot. Orders were often telepathic as well.
Thesis stood and approached the ship's frame without waiting for Mark. A hole opened in the wall and he stepped through it onto the landing platform, where three Thunderbirds waited.
Mark jumped from his seat and followed Thesis, feeling neglected.
"Mark," said Thesis, "my friends will direct you to your quarters. The Council will convene within the hour."
You are so hard, thought the soldier.
He looked around then and remembered.
"Thesis," he said. "I—can't help thinking about Mary—"
The birdman sighed. "That was a long time ago. I miss her, too."
All the memories, events, and people Mark believed he left behind had returned to remind him of his destiny.
All the people except one very special person, anyway.
Mary—
Would he see his friends again? He could not help thinking about Justin Roberts, as he had occasionally since he joined the Army. Justin had also enlisted soon after Mark did but was stationed elsewhere.
He noted then how the Thunderbirds greeted him with respect—even reverence. The legend of the Chosen One had grown on Exor, and they remembered too. In fact, many Thunderbirds had Earth-centric names, a tradition they had honored for centuries—because of the prophecy.
Mark tried to return the greetings with equal zest, which was easy for him. He always had been proud of himself.
When Thesis spoke again, Mark snapped to attention.
"Mark, the Council will meet soon. Go to your quarters and relax until then. I know you do not want to be late. We can talk later."
Nearly an hour later, Mark and Thesis entered a large chamber at the end of the bay—where the Council would convene. The room was sparse except for a long stone table surrounded by fifty seats. Beyond the head of the table, in front of the far wall, stood an object that resembled an altar.
A whistle blew then, like the sound of an old steam train, and Thunderbirds filled every seat but two before Mark could blink.
"Please sit, Mark," said Thesis.
Mark nodded and claimed the vacant chair at the foot of the table. Thesis sat beside him.
The black and white Thunderbird on the opposite end picked up a stone gavel and struck the table with it.
"The Council is now in session," he said. Then he looked at Mark Gordon. "I am honored to meet you, Chosen One. My name is Calek and I am the Chairman of the Council of Exor."
"Thank you, Calek," said the soldier. "I appreciate the hospitality."
The Chairman reminded Mark of a skunk, despite the feathers.
"You are welcome. How was your trip? Are your quarters acceptable?"
"Yes, Calek. May we please get on with this?"
The Chairman said, "Of course. You have helped us in the past to save Exor and Earth, but Carl now poses a greater threat than you might imagine."
"What are his plans?"
"He desires to conquer Earth with a new biological weapon and then enslave humanity. The weapon is a highly contagious disease that has no effect on most Thunderbirds, but it transforms humans into mindless zombies that Carl can control. Although most of us on Exor are immune, a few are susceptible. All of this is cause for grave concern."
Mark tried to conceal his agitation. He was not sure he succeeded.
"What do you think I can do?" he demanded.
"As you are, there is nothing you or anyone can do. Hybrids like Carl and Thesis sometimes evolve new powers. Carl has—at least twice—and at a younger age than any hybrid in our history.
"However, we will give you powers as well—and you shall be nearly invulnerable. Only the Chosen One can activate the energy of the Spirit Rings. They will give you abilities as vast as your imagination, which you must learn to use wisely."
Calek pushed a pair of rings across the table by staring at them. Mark gazed at the precious stones with mixed feelings.
The Spirit Rings emitted sapphire light that diminished the natural golden hue of the metal.
"Place each on one of your middle fingers," said the Chairman.
The soldier frowned then picked up a ring to examine it. He saw the image of an eagle with the Sun behind it etched into the metal. The bird had claws and wings spread, and its beak was open as if it sounded a battle cry.
Curious, Mark decided to look at the second ring as well. It depicted the same image in every detail except the Moon had replaced the Sun.
"Two birds of prey that share the sky," Calek said then, as if he recited a poem, "to join as one and together fly . . ."
As the Chairman's voice trailed away, the Councilors all chanted in unison:
" . . . to the End of Time."
Mark was stunned. He had never heard this before, although it reminded him of a church ritual.
The Spirit Rings burned in his fingers and the eyes of every Thunderbird in the room came to rest on Mark Gordon.
He heard the synchronous hum of their voices again in his head.
To the End of Time.
Mark realized that he held his fate in his hands.
I can do this, he thought.
Then he slipped on the rings as Calek had instructed—but they disappeared.
Mark stood up and cried, "They're gone! What kind of game is this?"
He knew that the reaction was unwarranted but he could not stop himself.
"Mark," said the Chairman, who did not seem offended, "please allow me to clarify. I promise you that I do not play. The Spirit Rings remain on your fingers whether or not you see them."
The sergeant nodded and closed his eyes. "What do they do?"
"Curl your hands into fists and bring them together. Then you must say, 'Give Thunder!'"
This time, Mark complied without hesitation.
"GIVE THUNDER!"
Energy seized his body and began his transformation into a superhuman. When it was over, a mask covered Mark's head and obscured his sight.
"Behold the prophecy fulfilled!" Calek proclaimed.
Then the Councilors applauded whatever had happened to Mark. He could not deny the energy that surged from the rings throughout his body, but he also wondered what the Thunderbirds saw.
"Thesis," he pleaded, "is there a mirror around?"
"Not in this chamber, T-Bird. I am sorry."
"But how do I know what I look like?"
Thesis laughed and said, "With the Chairman's permission, I will see what can be done."
Calek said, "You may proceed."
Thesis began to stroke the golden pendant around his neck with his right hand, and then pointed his left into the space above the table. Soon a three-dimensional hologram of T-Bird appeared in the air.
Mark Gordon dropped his jaw in disbelief.
The figure wore a black and silver uniform with a gold belt. His boots and gloves were white and the gold outline of a screaming eagle decorated his chest. The mask of feathers, which was white with thin strips of black, covered his head and formed a peak in the back.
When he was satisfied, he told Thesis to relax.
Then Calek said, "T-Bird, if you wish to become Mark Gordon, say instead 'Take Thunder!'"
"Since I feel like I have the strength of a thousand men," said T-Bird, "I think I'll stay this way and enjoy it for a while. Thank you, Calek, and all of you. If you'll excuse me now, I have work to do."
"Chosen One, there is more you should know before you rush into battle."
"What?" said T-Bird, annoyed.
The Chairman produced a compact disc and guided it through the air toward the superhero's waiting hand.
"We have developed this disc for Earth computers. It contains all the data we have about the rings, although I believe you must discover your powers on your own. However, the disc may also serve as a journal, or a message that crosses the boundaries of time—when necessary."
T-Bird nodded and said, "Okay. Is there anything else?"
"Yes, there is. Carl will probably try to kill you as soon as he reaches Earth. To hamper his progress, we planted a burned human body near your comrades. We included a set of—what do you call them—'dog tags?' Regardless, the authorities should identify the body as yours.
"That should give you ample time to devise a plan. Until then, T-Bird . . . good luck."
Joe heard a strange noise nearby. He rubbed his eyes because they were sticky, then opened them and blinked in confusion.
Where am I? he wondered. What's going on?
He saw a bright light from the corner of his eye and he remembered.
Joe crawled to the ridge and inspected the valley. The spaceship was there and it glowed again. Then it shot upward into the night sky, leaving silence and darkness in its wake.
Then he heard Ken moan behind him. He noticed how far down the slope that Ken had slipped when he fell asleep.
We both must have slipped, Joe thought. And where is Sergeant Gordon?
"Ken!" he hissed. "Ken, get up! Sergeant Gordon is lost. We have to find him!"
Private Knight sat up slowly and looked around.
"What?" he said. "What's going on?"
"I said Sergeant Gordon is lost, Ken! Help me find him."
It was dark and face paint distorted Joe's impression of Ken Knight.
"Need a flashlight," said Ken. "Where's the gear?"
"I thought you had it?"
Joe's pack was on his shoulders where he left it.
Ken groped behind him for the flashlight that dangled from his rucksack.
"Here it is," he said after a minute.
When the light appeared and swung toward him, Joe tensed and pressed his body flat to the ground.
Ken laughed at his friend, and then started down the hill toward the landing site. As Joe began to follow, Ken stumbled and fell on his face.
Now it was Joe's turn to laugh, but he quickly lost the opportunity to benefit from it.
"Joe . . ." said Ken, and he moaned like a frightened child. "I think I found Sergeant Gordon."
Last: Sailor of a Dry Sea by Tom Williams | Next: War Witch by Michael Southard
About the Author
Daniel Henderson lives in Maryland. He has published one book, T-Bird, as a collaboration with his friend Michael Southard.
