The Hole
by Robert N. Stephenson
I know I went somewhere… I know I came back… there’s a hole...
— words of Flight Captain Abrams Hanzer, from the return of Long-Jump IV
“How long has he been separated from the others?” Major General Thomas Deere asked, looking down into the white cell.
“He’s been in the Chamber for the last two days,” a nurse answered. She looked at the doctor, puzzlement in her eyes. “He still hasn’t come around.” She touched her desk monitor and brought up the patient’s chart.
“Coma?” Thomas looked from the screen to Doctor Neace standing beside him.
“Brain activity indicates a wakeful state,” she said, offering a slow and pain-filled blink. “For now we are treating it as a coma.”
“Infection?” Thomas read the chart.
“Nothing we can detect,” the doctor said.
“Can you communicate with him?” Thomas touched the screen to go to a new page of the medical report. Captain Abrams Hanzer was his only clue to the fate of the Long-Jump IV disaster.
“Not that we can tell.” Neace touched the nurse on the shoulder. “You can leave us, now. Tell the duty nurse that General Deere has taken over.”
The nurse stood, frowned, then left without speaking.
Doctor Neace tapped a section of the screen. “You should look at this.” The view changed to that of a DNA profile. “Before you ask, I am sure, and I have run the test twenty times using four different protocols. I thought secrecy might be paramount with this case. General, only I have been privy to the testing.”
“Thank you, Doctor. Until we know what happened out there I need to keep a tight lid on this.” He thought for a moment. “What does the nursing staff know?”
“Nothing. I told them Captain Hanzer was one of the ground crew who attended the ship’s landing. He hit his head and we are keeping him under observation. The move from the ward was simply precautionary.”
“Good thinking.” Now that the contamination scrubbers had done their work on the Long-Jump he could get to the ship’s logs. “What’s this?” Thomas said as he moved to touch the screen.
“Don’t!” Doctor Neace snapped, grabbing his hand. “You really don’t want to touch it.” Her hand was cool, shaking.
The screen showed a simple DNA profile with the middle section displaying an ovoid darkness, as if someone had blacked out the section with a marker pen.
“What is it?”
Neace sighed. Thomas could sense her frustration. “No idea, but I am certain touching it wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“What about the other survivors, do they show this black thing?” Thomas asked, understanding her position all too well.
“No, their profiles are normal.”
“Except they have no idea who they are or where they’ve been?” He’d already stopped by the ward and tried talking with them. “You think he’s the same as they?”
“We won’t know anything until the Captain wakes up.” She moved to a recessed cabinet in the opposite wall, placed one eye against the scanner and waited until a small door clicked open. “That black spot has an aspect that is best not shown on the screen,” she said, taking a physical file out of the cabinet and handing it to him. “What ever you do, General, don’t touch the black ovoid.”
“Advice noted.” He opened the file, read a couple of pages before finding the printout of the profile. “And?” he said, not sure what he was supposed to see.
Doctor Neace took out a small penlight and shone it onto the profile. The light reflected off the page everywhere except the black spot. She turned the penlight around and touched it to the dark area then let go of the light. It disappeared as if falling into a hole. The light was quickly swallowed by the blackness.
Thomas dropped the file. “What the hell!” He immediately felt foolish.
“It does the same on the screen, only on the screen it crashes the system,” Neace said. “This is known to you and me alone, General. I couldn’t trust anyone else.”
General Thomas Deere took some comfort from the admission. He picked up the file and handed it back to Neace. Despite regaining his composure his hand shook slightly. Was he as spooked as the doctor?
“I’m guessing you can’t explain this?” he said turning back to stare through the window and down on Captain Hanzer.
“No.” She joined him at the window. “I’m scared, General,” she said softly, as if saying so undermined her position. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“What can you tell me?” So far he had nothing he wanted to face the President with. “Anything would be helpful at this point.”
“The only thing we’ve managed to record with any certainty is that every five hours he moves into what I think is REM for exactly thirty-five seconds, his respiratory rate increases by ten percent for this time; then it returns to normal, restful breathing. Other than this nothing else happens.” She fell silent for a moment. “By all accounts Captain Hanzer should be sitting up and talking.”
“But he isn’t. Why?” Thomas bit his lip, an annoying habit that made him an easy mark at cards. “Have you tried stimulants?”
“Not without authorization.”
Thomas touched his right ear. “Major Sherin,” he said, “send in Schweiger and Parsons. And, Chase, I have Doctor Tammy Neace with me, make the arrangements.”
“Yes, Sir,” the Major replied into the general’s ear piece.
“I’ll get the clearance from the President,” Thomas said as he looked at Doctor Neace. “Scrub this call.”
“Yes, Sir.” Thomas ended the connection.
“The five survivors are to be sent to Washington immediately. Make the arrangements then clear all staff from the building.”
“But what do I tell them?” Neace looked panicked.
“That the job here has been completed and it’s time to go home. Then get yourself back here, we’ve got a man to wake up.”
Thomas watched the slow steady fall of Adams’ naked chest. “What happened out there, Captain?”
* * *
A diminutive man sat hunched over a single sheet of paper with Abrams’ DNA profile ablaze from the bright examination light. Thomas clasped his hands behind his back, resisting the urge to tug at the hem of his uniform jacket.
“What do you make of it?” he asked Schweiger.
“Remarkable,” the small man said, dropping yet another pencil into the blackness.
“I need a bit more than that to put in my report, Stan,” Thomas said, finding his chief physicists’ ponderings unnerving.
Schweiger sat up from the light, took off his black-rimmed glasses and rubbed at his eyes. “It has some of the attributes of a black hole but without the gravitational pull I’d expect...”
“Not the science, Stan.”
“There’s simply no suction in or around the spot. It draws in the light but nothing else.” He rubbed the back of his head. “And it’s shrinking, not by much, but I can detect it.”
“How do you put a black hole on paper? And how on God’s Earth do you get it on a monitor?”
“I said it has some of the attributes, Tom, I didn’t say it was a black hole; that would be impossible.” Schweiger stood from his chair and walked the length of the lab, biting one arm of his glasses. “There’s just no singularity.”
“I’d be happy with a guess at this stage,” Thomas said. The President was pushing for answers and the Press was alive with conspiracy.
“I guess I have no idea then,” he said.
General Deere looked to the ceiling as if he could pluck an answer from one of the rows of light strips. It helped calm him; it would do no one any good if he got on Schweiger’s case.
“Then I hope Parsons is having better luck with the data from the ship.”
“He’s young and smart, I’m sure he’s doing his best,” Schweiger said, his tone suggesting he wanted to get back to work on the hole.
“I’ll be down with the patient,” Thomas said, giving Schweiger the space he wanted.
“And I’ll try and get you something to work with, Tom. Okay?” Schweiger moved back to his chair and the sample.
“Do your best, Stan, that’s all I ask.”
“Always.”
* * *
Doctor Neace prepared the injector with ephedrine while Thomas sat on a chair in the corner of the room, his jacket undone and tie loosened. Neace rubbed antiseptic on Abrams inside wrist then pressed a small injector gun to the area.
“This might take…”
Abrams sat bolt upright causing Neace to lose her footing and collapse on the floor, dropping the injector. Thomas leapt to his feet.
“The hole,” Abrams whispered as Thomas arrived at his side. The man’s eyes were open, but the General could see that there was no vision in the stare. Neace got to her feet, red faced and embarrassed by her reaction.
“Seems the stimulant worked, doctor.” Thomas put his hand on the Captain’s shoulder.
“Yes,” answered Neace. “A bit too quick for my liking, though.”
“Captain Hanzer, are you okay?” Thomas asked.
Doctor Neace began checking Abrams’ vital signs on the small monitor at the head of the bed.
Abrams drew in a deep breath and as he exhaled the tautness in his muscles relaxed. The General helped him lie down again. Abrams’ eyes closed. Thomas looked at Neace who was now busy checking his pulse.
“There’s a hole,” Abrams whispered, eyes still closed.
“Captain Hanzer, this is General Deere, what happened to the Long-Jump IV?”
“A hole,” Abrams said, opening his eyes and staring straight at the General. “There’s a hole.”
“A hole in the hull?” Thomas asked.
“It’s growing. A hole that grows.” Abrams’ eyes darted between Neace and Thomas. He was seeing but not comprehending.
“You are safe on Earth, Captain,” Neace said, touching the man’s face. “You’ve been unconscious for a while, but you are fine now.”
Thomas let Neace do her work, at least Abrams was awake.
“How do you feel, Captain?” she asked, her voice calm, soothing.
“There’s a hole,” he said, his left hand grabbing her elbow. The doctor didn’t pull away.
“Captain Hanzer, there isn’t a hole in the Long-Jump IV,” Thomas said. “The hull integrity is sound. Where is the hole, Captain?”
“Not… the ship…” Abrams’ voice came out as a harsh rush of air. “It’s…” He gasped at the air as if suddenly unable to breathe. Neace quickly fitted an oxygen mask over his face which seemed to calm him.
“Where is the hole, Captain Hanzer?” Thomas asked again.
“A hole… a hole in…me…” The Captain said through the mask.
“What’s he talking about?” Thomas walked around the bed and stood opposite Neace. “Where’s the wound?”
“You weren’t injured, Captain,” she said, stroking his arm, offering reassurance. She looked at Thomas and shook her head.
“It’s growing.” Abrams grabbed the General’s arm. “The hole in me is growing.”
“What happened out there?” Thomas held the man’s arm firm. “What happened on board the LJ four?”
Abrams’ eyes glazed over. “They’re all gone,” Abrams said. “The crew… they’re all gone.” Abrams was sweating, his blond-brown hair matted against his scalp.
“Five came back with you, Captain.” Neace broke from the captain’s grip, grabbed a towel and dabbed at the sweat on his brow.
“Empty,” he said. “They are empty.”
“He knows what happened,” Thomas said to Neace. “Captain, please tell me what happened?” He looked into Abrams’ blue eyes and saw … saw nothing.
“The hole is growing.”
“What hole?” Thomas found himself yelling. Neace shushed him.
“Captain Hanzer,” Doctor Neace said stroking his forehead. “Tell me what you know about your journey; tell me what happened on board the ship.”
Abrams’ expression relaxed as he stared at them; the glaze lifted. Was he seeing them for the first time? Thomas resisted the urge to ask his own questions; the doctor seemed to know what she was doing.
“I know I went somewhere,” the Captain said, looking directly at Thomas. “It was dark, dark and cold…” He looked at Neace. “I know I came back…” The muscles in Hanzer’s neck stiffened. “There’s a hole …” The Captain closed his eyes and fell silent.
“What did you see out there, Captain?” Thomas asked, holding the man’s arm firmly, trying to will him to speak.
“There’s a hole…” Abrams gritted his teeth, his body tensed and the tendons stood out in his neck. It was if an electrical current was passing through him.
“Abrams!” Thomas yelled, feeling the man’s grip bite into his arm. “Abrams!”
“THE HOLE!” Abrams screamed throwing himself forward. His yell echoed in the chamber. He collapsed back on the bed, unconscious.
* * *
“What do you mean it vanished?” Thomas said, snatching the paper from Schweiger. “The bloody thing can’t just vanish.”
“Look for yourself,” Schweiger said handing Thomas a sheet then throwing his glasses down on the bench. “Every one of the printouts, even the record on the screen, all of them, the black spot has gone. It started shrinking faster, then… well, then it was gone.”
“Hell!” Thomas screwed up the sheet and threw it across the room.
“What’s happened?” Doctor Neace asked as she entered the lab.
“That black spot on the DNA profile.” Schweiger looked to Thomas, who nodded. “It’s gone.” He grabbed one of the other copies and handed it to her. “Just looks like a plain old profile now.”
Neace lowered the sheet and rested her butt up against the work bench. “That’s not the only thing that’s gone,” she said, rubbing at her face. “One of the survivors is missing.”
“What do you mean?” Thomas asked, finally gaining control of his frustration.
“The nursing staff said that one minute they had the five packed and ready to go; the next minute they could only find four.”
“Search the facility,” Thomas said, feeling his control of the situation slipping.
“Already underway,” Neace said. “Another thing, the Captain’s woken up again,” she said, not sounding too thrilled about it. “He’s like the others.” She looked at Thomas. “He’s up and about, but he doesn’t know who he is or where he’s been. General, he knows nothing.”
* * *
Thomas sat in the observation room just staring at Captain Hanzer. Abrams sat in a chair wearing a blue gown, sipping water from a cup offered by the doctor.
“What were you able to get from the ship’s records?” Neace asked as she wiped a dribble from the Captain’s chin.
“Nothing,” Thomas said, not even bothering to hide a defeated sigh. “There’s nothing whatsoever on any of the ship’s files.”
“Nothing?”
“Like your patients, doctor, it knows nothing. It’s as if the databases were newly installed waiting for their information packets.”
“Then how did it get back?”
“I presume our dear Captain here had something to do with that, but we’ll never know, will we?” Thomas looked at his jacket crumpled on the floor. He’d give all his service ribbons to know what happened on board the Long-Jump IV.
“What will happen to them?” Neace asked, finishing up giving Abrams his drink.
“Rehab most probably. They’ll be relocated, of course: new identities, the works.” He looked at the young doctor. “With nothing to show it has to be covered up.”
“You mean they can never go home?” She sounded calm, but he guessed she half-expected this.
“No.” He wiped his hands on his trousers, hating the feel of sweaty palms. “Their families have already been notified that there were no survivors.”
“So none of this ever happened?” Neace picked up his jacket for him.
“Oh, it happened okay, but not the way we saw it happen.” He stood up and stared at Abrams. “And we’ve lost another of the survivors; I’ve got the place locked down so they won’t be able to get out of the facility.”
“They…” Neace said then stopped. She rubbed her brow, closing her eyes. She shook her head and helped Thomas put on his jacket, whatever she was going to say obviously forgotten.
“I feel so empty,” Neace said from behind him.
Thomas turned to offer an arm to the disheartened doctor. Her eyes were glazed and she seemed to be unsteady on her feet.
“So… empty,” she said, not looking at him.
“Doctor Neace,” he said taking her by the arm. “Doctor Neace, are you okay?”
“There’s a hole,” she said, falling against him. “There’s a hole.”
Copyright © 2009 by Robert N. Stephenson
