Guardians

Guardians

By

A. S. Frye

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2011 A. S. Frye

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Prologue

It has been calculated that a little under fourteen billion years ago this universe did not exist. In its place was . . . nothing. The nature of that nothingness is unknown. Indeed, it is entirely possible that the nature of that nothingness is unknowable. However, at some point an event occurred in that nothingness creating a structure so tiny and so intensely hot as to be inconceivable to the mind of man. In the tiniest fraction of a second, that event, now called the Big Bang, grew and spewed forth everything in the heavens today—every proton and electron and quark.

The universe had just been born.

Protons then bonded with electrons to form the simplest atoms—and by far the most abundant element in the universe—hydrogen. As the universe expanded, clouds of hydrogen spread throughout the vast, dark emptiness. Sometimes pockets of hydrogen would condense until the nuclear fuel inside them ignited. Thus, the first generation of stars were born. But those first-generation stars were sterile. No planets formed for there was nothing in the universe at that time but hydrogen, helium and a scattering of light elements. Before planets could exist, heavier elements had to be created.

Now, pushed by primordial stellar winds, the remaining diaphanous vapors of hydrogen softly surged and eddied. Distant stars sent out faint wave fronts pushing and billowing them like sheets of silk. A hundred million years passed . . . and then another. Occasionally, in their ceaseless, majestic movement, they would form into unimaginably huge, swirling, protostellar gas clouds.

Eons ago, in the outer reaches of one particular galaxy, such a protostellar cloud formed. This cloud was not particularly noteworthy, being like most other clouds forming in all the other galaxies throughout the universe—except for its extraordinary size.

For millions of years that gossamer cloud drifted in a delicate state of equilibrium, not quite tenuous enough to dissipate, but not dense enough to contract, either. Eventually it drifted near a massive hot sun whose stellar wind finally induced a wave of compression which in turn triggered an inevitable chain of events that would lead to the creation of planets—and ultimately, to the creation of life, itself.

The cloud began to contract. The hydrogen atoms moved closer to each other, close enough so that their individual gravitational forces began to add together. Gravity is by far the weakest of the four forces in nature, but unlike the other forces, gravity is always positive. This additive ability allows it to build up tremendous force, and consequently, to generate tremendous amounts of heat. After another hundred thousand years, the cloud had shrunk and heated to the point where its hydrogen nuclei began fusing together forming helium. It began to shine.

Had this been a smaller, more typical star, like the sun for example, it would have led a rather uneventful life. After nine billion years or so, it would have burned all of its hydrogen, leaving a huge ball of helium at its core. It would then collapse. But the gravity-induced heat generated during that collapse would be enough to ignite the helium. And thus the helium would burn for another billion years, forming a huge ball of very dense carbon—one teaspoonful would weigh tons. When all the helium fuel turned into carbon and there was none left to burn, the star would indeed collapse again and generate tremendous amounts of heat, but unfortunately the temperatures required to ignite and fuse a core of dense carbon lie far beyond a normal star’s meager gravitational ability. Thus its death would be rather uneventful, also. The hot carbon would continue to glow for millennia, forming a white dwarf; then the heat would gradually radiate out of it until it became dark and cold.

But this enormous star, ten times more massive than the sun, was destined for a much more spectacular life—and death. It burned its hydrogen fuel at a prodigious rate, pouring intense radiation into space and becoming the brightest star in its entire galaxy. However, this extravagance came at a cost. After eight million years—a mere blink in the cosmological scheme of things—its hydrogen fuel was gone, all fused into helium. It collapsed and began to burn the helium core. But the helium, too, was quickly used up. It collapsed again, and this time the staggering weight of this massive behemoth heated the carbon core well above the critical temperature of six hundred million degrees. The carbon began to burn and fuse with other nuclei, forming heavier elements. And when the carbon was depleted, the star collapsed, generating enough heat to ignite the core again. Thus, in successive stages of collapse and nuclear burning, all the successively heavier elements were created, all the way up through nitrogen, oxygen, sulfur, and ultimately—iron.

Iron is a rather special element. It is the final end product of a very large star’s normal fusion process. Iron will not fuse into anything else and release energy no matter how dense the core becomes, no matter how hot. When a large enough ball of iron forms in the core of a star, fusion stops—forever.

At this point, that galaxy’s brightest star began to die. Without enough heat being generated to support them, the massive outer walls of the star fell inward, gathering phenomenal speed. Nearing the iron core, they accelerated up to—not a mere million miles per hour—but rather, a million miles per minute.

Untold tons of heavy, superheated nuclei, pulled by awesome gravitational forces, rained inward from all sides and smashed into the core with spectacular fury. So strong was the crushing onslaught that the iron core was actually squeezed and compressed into a dense ball that violently distorted the very fabric of space and time. Had this star been just a little more massive, gravity would have relentlessly compressed everything right down into a black hole. But eventually the iron core began to push back. Acting like a spring, it absorbed the tremendous forces, compressing and shrinking until its nuclei could be compressed no more. Teetering on the very brink of total collapse, the star stopped shrinking. Its limit had been reached.

For one brief moment, the walls of the iron core were still. Everything was held in perfect equilibrium. The star was now exquisitely balanced, poised, and prepared for the most stupendous cataclysm since the birth of the universe.

It was time for the core to spring back and release all of its stored energy. The tightly compressed ball of iron rebounded in a titanic explosion, generating temperatures in the trillions of degrees. Now the brightest star in that galaxy became the brightest star in the universe, radiating more energy than a billion suns.

It became a super nova.

The intensity of this catastrophic detonation ripped apart atomic nuclei and slammed their neutrons and protons into other nuclei with enough energy to create the rest of the heavier elements. Thus, in a few brief minutes, all the remaining elements of the periodic table beyond iron were created and sprayed into space, seeding the nearby clouds of hydrogen.

Finally, the stage was set. The next generation of stars to condense from those seeded clouds would be able to form planets. And on one of those planets, life would, indeed, evolve. . . .

***

Huge cracks shimmered with fiery magma where the thin crust of the new planet had been torn apart. Molten lava plumed in great, arcing geysers from thousands of volcanoes, while smoke and ash belched upward along with poisonous gasses such as methane and ammonia, turning the sky a permanent blood red.

Time passed. Eventually the planet began to cool—and then the rains came. At first, sparse and intermittent rain squalls hissed down on the hot surface, but then, as more and more water vapor issued from the tortured ground, thundershowers increased in frequency and magnitude until they became essentially one constant, torrential downpour.

Lightning began to crackle over the entire planet, creating a continuous, deafening roar that shook the warm, muddy ground. The lightning became so persistent and so intense that the evenings hardly darkened at all, but stayed brightly lit with dazzling stroboscopic flashes—and it was at precisely this point that a miracle began to happen.

The energy of the lightning created a fascinating kaleidoscope of chemical reactions in the sky. Methane and ammonia fused with inorganic compounds to form amino acids, while phosphate groups combined with bases and sugars to form nucleic acids. And it was thus that the fundamental building blocks of life were created in the sky and washed down into muddy puddles and ponds, creating a primordial soup. There, the nucleic acids grouped into structures that, through complex chemical reactions, could duplicate themselves. They became the first fragile strands of DNA. They were, however, nakedly exposed to the elements and easily destroyed.

Also floating in the liquid mixture were many fatty acids which, when linked up with molecules of glycerol, formed membranes that folded neatly into tiny, hollow spheres. Occasionally, some of those membranes would trap strands of DNA inside as they formed. And from those humble beginnings came one of the most extraordinary events of all time: the transition of lifeless, inorganic matter . . . into living cells.

The cells would learn to grow and divide. They would form into colonies and learn to specialize; and from that point on, it would simply be a matter of time and evolution until an intelligent race—a race of silvery gray, three-fingered creatures—began to roam the surface of this fourth planet of a star somewhere in a corner of the Cygnus A Galaxy.

Chapter One

We are not human beings having a spiritual experience.

We are spiritual beings having a human experience.

—Dr. Wayne W. Dyer

Santa Clarita, California

Suddenly Kathy sat up rigidly in the back seat of the car. In the darkness ahead—a pair of headlights—but wait—something was terribly wrong!

The lights were sliding—the car was fishtailing. It was sliding right into their lane. Oh, God! It was moving so fast. She stared in horror, hoping wildly for some miracle that would stop—STOP!—it from smashing into them and killing them all.

In the front seat, her father wrenched the steering wheel right as her mother braced for impact. In the back seat, Kathy instinctively turned away from the oncoming headlights. With no time to fasten her neglected seat belt, she twisted around and pressed her back against the rear of the front seat where her mother sat. She and her mother were back to back as Kathy tried to scrunch down close to the floor.

Her father cursed, her mother screamed, and Kathy squeezed her eyes tightly shut, saying only, Please, no.

Her mind began to race at incredible speed, making the next second seem to take forever. And during that eternal last tick of the clock something very strange happened. She became deluged with a whirling kaleidoscope of images from her past:

—a cut knee—tears—Mom’s kiss on her forehead—

—daddy’s voice—a picture book—Alice in Wonderland—

—a birthday party—friends—laughter—

As the two vehicles collided, the front windshield of the oncoming car splintered into a million spider web cracks and broke loose at the top. It whipped down on the hood, tore itself from the bottom, and then slid forward. As it traveled, the jagged blanket of glass grabbed one of the windshield wiper arms, pulling it forward until it was pointing out toward the front of the car. The sliding glass continued pulling, ripping off the rubber wiper blade and leaving the naked metal arm pointing out over the hood like a little javelin.

The seat that Kathy had been leaning against broke loose and tilted forward. Kathy slipped up the back of the seat and through the windshield of her own car. She landed on her back on the hood of the other car and slid, face up, across the hood until the pointed tip of the wiper arm pierced her head and sank deep into her brain. Several seconds passed as the heavy torrent of rain pelted down. It drenched the girl’s clothes, soaked her hair, and ran down her cheeks like tears.

Suddenly, in a spectacular flash, the main trunk of a lightning bolt hit the ground only twenty feet away. A thin, jagged branch from that bolt, no wider than a thread, zigzagged over to the car and lightly touched the rear fender. Electric current flowed up through the car, up through the bent frame, the twisted doors, and the crumpled roof. It flowed forward to the base of the broken wiper arm, and then it flowed down the arm and into Kathy.

Her body convulsed and she arched her back, which pulled her free of the invading metal spear. As she slumped back down onto the wet surface of the hood, her feet gently began sliding sideways until they slipped over and dangled from the front fender. She lay there as still and limp as a rag doll.

After a phone call from a hysterical passing motorist, a police car arrived, followed closely by an ambulance. As two paramedics rushed over to the wreckage, more police cars and ambulances pulled up until the narrow road became cluttered with flashing red and blue lights.

The first paramedic to reach Kathy placed his fingers on her neck. I’ve got a pulse, he said. It’s weak, but she’s still alive.

Rain splashed down on the two paramedics bending over Kathy. Working rapidly, they gently felt for broken bones and other internal injuries.

Okay, nothing’s broken, said the first paramedic. Let’s C-spine her and get her out of this rain.

They wrapped a large plastic collar around her neck, immobilizing her head. Then she was lifted onto an aluminum backboard and cinched down with straps. Finally, the backboard was placed on a gurney, wheeled over to an ambulance, and quickly slipped inside, out of the rain.

The first paramedic climbed in. Ripping open IV packages, he said to the second paramedic, Hook up the EKG while I get the IV’s started.

The driver was given the signal to go. Sirens blared. Red and white lights flashed as the ambulance accelerated toward Santa Clarita Memorial Hospital. Inside, Kathy now had one IV in each arm. Her blouse had been opened and EKG wires were stuck to her chest. Now the soft, steady beeping of her heart filled the cramped space.

How’s she breathing? asked the first paramedic while adjusting the IV lines.

It’s irregular, said the other, listening to her chest with a stethoscope. He glanced at a small LCD readout on a device attached to Kathy’s finger and said, Oh, no.

What?

Oxygen level’s only seventy-six percent . . . and dropping.

Go ahead and intubate.

The second paramedic pulled a plastic tube out of a sterile bag and gently worked it into her trachea. When it was properly positioned, he attached a hose from an oxygen regulator and noted with relief that her oxygen level began to rise again. Just then, the steady beeping from the EKG faltered. After several erratic beeps there was silence—Kathy’s heart had stopped.

***

Slowly the young girl became aware of her surroundings. At first she thought someone might be trying to wake her by gently shaking her. But no, this was different. It was more like . . . a car. Yes, she was feeling the jostle and sway of riding in a car.

She could hear a faint, distant whine. . . . It grew louder . . . and louder. . . . It started to wail up and down. Finally it swelled to the unmistakable scream of a siren.

The girl opened her eyes. How strange, she thought calmly. I must be riding in an ambulance. She looked around and was surprised to see that, contrary to what she had imagined, ambulances were quite small inside and cluttered with equipment. Without giving it a second thought, she floated up to the ceiling where there was much more room and then turned around to look down at what was below her. She saw a teenage girl lying on a stretcher. She didn’t immediately recognize the girl, but she had a nagging feeling that she should know who it was.

Then she became aware of something very strange: time itself seemed to be slowing down. Although the paramedics were frantically trying to help the injured girl, their movements took on a slow, dream-like quality. She watched as the first paramedic, who was now moving as if the ambulance were filled with molasses, applied defibrillator pads to the girl on the stretcher.

O-o-k-a-y, she heard him say in an absurdly slow and deep voice. C l e a r r r r.

Just then, she became aware of a presence beside her, and suddenly she felt embraced by a wave of pure love. It swept through her, filling her with a wonderful sense of peace and comfort. She turned and saw a white sphere of light surrounded by a pattern of colors in the air. She thought: Who are you?

And the answering thought came: Don’t you remember?

Remember?. . . Remember what?

But then suddenly she did remember. It was her friend from . . . before. It was her best friend. They had been best friends for what seemed like forever. She remembered that they had promised to watch over one another whenever one of them incarnated an earthly body. And now, Kathy’s Guardian Angel had come to meet her here.

Come, Kathy. Someone is waiting.

Kathy followed as her friend led her through the roof of the ambulance and up into the clouds. They began to travel faster and faster until, in a final burst of speed, Kathy moved through a long tunnel and arrived at a place where a light shone so brightly she could hardly see anything else. She seemed to be alone again and wondered what had happened to her guardian angel. Then she heard:

Don’t worry, Kathy. I’ll always be with you.

After a moment, she saw two people standing in the light in front of her.

Mom? Dad? Is that you?

Yes, dear. We’re here.

Kathy began to move toward them. As she did, she became bathed in the light and felt a love so powerful it took her breath away. The closer she got, the stronger the feeling became. If she could get close enough, if she could reach out and touch them, she knew that they would pull her into the deepest, most beautiful embrace she could have ever imagined.

She was so close.

Her mom and dad both reached out to her. Now all Kathy needed to do was touch their hands. The auras surrounding her parents glowed with the adoration they felt for her. The feeling of love, perhaps the strongest psychic energy in the universe, was overwhelming. She had never experienced anything so intense.

Kathy reached up. She opened her hands.

Their hands were going to touch. . . .

Suddenly, she was pulled violently backwards. It felt like she’d been yanked from behind by a rope tied to a speeding car. When she stopped, her parents were just small figures in the distance.

Mom! Dad! What happened?

Her parents were silent for a moment. Their energy shifted to sadness.

Kathy, dear . . . something’s not finished yet . . . over there.

What, Mom? What’s not finished?

I’m not sure, dear. . . . But you have to go back.

I don’t want to go back.

We’ll wait for you.

NO! Let me stay.

We’ll be here . . . waiting for you.

No, Mommy. Daddy. N-o-o-o-o-o—

Another violent jolt slammed Kathy all the way back into the ambulance. It took her a moment to orient herself. From above, she noticed that the paramedics were now moving at normal speed. She realized that only a second or two had passed for them, while her journey seemed to have taken much longer. And looking below, she now recognized the girl on the stretcher.

Get anything? asked the first paramedic.

The second paramedic studied a strip of graph paper as it curled out of the EKG machine. It showed a straight flat line.

Nothing, he said.

Okay, we’ll try again.

They waited a moment for the defibrillator to recharge.

Clear, called the first paramedic. Then he pushed a button.

Kathy was suddenly wrenched directly over her body. She floated just inches above it. As she looked down closely at her face, she noticed that a tuft of her rain-soaked hair had been pushed up and now drooped down over her forehead, looking a little like a question mark. As she watched, a drop of water formed near the tip of it. Slowly, the drop swelled, becoming fatter and heavier. The bottom of it bulged down, quivering slightly from the motion of the ambulance. Then it slid off and splashed onto her forehead.

Still nothing, said the second paramedic. He looked over at Kathy, reconsidering her size and weight. I’m sure she’s over forty kilos. She could probably handle three hundred Joules.

Okay, then, answered his partner, let’s bump it up.

He clicked a switch and initiated the charge sequence. After a moment, a steady, long beep indicated the machine was ready.

Here we go, he said and pushed the discharge button.

Suddenly, as if she were in the ocean and had just been sucked into an enormous undertow, Kathy felt a powerful surge pull her down.

Inside the ambulance, the EKG started beeping again.

Chapter Two

By the pricking of my thumbs,

Something wicked this way comes.

—Shakespeare

San Diego, California

While Kathy was on her way to the hospital, her uncle Bob was sitting in a trailer watching reruns of I Love Lucy on television. He crinkled his empty beer can and turned to his wife, Phyllis. Bring me another beer, he said.

Phyllis went to the small refrigerator in the kitchen area of their trailer and took out a beer. All we’ve got is a six-pack left, she said.

Well, then, why don’t you just trot on down to the Seven-Eleven and get a couple more?

I’ll need some money.

Oh? What happened to that twenty I gave you yesterday?

I spent it on dinner.

What? A box of macaroni and cheese cost twenty bucks?

I bought other stuff, too, Bob.

What other stuff?

Just dinner stuff. You know: hamburger helper, hot dogs, a couple cans of Dinty Moore. Phyllis reached for her purse. Here, I saved the receipt.

Oh, never mind, said Bob. Here’s another twenty. Now try not to blow it all in one day this time, will you? We ain’t got a whole hell of a lot left.

Well, if you’d get a job— blurted Phyllis before she even realized what she was saying. The fact that she raised her hand to her mouth and looked so surprised—letting Bob know it was a slip, not a deliberate dig—probably saved her from a severe beating.

Nevertheless, Bob stood right up and took her by the shoulders, squeezing painfully. "Now just exactly what is that supposed to mean? You know I can’t work on account of my back, don’t you? . . . Don’t you? . . . ANSWER ME!"

Phyllis