The Songs of Polaris

2. The Original Human (Part I)

First, the explosion. Then it lost propulsion. Struggling to maintain airspeed and altitude, the unidentified flying object crash-landed in the mountains, east of the Sahara Desert.

Which attracted attention. French Army helicopters soon arrived, stirring up sand into a whirlwind motion. They hovered above the strange-looking vessel, which - despite the impact - remained perfectly intact. Thick coils of rope fell out, followed by special forces soldiers.

Their boots hit the ground, one after another. They established a defensive perimeter in a well-choreographed manner. Guns wielded forward, eyes watchful for intruders. The Reds were lurking somewhere, threatening to nab their extraterrestrial treasure.

The year was 1989, and World War III had just begun. The Soviet Union, in a bid to stave off an impending economic crisis, had invaded the Middle East to obtain French and British oil fields. Conflict ensued across the globe, and Western forces crumbled wherever they fought.

So far, the Sahara had been spared from the war. But not for long. A Russian tank division had been spotted off the coast of Eritrea, and analysts believed its mission was to gallop through the open desert and strike Paris from the south. If so, the entire free world could fall. Liberté, égalité, et fraternité; none of that would matter anymore.

Captain Maurice Dubois examined the spacecraft. It was aerodynamic in shape and measured 110 m in length. He found an entry door above the trapezoidal portside wing. It had a surprisingly human and simple design. A panel to the left emerged, housing a lever inside. He turned the cold handle down, and the surface beneath him trembled.

It lasted for a short while. He regained balance by lowering his stance. Probably decompression, he thought, so the spacecraft could equalize its cabin pressure with the outside. Indeed, the control panel glimmered in green, and the said door popped inward.

Dubois shone his flashlight inside. Nothing but pitch black. He perceived no movement, not even a silhouette by the slightest strand. But for some reason, it felt vast.

"J'entre," said the captain, while pointing his HK416 assault rifle into the infinite black. He was also carrying a micro-nuclear warhead in his backpack, in case things were to go bad. Dubois said a prayer, in the name of the Father. He thought of his son, who could soon become an orphan.

Three more soldiers followed him. Once inside, the all-consuming darkness erased any sense of direction. No walls and corridors, it was unlike anything they had trained for. They switched to night vision goggles - nothing at all.

This abyss. There was no way around it. So they stacked up against each other, putting hands on the person in front. That way, no one would be lost to the shadows.

"Tout le monde va bien?" asked Dubois. "Henri, Jean, Fabien?"

"Oui, bien," replied Henri, his combat medic. The other two replied in tandem, "En vie. Superb."

All here. A sense of relief, if only temporary. Dubois and his team threw signal flares, hoping the pyrotechnics would cut through the immense nothing.

The flares slowed down near the end of their throw-arcs. They eventually vanished, as if devoured by a hidden beast.

Perplexed, the soldiers threw more of the same, as hard as they can. The outcome was no different.

"C'est impossible," observed the captain. But they all saw what happened. Was that magic? Had they gone insane? Dubois clenched his teeth, trying to make sense of the absurdity. Surely the laws of physics could explain this? First the world war, then the UFO. Everything was upside down.

It was then they heard a voice, which sounded distant and faint.

"Come to me."

They were not alone, not anymore. They were being summoned by someone onboard, someone who had survived the fast crash-landing. Reluctant, the soldiers dared not make a move. But the voice was both wanting and inviting. It was otherworldly.

Dubois led his team onward, his ears flicking towards the voice that drew them deeper and deeper into the unknown void.