Chương 50: Chapter 49 - Alpha (XI)

August 2, 2024 - Johnson Space Center, Houston, Texas Several hours had passed since the UN speech. Stephen still felt both surprised and disappointed by it. He hadn't expected them to mention the newly detected signal so quickly. After all, it had only been detected a couple of hours ago. And then, to discuss hypotheses with such confidence on live TV—that was undeniably a bold move. He was also disappointed, though not unexpectedly, that no new information was provided about the current climbers.

But he knew they likely had to wait for those 77 days to pass before any new details could emerge. But the surprises didn't end there. The rapid, coordinated moves by governments worldwide were even more unsettling. Every nation seemed to be fully supporting the UN's stance, suddenly reallocating massive resources for climber preparation. This felt even more surreal than the appearance of an alien tower in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. How had the global scenario shifted so quickly? It didn't make sense.

Sure, if they had received this new information months or at least weeks earlier, then maybe. But in just a couple of hours? It was ridiculous. Stephen couldn't shake the feeling that something deeper was at play. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the screen where he had been reading some of the recent news—convocations to climber preparation camps and several focused online programs and courses.

A part of him was satisfied that the governments were taking this matter seriously and focusing on overcoming it as a whole, but another part of him felt that politics and cultural differences made a coordinated worldwide response like this one an impossibility. But perhaps he wasn't giving it the credit it deserved. Maybe some secret worldwide alien response organization existed out there, developed just for these circumstances. In any case, he felt this wasn't bad. No, actually, it was very good.

After all, with a civilization so far ahead of them in technology, they had to tread carefully. And if The Tower was the challenge they had to overcome, then it only made sense to fully invest everything in it. For the first time ever, excluding the possibility of a third world war, humanity's existence was on the line, and their only lifeline seemed to rest on climbing The Tower.

Stephen was lost in thought, his mind racing with the implications of the global response, when suddenly, the sound of bustling noise outside his office broke his concentration. He frowned, trying to make out what was happening. The commotion was unusual for this time of day, especially in his usually quiet wing of the building. Curiosity piqued, he pushed his chair back and stood up, heading toward the door.

As he stepped into the hallway, he saw a young technician hurrying toward him, breathless and visibly shaken. The man's face was pale, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and urgency.

"Stephen," the technician gasped, barely able to catch his breath.

"Oliver... Oliver's come back." Stephen felt a jolt of adrenaline surge through him. Oliver had been another technician, who, like Chiara, had been teleported to The Tower. But... how? What happened to the second ascent and the 77 days? How did Oliver end up back?

"Take me to him," Stephen ordered. The technician led him through the corridors at a brisk pace. As they rounded a corner, Stephen caught sight of a group of armed personnel dressed in black, flanking a stretcher. Oliver was on it, his body restrained, though he didn't seem to be struggling. The sight of the armed guards made Stephen's stomach churn—he remembered these guys. They had arrived quietly a while ago, just in case Oliver or Chiara returned.

They had mostly stayed out of sight, blending into the background, but now their presence was impossible to ignore. Stephen's eyes locked onto Oliver's face. Despite the restraints and the ominous surroundings, Oliver looked strangely calm. Their eyes met, and for a fleeting moment, Stephen thought he saw a hint of recognition in Oliver's gaze. But it was quickly replaced by an unsettling stillness, as if Oliver was at peace with something Stephen couldn't yet comprehend.

As they approached the medical wing, Stephen's mind raced. Why was Oliver so calm? What had he seen inside The Tower? And why were these armed guards necessary? Questions piled up, each more urgent than the last. When they reached the entrance to the medical wing, the armed personnel guided the stretcher inside, their faces expressionless, betraying nothing. Stephen followed closely behind, his focus entirely on Oliver.

"Oliver," Stephen said softly, hoping for any sign of the man he once knew. But Oliver remained silent, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, unblinking.

"Secure the area," one of the guards muttered to his team, and they moved with precision, positioning themselves strategically around the room. Stephen stood by Oliver's side, his thoughts a whirlwind.

"Oliver, it's me, Stephen. Can you hear me?" Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Oliver remained quiet but then suddenly spoke in a quiet voice.

"It's good to be alive. So this was the way back after all," he said with a soft smile. Stephen raised an eyebrow. It made sense, he supposed—all returnees had to die inside The Tower to come back, and in a way, they were being given a second life. But what unsettled him was Oliver's calmness, even while surrounded by guards. Stephen didn't know much about Oliver before, except that he was a rather shy coworker who had secured a position after six months of interning.

"I didn't manage to catch much of the information back then. Would you mind answering a few questions… sir?" Oliver's soft voice continued.

"Yes... yes, of course, Oliver. And no need for formalities. I'm sure this is all a bit of a shock for you, but I assure you, all the information will be provided promptly," Stephen replied, glancing at the guards who were eyeing him with a strange look.

"I just don't understand why such extreme measures are being taken. It—""It makes total sense," Oliver suddenly interrupted.

"I would do the same if I were them." Stephen's expression darkened. He understood that climbers returning from certain floors of The Tower were stronger, but this level of security seemed excessive. Yet, Oliver's approval of it was even more troubling. What had he experienced inside The Tower that made him so accepting of these precautions? And why did he seem to understand more than he was letting on?

"Damn, is this thing heavy," Alonso muttered, struggling as he tried to move the creature. He dug his heels into the ground, using all his strength, but the panther-like beast barely budged. It was like trying to shift a solid block of stone. He paused for a moment, catching his breath and assessing the situation. The sheer weight of the creature was surprising, even given its size. He hadn't anticipated it being this dense." Are you really going to drag this thing all the way to the beach?

You know, another one of these might show up any second." Alonso grimaced, knowing Houston was right. He didn't have the luxury of time.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. But if I leave it here, it's a waste," he muttered, eyeing the panther-like creature." You need to think smarter, not harder." Alonso sighed, realizing that moving the creature was out of the question. He couldn't afford to waste any more time or energy trying to drag it to the beach. Instead, he needed to think about what he could salvage from it, something that could be of use. He knelt beside the panther-like beast, running his hand over its tough hide.

The upper side was like armor, nearly impossible to cut through. Even a full-force strike had only managed to reach halfway through its throat. But the belly—perhaps the belly would be softer. Alonso shifted the creature slightly, exposing its underside. He drew his sword and carefully placed the blade against the softer hide of the belly. With a slow, deliberate motion, he began to cut. The blade met resistance, but it was nowhere near as tough as the upper hide.

He could feel the difference, the give of the flesh beneath the fur. He applied steady pressure, using controlled movements to avoid dulling his blade or getting it stuck. Inch by inch, the blade sank deeper, the hide parting with a wet, almost sickening sound. He focused, blocking out everything else—the potential dangers, the discomfort of working in near darkness, the constant need to keep his senses sharp. It was slow work, but eventually, he managed to create a small opening.

He peered inside, hoping to find something useful—organs, bones, maybe even something valuable hidden within the creature's body. And sure enough, its insides seemed to resemble what he would expect from a panther or tiger. He felt around the inner organs, pushing his arm deeper, but it was all the same. He pulled his arm out, grimacing at the dark blood covering it, the smell overwhelming his senses. Undeterred, he grabbed his sword again and began extending the cut slowly towards the skull.

For some reason, he was drawn to the creature's heart. Maybe it was just a hunch, or maybe he had watched too many fantasy movies. Either way, he felt compelled to investigate. After extending the cut, he reached in again, pushing through the mess of organs until he found what he assumed was the heart. He could feel its shape, but it seemed normal—nothing unusual." Trying to fetch the orb, huh?" Of course he was. He reckoned it had to be in there somewhere, right? But it didn't seem to be in the body. Perhaps…

His gaze shifted to the skull. Breaking through the bone was out of the question, but if he went through the mouth and up… He repositioned himself and carefully pried open the creature's mouth, revealing rows of sharp metallic fangs. The sight was both fascinating and intimidating, each tooth glinting in the faint light. Alonso took a deep breath, gripping his sword tightly as he began to push the blade between the fangs and up toward the skull.

The sword scraped against the hard inner surface, the resistance making it clear that this wasn't going to be easy. He applied more pressure, trying to force the blade through, but the creature's skull was tougher than anything he had encountered. It was like trying to slice through solid steel. Despite his best efforts, he could only make minimal progress. Sweat dripped down his face, and his arms ached from the effort. Just as he was about to give up, his sword hit something softer.

He paused, adjusting his grip, and pushed further, carefully working the blade around until he finally reached what he was aiming for—the brain. With painstaking care, Alonso felt around inside the creature's skull, his fingers brushing against something that wasn't bone or tissue. The moment he touched it, a strange sensation washed over him. Stage 1 - 1. 113%"Aren't I a genius, Houston," he grinned, his arm soaked in blood, the creature's organs spilling out from its belly like a macabre piñata.