A/N: This is my first attempt at a StarTrek fanfic and I hope I can do it justice. I've read many of the works already published and I pondered long and hard about going with a time travel fic, since I know it can end up with disaster. I want to do it right and do it well. I hope you guys enjoy and I'll do my best to update once a week (Say... every Tuesday?). The first chapter runs a little slow, but the pace picks up pretty quick. If you enjoy it, let me know with a follow or review. :)

STARDATE 2492.197

M. J. Archer Base Camp

Antarctica

Adjusting his lab coat and pushing back stray strands of brown hair, Commander Eli Jefferson prepared himself for one last inspection, a data PADD resting across his left arm. It wasn't particularly necessary, but the situation allowed for additional precautions. He knelt at the base of the ten foot structure. He climbed up several ladders stationed around its mass. All done in order to check items off the list, his trained eyes searching for anything out of place. A missing bolt. A cracked tube. A misaligned cable. Anything that could cause a malfunction.

The commander wasn't alone as he paced around the white spherical pod, several other high ranking Starfleet officers making their own observations, each carrying an identical PADD. The five man team, comprised of four humans and a vulcan, flowed around one another with the grace of water. Double check. Triple check. Aside from the soft taps signaling data entries, the circular room was surprisingly quiet.

Eli was one of the first to finish, glancing over his shoulder once more at what would be one of the most recognized achievements since Cochrane. Some of the greatest minds of the Federation had joined together to construct the device. Eli felt his chest swell with pride having been a part of it. He wondered if the vulcan shared the sentiment.

One by one, the five man inspection team slowly gathered together, comparing notes and murmuring on with excitement, breaking the prolonged silence. No one had found any trace of error, which meant that in twelve hours time the pod would be sent to its destination. An hour after that it would return to the room it currently resided in. And then history would reflect on their dedication.

It was a good day to be a scientist.

A soft hiss drew their attention back to the pod, their eyes never straying as symmetrical breaks formed in the pod's surface, revealing a hatch. They watched on, not with surprise, but with anticipation. It opened outward, releasing more soft sounds of escaping air, and lowered until it touched the pristine floor to form the pod's landing ramp. One man and one woman stepped out from within the sphere, both dressed in soft yellow uniforms. Both wearing smiles.

"It's ready." Captain Matthew Parcell stated, jerking a thumb towards the pod. Two words that the team had been hoping to hear. Of course, they hadn't been expecting any other diagnosis.

"Yes." Eli responded, a small grin forming. "Yes it is." More statements of approval followed. Finally, Matthew and Joanna stepped off the ramp, beginning the short walk that would lead out of the launch site. Eli followed, stopping once to submit his results to command, and once more to place his PADD on its return cart. Even with the delays, he caught up to the two pilots before they reached the osmium plated doors.

"Won't be much longer now." Matthew said, not facing Eli as he addressed him. Eli wasn't too bothered by it, the captain presently occupied with the security panel embedded between the sliding doors. And, after years of working together they had grown past some of the more common courtesies. Matthew finally looked over his shoulder, pinning Eli with a soft green gaze. "I can't believe we're here."

As the double doors parted a swift gust of cold air made its way inside the room, a testament to the harsh environment outside the compound's walls. It was also a reminder of the safety precautions being taken. Predominately, isolation.

"Better start believing it. We launch in-" Joanna broke off as she stepped out of the room and into a white walled corridor., "Eleven hours and forty-seven minutes."

"And there is still much to be done." Eli supplemented, mentally listing what would follow. Starfleet command would be arriving in seven hours, along with Federation representatives and a contingent of Vulcan and Andorian scientists. There had even been word that the Romulans would provide an ambassador, though that was still uncertain with their newly budding alliance. The event could serve to bring them further within the Federation or potentially empower them individually.

Of course, all that was politics and beyond Eli's range of concern. Instead he focused on the fact that the inspection team would run three more complex simulations and verify future calculations. Which meant he needed to bid Matthew and Joanna luck and head off with his own team.

As he prepared to turn and face the captain, he found himself interrupted with, "I know, I know." Matthew's words were accompanied with a wink. "Good luck." The captain shot him a brief salute and then started forward with Joanna in the opposite direction, leaving Eli with the other four inspectors.

"Commander Jefferson." The senior inspector, Chief Commander T'Janis, drew Eli's attention back to the task at hand, his eyes meeting a pair of brown ones. The female Vulcan falsely appeared impatient, the downfall of having a blank expression. Then, for a brief moment, Eli could almost see a flash of anxiety cross her slightly wrinkled face. "We will begin a simulation in twelve minutes. I presume you will be present?"

The fact that the chief bothered to state the obvious meant something, though Eli wasn't sure how to translate her actions. "I will. I am actually on my way to the lab. Care to join me?" T'Janis tilted her head, her hand gracefully swinging, motioning for Eli to 'lead the way'.

The walk was relatively short, the lab strategically positioned close enough to the launch room that, should an emergency arise, someone could physically get to the pod. When Eli and T'Janis passed through the security doors, they were met with the other three team members.

One of them, Lieutenant Commander Timothy Walker, glanced up from a row of computer monitors. "We're engaging Project Pon Izau simulation one." The Vulcan words didn't flow easily from the human male, the pronunciation a slurred 'pon ease how'.

Project Pon Izau. Time Shift. When Starfleet first began toying with the idea, the Federation came forward with its concerns. Time is delicate. It can be used against us in ways we cannot even fathom. The damage will be irreversible.

And Starfleet responded with the only answer that could ever change the minds of the Vulcans. "We cannot let it happen again." Together, they developed the Temporal Directive. A series of classified rules and regulations designed to protect the time line that they would one day ride. Only after it was established did Project Pon Izau begin.

Eli mused on the project's history, thinking of how far Starfleet had come. How tightly it had drawn the Federation together.

"Commander." T'Janis pulled Eli from his thoughts, directing him towards an empty console. Its display was already filled with data, compilations of previous inspections, simulations, and projections. He took a seat, located his headset, and gave a slight wave to T'Janis over his shoulder. Sliding the soft material over his ears, blocking out the voices of the other technicians, he was ready.

"Commencing simulation one." A computerized voice spoke through the headset.

With the cue, Eli inhaled, his fingers moving swiftly and accurately across the control panel to submit information. "Computer, set destination. STARDATE 2392.197."

Several hours later, Eli was mentally exhausted. He anticipated that his pupils would take another half-hour to return to normal after having been focused on the display monitor for such an extended period.

An additional simulation was added, one member of the inspection team encountering an error with the chroniton ring generator. After examining the subsequent data, it was determined that the computer had a defect in its memory storage and the additional simulation was enough to counter the system failure. The team celebrated with replicated champaign, and toasted to the journey that Matthew and Joanna would be making.

By the time the deadline struck, everyone felt more than prepared. Or as prepared as someone could be for such a momentous occasion. The lab's computers were re-initialized, wiping clean the simulations and uploading the programs for the first test run of the chroniton pod.

Eli couldn't help but feel nervous as the team watched on security cameras as Matthew and Joanna suited up next to the pod. He adjusted his headset in order to be fed audio, even though they weren't scheduled to synchronize in for another twenty minutes. "-good thing we don't wear these everyday." Matthew's jovial voice came across clear through the headset.

"I thought it was bad when we were fitted." The two laughed and Eli found himself smiling. T'Janis, wearing her own headset, glanced over in his direction.

"Humans. Complaining about equipment that is designed to keep them alive." Though it was almost snarky, Eli interpreted the remark as T'Janis attempting to connect. He winked at the vulcan, who simply raised an eyebrow in response.

"We complain. It's part of our appeal." Eli said with a shrug. Attempting to change the topic's direction, Eli found himself asking, "Have you had a chance to see the diplomats?" Save for their Chief Commander, the team had remained in the lab, seeing to the set up of the computer systems.

"I have. The Ambassador has arrived, along with four members of The Science Academy. The Klingon Chancellor is also in attendance with two scientists from Qo'nos. Seven Romulans arrived an hour ago. I believe they have passed through security. And three Andorians. I am not aware of their... profession." Her reply was more informative than he had expected, and just as quickly as she ended the conversation, she resumed watching the security feed. Eli guessed that the diplomats had their eyes rapt on the same images.

Matthew and Joanna placed their palms simultaneously against the pod's surface, the breaks beginning to form for the hatch. As a security measure, the pod itself would only open for five people, two of them required to bypass the entrance locks. No single person could ever open the pod and no single person could operate it.

It was regulation two-seven delta of the Temporal Directive.

Once Matthew and Joanna entered the pod, the team lost visibility of them. Originally, the pod had been designed with a view screen, but during an initial engine test they learned that a transmitting a visual feed from within the pod interfered with the chroniton drive. Even though the disruption wasn't considered significant, the team simply decided to use an audio only feed.

However, they kept the security line open to watch the room itself.

Over the course of three minutes, the team became re-acquainted with Matthew and Joanna's voices, listening in to their chatter, soft smiles spreading on their faces as the two captains eased themselves into the situation.

Eli would have done the same under the circumstances. Despite all the calculations, all the simulations, and all the projections. There was still the chance that those two would never make it back. But that kind of negativity wasn't something the team allowed to thrive. Instead they focused on ensuring that Captain Parcell and Captain Pike would see them in an hour and ten minutes.

"Commencing countdown to launch. Ten minutes." Command's broadcast reached the entire compound.

"Ready, Jo?" Matthew.

"Can't really back out now." A few nervous laughs echoed through the lab.

As they had been trained, Matthew began talking through the process. Since there was no video feed from inside, that was their affirmation that the two captains were operating on schedule. That and the physical changes in the pod over the security feed."Powering ring generator. Sealing hatch."

The confidence in his voice was present, one of the reasons Matthew had been chosen to be pod's pilot. Fearless... and even when he felt fear, he pushed through. He'd once stated that there was always a way home and if something went wrong, he'd not stop til he found it. His career had proven that to be true.

But how does someone find their way home when it doesn't even exist yet?

The pod's hatch finally sealed, and all the members of the team had their eyes rapt on the monitors, switching between watching small openings forming on the pod's surface and a steady stream of data confirming the pod's status. The ring generator had been designed with nodes across the pod's surface to help ensure stability of the chroniton rings.

"Countdown to launch. Seven minutes."

"Time to hover. Engaging thrusters." The pod lifted off the ground, remaining at just over a foot in the air. Eli glanced at a temperature reading of the room, noting a twenty degree spike in temperature. So far, so good.

"Establishing ring one." Hearing Joanna's command, Eli could picture her operating the console to release built up energy from within the ring generator, which was redirected through magnetic fields. The energy would flow through an exit port at the base of the pod, then continue from node to node until it was a steady circle around the sphere.

"Hey, Eli."At Matthew's call, Eli's cheeks heated, a flush forming as the captain singled him out. "How's it looking?"

He fumbled with the headset, his fingers finding the open comms button as he responded. "I'm sure command is keeping you well informed."

"They are. I just want to know how it looks from your perspective." Matthew wasn't able to see the formation of the rings, but the inspection team had a perfect view. Ring one expanded outwards from the pod, spinning strings of light that slowly beginning to rotate. It looked like a planetary ring, keeping an even six inches from the pod's surface. The nodes released small magnetic containment fields, blinking in time as they worked to keep the ring stable.

For a brief moment, Eli felt reminded of an angel's halo. A remarkable feat of ingenuity and invention. They had witnessed this on a much smaller scale during the test runs, but the size of the pod and the even greater size of the rings caused Eli's chest to tighten with awe.

"It's beautiful, Captain. You'll be able to see the feed when you get back." His fingers left the comm button, their open connection coming to a close. He couldn't risk distracting Matthew, or let Matthew distract himself.

"I'll hold you to it." He nodded, despite his friend not being able to see it.

"Establishing ring two." A second halo expanded, passing through the first ring. Bright sparks flew at each intersection of the rings, tiny crinkle sounds of electricity flowing across the headset. The gray color of the second ring contrasted with the pure white of the first, each one identifiable as they passed through one another.

"Countdown to launch. Five minutes."

"Ring three." The pace of the captain's work increased. Once the first ring was established they could only hold the rotations for ten minutes max before having to restart the system. Calculations had allowed for a three minute buffer should the first ring fail formation.

Not that they had anticipated a failure.

Each of the following rings appeared with darker shades, the fifth ring appearing black, small slivers of white light wrapped throughout it. "All rings holding." Matthew announced. "Preparing to activate Chroniton drive." Though the rings were captivating in their looks, the chroniton drive was the true hero of the pod.

The drive was designed to release chroniton particles throughout the rings, surrounding the pod with their unique temporal properties. Too few rings and only part of the pod would be transported, too many and the particles would be spread too thin. Upon the drive's activation they suspected the pod would simply vanish, though this would be the first time witnessing the pod's departure with human passengers.

A burning sensation formed in Eli's chest and he realized that he had been holding his breath. Glancing around him, he observed the other inspectors all wearing flushed expressions. At least he wasn't the only one, he thought as he rubbed his palms against the bottom of his lab coat. His eyes landed on T'Janis, who was oddly expressive for a Vulcan, her gaze rapt on the screen, her fingers clenched tightly.

Her mouth made silent words, but Eli wasn't very good at lip-reading, much less in Vulcan. Maybe there were times where even a Vulcan prayed.

"Launch in five-four-three..." His gaze returned to the screen, watching as the five rings of the pod widened further from its surface, their circumference thickening, as if strengthening themselves for what was to come. As they grew in size, the small static sounds rose to a dull roar. Eli adjusted his headset to compensate.

"Drive active!" Matthew shouted above the noise, indicating that even the Captains were not protected from the sound, despite the dense osmium shielding of the pod's surface.

"One."

"See you in a hundred-"

No one made a sound. Not when the rings imploded into the pod. Not when all that was left was an empty launch room. And not when the computer made the announcement, "Launch complete." The destination should be free of all life. Antarctica. STARDATE 2392.197.

For a brief moment Eli felt a sharp spike of dread as he wondered if they had just sentenced themselves to non-existence.

July 15, 1992

Flagstaff, Arizona

Amelia Wright browsed, searched, and perused, her trained eyes looking for perfection. Or at least the potential for it. It wasn't often that she had the opportunity to be picky, the merchandise before her quite a haul from home and much more abundant.

Finally, she settled a sharp blue gaze on her prize, a satisfied gasp escaping from between parted lips.
"There you are." She murmured at the sapling with a smile, as if trying to encourage the plant. "You're going to be very strong one day." The statement wasn't entirely true, but Amelia had never discouraged a plant before. She didn't intend on starting with a dogwood who wouldn't bud a flower for several more years.

For as long as she could remember, she loved watching things grow. Animals, people, plants. They age, molded by the elements around them, developing personalities and quirks. Animals were simple, easy to figure out. Happy, sad, and bored. People were a little more challenging. Happy with traces of the other two. Sad, with a touch of anger. But plants...

Once a plant was rooted, past it's first budding season, that was usually that. Her father would call her silly for assigning moods to a plant. Her mother would defend her, understanding because she had shared a similar love.

The dogwood was still too young for Amelia to say for sure what its temperament was, but if she had to guess she'd give it stubborn. Much like her father. "Yep. You're a Henry all right." She muttered, leaning in closer to eye its trunk, adjusting the strap of the backpack on her shoulder.

"Amelia!" She started at the shout, her eyes narrowing to glare at the short bald male making his way towards her. Not that she held any true ill will towards John... she simply had an aversion to surprises. Straightening to her full frame, she placed a balled up fist against her hip, hoping the posture was enough to discourage his behavior.

Of course, five feet wasn't particularly intimidating. Combining that with the blond hair pulled back in a pony tail and what some had jokingly called doe eyes, she wasn't likely to discourage much of anything.

Fumbling with the rolled up cuff of her flannel shirt, she let her eyes relax, losing the narrowed glare.

"Yes?" She huffed as John finally came to a stop to stand by her side. His gaze was drawn almost immediately to the dogwood, a frown slowly appearing. Already she knew that what he planned on saying wouldn't be what she wanted to hear.

"It'll be hard to culture back home." He crossed his arms in disapproval, tilting his head as he looked upon the thin branches. With a careless grasp, he lifted up one of the branches, the limb threatening to break. She briefly wondered how the man had succeeded into the horticulture business, treating the plants so harsh.

"No worse than here." Amelia knelt down, inspecting the sapling further. She fought a frown as she touched the soil, her hands coming back without a smudge of dirt. Too dry, she thought, finally letting that frown show.

"I've only had it for a week and it's already turning brittle. Dogwoods aren't made for this environment. You'll spend too much time and money keeping the soil rich and he'll never transplant anywhere. Damn thing saps up water in seconds."

"I've never had one at the greenhouse. I think he'll fit in nicely." Amelia closed her eyes to picture a fully grown Dogwood in the center of her greenhouse, its branches covered in soft white blooms. The frown on her face dissipated. It would take quite a bit of work, but she was certain it would be worth it.

"Well, the boys loaded up the Mallows and the Silver Puffs. I suppose I'll throw in ole-" He arched a brow and waited with mild impatience for Amelia to supply a name. They'd been down this road a time or two.

"Henry."

"-Henry here." Shaking his head and huffing, he knelt down to grab the pot, waving Amelia off when she went to assist. At least he showed a little more care as he cradled the plant. When he met her gaze, his brow crinkled, his mouth opening briefly before snapping shut. She recognized the concern almost instantly.

Confusion crossed her features, her hand grasping the backpack and steeling herself for bad news. "What?"

"Nevermind." John added with a shake of his head. "I'll take him out to the truck and meet you up front." Abruptly, he turned away from her, heading out back to where her little red Ford ranger was parked. She watched his back for a few moments, before turning the opposite direction.

Amelia had known John for almost six years, stopping by his plant nursery at least once a quarter. And never once had she seen him act that way. Angry over bad seasons, she'd seen. Sad after losing his wife. Bitter quite a few times. But concern was new.

Maybe I've read him wrong, she thought, still thinking about it when she made it to the register. The backpack fell at her feet, her hands searching through the front pocket for a small wad of cash. A stipend she'd saved just for this trip.

By the time she'd finished counting, rising to stand, John had already made it back and was still wearing that same expression on his face. "You gonna tell me what's on your mind?" Directness was something a man like John appreciated, and after she asked the question, she knew that it was the right one.

He sighed and rubbed a hand across his bald scalp, a nervous tick that she'd seen a few times in the past. It was usually followed by bad news. "Honestly... I've been hoping you would stop by." She kept quiet, her fingers clutching tighter around dollar bills as he spoke. "I'm worried about you."

"I'm doing fine." She relaxed a little. The greenhouse was thriving, her sales enough to pay taxes, utilities, and give her a little extra each month. Yeah, she'd stopped eating red meat a while ago, but overall she was doing good.

"No, hun. I'm worried about you being in the middle of nowhere. Especially with everything going on." Everything going on? Amelia hadn't been into town in at least three weeks, and the paper she had picked up that morning still sat unread in her truck. Maybe she should have skimmed through it before picking up plants.

"What's going on?" He gave her a sideways glare, the look asking if she was serious.

"You don't watch the news?"

"I don't have television, John." She'd gotten by without it so far, but for a brief moment she wondered if she'd missed out on that much because of it. If the news had been that bad, surely someone would have called her. Like the family you don't have? Or one of her customers would have mentioned something.

"The war is spilling over." The war currently causing havoc an ocean away. The war the US had been fighting to keep off the borders. The war that 80 percent of the population had been ignoring. "New York City declared martial law yesterday. Mandatory gene testing. Checkpoints at the border."

Genetic tests meant the military was looking for one thing. "There's Augments in America?" The public, though primarily ignorant of the specifics, had received bits and pieces of news. Augmented humans in Asia and Europe rising up, claiming some sort of right to leadership and instilling dictatorships. Most people shrugged it off as rumors, especially secluded Americans like herself.

"Apparently." John pointed at her hands and the crumpled up bills within them. "Pretty soon, that's going to be worthless."

Amelia shrugged, "No more than it is now." Because there had been optimism about the economy, built through propaganda. Propaganda that Amelia had been more than willing to indulge in simply because society hadn't fell just yet. And even if it did, she'd turn on her generator and wait out the worst of it.

Why did John seem so worried, when he knew that her little patch of land made her self sufficient?

She must have said some of her thoughts out loud because John responded with, "I'm worried because you may have food and water, but when the soldiers pass through you'll be alone."

"Maybe, but if they pass through we'll have more to worry about than the soldiers." She held out the useless bills and John drew them from her grasp. Despite his negative statements, he still had faith in the system. Or was at least faking it.

"You can always stay in Flagstaff. I've got the guest house out at the ranch."

"Thanks for the offer, John." Kneeling down, she grabbed the backpack, swinging it onto her shoulder with a huff. Her eyes drifted towards the window of the shop, the sun just a few hours from setting. She'd need to leave soon if she wanted to make it home before dark. "But I can take care of myself."

"I hope so." Resignation settled on his face and Amelia wondered if the man thought more of her than just a customer. A daughter maybe? Perhaps that was why he was looking at her like he was about to lose a loved one.

She gave him a small smile, an attempt to not let her visit end of a sad note, though there wasn't much she could do to change the mood. "I'll see you in a couple of months." A promise of sorts. That she would take care of herself. That she asked the same of him.

"Yeah. I suppose so." He slipped her the receipt, catching her hand in his own. She looked down at his grip, noticing the dirt under his nails and the calluses against her palm. She'd misjudged him before. John made an excellent horticulturist. Not because he cared about a person, plant, or animal's mood, but because he took care of it. In his own way.

"A couple of months." She said again, and he released her, giving her a sad smile.

During the walk to her truck, she made several mental notes. Get the paper more often. Call John once a week. Restock on some non-perishables. Re-fill the five gallon gas jug. And do an inspection on the generator.

She recalled her great-grandmother telling stories about the depression. Preparation had kept them alive for the most part, along with a touch of luck. She intended on being prepared, especially with John's update on the war.

It was coming, even if she hadn't believed it before.

The dull red of her truck pulled her back to the present, her eyes drawn to the back where Henry stood tall. The Silver Puffs required her to lean over the bed to see them, their lack of buds testament to the season. She'd ensure that they made it with her to next year.

Tossing the backpack in the passenger seat, she climbed inside, looking over her shoulder at the nursery, rows of plants visible through the opaque plastic walls. Next trip she'd pick up tomatoes and squash.

Definitely.

As she pulled around front, John rested against the door frame watching her, his gaze following the Ford. With fingers against his forehead, he waved her off, his expression appearing grim even in the distance. He was still standing there when she looked in her rear view mirror, the store parted by tall Henry in the back of her truck.

Finally, she set to the road, the sun to her left, heating her arm on the window.

Her mind was occupied with news of New York City and she couldn't picture such a police state being enforced. Though it wouldn't be happening unless the military thought it necessary. Augments were said to be stronger, smarter, and overall superior to the standard person. Many myths surrounding their creation had started during the cold war and after some of the Nazi projections were made public.

Amelia made the decision to call a few of her friends when she arrived home, to see if they had heard anything from overseas. If all of this talk of war was true, then Europe and Asia were in deep peril.

Her eyes drifted to the passenger seat, the newspaper nestled under her backpack. Perhaps she would stop by town just before getting home and pick up a more local paper. Flagstaff news might have something concerning other states, but Page's daily ledger would be more telling of the situation close to home.

If there was one thing worth doing on a drive through the desert, it was thinking. She loved calling Arizona home, it's beauty rugged and unrefined, much like the man back at the nursery. Her eyes drifted across the desert plane, cacti standing a little slouched, tumble weeds occasionally taking their chances across the road.

The heat of the evening started to fade, the sun only halfway visible on the horizon, and Amelia yawned, exhausted from both the trip and her concerns. She caught a flash of movement from her corner of her eye, her foot hitting the brake and clutch together instinctively.

"Shit!" She swore, an uncommon occurrence, as the ford came to a sudden stop, fatigue suddenly replaced with adrenaline. The truck's shifter was jerked into park. It sputtered, stalled, and died just as she leaned up to get a good look in front of her bumper.

A coyote sat, unharmed with its ears down, in the center of the road. If looks could kill she'd be coyote food.

She silently said her thanks that she was alone on the road and no one had been injured. To include the still pissed-off animal before the truck. "Well, you caused this incident, buddy." Her voice must have startled the animal, because just as soon as she had spoken, it took off tin a sprint towards the desert, a small plume of dust following.

With a snort, she turned the key, quick clicking noises indicating a worse problem. Her eyes narrowed at the steering wheel, her hands already shoving up the fallen sleeves of her flannel shirt. Though the old ford was usually reliable... there were days she wished she could trade it in for something newer. An automatic perhaps.

She twisted the key again, that clicking noise grating on her frayed nerves. Resting her head against the steering wheel, she glanced out the driver's side window at the sunset. Her head shot back up almost immediately.

A ball, roughly the size of her garden shed, appeared silhouetted in front of the sun. Out of seemingly nowhere.

"What the hell?" Without the obstruction of buildings or forest, she could see it clearly even from a mile away. And the sight of it had her opening the driver's side door and stepping out onto the blacktop road. It hovered surrounded by strings of white light. If only she had kept one of those bulky phones in her truck. If only she owned one of those bulky phones.

For several moments she stood mesmerized by it, taking in its alien appearance. The thought spurred her to shout, "Oh my god. It's an alien!" Like with the coyote, she felt her words had some sort of affect, the light around the ball vanishing. Then it fell to the Earth.

The impact as it hit the surface made a soft thud, but she took distance into account and imaged it was much louder on site. After her stunned state faded, more assumptions came to mind. If it's an alien, then it could be hurt. First contact couldn't be remembered by humanity's lack of compassion, she determined. Impulsive behavior seemed to take over in place of panic.

Remembering that she kept a small first aid kit in her backpack, she ran to the passenger side of her truck and threw the door open. The strap was barely settled over her shoulder when she began the jog towards the foreign ball a mile away.

"Best thing you have in that kit is an ace bandage, 'Melia." And if they were indeed aliens, then her lack of medical supplies might be irrelevant. Heart hammering in her chest, from both the jog and the situation, she was almost half-way there when another thought occurred to her.

The Augments. What if this was part of their invasion? What if that ball was used to keep them hidden from air traffic control. A sort of shield. Her body stopped moving, fear gripping her in place. John had been right to be concerned about her safety. She was in the middle of nowhere, being driven by her nature to help out strangers.

"It could be some sort of satellite." She reasoned, a slight hysterical laugh following. But what kind of satellite suddenly appears in the sky? "I'm just a horticulturist! Why do I have to make these decisions?!"

Amelia stared at the object resting just under half a mile into the desert, debating on if she should continue forward, or run back to the truck and get out of dodge. Someone could be hurt. Alien, augment, or astronaut, it made no difference.

Her feet started moving again, carrying her towards the sphere. As she closed the distance, trotting another quarter mile, she was able to see more details. No openings, doors, or hatches were visible on the white surface, which made her wonder if anyone really was inside.

How would they have gotten in there?

She was nearly two hundred meters away when the Alien theory seemed confirmed. The ball that had embedded itself a foot into the Earth, began to rise, small waves of heat drifting towards her. Then a single ring of light formed around it.

Even though it looked pretty, she was terrified. Amelia threw a glance over her shoulder, staring at her truck. If she jogged she could make it in seven minutes. If she ran she could make it in five. She turned her head back to face the levitating sphere, mimicking the salute that John had given her just a couple of hours prior.

"Looks like you have this handled."

And then she turned back and ran towards the haven of her little red Ford. I am not dying today. She told herself, unable to voice it through huffs of air. Behind her she could hear electrical sparks, like when she plugged something in wrong and heard a tiny buzz. Except these sounds weren't tiny and reminded her more of thunder.

And they only served to make her run faster.

Amelia wasn't an adept runner and the desert landscape didn't help matters. She stumbled over sudden dips in the ground, kept looking back over her shoulder at the shining ball that was now several feet in the air, and overall just failed to keep a good pace. That five minutes was quickly turning into seven.

Another glare was sent back at the sphere. Momentum carried her in a circle when she turned just a little too much, her back hitting dirt a second later. The air whooshed from her lungs, her gasping barely audible over the sound of thunder.

Just as her breathing became steady, everything turned white. Pain erupted in her ears, her hands instinctively moving to protect them. She'd been wrong about it all. There was no one inside because the damn thing was a weapon.

Her insides felt like they were being torn in different directions, the pain in her ears pushed to the side as she felt the need to throw up. Curling to her side she embraced the silence, her eyes squeezed tightly shut and forcing out built up tears.

This is it. Henry would be obliterated. John would be sad. Her little greenhouse would fall into rotting ruin. And worst of all is that she would die and she was barely 30.

A few seconds went by and she pulled a hand away from her ears, still terrified of what she might find when she opened her eyes. It was still alarmingly quiet and the wetness against her palms would be undeniably red and life altering.

Taking in a deep breath, she mustered up what little courage was left and opened one eye, putting a hand in front of her face. Blood seeped into the creases across her palm. "I'm still alive." she reminded herself, still by both her optimism and her pounding heartbeat. As she rolled over, her blurry gaze focused on the concrete beneath her, the sight of it no more a shock than the events that had just happened.

Where had the desert gone?

A burning sensation rose in her throat, her head swerving to get into posture just as the contents of her stomach ended up on the road. At least now her insides weren't twisted and she knew that most of them were working right.

Right enough to vomit anyway.

A strong gust of air hit the side of her face, drawing her attention up just in time to see a floating car heading straight for her. Most people might have moved, or at least stood up. All Amelia did was stare until everything went black.