Free Manifestations by David M. Henley

say. This is the closest I’ve gotten.’
     
    ‘It really is enormous. Have you ever seen anything that big?’
     
    ‘Nothing living, sir.’
     
    ‘Do you think it is an animal of some sort?’ Pinter asked.
     
    ‘What else can move like that? No plant that I’ve ever seen.’
     
    ‘Yes, but there’s never been an animal that covers a thousand square kilometres before either. How could any one creature be this big? Fly us over the top.’
     
    ‘Sure thing, Colonel.’
     
    They swung up high before levelling out to cruise over the inky landscape. From above, the Colonel could see where the creature sank into the ocean, a clear change from black to turquoise showing its edge. Below the water, the same exploratory tentacles probed about. Feeling?
     
    What sort of thing are you? he asked. The leading theory was that it was an old unrecorded nano-weapon that had somehow been reactivated. It was possible. It had happened before, though not with such spectacular results.
     
    From above, Pinter could see open spaces in the black mass, and every park and tree remained uncoated, creating pockets of green scattered throughout the city.
     
    ‘Nobody mentioned that,’ he said.
     
    ‘What?’
     
    ‘The trees. It’s not touching them.’
     
    Quintan nodded.
     
    Pinter’s mind tried to find comparisons for what he was seeing. It was dark and massive like a lava plain, but seemingly alive and moving a hundred tendrils around like a sea urchin in a rock pool. It was black and sheeny like crude oil, but it could direct its movements and control its form. So far the researchers had turned up very little that it could be compared to.
     
    ‘What would you say that looks like? A sea anemone?’
     
    ‘It reminds me a bit of a snail, at least the tentacles do,’ the pilot answered.
     
    ‘The largest snail in the world is only a metre long, including the shell. How big would you say one of those arms are?’ he asked.
     
    ‘They can get pretty long. I’ve seen them stretch a couple of hundred metres.’
     
    ‘Phenomenal. Take me around the edge of it. Slowly.’
     
    ‘What about the ceremony, sir? I’m getting asked what we’re doing.’
     
    Pinter too had seen inquiries enter his queue. He bounced them for now. ‘Send a message that we will be delayed, all fine, Colonel’s orders.’
     
    ‘As you wish, sir.’
     
    The Colonel was reluctant to land. Landing meant that time really would have gone backward for him and he was once again a Serviceman. He could look in the mirror and see the man he used to be, but inside he was forty-eight years older and had been long retired. His time was done.
     
    His memories felt like bad dreams that made him afraid to fall asleep again. He had left those nightmares decades ago. He had lived another life and now he was being drawn back into the past. He remembered the sweet rot of his men and the smoke of his burning enemies. He saw the teeth and claws of the twisted humans, launching at him like vultures —
     
    ‘Colonel, are you okay? You’ve gone pale,’ Quintan said.
     
    ‘I’m fine.’
     
    ‘Is my flying too bumpy?’
     
    ‘No, no. I just don’t want to land. That’s all.’
     
    ‘Another pass? Straight over the middle?’ Crozier suggested.
     
    ‘No. I shouldn’t. Time to face the music.’
     
    ~ * ~
     
    There actually was music when he landed. A bugler sounded off as he stepped from the squib and a drummer rapped along as he inspected the line of Servicemen standing at attention. His overlay hung names on them and gave bullet-point histories of their careers.
     
    The man in charge was a ginger-haired Lieutenant who was looking down at his clipboard and refreshing the image he had of the Colonel in his files. Pinter’s overlay marked him as Campsey, Lt, James. A lackey of Zim’s who had been borrowed from the General to duplicate the perimeter boundary they had constructed around the Cape.
     
    ‘Lieutenant Campsey?’ Pinter held out