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Whatever Can Go Wrong Will
By Joe Gamer
Copyright © 2016, 2018
Joe Gamer is the Pen Name of Joel Ferguson
Illustrations Copyright © 2016, 2018 Joel Ferguson
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business, companies, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
Paperback Revision
Third Edition
Dedication
Without my three sons; Dylan, James and Jesse's love and encouragement I would not have completed this novel. To my three sons; Thank you for believing in me.
Introduction
Long ago the emergence of a black hole threatened the existence of Centralian civilization. Their leader Galad developed a containment field to delay the black holes growth toward a super massive state.
Intent on achieving intergalactic travel before the inevitable, Galad set out on an ambassador mission to connect with intelligent life in the galaxy. Thousands of years later the ambassador ship heading to earth is bombarded by the entire history of human telecommunication signals.
While monitoring this overlapping stream the communications officer observes a vibrant living planet destroyed by a small mechanical planetoid. Misinterpretations lead to tragedy.
On Earth Joe Gamer is preparing for the chance of a lifetime and marriage proposal to the woman of his dreams. Everything seems to be going his way for a change when whatever can go wrong will.
What Does it all Mean?
Traveling towards Tera the Ambassador ship of the Centralian collective is on schedule and on course. Seated at the monitor terminal Naleg recognizes flashing images on his screen. Tuning in the signal feed to isolate the video and audio overlapping each other. Intrigued by a montage of confusion, unfamiliar with the past century of Teran media advancements Naleg continues to monitor the signal.
A brief audio signal begins clearly, "One small step for man...", all of the audio falls back in on itself and again the audio and video are an odd noise accompanied by a blur of Teran media over nine decades coming in a continuous stream of data. What is man? Is that what they're calling themselves? What does all this mean?
As Naleg attempts to process some sense of what he's seen and heard, another image flashes onscreen. Panning back the screen shows a mechanical planet destroying another planet in a massive energy blast. Awestruck Naleg mutters one word, "Shivak." Immediately Bahneg and Soleg are at his side, drawn to his hushed mention of a myth.
Already passed that short moment of clarity all that is visible on screen are the combined images from the past nine decades of audio and telecommunications. "Why did you say Shivak?" Bahneg and Soleg asked at the same time in hushed voices.
Panicked Naleg says, "I saw the destroyer!" Bahneg scoffs, "Impossible that's only a myth." "Show me." says Soleg. Adjusting the odd dial controls to the movement before the destruction Naleg says, "Watch this."
On screen a smaller mechanical planet orbits a vibrant resourceful planet, amazed by the sight of a mechanical planet the three communication officers watch in horror as the beautiful planet is obliterated by an energy beam.
"Bahneg to Emak!" What now, constant irritation of command calls to Emak. "Awaiting report." Nervous, somewhat frightened Bahneg stammers as he responds, "Visual, on Shivak, Emak!" Emak scoffs, inconceivable, they must have witnessed a supernova pulsing.
"Have you confirmed?" In unison they all say, "Emak, you must see these transmissions, they are, well, confusing." One problem with a civilization where everyone is dutiful to their station, no one thinks for themselves.
Seeing Emak's expression worries Naleg as he wonders, will he be assigned more efficiency training. Soleg relieved to be a witness to this while Bahneg second guesses his reaction to call for Emak's attention.
Intrigued at how unnerved his communication officers are over this transmission, perhaps this will be interesting, Emak replies, "Relay transmission."
A few seconds pass as Bahneg establishes the relay to Emak's private terminal, providing the timing for viewing the moment of destruction Bahneg reports.
"At sixteen seconds a short clear audio transmission terminates. At nineteen seconds an audio visual transmission displays what appears to be the Shivak."
Seeing and hearing this mix of radio and television broadcasts from Earth, Emak is intrigued by what he sees. Completely absorbed from the moment the transmission begins. Watching Emak reviews the transmission as the clear audio signal passes, "One small step for man..."
a few seconds later a mechanical planet orbits a larger planet, moments later the larger planet is obliterated by a powerful energy beam. Emak ends the playback, alone in his chambers viewing the impossible mixed amid mass confusion throughout the transmission.
A feeling of irritation eases, finally something worth my time, Emak thinks to himself relieved the monotony of his mission has finally come to an end. "I will analyze this segment, acceptable performance Bahneg, positive marks pending evaluation. Continue to record transmissions from the Teranus system. Emak communication over."
On the communications deck Bahneg, Soleg and Naleg are all relieved at Emak's positive response, already distracted from what caused alarm by the anticipation of praise. Expressed day dreams of advancement are traded back and forth before each of the communications officers return to their regular duties like obedient drones.
In his quarters Emak begins to analyze the events he has just witnessed. For thousands of years the Centralian civilization has maintained and cultivated the outer solar systems. Eons spent as the only civilization to posses celestial travel in this galaxy with no signs of advancement to suggest any others have achieved celestial travel. Pondering these messages Emak wonders how is it possible for Terans to surpass Centralian technology in a century, impossible yet it seems that its happened?
How can this be? On the last cycle Teran's had barely begun to tangibly advance their technology. Centuries of anticipating the moment Terans finally join Centralian civilization in building this galaxy. Why if they have surpassed us in technology would they destroy an entire planet?
Have the descendants of my mother become even more destructive, this goes against logic that as a civilization advances the need for aggressive action is replaced with direct control over environment. As Emak's mind cycles through concepts a cerebral pressure strikes him without warning.
Crumpling to the floor like a marionette puppet with no master. even the dimmed lights stab at Emak needling him with a sensation of anguish Emak has never been able to ignore. "Illumination off." Daggers subsiding to a rhythmic pounding as Emak rubs his neck and temples laying back on his resting pad, time lingers.
The relief from pain brings Emak a moment of still thought as he realizes a multitude of signals are intermixed within the transmission. Returning to the seat in front of the communication terminal Emak begins the long process of trying to make sense of what has been found. One detail more puzzling than witnessing Shivak, why has it taken this long to receive these signals. We should have been able to observe Teran communications decades ago, has something been blocking Teran communications?
"Emak to Bahneg." Hailing the communication officer, Bahneg replies immediately. "Awaiting instructions." "Are any other signal transmissions observed in the outer rim planets?" "Negative."
Emak quickly poses another question after Bahneg's rapid reply, "Any foreign celestial communications observed?" "Negative." Pondering Bahneg's answers this is not possible, it is conceivable that the Teranus system may be contacted by a foreign celestial society, yet that has always been dismissed before because of the time needed for travel.
"Inverse communications sweeps, scan alternate signal bands, isolate, track and record all incoming and outgoing transmissions from the Teranus system."
"Affirmative, any further instructions Emak?" Bahneg always aware some mundane detail could be overlooked. "Has been destroyed in the Teranus system?""Negative." Relieved he had nothing to report Bahneg awaits any further relay of duties.
Caught in a moment of thought Emak tries to make sense of nonsense, no outside celestial threat, no planets destroyed, but clearly he saw a small metal planet destroy another planet. What can this mean, did they destroy a planet in another galaxy?
How can the Terans achieved trans-galactic travel before Centralus? With some delay Bahneg replies again, "Are there any further instructions Emak?" Momentarily caught off guard Emak replies, "Assign Naleg and Soleg to isolate incoming transmissions and alert me of any status change immediately."
"Affirmative Emak." Returning to work Bahneg assigns Naleg and Soleg their tasks and begins to invert the communication sweep pattern and alternate the signal bands to determine where, why and who are transmitting these communications.
Billions and Billions of Signals
Awaiting a change in status, pacing as he considers potential outcomes, another civilization must be working with the Terans. How, have no communications been observed, only now are communications being observed from outside Centralus, originating from Teranus. None of this makes any sense, Centralian society fosters all advancement in the galaxy, no communications have ever been observed outside this galaxy, yet the Terans have advanced beyond Centralian society?
Impatience drives Emak to exit the comfort of his personal quarters eager for the moment more information is available. During the short time walking questions are evaluated, putting aside questions unlikely to produce useful answers.
By the time Emak reaches the communication deck a list of questions are on his mind, sequenced for maximum efficiency. "Bahneg, what progress has been achieved?" The moment Emak reaches the communication deck he begins demanding answers. Taken off guard Bahneg stammers as he answers.
"Um, yes Emak, we have inversed the communications sweeps, Soleg is scanning alternate signal bands while Naleg is isolating signals according to their frequencies." Turning from his monitor Soleg says to Emak, "I am tracking and recording all incoming and outgoing transmissions from the Teranus system as instructed."
Soleg turns towards Emak and says, "I have isolated signals coming from the Teranus system however I still have not observed foreign transmissions."
Naleg and Soleg return to their task while Emak and Bahneg discuss the limited findings in the short time between receiving orders and Emak's unexpected arrival. "Have you determined which planet has been destroyed yet?" Bahneg simply replies, "No."
Anxious for answers Emak asks, "When do you anticipate having something to report?" Soleg turns to report, "Emak, I have completed establishing the alternate signal sweep, the system will report before each signal alteration."
Addressing Naleg Emak says, "When do you anticipate signal isolation will provide observable records?" How to answer, still sifting through his confusion Naleg desperately thinks about the best answer to Emak's question. "I have identified over a billion transmissions spanning the entire past century. I'm having difficulty isolating them because of all the duplicated transmissions, multiple signal variations transmitting the same data, some of the signals are audio only while others are video and audio."
Emak notices one unique trait about the transmissions, they were all received simultaneously, as if all Teran communications were intentionally attenuated to bypass normal communications detection. "Bahneg, are any celestial activities coinciding with observance of Teran communication transmissions?"
"Analyzing celestial activity Emak... it appears a small solar anomaly coincides with Teran communication transmissions." Somewhat stunned both realize that the Teran's have intentionally withheld communication with Centralus. Every answer leads to more questions, why would they withhold contact?
How would they develop communications methods that avoid detection and why hide from us? Who are these Terans communicating, what have they shared, what are they planning, should I notify Galad?
Thinking to himself Emak wishes he already understood what all these messages meant, who they're intended for and why. "Bahneg, analyzing the Teranus communications is top priority. All monitor officers are to assist leads Naleg and Soleg in isolating Teranus communications."
Bahneg replies eagerly, "Affirmative Emak, any further instructions?" This is it, this is the chance to advance that Bahneg had been waiting for, after eight hundred years in communications he craved something, anything different from the dead silence of space.
Bahneg had not sat at a communications monitor in over a hundred years still watching over others watching monitors held little interest. The familiar feeling of emptiness tugging always demanding attention. In haste Emak begins to leave the communications deck without responding. "Alert me when progress has been made." I must remember to advance Bahneg his consistence and thorough attention to detail is a great asset. Perhaps in time he will be one of the few capable of solving problems without direct orders. These passive thoughts a temporary distraction from Emak's irritating need for sustenance. Even in thinking to himself Emak still holds more to his father's structured path indifferent to his mothers random sensibilities of 'feelings'. Why his father chose to bond to a Teran woman to understand them always seemed strange.
Emak's father's unique gift to devise solutions through random creative methods is the reason Galad was chosen as leader of Centralus. Returning to his personal quarters Emak handles his needs in his typical procedural manner, contemplating plausible reasoning for Teran actions.
Thinking about how to understand the Teran's, Emak's aware the subconscious part of his hybrid mind is particularly gifted at determining abstract solutions. Emak decides to make a conscious intrusion into his own subconscious during his resting period in order to pursue answers to his questions.
Being open to the power of his mind Emak had always been aware of his father's plan to build a council of worlds. Until now no one believed any of the outer rim planets would become developed enough for thousands of years.
Strange how time passes you by in the blink of an eye the ones you thought would never catch up are now ahead. They must have had help, is it possible other galaxies have sentient life with even more advanced capabilities Centralian civilization has yet to achieve?
Perhaps after our last visit observing the Terans some foreign entity has observed our activities and made contact with the Terans. This must be what has propelled the Terans ahead, but why would they avoid contact with us?
Whoever they are what is clear is that contact has been obscured, do they intend to collect the Terans as a labor source? Does this foreign entity posses the Shivak, yes that must be it.
It's improbable for the Terans to excel beyond Centralus. Terans are using foreign advanced technology, transmitting and likely receiving communications in a scrambled feed on parameters that avoid normal detection modes. Awakening Emak turns to his bedside stand retrieving his record pad to record new theories. Beginning his list as so many do:
• Communication has been purposefully obscured
• A weapon of mass destruction has been developed
• A foreign galactic civilization has been working with the Terans
Working on his theories Emak contemplates further, this foreign civilization has made contact with the Terans, provided many technologies, for what purpose? Could Teranus be this foreign civilizations closest access point to this galaxy?
Is cooperation with the Terans an effort to subvert Centralian influence? Do they intend to launch a war or force Centralus to submit to superior destructive capabilities. Will they make contact with Centralian leadership once the Shivak is ready for another display?
The Terans are clearly part of a larger control scheme... "Emak to Bahneg" Hailing the communication officer, Bahneg's reply is immediate. "Awaiting instructions." "Do you have anything to report?" "Not yet, however we have just completed scanning of the interior galaxy to determine which planet was destroyed." Finally something to help explain these signals, holding back his eagerness Emak responds to Bahneg, "What have you determined upon completion?" Nervous Bahneg does not know what has gone wrong with the scan but nothing has changed.
"Um, Emak, it appears that, um, no planet in our galaxy has been destroyed." With this news it would appear that the planetary destruction has occurred elsewhere, but why would the Terans be transmitting this?
Perhaps this civilization has used the Terans as a relay location for communications originating in yet another galaxy. Frustrated, each discovery only brings more questions, Emak replies to Bahneg, "Alert me when more information is known."
Following Procedures
Across the galaxy in Galad's personal living quarters a melancholy thought crosses his mind, how can Emak be so satisfied with the procedural guidelines? I was certain creating a progeny with a Teran woman would produce a creative intellectual mind. He showed such prospective talent in the Academy. Curriculum scheduled for a millennia Emak had completed in only two thirds the time.
Still it has been nearly two millennia with minimal success. Worse he appears to be disinterested in any system other than his mother's home Teranus. While it is obvious he desires his mothers species to achieve contact first, every report on Teranus is detailed with a thorough expectation on progression.
Ah but anywhere else no effort is shown. If some progress is not evident soon I will have to consult with the council on determining to recall Emak or maintain standard operating procedure.
At the same time Galad contemplates the shortcomings of this project to establish a galactic council of planets in this galaxy, Emak contemplates contacting his father and the Centralian council. With so little information to present its too early to make a good choice?
"Bahneg to Emak." Finally some advancement in analysis, "You may report, Bahneg." "Affirmative. First we have encountered an anomaly in scanning beyond the galaxy. Second we have isolated multiple transmission types exiting the Teranus system, observed and deflected by an unidentifiable satellite orbiting planet Tera itself."
Confirmation that something from another civilization has interfered with monitoring this information brings reason to calculate ulterior motives. "Exceptional Bahneg, do you have anything further to report?"
"Affirmative, after identifying a foreign satellite exists I set inspection parameters which are in calculation now, results and further classification of message and signal type are pending calculation completion."
Excellent news, soon I may find answers. "Bahneg, I'm coming to the communications bridge, I'll expect a report on analysis upon arrival." "Affirmative." This is exhausting, first Emak demands as soon as information is available he is notified, once I do notify him he wants a report upon arrival. Think Bahneg... Already at work on preparing a report Bahneg gains the attention of his senior communications officers Naleg and Soleg.
"Naleg, isolate audio and video transmissions sent in galactic common. Soleg, maintain attention on analysis of the foreign satellite, determine how signals are being blocked and or redirected." "Affirmative."
Preparations for analysis are expected, the consequences of failure to perform duties are not received well. Working with haste each officer making ready a report on an individual task.
Bahneg sits silent, preparing with his best effort the report. Traveling at a brisk pace from his personal quarters Emak considers this information, already working to discover the truth hidden in the confusion.
A foreign satellite confirms contact with an outside civilization capable of intergalactic travel, likely to predate Centralian civilization. The image of a planet being destroyed may be an intimidation tactic, we know it must have been carried out in a different galaxy.
What we don't know yet is why , who, when. I must have clear transmissions from the Terans to make sense of this, I can't disappoint my father with incomplete analyzed nonsense. He's already becoming unsatisfied with my progress reports for the outer planets.
I have only ever desired his approval yet in this I have failed to bond with my mother in a manner that would further my intuitive nature. In retrospect I recognize his intent yet I still hold to the rational procedural societal guidelines established in Centralian civilization.
What's missing? Is it merely information yet to be set apart or has something else missed my initial analysis? Nearing the communications bridge Emak used the remainder of the travel time to clear his mind to focus on information without bias.
On the communications bridge Naleg has made progress with his report information, finalizing this while Soleg continues analysis of the foreign satellite with only an image of a large black seed shaped object. Bahneg sits silent fingers flying preparing as comprehensive of a report as possible, noting; multiple transmission formats exist, transmitted in multiple languages including galactic common. This information is transmitted from Tera both as audio only as well as audio combined with video. Only outgoing communication observed at this time.
Making his final preparations for this report Bahneg looks forward to receiving a post with greater authority. Entering the communication bridge Emak is immediately greeted by Soleg and Naleg while Bahneg presents a data tablet with the prepared overall report.
Examining the report Emak notices a seed shaped black satellite orbiting Tera is absorbing transmissions and redirecting them somewhere. Before Emak is completely finished reviewing the report Soleg's analysis has produced more relevant information. Emak aware Soleg's analysis has concluded, all eyes are on Soleg as he relays the analysis results.
"The black satellite in orbit over Tera has been deflecting communication transmissions. No communication transmissions are observed coming from the point of deflection. Multiple frequency modulation and dissemination patterns are in place however we have decrypted these patterns and are now able to fully isolate all transmissions from the Terans."
Eager to begin observed analysis of the Teran communications Emak proclaims, "Exceptional progress, maintain observation of the black satellite, continue to monitor for transmissions sent from the foreign observers, transmit audio only galactic common transmissions to my personal quarters observation terminal."
"Affirmative, do you have any further requests, Emak?" Bahneg relieved by the positive demeanor of his commander, he patiently requests any other needed directions. "No further requests Bahneg, exceptional work. I have yet to obtain sustenance. I will review Teran communications while I see to my needs."
Without further discussion everyone returns to following procedures established thousands of years ago before this more recent and relevant information was even available. In the minds of everyone holding this information a longing for something beyond what is next on the checklist. Held behind the desire for a sense of security keeping them in line.
Digestive system making a clear alert that fuel is necessary, Emak returns to his personal quarters to eat. Irritated at his physiological needs, while full Centralian has little need material sustenance as a hybrid Emak must refuel regularly. Of course all Centralian society was astonished that Teran physiology would be capable of hybridization, with such limitations it was unlikely the experiment would work.
Over two thousand years later Emak shows typical Centralian maturation. Despite protest by the galactic council Galad obtained an exceptional member of Teran civilization out of an enlightened chosen contact group. This contact group was provided an isolated planet ready to build another utopian mountain city.
With so many experimental variations physiological survival instincts dictate each variation will approach advancement with different tendencies. Spirals spinning behind his eyes, fractal patterns of light sparkling like the coils of a thrust chamber. Stabbing pains heighten as Emak lets out a scream of pain a moment before he collapses, tumbling down hitting the back of his head on the floor Emak loses connection with consciousness.
Lying on the floor drifting through sub consciousness images move in and out of each other like paisley snakes coiling intertwined between each other, each snake a unique entity. A visitor in his own mind this surreal intrusive glimpse pans back revealing the scene as a whole and at light speed zooms in to an individual snakes head.
Eyes glowing revealing the pattern of a strange being crossing a small room, stumbling over a small box no person should have reason to fall over. Tumbling, falling into the small black point emerging from a dark corner in the box, Emak emerges within a space absent light ahead & a thousand points of light behind, casting a sinister shadow on the unknown.
Crossing his inner vision odd shapes float through space, the tools and trinkets of some primitive variation of Teran civilization. A sun dial is passed by an hourglass emerging through the face of a simple clock, yet the clock does not function as it should. Both dials traveling in opposite directions followed by blinding light bursts as they collide.
Confusion in this surreal reality within Emak's growing obsession with deciphering the riddles of the Teran communications. Unknown to Emak the audio transmissions have been playing in random order during his unconscious stupor. The odd coincidence the audio playback would begin the same moment Emak looses consciousness providing insight into the solution, lost as the subconscious is influenced by the unique messages and strange patterns in the music.
Kaleidoscope visions of another world continue churning, demanding understanding, some voices clear others muffled by the sounds of echo's from another time and place. Drifting away like helium balloons, trailing words lost in the time between the waking life and his dreams.
Returning to an alert state after sitting up Emak reaches back with one hand to the back of his head. Although it feels odd and should hurt something is different, in the background the radio broadcast bleats out the harmonious chime, "R.K.O. Radio." Taking notice of the broadcast Emak gets up and returns to following procedure, "Stop.", something's missing. Emak sensing something is different yet still not aware that nothing will ever be the same, his mind no longer feeling stabbing pains.
Somehow after the fall he feels a different sensation, something like an itch you can't scratch but not quite the same. While exploring this sensation the background analysis of information transferred while unconscious gives Emak an emotional response.
Did he somehow unlock the intuitive resources his father was so certain he possessed within his hybrid physiology? Emak felt the black satellite confirmed evidence of Teran threat, contact imminent. Restraining from contacting Centralian command Emak's mind wanders.
Of course Galad would be interested in this black satellite as it confirms his theories. Is the black seed shaped satellite capable of shifting shape to become the Shivak, are the Terans in danger, did they create this communication scrambling satellite in order to comply with the directives of some other foreign civilization?
Again more questions, until I look into this I will just keep speculating without solid evidence, thinking to himself Emak realizes analysis is far from finished. "Emak to open communication with Navigation Commander Turak." On the navigation deck Commander Turak is surprised to hear from Emak, "Turak ready." "Projected time until arrival in the Teranus system?" Glancing over to the counter the distance from present location to programmed location reads, " 174 hours 42 minutes."
Of course the programmed location is not Tera but a location approximately .01AU away from the 2nd planets orbit comfortably between Venus and Tera. Both Turak and Emak are aware that the originally programmed location is an optimal observation location, currently uninhabited the planet provides a number of resources, making it unnecessary to draw off of Tera during observation.
As an expert in navigation Emak considers this and decides to make a change. "Turak, change destination location from present location to before the asteroid field between Mars and Jupiter." Quick to respond as Turak is eager to please. "Affirmative. Any further instructions Emak?" "Relay altered course schedule." Anticipating this request Turak relays the parameters as they appear on his monitor, "133 hours 36 minutes."
Before Turak requests further directions Emak replies, "Alert me at regular intervals." Following procedures Turak wonders how much longer this tedious post will continue, unaware that everything will change soon. "Affirmative Emak, do you have any further directions at this time?"
Questions, questions, questions, how much time is wasted by everyone asking me if I have any further directions at this time? "No further direction at this time." This is how much time I have to determine the unknown details and transmit my findings to Galad and the galactic council. Monitoring only signals through simply listening is too time consuming.
Progress is essential to high performance. Still over thinking the situation Emak begins analyzing patterns in these transmissions. One analysis leading to another which leads to more. Attempting to find how patterns fit together, still not aware that the millions of transmissions were never intended to fit together. The more Emak tries to connect everything together the more unique patterns emerge. Strange patterns of spoken word with music and even including odd electronic tones further confuse the details. Bahneg continues preparing overall report status for the inevitable request from Emak, without a thought, no effort to think beyond the direct order. Soleg is not as content while he endeavors to decode the black satellite and determine the full purpose.
Naleg sits bored with no personal interest in anything. Longing for an end to the monotony yet unable to make change in the system as it is, powerless as only one individual in the massive process established thousands of years ago. Across the galaxy alone Galad muses on his disappointment. A hybrid leader should have produced sufficient results to inspire the need to work together. Why is he still content to follow Galactic Council procedures?
Breakthrough
"Bahneg to Emak." Eager for any clues to this puzzle, Emak replies instantly. "Affirmative, relay report." "Naleg has completed a separation of audio video communications transmitted in galactic common isolating and filtering out duplicate signal interference and isolated into chronological order from individual signal origin point. Soleg has identified the frequency of intermittent incoming communications to the black satellite, identifying the source location of signals transmitted to the Terans."
"Exceptional, relay report data to my personal communication terminal." Expecting Emak would want to inspect reports in person again Bahneg is somewhat confused at this change. "Affirmative Emak, any further directions at this time?"
"Continue to analyze communications to prepare final report to the galactic council." Bahneg aware that a finalized message to the galactic council must be prepared he begins filling in the information relay form, another journey through tedium.
In his personal quarters Emak begins viewing the audio video transmissions presented in chronological order, isolated by origin source location. In reality all this effort done aboard the Ambassador Ship has achieved is to create a combined source of all Teran Television and Radio broadcasts from individual channel in chronological order. In essence this series of transmissions like a condensed Library of Congress cable box with a thousand channels and hundreds of thousands of hours in content.
Aside from this collection of all Teran Television and Radio communication a select few messages transmitted to the black satellite, when analyzed these communications signify that a control scheme is already in place. The sole purpose for this appears to be preparing the Teran civilization for mass abduction as a labor source.
This comes as little surprise to Emak, after all this is basically the same plan Galad established thousands of years ago. If another civilization is working with the Terans perhaps the messages sent back have a prioritization indicator. Emak begins working with the data patterns on his pad while Bahneg, Soleg and Naleg work to complete their tasks with hopes that soon they will be presented advancement.
Across the galaxy Galad continues progress towards the Star Drive project. Time is relative to individual perception, the more results are desired the more each second stretches to maintain the solutions mystery. Walking into the testing laboratory Galad ponders. Was I wrong to choose Emak as my successor as Emissary to the outer planets?
Making note to reevaluate priorities after testing his newest project is completed, perhaps a visit to Teranus would be a welcome surprise. Maybe together there would finally be an opportunity for Teranus to become the first outpost to advance toward council status.
Hours pass unnoticed as each person continues analysis preparing to regurgitate the results. One by one something does emerge, Emak's analysis parameters are finally met as he sits down to view his results. On screen an image of open space fades to reveal an incredibly advanced traveling star ship. A report is narrated with one simple statement creating an amazing impact on Emak.
"To boldly go...", instantly mesmerized in rapt attention still unaware he's observing Teran entertainment. Emak hangs on every word intent on discovering more information. Dozens of hours of watching one tangent of Teran entertainment has Emak obsessed.
Believing that the Terans have been communicated with by an advanced foreign civilization brings on a negative emotion Emak has never experienced. Jealousy, why contact the Terans first when Centralian civilization is so much more advanced? Seeing Terans traveling among the stars relaying such unique progress reports creates a desire for something greater. Another alert comes in from Commander Turak.
"Emak, approximately 100 hours zero minutes until desired location is reached." "Affirmative Turak, maintain report schedule." Attempting to hide his surprise at the interruption Emak returns to his analysis of the report Star Trek. Convinced he has found the Teran report to the foreign civilization, determining motives becomes his next focus.
During the next thirty-three hours before he will be interrupted Emak completes his analysis of this report and begins logging his notes on his findings. Based on the findings, numerous foreign civilizations are vying for control of the entire universe. We are not alone, intergalactic travel is a reality among many civilizations that are likely to have a million years or more advancement over Centralus.
The most curious piece of data is that the Terans made first contact with distant galactic civilization. This may be because the civilization controlling the black relay satellite has been relaying information to make determination when to initiate contact with Centralus.
It does not appear that these foreign controllers are hostile as they have propelled Teran civilization ahead of Centralian, just imagine what they could do to advance civilization. No viewing of the Shivak has been confirmed yet, perhaps in all the scrambled transmissions this image was due to collusion of image data therefore not evident when analysis is complete.
Further inspection has shown other "Captains Logs" are detected with a long intermittent period. Further analysis of the first series of logs shows that hostile foreign civilizations do exist. A galactic federation of planets has been working with the Terans in order to mitigate hostile impact and attempt to resolve conflicts with minimal disturbance.
Frequent minor conflicts arise and are resolved in a short period of time ending in a mostly positive result. End notes. Immediately after completing the first series of "Captains Logs", Emak begins to view the next series. Watching astonished at the rapid advancement from one series of logs to the next.
According to the time line these transmissions were two decades apart and this second set of logs already show rapid advancement in all areas of planetary control. Amazing how fast these Terans have developed with direct assistance from an advanced civilization. Binge watching Teran television Emak still unaware he's watching entertainment something different catches his attention.
A large block shaped craft similar to the one seen before that started this entire mad dash to decipher Teran communications. Watching eyes wide this may be a key piece of information, although temporarily a great threat eventually this foe is overcome and the Captain is retrieved to perform his log duties at the relief of Emak, thinking, this Galactic Federation of Planets is quite powerful.
As time marches forward Emak's obsession ignores all outside thoughts completely focused on presenting an accurate and complete report. "Emak, approximately sixty-seven hours zero minutes until desired location is reached." "Affirmative Turak, maintain report schedule."
Without rest normal Centralian's are fine however Emak is not fine. His color begins to look dim, while his speech becomes a slow drawl, after responding to Commander Turak he staggers to his resting pad to rest. Drifting towards a peaceful diversion Emak recalls the lives of Terans filled with conflict. Eyes close and mind opened, creating connections in time and space.
Emak's mixed neurology forming synapses, pushing one aspect of the mind through an endless hallway each open to a different world of memories. Shutting down connections with consciousness Emak's control of his mind is seized by the intuitive minds efforts to decode the strange.
Having rested for only a few hours Emak is awoken to the signal of a report pending his approval. Raising from the resting pad Emak opens the alert and reviews the report signing off at the end his approval moving on from Naleg's report to Soleg's report on the black seed satellite. Viewing the report Emak notes that no hostile action within the Milky Way Galaxy has been committed therefore the likeliness of conflict is quite low.
Further examination of Soleg's report and Bahneg's overall report provide only mundane information. Still weary from waking Emak evaluates the situation as it is, mulling over known and unknown data he reaches the conclusion that it is time to prepare his report to his father Galad and the galactic council.
Regurgitating point after point the detailed report transmitted in short says; other advanced civilizations exist, they have advance travel and communications, they're working with the Terans to establish suitable outpost locations throughout the universe. In an effort to unify the advanced civilizations within the galaxy in defense against another foreign advanced civilization which intends to harvest all materials throughout the universe.
Advised response to make contact with the Teran leadership in contact with the foreign advanced civilization in order to advance Centralian goals towards a Galactic Council of Advanced Planets. It is clear that at this time Teran civilization has established a mutually beneficial relationship with a civilization from the Sagittarius galaxy.
I request Galad join the Ambassador Ship in establishing contact between Tera, Centralus and the recently communicating Sagittarians. End report. Begin Transmission. Near the center of the galaxy Galad and the Galactic Council have completed the latest test of the Star Drive engine, awaiting test results they receive a message from the Ambassador Ship.
All are gathered as the main message screen displays the overall message along with a select clip of observed Teran communications transmitted to Sagittarius. On individual data pads they receive the various reports to accompany the visual report, each with its own touch indicator to open and expand the document.
At the end the request for Galad to meet with the Terans directly becomes the topic of discussion for about ten minutes as the twelve members of the galactic council come to agreement that this information is quite well timed with the relevant advancement of intergalactic travel.
One by one each council member presents their individual perspective which reinforces the decision to establish contact with the Teran Ambassadors to the Sagittarian Galactic Council. Adding to this the results from the most recent Star Drive engine analysis have concluded to show a 99.99991 percent positive success potential, physical testing recommended.
With the decision decided Galad announces his intentions to prepare for travel to the Teranus system, proudly declaring Centarus finally has achieved the goal of intergalactic contact. Galad begins preparing for the first physical test of the Star Drive engine. Only a few hours later the ship is ready, Galad is ready and on the other side of the galaxy Emak has just realized these signals are all just entertainment.
Furious Emak scans over these contradictory messages, impossible to believe that the Terans are the originators of this technological advancements. Enraged his hundred plus hours of analysis wasted watching some fantasy created for the Terans amusement?
Discovering the Terans real advancements are obscured by some advanced foreign civilization from the Sagittarius systems black seed satellite, Emak is upset that he has already sent message to his father. With no real knowledge of their plans his analysis points towards his initial fears, what is to happen if his father makes contact only to bring conflict or worse.
Thoughts cross his mind, with advance knowledge I could make a move to control the galaxy and make contact with the Sagittarians myself, but how? With the clock winding down Emak is alerted by Commander Turak, "Emak, we have emerged into the Teranus system at thirty-four hours before the designated coordinates."
With time running short the pressure of responsibility heavy on Emak's mind, he accepts the report. "Affirmative Turak, maintain report schedule." Already thrown off by this revelation, time winding down to an embarrassment shaming him to some lesser post, already isolated for two millennia, what could be worse?
Alerted again, this time that his father and the galactic council have received his report and evaluated it. Panic rises as Emak watches his father beaming with positive energy. "Though it has come at an unexpected time it is quite fortunate that contact with neighboring galaxies is now achievable. It brings me great satisfaction to announce to you that the Star Drive has been completed and I will be with you soon. Expected travel time approximately twenty two hours. I will make initial contact with the Terans and establish contact with the Sagittarians."
"It brings me great pride to view my theories come to fruition. I knew you were an ideal galactic ambassador to the outer planets. I greatly anticipate introduction to the Sagittarians through the Terans knowing my proposed course of advancement for the Terans would assuredly show Tera as the first outlying civilization to advance."
This droning self aggrandizing message fades to the paranoia Emak faces for the first time, his mind racing, in only twenty two hours his father will be at Tera quickly Galad will realize his sons failure and premature request.
Fear giving way to anger as Emak begins to mutter to himself, him, him, him its always about him, what he's done, what he's calculated, what he's achieved. Even his own birth was for him, everything for him who has saved the galaxy from destruction.
Constantly reminded, even the term we use for Galaxy is derived from his name. As if everyone and everything should bow to his intent. Galad the perfect, if he was so perfect how did he create a miserable failure such as me? I can't believe I sent that message too soon, why didn't I wait? I could have simply waited until I was able to observe the Terans directly, at least then my report wouldn't be saying that the Terans have advanced beyond Centralian civilization with the help of some civilization from the Sagittarius Galaxy.
What to do, think Emak. All his work up to this point about to be shown defective in his haste to report positive news to impress his father. The last part of the message catching his attention, clearing his mind of distractions Emak listens to what follows.
"... as physical testing of the Star Drive engine begins I am eager break on through this barrier to faster than light direct trajectory travel and rejoin you in my vision for a unified galaxy."
Again, even his last message is about him, how he be "Perfect" yet be so self absorbed? With no real direction Emak delves into depression from his sense of impending failure from one mistake. Still focused on the analysis of Teran entertainment, now believing that it's all meaningless simply to enjoy he chooses an audio only transmission.
Sounds from the past play in the present as Emak tries to disconnect from these odd feelings in order to develop a plan, hearing this Teran music for the first time his understanding still clouded by preconceptions that they are simply for entertainment, without meaning, returning to the resting pad to contemplate while Teran entertainment plays in the background. "... other side, Yeah!"
Intergalactic Planetary Discovery
Minutes into resting, while listening to the Teran music a great sense of panic overwhelms him to awaken and contemplate a course of action. Pacing in his personal quarters withholding the urge to panic. Now his father arriving to Tera in less than twenty hours.
Emak orders Turak to alert him of his father's arrival on Tera. Afterwards he contacts Bahneg and orders private relay of any communications sent by Galad. In a form of stasis on board the Star Drive ship Galad lies in a semi-dream state awaiting the sight of a coexisting civilization advanced in knowledge perhaps a million years ahead of Centralian development.
Meanwhile on Earth the area fifty-one observation array, already scanning, shifts one degree on schedule right into position to observe Emak's ship enter our solar system. Traveling at incredible speed the foreign object is only observed for a fraction of a second before it moves beyond the arrays field of view.
At the active display matrix Dr. Hammond observes something traveling at incredible speed. Immediately beginning a data observation recording for analysis Dr. Hammond contacts General Raethcroam's secretary to alert proper channels that an object travelling at near light speed has entered our solar system.
Quick to accept the incoming call Jeanie answers Dr. Hammonds call, "General Raethcroam's office, Jeanie speaking, how may I help you Dr. Hammond?" "Oh, ok well established parameters dictate in the event a foreign entity enters our solar system..." already bored with whatever Dr. Hammond's saying until the words; traveling near light speed. Based on established parameters Jean hands the phone to Doug.
Grabbing the phone immediately Doug interrupts Dr. Hammond, "Greg, hold on just a moment." holding the phone away from his ear for a moment, "Jeanie you can return to the front desk for now." With a wink shared between them Jeanie sachet's out the door pausing for a glance and a smile at the door, straight out of some fifty's movie. "Ok Greg, go ahead but spare me the nerd jargon."
Sitting at the active display matrix Gregory is irritated by the comment to spare Douglas the "nerd jargon". "UFO come, fast as light, into earth space, ooga booga!" While Gregory is a respected professional everyone has their own trigger, "Funny Greg, so is it a natural object or an alien? Is this a rogue asteroid, planetoid or are some new friends entering the neighborhood?"
Gregory rephrases his statement. "Present analysis does not differentiate between what type of object has entered the solar system. The object is traveling at near light speed, emerging from between the asteroid belt and Jupiter." Doug already worried about what he's heard says, "When will we know what it is, and where it's going?"
Dementia or adult ADD kicking in Doug thinks to himself, what the fuck happened, we used to be friends now Greg's being a dick and calling me Douglas, "Greg, drop the Douglas shit, it's me bro!" "Ok Doug, I'll be able to read back the mineral composition within the hour."
Already aware of set guidelines if an object is observed blah blah blah. Shit I have to call the Secretary of Defense. "Ok, let me know as soon as you have a some details. And Greg, we gotta go to Vegas this weekend, blow off some steam bro!"
Thinking to himself Dr. Hammond withholds from voicing out loud, I have been working quite diligently. "Sure Doug, we can see a cabaret." Seriously a cabaret? Greg's been spending too much time alone, "Ok, later."
Around the world everyone's day continues like any other day while Jeanie connects a secure line with the Secretary of Defense's secretary. Exhausted despite being troubled by his recent mistake Emak can pace no longer, collapsing on the resting pad his natural hybrid functions overtake him.
Asleep for the next ten hours while Teran music continues to play in the unique programmed playback set up by Naleg not a single transmission is duplicated, no commercial interruptions are included, as an intergalactic DJ Naleg has performed the collected set of playlists any DJ on earth would be envious of, not to mention his work on isolating video signals.
All that time working on the signals Naleg doing his best to create the most efficient playback signals as individual continuous channels. Curious that he hasn't observed anything directly since the first signals came in. Naleg opens a channel to view one of the Teran communication transmissions, for himself.
Observing the very first transmission in monochrome with an elder Teran male speaking a garbled variation of galactic common is a strange image to say the least, yet the meter in which these obviously primitive "people" speak is quite monotonous. Increasing the playback speed Naleg continues to observe until something catches his attention.
Slowing the playback speed to normal to watch an image of a Teran male and female rotating in rhythm, dancing catches his attention as he begins binge watching everything he can over the next several hours until he is given some other mundane command. Musing on this thing called dance Naleg notices that something called music is also part of this dancing.
With uncanny ability to process information Naleg absorbs everything. Finally awake and aware time draws near Emak's dreams of destruction and intergalactic planetary domination put him as the one individual capable of dominating all into joining force to destroy the Shivak.
Delusions of grandeur brought on by strange influences and confused emotions have Emak developing plans to take his father's place, first how to take control from his father, second collect Teran labor resources, third establish contact with the Sagittarians to establish ongoing communications. Having broken some barrier between logic and morals, a lack of sleep brought on by binge watching has led Emak to some mental snap.
Taking on villainous behavior traits viewed on Earth TV. Emak considers his resources aboard the Galactic Ambassador ship, with no need of a weapon in the past some creative spark is needed to utilize some tool or other implement.
Emak ponders over quite a great deal of inspiration provided by Earth TV. Our magnetic galactic debris field, what if it were tuned to hold debris around the ship? Yes, hold the debris around the ship to disguise our presence, or even better, build up the kinetic energy of the field to divert it towards the Terans, no one onboard our Ambassador ship will even know, no one on Centralus will know.
I can order survivors retrieved, with all the devastation and confusion the Terans will have no choice but to board and accept their next assignment. This is perfect, "Turak, how close are we from Tera behind the asteroid field?" A brief moment lingers as the communication system creates a link to Turak. "Emak, we are nineteen hours six minutes until scheduled alert." "How long before Galad arrives at Tera?"
"Seven hours fifty-six minutes." Absent any remaining patience Emak opens another communication with the systems operation commander dismissing contact with Turak, "Emak to Pelom," Eager for change Pelom answers immediately. "Pelom to Emak, affirmative."
"The ships stasis field, adjust the frequency to hold debris from the asteroid field." Can I do that, I better not question Emak, Pelom thinks to himself before responding, "Affirmative Emak, do you have any further commands at this time?" Weary with everyone on this ship always responding in the same way. "Alert me when you have completed my command."
Before Pelom can even respond the transmission is ended. With this being the first time Emak has ever contacted him Pelom has no idea what's coming. Acting without hesitation intent on making events occur in his favor Emak contacts resource distribution. "Emak to resource distribution." Away from the console Inikit answers somewhat off guard," Inikit awaiting command instructions, Emak."
"Transport additional communications monitor terminals to my personal quarters, immediately! Suspend all other scheduled tasks." "Affirmative, Emak. Transport of communications monitor terminals will supersede all other tasks." Before Inikit has a chance to ask if there are other commands the line is disabled, something has the Ambassador worried, but what could that be?
Nothing ever happens aboard the most tedious position in the galaxy, as curious as Inikit is, duty calls as resource team Theta team arrives for their scheduled log. "Taleg, Ulag, you have been requisitioned by Ambassador Emak." Expecting the lowly maintenance crew to be impressed Inikit pauses before presenting team Theta an amended task log.
Senior maintenance technician Taleg asks, "Why does he want old communications monitor terminals?" Ulag patiently waits to move on to the next task relieved at the prospect of a moment from the total boredom of being surrounded by other bored automatons. Perhaps this is the opportunity she needs to get off maintenance crew.
Dr. Hammond has completed analysis included with monitored tracking and an amazing amount of information from the area 51 observation array, making contact with Doug and dreading this ridiculous bro-fest Jeanie transfers the call immediately.
"Douglas, I have completed a preliminary analysis." "So do I need to make a lot more calls or just a couple?" Already regretting not leaving early Doug counting down to party time. "A lot more calls Douglas," "Shit! ok lay it on me bro."
After listening to science words that sound mostly made up Doug's head was throbbing, ok maybe it was from the ten or so shots of Johnny Walker Blue he'd had since lunch but the fucking weekend man he thinks to himself.
Sorting out what Greg said if it's just going to go through one side and pop out the other without messing with earth I don't think I need to go off like the sky is falling. Doug sets his mind, I'll call John, see what he says and take it from there. Satisfied Doug reaches for a glass and the bottle.
"Long story short sir something big came into the solar system near the speed of light. This foreign object is surrounded by space debris Dr. Hammond believes this is intentional and as long as its surrounded by space debris we're only able to monitor its current course as it travels through the solar system."
Sitting in a penthouse suite at Caesar's Palace John hears that whatever it is, it's going right on through and it's not paying any attention to us. "Alright Doug, set the monitors to auto track and hurry up alright." Doug lets that be the last words on the line and gets up from his chair.
Across the base Dr. Hammond continues to monitor the UCO, confident that Douglas has alerted the proper channels and expecting contact with other observatories to begin at any given moment. Doug leaves after Jeanie already forgotten about his offer to party in Vegas with Greg. Later Doug's laying on his back having his sixth cleavage shot well on his way to unconsciousness when he remembers his offer to Greg to get out of the box and live it up before everything gets serious.
With a shrug and a chuckle this is dismissed, he wouldn't come anyway that guy is more into space than fun and he's convinced any second something "Big", is going to change everything. Around the same time Doug passes out Dr. Hammond makes an observation that confirms this is an advanced spacecraft and not just some magnetic meteor.
The pattern of debris is too precise to be a random natural occurrence, the size and position of each object is a geometrically designed pattern. Perfect placement does not occur on this scale, a single snow flake may present perfect symmetry, however when you collect enough for a snow ball damage occurs to individual patterns.
Preparing a report while observing the data on a dozen screens Dr. Hammond is quite confident Douglas has left for the night. Putting the papers aside Dr. Hammond glares at the screens debating whether to begin notifying government interests. Feeling frustrated with his hands tied, if I ask other observatories for assistance in analysis I'll be put in prison. If I go above General Raethcroam's authority I'll betray my only friend.
On board this ship surrounded by debris, "Resource distribution Team Theta present to install additional communication relay terminals." Finally, Emak impatiently says, "Open!" Watching as the technicians enter and begin preparing an installation port for additional communication monitor terminals.
With remarkable efficiency after only a few minutes the technicians are finished. "Installation compete Ambassador Emak, awaiting further orders." "No further orders you may return to scheduled tasks." Wearing a blank expression Taleg simply replies, "Affirmative." as the technicians leave to return the scheduled maintenance checklist.
Ulag turns towards Taleg after exiting to say, "It would have been appreciable for Ambassador to make a note of positive performance." Replying as a matter of fact Taleg says, "Ambassador Emak has many responsibilities."
As senior technician Taleg follows procedure without question, the odd request causes him to ponder the situation adding to his previous statement. "Perhaps he will post note of performance after he's completed his progress."
Recognizing the matter is of no importance to Taleg, Ulag replies, "Affirmative, I will concentrate on efficiency Senior Technician Taleg." Running through her mind as she makes the statement, how many centuries before she finally advances to Tale's position?
Making a personal note junior technician Ulag considers using personal leisure time to anticipate any needs that Ambassador Emak may require. Emak standing before the communication relay terminals begins to program the terminals for direct contact to engineering, communications, and navigations bridges.
Checking his connections Emak contacts each bridge to check on progress, with nothing more to do at the moment he returns to his resting pad while Teran music continues to play in the background Emak takes a short rest as time keeps on ticking.
At the area fifty-one observation array Dr. Hammond drifts towards a brief nap of his own while laying in a ten thousand dollar a night Las Vegas hotel Doug sleeps in the oblivion of being black out drunk.
Like some cosmically linked internal clock three hours and thirty three minutes later Emak, Doug and Dr. Hammond all become aware the time for action is now as each awakens fully alert beginning their personal wake up routine. Emak raises walking over to the sustenance cabinet requesting the Centralian version of coffee and toast.
At the area fifty-one site Dr. Hammond stands in front of the coffee maker toasting an onion bagel he nibbles while sipping on black coffee, returning to the observation panel to take a seat and put his glasses back on after rubbing the remaining sleep from his eyes. With his eyes focused Dr. Hammond sends a personal text message to Douglas to contact him back as soon as he is able.
Rolling over to the sculpted backside of a five thousand dollar a night call girl, Doug groans coming to his feet he gives her cheek a tight smack leaving his hand print as the echo reports she is awakened. "Time to put your stockings back on darlin' I've got some important shit to do." The only reason Greg would text me at two in the morning is something important has happened.
Weary Doug reaches out to grab the bottle of Jack on the nightstand to drain the last shot left, on the way out the door Doug say's, "... let's go, were burnin' daylight!"
On board the Star Drive Ship Galad is awoken from his stasis chamber as the ship reaches the edge of the Teranus system. Preparing a landing path Galad programs the ships computer to travel to satellite orbit in order to identify Teran locations emitting high energy signatures. After establishing parameters Galad returns to the stasis chamber for the remaining three hours and thirty three minutes before orbit location has been reached.
On board the Ambassador ship Turak observes the Star Drive Ship enter the Teranus system. "Turak to Emak." Immediately Turak opens a communication to Ambassador Emak, a brief moment passes as Emak walks to the communication relay terminals. "Affirmative Turak, you may report." Notifying Emak that the Star Drive Ship has entered the Teranus system Turak also reports that Galad will be in Teran orbit programming range in approximately three hours thirty minutes.
"Affirmative Turak, continue observation and adjust course pattern to Theta Epsilon Ramana Alpha, now." Following procedure Turak reprograms the course destination, "Course destination set. Destination is now twelve hours thirty eight minutes at .2 AU from Tera. Awaiting further instructions Emak." "Alert me in ten hours." Without question Turak says, "Affirmative."
Even with course alteration there's much to prepare for, opening communication with Resource distribution again, "Emak to Inikit." What now? "Affirmative, awaiting command." Responding immediately Inikit puzzled at yet another demand from Emak as we approach Tera, is it finally time, are we going to make contact?
Anticipating some change in the monotonous routine aboard the Ambassador ship Inikit listens to Emak's orders, "Make ready for me the following supplies at once." Reading over the list Inikit makes note as he replies, "Affirmative. Any further..." words trailing off as the communication is terminated. Emak no longer takes the time to waste on pointless requests for further commands.
Arriving to area fifty-one, passing security with a nod and a yawn General Raethcroam activates his phones private setting to call Dr. Hammond. "Ok let er' rip." Receiving the call back nearly a full hour after making effort to contact the General, Dr. Hammond is more than annoyed. "A second object has entered the solar system from the center of the galaxy traveling at a speed impossible to measure."
Shocked, Doug thinks two intergalactic planetary discoveries in one day, what the fuck is going on? One of them is traveling faster than anything we've ever tracked, shit this is big, maybe bigger than Roswell. Fuck I'm going to be making phone call all morning, there goes the weekend, "Where's the second one headed?"
"You might want to sit down." While Doug may not be a rocket scientist he is quite perceptive, Dr. Hammond already regretting the phrasing of his last comment. "You're fucking shitting me!" Beginning a panic attack knowing how intense the news is, Dr. Hammond reaches for his fast acting inhaler.
Thinking to himself, this is why I need to stop working for the government, this constant stress is not positive. At the same time Doug in full panic mode, imagining the worst possible scenarios. Rushing to his office for the secured land line and his comfortable chair so he can listen to Dr. Hammond, General Raethcroam opens the desk for a bottle of pills and flops into his chair, "K, I'm sittin' so now ya gonna tell me it's coming right for us, huh!"
With a nervous stammer after a pull of his inhaler Greg starts to explain, "Well, um, it's, its headed directly towards the sun." In his command chair few drops of urine escape from the General dampening his shorts. Nothing can prepare you for hearing something like that, even scientists haven't calculated that as a scenario... yet.
As a military officer even though he's got a desk job he can still remember what happens to a giant watermelon when you shoot it from a mile away with a Barrett. "Get up here with your reports and help me explain this shit, OK!"
More frightened than he's ever been in ten years of his command Doug picks up the land line phone pressing a set of button commands ready to start breaking the biggest news ever. Well aware of the gravity of this situation Dr. Hammond was prepared to leave for the Generals office, "On my way, General."
Moments after the General is put through to the president Dr. Hammond walks into the Generals office with documents in hand. After relaying the basic details the General puts the speaker phone on to let Dr. Hammond clarify any questions.
"We've observed two IPD's, ones trajectory appears to head through the orbit without incident, while the other is heading towards the sun. Does that sum it up?" "Yes, but...", before Dr. Hammond can further elaborate the president starts in with a few specific questions.
"Ok, it's headed towards the sun, what happens if it hits the sun?" Ready to finish his prepared observations Dr. Hammond begins, "Theoretically I've conceived of three scenarios."
"The first is that this object will divert course of its own accord within time needed to avoid impact. The second is that perhaps this object is traveling from star to star as a sort of worm hole travel we have yet to observe in actual practice."
"The final scenario is that it will strike the sun creating a solar event likely to create a black hole singularity eventually engulfing everything in this solar system." This is insane, what do I do, thinking for a moment the president produces another question. "How long at present speed before it would not be able to divert path from celestial collision?"
Honored to be speaking with the president Dr. Hammond is regretting his best guess, "Based on preliminary data and calculations I've estimated time remaining before impact becomes the likely scenario at approximately eight hours." Intensely the president responds, "That's not much time, what's going to happen as it passes Earth, what about the asteroid belt, will it bring other space debris?" Looking over new data Dr. Hammond replies slowly, "If it's still at the same speed when it enters the asteroid belt, yes."
Alarmed by a potential ELE the president attempting to sound under control asks, "How long before it reaches the asteroid belt?" Shocked the Dr. says, "Approximately four hours." Without another word the line goes silent.
You Can Do It
Today will be perfect, imagine everything falling into place as each event folds into the next. Everything is in perfect order, at least that's what I tell myself. Preparing for the opportunity of a lifetime I make my morning coffee. Barely able to sit still for a minute to have my coffee and Greek yogurt.
Scrolling through my inbox, praying my interview hasn't been canceled. Impatient and unsatisfied I toss the empty yogurt cup into the trash and head to the bathroom to shower and brush my teeth. Seven fifteen, I've already been up since five picking out my interview outfit which took an amazing ten or fifteen minutes.
Most of that time I spent debating if I would wear my normal white ankle socks or black business socks or do I put the black socks over the white socks because the black socks feel weird and make my feet smell funny. My whole life all I've wanted to do was help make the best games possible, now I have the chance to product test deep VR.
Scrolling through my inbox again, still nothing. Early morning I practice interview questions sitting in my favorite chair under my bedroom window surrounded by pictures of family members passed on and old action figures treasured from my youth. Each face looks back curiously.
Am I immature for holding on to relics of my childhood? Behind the degree and the professional facade am I still just a kid eager to test a game no one else will get for years? No, I didn't spend four years working through tedious word counts and academia for nothing. So what I don't have OJT in IT, I've built desktop computers, worked with network gear and coding for nearly three decades, I know computer technology.
I know its history and its potential future, I've got this with or without employed field experience. "Where do you see yourself in five years?" "Well Batman bank, I see myself leading projects that further global economic trade through introduction of innovative environmentally aware products and services." Tracker says, "How?" By presenting exceptional development strategy solutions in line with business and consumer interests."
Blankly staring back at me an action figure of Star Scream may as well be whining in a conniving tone complete with a hiss at the end, "Wouldn't that lower profits?" "Lower profits, BAD!" Grimlock chimes in while a fuzzy plush Garfield sits eyes barely open, like he sees through my academically stereotypical answer with no interest in bloviated droning delusions of grandure.
Going over this whole process second guessing how best to answer the popularity contest that will determine if I've finally made it into career work or go back to searching for career work. Like having an itch under a cast you can't scratch, and it smells funny too.
That smell of desperation, Calvin Kline doesn't try to bottle a cologne called defeat, it doesn't exist. The world loves a winner, it also loves to kick you when you're down. Every major interview starts out the same way: pick out cloths without any food stains, practice interview questions, don't sweat, don't smell, keep your posture straight, talk clearly, don't try to use big words unless they're the only ones that make sense. What else, oh don't be the first one to make a joke and if the interviewer makes a joke don't laugh too much or not enough.
Scrolling again on the phone, email, face book, LinkedIn still no messages changing the interview status with Boeing, but Steve, Bonnie and Rachael are all up. Posting to Facebook, typical. Nine fifty-eight, Steve tagged you in a post, of course Steve would post a picture of six bottles of Corona beer all in lounge chairs with side tables drinking Corona beers looking at a beach sunset with a cheesy tagline Chillin'. Bonnie's post is just a reposted picture of her and Steve's trip last year on a sailboat holding a huge sword fish by enormous fishing rods.
Steve already told me last year the sailboat captain caught the fish and they paid an extra hundred dollars to get the photo of the catch. Sometimes I think that Rachael sits down with a notebook and a pen to write out everything she posts on Facebook. "Good morning sunshine, today everything will be perfect." She always knows just what to say to calm me down when I'm feeling all agitated.
I think we're all way too into our phones, Steve and Bonnie live next door, they know I'm up why don't they just come over? I can just picture myself as an old man telling my grandchildren when I was your age we played outside and talked to people in person. All dressed up and ready to go, of course as I turn the key to the ignition I get a call from Boeing Human Resources.
A sinking feeling hits my stomach, are they canceling, confirming the appointment time, or are they rescheduling? Well the best way to know is to answer, "Hello, Joe Gamer speaking." "Hello Mr. Gamer, were sorry for the delay however your interview meeting has been rescheduled for 12:30 instead of 11:30."
"Mr. Bronson regrets to say he must reschedule but he assures that you will not be rescheduled again." What does that mean, is he saying if I don't show up to the later interview time forget ever working for Boeing? "Thank you for calling Ms. Bennet, I'll be there, have a great day and see you soon." Wow I'm such a dork, I can't believe I just said that and hung up, what is wrong with me?
Great, there's no way I'll make the one o'clock flight now. I'll have to try to get a later flight, looking at my phone ten thirty-five, ok well I have an hour to try and rebook my flight. Rachael's going to be disappointed that we can't go on the same flight, at least I'm already headed to the airport.
Five minutes later driving to the SeaTac Airport, Rachael calls. As her voice comes in over the car speaker I'm glad I replaced the bipolar express last year for the CTS. "I just wanted to say that you'll be great at the interview, your perfect for this and you know it." Could she be any more positive, the magic eight ball says no. "I'm really sorry babe, but they rescheduled the interview."
I hated to have to tell her this, "I'm going to miss the flight." The line is silent for a moment before she says, "Ok, so reschedule the flight and well connect with Steve and Bonnie at the hotel." Relieved I tell her, "I'm already on the way into Seattle, in case I can't switch both flights do you still want to go down with Steve and Bonnie?"
"You know we could just go somewhere private and tell Steve and Bonnie we couldn't make it." I think about that for a moment and stammer back, "Errr, hmm, um, yeah uh Steve and Bonnie have been talking about this for weeks." Flashbacks to poor decision making under the influence of way too many shots of tequila and Corona's with Steve remind me of more poor decisions when I had Steve hold the ring I planned on giving to Rachael.
Before I get to far down memory lane Rachael says, "I know, they're blowing up face book like someone's getting married." Coming up with my best smart ass quip, "Don't say blowing up at the airport or you'll get a free colonoscopy!" Already chuckling too myself she's quick to reply.
"More butt jokes, seriously don't men ever get tired if toilet humor?" Inches away from my right front bumper someone in modded red import nearly clips me like he's in a need for speed race. With uneasiness in my voice I keep the conversation going as I drive down I5. "That's not toilet humor, What did one toilet politician say to the other toilet politician?" With a fake sigh she says, "Oh no, ok what?" Finishing the terrible joke, "Ya know we're all full of shit!" Groaning on the other end she says, "Ok that's enough."
"Yeah I guess, since I've never been to Cancun and Bonnie will blow a gasket if we don't go, we should go. Besides I am already on the way to the airport, all packed and ready to go." Always mellow, how does she stay so calm? "I'll see you there." "Can you make it to the interview in time?" I'm so relieved she's not all about herself, with how gorgeous she is I can't see how Rachael isn't totally perfect. It would be just my luck she's a total psycho under her too good to be true looks. Realizing I'm spacing out again I say, "Sure, the Boeing offices are only ten minutes from SeaTac. I'm already here."
She must be fighting traffic in her envirocar, she gives a cute little grunt before responding, "Ok but your interview is at twelve thirty and the plane leaves at one, and their boarding at twelve thirty and I'm still like ten minutes away." Pulling into a parking space I say, "It's ok I just wanted to see you before you board the flight, you know I'm nervous about flying."
"The guy afraid to fly wants a job with Boeing?" When I found out Boeing had began scheduling manned missions to mars for private industry I saw an opportunity for gaming to provide something more than just a diversion. Before spacing out for too long I reply, "I'm not a pilot or flight attendant. I'm presenting a project prospectus to bring in better entertainment options for passengers on long space flights to mars."
I've already gone into detail about my project. I'm pretty sure she's being sarcastic, she just likes it when I get defensive because she thinks I'm silly when I over react. Steve and Bonnie pull into a parking space already reserved in the Row A section.
I'm not as jealous as I am broke, and for that matter I'm not that broke but without that big career job I have to look out for every penny. They don't notice me as they grab bags from the back of Steve's 2020 hybrid Yukon XL.
Memories of celebration when he finally gained his Residence at the University of Washington Medical Center. He worked hard and he earned everything. It's funny, while scientists and medical professionals put an end to polio and other ill shit that will kill you, society in general could care less until they need help. Steve also plays the stock market like old ladies play slots in Vegas, if he's not nose deep in his phone every two or three minutes I'd be amazed.
It was cosmic, in the same day he lands the dream job making ten grand a month, a penny stock he invested in early made him a millionaire over night. With his streak of luck Steve wanted to celebrate. Oh boy did we celebrate big, never forget, never drink beer after tequila, again. I can still taste a special kind of awful. Waiting for Rachael playing with my phone checking this and that while I think back to the night Steve got his big win.
I just got fired from my last job when he posted the news to Facebook, moments later he's banging on my door. "Bro, you won't believe what happened!" "Ok dude, go ahead what's the big news?" I say with all the enthusiasm of Ben Stein on a Nyquil binge. Steve could tell even though things were going great for him things weren't good for me. "Seriously bruh you look like Lurch, what's wrong?"
Feeling guilty because I interrupted his big moment I sigh and say, "Nothing big dude I just got fired today." "Wow, bruh, how do you get fired on your day off." Badly mimicking Chris Tucker from Friday, Steve manages to get me into a little better mood. Over the next six or seven hours everything kind of blurs together.
Sometime between ordering pizza and vomiting profusely into Steve's toilet I rambled about how my prospectus to Boeing was going to be bigger than Godzilla. Hazy memories of Steve making a deal with me to finance this project between drunken rock band fails, led to more booze and an order for an overpriced engagement ring complete with tickets for all of us to go to Cancun.
Vomiting with a force and velocity equal to a fire hose I could swear I saw everything I've ever eaten come from my mouth. Twelve o three and Rachael's finally here. Sure its efficient but cramped and has less power than a pair of squirrels on a hamster wheel. Waving her over to the parking spot I grabbed she pulls in after I pull out.
Getting out of the car I can't believe the goddess before me lunges towards me arms outstretched, clutching me tight as she kisses me deeply, her kiss fills me with a sense of comfort like no other. "Sorry I'm late, are you gonna be late to the interview?" "I should be able to make it in time, I just wanted to see you before I go to the interview interfering with our plans." I say this with a smirk while Rachael makes a playful frowning face.
Ever the optimist Rachael says, "I'm sorry you have to get a later flight but hey by the time you get to the hotel we'll have everything all set." Giving her my best puppy dog look I tell her, "Call me when you get checked into the hotel. I'll tell you how everything went, and let you know what time I'll be catching up to you."
With a final kiss on the cheek, "Ok, Bye for now and don't be nervous I know you can do it" Flipping her hair while she makes an over dramatic turn for fun she blows me a kiss before heading to the Airport terminal. Glancing at my phone, 12:10, I hop in the car and head to the Boeing parking lot. Of course it's full so I park across the street at a gas station and slip the attendant a twenty to let my car stay for the next hour or so.
A Meeting to Plan a Meeting
Sitting around the large table people watch as monitors display various images of an alien craft avoiding the asteroid belt diverting course direct for Earth. Muted panic runs through everyone's mind considering the worst possible scenario. Also traveling towards Earth on the Galactic Emissary Ship Emak observes Galad's Star Drive Ship divert course to avoid the asteroid belt as it begins to slow down for landing.
All things must end, time drawing near, his choice becoming clear, Emak thinks to himself it's time for lunch. On board the Star Drive Ship Galad comes to consciousness as the ship prepares to open connection to a laser satellite array found in a small desert region on Tera.
Observing an active monitoring of his arrival Galad prepares an entry path and landing schedule curious at what Teran delights will be presented in honor of his arrival. Moving that thought aside Galad opens a direct contact with the Teran desert laser satellite array. Moments pass in silence, many of the people gathered are scared or confused or just waiting for someone else to speak first. As Dr. Hammond begins to explain the observed IPD's actions, the area 51 observation array receives a direct transmission from the incoming IPD. Galad sits at the console composing his message to the Teran leaders.
"Salutations, I have greatly anticipated meeting with an advanced Teran civilization for many millennia. Soon the vision of a Galactic Council of Planets will bring together Tera and Centralus together in this galaxy. I have observed your most advanced communication systems and I have prepared my landing at the coordinates presented now. Surely this moment in history, our first formal meeting of the Galactic Council of Planets, marks advancement towards galactic prosperity."
Placing his seal on the transmission Galad goes to his personal laboratory to prepare the metabolic transducer for use. In his centuries of research on the hybrid progeny and wife subject Galad wanted to understand Teran limitations. He developed the metabolic transducer to emulate Teran physiology as a pleasant byproduct it allowed him to enjoy Teran sustenance.
At the area 51 observation array the gathered council receives this message, some with apprehension and mistrust while others are quite excited and optimistic. The president speaks first, "Can we send a greeting message back?"
Dr. Hammond begins to explain, "That would be unnecessary as we already sent the Voyager 1 in 1977, not to mention SETI's ongoing efforts to contact extraterrestrial intelligence." The president speaks to the group, "Thoughts, concerns, suggestions?" Immediately jumping to conclusions the Secretary of Defense blurts out. "We can maintain monitoring and direct weapons systems in case this Galad poses a threat!"
Upset at this direct assumption of hostility Dr. Hammond retorts, "Yes let's just attack the leader of an advanced civilization, Are you developmentally delayed or just an over aggressive throw back to some barely bipedal primate?" Doug wonders why does he go into the technical words? Why doesn't he just call him an asshole? Around the table some have a knowing smirk others either don't understand or don't care, either way the conversation continues with little notice.
Taking control of the conversation the president says, "Dr. Hammond, as the onsite expert, without the pithy retorts, please explain why we should not target and monitor the incoming IPD?"
Regaining composure Dr. Hammond starts, "Well for starters, whatever power source the alien craft is using, it could be quite dangerous." Jumping in the secretary of defense interrupts, "Like a weapon?" Continuing Dr. Hammond says, "No, not like a weapon, more like a dark matter or other contained singularity based engine. Entirely safe as long as it is not damaged, impeded, destroyed..."
The president makes note, "Ok. So the craft may be dangerous of its attacked?" "Not simply dangerous, possibly catastrophic, imagine everything being imploded into a black hole, goodbye solar system, say hello to the nothing."
With a gulp from everyone around the table it becomes quite clear attacking this Galad is not a good idea. "Furthermore the simple act of tracking him with our weapons systems may be taken as an act of hostility..." Asking the most pertinent questions the president says, "So that may instigate an attack, does the craft have any weapons systems?"
Dr. Hammond attempts to answer this question but the lack of confidence in his response is obvious. "We do not observe any potential weapons systems based on..."
Around the table minds race for a solution, all of which are inconsequential as the president says, "Ok so we do not target using weapons systems but we monitor using passive systems while we establish a rapid relay. If weapons are needed we're ready."
Frowns and smiles pop up on the tabled group as Dr. Hammond starts into some more scientific speech. "Monitoring is best. The alien Galad is already aware of monitoring systems so this will not be perceived as a threat. I'm still opposed to using weapons." Multiple people at the table ask at the same time as the president, "How soon will the IPD arrive?" Dr. Hammond directs his response to the President. "Based on scaling rate of speed it the IPD will arrive at approximately twelve thirty."
Relieved that conflict is unlikely the president begins her speech. "Ladies and Gentlemen of this council, for the first time in human history we have made direct contact with a higher intelligence."
"This is an unprecedented moment in history, an advanced civilization within this galaxy has extended a hand in brotherhood. A chance to actualize the long held dream of a Galactic Council of Planets could in a short time assist the resolution of all manmade environmental dangers."A few sneer knowing something of epic importance even the president is still not aware of.
Continuing with the speech, "This contact marks a path of remarkable achievement, one which should be shared with the entire human race." A subtle paranoia comes over the few as General Raethcroam interjects with absolute professionalism, "I must respectfully recommend a private meeting before any course of action is determined." Taken off guard the president follows the Secretary of Defense, General Raethcroam and two people she doesn't recall ever meeting before into, a supply closet.
Dr. Hammond stunned, daydreaming a rerun of being left out, what is it, don't they trust me? Why do they leave me out of the loop? Getting irritated at being left out but trying to keep calm, small conversations begin at the table while Dr. Hammond thinks from reverse back through all the little details from the past twenty years since he's taken this damn job.
All the people waiting at the table are thinking the same thing even if no one's willing to say it out loud. No one's happy that a meeting to schedule a meeting is being interrupted by a private meeting, give me a fucking break!
Moments later, from the closet the president says, "This meeting will be resumed in one hour." While the president is saying this the General collects everyone's cell phones to ensure no disclosure. Dr. Hammond's eyes widen as he watches a man in black use a narcoses dart on Neil, shocked he watches several others drugged by Doug and the men in black.
Eyes going slack Dr. Hammond wakes up in a small individual room with no visible entrance, groggy and drugged only five words can describe the situation, "What the fuck is going on!" Screaming the moment passes as a mixture of chemical agents put Dr. Hammond back to sleep.
In the private floors of area 52 the silent electric cart moves toward the ship. "What the fuck?" Trying to keep the president calm General Raethcroam looks over to Zedi and says with a wink, "Yeah, what the fuck?"
Lifting the sunglasses Zedi looks over towards the humans showing odd iridescent eyes, "We will explain, you were not ready to know this technology yet." The other man in black lifts his sunglasses revealing odd cat looking eyes.
The moment the sunglasses come up his face immediately shifting in appearance to look cat like, "Many more civilizations exist, you have already been being groomed for contact, this is not a scheduled occurrence." Only showing its true face for a brief second she thinks to herself this is so weird.
Arriving to the project x site all the information begins to make sense, "Ok, so there's already a galactic council, we're still about three hundred years away from being in it and this "Centralus" civilization is literally from the center of the milky way galaxy, it was believed that the black hole had already engulfed this civilization over two thousand years ago, unfortunately the proper monitoring equipment has yet to be invented on this planet through reverse engineering efforts yet?"
Summing up what she's heard in the past few minutes the president waits for some kind of response. Taking responsibility Zedi turns to her, "We apologize however the actual materials must be recreated in order to develop the systems we need."
Continuing to explain, "We have worked with your worlds scientists since our crash over seven decades ago, you see roughly a century ago our observation vessel recorded technology from your system.
With no advanced civilization providing guidance for landing we crashed. Apparently our conclusion that the black hole at the center of the milky way galaxy will continue to expand until completion has been delayed."
Working the run down on the better part of a three century plan the president, incredulous replies, "Were you ever going to mention this to me? Did you mention this to the last president?" Zedi replies, "Not everyone is ready to know, we provide the procedural advancement plan established by the Galactic Council of Planets. Thousands star systems hold billions of active planets, your civilization is a type three."
Xytix adds, "Our monitors detected a type six civilization which requires us to investigate. We were just doing our job." Everyone begins to sound the same, more of the old, I was just doing my job. "Where are we now?"
Looking at each other the men in black exchange a brief moment when Zedi looks back. "Currently your CERN is developing type four which will lead to your ability to manage this solar system, which is type five" "What?" While she understood CERN was an important part of scientific advancement she had no idea these plans were laid out in the early fifties.
Zedi continues, "The ability to mine near space debris will expand your limited table of elements with necessary materials." Xytix adds, "We are prohibited from providing any information your species has not posed in theory on its own."
Always moving forward the president asks, "OK, so what's our next move?" Zedi replies "We are taking you to our ships monitor to detect if the IPD is hostile." "You have monitors..." Xytix interrupts, "In order to repair our systems, it was necessary for us to guide your technological development. With LiFi and XG your communications systems are now advanced enough to repair interstellar communications."
Zedi states, "Perhaps in a decade we will be able to establish communications to an outpost." "So you're telling me that even to get your ship working again..." Expecting to have her sentence finished the president patiently waits for Zedi to say, "We may reach our needs to return to our outpost in another four decades."
"You're willing to spend an entire century holding our hand, moving us along just to get your ship repaired?" "Yes. Our life span is quite different than a human life span. On your planet I will live for at least twenty-five thousand years, Xytix could live for nearly a hundred thousand. As Zedi says this the other man in black looks back at the president lifting his sunglasses he gives her another odd cat smile, "What can I say, I have nine lives."
Arriving to the ship and boarding through the ramp the moment surreal like stepping into an old Sci-Fi movie from the fifties . Kinda scary how close Hollywood was allowed to present subtle details. Working some equipment into the console a few moments later Zedi begins the scan of the ship to look for weapons systems.
"Excellent report, the ship coming towards us has no identifiable weapons systems." Picking up on that, "So Galad's being honest, he's peaceful?" In unison Xytix and Zedi reply, "Yes." Feeling out of control the president asks, "So now what?" Zedi says as a matter of protocol, "We meet a new member of the Galactic Council of Planets and inform them of their duty as quadrant monitor."
Returning to the official meeting room Zedi selects the control to return those not included in this discussion to their seat at the table, unaware that they have been put into a temporary sleep state only Dr. Hammond realizes something has happened.
Dr. Hammond thinks to himself, I was in a white room somewhere, what's going on, maybe it's best to play along. As he comes to this conclusion Doug, the president and the two men in black come back from the storage closet. "As I was saying, we have a lot to do in a short amount of time," Still fuzzy headed Dr. Hammond listens as the president outlines her order of operations to inform the select scientific community advisors and world leaders.
After establishing the order of operations everyone leaves the room except the president and Dr. Hammond, holding back making sure the two men in black leave the room before Dr. Hammond reaches out to grab her arm and whisper into her ear.
"Mrs. President, there are some details you need to know, you can't trust the men in black, I need to talk to you privately." Already within their observation ship, Xytix and Zedi begin to make a report back to their Collective outpost, unknown to the president the Collective is the opposition force to the Galactic Council of Planets.
At the same time unknown to Xytix and Zedi, Dr. Hammond's talking to the president, "Ok so what did you want to talk about?" Dr. Hammond notably upset asks, "Did you know those of us not included in your private meeting were drugged and placed into stasis chambers?" She responds uneasy, "Yes and no." Dr. Hammond prods, "What yes, what no?" "Yes I knew you were drugged, but I didn't see anyone moved, as far as I could see you were never moved you just sat at the table knocked out."
Irritated Dr. Hammond asks, "Why wasn't I included in the discussion, I am the onsite Director of Communication Observations and Studies (DCOS), don't I need to be included?" Thinking for a moment it was odd that the head of scientific observations at area 51 was not included, what is it they don't want Dr. Hammond to know?
Answering honestly she says, "I don't know why you weren't included." Drawing conclusions Dr. Hammond says, "I'll tell you why, I've recognized many things inconsistent with government reports made concerning aliens, were the men in black aliens in disguise?"
Still trying to figure out the best course of action the president realizes she's been manipulated, replying irritated, "Yes, when they lift up their sunglasses their faces and eyes shift appearance." Shocked Dr. Hammond repeats himself twice, "I knew it, I knew it." Continuing Dr. Hammond says, "You need to come to my office."While government agents, senators, military personnel and the men in black are following orders Dr. Hammond is in his small observation post with the president.
"The men in black, are hiding their real motives, the entire past two decades I've been working here in between observing celestial objects and communications I've been researching and debunking area 51 myth's." Suspicious she asks, "Why?" Happy to continue talking Dr. Hammond says, "Glad you've asked. Since the Roswell crash landing in 1947 there have been more than thirteen thousand reports regarding; Roswell, aliens, crop circles, alien autopsy, abductions, experimentation and other such myths including area 51 itself. When I took this job my research began because the government had denied area 51 existed at the time I began working here. Why were they lying about area 51, what's hidden and what's just wild fantasy."
Listening the president begins to think to herself, when will he get to the point? "Over the course of the past twenty years I have examined thousands of files and debunked all but one hundred forty-seven which I have confirmed instead. The first of which is the Roswell crash itself, my evidence has all but confirmed that the men in black are the pilot and copilot of that crash."
Amazed Dr. Hammond is right about Roswell she says, "Yes, they had me on their ship as they scanned to determine if Galad was truly peaceful and honest." Muttering the first part, "One hundred forty-eight, Ok so I know you don't want the full story..." Relieved she lets out a small sigh as she says, "Yes, well time is a factor." Aware of time since Galad will be arriving in less than three hours.
"Long story short, they've been quite secretive in their guidance. What bothers me is that all of the advanced propulsion systems they're developing with us, are potentially dangerous. Rockets, nuclear fission, nuclear fusion, and now anti-matter. Everything they have helped develop can be used as weapons."
Skeptical she replies, "That doesn't prove anything." Frustrated that he hasn't explained well enough in his summary Dr. Hammond counters, "They have been selective in sharing knowledge and technology, I expect they have told you that they can only disclose technology or knowledge that we have theorized on our own." Curious she begins to say, "Yes, part of their role as observers..."
Before she can continue Dr. Hammond breaks in, "Ok well what if I told you Nikola Tesla was ahead of Einstein and Oppenheimer. Even more important is that the men in black purposefully didn't work with Tesla or Einstein as they suppressed some of their technological advancements benefiting all mankind because these would interfere with other technologies that benefit them."
Losing patience the president says, "That's a pretty far stretch..." With that Dr. Hammond begins playing a short video, the video showing from beginning to completion in time lapse video, the building of something odd. Dr. Hammond narrates as the object is put together.
"This engine model was patented by Nikola Tesla in 1931 sixteen years before the Roswell crash and kept from being accepted by spurious paperwork until 1949, six years after he had already died." Eyes growing wider Dr. Hammond begins to speak louder with more intensity, "This engine model was prohibited from disclosure until 1989. This system could have been worked into our motor vehicle infrastructure as soon as 1935."
Eyes wide Dr. Hammond shouts, "Before the U.S. had even joined the second world war! It produces positive ions and generates a self sustaining electrical field. All of the vehicle emissions for the past ninety years have been put into our atmosphere purposefully! This proves they do not hold the same interests that humanity has."
Taking in that last part the question comes up, why would these aliens want us to pollute the planet to the point of a global warming induced ice age? Adding to this Dr. Hammond brings up another screen showing a second IPD, also headed at earth first avoiding the energy wake of Galad's ship, now riding in it.
"Madame President, I didn't show them this, because I've never met them before today, even though I've seen the men in black a thousand times in photos, something about them is too familiar." "Ok so what is that, and have you received any communications from them?" "That's the thing, whatever this one is, its slower than the first and surrounded by a grid of meteorites ranging in size from a dump truck to the size of a house."
Stunned that it took this long for Dr. Hammond to tell her this the president listens waiting for a moment to ask questions. "Examination of the magnetic field around the object the full diameter of the meteorite field is approximately 99 miles, made up of over ten thousand meteorites. I'm still not sure how big the object in the center of the magnetic field is."
"Could it just be being dragged by accident by the Galad ship?" "I've already checked, here..." , pausing to bring up a calculation projection Dr. Hammond continues, "If this were a natural occurrence traveling through from the Oort Cloud through our solar system as it appeared, the travel path of deviation from the Galad's ship would be pulled to this course. Which would still send it towards mars as it exits the other side of our solar system back towards the Oort Cloud."
This guy's giving me a headache, thinking to herself the president begins to lose focus on yet another scientist rambling on when he could just come out and say what he mean as she listens to Dr. Hammond drone on.
"Instead the travel path deviates here and increases to attempt to keep pace behind the faster ship. Riding in a communications blind spot if you will, once it reaches this point here, see, gone, no sign its coming at all." "Ok so another object's coming?" "Not one object, over ten thousand objects, unified as one object's protective shield." The president starts to become intensely irritated. "If you don't get to the point soon, so help me..."
"Ok, Ok, what if the other alien craft is in secret contact with the men in black with some plan to destroy Galad and us! What if, this second ship's being instructed by the men in black to strike selective locations on earth with these meteorites."
Cutting off Dr. Hammond, she simply can't take any more of these conspiracy theories, "Listen, I'm still in charge, just follow orders, and keep this to yourself for now. Can you figure out how to keep monitoring the second collective object?" "After Galad breaches the upper stratosphere, I will be able to find it yes, I will work out the calculations to..."
At her breaking point she shouts, "Don't bother with telling me. Just do it!" "Ok, yes." With other matters to deal with the president asks, "Are we done?" "Um, yes for now." Making one more point before leaving she says, "Good, keep this quiet, not even General Raethcroam, got it!" Dr. Hammond just nods as he blushes. Walking out the President thinks to herself, another meeting to plan a meeting, ugh I am so sick of meetings, meetings, meetings!
Chance of a Lifetime
Dodging cars crossing the street to the Boeing offices in traffic it feels kinda like dodging linebackers running in the ball for a touchdown. Instead of dodging three hundred pound men, carrying a ball and wearing pads, I'm wearing a suit, carrying a portfolio case and dodging cars and UPS trucks. Finally across the street and into the lobby I fish out my ID and interview letter by either side of my face.
Smiling and nodding the security guard knows I have a three minute elevator ride and six minutes to be in the bosses office. As I pass the elevator door, his expression change and hear him say, "Good Luck!" Smoothing out my suit I pull out a paper towel from the gas station to wipe the sweat on my forehead and face.
A quick pass with the comb and I reach into my portfolio case for a bottle of water downing most of it in one gulp. Grabbing an old chocolate peanut putter energy bar I don't even bother to taste as I devour it in one bite. Glad I didn't drink all the water first, stale energy bars are not that tasty. The doors open and that moment is here.
Across from the elevator I can see Mr. Bronson's administrative assistant Ms. Bennett, her smile both comforting and disturbing. As I step out of the elevator and approach Ms. Bennett her smile broadens as if to say I'm the most important person in the room.
"Please come right this way Mr. Gamer, Mr. Bronson has just told me he's ready to see you." Passing the assortment of suit jockeys glaring at me, its comical this row of social elites wearing polished Italian shoes and thousand dollar suits patiently waiting like obedient lapdogs. Under the surface seething with frustration that I'm just walking past them all after getting out of the elevator. Who knows how long they've been waiting, who cares, it's my time to shine now.
"Mr. Gamer", Mr. Bronson says as he raises from his chair to shake my hand and offer me a seat. "Please have a seat." Taking a seat I begin to gather some papers from my portfolio case. "Do you know the difference between an innovator and a procrastinator?" Is his question rhetorical, only a second passes in my pause to consider answering this random question when he answers the question himself. "Opportunity!"
"If I hadn't already read your proposal and had my staff check into you, you wouldn't be sitting here. I'm glad you could make it, I hope rescheduling didn't create any problems for you."
Why would he purposefully change the interview time so that I would have to choose between the flight or the interview? I can see he appreciates having me off guard but I ignore it and give a smirk as I say, "How could I miss this opportunity?"
Laughing Mr. Bronson says, "Joe I like you, your backgrounds fine, the prospectus is well done and may prove lucrative as the proposed cost benefit analysis displays."
With such positive response I feel energized like superman absorbing power from the sun. A smile spreads across my face that I wouldn't remove if I could, until he turns towards me and says, "Threes just one thing." Curious I ask, "What, um, err, what's wrong?" Stammering my composure eroding like a sugar cube in hot coffee.
"Considering that staffing for your company is nonexistent your time frame is vague." This makes me uncomfortable as I begin to answer when he continues, "Your cost estimates for staff is, how shall I put this? Its bullshit!" My expression shifts from that of a confident optimist as I say, "How so?" Replying Mr. Bronson says, "Your expect me to believe your 'company' can test over two hundred games, provide detailed analysis and research documentation, assure compatibility for launch all in less than ninety days, for under nine hundred thousand?"
Playing the part of a confident person, think John Wayne, "YES." His expression softens as his smile finally shows up, "I like that, I think you've got some balls kid."
Relieved I don't have a chance to thank Mr. Bronson for his willingness to take me seriously. "I've had other media management companies with a full staff projecting ten times the cost, taking nine months to a year."
I begin to say thank you as he says at the same time, "Your Hired! From a simple dollars and cents perspective I can invest in your company bid and in the second most expensive company with the best record, and still come in under the highest research firm bid."
Well sometimes things just go right but in ways you don't expect them to turn out right, I guess. Am I under selling the job, am I tackling on too big a project? No, if you want to get noticed sometimes you have to take chances. Before I can go into the acceptance speech I feel my old collection of action figures would have endorsed, Mr. Bronson goes back into full rant mode.
"You'll start tomorrow, I'll need a weekly progress report to keep our important investors up to date." Thinking to myself while the man speaks so fast I have to wonder if he takes breaks to breathe.
"Clients and investors will want media previews of this flight experience, if this works it might expand into traditional flight options. YouTube videos, some Twitter updates whenever, and don't forget the company face book, our test markets still say most people age 28-48 use face book regularly for newsfeed updates and to communicate with family."
Taking in all of this in slow motion like a scene out of a movie, that amount of media representation is a lot of work by itself. Thankfully again before I can get a word in edgewise Mr. Bronson has some eureka moment making a sudden turn.
"No, forget about all of that for now. I want to keep this under wraps for a while, (muttering under his breath assuming I can't hear him in the oversized office from twenty feet away), at least until we find out a competitor will be launching a similar service." Watching Mr. Bronson pacing working out every detail in his mind reminds me of how I look at every angle I can think of when I come up with an idea. "Let's just keep it a simple weekly email for now, I'll tell you when more is needed."
Walking back around to his desk and enormous chair he reaches into a drawer and pulls out a prepared contract. "So here's the contract." Waving it like I'm a dog meant to fetch the stick, do you want the contract, go get it, good boy, now sit.
With a slight tremor in my hand I reach out and take the contract, "Ill assume you have private needs and staff so the short story here is we provide materials and 400k upfront to pay employees and miscellaneous expenses."
Scanning the contract while Mr. Bronson continues his summary. "Upon completion you will receive up to 600k based on the level of satisfaction and completion within the quoted 90 day research span." Glancing over the contract my deadline begins from the time I sign, trying to contain my excitement I say, "Can I look this over for a bit?"
Mr. Bronson shrugs his shoulders and says, "Sure, I can give you 90 seconds, my next meeting is in five minutes so if you don't want a million dollar contract 90 seconds should be enough time to decide." So he plays the forced ultimatum of the rich and powerful card.
I have to respect this guy is no nonsense, giving a quick speed read over some of the less convoluted legal language I understand what's going on in the contract after flipping through a few pages I see work begins now! Using my best Ed McMahon impression I say, "I do believe you are correct, Sir!" Producing a pen from my inner suit jacket pocket I sign the final contract line and proceed to initial in about twelve different places as Mr. Bronson pours two short glasses with what I presume to be fine aged scotch along with three ice cubes each.
"Johnny Blue ok for you?" Mr. Bronson says with a sideways grin while he pushes the glass in my direction. Satisfied Mr. Bronson leans back preparing a pair of fine cigars, "Do you smoke?"
Nipping the tips off his cigar in his scotch I take note and reply, "I quit smoking cigarettes years ago, switched to vape and quit that last year. But that being said I still like a cigar on special occasions. Thank you." Reaching across the desk I can see his watch cost more than I made all last year, as I take the cigar and dip the tip just as Mr. Bronson did a moment ago.
Sitting back in Mr. Bronson's office I feel like a million bucks, taking a sip of the smooth scotch the blue slides down smooth, quite close to my favorite, J B Honey. Thinking about this moment I've finally gotten somewhere, sure I have to pay Steve back and I'll have to hire some play testers but realistically I can just get some college IT students to play test for less than twenty bucks an hour.
Mr. Bronson opens a channel with his administrative assistant and says, "Release the rest of the proposals for the next few months." Taking a break in the conversation for a leisurely cigar drag, "So, Mr. Gamer after this you will need to check into HR, they will set you up with general payroll."
A rolling stone gathers no moss, always active Mr. Bronson tips back his glass with one gulp he swallows his entire glass like a single shot, takes a long drag and snubs the cigar out in a five thousand dollar crystal ashtray after what maybe three or four puffs. Taking the cue to exit I tip back my drink and finish it off as I take another smooth puff from the cigar. I know smoking is terrible but I don't want to put it out much less leave it be after only two puffs.
A look out his main window at the gas station across the street, he knew the moment I arrived. "So, what kind of caddie did you leave at the gas station?" Turning with a smile that says I know you wouldn't find a place to park, I planned it that way. Now that the contract is signed an I have some scotch in me I feel pretty good responding, "2011 CTS-V."
Taking advantage of this short banter to at least get a few more puffs off of the cigar I try to keep the conversation going towards cars. "What kind do you drive?" "I don't." Of course, this guy is rich, driven and never sleeps, he's probably in the back of some limousine making important business calls and keeping up on emails while he rides to and from important places.
Before I say anything he says, "I did buy my son a 2019 ATSX for his birthday last year though, good choice, how many miles is yours at?" Less confident I say, "Eighty-eight thousand." Mr. Bronson gets up and walks around the desk putting a hand down for a solid shoulder pat he says as he stands over me like a coach, "I'll let you know when he's done with it."
Feeling like it's time to go, I know the moment this is over a busy man makes certain his people are busy. Putting out the cigar before I stand this meeting has been different from the typical corporate retail interview, but at this level he already said it if he didn't want me I wouldn't even be here.
With this meeting over Mr. Bronson pushes the line for his administrative assistant, "Ms. Bennett, please direct Mr. Gamer to HR." And like that work goes on. Moments later I'm escorted to the elevator by Ms. Bennett whose expression is too innocent for her little black dress, "So who do I speak to in HR and where is it?"
Ms. Bennett fills me in, I'm not sure if there's a private joke on having the interview delayed but I suppose it's a good way to weed out people lacking motivation, who knows how it would have gone if I were just one minute late. Ten minutes later I'm in HR offices waiting for Chelsea to finish entering my information into the Boeing outsourcing payroll system.
I'm issued a black card for material resources, given account documents for a subsidiary account under JG Services for the initial payout and handed a bag of tech most of which isn't even on store shelves yet. Glancing in the bag everything I mentioned in the prospectus is included along with a selection of prototype gear and a stack of program redemption cards.
Before leaving I get the usual stand here and smile ID card, even at this level some things don't change. Along with my ID Chelsea hands me a document packet including a scheduled medical appointment for tomorrow at 8 am.
Finishing the new employee greeting Chelsea starts speaking while I'm looking over the gear. "All set, here you go, just put that end in the card slot at doors or you'll set off an alarm, and don't go into security clearance sections, as an outsourced service provider you have no security clearance in Boeing facilities. Do you have any questions?" Preoccupied for a moment with the tech goodies I regain my focus and answer, "No, thank you and have a great day Chelsea."
Eager to play with the gear, I remember to call and check on changing my flight. I hope I can get something before noon tomorrow but after the physical at eight. Crossing the street I pass someone by the corner completely covered in silver dressed like Michael Jackson from Moonwalker. I wonder what makes people decide to be a living statue with a coffee can for tips?
At the gas station I get the attendant to break a twenty, afterwards I go back across the street and drop a fin in the bucket, when I do the silver Michael Jackson moves into a different pose catching me off guard for a moment I laugh and see his expression smirk and wink.
Passing cars on the way home I feel more free than ever. Mr. Bronson said he wanted weekly progress reports so If I put in eight hours between now and the flight I can use the flight to field test some of the shorter game experiences on the way down, I can do this. The whole drive home my thoughts are consumed by how to get as much work done as possible without interfering with the trip.
Two hundred games in ninety days, so I play a couple of games a day, do some college research deals to pay students who can hopefully write a decent essay of their experience. Ok I'm getting ahead of myself again, focus Joe, drive home, change flight, get started on work, drink beer, sleep well and wake up to a new day.
Here Comes the Rain
On board the Ambassador Ship Emak prepares to secure dominance in the galaxy when he is interrupted by Senior communications officer Bahneg, "Bahneg, to Emak!" Every moment waiting to seize control Emak grows more frustrated, "What is it!"
Noticing Emak's uncharacteristic behavior Bahneg chooses his words carefully, "The holding barrier, it's gone, Centralus is no more!" Furious at first, "Impossible, what do you mean it's gone, send a query to the home command!"
"I cannot Ambassador Emak! I'm transmitting monitor observations to you." In front of Emak he can see the signal notifying him that Galad was on his way. How could the last transmission sent evade the event horizon of the growing black hole at the center of the galaxy?
Based on the data before him, when Galad activated the Star Drive Engine, the ship was approximately .0102 AU from a magnetic stasis containment core coupling. The gravitational pull fractured the structural integrity, and now within another million years the entire galaxy will become a super massive black hole.
With no stopping it Emak loses focus trying to fit another piece into the puzzle. "Tell no one yet. I must consider how this changes our circumstances." Bahneg is horrified, everything gone without a moment to say goodbye, everyone on board has lost everything from home, but Galad, Galad is here, now. How strange that their entire civilizations savior would only delay galactic destruction until his experiments led to the same fate.
Lost in his own thoughts Bahneg does not notice at first that Emak's message was ended without explanation. With over two thousand years spent on this Ambassador ship following procedures established by Galad and the Galactic Council from home Bahneg recalls, our first duty is to contact Galad.
Considering the unanticipated consequences of Galad's actions, what rules, what laws apply to the creator of the stasis field that has allowed Centralus to exist for the past twenty five thousand years. With an intense need for direction Bahneg gets up from his communications monitor terminal and begins to walk towards Emak's personal quarters, thinking to himself if I am at his door he must answer my questions.
Completed with her tasks and free to individual interests junior technician Ulag decides to depart from standard pursuits to inquire of Emak if she may be of personal assistance. Bahneg and Ulag traveling towards a chance meeting meanwhile on earth millions of people are heading to meetings.
Making final preparations for landing Galad eagerly awaits council with the most advanced leaders of Teran civilization over whatever mysterious delicacies are common at this time. Centralian physiology derives energy from gamma rays therefore the need for sleep, food or other recuperative action was irrelevant.
With the landing course completed and the metabolic transducer suspended in the glucose gum base, Galad prepares his physiology for metamorphosis. Taking on the hybridization Galad's skin no longer emits the same translucent glow, his eyes change to use the limited light band of this small star, internally human physiology forms giving Galad a stabilized digestive system.
The metamorphosis complete in a matter of a few minutes Galad takes a moment to appreciate his efforts, remarkable, exactly like his son, these eyes how intriguing. On board the Ambassador Ship Emak unaware he's about to be interrupted, overrides engineering controls while displaying a passive loop of nominal activity in the engineering display monitor system.
Setting the ship to maximum velocity Emak uses the other added monitor display terminal to override stasis field controls to direct and release the collected asteroids at Tera. At Emak's personal quarters Ulag attempts to project a pleasing appearance to Emak as she uses the alert chime to notify him of her arrival.
Dividing the asteroids by connective masses to strike the largest collections of populations in cascading order Emak makes a slight error as he is interrupted. Rising from the control seat he crosses the floor in a few strides to stand in a guarded position at the entrance. "I did not request your presence..."
While searching his memory for name, rank and title Emak is interrupted for the first time in his life by someone other than his mother or father. "Junior maintenance technician Ulag," tilting her head Ulag continues, "I'm inquiring if there were any tasks I could assist in personally. I'm confident..."
Taking interest at the mention of confidence, such a rare and wonderful trait in an overflowing sea of drones, Emak completes Ulag's intended statement, "You are capable of performing any task without additional direction?" "Yes!" How is it he knows what I'm thinking before I think it, Ulag thinks to herself at the same moment Emak is impressed, how many more can be more than just simple drones onboard this ship?
Before Emak returns to the interior of his personal quarters, around the corner Senior Communications Officer Bahneg approaches determined. Standing in the door way Officer Bahneg ignores the Junior Technician whatever her name is that is irrelevant. "Ambassador Emak."
This is uncharacteristic, Bahneg in person? Emak considers the chances of different yet unique individuals coming to realization of self importance at the same moment in time. "Officer Bahneg, did you have something to report to me?" Already dismissing Ulag as simply another drone following orders of the Ambassador, Bahneg asks, "Yes, our communication ended after you ordered I tell no one, however protocol is to establish communication with Galad?"
That would assume too much. Emak thinks to himself, this one, referring to Bahneg as "this one" in his internal thought, only came to drone on about procedure. "With our home system gone, the Galactic Council gone, and my father Galad the cause there are no procedures to handle what comes next." Amazed, in just a few minutes Ulag has discovered that Centralus is gone, and Galad has caused it?
Standing silent absorbing every detail Ulag listens as Emak continues."Bahneg, I have much to do, you can assist me or be relieved of duty, permanently!" Did he just say that? Both Ulag and Bahneg think to themselves the same five words, with a response required Bahneg chirps, "Yes, Ambassador, I will assist you as instructed."
Dismissing Bahneg Emak says, "Return to post, I will contact you when I am ready to issue another command." With a stoic nod Bahneg says, "Affirmative Emak, I will return to my post and await further commands." Moment later Bahneg returns to his post before he finds out whatever being permanently removed from duty means.
Out of sight and slowing down to a normal pace Bahneg thinks to himself I have to contact Galad, without Emak knowing, but how, and is it worth it, I do not know what to do? So advanced yet completely codependent on everything playing out as Galad has instructed Bahneg locked in his loop, programmed on an if than system still unable to form the "or" variable on his own.
Ulag not so constrained from independent thought has been listening to every word, and with that strong statement from Emak she becomes even more intrigued with Emak, "May we continue, this discussion inside your personal quarters?"
With so much to do its time to see where this is going, wanting to resolve this Emak says, "Yes, come in, you may acclimate to your preference." Entering the personal quarters Ulag takes a seat on the personal resting pad in a stance that does not disagree with Emak's interests.
Sitting beside her Emak asks questions validating her qualifications, "What are your intentions?" Curious at Emak's expression Ulag thinks, what should I say, "Whatever you command, I'm capable of multiple tasks." Continuing the evaluation Emak asks, "In what capacity are you familiar?"
Answering Ulag says, "All areas of ship operations." Already prepared for her answer to be based on procedure Emak asks to be certain, "Why are you only a Junior Repair Technician?" Replying with a sigh, "Procedural norm dictates..."
On Earth Galad's ship lands, American government obscuring the knowledge in every way possible with the help of the men in black. Zedi activates environmental controls bringing together the cloud cover blocking out visible entry. A few dozen stand waiting for first contact with an extraterrestrial Leader from the center of the galaxy no one was aware existed until a few hours ago.
Landing as if this were an everyday lunch meeting Galad emerges from a sculpted exit ramp. Everyone present has the same random series of thoughts, this ship is remarkable, did he bring anyone with him, wow he looks a lot like us, I'm so excited. Standing beneath his ship wearing a magnetic cloak and regeneration suit hovering a few inches from the ground Galad reaches out his arms towards the people waiting to receive him.
Still in awe, shared thoughts continue, everyone present reminiscing, I never guessed this would happen in my lifetime. Resisting his urges to rush forward and converse with this Galad, Dr. Hammond watches a surveillance monitor as Galad lands and emerges from the ship.
On another screen the first IPD has increased speed, Dr. Hammond begins to work out a guidance scenario for this as the IPD on screen stops moving for a moment. Wait, is it, stopping? No, the shield! Now seeing what he feared he begins calculating arrival of the asteroids coming for earth.
Wide eyes dart between the display and calculations on his note pad. Muttering part of what he's thinking out loud as he programs vectors and variables with resistances. "...as velocity meets resistance... pull of other geomagnetic... over six thousand individual asteroids... this will destroy civilization as we know it..." The grim report shows the results on screen, even with atmospheric breakup enough asteroids are coming in global waves.
Mind wandering, printers are never as fast as you want them to be. As soon as the printer completes the report he's into a cart to join everyone headed towards the meeting site for the first and last meeting with Galad. Several thousand asteroids, first impact arriving in a few hours and the final barrage destroying Tokyo sometime around midnight pacific standard time.
Already ahead of him Dr. Hammond reaches his car, abandoning the cart he speeds towards the meeting site hoping to catch up to Galad and the President. In the Presidential Limousine Galad sits looking at this woman reminding him of the wife he found not so long ago. Overjoyed Tera has selected a capable ruler Galad emits an optimistic glow, which does not go unnoticed by the President.
On the Ambassador Ship Emak explains Ulag's role as Operations Commander setting plans for everything to proceed without incident. Engineering, communications and other essential ship controls rerouted to give Emak's consoles control with cover feeds on the onsite monitors.
Making final preparations Emak says, "You must take command of the material resource deck, revise the collection protocols on rescue scenarios and establish the collection process." "How much time do I have?" Emak glances at the monitor showing the disbursement pattern, "With this collision pattern bombardment timing will begin in three hours thirty three minutes."
"First landing teams should be prepared to leave for collection within four hours." Not questioning Emak, Ulag makes a salute gesture as she leaves to prepare collection teams to rescue survivors.
After Ulag leaves Emak begins manipulating documentation to point towards his father. With the records of the Star Drive Ship already setting off a chain reaction destroying the containment field it will be easy to blame the asteroids on the Star Drive Ship's magnetic pull. If anyone questions me I will have all the evidence I need to show the crew we are steadfast in duty to unite the outer planets of this galaxy. We will restore Tera, after securing survivors of course, Emak assures himself.
Naleg and Soleg notice within a matter of minutes they're viewing a forced feed replay of a previous record. Before leaving they develop a plan to advance as Emak's direct assistants. While going to present this data to Emak in person Soleg is apprehensive, "He's already put Bahneg on report." "Nothing's been filed."
Naleg points out before continuing, "Bahneg said a Junior Repair Technician was with Emak. If we offer direct assistance we may advance, I have been looking at the same monitor for over a thousand years and I want to do something different. We recognized the communications, Emak may have unique duties for us."
Arriving Naleg and Soleg stand patiently after activating the door notification. Marveling at the brilliance of his plan Emak ponders as he answers the door, now who could this be? Pleased to see Communication Officers Naleg and Soleg. Emak wonders, perhaps more are ready to take action instead of maintaining the scheduled course parameters which are pointless now anyway. "What do your inquire? I'm quite busy."
With a confident calm tone Naleg asks, "May we enter your personal quarters, Ambassador Emak?" After they're waved in, Naleg starts, "Ambassador Emak, Soleg and I have recognized that a previous record has been displaying on our monitors for most of the last hour."
Of course they would notice my work, Emak acknowledges internally before speaking with authority, "Yes I have taken control of those systems." Cautious not to lose his attention Naleg says, "If I could be of direct assistance I'm quite familiar with communication signal transmissions as is Soleg." Aware Naleg and Soleg are quite experienced with communication Emak asks a few questions to determine if they will be loyal.
Moments later Naleg and Soleg have been informed by Emak what has happened to everyone and everything on Centralus, about the meteorites dragged from the belts orbit as well as Tera awaiting terrible devastation. Naleg's sense of duty building he thinks, how could this all happen Galad created the stasis field? Soleg's sense of suspicion increases, something is not logical, what is it?
At any rate the time to chose is now, work at his side or forever be cast aside, Soleg and Naleg make the same choice to man the communications consoles in Emak's personal quarters for their own different reasons.
With capable communication officers loyal to my goals this will be much easier, thinking to himself Emak finishes his sustenance ready for a moment to rest before the show begins. Soleg wonders how he can do anything to stop Emak with nothing he can do but watch and hope that Galad is not destroyed in the asteroid barrage.
Naleg, again sitting in front of a communication monitor terminal is relieved that while Bahneg sits watching nothing he's in charge of communications now. Racing to reach the President and Galad, Dr. Hammond arrives to the Lake Tahoe Squaw Ridge Conference Center behind them. At the same time the President and Galad exit the limousine. Dr. Hammond rushes towards the President. Seconds before he is shot by her Secret Service guards the President gives a subtle all clear signal keeping them on guard watching and waiting for any moment.
At her ear Dr. Hammond whispers, "I have to talk to you, in private, now!" Moments later inside the Conference Center Dr. Hammond tells her and Galad. This changes everything as the President prepares her introduction speech which may be her last speech.
Through the Looking Glass
Finally on my home street I pull into the cul-de-sac greeted by a surreal amalgamation of Americana past and present simply going about typical daily business. Mrs. Stewart retrieving her daily assortment of junk mail while the Davis bunch pile into their minivan headed off to the local soccer field. Across the street from my house, Cletus out of time and place, a relic of the past like some character from, "Where the Red Fern Grows", sits in an old rocking chair on his front porch.
An old blood hound sleeps by his side, Cletus focused on his daily routine runs a cleaning rod down a barrel of his trusty shotgun. On the other side sits a cooler filled with beer, a knife and a chunk of wood waiting to become what it was meant to become.
Pulling into my driveway I watch the clock turn to three o'clock. Thinking about Rachel I wonder if she's getting close to L.A. while grabbing the bag of goodies from the passenger seat. Through the front door I pull off the suit jacket and toss it on the arm of the couch.
Opening my Expedia app scrolling through available flights at first I'm frustrated nothing with a direct connecting flight to Cancun, so I continue checking for flights to L.A. so I can get a connecting flight or just drive down to Mexico. After more searching I'm relieved to find a 4:20 Red Eye flight tomorrow morning. As I'm booking and confirming the flight I can hear my printer starting to print my ticket for tomorrow. With that done I check if I have any recent messages and find one.
Rachel took another cloud pic from the window seat passing San Francisco, I tap like and look over to the bag sitting on the coffee table. Opening the bag of fresh gear I set some of the things out on the table in front of me. Pacing, waiting for something to happen or some clear sense of direction my stomach tells me to grab a bite to eat.
Heading to the kitchen I grab the box of granola bars from the cabinet and pull one out and set the box on the counter, opening the refrigerator I grab a Skateraid and head back to the couch. Setting the Skateraid down before sitting down fanned out like a deck of cards are dozens of download vouchers for games needing review. Chewing the whole granola bar while I sift through the vouchers with little interest as I also look over some of the equipment. In a sleek smoke grey case are a set of ringed gloves sitting next to them a cardboard package to the prototype Note X Bluetooth goggles. Finished with the granola bar I take a big drink of my Skateraid.
"TV, Discovering Future." A moment after saying this my TV flickers on my front window as the screen shifts from the view of my neighbors to an old episode of the Historic channel's Monolithic Aliens program. "Monolithic alien theorists believe..." Looking over the table at all the goodies I'm excited to begin while the show gives hollow promises mixed with sprinkle of real insight on U.S. war game alien invasion scenario calculations...
Before reaching for the box my phone chimes, "Jungle Boogie", one of the revolving alerts for Rachel, already smiling I answer the phone. "Hey baby." Her voice sounds like music to my ears, "Just touched down in L.A. Sorry I can't talk long were boarding right away for the connecting flight." Already prepared for this I'm just disappointed I have to tell her my flights not until early tomorrow morning.
"That's ok babe, I've got good news and bad news do you want me to try and fit it all in now?" A second goes by and she responds, "What's the bad news?" "I won't be able to leave until tomorrow morning." Always optimistic she's smiling on the other side of the line when she says, "That's great! Steve and Bonnie have been booking restaurants' and events since we left Seattle. Tomorrow night you'll be eating fresh sword fish steak!"
Looking forward to everything I barely have a second to respond when Rachael asks, "So the good news must be you got the job?" Grinning I say in my best Butthead impression, "Yesth!!"
Her flight must be going soon because already she's being ushered through and being told to turn her cell phone off. The TSA guard standing with not one bit of emotion, the best poker face ever. As if androids were already a reality, secretly being used in unique situations any regular person would not subject themselves to working such a tedious job that could become dangerous any second.
"K babe, gotta go, love ya lots!" Attempting to echo her sentiment the line is already dead before I can respond. The commercial break playing the latest 1-800-OUR-BADD if our medication gave you blah blah blah, you may be entitled to blah blah blah, tuning out the gibberish I finally reach for the box.
Gone are the bulky straps and head set mount for a phone, streamlined with dedicated lenses shrouded sleekly like a pair of wraparound sunglasses with noise canceling headphones attached. Looking again at the box a serial number applied by a rubber stamp shows a letter and number designation: PT1A0XETSP01BUSDODX1 In the background the TV has finally finished the shill report.
Playing the episode of Monolithic Aliens, "If aliens came to earth it would not necessarily be to open communication. They may see us the way we see insects..." Eager to get started I reach for the ringed gloves, opening the sleek smoke grey case I reach in and grab a glove to slip on my hand.
Feeling snug with open finger tips nothing indicates who the manufacturer is. Fitting like a cross between leather driving gloves and spandex shorts worn by some cyclists. The only thing visible are some clear plastic coated wiring indicating how motion detection is relayed. Under the gloves there's a folded up sheet of paper. Reading the note it says the gloves are powered by kinetic energy, to use put on, move hands repeatedly, have blue tooth enabled smart phone or computer find device (NIMBLE) follow instructions for sync.
After that there are no real instructions however there is a very stern command written in all capital red letters three times the size of the rest of the text on the page; THIS IS A NONDISCLOSURE AGREEMENT.
VIOLATION OF SAID AGREEMENT WILL BE PUNISHABLE BY A PRISON SENTANCE OF NO LESS THAN 50 YEARS.
A FINE OF NO LESS THAN 1 BILLION DOLLARS, OR BOTH AT THE DISCRESSION OF A COURT OF LAW SELECTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.
What the hell did I just get myself into, is this shit for real? The legal disclosure information in black type goes on and on with numerous locations to initial date and sign. With all the concern of a kid with a new game console I toss this contract aside and pick up the stack of download vouchers. Thumbing through one crosses my eye and catches my attention, G4M3R5 N1GH7M4R3.
Well at this point one game's as good as the next, I might as well start with the one with the most interesting title. Before I can even load the game I have to install the memory card and sim card for the phone.
Next I have to log into some USDOD logon site and select yes ok or I swear blah blah blah for the next ten minutes.
After that the screen goes black, flickers, and shows a load screen with the seal of the National Security Administration. Shortly afterwards the screen pans back to show a dozen seals of important security agencies and military branches with one final disclosure that indicates now I am government property. During this my interest diverted back to the TV, "IBS Science." A moment later the TV flickers, "Tonight look to the..."
In between bits and pieces of the background TV broadcast I keep going with the process of apparently becoming a non-disclosed private contractor for government agencies domestic and abroad. "A marvelous meteor shower..." OK, well that's cool but according to another lengthy and scary NDA segment, I cannot inform anyone of my association or involvement with any government agency or the wrath of Zeus will come down and blah blah. "Keep looking up to the stars..."
Finally after all the fear programming the install menu indicates to put on the gloves, goggles, and sync both devices with the phone.
Another NDA explains in lengthy and boring detail that government agencies can and will monitor my actions blah blah blah. Putting the goggles on finally, "IBS brings quality programming..." I fix the ear cups over my ears and a series of menu commands are displayed while an audio command chimes off, "Stand up. Sit down. Look up. Look left. Look right. Look down. Raise your left hand. Raise your right hand. Stand up. Turn left. Take one step forward."
The entire time the screen stops displaying the words as they are spoken while a wire frame image of my house interior is first scanned and then displayed while the audio commands continue.
"Turn right. Take one step forward. Move forward three steps. Turn right. Run forward six steps. Stop. Turn Left. Open the door. Enter room. Turn on light."
This program mapping my house, for safety purposes but this is different from the other location mapping programs I've experienced using VR. None of the other programs had me walk, run or open doors.
I'm excited about this level of immersion when the dreaded loading screen overlays my screen image of me looking in the bathroom mirror while wearing the headset and goggles.
On the screen overlay the command words show, "Please retrieve secured mobile device." I'm assuming I can just walk back to the living room to get my phone, finally not disappointed the command fades showing the wire frame image of my hallway as I walk to the living room to get my phone. At the moment I grab my phone for some odd reason the screen goes black forcing me to use my free off hand to pull the goggles from my eyes.
Meeting the Tin Man
Looking through the front window what should be a beautiful view of the downtown Portland skyline, a kind of terror no one ever thought would happen, at least not in my lifetime is what I've always told myself. Massive meteors the size of Buicks sail through the sky in groups of three, standing dazed watching explosions erupting all over the city I spot what looks like a giant oil freighter floating in the sky towards a space spared from the barrage.
Landing somewhere beyond the tree line just out of sight, it looks like the Davis family soccer match has been called, I hope they found somewhere safe to hide, is anywhere safe to hide? Beyond the tree line beams of light come from the landing site, frightened, turning I go through the kitchen out the back door.
A few strides across the yard and over the fence. Scrambling to return to my feet I find the hikers path down the hill to the opening of a large drainage culvert. Crossing the path I can see the unlocked grate is propped open with the bottom laying on the ground. Even though I have no idea what's going on the air is filled with sounds of explosions, alarms, sirens and the screams of who knows how many people.
Lost in the present, unable to focus clearly, shock and awe struck as I feel the ground shake from a set of meteor impacts, standing amidst leaves and an assortment of random yard waste. Crossing over my foot without even a passing glance I spot a rat aware of self preservation it scurries into the opening of the culvert.
Hunkering down below the top gate I look into the maintenance tunnel as the sounds above get closer. A shotgun blast followed by a second tells me Cletus has made his last stand. I can picture him hopping down from his rocking chair in a rage, "Git off my land you varmint!" Standing his ground like Yosemite Sam.
A scream not like any I've ever heard echoes as a humming sound fills the air, hairs on my arm stand on end, within the same second a sound, "Snikk!" The humming sound fades replaced by odd gargled grunts bring me to my senses enough to get away from the entrance.
Shuffling through the debris my eyes finally adjust to the light difference, pausing in the darkness. I can feel orders vibrating inside my bones. "Do not attack, come forward, follow us." The command stern but not hostile, my body tingling as if I'm being pulled towards the source, forced to obey.
Are they going to help us? Why the meteor strikes? Variables cycling through my mind suppress the urge to submit. The brief sharp sound of metal dropping on concrete pique my interests further down the maintenance tunnel.
Echoing for only a second I flinch and immediately recognize the rat didn't make that sound. Peering down the tunnel the subtle outline of movement is followed by the shuffling sound of cloths.
Above and inside the tunnel the mute button to life's remote eliminates all sound but the rhythmic thud of my heart pounding in my ear. More afraid of what's outside the tunnel deciding my next move was clear, "Hello! I don't want to hurt you! I'm scared Too!" Waiting for a reply I do not receive the answer I wanted.
A rapid movement in the dim red glow of emergency lighting is punctuated by the noticeable sound of a shotgun being cocked. Time pauses when a shotgun is level with your face. Across from me I focus my eyes on the grisly appearance of a man holding a shotgun glaring back at me wearing a dirty over coat and some strange helmet made from pie tins and aluminum foil. "What do you want? Why are you in my home?" Humor lost in his eyes, covered in grime from head to toe, I stammer trying to choose each word.
"Its, its total chaos outside man, meteors are exploding and aliens..." Muttering to himself the bum lowers the shotgun, no longer glaring at me instead with a knowing look he says, "Get out."
Hunkered down in maintenance tunnel away from everything I held dear minutes ago, a bum waving a shotgun at me again, "If you brought them in here after you..." interrupting him I blurt out, "No, I left for the culvert as soon as I saw some ship land."
Dropping the shotgun to the ground this time he fidgets in his coat to retrieve a metal flask, swinging his head back he drains the flask, replaces the cap, returns it to his coat and picks up the shotgun. "You don't have any booze or smokes on ya do ya?" I'm confused at how he went from waving a shotgun in my face to asking me for cigarettes and booze. Still uneasy I reply, "No, but I've got half a granola bar in my pocket." Making some odd face like I said something disgusting he just says, "Pass!"
"So that's what all the ruckus was outside, huh?" Already this guy's acting like nothing's happened. I wonder how long this old man has been isolated from the outside world, ignorant of the mundane commonplace actions of society. Ignoring me he turns and begins walking while muttering to himself.
With nowhere to go I follow him trying to listen to what he's rambling. Several feet down the tunnel after some internal rant this man appears to be struggling with he pauses to sit on a crate, looking up at me, "So were all fucked huh? I have just one question."
Lost for words I say, "OK." Raising one eyebrow with a sneer he asks while pointing to his tin foil hat, "How did you, um, ya know, resist their mind control?" With all the conviction of a man absent choice I answer, "I took a second to think about it." Still pointing to his hat, "That's it?! But you're not shielded."
Without answers I wave around at the tunnel, "I don't know maybe the signal was weakened by being down here in the tunnel, either way were still here, so there must be other survivors somewhere." Sitting and thinking, before I start to speak again, "Names Dennis, what's yours?" "Joe.", "Nice theory you've got there Joe, but I'm not going anywhere, at least not for now." Sitting in front of me the perfect vagabond stereotype complete with tin foil hat of course has no interest in action.
Frustrated I start, "We can't just stay here." "I can, you've got to find your own place." Replying with a smirk Dennis lights a cigarette butt he pulls from his inner coat pocket as I ask, "How will you get food and water?" Already feeling thirsty and with nothing to drink my priorities shift from shelter to food and water. "The same way I always have."
This crazy old coot's already one step ahead. "How do I get out of here?" Asking hoping for an alternative to the way I came in, "The same way you came in.", no luck there. "What about the other end?" Quick to reply Dennis say's, "Grates closed." "Will you help me open it?" "Why?"
This constant back and forth without progress is pissing me off, this guy is like some homeless Buddha of laziness. Fed up with Dennis I lose my cool for a moment, "Because the other end of this tunnel opens to an empty highway and the neighborhood I JUST LEFT!" Shouting the last few words provides a subtle influence as he lowers his eyebrow before asking, "Ya think they're still up there?" Without any idea I say, "How should I know?"
Getting up Dennis walks over to a doorway walking into a utility room. Inside he's made it into his own studio apartment complete with a bed, table, chairs, sofa and TV, in the Kitchen area he has several electronic cooking items and a fridge. Dennis bows as he says, "Welcome to my humble abode."
Walking over to a standing locker Dennis opens it to grab a bottle of Jack to refill his flask, waving towards a dingy glass he gestures at the small amount of Jack left in the bottle and says, "A little liquid courage for ya?" I take a few steps over to the glass and ask, "Ice?" Dennis nods towards the fridge, "Ice tray's in the fridge."
Looking over at the fridge time forgot I retrieve an old ice tray and drop a few ice cubes in the small tumbler glass. The ice cubes adding their two cents, "Clink, clank, bink, dinka, dink, dink."
Setting the glass down to return the ice tray to the fridge Dennis retrieves the glass, pours in a couple shots, winks at me and says, "Thanks.", as he sets the bottle back down an nudges it in my direction.
Reclining in a Lazy Boy that's more duct tape than leather Dennis wears a satisfied grin. I look around for another glass and quickly notice there isn't one. Realizing Dennis is smarter than society would give him credit I take a seat and claim the shot or two left in the bottle.
"What can I say or do to get you to help me?" I ask after drinking about half of what was left in the bottle. Dennis tips back the rest of his glass he managed to con me into preparing for him, smoking cigarette butt after cigarette butt pulled from a bag of butts collected from ash trays.
The moment stretches on in an uncomfortable silence while Dennis sits reeking of booze and relit cigarettes deciding what to say, "Seriously kid?" Finally responding with a dumbfounded look Dennis continues, "You're asking me, you haven't already figured out what I'd want? I already asked you if you got any booze or smokes! Ignorant rich assholes never notice nothin'." With nothing but a half eaten granola bar I say, "I already told you all I have is half a granola bar.", pulling the bar out of my pocket and waving it in front of Dennis only pisses him off more.
"Well, Get some!" Feeling helpless I reply, "How?!" This only inspires him to yell at me some more. "Lord almighty, boy how slow are ya? Go up top, scrounge around or did your mommy and daddy hand ya everything on a silver platter?"
Losing my shit after that comment I have a few choice words of my own to share. "Are you fucking nuts? Wait don't answer, by the angle of the Jiffy Pop logo on your 'protective helmet', I already know that answer!"
I must have crossed the line with the Jiffy Pop comment because Dennis face looks like a fire hydrant ready to blow, unleashing a stream of fifty years of frustration in a tidal wave of emotion.
"Oh, so the guy whose had it easy thinks I'm crazy. So where are the rest of your "not crazy", sane society of bigots, perverts, racists and closet psychos? I'll tell ya, they're all marching like cattle into those big cargo ships you say landed on the little league field! You might have been ahead of the curve son but that was an hour ago." Pausing for a moment Dennis takes a breath to ready himself for the next part of his sermon.
In full rant mode Dennis keeps going, "Right now I'm the most well prepared person on this mud ball whether ya think my Jiffy Pop helmet works or not! I was and am ahead of you and your fucking "normal" society! I've already seen the schemes and I knew what was coming, maybe not a hundred percent, but enough to be in here when the shit hit the fan!"
Waving around at the room in between screaming and making air quotations Dennis finishes his rant, "So if you're not too fuckin' busy congratulating your pitiful excuse for survival instincts maybe you could man up and do something for me before you ask me to risk all this! It might not be much to you but it's a hell of a lot more than you got right now!"
Thinking back to the rat scurrying over my foot I feel like a fool for not finding a better spot to hide so that I could see what's going on, instead I ran like a coward. He's got a point, why should he help me if I'm not going to help him? "Ok, let me get this straight, I go find you booze and cigarettes and then you'll help me get the other side open?"
"Yup!" Without even a second between my question and his answer I start thinking my options over, I could just grab the pole arm at the other end and try to open it myself but how long has the west side been closed, the hinges could be rusty and stiff. "Ok, I'll do it." "Be careful on your way out."
Nodding as I choose not to thank Captain obvious on the way out for all his self serving wisdom. As soon as I'm past the door the sound of locks clicking telling me Dennis is faster than he appears. Like a grumpier, dirtier more fed up version of Yoda and this drainage culvert tunnel is his Dagobah. Moving towards the east entrance I listen for any sound.
Reaching the entrance everything takes on an eerie silence, the smell of ozone in the air familiar to anyone whose fixed a radio or computer. Looking past the grate before I exit it's like time stands still with no sight of anything I wonder if it's worth the risk to fetch Dennis booze and cigarettes, or just take off? Deciding I'm still better off with whatever help Dennis can give.
Coming out from inside the culvert tunnel, looking around seeing nothing and no one I walk to the path entrance to my cul-de-sac, down the street there's something in front of Cletus's house. Walking up the lonesome trail to my empty neighborhood this might as well be taken from a movie.
The once beautiful skyline of Portland on fire, what is even more weird is the sirens are gone, everything is silent. The cul-de-sac untouched by the meteors that destroyed Portland and who knows where else. Getting closer an alien lies with a pipe cleaner standing up out of the left eye socket, I guess Cletus didn't go without a fight.
Glancing over about ten yards away, only a few feet from the front porch a shotgun lays in his vaporized remains. Stepping up to the front door I look over to the small wooden crate used as a small table, an open box of shotgun shells next to Cletus's latest wood carving and several loose shells lie scattered on the porch. His floppy hat sits in his place on the rocking chairs narrow seat, turning up on the edges where the arm rests hold it in place.
I wonder what I'll see since I've never been inside Cletus's house, stepping over the shattered glass of his last beer I open the door and step inside. On the main wall of the living room is a large picture of Cletus and his family on a Gator Farm down south, hanging on a nail inside the door is an alligator tooth necklace, cool. Something tells me to take the necklace, so I pull it off the nail and slip the necklace over my head.
Weird, the only signs Cletus lived in this house are the large family photo and an alligator tooth necklace, the other furniture is modern, walking into the kitchen its spotless. In the fridge there's an assortment of half opened dog food, chili and beef stew cans, a six pack of bud and a pretty fresh bottle of John Bean next to some spoiled milk.
Rummaging around I find an old paper sack under the sink, in it are empty beer bottles that I toss into the garbage and I grab the beer and JB. Taking a moment to look through the cupboards I find a dozen or so cans of chili, beef stew and dog food along with a half dozen boxes of rice-a-foni, instant grits & macaroni and cheese.
None of the box food holds my interest as my mind playing tricks on me I think for a second that I hear a dog bark outside. Leaving I reach into my pocket and grab my phone to take a picture of the Gator Farm because someone should remember him, if for nothing more than standing his ground.
Stepping out of the house I go to the crate and grab the shotgun shells, as I look over a carton of Karlbro's and a few more boxes of shotgun shells. Taking all the ammo and picking up the loose shells I put them in the bag and put the crumpled hat on top. Walking down the steps Cletus tried to fire both barrels at the alien at the same time.
One barrel still holding the pipe cleaner when he caught the alien off guard before I go over the aliens body I look at the shotgun to see if it's worth taking.
No luck, the trigger and stock vaporized along with Cletus, only the barrel and receiver remain. If it weren't for the odd orange color blood and the blue tint to the organs protruding from the gaping hole in its chest this alien might be mistaken for Andre the Giant with bigger ears and a wider jaw.
Hungry and thirsty I cross the street to my house, considering just taking the car I remember I still don't have a clue what to do. Going inside I grab my backpack off the couch and go to my kitchen. In the fridge I grab a bottle of Skateraid, three bottles of water and a bottle of orange juice leaving the milk and other perishable food.
Out of my cupboard I grab the few granola bars and bag of pretzels. Leaving the canned food and other boxed just add whatever stuff I head out the front door carrying a bag for Dennis and my backpack for myself. Something tells me I'd better get back to Dennis before he gets blackout drunk. He might have some restraint but with all that's happened I'm not counting on it.
One for the Road
Heading back to Dennis, odd silence punctuated by the faint distant hum and a slight tingling sensation. "Do not attack, come forward, follow us." The urge to go towards them is barely noticeable the tingle only lasts for an instant. Passing the Davis's empty driveway I follow the trail to the culvert, looking towards the desolate highway side you wouldn't even know anything happened at all.
At the door I give a couple of solid bangs on it, on the other side I can hear Dennis grumbling. "Took him long enough, yeah hold your horses!" The click of locks are followed by the door being swung wide open, as Dennis mumbles to himself, "Shoot I thought he was dead." Passing through the doorway anticipating whatever I was able to gather for him. "So whatcha get?"
Opening the bag I pull out a carton of Karlbro's, the six pack of bud and the bottle of JB. Grabbing the cigarettes and JB a broad smile crosses his face for the first time since I've met him. Reaching for a single bottle of bud I pull my multi tool out of my pocket to use the bottle opener, Dennis chuckles as he grabs a bottle and uses the bottom of his bic lighter to pop the cap off at me.
"Didja find anything else?" Answering Dennis I say, "Just some shells and a gun cleaner." pulling these out of the bag I set them on the small table, when I look up I notice a set of service maps on the wall by the fridge. "Hey Dennis?" Lowering the beer for a moment Dennis says, "Yeah?" "How current are those service maps?" "One's new the other two are pretty old, why?"
Looking at the tunnel service maps I get an idea I tell Dennis, "Well the culvert map shows this culvert drains down the hill with a parallel sewer line at the bottom of the hill that joins Beaverton and parts of Portland's original sewer system." While I'm not totally excited about crawling through the sewers at least it's an option.
"If I have to hide underground I can use the maps to get around to stores." Dennis chuckles again already reaching for a second beer, "Ok I get it, you've got some pretty lil thing to get back to, huh?" Taking a few pics and finishing off my beer I grab a second bud and put the other two in the fridge.
Leaning back drawing a long swig my mind wanders to sipping Beer on white sandy beaches with Rachael. "Yeah, I do, I was going to propose this weekend to her on the beach in Cancun." What are the chances she made it to Cancun or even the LA connection, is she still alive and if she is where? Can I ever hold her again, if hope is lost what's left?
Dennis eying me while I give him a smirk, "So I suppose your gonna make me ask what it was like when you went back up?" After he asks I reply, "It was quiet, like everyone was gone even the sounds of sirens I heard on my way into the tunnel were silent."
Dennis starts up, "Shit, I knew it! They're taking us! Egypt has returned..." Blathering on with some incoherent conspiracy theories I wonder where he's running off with my imagination this time.
Dennis rolls through them like some rolodex of possibilities, unable to single in on one with any sense of coherence. Using a moment while Dennis had to breathe, "On the way back I heard a humming and felt a tingling while something willed me to go towards them."
Giving me an odd wink as he points to his helmet, "I didn't feel a thing, and the only time I did was when they were on your street right above us." Rolling my eyes I think of anything to steer the conversation away from useless theories that suppose this manipulation has been going on for thousands of years. I can't help but laugh as Dennis leaps from his lazy boy and begins to dance around his cave of alien conspiracy news clippings.
Elated that on some level despite everyone doubting him, he was right. "So what's your plan man?" Dennis draws out the word plan, no matter what I have to at least try, thinking to myself before I say, "I can't stay, I've got to know what happened to Rachael." Dennis rolls his eyes while I finish. "No phone, TV or Radio on yet, I checked while you were searching around up top."
Satisfied with the situation Dennis says, "How about we open the west end?" Dennis starts for the door as if he was just waiting for me to get to the point so he could go on being a hermit. An instant before going out the door he grabs a large handlebar and heads down the tunnel leaving the door propped open with the crate he sat down on earlier.
Down the tunnel the light on the other end is dimmed by the trees growing on the hillside, as I get closer I notice the access panel. Only a few feet from the grate I can see through the grate past the tree line. As one of the freighter ships takes off over the trees out of sight another comes in to take its place. Dennis fits the handle bar into a notched opening on the side of the entrance.
For some reason Dennis looks back at me, noticing my staring out at the tree line he takes a look for himself. Together we watch the giant floating cargo container land in the little league field. Giving me a worried look Dennis says, "You sure you don't want to wait till dark?" With them landing I'm certain their going to be sending that control signal again, "It can wait."
Dennis expression changes to relief as he takes his hand off the handle, "You want to finish off those beers with me while you're waiting?" Glad for the offer I say, "Sure maybe it'll take the edge off." Grinning Dennis says, "Well sure it'll take the edge off, hell it's the least I can do since you brought me a month's worth of smokes."
Walking back into the small room Denis walks over to the fridge and grabs a couple beers handing one to me. In one fluid motion Dennis takes a pack out of the carton raising the open pack to his mouth he grips one cigarette with his lips, returns the pack to his pocket, pulls out a his lighter, lights his cigarette and pops the cap off the beer before returning the lighter to his pocket.
With a smug grin he says, "Way I see it your gonna need this shotgun more than I will, or if you prefer I have a pistol with a few clips and bullets. Either way your gonna need some protection if you expect to make it." I've never had a gun before, at least not a real one. Evaluating the options; the shotguns a lot more powerful than a pistol and with the full box of shells I brought I'd have more ammo.
Debating I consider the time a shotgun takes to shoot and reload, remembering Cletus as a pile of ash. "I'll take the pistol." How hard can it be I've played dozens of first person shooters over the past three decades if not hundreds. Dennis reaches down to his side to pull out an old ammo case, opening it he pulls out the pistol.
Handing over the pistol empty Dennis reaches back into the ammo case to fish out three clips, "Here's three clips, they've got different bullets in each clip. The first has regular ammo, ya got four hollow points and a pair of armor piercing in the last clip." Saying this with a mischievous smile I say to him, "
Thanks, I hope I don't have to use these. If you don't mind me asking, why do you have three different types of ammo for the same gun?"
Pausing for a moment as he decides to answer Dennis says, "Well those are some strange stories if you have enough time to kill." "How'd you get the armor piercing bullets?" Looking off towards nothing Dennis says, "If you want to leave before dark I could still tell you about the other two."
Considering my time I don't want to push Dennis after all the help. "Ok what about the regular ammo?" Primed for the story Dennis say, "Found a cop sleeping one night, lifted it and ran back to my alley." With the snicker he probably had been watching the cop waiting for just the right moment. "Ok what about the hollow points?" "Those I lifted off a dead gang member down in LA before I came north, life's cheap."
While I'm stashing the gun and clips in my bag under my extra socks and shorts Dennis grabs a bottle of Beefy's London Dry Gin from his fridge handing it to me he says, "Here, you're gonna need some alcohol if you're gonna have an adventure."
Walking over to a small tool chest he pulls out a roll of duct tape and a bunch of gauze bandages, from another compartment he grabs a hand full of shop rags and grabs the empty beer bottles from the trash bucket.
Shoving them into my hands he says, "You use the gauze and duct tape for bandages if you need 'em, and use the bottles and rags to make Molotov cocktails with the Gin."
Gathering the bottles I wrap the rags around them individually and put them in the bag on top of my spare shirt and put the gauze and duct tape in the front pocket. Taking my bag up onto my shoulders careful not to be rough with the bottles, I turn to Dennis and tell him, "Above the houses have plenty of boxed and canned food I'm not sure about stuff in the fridges, you'll find some food and water whenever you're ready to go up topside again."
With a nod and a wink Dennis says, "Good luck boy, can't say if I'll stay or not but if I never see you again thanks for sitting with me for a while." The last thing he said tells me he appreciated my company, why would he isolated himself from everyone? Who can say, maybe he'd lost it long ago and seeing me brought something back.
Going Shopping
Walking down the tunnel towards the west end the sky is calm as head to the lever Dennis left behind for me. Beyond the grate the setting sun is amazing. The colors made more intense by the smoke from blazing meteor crash sites. In spite of all the destruction this view is one I'll never forget.
Pulling down on the lever the grate bottom folds down and a lift bar props up the top grate just like on the other side. Passing through, leaving the security and comfort of Dennis and his bunker, I can just barely recognize the cargo ship at the little league field. The aliens from this distance are surrounded by rows of people. I wonder if someone I bought groceries from or the kid who drops off my weekend paper is down there.
As I move closer a group of people are being taken into the ship. Moments later the aliens board, all the ramps and doors close as an orange light begins to glow from panels under the cargo ship. A moment later the air is filled with the smell of ozone as the hairs on my arm raise.
Electromagnetism, harmonics what is the link between them that lets this cargo ship levitate into a vertical takeoff without emitting thrust like a rocket or jet engine? Just like before as one ship leaves another arrives.
Sightseeing's over, with another ship arriving I go down the hillside dodging blackberry bushes and trees. Arriving to the bottom without any scrapes I climb over the concrete wall and drop down.
Walking to the front of the strip mall cars are all over just sitting with open doors. In front of the outdoor shop I look in the door of an old pickup truck, no keys in the ignition I take a look at the visor for a spare and find nothing. I wonder if all the vehicles are missing keys. In the outdoor shop, on the register station counter sits a random assortment of camping gear still waiting to be purchased.
On the side of the register facing the door is a display knocked over with bottle openers, key chains and other random novelty crap. Looking over the items on the counter sits; a survival hunting knife, some fishing waders, a camp stove, and a bunch of disposable propane canisters.
Leaning over the counter to look in the bag; some fishing lures, fishing line, weights, bait and bobbers, all the normal stuff for a fishing trip. Taking my backpack off to get a better set up I think about what I should take to prepare myself. I'm not going to need propane or fishing waders so I push them aside to make a clear space on the counter.
I open my backpack and take everything out setting it on the counter, before I go shopping. The first isle I notice, across from the cash register is a snacks display stocked on one side with nuts, trail mix, jerky, energy bars and other camping snacks. Sharing the display is a selection of energy super camping drinks for the person who wants to spend six bucks a pop on a dozen drinks for an overnighter in the Winnebago.
In the actual isle next to the snacks are water purifiers, iodine tablets, vitamin supplements and a display featuring sever books and outdoor magazines. The fishing section takes up the rest of the isle on both sides with supplies all the way from beginner to equipment to catch some big fish.
The other side of the fishing isle is where they keep the paintball guns, air soft rifles, targets and ammo for non-ballistic fire arms. On the wall behind the counter is a display of assorted rifles. shotguns and hunting crossbows.
In the glass are some small arms and various scopes as well as the for sale ammo. Over on the wall between the outdoor shop and the liquor store is a large selection of; fishing waders, hunting jackets, winter gear, tents, sleeping bags, cots, air beds and camping mats.
Looking at my cloths I decide first to head over to the clothing section to pick out a solid pair of camo cargo's and some ever dry socks and underwear. Looking over the hiking boots I find a good pair of Wolf Claw Boots that fit well which I lace up tight.
Flipping through the jackets and hunting vests I find one with lots of pockets that fits well under a North Farce all-weather thermal zip hoodie. Feeling more comfortable dressed in the hunting gear I return to the gun case, while I appreciated being given the pistol by Dennis I can't help but think a brand new gun would be better.
With a wide selection I find one that fits my hand well while it used the same 9mm caliber the gun felt more balanced with a mount for any kind of sight or scope and a rubberized hand grip. After a few minutes I gather some extra clips, ammo, a red dot laser sight and a belt holster that will hold the gun with the laser sight already attached. Silence surrounds me, I know I've got to keep moving, it's the only way I'll ever know if Rachael made it.
Looking over at my old supplies laid out in front of the Jam Sport backpack I've had since high school I notice the dirty rags, the dingy grey gauze pads, with a roll of fraying duct tape I think I'll leave the stuff I doubt I'll need. With whatever journey is ahead I decide to find a large camping backpack with a frame to help with a heavy pack.
Taking my pick of the first aid kits and snack foods I pack up everything snug with some extra thermal blankets while I glance through the shop window to a weird creepy stillness. All loaded up and ready to go heading out past the liquor store and smoke shop.
As I walk I pass a travel agency, a cell phone store, a Mexican restaurant, a dollar store, a hardware store and finally a grocery store. Going into the grocery store I grab a small kart to get some extra food while I can. Taking my pick of this and that I eat enough to be satisfied while I gather together some fresh fruits along with some milk and cheese that's still good and cold.
Having realized the personal trauma of no more morning coffee I line the bottom of one bag with canned cappuccino's and coffee's. With a couple bags of groceries as if I'm just going to go home and make a minestrone soup and grilled gouda on sourdough I take a fresh fruit punch Skateraid from the cold case before I leave the store. Before I have a moment to recognize anything's changed I feel the weird tingling vibration again.
The hairs on back of my neck and on my arms begin to raise again, "Do... Come... Follow..." willing me towards them I'm stunned. A few blocks away is one of the giant aliens with some mutant saber tooth tiger wolf hybrid. Fear overcomes me, when the alien notices me and orders me to come to it a second time. I panic tossing the shopping cart aside to make a full run for the other side of the street.
Cat & Mouse
The giant alien must have realized that I'm not going to just do as I'm told. Speaking aloud a single command to the alien beast, an instant later the chase begins. Across the street and down the side street running harder than I've ever ran before, I'm at the end of the block as I slow down to turn. Hoping I can confuse it by circling around, I sneak a glance down the block amazed its already caught up to me. I wasn't fast enough to get out of sight.
Panic, immediately I go down the last alley at the end of the block. Lined with trash at the end of the alley a dumpster behind a half open gate makes a dead end. Maybe if I can get over the dumpster I can lose this thing, my mind racing as fast as my feet running down the alley way.
I half turn to look at the alien beast entering the alley entrance starting a takedown run. Looking back was a bad idea I think to myself as my foot sticks to a loose flap of box tape I begin to slide on the flattened card board box. Going along with the fall so my knee wont buckle I pull myself into a ball scraping by the gate before I slam hard into the dumpster making a loud thud and muffled echoing ding sound.
The force of bashing into a steel dumpster knocking the wind out of my lungs as I raise my head to look up. Paralyzed with fear, a few meters away the alien beast is looking at me like dinner. Playing through my mind like high speed film at a thousand frames per second.
Time relative to other forces, perceptions speeding up and slowing down without the benefit of a remote control to choose what will happen, when. The alien beasts powerful hind legs springing off the ground, guided by itself my left leg kicks out against the bottom corner of the gate. Sailing through the air like I'm watching a nature documentary.
Forward legs outstretched massive claws bared, eyes burning with purpose eager to claim the kill. Fanged mouth wide open as the alien beasts leap comes short stopped the second the gate closed clanging shut as the front legs and head clear the tips of the rusty gate.
Time stretching on, still petrified at the alien beast still coming closer and closer, this is the moment when a TV show would cut to commercial. Thinking of this makes me wish I could change the channel get up go grab something to drink or whatever. As if I could just come back and finish watching the well prepared predator taking down a kill replaying from the leap apex.
The beasts outstretched arms shoulder wide, massive claws piercing into the steel dumpster dragging down towards me. The screeching sound of steel against claws ringing in my ears as they come to a stop slicing into the thin hoodie barely missing my skin. Time waits for no man in the moment my eyes tell my brain what's up. Under the fur into the flesh the spiked tips of the gate pierce under the arms and up through the base of the beast's neck.
The massive weight and momentum of the mutant beast against the old rusty gate literally folds the old iron gate. Giving way to a greater force the latch breaks free from the wall as the expression on the alien beast shifts from excited predator to the confused shock of a sudden unexpected death. Massive head lurching forward, steely gaze going dim as wide jaw go slack, orange blood trails from the corner of its mouth dripping onto my hoodie.
Sitting pinned, razor sharp claws retracting as a dull look comes over the alien beasts eyes resting only a few inches from my face. Motionless, breathless, lost in those last images still in shock as my mind struggles to put into context all that has happened over the past few hours of this, this nightmare.
The faint echo of heavy footsteps become more audible with each step. Turning the corner into the alley the alien looks down the alley at the alien beast. "Collection to commander. Pride leader down, subject dead." Responding the commander says, "Ignore subject, return, log report, awaiting orders."
Responding to the commander the collector says, "Sector V3 has not been confirmed clear." The aliens commander reiterates adding a minor detail, "Irrelevant, collection has reached 50% capacity already, remaining team collections expected to fill capacity." Responding in compliance, "I obey, returning now."
Possibly feeling defeated or upset before turning back the collector mutters an incomprehensible but short statement followed by a grunt before leaving. Unzipping my hoodie and shifting out from under the large barbed metallic claws, I tare the tape from the bottom of my shoe. Walking down the alley to avoid random debris and the garbage cans while listening for the loud footsteps of the collector I pull the pistol from the holster as I make it to the end of the alley.
Stepping out into the street raising the gun take aim and begin firing, the first two shots followed closely by the third and fourth. The bullets find their mark so fast the alien doesn't even have time to turn around. Striking the collector first in the back up and to the left of center mass.
My second shot hits dead center in the back of the head as the last two shots pepper the alien body. Propelled forward into the street, fragments of bone and alien brain matter spraying forward from a gaping hole. The aliens blown out face resting in a gelatinous mass a few feet from the head.
Walking forward once the smell and actual sight of the globs of brain and bone reach me I wretch up little bits of oranges, carrots, apples and cheese along with the Skateraid I drank about five minutes ago. The sight of my vomit lying a few feet in photo negative contrast color the textured orange mass bathed in reddish purple Skateraid makes me begin to heave again.
Still nauseous the realization that this is an all out attack sends me reeling down to the ground, curled in, holding my stomach. Grabbing on to any sense of comfort and hope, looking inward, pulling my legs close, focusing on memories of the people close to my heart. Opening my eyes laying a few inches from the hand of the dead collector lays the odd communication device.
Avoiding the gore I pick up the alien communicator and look it over for a battery slot or whatever, but no luck. Looking down the block towards the end is a black and white cop car with the trunk and doors just hanging open, as I walk closer, I look through the windows, nothing.
In the trunk are a pair of bullet proof vests, a pair of shotguns and a couple small shell packs. Taking off the pocketed hunting vest I grab the larger bullet proof vest and put it on as the sunset brings the chill of the evening on the ocean breeze. Thinking to myself, I wish I had my old leather jacket. I head back towards the outdoor shop to grab an over coat and whatever else makes me back track against my paranoia that more of them are out there waiting to take me wherever everyone else has gone.
Looking around from the edge of a fire truck and seeing nothing I move from car to car into the loading lot back around to the outdoor shop. Everything just as I left it the first thing I do is go to the gun wall and grab a pair of bandoliers that I fill with shells, looking in the case for some night vision or starlight goggles.
I grab the rest of the empty clips, 9mm ammo and repack my bag to fit everything I left behind along with the stuff I just picked up. Walking out I feel ridiculous, out of place in time, some mix matched cross between the old west and a modern survivalist. Six hours ago I would have been arrested and thrown into a mental institution for walking down the street like this, I feel like the last man on earth. My best chance is to make it over to the dealership district maybe I can find a motorcycle that still works.
The last fading glow takes on a different feel as some of the street lights come on, powered by emergency generators I guess. Heading towards sales row scurrying and hiding behind each car like a mouse ahead one of the dealerships has a light on.
Listening, I put on the starlight goggles after nightfall. Across the street the local Harley dealership has all the typical brands on the small lot. Crossing the parking lot I head inside to look for a good leather jacket and maybe a bike that I can use, I cross the showroom floor to the dealerships counter to fish for some keys.
Finding a set of keys to a Soft tail Deluxe I walk back over to the bike resting next to a coat rack featuring a dozen leather jacket styles I hunt for an XL, relieved to find a classic jacket. I take off the thermal jacket and the bandoliers to put on the leather jacket over the bullet proof vest and decide to wear the bandoliers over the leather confident the loose thermal jacket will still fit over everything.
Before putting my backpack and everything else on a brief rush of childish excitement forces a grin as I saunter over to the bike like some old western. Swinging one leg wide as I straddle the bike it feels... Not just comfortable or even like it was made for me but more like I was born to ride this bike.
Small pulses of tingling sensations surround me giving me a feeling of powerful energy, I raise my hand high in the air like an ode to rock. Destiny has brought me to this moment bringing my hand down putting the key into the ignition with an electric force like hitting a power cord. Eyes pinched closed as if some blinding flash of light was about to ignite before my eyes blinding me like a nuclear blast.
I feel the connection, key in place, sliding in as the thunder echoes in my mind, pulse pounding like my heart is a drum set. Turning the key, the dreaming delusions of a rock stage come crashing down with the hollow click mocking my moment of stardom. Slumping forward frustrated I wonder if I can find a kick start dirt bike.
Disappointment is an understatement for my mood as I get up from the bike shuffling my feet over to my backpack and the thermal jacket I left at the coat rack. After retrieving my gear I leave to find something that works, thinking to myself, you can't always get what you want.
Meet the Neighbors
Darkness came, with only a scattered few emergency lights it may as well be midnight. Looking down dealers row one way heads out of town with no light and certainly no sign of life. The opposite direction leading towards the only dealership I haven't checked yet. The only business sign lit up makes me uneasy. Why is this light so bright when the others are so dim?
As I creep thinking to myself that the last thing I want is to run into more of the aliens, something inside me says that they have left us in this area. As I come closer I notice light coming from inside the dealership.
Through one of the windows a shadow walks into a room followed by three more. Look around outside the dealership with the starlight goggles, no one is outside, but that's no surprise, if I had much of a choice I wouldn't be outside either. Moving closer, the sound of a generator muffles the voice of one of them.
Across the main entrance cans are strung to fishing line as a basic alarm. Stepping around the line I crouch down low and follow the building to the window. Closer, under the window the squeaky guy says, "Susan and Rama have been gone for over one hundred minutes."
Trailing on, panicked as he paces in front of the others, "Given the location of the closest suitable car parts store it should have taken them at most thirty minutes to arrive, perhaps twenty to thirty minutes searching the store."
Another voice from one of the women, "So you think they've..." before she can even finish her sentence the panicked one interrupts, "Collected, yes. In twenty minutes they will have been gone for two full hours!"
Another guy from the group adds his point, "We can't just stay man, those giant motherfuckers might come back to get stragglers any time." The other woman with a calm strength says, "I have no doubt about that, I suggest we turn off the lights, zip up and wait until morning."
Protesting the other woman says, "And let Susan and Rama just get taken?" "And you expect me to do what?" The argument now more between the women, "Off hand, how about give a shit for starters!" Adding his vote the squeaky voice guy starts up again, "Acceptable colleagues, I will miss their insight." The older guy fires back, "Blow it out your ass!" Now the argument shifting back between the guys, "Spoken exactly how I would presume a propulsion engineer would, obsessed with exhaust!" With this little argument I can't help but chuckle at these two insulting each other. "Shush!!"
The strong confident woman stops the argument, "Can you bookworms shut the fuck up!" Someone says, "O.K." Everyone starts talking at the same time as I wonder if they heard me chuckle. A man says, "Did you hear something?"
A woman says, "I know..." Again a man speaks, "Zip!" A woman replies, "A humming sound." Another women whispers, "Mosquito's or wandering flies." Mr. Squeaky says, "No they have a change in tone and pattern, this is constant."
A woman says, "Maybe one of the soda machines?" The other woman says, "No power, we already checked." The older guy says, "They're on their way back this way man!" Above me there's a hurried rush to the other side of the room, the sound of the door knob turning, opening and I hear her say, "Kill the lights!" "Always a debate." someone says, "Wait.", another voice says, "Why.", before the light gets turned off I hear one of the women say, "This is close."
Realizing the hum they're talking about is coming from the goggles I switch them off. Lifting the goggles to rest on the top of my head as I stand up, I shout while I raise both hands, "Don't freak out OK! I was checking to see if you were..."
No longer intimidated Mr. squeaky and the rest blurt out one word finishers to my sentence. "Aliens?" "Hostile?" "Easy targets?"
Both women say hostile, while Mr. Squeaky says aliens and the guy who looks like he's been drinking since before lunch says, easy targets. Both women wearing a smirk that says "Women's intuition", brought them an answer instead of relevant logic.
Mr. Squeaky, already cocooned in his sleeping bag can barely peek out. Already dismissing me as a threat the guy who said easy targets strides over to a crystal decanter to poor himself a neat glass of scotch. Both women fold arms fixing me with stern looks like I was watching them shower.
"Ok, Mr. Eavesdropper, you want to start from the beginning?" The tough lady says while looking at me and then at Mr. Scotch as I begin to answer, "Your friends Susan and Rama left about two hours ago for a parts store."
Mr. Scotch eyes me with a grin, "Well I can see your good at listening in on conversations was your first ex wife a cheater too?" "No, I've never been married, yet. How many..." He cuts me off before I can finish, "Don't ask!"
The red haired tough one with the army birth control glasses wrinkles her nose as she sees me look at his hand and start to ask how many wives has he had anyway? Looking up she winks and says, "Gay?" A little off guard I say, "Wha... No my, my fiancé is in Cancun with my best friend and his girlfriend." Red at least that's what I'm going to call her, well she's fast with a comeback as she says with a wink, "Oh, the adventurous type?" I guess we can all be childish at times because she keeps going, "So your best friend and his girlfriend are swinging in Cancun with your fiancé, while your here dressed up like some idiot cross between Sam Fisher and Elmer Fudd?"
Before I can even begin to explain the shorter woman with the dark hair and deep blue eyes says, "Gay." She smiles and winks at Red as I start, "I'm not gay, not that I care whether someone's gay but here..." Fishing in my pockets I realize I left my wallet on the kitchen counter, for a moment I think about the phone. I've already synced my account so I should be able to show the last message. Aha, "Ha ha, here!"
Displaying my phone while still standing on the other side of the window, Red says, "Just come inside." I walk around and go inside towards the office, I can see Red standing by the doorway. " I was just fucking with you." Red says as I pass through the door.
No longer frightened Mr. Squeaky sits on the couch only halfway zipped up in the sleeping bag. Leaning back in a fancy leather recliner Mr. Scotch keeps swirling around the scotch taking tiny sips. On the other side of the sofa the dark haired woman still anxious about missing friends, in the room her voice is sharp yet feminine, "So are you trying to be Rambo or what?"
At least these people have a good sense of humor because Red begins to laugh after other woman points out how ridiculous I look. With embarrassment I quietly reply, "No, I just thought the gear would be helpful." Quick to respond Red says, "Helpful against what?" "Them..." Frustrated I wave my arms outwards from the rooms general direction, without missing a beat Red fires back,
"They have the ability to send meteors to strategically destroy cities and you think a pistol and shotgun are going to be helpful? Are you in some Clint Eastwood John Wayne fantasy? This isn't the old west, you're not Billy the Kid and those guns are useless!" "Then how did I get this?"
Pulling the alien communicator out of my pocket and holding it up I'm shocked that the most timid person I've ever seen, comes with speed and confidence crossing the ten or twelve feet between us in a couple of strides.
As if he simply took a rattle from a baby Mr. Squeaky takes the alien communicator from my hand effortlessly. Muttering as he holds the device inches from his eyes he turns it over examining an actual piece of alien technology.
Whispering to himself as if Mr. Squeaky's all alone, "Fascinating... Harmonic tone inputs..." Walking like he's being guided without looking Mr. Squeaky sits down at the desk, reaching into his shirt pocket he pulls out a small credit card size magnifying glass.
A few seconds later he begins muttering again, everyone gathers towards the desk, "Pressure here... Ok this must be the power source..." Disassembling the alien communicator like a remote control he reaches into the desk for something to write on. Separating each part in front of him he flips an invoice pad over and begins scribbling down equations and notes. "Based on positioning..."
In his own world as we sit and watch an absolute genius savant explore the alien communication device, writing page after page. "Eighty one...Over x to the cubed root...Pie R squared..." Red must have some form of turrets' as she can't resist pointing out with a giggle, "No they're not, pies are round, you're square."
Her retort falling flat Red takes a step back and goes back to watching. Flinging the pad to the side Mr. Squeaky begins picking up the individual pieces like he's playing with a jigsaw puzzle pattern only he can see. All pieces as they fit into one another, some sixth sense of visual spatial recognition.
Precise hand movements are deliberate as he fits the device back together, a matter of seconds later he fits the last piece together as a low frequency hum begins to fill the room. Rising from the desk Mr. Squeaky walks over to the doorway and out into the middle of the showroom floor. "Domo arigato, Mr. Roboto." As he speaks into the small communicator the sound broadcasts through my body, feeling the words, "Thank you very much, Mr. Roboto."
Acting like a kid with his first walkie talkie Mr. Squeaky speaks into the communicator again, "Donde esta el basura?" Again the sensation so strong that my hair begins to stand on end I feel the message, "Where is your bathroom?" Mr. Scotch walks over to him and asks, "Can I see that for a second?" Holding up the communicator he looks over it, "Panama! Panama-Ah!"
Grabbing the communicator back mumbling something in Russian I can still feel what Mr. Squeaky says, "It's not a toy." Mr. Scotch grabbed it back, saying aloud without using it, "I'm just testing it, the thing transmits all commands in English and well that's just fucking weird."
Whispering into the communicator in Russian, "He who has the ear of the people may reject leadership, that will not stop the poor and ignorant from clinging to any example they can find in these confusing times." Like playing a Jeopardy nerd off each one blurts out the name of a different Russian writer, "Nietzsche?" "Tolstoy?" "Kafka?"
Each one desperate, for some reason guessing which master of though and perspective brought the quote to relevance. Mr. Scotch chuckles before saying, "Nope, my second ex wife, Anna." After handing back the device to Mr. Squeaky walks over to the farthest point in the room, after a moment of working with it he shouts, "Say something in a different language!" Red says, "Feliz Navidad." On the other end of the room Mr. Squeaky says back into the communicator, "Nee how!"
This time's different, I don't feel any tingling I just get the understanding he said, "Thank you!" Mr. Squeaky walks back taking the device from his hand when he gets close enough to say, "Originally the transcom only force projected speech while the receiving system was passive.
By focalizing the force of speech vibration the message was projected with such strength that it affects human neurology." Showing the opened section of the alien communicator a small crystal is sitting against a shimmering metallic snail shell he continues to speak like he's in a class lecture.
"The vibration of the crystal is picked up by a series of resonance micro amplifier coils that convert the basic sonic resonance into a series of subsonic pulses..." I begin having trouble following the level of technical information Mr. Squeaky wants to fit into a ten minute lecture, looking around everyone else is still zoned into the lecture. "Furthermore the transcom signal is defused across a wide spectrum band tuned to resonate surrounding matter turning everything into an amplifier. Sending these tones that are not heard but felt by transmitting commands using this."
Pointing to one of the control buttons I wonder why nothing happened when I played with it when I first picked it up off of the dead alien. Mr. Squeaky keeps talking making me wonder if he's ever had friends, I can't imagine trying to sit back and watch a movie with this guy, will he ever shut up?
"By changing the direction of the crystal and tuning the micro amplifier coils` the devise is now able to receive these subsonic frequencies and transmit them in a focalized bandwidth between sonic and subsonic frequencies."
Barely pausing for a breath he keeps going with the technical mumbo jumbo scaling down as if he's talking to a class of high school freshmen, at this point the others begin rolling eyes fixing Mr. Squeaky with a glossed over stare.
Still rambling until breathless with his chest heaving, "Working more like a walkie talkie radio without the post hypnotic control, we can now pick up any signals they transmit without being controlled!"
His eyes are impossibly wide as the oddest smile crosses his face like he's just won the lottery. Like a pissed off barber shop quartet, the weird chorus of everyone besides Mr. Squeaky saying to him, "Couldn't you just say it works both ways with less power?" Stunned, his intellectual ego wounded the grin fades. His brow furrows as he raises his hand extending his index finger.
"Well if you were paying any attention I clearly said the "Transcom..." Using his fingers for air quotes he over emphasizes the statement up to the point he actually sneers as he motions the quotations "Transcom".
At this moment again in unison cut off we all snap back with, "We got it!" Silently he sits the transcom on the table, eyes cast down pouting like a scolded child hearing the same angry demand to stop talking he's heard over and over again for the past two decades consecutively by everyone that cant, won't listen or understand him.
Alone yet surrounded by a world full of people that won't understand his language, the finding of this transcom like a treasured memento of the only thing he's ever related to on a personal level.
Handed over like so much of the lunch money taken by ignorant cretins that only know how to take from others preyed on by social predators of the education system, commonly known as bullies. Slumping into a seat on the couch, eyes welling up mourning one good moment lost, his sense of solitude nearly complete.
Solo Mission
Sullen, turned away, I know someone has to say something to Mr. Squeaky. "Awesomeness, you've made it into a universal translator!" Giving Mr. Squeaky a pat on the back while I stand by his side, my shout of praise for his efforts catches the others attention as they take notice and join in, Mr. Scotch starts in first, "Chrissie gimme a kiss you..."
Making a move like he's going in for a kiss, the dark haired woman says, "Leave him alone you perv." Red reminds him of how valuable he is to the group, "So, now I suppose you'll be the first to get a doctorate in alien technology, what is that five or six."
Watching them I can understand why they're stuck here. Awkward yet brilliant just how uncomfortable each one makes me feel I couldn't say. I'm not shocked they're alone with each other while everyone else has been taken away.
"So what's the plan... Stan?" Mr. Scotch says as he looks over at me, Chrissie or more likely just Chris looks my way and says, "How do you know his name is Stan, I don't recall him making a proper introduction, I would have surely noticed if he had." Always eager to pull his leg Red says, "Oh, he told me when I let him in. I told everyone else while you were having a nerdgasm over the first piece of working alien tech on earth."
With a brief narrowing of his brows and a smirking pursing of his lips Chris looks over at Red with a glint in his eye before he turns towards me standing and throwing in a bow and hand gesture that tells me this guy needs to get out more, "Christopher Turner, at your service."
Leaning against the desk looking over the note pad Chris tossed aside Red looks up at me for a moment to say, "Red." Mr. Scotch nods and raises his nearly empty glass gesturing towards an empty bottle on the desk while saying, "I wanted to do the whole, name exchange over drinks but since this bottles empty I'll have to go find another before we can have a proper introduction toast."
"Not everyone feels the need to have a bottle of scotch in order to exchange names, John!" Over emphasizing his name the dark haired woman turns towards me with a prim smile, "Ana, and you might be?" Hesitating a moment before I say, "Joe, my name's Joe."
Red eyes me for a moment, changing her posture she sets Chris's notes on the desk and folds her arms like she thinks I'm hiding something. "So, Joe, you haven't told us yet but how did you come across the alien communicator?" Trying to get out of thinking about it I say, "You wouldn't believe me."
This doesn't deter anyone from wanting to know just how I managed to get it. "Ok, well after I scavenged the grocery store I saw one of them a few blocks away with a giant mutant saber tooth tiger wolf hybrid."
Like scouts around a campfire legend already intently listing to me tell my tall tale. "The alien collector used the communicator but for some reason the message was broken and weak. The collector noticed I wasn't affected by the thought control so it sent the mutant beast after me."
Chris and Ana let out little gasps of shock while John mutters under his breath, "Fucking shit." Red just keeps watching me with her arms folded, which makes me feel uneasy.
"When I saw it clear two car lengths on a starting leap I tore off across the street, running as fast as I could towards the end of the block I turned to look, the mutant beast had already gotten to the street I crossed." Chris had his hands to his mouth like he's eating an ear of corn.
"I turned back around and went down the next alley hoping to lose the mutant beast but it was a dead end, at the end I saw a short wall behind a dumpster so I ran for the dumpster." While everyone but Red is quite entertained she just keeps looking at me with a weird dead eyed stare that's starting to freak me out.
"A few feet from the dumpster I slipped on a cardboard box and ended up crashing into the dumpster. When I looked forward I saw the mutant beast leaping at me, so I did the only thing I could. I kicked the gate shut maybe a second ahead of the giant alien beast."
"Shit, what happened next?" John asks like he's catching highlights on his favorite show. "I was in shock, pinned between big ass claws relieved to be alive." Chris asks, "So how did you get the alien communicator in a catatonic state of shock?" Before I have a chance to say anything Ana, more interested in my story interrupts Chris, "I'm sure he's getting to that part, please ignore him and continue."
"I saw the collector look down the alley, I think it realized the mutant beast was impaled on the gate spikes but I don't think it noticed me. It stood for a moment while it used the communicator before it turned and went back down the street. When it passed out of sight, I got out from under the mutant beast and I crept down the alley.
At the end of the alley in the middle of the street I saw the collector lumbering it wasn't far down the block. I pulled the pistol and took a steady aim before I took a few shots, I'm lucky one shot hit it in the back of the head." Disgusted or at least making a face like she saw something gross, Ana says, "So you scavenged the body?"
"Not quite, it was by the aliens hand when it fell." John scoffs and says, "So standing in the middle of the street like Dirty Harry, both hands on the gun, and you unload huh?" "Yeah, I did. I kind of felt like it was my only choice if I ever wanted to get out or know what the fuck's going on."
"Perfectly logical choice, I'd do the same." Chris begins defending my logic when John cuts him off, "You'd freak out if someone sneezed!" Continuing Chris says, "Yes, well if you hadn't so rudely interrupted I would have mentioned my squeamish tendencies on my own." Red must have some weird mean streak or maybe like a school ground crush teasing or picking on the boy she likes.
"Is that some brain on your sleeve Chris? I don't think he cleaned it all off before he came, oh, yep, there is some on his sleeve." Ana joins in at first giggling under her breath, "Ewe, I think he's tracked in some under his boot." Chris begins to look even more pale, if that's even possible, beginning to make dry heaving sounds while reaching towards a bucket even John adds in.
"Come to think of it, it has smelled kinda funny since Joe showed up, I just thought it was Ana's obsession with cheeseburger's." Even with achievements and doctorate degrees when it comes to practical life with other people they're more like kids on a playground, Ana embarrassed says, "I'm lactose intolerant."
Finally someone else Chris thinks to himself relaxing, not wanting to miss his opportunity, "Lactose based bio-aerosol propelled nuclear bio-toxin, if the explosive force could be contained as a fuel source it could be used to power plasma cores for celestial travel." Even his jokes are complicated, I miss the punch line in between all the technical definitions whatever Chris said the while rest of the brain trust cackle like a pack of hyenas, a moment later he's laughing at his own joke.
As everyone gets comfortable the reality of the situation brings it all back to that uncomfortable silence when they realize I'm not laughing Red says, "OK, so what's the next move?" Quick to reply Chris says, while handing me a note, "Susan and Rama have been gone now for hours."
Continuing Chris says, "I propose one of us go with Joe to obtain the alternator and voltage regulator from the parts store." "I don't think so." I start to say before I get a chance to explain my point Red steps in making my point clear to the others, "He's, right, he's ok on his own. Maybe he is or maybe he isn't immune to thought control, but I'm pretty sure we don't all share his ability to resist it."
Ana joins in, "She's right, the last time I just wanted to get up and find out what they wanted. If John hadn't grabbed me I would have already been gone." John adds his point, "Shit, that's why Chrissie wants to stay wrapped in that sleeping bag like a human burrito, he wanted to go too!"
Clarifying in defense Chris says, "You're only partly correct, I have no intentions of joining our new friend." John interrupts, "Who said anything about you going anywhere, you're afraid of your own fuckin' shadow. None of us are going any-fucking-where!" Continuing Chris retorts, "Although, the absence of obscenities and reeking alcohol breath would be a viable selfish and short sighted motivator for me to nominate you join him."
This short argument continuing between John and Chris is somewhat amusing, as expected John offers a quick retort, "The only fucking thing keeping me sane is getting blind stinking drunk!"
Red finally says clearly what Chris meant by, someone go with Joe, "He's talking about me. You're too drunk to take a piss without getting it all over yourself."
While this argument continues I just sit back and keep watching the show before its time to go. Chris makes that pursed lip smug smile that just pisses me off while Ana turns to Red with a mocked shocked look, "Why?"
I'm done with this debate, everyone else has interrupted someone so now it's my turn, "I don't care! I'm not taking anyone!" Everyone looks over at me stunned that I shouted that, so the next part I say with a calm clear tone, "Listen, I know I need to go to the parts store to get whatever you needed to get a rig on the road. I can even try to find your friends but I'm not promising anything." All of the scientists reply back in unison, "Fair enough." That's it? Fair enough, after all the bickering, fair enough, whatever.
Reaching into her jean jacket pocket Red pulls out a pair of ID badges, as she reaches out to hand them to me her eyes somehow look softer now, somehow saying without words one last plea for me to do everything I can to bring them back. Even with this pleading look a knowing look that goes deeper saying, I'll understand whatever happens.
Susan's badge is stylish in blue and green it says, Seattle Marine Biological Association Specialty Inspector Seattle Aquarium. Rama's badge is white with a small radiation meter, DOE logo next to a Hanford Site number designation and 3D scanner barcode.
Turning I grab my backpack from the floor and leave before anyone can start another debate, time is precious and I have no idea how much I have left. Outside completely dark with the exception of a few scattered emergency lights.
Every couple blocks one side or the other has a lit street lamp. Cars scattered down either side of the street I move from car to car as I listen for any sign of survivors... or collectors.
Ahead my eyes must be playing tricks on me I think I notice a brief flash of movement between my scurrying from car to car, is that... no it's not the Davis's minivan, getting close enough I can see this one is littered with fast food and candy wrappers, no sports gear but each seat has a tablet with grease smears.
Passing an old Lincoln that stopped before turning down an alley, I notice a crack pipe on the floorboard with some scattered cash and condoms. Sad for some people the struggles of life just kept up with more of the same bullshit to the end. Turning the corner towards the parts store down the street across the street from the parts store a gas station has emergency lighting on. Still no sign of anyone, I feel kind of silly sneaking from corner to corner from car to car like a comical mime of the pink panther.
Afraid I'll be discovered by something not human I just try to keep moving. Across the street in the gas station dim lighting shows no sign of life. At the part store I turn on my goggles so that I can look around in the dark store. Everything looks pristine, thinking the worst to myself.
Walking over to the counter I pull out the catalog book to look for the alternator and voltage regulator model number locating both parts. Even though I haven't heard or felt any messages in the back of my mind I know they may be waiting for the dead collector to get back before they leave.
A brief moment before my hand touches the door handle a moment of static reports before, the message comes out, "Do not attack, come forward, follow us." This time something in me says to follow because I just have to know what's going on in Fairview for myself.
What do they want with us, are we slave labor, food, are they relocating humanity to save us. If that's the case why do it by force? I'm not going to find out what's happening by staying here.
Strangers in the Night
Coming outside at first the streets are still empty, eventually though some people compelled by the alien force to obey walk out from a burger joint still in uniform. Across the street in the gas station a beautiful young woman in a wedding dress follows a man in a tuxedo to the street like they're sleepwalking. A block or so behind me a pair of people coming towards me are wearing lab coats.
More people come out of buildings and as the crowd grows everyone coming has a blank look, eyes open but still. I try to wave at Susan and Rama but they keep walking past me following the bride and groom as they amble towards an unexpected honeymoon.
Following behind the group I look behind me and everything is just as empty and silent as it was ten minutes ago. I'm feeling drowsy, I notice that the larger the group gets the stronger this feeling gets. Chris may have explained it but whenever I'm bombarded with a stream of technical words collegiate PTSD takes over and I zone out.
With some source of light ahead I turn off the starlight goggles and lift them over my head hoping to spot where everyone's going without being seen. Looking up at the sky for a moment looming over earth looking as big as the moon is a giant circular mothers ship. Trying to keep calm I search the crowd for Susan and Rama, a block ahead dozens of people are all walking towards the little league field.
Turning the corner ahead of me there's fifty or sixty people, I jog up to the corner of the building ahead to look around the corner. Ahead of me a few blocks away is the little league field, facing the field I recognize a collector with another of those mutant beasts, at least this one isn't as big as the one that chased me.
Walking a full block ahead of the group of people, the collector and mutant beast keep walking towards the field. I have no comfort in the thought of being chased by another one of those mutant beasts, thinking to myself as they all pass a semi truck the vibrating sensation builds as a group of six more people come out of a small pub.
In the dark with only a dim emergency lighting they join the crowd next to the pair in lab coats, one of which is definitely a black woman. Already across the street as I try to move unnoticed holding back my urge to rush for cover I begin getting a headache the closer I get. Ducking into the alley the side door to a pub is wide open. Going inside the pub scene is nothing like all the other stores, bottles are all over the place.
It looks like for the past six hours everyone has been drowning in sorrow for a lost world. Most of the alcohol already gone, sitting in the stomach's of Fairview's unlucky residents. Peeking out the window several people are wearing lab coats in the mass of people walking towards the lighted ramp of the alien cargo container.
Sitting in the same booth I climbed into to look outside I notice several pale lager bottles with Indian writing next to a pair of empty soda bottles. If the plan was to get parts and return why did they come to a bar? There was a gas station with some emergency lighting across the street from the parts store, could Rama have wanted beer from India so much he would risk being collected?
Did they come looking for answers just like me, and figure, eh, what the hell while I'm here I might as well grab a few for the road since no more will be available, oh possibly forever. All things considering since I saw six come out of the front door perhaps they met even more survivors and came back to pick up some supplies?
I hold down the communicator's receive button for a moment checking if I can get anything besides the same generic come follow us message. No luck but I do notice while I'm holding the button I don't feel the same, my headaches gone and I don't feel like I'm being willed to follow by the bones in my body. I need to get back to the group and tell them what happened.
Before I go, the message coming through the communicator changes. "Third collection crew report." In between these communications brief moments of static punctuate the report. " 3C on return, 96% capacity, remaining observed population for sector 8A Nil." "Fourth collection crew report."
This transmission is punctuated by choppy dialog, "Not...Unknown...Hunter...Proximity...Host... Not...Return...Cap..." Again the commander can be heard quite clearly, "Secure cargo, prepare for departure upon arrival of teams."
Sitting debating what to do, within a few seconds I consider simply returning with the parts to inform them as I planned to do a couple minutes ago? Shit what do I do. Looking out at the field a huge crowd of tuned out people being herded towards the lighted cargo ramp, near them are a couple of the collectors.
A good three feet above an average man, yet just as vulnerable to guns as people. Recognizing this is a once in a lifetime opportunity for everyone of the people being herded like cattle to whatever fate has in store.
My options are clear, either run back to save myself and the people I've met or step up and do what I can to save them. Taking stock of what I have in my bag I never thought Dennis's Molotov's were practical for anything, but now these may give me the edge I need to make a difference.
I'm going to have to move fast, what the fuck am I thinking, am I going to try a full on assault on this pick up crew? Think positive, the first collector had no clue anyone would attack, I've already survived frightened and unprepared, which gives me every reason to believe luck is on my side, for whatever that's worth.
Preparing one of the beer bottles with the rest of the Gin Dennis gave me I look for another bottle of liquor to use, some high proof rum will be just fine. Filling three bottles with the high octane rum and another bottle with Gin, I leave my pack and sneak out the back to come around and get a better look without being seen. I have one chance at this, checking to make sure the pistols loaded and ready as well as the shotgun.
I take a moment to fill the shotgun relieved the combat shotgun holds six shells. Locked and loaded, starlight goggles on I feel like I'm in a stealth action sequence out of a Shaded Cell game. Going back around the block creeping from car to car I make it to a semi truck giving me cover to watch.
On the field it looks like a bad summer festival concert. Hundreds of bored faces move one by one as they are separated and led towards different compartments aboard the freighter ship. In the front section of the ship from an open entry hatch holding a tablet as a clipboard checklist is another alien.
Unlike the giants this one looks even more human with a weird glow coming from under the skin. Walking over to a pair of giants the glowing alien, I hold down the receiver button holding it close to my ear hoping to hear what they're saying.
Taking stock of the situation one of the giants one wears a different uniform than the other next to him. By the collectors side of course is a mutant beast, but this one not nearly as large as the one that impaled itself.
One pilot, a giant commander, a collector, another mutant beast, one more ship guard watching the front another guard watching the people at the back of the ship and one more collector dividing the most recent group.
Seven individuals, before I can think about this something from the pilot and commander speaking with a collector catches my ear. "No signs of the runner." "Have you encountered any runners?" "Negative. All Terans have been passive."
"Have you located C1?" "Negative, C1 may have been eliminated by unexpected structural damage, C1 reported his hunter down from unexpected fatal collision with structural debris." Before I move the pilot finishes the conversation with, "Departure eminent, Command secure collection teams." "Affirmative." This brief meeting coming to an end I take a quick dash towards the announcer tower. Getting closer, watching intently as I head to the bleachers moving as close as I can get. Pausing for just a moment, I take out the rag from one holding rum and take a big swig, this is it, no turning back, now or never.
Lighting the first Molotov I take aim for the pilot heading towards the entry hatch of his compartment, taking a heaving throw, before impact I light the second which I throw at the pair of giants still departing mere feet apart. Sailing through the wide open hatch, inches over the pilots left shoulder, shattering on the pilots console.
A brief flash of blue, orange and white as the burning high octane alcohol coats the console in flames with the flaming shrapnel catching the pilots clothing on fire. White hot, the scream hanging in the air still silent as the second Molotov heads towards the pair, I light the third and heave it towards the mutant beast by one of the giants. Tumbling out of the access hatch, arms flailing desperately trying to stop the fire, "Aaarrrrgggghhhh!!!"
Grasping at its melting face somehow the growing intensity of the flame fueled by the aliens body. Engulfing the alien as the others begin to take notice of the situation, kersmash! In front of the giant I threw the second Molotov at, crashing shards of flaming shrapnel spray towards the giants as the first is doused in the back splash of that Molotov.
A second later the third Molotov strikes the mutant beast in the side of the head. The reflexes of the mutant beast so acute reaction is immediate, aflame the fur around the head burning with an intensity I've never seen. Tendrils of red flame surrounding it as the mutant beast leaps towards the giant commander while the collector doused in flame runs around like a decapitated chicken.
The spectacle of my attack coming off like a scene out of a movie. If I had more time I might grab a bleacher seat and some popcorn. Huge wide open flaming maw of the mutant beast clamps down over the entire head of the giant commander.
The uniform catching fire from the still flaming body of the mutant beast. Falling into a smoldering heap absent head the body of the commander lays still as the flames grow like a bonfire.
As the flaming collector runs around it hits some mechanism or control that drops all of the doors on the freighter ship, one of the doors crashing down on the smoldering commander effectively putting out most of the flames.
Coming towards me recognizing I'm the threat, a big orange club wielding caveman's on a mission to split my skull. Holding some kind of club in the air like a flashback to prehistory. I pull the pistol lining up the red dot with its face for a second as I fire a couple rounds.
One misses as the other goes through its right eye blowing out the top of its skull. Driving the head backwards as the momentum of a body in motion tends to stay in motion. "C3 to command, reply!" Hearing this come from the communicator of another alien coming for me tells me I may not have much time before collection teams C3 and C4 make it back with mutant hunting beast.
Before I have time to process what I'm hearing, the baton falls from the grip of the dead alien sending an electric arc between the baton and the ground a moment later the baton sits on the ground harmlessly. Already the other guard, leaner and faster only fifteen or twenty feet from me is coming fast from the back of the ship covering ground while I took out the first guard. Firing off three more shots one lands high in the thigh
Recoil brings the second shot center of its chest and the third shot going through the throat. The guards body crashing forward as the alien beast uses the corpse as a springboard leaping towards me I empty the rest of the clip into the mutant beast.
I have no idea if the pistol bullets have enough power to take down the beast before it reaches me or one of the stunned survivors now emerging from the ramps lying open. The first shot misses going by just above the head as it makes a bounding jump, between us people are piling out of the open ramps running and screaming.
The second shot striking the shoulder turning the beasts attention back to me as the third shot goes through its left eye. My fourth shot grazes the top of its skull, still no signs of stopping the fifth shot hits it in the face with the sixth and seventh shots both strike in the center of its skull. First cracking it and then finally bringing it down crashing forward sliding massive heft, kicking up dust as it comes to a rest in front of a young boy wearing a black hoodie with a tiger on the front. absolute chaos has taken over the scene as people run to get away from the ship.
From the far side of the ship another guard comes out with a look of shocked over what has happened in the past minute. Holstering my pistol I move towards the fleeing people scanning faces for Susan and Rama, if this isn't the last collection team these people need a plan, "Get to the basements and sewers!"
Fixing eyes on me the last giant follows lumbering towards me, oblivious to the crowd emerging from the cargo ship. A lucky stroke for me is not so lucky for the giant as it is swept under the feet of the dozens of people still in the act of escaping captivity. Moving dazed, curious about what's happening are a pair wearing lab coats.
Trying to make it through the crowd against the tide of bodies desperate to get away, I lose focus on Susan and Rama as I recognize the collector reaching up fear in his eyes.
A knee to the face, a massive arm bending backward like a tree being bulldozed over, muffled screams of pain as its massive body jostles around continuing to be trampled with only the odd sounds of bones breaking.
Startling me, standing beside me Rama asks, "Who are you?" Down the block on the other end of the field one of the collector teams heading back are close enough to recognize something's wrong. "I'm Joe, go to the pub and wait there I'll explain soon!"
Stammering, trying to respond to my ordering him and Susan go, Rama begins to reply as Susan grabs his arm dragging him away towards the pub across the street. Past the last of the people fleeing the ship the collector has already set the beast after me, crossing the outfield covering ground fast.
Crossing the infield towards second base I change pace from running to walking tall towards the mutant beast. I pull the shotgun from my shoulder leveling it coming to a stance in front of the plate pulling the trigger, pump, fire, pump, fire, pump, fire.
The hulking mass losing control, body sliding towards me like a car with no brakes. The last blast obliterating the right leg at the knee not ten feet from me, coming at me my attempt to leap out of its way doesn't happen the way I planned.
My mind says dodge left but instead my body leaps as high as possible coming down between the beasts massive shoulders as I take a long stride leap hurdle jumping off its hind legs landing into a run. Heading towards the collector coming for me from the far end of center field, distance closing, stun baton glowing I fire the shotgun just before it can reach me.
With little spread the skull becomes a cloud of mist as flesh, bone and blood spray everywhere including on me. Across the street shaking off the control and recognizing the horror show in front of them, covered in the collectors orange blood I must look like a modern day barbarian covered in the gruesome gore of my latest victim.
Turning back towards the ship to check if anything is after me, the baseball field turned battlefield littered with the bodies of aliens and a couple dozen trampled people.
In the haze of my fight for survival, this clear image showing how fragile humane society is when overcome by panic. The instinct to survive effortlessly dashing morals aside in favor of self preservation.
Brief sadness in seeing the motionless trampled corpses of obese people unable to keep up. The disabled and elderly unable to keep pace. Children overcome by the mass of fleeing people focused on escape. Shaking off the feeling of nausea thinking to myself how many are left?
From the opposite end of the field a group emerges from the street, no time for fear, chambering another round as I stride towards the alien beast. Thinking to myself as I cover ground loading rounds towards my fate eyes wide, one, two, three, four, and five, one more left.
Covering the distance as I think about the pistol for a second, alien beast taking great leaps, holding my weight on my heels waiting for the high point of the last leap as I fire the blast shredding through the beasts eye before exploding the back of the beasts skull.
Sailing forward the alien beasts momentum joining the force of the shotgun blast at point blank knocks me back to the ground. The shotgun bouncing out of my hand as I try to roll away before the alien beast lands on me with enough weight to crush me.
Landing the weight hits my foot swinging me around like a spinner on a game board before I start to tumble. Rolling over my leg my own weight popping the snap on the pistol holster on my leg the pistol flings off before I can regain my senses. Getting to my forty or fifty feet ahead between me and the collector is the stun baton of the first guard I dropped.
Breaking into a run the collector recognizes this and also starts running. No room for error I leap into a baseball slide in parody of a typical baseball game slide for home plate. Reaching out for the handle of the baton looking through the dust kicked up in my slide, the collector readies his baton crackling with fragmented strings of energy.
The batons grip finding my grasp, I try to gain a standing position putting my other hand down to the ground while planting my foot.
The slide carrying me forward as I begin to get to my feet, one knee and one hand on the ground pushing up at the same time. My hand coming off the ground, my other foot brings me standing. Inches away energy crackles as the collectors swings.
Going wide, missing me only because I just managed it to make it to my feet. Throwing my balance off, falling backwards landing hard on my ass, puffs of dust rise as I bring my left arm up holding the activation pad on the stun baton.
Striking up as the collector brings a hammer swing down both stun batons connect at the tips, blue and white electric trails begin growing. Still holding the activation button as the baton in my hand begins pulsing with light I let go, electromagnetic flux between the energy weapons building, the baton I had been holding still hanging in mid air.
Scrambling to get away, coming to my feet, the humming sound building, the electromagnetic field growing surrounding the collector as his body is wrapped in blue and white bolts of electricity.
The field of electromagnetic energy expanding nearly catching me as I start to a run for all I've got. Sore all over, exhausted, can't look back now I've got to keep running. My legs burning, feeling heavy as though they will buckle bringing me crashing to the ground with the next step, every step. Threatening to let me be taken in the expanding field.
Passing the left field announcers tower I cut across part of the infield passing the ship as I keep running to the visitors bleachers. Only a dozen feet away the hum making my ears ring before I twist my ankle on the third base plate flailing forward as I fall trying to keep from eating the edge of the bleacher coming fast at eye level.
Catching the seat edge of the bleacher with both hands I turn over to look back just in time to watch the diameter of the energy field expanded to at least twice the height of the giant now floating in the air. Convulsing as it becomes one with the growing intensity of the field, already now the aliens internal organs and bone structure glowing as tendrils of electricity connect to all points within the field.
Already blindingly bright I scurry over the bleacher seat and roll behind the stack as a loud, snick, echoes. Turning to look between the bleacher seats I have to shield my eyes with my hand to focus. The collectors body holding the stun baton pulses once more before the energy orb nearly doubles in size, everything within range is vaporized, third plate, the grass, replaced by a smoldering ring.
Relieved the explosion didn't make it to the ship I stand behind the visitors bleachers mesmerized at the absence of life on the field so different only ten minutes ago. Turning on my good ankle I look across the street and take some comfort that Susan and Rama are watched what happened as I come limping forward crossing the street to the pub. Behind me in the pilots cabin no longer on fire a flashing emergency light blinks for no one.
Who Sent You?
Coated in alien blood and brain matter, sore all over bruised battered and possibly bleeding internally Susan opens the door as Rama comes out to greet me and guide me to a seat. Taking the seats across from me Susan and Rama just stare at me for a moment like I'm a living triptych that might change as the eyes focus on a hidden image. "What?" My blunt question breaks the silence, blank gazes change expressions to awe and suspicion.
"Who are you?" Susan asks only a moment before Rama asks, "Who sent you?" Answering Susan first, "I already told you, I'm Joe." Before I can tell Rama who sent me, he replies again as if to clarify, because he believes I didn't understand his question the first time. "No, I meant are you military, FBI, CIA, what agency do you work for?"
"I guess if you need a letter group I could say I'm working with NASA and DHS through the job I started with Boeing, around noon earlier today." Susan slaps a delicate hand on the table, "Did you know this would happen?" I'm not sure where this conversations going so I just say, "What?"
Looking at me, dead serious she clarifies, "Did you know earth was going to be attacked before it happened?" I don't know what they're thinking but clearly they have the wrong impression about me already.
I reply, "You've got it all wrong, I'm no secret agent, I'm an IT Systems Analyst setting up testing, metrics and compatibility analysis for VR recreation during the upcoming mission to Mars."
Even more stunned by the IT title than if I had told them I'm the Terminator back to kick ass and save the world Rama's jaw drops slack as Susan goes into full blown mommy nag mode. "You're an IT geek with a death wish! Tell me when the attack started did you go into some schizophrenic split with reality?" Before I have a chance to reply to Susan, Rama starts going into a rant.
"Oh wonderful, so G-IT Joe decides to start an interstellar war! Have you even thought beyond what happens after whoever's commanding the mother ship finds out some cowboy's making trouble?" While I realize Rama's question is rhetorical I wouldn't have enough time to answer if I tried.
"Of course not, you're IT, when you do something if everything works great otherwise it's just on to the next step in the manual for you. Guess what company IT guy, there's no manual for this!" That's it, I'm not some random phone tech support guy reading from a prepared manual, "Rama! One you're alive, two, there not here to pick you up for an interstellar field trip and three, I'm not phone tech support!"
The last part about tech support reminds me of calls I've had as a customer, retrieving my best impression of a outsourced phone tech support employee from India, "Now will you please check the power cable to ensure it is securely plugged into the correct power receptacle, instead of up your ass where your head is presently located." For a moment it seems like the joke is going to make matters worse when Rama smiles, wide.
This breaks the tension of the moment and Susan begins laughing, hard, starting off with a few loud snorts before making a weird sound like a wounded giraffe. Rama starts cracking him up, his laugh is just as weird as hers while he makes wheezing sounds between snickers.
Glad I eased over the insults with my impression, maybe Rama and Susan wont ride me as the lowest educated person in the group. I know it'll happen again anyway but now isn't the time. Sighing and winding down as she catches her breath Susan asks, "So, do you have a plan Joe?" Finally getting a chance to answer Rama's first question, "Yeah, I'm taking back to Red, Ana, John and Chris."
Instantly Rama and Susan are at full attention both beginning to ask about the other scientist. Both speaking together, some words shared in the garbled request are still understood well enough. I know they wanted to know if everyone's ok. "They're fine, best way to see is to get going." Understanding my point they get ready to go while I go to the bathroom hoping the water works so I can clean off my face.
Washing my face in the sink, globs of purple goo falling into the sink with the blood looking like diluted orange juice, shouting from the other room, "Have they got the generator going yet..." Rama's voice trailing off with him grumbling about needing a shower. With most of the gunk cleaned off my face I come out from the bathroom saying, "Yeah, the generator's working. I didn't stay long before they sent me off looking for you."
I thought it best not to tell them the other scientists had already thought them lost. Opening my pack I take my pick looking through the bottles I fill the left over space in my pack with some of the finer stuff while Susan and Rama wait, looking back and forth between the outside and me at the bar.
While looking outside I shoulder my backpack and come out from behind the bar heading for the front door, walking out past them as I step over the curb and look back at them scurry through the door. "I don't think you've got anything to worry about right now, but you said it yourself Rama, what happens when they realize what happened? It won't be quiet forever."
Finally snapping into focus they stop cowering when I say, "We need to be quick, check the field over by the ship for any alien devices we can salvage." Nodding in agreement we all hurry towards the ship, Susan heads towards alien corpses like some forensic detective out of a cop show.
At the sight of bodies Rama turns towards the bleachers while I begin looking around the field close to the ship. Scavenging near the ship for any alien technology in a few minutes I have a bag of alien stuff, although some of it is broken I'm sure Chris would complain if I left anything behind he could use, thinking to myself for a moment, time to go.
Carrying the bag over to Rama, Susan has collected whatever she decided to get, when she gets over to us I say, "We should go by the grocery store up the street to get some food and liquids for the trip." After they both nod in agreement the three of us head down the street. No use trying to find the guns since I lost the starlight goggles sometime between throwing Molotov's and being coated in alien blood and guts. The quiet uneventful walk to the grocery store takes a while but I'm pretty sure it'll be worth the wait.
"So what made you, you know, go all out against the aliens?" Susan tries to be casual which comes out awkward as Rama double steps to keep up from time to time I say, "At first I was scared shitless, I ran to the trail behind my house to hide in the drainage culvert. Everything's been happening so fast, like I only have enough time to react to the moment. Even now this conversation, like everything's..."
A look of surprise from both Susan and Rama as they both say, "I feel it too."Up ahead I can see the grocery store from the spot I saw the first alien just before sunset. Also recognizing the grocery store ahead Susan begins to jog ahead, "I'll get a kart!"
Crossing the distance to the parking lot and taking a moment to be a kid she hop's on to a shopping kart using her momentum to coast across most of the parking lot on her way towards the grocery store.
Rama disinterested in coasting still grabs a kart to load up for the journey. Keeping pace with Rama I grab a kart, pausing to say, "Rama, I know food is important but I think we should let Susan get that while we get some gear."
Looking me up and down for a moment Rama replies with a smile, "I do not wish for Susan to be alarmed at our absence, you go ahead I'll let her know we're not just stopping for groceries." His attempt at humor or I just find it funny and chuckle before saying, "Ok."
Rolling the cart down to the outdoor store I think about Dennis. I think about how at least a thousand survivors could use his help and help him stop being so isolated. Before going into the outdoor store I stow the backpack under the main cart basket, going for the ammo I load them into the cart by the box full. Selecting a few backpacks I fill one with most of the medical supplies. In the second I throw all the snacks while filling a third with batteries, water purification tablets and other survival gear.
Susan walks in and says, "Rama is at the cell phone store." Pulling out my own cell phone I turn it on to check if I can even get a signal. Nope, what's he doing? I already have the cart loaded to the point that weight makes the back left wheel kind of drag and jitter. Pushing the cart out the door Rama's rolling a kart filled with an assortment of older phones.
"What do you plan to do with those?" Now both Susan and are talking in unison, weird. Standing together with fully loaded karts looking at Rama's kart of obsolete phones puzzled by what he plans to do with them. "These are push to talk, like walkie talkies. If I can establish one radio tower these phones can transmit on a bandwidth that can be picked up on a small closed network of these phones."
Raising an eyebrow Susan and I get the point, "Hey can you wait for a few minutes, I have to take up some things to Dennis in the culvert." For a second Susan looks suspicious, "You didn't mention meeting anyone in the culvert." Adding to that point Rama says, "We should bring them with us to help reconnect survivors."
Doubting that Dennis will even use the cell phone maybe I can still convince him to connect with survivors and one of them will use the phone. With time always a factor both scientists say, "Ok, just hurry please." At that, I go around the corner of the strip mall to the hillside, moving past the brush in the dark I find the culvert entrance. Relieved Dennis hasn't closed the gate, I walk inside to Dennis's door.
First I give the steel door three calm knocks pausing before giving the door a couple more solid knocks. On the other side I can hear something muffled by the door the mumbling interrupted by a long and loud snore.
I give the door three loud bangs that startle Dennis awake screaming, "What the fuck!" Muffled sounds getting closer to the door Dennis says out loud the moment he looks through the peep hole, "Holy shit! Joes fucking alive!" As fast as he can open the door Dennis reaches out yanking me inside the room with a warm smile I wasn't expecting, has also not wearing the "protective helmet" anymore.
"How the fuck are you boy, I got curious a while ago and came to the end to take a look." Coughing as he grabs a cigarette. "I saw some explosion and then everything was quiet again. Shit son I thought you were done for!"
With a smirk I say, "I'm fine and the aliens are gone for a while. There are more survivors, and I found this." Whispering into the alien communicator "Donde esta el basura?
Immediately Dennis starts laughing as he points out the door, "Bathrooms in a port-a potty out in the tunnel. That's crazy you whisper into that thingamajig and I knew you asked for the bathroom?" "I don't have much time but I thought you'd like these."
Pulling out a couple bottles of expensive Scotch and a Fancy box of cigars Dennis eyes well up, a tear wiggles down his dirty cheek into his scraggly beard. "This...Is...The...Nicest...Fucking... Thing...Anyone...Has...Ever...Done for me!"Saying choked up Dennis gets the drop on me with a hug so strong it feels like he's going to crush my sore ribs.
Getting some personal space back out of breath I say, "Ok, ok, enough!" Dennis releases me with a wide smile like kid on Christmas. "I also brought you this," pulling out the phone I try to hand it to Dennis when he says, "Why?"
Thinking about the best explanation for Dennis I begin with, "If we're going to make it as a species, those survivors are going to need your help. This phone works like a walkie talkie, so no dependence on satellites ok?"
Nodding Dennis just asks one simple question, "How?" Opening the back of the phone I log the RFID, FCCID, URLSID and MAC addresses, setting them to the side I grab my phone, open the ADHOC list, key in all the data into a low bandwidth radio frequency network communications list.
Resetting the flip phone while putting my phone into an accept state from the flip phone, time to test. Using the flip phone I make a contact ping to my phone, accept the call and save to a contact list before I hand Dennis the flip phone and get up heading towards the door.
At the door I say, "Call me in a minute." "Ok." Puzzled Dennis replies as I head down the tunnel. As I walk down the tunnel Dennis's call comes in answering it I say, "Hey." Dennis asks, "So now what?"
Answering Dennis's question I say, "Keep in touch, find others, close to a thousand survivors escaped the last collection run." Dennis has hope in his voice again when he says, "Ok. Hey, ya ever comin' back?"
Wanting to leave on a good note I say back, "I hope so, hey save me a glass next time, will ya?" Chuckling on the other end Dennis gets my joke, "Ok, you got it kid!" Reaching the exit I say one last thing, "Live long and prosper, I'll check back with you later."
The private jokes between us continue, I think he's enjoying the banter, "Good luck kid Icarus, don't take too long walkin' on the sun." I'm not sure what he means by the reference, "What?" "You'll get it, sooner or later, take care kid." With that the conversation ends, in the darkness I think why didn't I grab another set of starlight goggles before I came? With no time to waste I attempt to repeat my original steps.
Coming down the hillside in the dark caution or not halfway down it no longer matters when I catch my left boot on a loose rock. Falling forward I try to at least keep from going face first, rolling on my hip, holding out my hands as I slide down about twenty feet of hillside into a concrete wall, "Fucking Shit! AARGH, OOF!" Screaming seconds before the impact as my full weight crashes into the wall.
The snap, unique as my foot hits the concrete wall, the force of my weight relieving the pain from the sprain, but only in my brain. Before the motion is complete my right ankle is sprained, possibly broken. Wedged against the wall and the hillside, my scream managed to get Susan and Rama's attention as they come around the corner of the wall.
While I've already managed to pull myself from between the wall and earth, Susan stops me from getting up any further."Stop, don't move any more until I look at it." Holding my leg she says, "I have to take off the boot." I slide the boot off my ankle, "Can you move your foot?"
With some effort grimacing through the pain I wiggle my toes and rotate my foot while saying, "This little piggy went to market." Stopping at the point it feels like needles shooting up through my leg from my foot.
Feeling my foot Susan checks for whatever kind of damage has been done before pushing on some key points, holding it firm giving it a short tight twist followed by a slight crunch and sense of relief. "It looks ok, just go easy on it for a while."
While I'm still putting my boot back on Rama reminds us, " We should get back to the others." Limping out of the small path behind the concrete wall Rama offers his shoulder to help until I make it around the corner. On a flat even surface it's easier to just walk to the karts.
The three of us walking down the block towards Big Jim's and the other scientists goes slow while Rama complains about whatever. I'm not listening and I don't know how I've been doing all this since this afternoon. Susan apparently realizes how exhausted I am because she defends me during the twelve block argument on incomplete story.
A small smirk crosses my face as the thought that Rama's going to be pissed when the others tell him about my first encounter. As soon as Big Jim's in sight; Ana, Chris, John and Red rush forward to greet us with great excitement, before I get the cart to entrance everyone is together.
"Parts and associates delivered as promised."Rolling my kart past the group, leaving the kart at the door I shuffle towards the first couch in the lobby.
With a heavy and satisfying plunge coming down hard enough that my shoulder and ribs ache, it only matters for a second before I drift off, Chris and Ana ask, "What happened?"
Looking up at John and reaching out with my arm, "Can you ask them I'm spent bruh." The last thing I remember before I fade to black, everyone asks Susan and Rama, "What hap..."
What's the Plan, Man?
In a dreamless sleep of exhaustion despite the deepest desire to keep sleeping I can hear them still talking about me. "How long is he going to sleep?" That sounds like Ana's high pitch voice, "I'm not sure, do you want to wake him up?" I think that was Red, do I let them know I'm awake yet, nah, "No, is Chris done setting up the RV?"
Sitting up slow no one notices I'm just listening to the conversation. "Where are we going to go?" Susan says to Red who's thinking about what to do, "Where's the most likely place to get answers?" Red says as a question to anyone able to make a suggestion. John walks into the room followed by Chris and Rama noticing that I'm awake before all of the ladies notice, "Hey buddy, glad to see some color in your cheeks."
This catches everyone's attention as they all look at me I say, "Good morning." Ana corrects me, "Its twelve thirty six in the afternoon." Chris defends me in my sleeping habit, "To be fair he didn't return until almost two in the morning." Perhaps jealous that I had an uninterrupted ten hours of sleep Ana feels the need to point it out, "Still he was out for over ten hours, meanwhile..."
Red stops Ana in her tracks halting the verbal assault, "Meanwhile we're lucky to have him, he brought Rama and Susan back with the parts and a whole bunch of supplies." I'm glad to have someone defend me while they tell me I've been asleep for ten hours and it feels more like ten minutes. Red switches focus to more important matters, "What are our options?"
John is the first to respond, "I'm thinking Vegas!" Chris interjects, "For once John is close, actually we should head to Lake Tahoe." Susan asks curiously, "Why what's in Tahoe?" Just before Chris can explain John says, "That works for me!" "Well, apart from a spectacular forested view of one of California's most beautiful natural habitats."
Chris continues, "They have the closest, and most likely to still exist, alien research laboratory in the Western United States." John with no interest in anything but himself says, "As far as I'm concerned this guys on permanent vacation for the alien apocalypse." I'm beginning to enjoy Rama's sense of humor, I can't help but chuckle when he says, "In a past life you were the tiger who originated the habit of eating your own young."
With no other options presented the group turns towards me, as if to ask what I would suggest, "I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm heading south with Chris and John for now." Ana can be bitch, as she literally unleashes on me, "Why, to find your girlfriend? Didn't you say she Was flying! I've got news for you, are you ready? She's! Dead!"
Susan turns towards Ana and says, "Why, were you ready to consider Rama and I dead?" Discrediting Ana's statement using the scientific method Chris adds, "You cannot possibly have collected enough data to make such a statement with any certainty."
Simply defending my perspective with common sense logic Rama also adds, "It is my belief that if there's a chance she's alive who are you to say that she's dead for certain?" Under his breath, "Bitch." John mutters before Red shouts, "Enough! This isn't getting us anywhere!"
Fuming mad Red apparently hates arguing. "So we need a plan, so far Chris has suggested Lake Tahoe, does anyone else have any suggestions?" Rama sits back in the couch next to me as he says this patiently to everyone else looking for another option to consider without offering anything himself. Susan and Ana look to Red as she says, "Cheyenne Mountain in South Dakota is the most defensible position I know."
Looking around at everyone, all quiet Susan says, "Ok so, Cheyenne or Tahoe, do we split up or pick one?" Red looks over at me and says, "What's the plan man?" "Go ahead and split up if you want to, but I'm going south with Chris and John for Tahoe." Making my choice clear Chris makes another point, "There is safety in numbers, we stand a better chance going for the closer location."
Everyone agrees as this short debate managed to waste a few minutes of the day while I shake off the feeling of being exhausted even though they say I was asleep for over ten hours. Chris says, "Now if our selection has been confirmed would you like to follow me please." While he's facing everyone as he says this from the office doorway I can't help but think he's talking to me, whatever it is we all need to get ready to go, the only reason I don't say anything is because I haven't even been awake for ten minutes yet.
Walking behind everyone else I barely notice Chris duck behind the RV before bringing out the most beautiful old bike I've ever seen. "I had a feeling you would be accompanying John and I to Lake Tahoe, while discussing matters I took the liberty of obtaining you a working motorcycle." Looking at a vintage flat head Harley just like the one James Dean rode in, "Rebel Without a Cause", in shock desperately trying to hold back my excitement as I ask, "How did you know?" Chris says, "I discussed it with John, there was also a German military bike with a sidecar and an early era Indian."
From behind me John can be heard whispering, "I see the red door..." Still humming he says louder, "I told him the black Harley!" Returning to his humming I kind of wonder if John likes bikes too. "Wow, thank you, you don't know how much I've always wanted a bike like this I've just never been able to afford it." Chris doesn't know much about bikes because when I say I can't afford the Harley flat head he looks at me with a turned up eyebrow of confusion.
The moment I saw the flat head a feeling like karma has rewarded me with a treasured trophy, an energy comes over me willing me to spring to my feet. The exhausted feeling I had seconds ago gone like a distant memory as I bolt to my feet and cross the space between Chris and I like a lion leaping on fresh prey. Thoughts of running, hiding, fighting for my survival over the past day are all gone as I claim the bike from Chris.
Still talking about the trip while I go to the bike Red says, "So when should we go?" John already lounging back with a glass of Scotch says, "Let's go after dark, better chance staying undetected at night."
Swinging my left leg over the bike and settling into the seat the bike feels small, like a dirt bike. I notice all eyes on me again as Ana says, "Looks like Joes ready to go now." Ana letting out a small chuckle while Red says, "I think we should leave just before sunset so we can at least see well enough to get onto the highway."
Nodding in approval Susan and Rama return to double or triple checking preparations for the trip ahead. John refills his glass and says, "Fine with me I'm going to take a nap before I have to drive when the pumpkin people need to crash around nine!" Red claps her hand and announces, "Ok, so we leave just before sunset, all together for Tahoe."
Chris leaps in with a wagging finger, "Perhaps our new friend here can use this time to familiarize himself on the course in back?" Even though I was quite excited about the flat head I realize they intend for me to act as a scout. I guess it's easier to risk my life instead of their own, after we part ways matters little. The chance to ride a hundred thousand dollar artifact what are the chances?
"It's one twenty three which gives us time to finish and catch some rest before the trip." Red says, before being interrupted by Ana, "We should drive in two hour shifts." Finding a problem with that I speak up "Um, what about me? There's six of you to take turns driving but If I'm scouting when do I get to rest?"
Thinking about things Red and the others start debating, losing interest and daylight I start rolling the flat head towards the bay door, "When you brainiacs figure it out let me know, I'm gonna check out my ride." Going to the back lot track as they blather on about plans it's time I get a feel for her. Using the kick start like a dirt bike with extra punch the flat head roars to life.
Thupa, thupa, thup, thup, thup, the rhythmic drumming, beating in my chest, matching the beat to Van Halen's Hot for Teacher. Putting on a pair of sunglasses throttling forward, impossible to contain the wide jokers smile as I take the vintage work of art over a hill into a turn powering through the corner while kicking up dust on the dirt track. She feels powerful but rough on the ride.
Going through the course I wonder how Elvira will do on the road? That has me thinking about Rachael. I don't know why and even though I know nothing is ok, I get a feeling that she already landed, she's alive and Rachael's trying to get back to me.
Letting the throttle die coasting towards the entrance the momentary excitement gone replaced with an aching sorrow from head to toe. The vintage bike losing intrigue like a dime store toy in contrast to the longing of a lost love.
How many decades have I dreamed of owning historic rides, finally riding a holy grail and for all the impressive history it may as well be a paper cup. Rolling to a stop my phone rings for the second time since I accepted the phone with the new job, a job that held me back from Rachael while at the same time seeming like the only thing that could propel me forward.
"Joe?" "Who else, Dennis?" "Sorry this is the first time I've used a cellular telephone since the late ninety's." Thinking to myself, good thing I brought him an older cell.
"So, have you seen anything since last night?" Laughing Dennis says, "I hoped you'd tell me more about what happened before you took off like the white rabbit." Apologizing I say, "Sorry about that I met a group heading south, we're leaving just before sunset."
"I kinda figured out that part. What I wanted to know was, what was that explosion about down by the little league field?" "Ooh, that? Do you want the short version or the shorter version?" Taking a second to reply, "What's the shorter version?" "A pair of alien stun batons touched and well let's just say I'd highly advise against crossing the streams." I don't know if Dennis got my joke but he definitely understood that it was an energy based explosion.
"Shit son, don't make me ask for every little detail like some kid!" Dennis has his own way of asking, "Where do you want me to begin?" With more direction Dennis says, "How about what happened before the explosion, did someone go all Rambo on 'em?" Still not sure how to begin I start by telling him, "Ok, well, I followed a group of survivors that were following one of the aliens."
With a brief exclamation Dennis says, "Shit! They're still out collecting us huh?" Moving forward, "Yes, anyway..." Interrupting again Dennis has an epiphany, "That's where you got the thingamajig!" Frustrated I answer, "Not quite, can I finish the story Timmy?"
Grumbling and recognizing that his interrupting me is pissing me off Dennis says, "Ok, but don't fucking call me Timmy! My Names Dennis boy, remember that! I was knee deep in rice paddies before you were even fucking born and don't you forget it!" Recognizing my jokes aren't so funny to Dennis I apologize and get on with it.
"Sorry, just kidding. Anyway, I followed a group being led to the ship, when I got close I listened to them saying this was the last pickup for this sector." Asking the obvious, "How?" "With the alien communicator."
Instantly questioning me Dennis asks, "Wait, how'd you get the thingamajig before that explosion?" Remembering back to my first meeting with the aliens I say, "That's another story, before I met most of the scientists."
Getting lost in the story Dennis says, "Ok, so you already had the thingamajig, so gettin' that was a whole 'nother story? Damn son you are full of surprises ain't cha! Alright go ahead and just finish this part, I'll ask later about the rest. "
Glad Dennis doesn't need every detail I continue, "Ok, so I'm listening to the aliens when a commander says this is the last pick up, I thought if I should make a move or run and hide.
I got close watching what the aliens, a few ship guards, the pilot, two giant collectors and a mutant saber tooth tiger wolf hybrid, I thought with the Molotov's it might just be able to make a difference. So I got the Molotov's ready..." Unable to not interrupt Dennis says, "Told ya they might come in handy didn't I. So what next." Since he kept his point short I continue, "I threw the Molotov's, the first one on the pilot who looked human with glowing skin. The second and third I threw at the mutant beast next to two a pair of collectors. The first hit the pilot just as it got into the pilots compartment, the second hit the giant collector talking to the giant commander, and the third hit the mutant beast next to them."
"Damn son, kicking ass and taking names!" Thinking about it, "I was scared shitless. I know I was lucky but I don't know how I made it." "Were there more of them?" Answering I say, "Yeah, even though the collectors and the pilot were flailing around on fire I had to deal with two ship guards and another mutant beast I didn't notice at first."
With a barking laugh Dennis says, "Holy shit son, you're a one man wrecking crew! One crazy tough sonofabitch!" Coughing accented by another cigarette being lit, "Wait, ya gotta tell me what happened to the three on fire? But can you call the beast Curly, the Pilot Moe, the commander Shemp and the other giant Larry, that'll make it funny as shit!"
Humoring Dennis, "Ok, Moe and Larry were running around arms flailing on fire when Curly pounced on Shemp and bit off his head." On the other end of the phone Dennis has a laughing fit, catching his breath he says, "Oh, oh, oh boy, son this story is just too good, ok so now what?" "The ship guards recognize me and came at me, I pulled out the pistol you gave me and aimed at the first one firing twice.
One shot missed but the other one went through an eye. I had to turn to fire three more shots at the second guard coming at me, the first hit it in the leg, the second hit it in the chest and the last shot went through his throat."
"You set off a shit storm, so how many more didja get before the weird electrified supersonic explosion I saw?" Thinking it over for a second, "Um, ok three more beasts, two more collectors and another guard?" Scoffing in disbelief, I can't blame him, I can barely believe the story myself, shit it sounds like something out of a comic book turned into a movie before being made into a game. Amazed Dennis says, "You gotta be fucking kidding me now kid! So you took on what a dozen aliens?
Roasting a few," Pausing for a couple laughs, "Can I call you, The Baker Man, oh no I get it Pills berry Dough Boy, oh, how about Betty Crocker?" Laughing Dennis gets out a few smart ass names before becoming serious."Kidding aside, when the mother ship realizes their box truck aint comin' their gonna be comin' for it."
Thinking about the situation, "Yeah, I was thinking the same thing, have you seen anything yet?" Dennis says, "Naw, I went down to the grocery store, and looked out towards the field, ships still there so I don't want to get close until everything's all clear."
"Yeah, I hear ya on that. That's why we're waiting until sunset to go so we can get under cover. Ok, well I told survivors to head for sewers and basements. You might come across some people scrounging around town." With a grumble Dennis says, "Alright, but if shit gets all crazy I'm headed back to the culvert until the aliens are all gone. Hey, since you're gonna be out on the road can you page me when you see something?"
Thinking about it I say, "I'll send you a text to let you know it's clear." "What's a text?" Accessing the sub menu I attach the course city map and my path as a overlay along with a text message of it. Waiting a moment to hear his phone buzz and twinkle indicating he got the message. "This is a text." Realizing that even this phone is a versatile tool Dennis says, "Ok, I'll check it in a minute, thanks for everything Joe."
I can tell Dennis wanted to say more but just couldn't find the words to express the meaning of those few simple gestures of good will. Hanging up the phone I head back inside with the flat head lugging the old gal past the garage doors, waiting for me patiently Chris asks, "So, how do you like the ride?" Smiling, waiting for more praise.
"Well she needs a tune up and she idles overpowered. My ass is numb from the top up from the hard leather seat so a soft tail mod or gel pad on the seat would help a lot."The smile replaced, "I suggested a modern dirt bike for this trip but John thought you would prefer this antique."
Coming around the corner Red says, "John felt you'd appreciate something with character." Appreciating the thought I say, "Oh, I love the flat head, but riding her on that stiff seat, power jerking between throttle shifting, it's not easy."
Chris proclaiming his original intentions, "I originally suggested to John that I could perform some much needed modifications. However he insisted I present it to you as quote un-quote, stock." Did he just say quote un-quote out loud?
I appreciate Chris wanting to provide the best bike for the journey as well as John wanting to present the flat head all original, just like out of the movie. "Thanks Chris, I know it's weird to say this but you're both right. You're right it needs some work to be good for the road and John was right I loved seeing it old school."
Chris begins to say, "Well I need..." Cut off by Red, "I don't care about the bike, I want to go over the route to Tahoe!" Red points to a road atlas map. "Do you think we'll be able to follow I5 to California?" Chris answers Red before I can say anything. "With the apocalypse starting at rush hour? The I5's going to be packed, hey local boy, what do you think?"
Answering Red I tell her. "Id head out on Route 26 past the Warm Springs Res and switch to I97 when we get to Madras." Susan agrees, "I agree." Of course Chris reaffirms his point, again, "I concur, Joe has an amazing affinity for the best course of action as common sense dictates calculable course of outcome."
Pointing to the map as I continue, "We follow it past Bend onto La Pine, switch to road 31 until Valley Falls." Everyone but John is by me while I go over our trip plan, "At Valley Falls we can connect to highway 395 down to Reno, Carson City and finally Tahoe." Chris of course points out the trip distance, "By my calculations the journey is approximately five hundred forty-seven point eight miles.
The RV only travels six point nine miles per gallon average."Droning on, "With two twenty gallon tanks and even with the extra four twenty gallon containers we may not have enough fuel for the trip." Red turns towards Rama to ask, "Do we have enough room for more gas cans if we could find more?" Disinterested in more preparation work Rama replies, "I guess so but it would be a lot easier to simply find a gas station along the way to fill up."
Taking charge again Red says, "Ok so how close are we to leaving?" I don't know what it is but something in the air isn't the same, distant, ominous, unpredictable. I'm getting a weird feeling, I just want to go and find Rachael as soon as I can. Putting my paranoia aside, the mother ship must know by now.
Holding up a hand like he's in elementary school Chris says, "As I was attempting to tell Joe before I was derailed by travel plans, I need to make some quick adjustments which will not delay the departure schedule."
Continuing to list his efforts to acquire parts to modify the bike in anticipation of my observations, "I've already located suitable replacement rear springs, some over sized dirt bike tires, and a more comfortable seat I should be able to fit to the smaller frame of the antique bike."
John literally barges in with one word shouted, "Sacrilege!" Expressing his disgust for the idea to modify the flat head, "Why not just set up a dirt bike instead of desecrating that pristine vintage machine?"
Everyone including myself turns towards Chris, "The power ratio of the flat head motor properly tuned can reach a potential in excess of one hundred forty miles per hour as exemplified by the one hundred forty-eight mile per hour record set in two thousand nine at the Bonneville Salt Flats.
While the average dirt bike performance is limited as dirt bikes are also more impeded by the weight of the rider and since Joe happens to be rather large a modified variation with attributes from both styles of motorized bicycle is optimal."
Losing interest as Chris goes into over explaining again John groans, "Yes optimal whatever, who the fuck cares you can't Frankenstein her, she's the holy grail of bikes!" Detached from any false sentiment for the old world Chris replies, "Would it not be a greater tragedy for the world we know to end without this antique seeing purpose one last time?"
Echoed by the other scientists voicing support, "Touché." Relenting to logic John says defeated, "I just thought Joe would prefer the flat head in its original restored majesty."
Sticking with the choice to mod the bike, "Sure, I love the flat head au natural. She's gorgeous as is, when I don't have a six hundred mile trip." Annoyed at the misogynistic fawning over an inanimate object held up on a pedestal as a rare and delicate beauty.
Red kind of snaps, "Ok, so if I can pause you all from sucking off the tail pipe in this little homoerotic motorcycle god orgy, can I get a fucking ETA, Chris, John, Joe, when can we get on the god damn road, out of this hell hole, and get some answers to what the fuck is next!"
Completely stunned at Reds references Chris breaks the uncomfortable silence like a timid child afraid of being yelled at even more. "I will be prepared with all vehicle modifications at the scheduled departure time approximately one half hour before sunset at five fifteen."
Susan interjects on my behalf, "We should find a motorcycle trailer for the RV so Joe doesn't have to ride the whole way." Red points out part of the big picture.
"That's nice of you, but have you forgotten, Joe is the only person with relevant combat experience. I know if we hadn't locked ourselves inside after Raman and Sushi left for parts, we all would have been together on that freighter for the lost." Did Red just call Rama and Susan ramen and sushi?
Susan looks like she's going to defend herself against Red but all she manages to say is, "But..." Chris interrupts, "For whatever reason Joe is immune to the mind control wave subsonic frequency emitter." Lashing out again at Chris, Red says through her teeth, "Does it fucking control people's minds?"
Answering her as just a point of fact completely missing that she's pissed Chris says, "Yes, however this is achieved through a specific scientifically based process..." Red cuts him off, "Fine, subsonic frequency emitter, use the technically correct words instead of just saying Joe's immune to thought control, so what do we need to do?"
Calmly Rama says, "Relax and quit yelling at everyone." At first everyone else kinda nods, again the uncomfortable silence returns while everyone drifts apart into smaller groups. Red looks exhausted from arguing with everyone, with everyone else gone I walk over to Red showing a warm smile I start to talk, "Hey I know you're freaked out, so am I. But you've got to calm down. The group needs you. Even if you're not the top brain you keep them focused."
Still upset but getting over it through a joke Red fires a zinger back, "Well if I didn't John would never stop drinking, Ana would spend every second in a mirror and Chris wouldn't talk to anyone." Trying to remind her of the goal, "Ok I get it, but we've got to stick together." Raising an eyebrow and smirking, "Why, as soon as we get to Tahoe you're ditching us to rescue princess peach!"
Being practical I say, "What do you care as long as I help you get to Tahoe we still have a better chance of making it together." Even more angry if that's possible, "Yeah, then what? You're gonna go another thousand miles just to get yourself killed? Has it even occurred to you that you might be important to all of humanity?" Looking at me like the guy that pushes on a door you're supposed to pull.
Red's getting on my nerves talking down to me all the time. "Why do you think I would be a scientist when my father's a fucking general? I grew up around all the government alien research, aliens are real and they're collecting survivors for something. You're immune, that's fucking important, important enough that you need to come to Tahoe!"
Freaked out I ask, "What do you think they want?" "Chris thinks they're collecting galactic miners, something about the Annunaki and ancient mining on earth. What do you think?" Being honest I say, "I don't know what they want with us, I'm just trying to get back to the only woman I ever wanted to marry before it's too late."
Ready with the negativity, "It's already too late, how do you know she's even alive still?" With a shrug I say, "I don't." Trying to convince me Red says in a pleading tone, "Why keep going after her?" Before I can respond she says, "I have no interest in becoming an intergalactic slave." How does someone respond to that "Me either, but what can I do, just stop. Let me think and I'll tell you what I'm going to do when we get to Tahoe." Red still can't relax, a second later she gets he point across one more time.
"Fine, what choice do I have? You'll do what you want it doesn't matter what I say." Walking away I say, "Everything matters." After leaving Red I head over to the work shop. Chris and John working on the flat head, John look over as I walk into the room, the garage bay door wide open.
Holding a cigar in one hand and a drink in the other John looks more like an off duty bouncer than a scientist. Chris completes a last weld on Elvira before turning of the torch lifting his welding hood turning to me smiling with pursed lips he stands and moves aside for me to examine his work. "You'll notice the pattern of the welds enhance the stability and strength while showing a symmetrical efficiency." Looking at the welds Chris is an absolute perfectionist, the suspension from a soft tail masterfully crafted custom onto the flat head as if it always belonged. With a smile and a nod John winks and says, "She's ready for a test ride, motor's tuned and ready to go,"
Interrupting John, Chris says, "I've replaced some minor parts with more efficient counterparts as well as fitted the bike with storage accoutrement's and an improved seat with..." If John didn't say it I would have, "Shut up!"
Taking the moment to slip away for the test ride while Chris and John argue. Whatever made me take off I'm glad I did, taking Elvira out for a second date the strength tuned to perfection idling like a purring panther.
No longer shaking and vibrating up through my spine I give her some throttle, accelerating smooth, gone are jolts of untamed power between throttle shifts. Gliding through a turn glancing down at the speedometer hover just above fifty on a thirty five degree bank in a hundred twenty degree turn.
Gripping like the tires are on magnetic rails handling well. Time for some open road, pulling out into the street I feel ready to soar on an epic journey. Heading towards the clear street I push Elvira up to eighty. On a long stretch I slow down to turn around and make another run. On the return pass I let her rip before letting go of the throttle.
Just listening to the full power echoing through the empty streets, slowing to a cruising idle listening to the hum, ok play times over, time to go back. Going back to Big Jim's a few blocks from the dealership everyone in the street arguing.
About this time they stop arguing as I come closer all of them have a demanding expression the only one smiling is John. "I told you he didn't leave yet, he was just taking her out to open her up."
Expecting Red to read me the riot act, instead she just walks away, Chris wearing an excited grin asks, "Well, what do you think?" Rama and Susan trail off toward the building with Ana looking back as she heads off with everyone else.
Coming to a stop right next to Chris and John, I say, "I think you're amazing! She rides like a dream, I was worried with the dirt bike tires would have too much grip and feel jerky but she rides as smooth as silk to me." Smiling Chris rolls his eyes, "Stop, you flatter me." John adds in, "Whatever Chrissie you love it when someone truly appreciates your work." John and Chris follow me as I roll Elvira towards the entrance. On the way inside Chris ever the perfectionist, "Is there anything I can improve?" John the pragmatist moves things along, "Let it go, we have other stuff to show off. What about the other stuff Joe found that you were playing with while he was crashed out?" Once again Chris begins going into some over technical explanation that passes through like a white noise machine, looking over at him, like a black and white movie I wonder to myself. Am I holding the button on the universal translator?
I understand what he's saying by feeling it, "The universal translators were easy to set up, however in order to work on the lightning rods I need a lab." John teases Chris, "C'mon Chrissie don't be so afraid to show some leg."
Having no concept of what John means Chris starts to defend himself, "Well for your..." John cuts him off, "I meant, don't be so modest. Show him what you've been working on." In the work shop Chris begins, "Well in my preliminary..."
Before he can go on again I cut him off myself, "The short version please." With no small degree of irritation Chris blurts out, "Combined crystals! Amplified power! Multi-purpose! Send! Receive! Message! Pulse! Burst!" Stunned at his spastic shouting, "Um, what?"
Not improving anything he repeats, "Combined crystals! Amplified power! Multi-purpose! Send! Receive! Message! Pulse! Burst! Was that over simplified or not simple enough for you!" Replying without any sarcasm or negativity, "Over simplified. I just didn't want a full lecture."
Less irritated at this opportunity to provide at least some detail. "Using all three crystals the subsonic device can now focalize and release a powerful subsonic pulse on a chosen object, observe." Before Chris uses the device John adds in like a cheesy eighty's game show host. "Tell the contestant the awesome power he's just won!"
Using the improved device Chris puts the device to his mouth holding down the transmit button a few seconds before speaking into it, "Move!" A subtle ripple through the air from the device towards a parked truck moving it about a foot.
"What happens if you focus on something lighter, can you say something besides move?" Answering for Chris, John says, "Awe, sorry boss, we don't know that yet, li'l Chrissie here's too chicken shit to try that."
Backing off a moment returning the floor back to Chris, "Yes well I felt it best to limit my testing to provide you more opportunity to test limitations." Patiently waiting for my reply, "Thank you, so I hold down the transmit button for a few seconds before I speak, building up a background resonance?"
Impressed at my level of understanding Chris asks, "Yes! Have you done research in subsonic frequency resonance previously?" Answering back, "No, well kind of. Network IT wireless communications."
Smiling with his typical pursed lip smile, Chris simply says, "Ahh, I see." Picking up an empty pop can from the trash can I put the pop can on the corner of the trucks hood, holding the button down, one, two, three, "Can!"
Even faster than moving the truck and with greater intensity the pop can flies across the hood like a bullet striking the dumpster a good fifty feet away with enough force to flatten the can and embed it in the dumpster. "I guess we know what happens now when you use it on a lighter object."
Hoping to move along I'm disappointed when Chris feels the need to ramble off scientific details, "I had suspected that the density of the object, divided by mass, multiplied by the force entered into the object equals velocity over distance traveled. The resulting impact force..."
John thankfully jumps in summarizing what Chris was already saying, "OK, so big stuff moves less distance." If holding down the button for a few seconds, thinking it over I push the button purposefully holding it down longer, five, six, seven, the hairs on my arm begin to raise.
A hum fills the air as I speak into the device, "Bubblegum!" Focused on the truck, the resonance a ripple through the air in a visible wave of force hitting the front of the truck.
Pushing the truck back rolling to a standing point on its wheels for a moment before sending the truck up end over end landing and caving in the roof. All three of us together say, "Oh shit!" Speaking matter of fact, "Well now we know it gets more powerful the longer you hold it."
Chris pointing out the obvious danger, "I would caution not to use this feature too often or at such intensity before the device has been sufficiently tested under suitable laboratory conditions."
While Chris, John and I talk about this the others come back out all looking at the turned over truck saying, "Holy shit!" Red looks over at us with a scolding look, "Warn someone when you're going to start flipping trucks over!" Astonished Rama exclaims, "Amazing, we were working with subsonic frequency weaponry for the past three decades, but nothing nearly as powerful as this."
Mocking the situation Red clears her throat. "Ok, so can we all pack up for the trip or do you need to flip over a few more cars first?" Grinning first at Chris and I, John looks over towards Rama with a nod and a wink, "One more, can I see that?"
I hand John the alien device, he looks over towards Red raising an eyebrow and patiently waiting for her reply. Smiling and rolling her eyes feigning mock frustration, secretly wanting to see it in action for herself, "Yeah sure why the fuck not!" Like a boy eager to light his first bottle rocket he holds the activation pad, one, two, three, four, five, six, releasing the wave on the already flipped over truck.
John speaks into the alien device, "Mua, deeb!" Instead the force hits the truck pushing it backwards spraying sparks in the air six feet high for a dozen feet. Red back on focus, "Alright, are we all done for now boys?" Without a word sharing a smile instead we all head back towards the garage to finish packing. Again fishing for compliments as John hands me the alien device, Chris prods, "What do you think of my improvements?"
Red moves closer to Chris and whispers in his ear, "He's happy, now finish getting ready. Ok." I'm not sure if she's getting the same feeling telling me the window of time to leave unnoticed is getting shorter. I do know I desperately want to be with Rachael.
I feel that the alien mother ship's leaders going to want to find out what happened to the collector ship, we have to get going soon. Since everyone's making final preparations I walk over to the couch and fall back into it drifting towards sleep fading the second my head hits the armrest.
On the Road Again
Moments pass too quick to give any sensation of relief. Already noticing I'm awake Chris is waiting to spew out some useless details. "I've made modifications to boost radio communication range. When you get about a mile out of town I would like you to call, I've taken the liberty of integrating your communications list." Stepping into the lobby Red looks right at me, "Get your beauty sleep?"
John likes to play opposition to Red as he comes to my defense. "Lay off Red, he's riding that steel horse for hours. He's going to need more rest than any of us." Downplaying her sarcastic insult, "I was kidding, I just wanted to see if Joe would be ready to head out soon."
Standing up, arching my back and grabbing my hands together behind my back I begin going into a light yoga stretching routine just to see if I can rattle Reds cage. Going through a few motions before letting out a satisfying yawn, "Yeah, give me a minute to take a leak and I'll go ahead about a mile for starters, ok?"
Red smiles and gives a nod of approval, taking care of business I finish up in the bathroom and come back out making a few stretches before I put on the helmet and take my place on Elvira. With most of the gear on the RV I head out ahead of the group.
Riding my silhouette against the backdrop of a setting sun, the wind in my face, the subtle warmth of sun fading as my mind wanders to a comfortable place. The rhythm smoothly rumbling as I ride Elvira out the mile before stopping to make the call back. "Come in red team, this is... blue goose?" Pausing a moment before saying blue goose a few seconds later the bleep sounds off a second before I hear Red, "Blue goose, red team copy." Chris adds in, "Blue goose, increase range one mile, over."
Humoring him for now, "Roger, red team. Increasing range one mile, over." Thinking to myself, it's going to be a long night of reporting back and forth until I dial in the range, before heading off I consider going ahead five miles instead, a feeling comes over me telling me to go with my gut. The low rumble of Elvira, riding down the side of the road sunlight fading as the sky above begins turning dark.
One last time, I stop, calling back to red team, "Red team this is blue goose, do you read me? Over." This time taking a few extra seconds later the bleep sounds off a couple seconds before Red replies, "Roger blue goose. Increase range another mile, over."
I can't keep doing this, this slow procedural phase may be the scientific method of testing limits but we don't have time for this shit, "Negative red team, I have already traveled to six miles ahead of you. Communication range is fine, it's time to go. Now!" Even though I'm forgoing the Rogers and over's, Red replies back, "Roger, moving out now at forty miles per hour, over."
Heading out looking forward to more than ten minutes without an argument, finally on the road again my mind begins wandering to the jukebox of my mind. Sunlight waning I turn on the single headlight. Coming down the night, drifting from golden orange to hues of purple and blue, all light fading from sight as night comes before you realize everything fades to black with only the moon and stars to guide me.
Making my selection without even being aware I begin humming the tune before I sing along with the music in my mind, "Get your motor running..." What song could be more perfect for this moment riding in the night toward my destiny embracing the challenge ahead of me, for better or worse...
Bibliography
CERN. (2016, 2 21). Retrieved 2 21, 2012/2016, from CERN:
Friebus, P. (2010, 10 10). Great Vintage News from Bonneville 2010! Retrieved 2 21, 2010/2016, from wheels through time:
Heussner, K. M. (2011, 4 11). FBI Vault Reveals UFO, Roswell Files. Retrieved 2 21, 2011/2016, from ABC News.Go:
Kaku, M. (2011). The Physics of the Future. United States: Doubleday.
King, G. (2013, 2 4). The Rise and Fal of Nikola Tesla and his Tower. Retrieved 2 21, 2013/2016, from :
NASA. (2016, 2 21). Voyager The Interstellar Mission. Retrieved 2 21, 2015/2016, from NASA:
Tyson, N. d. (2007). Death by Black Hole: And Other Cosmic Quandaries. United States: W.W. Norton.
Acknowledgement
Within this original work of science fiction no citations are used. The scientific concepts in this work are directly influenced by the aforementioned references, this is not a complete listing of my scientific influences.
I would like to thank everyone who has inspired me through; science, art, music, literature, TV, movies, games and stand-up comedy, but that would take another book.
Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me IRL without family and friends what do we have. Tia, thanks for being there, keeping me looking forward to every day as another chance to have someone to hold on to until the end.
Last but not least thank you the reader for reading Whatever Can Go Wrong Will. ( Sincerely: J03 G4M3R
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