SODIUM Trilogy Part One

by Stephen Arseneault

  The military had only been able to track its initial trajectory, which was headed toward a star about ten light-years away. We had no way of knowing how long it had taken them to get here or how long it would take them to get home. We were just glad they were gone.

  For more than four years, the nations of the world had been adjusting to the new order of things. Food had been the biggest world problem, with millions in the lesser nations having starved or been displaced to areas where food was available. Transport across the Atlantic was almost non-existent. Even in the U.S., the curbed communications had been detrimental. Time had remedied that problem, but not before hardships had set in.

  With the food supplies disrupted, there had also been a number of military skirmishes with civilians who were just in search of food to feed their families. Many a man would turn to savagery on others if it meant the survival of himself or his family. According to the General, many a man had.

  It had taken more than a year for our government and military to get our own society to a somewhat stable and sustainable state. Many in the Southeast had fled to the western states to get as far away from the aliens as possible.

  The historians would no doubt have a field day with the recent events, and the politicos would all second-guess themselves and fall all over each other in search of someone to blame.

  I, for one, was looking forward to living without the immediate threat of annihilation.

  My first priority would be to see that my little family would be able to stay intact. Rachel and Janie had an aunt and uncle in Missouri, and David’s grandparents lived on Long Island. We really had not had time to discuss any of this among ourselves with the events unfolding before us so quickly, and our minds still occupied with our survival.

  I was certain the others all felt the same as me; we had become as close as family could be over the last few years. I briefly made mention of this to the General, and he said he thought we would be granted just about anything we wanted at this point. I was eager to get back to civilization and all the comforts and conveniences that came with it.

  We posed in front of the downed fighter for a final photo op. As we stood there for several pictures, Janie decided to go over to the helper robot and pose with her foot on top of it in triumph. As the camera flashed, I heard a metallic screech, and I turned just in time to see the helper robot grab onto Janie’s shoe as she screamed and tried to jump away. I dove onto the machine and attempted to free her. Her shoe was released, but only because of the bigger prize now in the robot's grasp.

  Of the three multi-jointed legs on the robot, only one seemed to be functioning. Using its one available claw, the robot released Janie's shoe and then clamped down hard on my left arm, cutting into it just below the shoulder and stripping it to the bone down to the elbow.

  With a second effort, it grabbed my left collarbone, immediately shattering it. The claw had pierced my skin and was digging in ever deeper when a lieutenant who had been standing close by pulled his weapon and fired repeated rounds into the dome. Almost as soon as it had begun, it was over, but the damage to my body had been done.

  I passed out from the pain as shock set in and the medics got to work. It took them a full hour to separate the mechanical arm from my shoulder, to stabilize me, and to get us ready to medevac to Savannah. David and the girls sat helplessly by, now only able to watch as my life was in peril. David later said the flight to Savannah had taken an eternity.

  Once at the military hospital in Savannah, it took sixteen hours to patch me up. I was told later it had been touch and go for me because of the extent of the damage, but the medics and doctors had done a tremendous job of keeping me alive.

  I was also told later that my arm was damaged too severely to be saved and that I would be outfitted with a prosthetic once I had healed enough. They let me know I would likely need several more surgeries over the coming years to get back some use of what was left of my shoulder. We spent the next four months at the army hospital in Savannah, where I began my rehab and recovery.

  Chapter 22

  * * *

  It had been six months since the alien craft had left. My life was filled from dawn until dusk with physical therapy, interviews, PR stunts, and other meetings with world dignitaries. It seemed the population of the world felt they were in our debt.

  Every movie company was hounding us; every news network covered whether we were having lunch with the Queen of England or breaking wind with some pro wrestler. And the gifts and thank-yous just kept coming in an endless stream.

  By vote and generosity of the nations of the world, me and my little family were the newest multimillionaires on the planet, with each being granted a sum of a hundred million dollars—tax-free, of course.

  We were invited to every corner of the world and received a king’s welcome at the few we had time to visit. I had promised our President to keep the good-citizen-of-the-world tour going for at least six months in the hopes of bringing the world a little bit closer together. It was like an endless vacation with our every need and whim being catered to. Whatever we asked for was provided with the utmost of speed, respect, and courtesy.

  Fortunes would be made and lost on our road back to normalcy. Politicians and even whole nations would no doubt rise and fall, as they had throughout civilization. There was already bickering between our government and others over access to whatever technology the aliens had left behind and to whatever weapons we had used to defeat them. Except for the one fighter left on the beach, there was no alien technology remaining. And that fighter had been spirited away to be studied before anyone else would know of its existence.

  The government immediately invited the nations of the world to survey the area of the battle to see for themselves that the aliens had cleaned up after their losses. As far as our coil guns went, they were not acknowledged. They were all now heavily guarded state secrets and would not make their way into anyone else's hands for a long, long time.

  It would likely take our military scientists years to uncover the secrets of their technology, let alone be to able to gain any advantage from it. I for one was glad it was in the hands of a free democracy, however imperfect it sometimes was. We had the same story to tell everywhere we went, and that story included the robot sprayers doing a thorough job of tidying up.

  David was set up for admission to MIT the coming fall. Not because of any need of an income in the future, but because he was truly fascinated by engineering and wanted to make a contribution to society that was of his own making.

  I had no doubt he would once again make his mark at some future venture. It also put him close enough to his grandparents where there would be frequent visits. We, of course, would be visiting with him every chance we could.

  Rachel and Janie chose to stay with me, and the adoption papers were already in the works. I couldn’t have been a prouder father of those two, and I knew I would enjoy the closeness we shared for the rest of our lives.

  Even though they really had no need of it, they were both eager to start school again in the fall as well. Their lives from here on would no doubt be anything but normal, so any little bit of normalcy they could get, they would welcome.

  With my new bankroll and popularity, the ladies were also out in force, throwing themselves before my feet. "Ladies" may not have been the proper term, but I was flattered nonetheless. My heart still belonged to one person. I had wondered how Renee was doing, if she was single, and if she still had feelings for me.

  On a trip back through the States, I sent out an assistant to gather info. My eyes lit up when he returned and told me she was still in Detroit and had never remarried. I was on the phone to her that evening and asked if I could see her. She accepted. I had my schedule changed for a meeting with her the following day.

  I didn’t sleep much that night. I was so nervous. On one hand, I argued that she would want me back because I had just saved the world, but on the other, I wondered if she would want me back at all after the
way I had treated her before our split.

  My heart and my happiness were still heavily invested in her. And what would she think of my new family? My head swirled with all the thoughts of once again seeing her.

  She and her father had continued to roll in the money for the years after she and I divorced. Her mother had passed just before the invasion, and she and her father had turned their vast wealth and resources toward helping those who had been displaced.

  Their worth was now only a pittance of what it had been, but their lives had been greatly enriched by all the giving. It was funny. I now had all this newfound wealth that I had so desired when younger, but I would give it all away in an instant to get her back.

  My driver pulled up to Renee’s home on a Tuesday afternoon. She still lived in the same place Frank had purchased for us as our wedding gift. She had just returned from a morning of coordinating help for those less fortunate and was still standing in the drive.

  Janie, Rachel, and Heinz stayed in the limo. When I got out, it took every ounce of my strength to keep myself from running to her. I walked nervously forward, took her hand, and stared into her beautiful blue eyes. There were a million "sorrys" I was ready to say, but nothing came out, and I just stood there staring at her. She then pulled me close for a long, tight hug, and as the tears came, I knew I would be a happy man for the rest of my life.

  Even with all my earlier transgressions, I had somehow been blessed. The world was alive, and I was surrounded by people I loved who also loved me. My loneliness was over.

  I introduced the girls moments later. Renee was warm and welcoming. I was bursting with pride and happiness. My world was finally complete.

  Our bunker and farm complex had been designated as a national historical site and would no doubt one day be a popular travel destination for vacationers. It had served us well those few years, and I knew we would each long for it in one way or another. Janie’s chickens and cows, Rachel’s garden, and David’s tinkering—they would all be missed, but never forgotten.

  I had tracked down Pete's parents, who were still in good health, and made a generous sum of money available to them. Even though I had only known Pete for a short time, he had still been my best friend and had accounted for much of our success against the invaders. His parents would be well cared for in their final years.

  With all my happiness, with all my fame and popularity, and with my newfound family and wealth, I still had the fact buried deep down in the back of my mind that our alien foes would one day return. Would we be ready for them? Would they come in larger numbers? Would they have newer and more powerful ships, weapons, and shields? These were all questions that could drive a man crazy— if he were to dwell on them for long.

  So that day I decided, since I had no control over those events, I was just going to tuck those thoughts neatly away in the back of my mind; they were no longer going to bother me. My life was to be lived day to day with a minimum of thought given to the future. I would spend the next few years funding Renee and Frank’s humanitarian efforts before we turned the organization over to a charity foundation.

  I looked forward to spending more time with Renee and keeping tabs on David, Rachel, and Janie, who were all now young adults and were thriving. The rest of the world would obsess over the aliens for years to come, and I was all too happy to turn the reins of that obsession over to them.

  As I write these last thoughts, my feet are propped up on the railing of our houseboat with a fishing line in the water. The sun is beginning to set, and Renee is sitting beside me reading with Heinz lying beside us on the deck. The girls and David are out riding their jet skis. The world still has its problems and probably forever will, but for Renee, the girls, David, and me, it is the eve of another perfect, peaceful day.

  ~~~~~

  SODIUM

  (Vol. 3)

  Fusion

  Chapter 1

  * * *

  Alarms were sounding all over. Four satellites had been destroyed. The last time it had happened was almost seventy years before during the Sodium Apocalypse. Bases were on high alert. Fighters and warships scrambled. The world was on edge. The media were all asking if the aliens had returned. The Commander in Chief had not yet provided an answer.

  During the Sodium Apocalypse (SA), three large alien craft descended on the Tampa, Florida, area. Armed with gravity-wave concussion weapons, they flattened the city, killing every human being. The alien attackers then proceeded to move across the state, cutting a wide swath, crushing and destroying first Orlando and finally the Daytona Beach area.

  The attack only lasted a few days, but the cities and the surrounding suburbs for a hundred-mile-wide path had been completely annihilated. Only a handful of survivors remained.

  The aliens were initially met with futile resistance, as their technologies were far superior to our own. They demanded that no radio broadcasts of any type be made and no aircraft leave the ground. They gave notice that all humans remaining on the peninsula of Florida be removed. For three weeks, every resource available was used to make that happen.

  Ships could not sail in the Eastern Atlantic or Gulf Coast regions. Any violations would be met with swift retribution. The governments of the United States and the rest of the world quickly capitulated to the aliens’ demands, and a peaceful coexistence ensued.

  The alien ships had come to mine sodium from the oceans. The bloodbath had been a warning that they were not to be trifled with. A group of four civilians had managed to stay alive in Central Florida during the aftermath, with no communications they were unaware of the survival of the rest of the world.

  For more than three years, they struggled to rebuild some semblance of a normal life… a sustainable life. For more than three years, they cowered under the protection of any cover they could find. During that time, they worked feverishly on a weapon they hoped to be able to use for hunting. It was a coil gun made with a mystery technology that one of the survivors had received as a young boy. It had been thrust into his hand by an old stranger while on a family vacation.

  With the computer wizardry of a teenage survivor, the coil gun soon became a formidable weapon. It was far more powerful than the survivors had ever dreamed. With the new weapon, the group decided it was time for mankind to take back what was rightfully theirs. It was time for revenge.

  A set of hard-fought ambushes ensued, destroying two of the immense alien craft and driving the third from the planet. Only then did they learn that the rest of the world was still alive. The Sodium Apocalypse had forever changed the path of man.

  Although it had not become a perfect world, the peoples of Earth and their governments had learned to cooperate and settle arguments without the use of a sword. Each nation retained a military, as real trust was something that still only existed on the surface. A peaceful coexistence of nations had continued, but with an always watchful eye.

  I was in transition from my previous gig with a fighter wing to my new assignment in the Astronaut Corps. If a fight was coming, I reasoned that chances were good I would be involved. I had applied repeatedly to the USAC only to be rejected due to several infractions on my otherwise stellar record.

  I was a great pilot, but I sometimes neglected to follow the rules. A Mach 2 beach flyover to impress a girlfriend and a drunken fight in the officers’ lounge were two of my stable of infractions. I was sure I had only been allowed to stay in the service due to my family connections.

  My great-uncle, David Brenner, was revered throughout the world. He was our nation’s top scientist. He was the same David Brenner who as a teenager had helped defeat the aliens during the Sodium Apocalypse. As his great-nephew, I had many doors opened to me throughout my still-young career.

  The first was in college... where I was not always the best student. Next was in the Naval Academy, where I had stepped on a number of toes of high-ranking officers. My commission as a UAV pilot had surely only been granted out of respect for my great-uncle. And now, my acceptance
into the newly formed USAC was likely also from his doing.

  After the Sodium Apocalypse, David Brenner and his team of nearly forty top scientists had been working diligently on high-priority projects. It had taken almost three years to gain entry into the lone damaged alien fighter that had survived. Up until that day, only a handful of scientists, restricted military personnel, and the President himself were aware of the craft's existence.

  The world had been told there was no surviving wreckage from the apocalypse. All had been led to believe the remaining alien craft had left the planet after cleaning up any wreckage. That statement had been true except for this one remaining vessel.

  The alien fighter had been outfitted with a canister of highly corrosive liquid. When disabled, the craft would release the canister, which would in turn cover the ship with a corrosive mist. Within ten minutes, the craft would dissolve into nothingness. My uncle had narrowly escaped death when that very canister was being removed from the lone wrecked alien fighter.

  The canister firing mechanism had been damaged during the fight when a coil gun projectile had knocked the fighter from the sky. The technicians removing the canister had unwittingly reactivated the trigger when pulling it from the craft. The canister had been placed on a table thirty feet from the alien craft when the accident occurred. The result had been the death of three technicians and the two scientists who had been overseeing their efforts.

  David Brenner had only walked away moments before for a cup of coffee. A substantial portion of one side of the fuselage and of one wing of the alien craft had been dissolved by the mist. Only the quick action of a support team member had prevented the complete destruction of the vessel. With the mist spreading out from the canister, the team member had jumped into a tug attached to the front of the craft and begun pulling it away.