Suddenly each mother ship released five saucer-shaped scouts. The scouts rapidly formed a line in front of the mother ships as the ring formation circling the Earth tightened inexorably.
Sgt. Beale walked up to stand by Tom and watch the approaching horde. "My guess is they'll begin taking out all our communications satellites. It's a good thing we kept the Hubble telescope in such a low orbit. At 550 miles, it should be one of the last satellites they destroy," he said quietly.
Sure enough, as the digital meter counted down to 30,000 miles, bright streaks of silvery light stabbed out from each scout ship. Hundreds of satellites in geosynchronous orbit began to explode. The satellites were too small to show up on the wall-sized monitor, but as each one exploded, a brief flash indicated its position and the moment of its destruction. Blunt was frankly astounded at the accuracy of the Chrysallaman weaponry.
The warfare advantage of spacecraft was truly frightening. All the Earthbound military theorists had been correct. The Chrysallamans could literally float in space out of the range of any rockets the people of Earth could launch. Not only that, their craft were faster than anything created by humans, even the F-35 Lightning. All they had to do was turn on their lightspeed drives and instantly retreat from any perceived danger. Like it or not, Blunt knew he was going to have to wait for the Chrysallamans to get comfortable with their takeover of Earth before he could order the one and only attack that would hopefully wipe out the alien threat once and for all.
The digital meter on the wall monitor kept counting down as the enemy fleet drew nearer. Just as the counter reached 5,000 miles, hundreds of smoke trails rose from the Earth. Major Amanda Kurstow had launched the nuclear missiles.
5,000 Miles From Earth
Sub-commander Tuurket Axxdo smiled slightly and chuckled to himself as he watched the smoke trails rise toward his ships from the planet's surface.
"At last," he thought to himself. "We get a defensive reaction."
Quickly typing a series of commands, he instructed his master computer to determine the weaponry aboard the primitive rockets. Instantly, the computer advised him the rockets were each armed with multiple, Level 50 nuclear warheads. Along with a few other factual tidbits of information, it told him the range of the rockets was approximately 9,000 miles.
"You've got to be kidding me!" he chortled as he pressed the stud on his control console enabling fleet communications.
"To all Chrysallaman warships. The primitive rocket propelled weapons approaching from the planet's surface are Level 50 atomics. Their guidance systems are rudimentary, controlled by solid-state electronics our ancestors were toying with 200 years ago. The range of the missiles is ridiculously short. I suggest we use 90% of them for target practice and return the other 10% to their ground based launchers as a reminder not to anger their future masters."
He quickly received unanimous approval from the other sub-commanders followed by an enthusiastic okay from General Hisspat Zeck.
A wicked glint sparkled in his eyes as he entered the commands on his console instructing the master computer to override the programmed flight controls of the thousands of rudimentary rockets thundering up from the planet's surface.
Keying his transceiver for ship-to-ship communications, Axxdo sent a thought command to all the scouts, "All scouts, target the incoming rockets and destroy them. Don't harm any rockets I'm redirecting back to the planet."
4,500 Miles From Earth
General Blunt watched the giant monitor display the nuclear tipped rockets blasting their way toward the approaching alien fleet with a modicum of hope. The smoke trails left by the rockets made it quite easy to track their relative positions as they closed on the alien saucers. Suddenly, hundreds of smoke trails began ending abruptly in whitish, red-streaked explosions that appeared like Fourth of July fireworks rockets detonating in a dark sky. None of the smoke trails came anywhere near the Chrysallaman ships. The 1,000 foot proximity detonators were useless.
A numbing chill coursed down his spine as Blunt watched some of the smoke trails turn in a U-shape and streak back towards Earth. Grasping the meaning of reversals, Blunt stabbed at his intercom button and called for Major Kurstow.
"Kurstow," he demanded as she answered his call.
"Yes, Sir. I already see what they've done! I have transmitted the self-destruct codes to all rockets. It looks like the Chrysallamans re-directed about 10% of my salvo back toward the launch areas."
"I don't see any visual confirmation the self-destruct order is working!" Blunt exclaimed.
"The missiles aren't responding to our commands, Sir!" Kurstow responded after a long moment.
"Just as we feared," Blunt replied. "The damned lizards are way ahead of us with their tech. Those fail-safes we installed better work."
Chewing on the inside of his lower lip, Blunt recalled how Colonel Jason Stoneman had insisted on a kind of dead man switch for each rocket. His argument was valid. You simply don't send thousands of nuclear missiles into space against highly advanced, militaristic aliens who might just be capable of overriding the rockets' guidance systems. No one wants nuclear bombs raining out of the sky, killing Earth's defenders. As a result of Stoneman's recommendation, each nuclear bomb was equipped with a hardwired altimeter and atmospheric pressure trigger. Once the rocket was high enough above the surface of the Earth where atmospheric pressure was zero, the dead man switch became active. Any bomb redirected back to Earth would automatically explode once it descended to 50,000 feet above sea level.
4,000 Miles From Earth
Shurryek Jorrin smiled to himself as Tuurket Axxdo cursed the humans for their impudent foresight that thwarted his plans. Every rocket returned to the planet had exploded harmlessly once it reached the atmospheric envelope surrounding the blue-green world.
"At least," he thought as his Zyrtzz Group descended toward the China and India corridor, "these humans seem to have some modicum of military intelligence. Perhaps I might have some fun with them after all before they're wiped out of existence."
10 Days After Landfall
The Staff conference room was a beehive of activity as everyone responded to the reports being filtered to them from the communications suite. The Chrysallaman fleet had divided into five groups once it hit the thousand mile orbital mark. Every continent except Australia had multiple ships flitting about at speeds greater than Mach 8. So far the Chrysallamans were untouchable.
"The Chriks initially concentrated on destruction of power grids and transportation hubs," Colonel Jason Stoneman muttered as he sifted through a series of reports flagged to his attention by the analysts manning the rows of computers in the communications suite. The name Chriks had taken on a life of its own when someone manning a FORCE outpost in Brasília had used the word to describe the Chrysallamans. The name had immediately been adopted by Earth's defenders.
"All major cities throughout the World are completely isolated. Air travel is impossible. Interstate highways have so many holes in them they're useless. Railroads have been similarly demolished."
"All major bridges and tunnels have been destroyed," Major Becky Chang added. "The Channel Tunnel and the Seikan Tunnel no longer exist."
"Is there any power grid still operating?" General Blunt asked, his face a complex mixture of anger and despair.
"Virtually none," replied Major Amanda Kurstow in a quiet voice.
"Millions of people died horribly in the first week," Colonel Doug Jenson said angrily. "Survivors are beginning to get sick and die from lack of clean water and food. I know the plan is to let the Chriks get comfortable with their victories, but there has to come a time when we release our people to deliver some payback!"
New York, Chicago, Atlanta and Los Angeles were in ruins. Twenty million people in those cities had died within 24-hours of the Chrysallaman arrival. The death toll now rose by the thousands every day. London, Paris, Rome, Moscow, Beijing, Mumbai, Delhi and Sao Paulo had been almost completely wiped away by the combined
use of devastating cutter rays and heat beams. The initial assault by the alien saucers had been over 10 days ago, yet those massive cities still burned. FORCE outposts hidden around the World estimated the loss of human life at close to one billion souls.
"Civilian communication has ceased," Jenson continued. "When the Chriks destroyed the satellite array, cell phones and cable TV went with it. If it wasn't for the K-wave network, we'd have no way of contacting our own units."
The K-wave communications discovery was one of the latest tech advances released by the Heinbaum labs in Nevada. Based on the Kinetic Generator, the K-wave bandwidth had nothing to do with radio frequencies. Dr. John Heinbaum had constructed his Kinetic Power Helix from a coil of wire made from a thin extrusion of the silvery porcelain material used by the Chrysallamans as their power module container. He had spent months working on his prototype, a spherical coil about an inch in diameter. The sphere appeared to be several double helix strands of DNA shaped into a ball. Under the influence of an electromagnet, the coil tapped into the virtually limitless kinetic energy of the Earth. It was the egotistical nature of Heinbaum that led to the discovery of the K-wave.
Heinbaum had decided he needed a symbol of his genius to carry with him at all times. He decided a nice ring made from the silvery porcelain would be the perfect icon to represent his magnificent brain power. Crafting the ring in the form of a beautiful, interconnected circlet with the appearance of a twisting double helix chain, Heinbaum would flutter his fingers and bend his wrist at different angles trying to draw people's attention to his iconic ring.
One day, while testing the output of one of his Kinetic Power Helices with an oscilloscope, Heinbaum's ring finger had accidentally come into contact with the helix coil. Feeling a mild electric tingle around his ring finger, Heinbaum had gazed toward his hand just in time to see the wave line on the oscilloscope jump wildly. Intrigued by the dancing wave line, Heinbaum had continued experimenting with the circlet design until he developed a way to modulate the wave signal. The K-wave transceiver was the result. The communication signals were untraceable and couldn't be jammed by any known method.
A K-wave communication was not line of sight, and nothing had been found that could stop or dampen the signals. Using K-wave transceivers, one person standing in China could speak to another person standing in France as if they were right next to each other. The K-wave transmitted through the core of the Earth without losing any signal strength. General Blunt had made it a priority to equip all the units under his command with K-wave devices.
"Have there been any reports of Chriks making landfall?" General Blunt asked.
"None yet," replied Colonel Jenson. "But I have to believe they're getting confident enough to land."
Colonel Alexander Fields cut in, "There hasn't been a single successful encounter between any Earth aircraft and the Chriks. Air-to-air and ground-to-air missiles bounce off the gravity drive bubble surrounding the saucers."
Spreading his hands in a helpless gesture, Fields continued, "Most air defense craft have been completely wiped out by the Chriks."
"Submarines seem to have some protection based upon their depth," Colonel Jason Stoneman said as he tapped a few keys on his console. "Anything under 200 feet in depth is shielded from the cutter rays by the water. The heat rays simply can't handle the volume of the water and are rendered useless."
Peering around the conference table with sleep deprived eyes, Stoneman lamented, "But all my subs can do is hide. Their missiles are ineffective against the saucers. They dare not surface, or they'll be sliced to pieces by the cutter rays."
Looking around the table at his trusted Staff, Tom knew something was going to have to change soon. The Chrysallamans had been systematically destroying the infrastructure and killing the people of Earth for almost 2 weeks. The death toll was rising every minute, and there would come a time when he would have to give the order to attack the damned lizards whether it was opportune or not.
His pondering about the right course of action to take next was interrupted by a soft knock. The conference room door cracked open, and Madelyn Amsley stuck her head in, saying, "There's someone here to see you, Sir."
Recognizing the familiar thought patterns emanating from the brain of the person in the hallway, Blunt said, "Of course, show him in."
Opening the door, Amsley made a welcoming wave with her hand and in walked Whatsit. He was wearing his familiar dark green trench coat, but his jeweled bolo tie and sombrero were very different from his usual, brightly decorated and beaded style. Today he was wearing an undecorated tan leather sombrero. The brim's edges, the hatband and the draw cord were made of a darker leather. His bolo tie had a jeweled skull ornament, but the skull was not of a human but a Chrysallaman. He had added a broad bandoleer over his right shoulder which held a cutter ray pistol holstered in its center with extra loops for three spare power modules. Overall, Whatsit's appearance was very militaristic.
Seating himself in a chair next to Tom, Whatsit removed his sombrero and let it hang back off his head by the draw cord clasped around his neck. The room was completely silent.
"I wanted you to hear from me, personally, how brokenhearted I am by the needless death and destruction brought to your World by my people," he began.
"While I cannot change my appearance from that which you physically see before you, I want you to know that inside, under my green skin, I am just like you. Your pain and suffering is my pain and suffering. I have come to love the people of Earth, and I will happily die defending her and her people."
Tears began to drip from Whatsit's big, black eyes as he gazed around the table at the brave humans, and Tom Blunt wrapped his arm around Whatsit's shoulders and squeezed gently.
Gathering his emotions with a visible effort, Whatsit raised his chin and said telepathically, "Based on my experience with the scouting expedition back in 1947, there is no doubt in my mind after almost 2 weeks flying around in those tin cans, the Chrysallamans are suffering from a human-like form of cabin fever."
Shaking his head in disgust at the memory, Whatsit continued, "I remember my father and his crew became psychologically unsettled after being cooped up for weeks at a time. My father looked for every opportunity to leave the confines of the scout saucer and walk about on open ground, feeling the dirt beneath his feet instead of a cold, hard deck."
Pausing a moment, he said, "I predict the Chrysallamans are very close to making landfall. You must be ready to strike your blows for freedom the moment they become comfortable with their perceived airborne victory and decide it's time for a ground assault."
Tom Blunt watched with amazement the effect Whatsit's words had on his Staff. There was no doubt they were buoyed by his encouragement. The positive change in their attitude was striking.
"Perhaps," he thought to himself, "we might be able to at least test the effectiveness of a MA on an isolated scout."
Rapping his pen on the conference table to get everyone's attention, Tom said, "Colonel Stoneman, I want you and Colonel Jenson to find me a scout ship that is relatively isolated. Perhaps somewhere in South America or Siberia."
Seeing the interest perk up in their faces, he continued, "Perhaps we can have some target practice of our own. We need proof anyway the MA is capable of taking out the saucers. When we're through experimenting, it has to appear the fusion reactor on the saucer exploded. There can't be any evidence we have weapons capable of defending ourselves."
Stoneman responded with a grin, "I think we can find a nice target very quickly. There have been reports of a single scout saucer flying over the Andes Mountains strafing the city of Bogotá. We have a FORCE unit near there. I'll do some checking."
***
The scout saucer, Kerzilac, captained by Weecm Shrilwat skimmed over the top of a tall mountain range in the southern hemisphere of HG-281 at better than 1,400 miles per hour. Shrilwat was a hatchet man skilled in the wanton killing of lower lifeforms. Naturally, he considered any lifeform no
t Chrysallaman as lower. Favoring the heat ray as his principal killing weapon, Shrilwat liked to watch the skin crisp on his victims, turning first from variegated smoking reds to blackened, thoroughly cooked flesh. Sometimes he heated his victims very slowly so he could savor their screams of agony.
Shrilwat was daydreaming about his latest destruction of a village when a small ding from his master console attracted his attention. A faint, blinking, bluish image had appeared near the bottom edge of the main view screen. Placing his finger on a swiveling toggle, Weecm moved a targeting circle over the blinking image and pressed the key to enhance. Suddenly, as if he were standing only a few feet away from the scene, the view screen showed a single human huddled over a campfire. It looked like the human was stirring the flames with a stick of some kind.
Eyes focusing like a cat watching its next quarry, an evil grin pulled back on Shrilwat's cheeks. The human was completely isolated in a small valley surrounded by steep, rugged peaks. Some of the surrounding mountain crests were so high they were snow covered. The small valley was very rocky with scrubby bushes scattered here and there. A depression at the lowest point of the valley held a small pond of brownish green water. The human had built the campfire near the pond and appeared to be fully absorbed in keeping it burning.
"So you want to keep warm," Weecm Shrilwat thought maliciously. "I can help you with that."
Pressing the communications button on his combat vest, he advised his crew, "All crew, scanners have detected a lone human on the ground near our flight path. It will only take a few moments to end the creature's life, and then we'll continue on our way to rendezvous with our main group."
Receiving disinterested acknowledgments from his men, Shrilwat grasped his control ball and twirled it slightly to realign his flight path toward the soon to be dead human.
The Origin of F.O.R.C.E. Page 29