Rigaar sat in the darkened observation room. He stared through the window at the carpet of stars and the mass of ships moving to make preparations. He sipped a cup filled with raksh and thought of Skyla. He remembered her light tan fur as she held their newborn. The glisten of her eyes, the way her lips raised when he was near. He cursed himself for leaving her then, as he cursed himself for leaving now. Tai Pan was their birthplace, even if Styllia was right.
She had told him because she knew of their need to run. She told him of the preparations the Sapiens were making to war with the Saurians. She told him of the origin of their people. Her reasons were logical and understandable, the Sapiens would recognize the similarity between them and their pets, they would know. Having him know didn't seem to make a difference. Having Kaliif know seemed a mistake to him now.
He had told Kaliif, he wanted an equal to carry the feelings with him. But Kaliif was still wild. Rigaar wanted death.
“Rigaar,” Kaliif's voice came from behind him. Rigaar spun to see Kaliif standing in the door. He hadn't heard it open.
“I thought you would leave.” Rigaar turned back around and took another sip from his cup.
“The fight's not over yet.” Kaliif sat down next to him, pulled a small flask from his belt pouch and tipped it to his lips.
“Doesn't sound like you. Pirates run and hide to fight another day.”
“I thought that's what we were doing.”
“There'll be no place to run after the Sapiens.” Rigaar leaned back in his chair and looked directly at Kaliif, sipping his raksh.
“I always wanted to die in space.”
“Right.” Rigaar whispered and faced the window again.
“Why so depressed?” Kaliif raised his lips, smiling. “So we came from somewhere else, so we didn't evolve naturally. What does it matter?”
“We used to be as the cusp is today. We were an experiment. It invalidates everything we have accomplished, everything.”
“Cha,” Kaliif spat and stood, taking another quick swig from his flask before putting it back into his pouch. “How do we know the Sapiens weren't genetically manipulated into sentience? Or the Pyrinni? Or even the Saurians themselves?” Kaliif leaned onto the table opposite Rigaar. “I did not come to lick your injuries, Rigaar. You are Reegarf. These reggf need your guidance.” His voice dropped, gaining a gravely edge to it. “Give it to them.”
Rigaar stood and walked to the window. “We are leaving in thirty hours.”
“So soon?”
“Our position here is not as secure as many think. Their scanner capabilities are increasing at an incredible rate. We must leave.”
“A lot will change in fifty years.” Kaliif stood next to his friend.
“Not us.” Rigaar chuckled. “The long shift will be only nine months.” He handed his cup to Kaliif.
Three hundred thirty six ships maneuvered into a staggered formation. Most were small vessels, crew only three to five. Some were large transports and a few surviving Protector Ships. The order was given and every single ship shifted out of normal existence. A few moments later the large station disintegrated.
Severe gravity ripped a hole in the fabric of space. Three battle cruisers accelerated through the warp hole. The hole closed behind them.
Sensors swept across the system. Ships powered by nuclear rockets propelled themselves between orbitals. Many satellites and stations gleamed brightly in the scan. Targets were locked, pulse beams fired and everything in space destroyed.
Two of the three broke out of formation. One headed towards the inner planet, closest to the sun. The other accelerated to the outer planet. The third, the lead ship, stayed in out orbit, scanning deep space.
Each planet was scanned, technology assessed, populations counted. The information was radioed back to the out ship. From the boat bay of the lead ship came forth a smaller vessel. It accelerated on warp engines and shifted out of real space. The three battle cruisers waited for an answer.
“Enter,” Krishnae answered in response to the door buzz.
“Elder, forgive the intrusion,” a guard entered and extended his neck, “a messenger has arrived.”
From behind the guard entered a young warrior. The small katsurani entered and fell prostrate to the floor. Krishnae closed the shutters. The warrior seemed that he was going to strain himself in an effort to show as much of his neck as possible.
“Report.” Krishnae held back the smile. The messenger handed Krishnae the small optical disk and stood, looking to the floor. Krishnae inserted the disk into his desk terminal and read the report.
He leaned back onto his tail and stared at the katsurani before him. He had not earned a name yet and wore no clan signifier.
“Tell me, messenger, what do you think?”
“I am not aware of the contents of the message, Elder.” The messenger extended his neck.
“What clan are you?”
“Elder?” The messenger glanced toward Krishnae and then quickly back down to the floor.
“It's a simple question, messenger.”
“The clan of Krishnae, Elder,” the messenger said, his eye slits narrowed in bewilderment.
“Return to your leader. Give him this message. Purge.”
“Yes, Elder.” The messenger lowered himself to the floor and almost crawled out of Krishnae's room.
Krishnae puffed his air slits in a chuckle.
Chapter 8
There was no smoking in the closed room. General Costas, retired, Secretary of Defense, pulled out another stick of nicotine gum and tossed it into his mouth. The table didn’t hold its normal complement of people. But everyone that the President had exposed to the truth was there. Each one had undergone the education provided by the small black cylinder.
“Andrews Air force Base will be ready this week Mister President,” Costas continued with his briefing. “We have some of their representatives helping us make things ready. We’ve already been running trips. Their shuttles can land damn near anywhere they want.”
“What about the Russians?” Robertson asked.
“They’re doing the same,” Harrington answered. These aliens are willing to work with whomever asks. So far we’re the only ones engaging with them to establish ground based facilities to get regular flights moving to and from their city.”
“We’ve had some issues,” Vice President Debra Ross, said. “Some of the countries are miffed with us that we are positioning ourselves to be the ones to manage access to the aliens.”
“They’re not blocked, just not first to the game,” Secretary of State Armstrong said.
“We’ve got our folks and the Russians already up in the alien city,” Harrington said. “The place is huge, set up like a hotel, with enough rooms for a few million people.”
Vice President Debra Ross whistled.
“How is this working?” Costas asked.
“Our folks are learning everything they can from the aliens,” Harrington said.
“The plan,” Robertson said, “is that we get from them what we need so we can do this solo. The Russians are on board.”
“We know this?” Ross asked.
“Yes Ma’am,” Harrington answered. I have confirmation from my Russian counterpart. President Petronivitch does not trust the aliens.”
“Neither do I,” Robertson said. “We let any country on board that thing that wants to, but our plan is to go this alone. “What about the Japanese and Chinese?”
“Sir,” Harrington said. “Japan is on board. They’re going to keep it quiet until we announce the alliance. The Chinese are following the same plan we are, but they do not plan on working with us.”
“That’s too bad,” Ross said. “But not unexpected.”
“England wants to be publically onboard and driving the creation of the alliance,” Harrington continued. “That seems to be the common desire among all of Europe. They feel that this should be like World War Two and we should create an alliance with a supreme alli
ed commander, to head it.”
“Soon enough,” Robertson said. “What will the aliens think about us doing this?”
“They seem to think a council or committee is the best way to run things,” Harrington said. “My alien handler has a lot of ‘why’ questions about the reasons behind what we do. So the concept of a grand alliance fits with their mind-frame.”
“Great,” Costas said.
“No matter,” Robertson said. “When we’re ready we’ll kick them to the curb. Right now, we get from them what we need.”
The race to space had begun. But not in the notion originally intended. First the United States and Russia were the only places that could shuttle between the Earth and the alien city. But, soon, other countries realized that all they had to do was ask and they, too, could have regular trips from their locations to the city.
The Americans and the Russians had a head start. They took the alien educators by storm and learned not just what, but how. The Pyrinni were all too eager to help. Many other countries availed themselves of that help. One by one each country singed on to have Pyrinni tech. Soon power grid upgrades, medical technology upgrades, computer upgrades, were being deployed to the member states via their contacts. The Pyrinni themselves never left the orbital city. Eventually the city was moved by its own power to the Lagrange Five orbital. Everyone began calling it L5.
Millions was not an understatement. And with as many people as could learn, the city accepted. They housed and cared for them. The Pyrinni engaged with them and taught them. They built anything they wanted. Warships were constructed designed for the humans using a mix of Pyrinni, Teckton and captured Saurian technology. Mankind was being lifted generations in tech level.
Enough countries signed on that the United Nations structured a Coalition to manage the process and engagement. There became two cabals. The one, the majority, were all too willing to accept whatever the Pyrinni wanted to give. This was the open group, the Coalition. While the United States and Russia were a part the way it was set up there was no veto power. Their research teams availed themselves of any knowledge the Pyrinni were willing to give. And they learned. They learned the how and why instead of just have the work done for them. Most other countries, however, were content to have the Pyrinni construct ships and then hand them over.
There was an incredible sense of urgency. As one by one everyone received the education they knew that they had to prepare for the coming Saurians. Most of them felt confident in the technological wonders being gifted them.
Doctor Pavel Brosnick stared out of the large bay window at the earth floating below. It filled the screen, wisps of white dancing across a sea of blue while the whole slowly turned. He knew it wasn’t a real window, but instead part of the wall that was a view screen. You couldn’t tell though, and you couldn’t find the seams separating the two. It was amazing.
“You were right, Natalia.” He looked to the ceiling. “In my lifetime I am here.” He rubbed his hand through his thinning grey hair and chuckled. He had looked up to heaven when it was all around him. He turned his gaze back to the scene below him. A smile slowly grew on his face and threatened to remain eternally.
“Is your hearing going, Doctor?” Robert Plant stood in the porthole.
“Robert,” Brosnick turned to face the door. Robert Plant was Englishman who served as Coalition Representative to the science teams.
“What was it you wanted to see me about?” Brosnick asked.
Robert walked around to sit at his desk. It was a very modern glass table with strategically hidden drawers on the wall behind his seat and computer screens integrated into the table top.
“I wanted to know how it was going.” Plant put a cigarette into his mouth and lit it, inhaling deeply. “How the ships are working. Are they ready?”
“Ready?” Brosnick spat. “The Pyrinni studied us and built their saucers while we watched. They asked us all the important questions, like where to put the toilets. We watched them install Saurian designed weapons. When they were finished they handed us the keys. That's not ready. We will be ready when we have ships that we design and that we build.”
“That’s why the chat. I understand your teams are not as cooperative as the other teams.”
Brosnick snorted.
“Doctor,” he snuffed the cigarette out. “We can remove your teams to make room for those that are easier to work with. “What do you think about that?”
“Idi na xuy husesos.”
“I’m sorry,” Plant said, “I don’t speak Russian.” He lit another cigarette.
“I am Russian and my team is both Russian and American. You can’t have us removed.”
“Then tell me, Doctor, how soon?” Plant inhaled again and blew a stream of smoke up to the ventilator disk.
“How soon for what?”
“How soon until you think we’ll be ready for them.” Plant stamped out his cigarette.
“You are a fool, Robert.” Brosnick paced back and forth. “You think the toys these aliens give us will work? Did they work for them?”
“They will come here, Doctor.” Plant leaned back in his chair and pulled out another cigarette.
“We're not even sure if they'll find us,” Brosnick said. “They may not be here for a long time. We don't need to rush into something stupid.”
“They'll be here quicker than that.” Plant smiled.
“What do you mean?”
“More Martians are coming.”
“What?”
“It seems that our Saurians have been a problem for more species than just the Pyrinni. These new spacemen ran away and decided, on the advice of the Pyrinni I'm told, to come here and help us in the cause of galactic freedom.” Plant chuckled to himself.
“How do you know that?”
“The Pyrinni have a way of talking light years instantly. They told me how but I don't know physics. There's a report being sent to your office.”
“How long?” Brosnick sat down.
“They should be here in about sixty years.”
Brosnick stared off into space, his smile slowly grew again. “Perfect,” he whispered. He knew they wanted the English on board. They needed them, damned bureaucrats. Because if the English came then other members of Europe would come.
Brosnick turned and smiled at Plant. He walked to the window and touched his chin. “Place your hand flat on the table,” Brosnick ordered. Plant obeyed. “Now push. Tell me what happens.”
“I'm pushing against the table,” Plant said.
“Wrong,” Brosnick smiled. “The table is pushing back against your hand with exactly the same amount of force that you are using to push against it.”
“Yeah, so.”
“The amount of time for the table to push back is near the speed of light. Almost instantaneous, almost. This is known as an impulse. But, say that you slow the table's reaction time, that it takes it longer to push back. What would happen?”
“My hand would go into the table.”
“Right,” Brosnick said.
“So?” Plant sat back in his chair, satisfied at his explanation.
“So?” Brosnick was surprised. “The table would then push back, and either push you up or your hand would push it down.”
“Sounds like pulling yourself into the air by lifting on your own belt loops.”
“It is.”
“How the bloody hell will it ever work?”
“With enough energy and an engine pod designed to do just this function. The table would be connected to the ship. Your hand could move the ship. You perform this function numerous times per second and you have a steady acceleration.”
“But you still can't go beyond the speed of light. That much physics I do know.”
“Ah,” Brosnick stood and started pacing, “this is the really fascinating part. You keep the E requirement low by creating a stable C, non-FTL”
“What?” Plant pulled out another cigarette.
“You make the space surr
ounding the ship think that it has no velocity while you accelerate to the speed of light and past. We've already started the prototype, the Null Field Coil. Maybe ten years we'll have working model.”
“Ten years could be too late.” Plant sucked on his cigarette. “Read the report that I emailed you and get back to me. It's got all the new tech data on the Saurians. We'll use the Pyrinni built ships. The Coalition wants ships now, not in ten years.”
Brosnick stood and walked to the door. It silently slid open. “You have no choice,” he said turning to face Plant. “The Pyrinni lost, these new aliens lost. The Saurians understand their own technology. Using their cast away tools won’t save us.”
“You don't think we can win, do you Doctor?” Plant glared at him through floating smoke.
“No,” Brosnick said and walked out of the room the door silently closing being him. He strolled down the hall, the soft white walls creating a relaxing aura. People walked past him. Most were in a daze, some in military uniforms. None could believe that they were actually there.
He stopped by a bay window on way to his office. He could barely make out one of the Pyrinni ships. The Coalition Military was calling them cruisers. They were soft half circles turned back onto themselves with a square block in the back. This one had a giant red star painted on its hull. He shook his head and started walking again. Each member of the coalition wanted their own ships. He could see it, a war in space among themselves.
The door to Brosnick's office opened silently as he approached it. Walter Brennan was already there, floating in the corner of his office. His wheelchair had no wheels, a Pyrinni gift. They seemed surprised when they first met the computer scientist.
“Hey, Pav,” Walter floated into the light that shone from the hallway.
“What can I do for you, Walter?” Brosnick asked as he turned the light on.
“I've got a problem.”
Brosnick walked around to the back of his desk and fell into the chair. “What,” he said as he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.
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