by Chris Hechtl
“Call it what you will, a space bridge, vortex, stargate, portal... wormhole, whatever works. I frankly don't care...” he grimaced. “Okay I do care if some bureaucrat or egghead tries to give it some acronym no one can say.” A few people in the audience laughed at that.
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He explained that the wormhole was a pinpoint quantum singularity that was attracted to objects of large mass and magnetic fields. It was also influenced by large magnetic fields, such as the Earth's magnetic poles and the turbulent solar activity from Earth's sun. The wormhole was first deduced after a scientist noted it while using the CERN research facility, but it wasn't until two years later that it was conclusively confirmed and mapped. “Obviously we're not sure why it's here, why it's not on one of the larger planets. I'm sure future generations of scientists will figure that part out,” he said. He gave a Gaelic shrug as the reporters snorted. “Another question is how and why it connects to another Earth class planet.”
He smiled and blinked as the flashbulbs went off rapid fire. “That's right folks, an Earth like planet. We sent a probe last month. It confirmed the presence of air, water, and plants.” He held up a hand. Behind him a vid screen came to life showing a scratchy video on another world. “Ladies and gentlemen we present to you the first images from another Earth like world.” He smiled as the murmur grew. “I'm looking forward to exploring it personally.”
That set off another blinding flash of bulbs going off. He held up his hands to forestall questions. “This is an opportunity to explore a new world. It's also a possible gateway to establishing a bridgehead for mankind on another world,” he hid a scowl. “Say what you will about exporting our bad habits, but folks, we've got a lot of good ones too. We're going to do our best to make sure this new world is kept as pristine as possible but also allowing us to use it as a branch for mankind's next step,” he smiled.
“We're growing up folks, trying out our wings for the first time and leaving the nest. I for one think it's about time, but that's just the space fan in me,” he smiled again; his right hand over his heart. He knew they were eating this up. “I've got to get with the crew but you’re more than welcome to watch.” He waved and walked over to the group getting ready to go.
“Boss, solar storm is building. Tracking estimates an hour before the flare goes off,” a female tech said coming over to him. He nodded and turned to the group. He checked her time and nodded.
“All right listen up,” he said turning to the techs. People turned to him, some were techs, some were reporters but he was focusing on the team about to go through the vortex with him. “We've got about an hour and eight minutes until the flare pops and hits us. That's our window, that's the energy we'll need to transfer everything we've got for the bridgehead. I want everyone to go through this place and grab anything you want or need that you forgot about. The company will reimburse anyone for materials,” he said and waved.
“Personally, I want more toothpaste and a lot of coffee. A whole lot of coffee,” he growled. “If I don't get it I'm going to be a royal bear every morning.” Several people chuckled at that. The military contingent looked at each other. “Seriously folks, you've got forty-five minutes to go, we'll strap it everywhere so hustle.” He slapped his hands together and then made shooing motions. People started talking and then scrambling. He grabbed a nearby tech.
“Boss?” the tech asked confused.
He leaned close to her to talk in her ear so she could hear him over the sudden chaos of action around them. “I want you to poll the staff, get them to make a list of what we take after we're gone and submit it to accounting. I want you to get the staff to toss in anything they can think of that we'd need. Comfort items. Grab every backup generator and fuel bladder and toss them on. Pull the batteries but make sure they are sent along as well.” He waved to the trucks. “We'll unload in base camp and sort it out there. We'll have plenty of time.” Which was true? They'd have at least a year, possibly ten years before the vortex stabilized enough to make a return trip.
Lieutenant Colonel Richards came over scowling. The colonel was tall and imposing, sporting a proper military grade haircut like Ryans' own. His temples and sides were slightly silver, however. The man wasn't vain enough to use hair dye apparently. “A moment Ryans,” he said gruffly. He gave the tech a look. She made a moue and quietly retreated from his basilisk gaze.
“Yes, Colonel?” Ryans asked, smiling politely as he turned his full attention on the older man.
The Colonel scowled, looking around the room. His people were looking at each other, not sure what to do. The civilians were running back and forth with materials. “We don't need to disrupt the team at this critical time.”
Ryans cocked his head. “Actually, I was thinking that getting them to grab what they can while they can would help...” The Colonel glared. “And it would keep them busy,” Ryans finished with a small smile. The Colonel blinked then slowly nodded. He didn't quiet smile in return, but there was approval in his eyes, the first time he'd looked that way at Ryans. For a long time the Colonel had acted like he had a stick up his rear.
“Good point.”
Ryans snorted. “I have my moments Colonel. I don't think we need them barfing in the trash barrels because opening night jitters got the best of them. Once one of them does it'll make the others follow.” He shook his head as the Colonel chuckled grimly.
“Opening night jitters does get to everyone,” he admitted. He nodded after a moment. Okay, so the sprout had some potential. “Very well, carry on,” the Colonel ordered. He walked off, pointing to a tech and engineer strapping equipment to the hood of a LAV. He waved to his own people and nodded. Lieutenant Perry nodded in return and then waved to the Gunny who got his people into motion.
“We've got trailers too, and everyone's vehicles are going to be overloaded as it is,” Lieutenant Perry said eying the suspension of his hummer. It looked like it was buckling a little as it was. “Are you sure this is necessary?” he asked.
The Colonel snorted and glanced back the way he came. “Ryans is right, keeping everyone busy is a good idea. Besides, if this is a one way trip, I want everything we can get our hands on.” Armies ran on their stomach. If they were cut off for a long period... or longer he wanted everything they could get their hands on.
The Lieutenant nodded grimly. “Good point... ah with your permission?” he asked looking away.
“By all means. And grab me more cigars!” the Colonel called as the lieutenant hastily retreated at a jog. He turned and gave a brief salute acknowledging the order.
“Here, take mine,” the general said, coming up behind him. He handed over a package from his breast pocket, then a lighter and cigar clip. “Havana's best. I get them from a buddy stationed in Cuba. You deserve it, where you’re going there aren’t going to be anymore.”
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“So how do you know the, what do you call it, Malp worked? If your vehicles and electronics can't be powered, how did you get it to work?” a reporter asked. Ryans turned to see Max nearby.
The giant machinist was waving his hands as he talked to a tech. “Well, Max here...” He pulled a surprised Max over by wrapping an arm around the big man's shoulders. Max blinked at the camera and straightened, hiding a scowl. “Max figured it out. I'll let him explain. I've got to take the batteries out of my electronics before we go or they'll be fried. Remind people of that Max, when you're done here,” he ordered Max and then waved as he retreated at a trot.
“Don't forget the CMOS!” Max called to his boss. Ryans waved back in acknowledgment. Max nodded and returned his attention to the reporter and camera guy. “Okay, um ah... what was the question again?”
“The Malps, how did you get them to work?” the reporter replied.
“Oh ah, well, see when they first tried them they were all electric. The first one drove up the ramp, but when it got close to the vortex a fat bolt of lightning came out and fried it like Sunday chicken
at granny's.” He licked his lips and grinned. Some of the reporters nearby chuckled at that.
“You should have seen the engineers and scientists; they were dumbstruck, just... Ah.” He dropped his mouth open and bugged his eyes out. Several more of the reporters chuckled louder at that. “I saw it; I mean who on the floor didn't? Damned expensive, fried the entire robot. Five mil down the toilet.” He shook his head and made a flushing sound.
“So what did you do? Or they do?” a woman asked, indicating the control room.
“Well, actually, that's where I came into this story. See they got it in their heads to try simple things, even tried tossing a camera through. Didn't work,” he said shaking his head mournfully at the waste. “Nothing did. The batteries exploded the moment the lightning hit.” He shook his head once more. “So I was tinkering around and saw this thing on Discovery channel about that guy da Vinci. He created these mechanical things with springs and such. Even made a robot cart with springs and gears.”
Some of the reporters nodded, catching on. “So I roughed out a concept and put it together in my spare time. The others didn't think it would work. The brass was foaming at the mouth and then he...” he indicated Ryans sitting at a table pulling his laptop apart. “He came by and saw what I was doing. I was almost ready for a test. He took it and ran with it,” he said clearly amused and still surprised and pleased by his boss's actions. “Not bad for a GED and trade school guy I think,” He smiled, hooking his thumbs in his belt proudly.
He waited until the flashbulbs stopped before continuing. “Needless to say it worked. Wind up the spring; toss the thing through the vortex and when the spring wound down it engaged a gear...” He moved his fingers together simulating the contacts. “Which moved the contacts together and the circuits were restored. Voilà! All fixed. Sometimes it's the simple fixes that matter, not no multi-million dollar boondoggle with more bells and whistles and places to go wrong and break...” He threw his hands up in the air in disgust. Some of the reporters smiled at that.
He faced the cameras dead on for a moment. “Remember that kiddies, KISS. Keep It Simple Stupid.”
He looked over to a pair of techs nearby waving urgently. He sighed. “I got to get back to work folks, see ya.” He waved again. They shut down and moved off to the next location. Everyone was jockeying for a good shooting position. The producer had one staked out but they had to hurry.
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Ryans frowned, thinking of the team. It was too late to add anyone but he seriously wished he could drop a few. Oh not the civilians, they were characters but all right. He'd handpicked them with the help of their dossiers and psych profiles.
He had a lot of doctors, for instance Doctor Sue Carter, the team's primary medic and surgeon. Carter was brilliant, a multiple MD with hands-on experience in Africa as well as in Loma Linda. She might be short but she was a firecracker and knew her job inside and out, just like her patients.
Doctor Fred Roshenko, a Canadian, like Doctor Carter. He had multiple PhDs. He was a brilliant metallurgist, geologist, and amateur paleontologist/botanist. If they were trapped on the alien world it would be Roshenko who would find the metals and materials they would need to survive and thrive.
Doctor Nate Billings, Nate to his friends. He was a bit of an oddball, tall, lime green dyed hair and goatee he'd picked up from watching MythBusters. He was a brilliant zoologist, biologist, and naturalist. Unlike Roshenko or Carter he came from Great Britain.
Doctor Mary Delouses, a quiet small woman who was a brilliant botanist and agriculturalist. She would be vital in identifying what was edible or dangerous of the plant kingdom.
Doctor Ben Jarvic, a French linguist who was rather excitably bothering everyone within arm’s reach. He like many of the other people on the team was polylingual, but he could also pick up just about any language after hearing it for only a day or so. Right now he was trying to teach an amused Wanda Smith how to do a glottal stop.
Wanda Smith unlike the others was not a doctor; she had multiple Masters in chemistry though and was also an assistant nurse and paramedic. Her partner Charlie Thurman was nearby, she was a quiet reserved woman who had a sunny disposition. Wanda was a talker, and she tended to gossip. The curly haired blond Charlie tended to listen while packing or doing their work. Charlie did the biological side of chemistry; she'd be an asset and assistant to Nate.
Then there was Xu Yung, another chemist and lab assistant. He was from the Chinese homeland and was rather reserved despite being unusually tall. Wanda had teased him about trying out for basketball but he didn't even smile. He was a good paramedic though.
Masayuki Watanabe the Japanese electronic tech would double for Ryans and some of the military in taking care of their various electronic devices. Masayuki was a good kid, quiet though like Xu. Both of the Asians would be riding with the colonel in the last vehicle.
Ryans turned, and snorted at the sight of Sydney Heart holding a camera up and getting video. It wasn't like they didn't have enough already, Ryans thought, looking at the media all around. Sydney was another UK groupie; he was the team's video-photographer, historian and physics minor and general gopher. He was a likeable chap even if he was an Aussie and had a thing for Fosters.
There were four other civilians to round out the civilian side, Polish Gregory Yvetskov, their tall not quite fat cook and nutritionist, he would also serve as the team's barber and a first aide tech in a pinch. The tall Russian Sergio Valenkov would double as another lab tech, physicist, and amateur astronomer. Ryans had just overheard him talking to Sergeant Ginger Lewis, they were both pilots. That was good to know; at least they had another pilot.
The last two civilians were the quiet, unassuming Jessie Adams, their communication's tech and computer whiz, and a last minute addition, Max the bear Howlett. Max was one reason they were going. He didn't have any fancy degrees but he had a wealth of practical hands-on knowledge and a steady hand and keen mind in a crisis. Besides, he was an out of the box thinker and a blacksmith and mechanic to boot. He was an all-around engineering Joat and Ryans was glad to have him onboard.
On the military side things were a bit different. He didn't know the team as well as he would've liked, they had kept to themselves. Still he had picked up some of their various ranks and specialties. All were clean cut; some were almost cookie cutter military characters. Others stood out a little.
There were three officers, Colonel Richards was an abrasive, quiet, no nonsense character that had an “I've got a stick up my ass and don’t you dare touch it” look on his face. Didn't anyone tell him that if his face soured like that all the time it'd stick that way? Ryans mused. Most likely he wanted that.
He had two squad leaders, first Lieutenant Marcus Perry and second lieutenant Ed Galloway. Perry was a little old for his rank, possibly a late addition to the ranks after 9/11 or a mustang up from the ranks of the enlisted. He had an easy manner about him that belied his superior's no nonsense look. For an intel officer he didn't look like staff puke. He was built, strong and had field experience.
Galloway was a last minute addition; he'd flown in on the last chopper in. He was also a bootstrap from enlisted, a combat engineering grad; he'd be an asset in any sort of base they set up.
Master Sergeant Wayne Waters didn't look at all happy about being here but he was dead set on getting it right. This was his last tour and he looked like he was ready. Something about him and Gunny Paris reminded Ryans of Gunny Highway from Heartbreak Ridge. They had that mean Gunny grizzled look. Clint would be proud. Both men were old soldiers, somewhere close to their sixties and had some stories to go with their various battle scars.
Gunny Alex Paris was a rarity, one of only three Marines on the joint team. He was a close quarters arms expert, a hostage rescue expert, gunner, qualified medic, and Marine recon who'd seen it and done it all in his twenty-nine years with the service. He looked bored to tears amid the chaos around him.
The broad Hispanic near Max wa
s Mateo Scooter Alverez, sergeant in the marines and a damn good mechanic and driver according to Max. Ryans wasn't sure about the driver qualification but he'd take it on faith. Near them the aforementioned Sergeant Ginger Lewis, a red headed gunner and pilot. She was good, she could turn her feminine charms on and off, be one of the boys one moment and then kicking it with the girls a second later.
Corporal Lisa Patterson was also a driver and gunner, she brushed her brown hair with her long fingertips as she handed her fellow, corporal Harris some rigger's tape. Patterson was also one of their communication's techs.
Lance Corporal Kes Newman was a character. He tried to affect a no nonsense attitude but he looked a little too chipper to pull it off. From what Ryans had picked up from the grapevine Newman was a character, Marine recon and survival expert who'd been up and down the ranks more time than he'd care to admit. Like the Gunny and master sergeant he was a Joat, having filled all sorts of positions in his checkered career.
There were a couple of PFCs as well. Audrey Shiller, a brunette spotter and sniper, her partner Zack Edsfield, a supposed genius with a Barrett and Wes Fairfax, another back up medic and heavy weapons grunt.
Lone stocky Private Larry Schneider was fresh out of boot but he had driver’s quals, to go along with his gunnery and rope climbing skills. It seemed like there was a case of too many chiefs and not enough Indians to go around. But to make sure that everyone had more than one skill set they had to have experience... and of course rank went with that experience. Ryans wasn't worried about the rankers, it was the Colonel that had him worried. There was something there, a not quite mobster look on him. No, not mobster... shark, yes, dark doll like eyes. He knew the Colonel was sizing him up; he just wasn't sure for a coffin or what. They'd all find out soon enough.