Encounters 1: The Spiral Slayers

by Rusty Williamson

  Woodworth had also prepared for this. But this time he would lie. The metallic voice of the Loud translator passed through his mind, you have no chance. No chance at all. He hated the lie but had no choice. “We have every chance,” he said convincingly. Then, more forcefully, “We have every chance in the world of repelling them and of surviving.” Woodworth consciously held eye contact and monitored his facial expression. Jan blinked rapidly as if her mind were changing channels. He saw her relax and take a deep breath. He saw determination replace the hopelessness. Slowly he turned to look at Lenny. The fear seemed gone, replaced with resolve. As he turned again to Jan, he backed up the lie, “The Loud feel that we can win.”

  Jan took another deep breath then said, “Okay. Where were we?”

  Relief washed through Woodworth – that crisis was past and shouldn’t come up again. He was thankful that it had come so soon and that he had seemingly handled it successfully.

  He put his hands on his hips and began pacing a few steps one way, then the other. “Being so close, the explosion of the star will be the brightest object in the sky for months, if not years.” His voice began to rise, “It will be an icon…a beacon…” he stopped pacing and pointed upwards, “a symbol…shining in the heavens, visible in broad daylight.” He leaned forward placing both hands on the edge of Jan’s desk. “Not only showing the reality of what the alien did to our friends, the Loud, not only a burning image of what they will try to do to us, but also a sign that the alien is coming and, in fact,” he rocked back and rose both hands, palms up, “marking the exact spot in the sky that our enemy will come from.” Both Jan and Lenny’s eyes were wide imagining the event that Woodworth described.

  Woodworth didn’t normally get so worked up. Seeing the look in Jan’s and Lenny’s eyes, he realized how carried away he’d gotten and could feel his face growing red. “Anyway,” he said, waving one hand through the air as if he were brushing away his little outburst, “we have a lot of planning and preparation to do.”

  Jan was grinning from ear to ear. She rushed around her desk, and passing Lenny, turned to him and swung an arm out, whacking him in the stomach. An “oof” was audible as Lenny bent slightly forward.

  Woodworth, not yet accustom to their shenanigans, cringed.

  Jan, with a large smile on her face, bent over slightly in order to look Lenny in the eyes, “I told you we needed this guy!” she exclaimed. She straightened, turned to Woodworth and grabbed his arm. “Come on, Floyd,” she said as she began marching him out the door of her office, “I’ll take you around and introduce you to everyone! And then…well, I guess we have a hell of a lot to do over the next couple of hundred years.” She led Woodworth out the door.

  Lenny was left leaning against the wall still partially doubled over holding this stomach, but he was smiling. He hadn’t seen that one coming and hadn’t tightened up his stomach. She’d gotten him good. Again. And it hurt. But he pushed off the wall, straightened up and, making sure his smile was in place, left to follow after them.

  ---

  Adamarus awoke slowly. Grace was snuggled into his back holding him tightly and their feet and legs were deliciously tangled together. Sex last night had been slow, tender and loving—at first anyway. Not like the two nights before. They had been separated for over a month and the first two nights had been impatient, wild and needful.

  He kept his eyes closed, enjoying the warmth and the light pressure of her breath on his back. He faced a window and could tell by the light filtering through his eyelids that it was still early. Yes, it would be very good spending some time close to his family. At first he had felt guilty about snagging this assignment…but not too guilty, and this had passed as soon as he had walked in the door.

  A subtle shift in the light on the back of his eyelids made him open his eyes. His right eye could only see the pillow and covers, but his left showed a flexed index finger, tucked under and held back by a thumb—like one might flick a bug away—just inches from his nose. Adamarus’ hand shot up and grabbed the small wrist. “Pest!” He muttered.

  Nero giggled, “Da—ad! Mom said you had to get up early!”

  Adamarus’ smile grew for it was still that wonderful time between sleep and reality when all that his mind knew was the warmth and love for his family and the sound of his child’s laughter. There was only the present and those things within sight.

  But, the words “had to get up early” triggered a process that brought an end of that blissful time; why did he have to get up early? He needed to begin important discussions with an alien. Why? They needed to begin the process of creating new super weapons. In under a second, “reality” came into focus and his smile faded a little.

  “Dad, what’s wrong?”

  The smile went back into place. “Oh, I just don’t want to get up yet.” He felt the bed move.

  Grace’s voice was hoarse, “What time is it?”

  “Time to get up!” Nero announced again.

  Grace was already swinging her legs out of bed. “Hi, sweetheart! Come on,” she grabbed a robe that had been tossed on a chair last night and slipped it on, “let’s get some breakfast!” She took Nero’s hand and as she headed out the door, she looked over at Adamarus and gave him a smile and a wink.

  After they left the bedroom, Adamarus stretched and got up.

  ---

  Radin woke up just as the small ram jet banked and lined up with the docking facilities. Anderson Shipyards orbited directly over the North Pole and Radin was disappointed that he had slept though the approach. It was supposed to be a spectacular sight and everyone had told him not to miss it. But he had. Looking out the small view port, all he could see now was the gray steel walls of the space dock passing by the space liner. Then the ship entered the main dock and things got more interesting. Dozens of ships in their berths lined the walls for as far as he could see, up, down, and to each side. Then the ship turned and the full extent of the massive berthing chamber was revealed. It contained hundreds of ships. The shipyard was as busy as ever building ships, but Radin knew that ninety percent of the ships he saw here were not related to ship construction, but rather a booming business that had developed over the last several decades—tourism.

  It had started well before the last war and Skyway Enterprises, who owned and operated the yards, had mostly ignored it. Back then there had been no facilities, hotels or births to accommodate this unexpected intrusion, and cruise and pleasure ships had simply ”hung out” under the huge space platform. Then, during the early part of the war when the conflict was still millions of miles away, the yards had tried to ban the sightseers with little effect. When the conflict moved closer and the first acts of sabotage near the planet appeared, the shipyard employed security to chase the ships away. But this only lent a measure of danger to making a run into the area and hanging out until a security ship headed their way. And they always had enough time to escape.

  At the end of the war, Skyway had new management who decided if you can’t beat them, join them. Now almost half of Anderson Shipyards’ profits came from tourism and Skyway, originally only a ship construction company, it had branched off into the tourist industry.

  With a clang and a hiss, the medium sized ram jet, capable of seating up to a hundred, locked into the terminal. The steward came back and addressed Radin, “Commander, you may now disembark.”

  Radin undid his safety belt, took hold of the guide rail and floated up. Again he was struck by the ninety-nine empty seats – he had forgotten; he was the only passenger.

  He made his way to the exit where the Captain and steward smiled and wished him a nice day, and then he grabbed the moving rail which took him into the terminal. The artificial gravity slowly rose and his feet touched the floor. He let go of the moving guide rail and walked into the terminal.

  An escalator took him up one level to the Viewing Concourse which also contained the baggage claim. Here, thousands of tourists enjoyed the main attraction through giant floor to ce
iling view ports that went all the way around the circular concourse. And the sight was something to behold. Oddly it was Radin’s first visit to Anderson, so he had never seen it close up and from this ideal vantage point before.

  Outside the view ports, the planet stretched off. Directly below was the North Pole. And completely encircling the orbiting shipyard, in all their beauty and glory, were the Northern lights – the Aurora.

  Radin took a seat and watched for several minutes. It was the best light show in the solar system. Curtains of soft pastel colors rippled as spikes of brighter colors shot up between them, twirled, then fanned out.

  A lazy southern accent came from behind him, “Nice view, isn’t it?”

  Radin turned to see General Joseph (Joe) Burnwall. He was a very short man, perhaps five-foot-six inches, but this was not what you noticed when you met him. His bearing, ramrod posture and the quiet strength of absolute authority in his voice marked him immediately as a powerhouse and a no-nonsense leader. In every way that counted, this five-foot-six inch man stood six feet tall and, despite his true height, you felt you were looking up at him. He had short brown hair graying at the temples and dark brown eyes set in a tanned face of sharp angles resting on a box chin. His hand came out and Radin shook it. The handshake was powerful, but not the bone crushing vice of a person that had something to prove. Radin liked him immediately. He also realized that Burnwall looked around fifty years old.

  “You haven’t taken the I-pill!” Radin blurted out before he could restrain himself.

  Burnwall smiled, “No, but I will and soon.” He moved to the railing next to Radin and looked out at the light show. “I just thought I’d see how many people dropped dead first.” His deep chuckle was rich and warm. He turned and faced Radin, “I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.” He smiled and reached out and grasped Radin’s shoulder. “It’s good to finally meet you.” His hand came away and motioned towards the elevators behind them, “Shall we?”

  As they walked to the elevators, Radin asked, “How much do you know?”

  “Wicker briefed me, but I haven’t passed on anything to my staff yet.”

  “Good. Then you know that we have a good deal of time before ‘it’ arrives, but at the same time…”

  “We don’t have any time to lose.” Burnwall finished.

  “Exactly.”

  As they approached the bank of elevators, Radin noticed that one was being held in place for them by four guards. As they boarded, Burnwall dismissed them so they would have privacy to talk. The doors closed and the elevator began its assent. Radin continued, “Where do we stand right now?”

  “Three hundred and two officers and crew qualified on the Leviathan are all here.” Radin looked over in surprise. Seeing this, Burnwall squinted his eyes, “I don’t fool around, Captain.”

  Radin had been promoted to the rank of acting captain of the Bet’ti when Adamarus had been injured. However, as was the custom, Radin still wore the silver oak leaf of commander.

  Burnwall continued, “There are over a thousand different technical fields we need to fill on each of the ten ships, and I’ve taken the liberty of selecting 1,444 officers to be trained by the ones already qualified in these areas.” Burnwall snorted, and looked over at Radin with a sour look, “Almost all of these technical fields are decades out of date, still, I’m overstaffing by two complete ships plus some as a safety buffer.”

  “Outstanding,” Radin said. Radin was starting to feel like a fifth wheel—Burnwall had definitely taken the ball and ran!

  “We’ve one problem,” Burnwall continued, “we only have twenty-seven officers qualified on the L-Class fighters and they are all here as well. Still to be decided is how many we’ll want to train.” Radin nodded. Burnwall snorted, “The problem we face here is, there are no operational simulators. Not a one. And no specs that we can find to build any.”

  Radin said, “Taken care of. There are twenty out at Hideaway. Half will be shipped here as soon as possible.” Radin tried not to smile too much. So far Burnwall had been scoring all the points…not that anyone was counting. “How soon do you see training starting?”

  Burnwall snorted again, “My boy, training began at 05:00 the day before yesterday.”

  Radin was stunned. “These trainees are already in training! You don’t mess around!”

  Burnwall smiled and rocked on his heels, “That’s a Rodge, Captain,” he said in his easy southern drawl and sparkle in his eyes.

  The elevator slowed and came to a halt, but Burnwall reached out and pressed the Hold button keeping the door closed. Then he pulled a small box out of his pocket and opened it. Inside were two silver eagles. “Let’s pin these on you, what do you say?”

  Radin’s eyebrows went up.

  “Your promotion to captain came through while you were in route,” Burnwall said with a smile. He handed the box to Radin, then removed the eagles and proceeded to pin them on Radin’s collar.

  Radin was smiling and nodding, “I was starting to wonder about that.”

  “Ha!” the General barked. “Everyone’s been too busy. The pay increase is retroactive from the time you took over the chair on The Bet’ti. But with everything going on, no need to throw a party,” but as Burnwall released the Hold button and the doors opened, Radin realized that Burnwall was way ahead in the brownie point department.

  The elevator opened onto a raised walkway that overlooked a vast enclosed area that stretched out a half mile and ended at a huge window. Between Radin and that window, over a thousand officers in full dressed uniform stood at parade rest and in formations forming twenty perfect squares. As he and Burnwall walked out to the railing, a single crisp clap sounded as all of them snapped to attention.

  Interspaced among the formations were L-Class fighters. And outside the window at the end of the room, just far enough away that its massive bulk could be completely seen, was a Leviathan Battleship with its running lights on! And behind it were the other nine. Radin stood there in stunned silence.

  Burnwall couldn’t hide his smile. He waited for Radin to take it all in, then said, “I…thought you might want to meet everyone.”

  ---

  Adamarus took a newspaper into the listening chamber. As the soundproof door closed, he walked by Bugs’ inactive avatar slouched in the first seat and sat in the second one next to the robot. He opened the newspaper and settled in for a wait. About fifteen minutes later, the robot next to him sat up. “Hello, Adamarus.”

  Adamarus put the paper down, “Hello, Bugs. How are you feeling today?”

  “I try not to think about that.”

  “I see.” Adamarus thought for a second then said, “Come on.” He stood up and the Avatar followed suit. “Let’s take a walk.”

  “Ah, ‘a walk,’” Bugs said. “as in walking for the sake of walking?”

  “Yep, you’ve got it.”

  “We’ve seen this on various video programs. Outside of the little bit of exercise you get, we’ve never been sure of its purpose, but I will come with you.”

  They exited the soundproof door, passed by the guards and took the moving walk down to ground level and walked outside. It was a beautiful day. The temperature was at seventy-five degrees, the orange sun shone brightly in the deep purple blue sky and most of the once vacant lot was now covered with green grass. Adamarus took a deep breath, the smell of mowed grass reminded him of long by gone days when he used to mow their front lawn.

  They set off down one of the foot-worn paths that ran through and around the lot that the Loud’s shuttle rested on. The area around the ship was filled with control vans, trailers, power generators, and around the parameter, guard houses.

  Bugs followed beside him, and after about thirty feet asked, “How long do we need to walk, Adamarus?”

  Adamarus laughed. “I guess you can’t feel the breeze or the sun on your back, can you, Bugs? If you could, it might make you feel better.”

  “I beg to differ, Adamarus. The heat and
air pressure would roast and crush me within seconds as your gravity flattened me into the ground, so unless you mean death to put me out of my misery…but, I can see that it is what your species would call a pleasant day.”

  “Well, I guess I meant if you were human.” They turned at the corner of the lot. “What would your species call a pleasant day?”

  “You would not care for it.”

  Adamarus squinted up at the sky for a second and then looked back down. "How is it going with the collection process?” Thirty-two avatars had simply collapsed when their Loud controllers had stepped away from the controller booths upon hearing about the disaster that had befallen their home. Two days ago, two of the Loud ships had left orbit to collect the last few that still remained where they had fallen.

  "We've completed that task and our ships are heading back now.” Bugs paused as they reached the entrance to the building that held the situation room and gestured with his manipulator, indicating that Adamarus should enter first. They took the elevator down to the newly upgraded situation room and seated themselves at the new conference table. Teleconferencing screens ringed the room and the air smelled of fresh paint and new computer equipment.

  Adamarus began, “Well, my orders are to work with you in designing new weapons and defenses with which to fight the alien ship. So…first, can you tell me if you have made any progress?”

  Bugs looked at Adamarus, “We have discussed it and we are sure that we can help. However, our species has not had an armed conflict in a very long time, so there has been no need for us to think about weapons of war. Creativity and invention come about through need. We have not had the need. We have ideas but wish to see what you have done and the weapons you now have. We believe seeing what you have done will help. We can also look for ways to improve on what you have now. We also need to take a close look at the platforms you have or plan to build to support the weapons—the war ships, and your fixed and orbital installations.”

  Adamarus took out his PDA. “I’ll have Brandon and Evelyn Eden prepare a presentation for you. Anything else?”