by William Lee
Then two more successfully launched. Six in total, only one got hung up on the tracks. Six more to go, two of which would lead to certain death for its occupants. Forte smashed the button again; this time the red light blazed on his display. The shuttle that failed to launch was not within his field of vision, Forte timidly spared a second glance at the failed shuttle next to him, somber eyes stared out the window, wondering if anyone was going to come and save them. Wind was flashing around the stranded shuttle. It was starting to glow a faint red from the friction and pieces of it were starting to break away. While the super structure of the Impegi was built to withstand extreme heat and conditions, the jump shuttles were not so stoic. Under normal conditions, the jump shuttles would employ their heat shield upon atmosphere reentry, but it could not be activated while stuck on the track. Forte took little solace in the knowledge that it’s occupants would be burned to a cinder long before the Impegi slammed into the Earth’s surface.
Four shuttles remaining to launch. One will end in a fiery death for its unsuspecting passengers. Forte smashed the button again. This time, both shuttles shot out from the Impegi’s superstructure. Two shuttles left, one with occupants that were doomed. Could Forte have condemned himself, and his command officers, to death by choosing this shuttle? He had a fifty-fifty chance. He pushed the button. His shuttle leapt forward and was free of the Impegi. For a moment, he was relieved to feel the freedom of a second of weightlessness, then the substantial guilt sank his heart. The launch of his shuttle meant the deaths of ten crewman. Had he remembered, he could have crammed those thirty crewmembers onto the nine shuttles with proper launch equipment. Better to sit in the pressurized cargo hold than be burned to death as the ship plummeted to Earth.
Yet, Forte could not afford to think about the dead, he still had work to do, and it had to be done fast. Four minutes to impact. Forte had the Impegi’s flight control on his hand-held display. One minute until he had to activate the antigravity field around the Impegi. He glanced up at the stone-faced Pilosus – unsure if Pilosus knew why the three shuttles had failed to launch.
Forte pulled against his harness restraints to get a better look at the Impegi; it was far below them, freefalling towards the rocky surface. Forte’s jump shuttle had engaged its fusion reactor and was approaching Earth in a controlled dissent.
Captain Stella was at the shuttles helm, “Where should I take her down?”
Forte replied, “About a mile from the impact crater; find a place that gives us cover. We don’t know who will be there to greet us.”
“Yes Sir,” Stella muttered, putting on the jump shuttles helmet and focusing on the controls that lit up across the visors screen. The jump shuttle was controlled by a hybrid of handheld steering and neural signals received through the helmet.
Forte’s plan, for better or worse, not that he had time to carefully consider it, was to activate the antigravity field around the ship three minutes from impact. The antigravity field would eliminate the force of gravity on the ship. Forte hoped that by activating the force field, the gravitational pull would be lessened, and the ship’s speed would be reduced.
Forte activated the antigravity force field, and, as expected, the Impegi’s speed stabilized. Still not enough for a survivable crash, but perhaps enough to salvage some of the cargo.
“Commander, two jump shuttles just lost power; they are in freefall,” Stella shouted.
Forte shook his head, “Do we know why, what happened?”
“No radio contact,” answered Stella, “their optical stealth shields are not functioning; humans on the ground can clearly see the shuttles.”
The Impegi had three minutes of reserve power. Forte planned to use two minutes and fifty seconds of that power in the last minutes of the fall to minimize the planet’s gravitational pull. The final ten seconds were to be used to power the plasma shields. Forte could see on his display that the Impegi was essentially in a nose dive toward Earth. Forte rerouted eighty percent of the shield’s power to the bow. It made sense to divert the little remaining power to the section that would receive the brunt of the impact.
Ten seconds from impact. Forte pressed the button on the display to divert all power from antigravity to plasma shield. The Impegi smashed into the cold, hard rock that made up the surface of Far East Russia. The plasma force field, which was designed to withstand impacts of up to 25,000 miles-per-hour, shuddered, as the force field drove deep into the barren surface. The billions of nanobots that were directly behind the shield reacted with the rock as they came into contact, turning unforgiving rock into a sand-like powder, until the nanobots were completely depleted. The superstructure of the ship, which was designed to withstand temperatures of more than 10,000 degrees and impacts of comets and small asteroids, crumbled and broke.
There was no hope for the thirty passengers stuck in the jump shuttles that failed to launch. Any ship made from human technology would have been vaporized upon impact. The Impegi, laying in a crater that was created upon impact, was broken into several large pieces.
Commander Forte watched as his ship, and dreams of expanding a Moon Base, disappeared into an ever-rising pillar of dust and debris. Having been singularly focused on the plummeting space craft for the last seven minutes, Forte, now accessed the ultra-dimensional channel 12 to the moon base, “Moon Base, do you copy?”
“This is Moon Base, we thought we had lost you. Commander Forte, it is important for you to understand, you have crashed into territory that is under enemy control. We have no forces in the area. Any contact will be hostile,” General Byrd warned.
Sighing, Forte said, “As if this day could get any worse. When will we have an extraction?”
“Negative Commander, as of this moment, there is no extraction plan in place.”
“No extraction? We are not soldiers, we can’t defend this crash site. What is the technology level of the indigenous population?”
“They have advanced human technology. Including jet planes, helicopters, organized military forces with high command-and-control, oh, and nuclear capabilities,” General Stone Byrd replied.
“Great, what’s the enemies ETA?” Forte asked.
“Fortunately, the Impegi crashed in a remote area. It will take several hours for first responders to arrive, and days before serious ground reinforcements can arrive. Commander, what’s your situation?”
“We lost three jump shuttles upon launch and two more in dissent, all crew presumed dead. Seven jump shuttles have survived. That’s about seventy survivors. Most of the command officers survived. Beyond that, I still don’t know the condition of the surviving crew,” Forte replied.
“Sir, was Commander Furier able to salvage any of the Element 115?”
Forte bristled at the question. He was aware the ship was carrying Element 115 and that it was valuable, but above all else?
Forte replied, “I believe so, but I don’t know how much was lost in the crashed jump shuttles.” He glanced over at Commander Furier with a wrinkled brow, as if to say ‘I know there’s something you’re no telling me’.
“Commander,” General Byrd directed, “your mission at this point is to preserve the Element 115 you have aboard the remaining jump shuttles. You must not let it fall into enemy hands. You need to evade and elude the enemy long enough for us to devise an evacuation plan. You need to find a place to hide and sit tight. Moon Base out.”
“Stella, change course. Our mission is not to preserve the Impegi. We have been instructed to find deep cover and hide from the Russians,” Forte ordered.
Stella glanced back at Forte, “Aye, Commander.”
Stella informed the other six jump shuttles that they were to remain in optical stealth mode and seek cover.
Commander Forte and the other officers had taken off their harness restraints. The jump shuttle was flying at about 300 miles-per-hour, a hundred feet above the ground. The officers were looking out the portal windows for a good hiding place for all seven jump shuttles
. The jump shuttles had plenty of fuel for local movements, but could not cross the Pacific Ocean fully loaded with passengers and cargo.
The jump shuttles were equipped with optical stealth, but if used constantly, it would drain the fuel supply. Forte wanted to find cover where they would not have to constantly keep the jump shuttle consuming fuel to remain hidden. An hour spent looking for the right cover could conserve their fuel for a week.
“Stella, do we have ground penetrating radar? Can we scan for caves? I’m looking for a place to set down that won’t be spotted from the air?” Forte asked.
“Yes Sir,” Stella replied.
Commander Furier, who was sitting next to Stella in the co-pilot’s seat, started pressing buttons on the display. “Sensors indicate we are rapidly approaching a mountain range; the humans call it Chersky. It is about 900 miles long and the highest peak is 10,000 feet.”
Captain Pilosus, looking at his hand-held display, added, “The Chersky mountain range is essentially uninhabited. There is little chance of detection, but we would be close enough to the crash site, if we are careful.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Present Day
Moon Base
Major Tom woke up at six am, just as he did every day, without the benefit of an alarm clock. He was sleeping in his twin bed; his personal quarters were smaller than a standard hotel room, as space was at a premium on the Moon Base. At least he had his own quarters; many of the lower ranking officers had roommates. As he unraveled from his twisted gray sheets, he stretched his arms and glanced out the small portal that stood watch over his bed. He was thankful for the window; not everyone had a view of the rocky moon surface. In the six months, that he had been stationed on the Moon, he had never left the confines of the base. His position did not require him to go outside the base’s ten-story structure.
The Moon Base had an enormous footprint, larger than any Earthly shopping mall. The ground level of the base was a large open area used to store space craft and vehicles that could be used to explore the rocky surface. Space craft could land directly next to the large hanger and be transported into the bay through a series of air locks. From the base’s command center, they could monitor all Earthly communications, travel, and dangers lurking in deep space. The level directly below the command center was the human crew’s quarters and DFAC. The Vitahicians, often referred to as Nordics, worked side-by-side with humans, but preferred their own separate crew’s quarters.
Levels three and four, above the hanger bay, were off limits to all humans. In those levels, the Nordics had complete autonomy to do whatever they wanted, away from prying eyes. It was sovereign Vitahician territory. That was the deal struck between Americans and Vitahicians decades earlier. In exchange for greatly advanced technology, the Americans agreed to give the Nordics their own sovereign territory, on Earth and the Moon Base.
Major Tom stood a slight five and a half feet tall, had strong jaw, and light brown, closely cropped, hair. Upon graduating from MIT at the top of his class, with an advanced astrophysics degree, he was courted by the top global corporations. He was offered signing bonuses large enough to pay off his student loans and buy a house in the suburbs. He never intended to go into the military; the idea never even crossed his mind. He always thought he would get a job working for a big corporation earning three to four hundred thousand a year, and maybe settle down and marry a smoking-hot chick and have some kids. That was not to be.
His whole life changed when, shortly before graduation, he was contacted by an Air Force recruiter. At first, he blew him off, but the recruiter persisted. Tom finally ceded agreed to do one interview. The recruiter met him at his apartment on a Friday morning and told Tom that he had to sign a confidentially agreement before even moving forward on the interview. Tom begrudgingly signed it and was told that if he spoke to anyone about what he saw, he would be thrown into an off-shore detention center for the rest of his life – no lawyer, no trial. By the look on the recruiter’s face, Tom knew he was telling the truth. He and the recruiter drove to the nearest Air Force Base and into an unmarked hanger.
There, Tom was introduced to an Air Force pilot who was standing in front of an unrecognizable plane. The recruiter explained to Tom that while NASA was reporting to the public about rovers being sent to Mars, the Air Force had been landing humans on both the Moon and Mars for decades. He went on to explain that they had a space ship that could carry people to Jupiter and back in a matter of a few days. The pilot explained that the antigravity plane behind him was capable of speeds up to Mach 6 and could travel around the globe in a few hours. The most impressive part was that the Mach 6 plane was over 20 years old.
The recruiter boasted that the technology Tom was being shown was nothing compared to what the Air Force truly had to offer. After taking a ride in the Mach 6 plane, Tom was beyond convinced, he was captivated. After signing numerous non-disclosure agreements, the Air Force gave him a measly signing bonus and sent him to officer’s training school. Over the next several months, Tom learned about the existence of alien technology, treaties with other worlds, and the Moon Base. He was surprised to learn that the penalty for unauthorized disclosure of classified alien technology was not imprisonment - but death.
Like all other officers on the base, he had to follow a strict code of silence. There was absolutely no communication with Earth, other than official military business. Moon Base personnel were not allowed to return home prior to their leave for any reason, not for car accidents, holidays, or even family deaths. There was no email or video conferencing with people back on Earth. Most of the men on the base were single.
As Major Tom put on his clothes and made his bed, he thought about Marie, his girlfriend. ‘Girlfriend’ may be overstating it. She was a girl back in San Diego that he used for sex. He wanted more; he really liked her, but she could not wrap her head around him being gone for six months at a time with no communication. She protested that other military personnel could email and skype while they were deployed. It frustrated him that he could not tell her what he did.
He stepped out into a long hallway that contained dozens of doors. Each door led to crew’s sleeping quarters. On the same level as the crew’s quarters was the Dining Facility and recreational facilities. Tom had fifteen minutes before he had to be at his post; so, he stopped at the DFAC to grab a banana and cup of coffee.
“Good morning, Major Tom.” The greeting came from one of the eight full time cooks that worked in the DFAC. Archie was Tom’s favorite cook.
“Can I scramble you up some eggs, Major Tom? Or how about some grits and bacon?” Archie sounded even more cheerful than normal.
“No thanks, Archie, not today. I’m just going to get some coffee and a banana,” Tom replied as he filled up a mug and pointed to a basket full of fruit.
“Big day, huh,” Archie nodded his head as if to say he already knew. Even though he was a chef, Archie held a security clearance comparable to the President of the United States. Still, he should not have known what was happening today – compartmentalization at its finest.
“Don’t know what you are talking about Archie,” Major Tom smiled, security was not his department. Of course, on a base where everyone knew everyone else, the favorite chef is going to overhear conversations.
Archie chuckled. Archie was one of the few African American crew. In his late fifties, he had a pot belly and would normally never meet the physical qualification to be in the Air Force. Space Command was different. In addition to being an excellent Chef, prior to his first retirement, Archie had been a test pilot for experimental antigravity planes. Since Space Command wanted as few people to know about aliens and moon bases as possible, it made sense to recycle people that already had the knowledge rather than train new ones. Throughout Space Command, you would find seemingly entry level positions, cooks and janitors, filled with persons of incredible talent. It was commonplace to meet a maintenance technician that, in his first career, had been a test pilot or assas
sin. Space Command paid otherwise lower-skilled workers incredible salaries due to the top-secret nature of the things they may hear or see. It’s hard to convince an eighteen-year-old high school graduate that’s flipping burgers to keep his mouth shut about an interstellar space ship.
Tom walked to the elevator and pressed the button for the sixth floor where he worked most of the time. His team was developing a low yield antiproton ultra-dimensional missile to fire from the Moon Base at another planet. The missile would be completely undetectable to any radar because it would phase out into another dimension during travel time and only reappear in target dimension seconds before impact. Upon impact, the antiproton, a form of antimatter, would react with actual matter, creating an explosion equal to a 1,000-megaton bomb, yielding little to no long-term radiation. When the project was completed, the 1,000-megaton bomb would be capable of cracking the Earth’s surface and lighting the atmosphere on fire for 100 years. The ultra-dimensional aspects of this weapon were still in the experimental stages, but the antiproton missile was operational. Major Tom could not figure out why Space Command would want a missile that would break open the Earth like a child breaks open a piñata at a birthday party.
He and his team had just finished the final testing phase of another, more useful project. They had developed a Low Yield Tactical Earth Penetrating Nuke with Optical Stealth, or TEPNOS for short. The TEPNOS could be fired from the Moon Base and penetrate deep into the ground before detonation on a time delay set by a controller. The TEPNOS also had a variable yield aspect, allowing the controller to adjust the nuclear yield after launching the missile. The primary purpose of this weapon was to take out deep underground military bases and terrorists hiding in caves. This weapon would cause all the devastation of a nuclear blast with none of the long-term radiation issues. This was a relatively small nuclear missile and the variable yield could be anywhere from two kilotons to fifteen kilotons depending on the target and objective.