Richard could not hide his growing feeling of uneasiness, however. He looked at Karen and saw that she was waiting, aware of his concern, so he spoke up.
“Tutor, display a forward view please.”
A section of the wall seemed to dissolve, allowing the stars to look dispassionately in on them. Richard studied the view for a couple of minutes, then turned to Karen to see if she would like to view it for a longer period. When she noticed his regard, she looked away from the stars, bounced the ball off the wall and caught it after it rebounded from the floor.
Richard requested the rear view and looked in amazement at the bright star just left of centre, which he knew must be the sun. Earth was far too small to be noticeable anymore.
“Space is sure big,” he muttered finally. “You can restore the court now, Tutor.”
“You don’t mind if I serve, do you?” Karen smirked in an exaggerated manner, determined to distract him from his first feelings of homesickness, and thinking about what to offer him for breakfast, after the game.
Chapter Two
Power venting is a controlled final option – Ibernal, Arshonnan Engineer
Judy watched the ship-mounted crane lower the amphibious platform onto the dock and continued to wait – a little impatiently – at a safe distance for the deluge of water to subside. The wreckage of Captain Mark Redwood’s F-15 seemed really fascinating to her, now it was out of the sea and relatively close to her. She could see the typical crumple and tear damage due the impact with the ocean – a surface with characteristics similar to reinforced concrete, when the impact is at about two hundred miles an hour – even though she was still at least thirty feet away.
“Ms. Brisson, I want to thank you again for allowing me to come here today.” Captain Redwood stood beside her, watching with an equal but very personal level of interest as the water continued to drain.
“Captain, it’s really Chief Baynes you should thank,” Brisson responded, stern as ever. “He’s the one who pulled all the strings.” And Leroy got it all arranged, while we still have Redcliff evacuated, and we are free to continue our evaluation of the site at 27 Daniel Street without the public being any the wiser for it.
An army jeep pulled up behind them with a squeal of brakes, and the driver’s door was flung open before the engine noise had ceased.
“Captain Redwood?” Fraser began as he ran the few feet to the two observers, pausing for a moment to catch his breath.
“Ah, you must be Leroy Fraser, famed communications expert of the NUIT!”
“I’ve not heard it said quite like that before!” Leroy grinned, showing his brilliant smile briefly. “We’re just glad you were able to come. How do you feel?” This was said as he shook the Air Force Captain’s hand vigorously.
“Fine! No side effects – other than they had to snip this patch of hair to get the melted plastic from my helmet off my head.” Mark touched an almost hairless and slightly reddened area over his left ear. “I actually feel better than ever. I think the Air Force may be able to market this sequence of microwave heat treatment and icy water immersion as an alternative to attending a health spa!”
“Perhaps, if they could do it without wrecking valuable military hardware.” Leroy laughed with him at this, and was pleased to see, out of the corner of his eye, that Judy was actually smiling a little, too.
“Let’s get busy with our photo record first, Leroy.” She dropped the smile fairly quickly. “We won’t have much time left before it gets dark, since the recovery operation took the entire morning and that salvage ship moves like a sea snail.” While they were chatting, the crane chains had been disconnected from the corners of the platform, and had swung away, providing them with free and safe access.
“Yes, Ma’am!” Leroy grinned again, swinging his camera around in front and looking for interesting effects to document.
Judy climbed up on the deck of the platform and stepped right up to the port wing, or what was left of it. There was evidence of curvature in sections which she thought must have been originally flat.
“This looks wrong.”
Captain Redwood nodded, agreeing.
“That would explain why I found myself slipping into a spin to the left. The microwave energy was strong enough here to soften the structure.” He showed the two NUIT employees the right-hand wing, where there was no such effect, to prove his point.
Leroy was busy for a minute, taking photos of the wings from a variety of angles.
“We’ll do some experiments with microwaves to try and duplicate this, later,” Brisson ventured. “But I don’t think the planes we use will be occupied, or in flight for our tests!”
“I really want to see inside,” Mark revealed. “Part of the reason my Eagle splashed was the disintegration of the controls – it was almost like they were covered in chocolate, instead of plastic, and the heat just got too much for them!”
Leroy climbed up on the leading edge of the wing root and looked into the cockpit.
“We’ll need a pump, Judy; it’s full of sea water.”
And so the examination was delayed a little more, making Judy rather irritable as the light conditions started to worsen, but giving Leroy ample time to photograph the exterior from every available angle, and chat with Captain Redwood, too, as he did it. After a half hour wait for a suitable pump, the interior was rapidly emptied, leaving just a small pool on the flooring. The three checked out the effects recounted by the Captain, and Brisson examined the controls closely, getting Fraser to photograph them in the cramped cockpit. Judy was able to confirm that the damage was what she would have expected from the application of such a high power microwave source. Mark found that the ‘chocolate fondue’ he remembered so vividly was now more like some kind of cheap and stale cake icing – hard and dark, and poorly smoothed.
Judy and Leroy finished their initial study after a further twenty minutes. They allowed the pilot enough time to come to terms with the effect that had so effectively negated his years of flying experience and nearly ended his career prematurely. Eventually, Judy conceded that they had examined as much as they could in the field, and that the next step would be shipping the wreck off to a NUIT warehouse for disassembly and further evaluations, evaluations that would probably take weeks if not months to complete. They thanked Captain Redwood for his time, and saw him into the care of an army private assigned to help them, watching as the young soldier escorted him, heading back to the security perimeter around Redcliff, and his air force transport waiting outside.
Fraser and Brisson walked back to the army jeep they had ‘borrowed’, and hopped back in for the short trip back to the now empty plot on Daniel Street and their mobile command and communications base there.
“I wanted to tell you, Judy,” Leroy began as he drove them out of the harbour. “But I had to wait ‘til our Air Force friend was gone – we just heard from our FBI colleagues, about the mysterious trip Citadel took to Northern Quebec. One of the CSIS agents from there is a ‘mole’ for the FBI, and he managed to get himself assigned to go to the site.”
Judy turned sideways on the utilitarian jeep seat, not wanting to miss any of this.
“It’s still pretty much wide open, but this is what he found.” Leroy could tell from his peripheral vision that his enigmatic female colleague was hanging on every word, and he enjoyed this immensely. “There’s a dense area of forest, with a clearing about one hundred and fifty feet long – and varying in width from eighty to a hundred and ten – and a bunch of footprints in some of the rather soggy and grassless patches, with sole patterns just like Richard and Karen’s soft-looking boots–”
“He got photos to us already!?” Judy interrupted in amazement.
“Yup!” Fraser nodded, then continued as he negotiated the increasingly steep road back to Daniel Street. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the Canadians know he’s getting paid by us, too – they probably have a man or two, or perhaps a girl, in the FBI! Probably quicker than sending thin
gs through diplomatic channels, as an added bonus! Anyway, these footprints go around a course or track consistent with the outer dimensions of Citadel. Mind you, there was no sign that the ship had actually touched the forest floor, that area was apparently unaffected.”
“Perhaps it hovered above the ground – it didn’t land at all?”
“Maybe. At one end of the footprints – which end, I don’t know – there was a cylindrical hole in the forest floor. The hole was about twenty-eight centimetres in diameter, and about a metre deep. Sorry, the Canucks like the metric system – that’s about eleven inches and a yard respectively, isn’t it?”
“That’s so.” Judy confirmed briefly as she pondered this for a minute. She thought back to her visit to the Getaway, almost a week earlier. “It sounds like basically the same size as the hole in the cruiser that belonged to Mr. Stadt, that industrialist or whatever, that disappeared during his vacation off the coast of Florida. And the sliced-up road where the trailer of frozen T.V. dinners was swiped had the same dimensions, but then there was a thinner cut made to explode the fuel tank, too.”
“Yeah, but why go to some deserted spot in the wilds of Canada and blast a hole in the ground anyway?”
“There may have been something there, maybe for a long time… Or…” Judy continued after a moment’s thought. “The hole through the Abrams, made when Citadel was leapfrogging to Richard and Karen’s position, was only an inch wide.”
“And then there was the infrared attack on the other tank – video showed the barrel literally sagging onto the front armour plate of the tank, before it blew up, scattering the evidence over ten acres! So if it is the same technology, it can be varied a whole lot. I guess an adjustable mega-powered laser shouldn’t be a big surprise to us, and just ‘cos both places showed that, doesn’t prove they’re connected.”
“You’re right, Leroy; we don’t have any firm evidence tying one set of incidents to the other.”
“The other part of the news is how the Canadians are responding to our ‘invasion’.”
“Invasion?”
“Yeah, you see their radar showed a projectile, launched from here, that went up high, just like a ballistic missile, and came down in Quebec! They didn’t detect the first ‘jump’, to Springfield – too far from their border. We’re lucky they don’t have a pre-planned response to an attack from the U.S.”
“What reason could they possibly have for such a plan? We haven’t been at war with Canada for a long time!”
“Of course,” Leroy pulled up by the rather battered ‘removals’ truck and switched off the jeep engine. “But maybe they have ‘looong’ memories. They sent a whole bunch of their Falcons to investigate, once the radar confirmed the ‘projectile’ was slowing down as it approached ground level, instead of exploding into a mushroom cloud and starting World War Three. They milled around, trying to find it, and then two of the pilots got brief views of Citadel ‘falling’ back up, this time right into space. No photos, though, and as you know from our experience here, she moves so fast it’s hard to even focus on her.”
Judy nodded, remembering the video she had seen late the previous day, showing Citadel’s abrupt departure – right out of the field of view of the camera, and then the latter part of it, when the cameraman had found the rapidly shrinking silhouette already high in the sky. Wish I’d been in the right spot to see that… instead of being behind a pile of sandbags, trying to keep out of the way of stray anti-aircraft shells exploding and disabled missiles falling back to earth!
“Anyway, our government told their government that an experimental unmanned craft had gone off course. We were officially very sorry to have disturbed the Canadian Forces, and we promised it won’t happen again!”
“I wouldn’t have promised that.” Judy smiled slightly as she pictured the ruffled feathers of their Northern neighbour. “We still don’t know the end of the story of that huge ship that blasted the USS Chicago, and took our great Physicist Isaac Hardy and Mr. Stadt away.”
“Yeah, all we have left from that is the ‘semi-submersible’ Getaway, damage to the nuclear sub, and that trucker guy’s lased-off tractor. Oh, and some very impressive radar tracks. Here we have holes, a fried eagle – aircraft, that is, not bird! – and that ‘stone’ you found this morning!”
“I want to get inside that!” Judy spoke with an almost frightening intensity. “It’s made of the same stuff that Citadel is made of, though, and we never managed to find a way into her before she flew away.”
“Don’t worry, Judy!” Fraser spoke encouragingly as he got out of the driver’s seat. “You have no time limit for your investigations into the ‘Lesser Rock of Redcliff’. Unlike Citadel, I don’t think that rock is going anywhere!”
Chapter Three
Unlike fusion or fission, Eliminators alone can power Star Drives – Ibernal
Some time later, Richard collapsed against the hard wall and slid down to the floor.
“If by any chance you find you don’t like it on Arshonna, you might consider becoming Earth’s world champion squash player as an acceptable alternative!” He reached up to wipe his wrist across his forehead, then realized the one item he had forgotten from their outfits: sweat bands.
Karen crouched down in front of him, revealing a thin sheen on her forehead and a slightly increased rate of breathing.
“Maybe you should get the Medic to check you out again!” She grinned to make sure he knew she was joking. “Go and clean up; I’m going to get you a surprise for breakfast.” She bounced back to her feet and ran lightly through the wall to her Pool Room.
Richard got up and staggered into the other one, not bothering to take anything off before he jumped in this time. In a moment he had adjusted the temperature down enough that the water felt cool, and he swam around in a tight circle, first left, then right. The pool seemed to restore his energy, but his hunger seemed magnified by the relaxing feeling of floating. He climbed out and waited for the mechanism to complete its work, then looked down in surprise at the jeans and tee-shirt that had appeared on his body. His feet were clad with a lighter version of the runner he had ordered up for squash court wear, and – a reminder of Karen’s great sense of humour – a sweatband resided on his left wrist. He chuckled to himself as he stepped out of the Pool Room, but stopped in his tracks when he realized what he was seeing.
There, before him, was Citadel. The sloping grass looked perfect, exactly as he remembered it from the day the school had burned down, and on it, with what looked suspiciously like a wickerwork basket, sat a beautiful girl with a daisy in her pale hair, dressed in a long and flowing white cotton dress with eyelet detailing and trim.
“Sometimes your daydreams come through so loud… I thought maybe this would help you feel more comfortable, as we move so far away from your home.”
Richard walked over and sat down beside her, glancing again as he noticed a faint floral pattern on the dress, and admiring the full skirt which was spread out neatly on the grass on either side of her. He noticed her pale shins exposed below the lacy edge of the dress and saw the delicate leather-look sandals on her bare feet. As he turned to face forwards, he saw the ocean stretching out before him, sparkling and glorious in the midday sun. Something seemed wrong about the view, however, and he found himself staring at it, perplexed.
Karen reached over and passed him a sandwich.
“Chicken salad?’ She watched his reaction and smiled, inadvertently revealing her dimples in the process.
Richard shrugged off the concerns he had been labouring under, and bit into the sandwich.
“This is great!” he said as he chewed. He sat and enjoyed the atmosphere.
“You really have me figured out well,” he admitted after a couple of minutes. “This is just what I needed… how did you do it?”
“I asked Tutor to select a few minutes of the recordings he made of views during our last few days on Earth, and integrate the views of Citadel which we viewed in the ship’s
log, producing a holographic projection like the one from Arshonna.”
“Ah! So that’s why the view of the sea looks a little strange, it’s actually what we could see from way up in the Control Centre.”
“I left out the thistles, too.”
“I’d forgotten about them. Good idea.” Richard studied the grass again, realizing the flaws in his memory, and deciding he liked the selectiveness inherent in such a human attribute. “So, Tutor, is there nothing you cannot do?”
“My functions are limited by the capabilities of this Scout Craft, and the memory banks within it,” Karen’s mentor replied in all seriousness.
Richard chuckled a little as he took another bite.
“Not much of a limitation, when you come to think of it!” He turned back to look at Karen again. “And these sandwiches… mmmm!”
***
Several hours later, Richard and Karen were interrupted by Tutor as they settled into the second round of the new game Karen had invented to help Richard train and develop the abilities hidden in his mind.
“We have reached the point beyond which it is safe to use the full power of the Star Drive,” Tutor announced.
Richard relaxed his concentration and let his mind shield slip away. The lights came up, revealing that Karen was just a few paces to his left, dressed once again in a blue jump-suit, because the cotton dress would have rustled and given her away. It was clear (at least to him) that she would have walked right past him, had the game continued.
“Excellent! You really have the talent, Richard!” Karen congratulated him eagerly. “No one would find you if you shielded yourself like that.”
Richard thought of the Control Centre, and a moment later they both reappeared behind the three high-backed chairs.
Passage Page 3
