We can’t use it either. But our engineers can study the Darkside gate. The scientists and engineers can back-engineer it and make new portals. That’s the hope anyway. Then humanity can set up gates anywhere we want.
That could happen quickly if the tech guys develop a method to make gate sections small enough to allow personal teleportation. I suppose that would be asking an awful lot of the twins, to move gate sections all over the galaxy. They could give us a good start at least. To stop the Empire, we’ll need to move massive pieces of equipment, like warships.
We have one or two more days of spying on Cygnus Prime, before heading back to the office.
October 4 th There have been so many amazing things to see. I mentioned the skyscrapers that go miles high. They also have elevators running up to platforms in space. Way out in space from what we can tell. I bet there are apartments up there. Ships can resupply at platforms already in space, reducing the energy cost of breaking free of most of the gravitational pull. We’ve seen oversize elevators that are probably hauling product made in zero-G for use planet-side. With the sky elevators, people, equipment, and all kinds of things can get lifted to orbit at low cost. Smart.
And it’s something they’ve been working on back home. I bet even without Empire technology, or bug technology, we would have space elevators by the turn of the century. A space elevator is basically a cable tethered to the ground and running out something like 22,000 miles into space. The center of mass for the elevator needs to be in geosynchronous orbit. That’s why the center of mass is so far out in space. The cable runs straight up to that orbiting station. The station just hangs up there, all geostationary like. Straight up. And electromagnetic elevators ride up and down.
We might be only 50 years behind the Empire with space elevator technology. I don’t know. We’ll catch up fast on that and everything else. Or let Cygnus Prime help. A little recon, a little espionage, we’ll help ourselves to their technology. Then, the entire galaxy awaits. One more task for tomorrow and we go home. We have our eyes on a military officer. We think he is of a fairly high rank. And he seems to be attached to the dome base we ... defeated. We will try an interrogation; see what we can find out; maybe even take him back with us.
October 5 th It’s time to check in on our subject and see if we can do some interrogation. There are gun emplacements, large weapons facilities, near each dome base. We think those provide defensive cover to the base when the dome is down. Maybe when a ship exits a portal gate and makes for another location in the Cygnus Prime system.
This particular officer has been outside the dome site we wrecked on a daily basis, working with crews who seem to be doing cleanup in preparation for reconstruction. There are robots moving all over the area inside the dome. They’re spraying some sort of foam, gathering debris. Decontamination and cleanup. No doubt it’s a radioactive mess in there. We have detected no radiation outside the dome however.
Anyway, this military guy seems to be in charge. We’ve checked in on him for the last couple of days. He seems to keep a tight schedule. First there is a visit with someone, it looks to be the foreman of the dome cleanup crew. After that, he hops in his aircar for a quick trip and visit to the nearby gun facility. Then he heads off to who knows where.
If he keeps the same schedule today, we’re going to make a grab for him when he gets into his car, after the facility visit. The plan is to grab him from the car. Its large and private, shielded from outside viewing and scanning. Well, our scanners can’t penetrate the shielding, and we assume the shielding was made to block Empire tech.
Mr. T, Roll, and I will port in under cloak. Roll is getting good at porting into tight spaces, feeling for any untangle shakes. He and I popped in under cloak for a quick look when the car was empty, to determine the layout.
The inside was a lot like a party-limo, the interior consisting of a big oval couch taking up the entire interior. There was a lot of legroom. We had hoped for an opportunity like this and had the foresight to bring a bag and some twisters.
What’s that Para? Oh, yeah, good idea. I should elaborate since bags and twisters are rather new tech. A bag basically looks like a hood. When dropped over a person’s head, it shrinks and wraps to conform to the persons features. It wraps tightly and effectively muffles any noise that a person might make. It blocks vision and limits the olfactory sense because of the intentionally strong fabric odor. Muffs block the auditory senses. The fabric is air permeable, so there is no problem breathing, other than the stink.
Twisters come in a variety of configurations. We’ll probably use the figure-8 twister since the locals have anatomies that are similar to ours. The subject’s arms are pulled back, the top twist loop is secured around the elbows. Bottom twist loop is secured around the ankles. The twist automatically provides tension, adjusting as the subject moves around, further limiting motion. It can be very frightening. One feels quite ... vulnerable.
As our target exited the facility and moved toward his car we ported in under cloak. He entered the car. Roll grabbed his hand, and we ported to our camp in the wilderness. We slipped the bag over his head and locked him in a Figure-8 twister. I released the cloak.
Mr. T started a delve. The military guy resisted Mr. T’s attempt at delving. They are evidently well trained for any type of interrogation. Even delving. But Mr. T was able to break through to some extent. He suspects officers that are sent off-world on a regular basis receive additional training. They will be hard to crack, not that this guy was easy.
Mr. T was moving along with the delve when we heard that eerie klaxon sound of the Cygnus Prime emergency response vehicles. Crud, we had checked for any electronics the guy had and left them in the car. It seems he must have had an embedded scanner-cloaked chip. Time to go. Mr. T clamped his arm around the officer’s neck in a sleeper hold. It worked. Similar anatomy. We had already packed and were ready to leave for home. We pulled off the bag and twister and ported.
Mr. T wasn’t able to discover much in the way of actionable intel. But he did uncover one very disturbing bit of information. The Empire had decided to take an extra precaution with their most current project, the subjugation of Earth. They ordered the bugs to drop a gate on the way to Earth. The officer knew of it as an Ancillary Gate. Those are used for emergency situations or for tactical purposes. The officer didn’t know the coordinates for the Ancillary Gate.
He was still angry with the bugs, regarding that gate. They were supposed to set it up at Jupiter (or Saturn, but Mr. T was sure it was Jupiter). They had completely botched the command, setting up the gate several light years from the Solar System. That doesn’t seem very far anymore.
The enemy was close and would soon come out of the darkness to exact their revenge. That same evening, even though I was safe and sound back home, the nightmares from the early days of the invasion returned. I tossed and turned. The nightmares finally faded and were replaced by a dream. It was both terrifying and reassuring; a frightful vision and a wonderful gift. Have you ever had a dream that was so vivid, it seemed more real than the waking world?
***
A VISION
In the dream, I found myself standing in vigil as the Battle for Los Angeles was just starting. I was looking toward the ship landing site at Long Beach, prepared to be a silent witness, already knowing what had happened during the battle.
There came a terrible wind, with waves roaring all around me. I was terrified as I finally noticed my location, standing on the surface of the ocean, looking at Long Beach, as the waves crashed all around me. Then, as quickly as it had begun, the wind died down. The ocean waves calmed, only to be replaced by a dense blinding fog.
In my vision, the fog dissipated, and I saw a great war being waged in the stars against a backdrop of darkness blacker than space. The darkness was in the likeness of an enormous serpent, or maybe a serpentine dragon.
The dark serpent looked on as one battle flowed into another in a great interstellar war. I realized
as one battle folded into another, that time itself was folding up, moving relentlessly toward an inevitable point. It confused me, not knowing if time was flowing backward or forward.
I kept watching until I was once again standing alone in vigil over Los Angeles, with the Moon looming in the sky. The Moon, so large, seemed to be watching me. I thought of the enemy base at Darkside and how close the invaders had come to opening the portal and letting the real monsters through.
I knew this was a call to walk upon the waters, no matter how deep, no matter the waves, no matter the darkness. To trust and be at peace despite the circumstances. This was a dream I would need to remember and hold to in the days to come.
INTERLUDE. Between the Storms. Viz. Roll.
*COMMUNAL: It was like a long calm before the inevitable storm. Humanity had faced a terrifying enemy from another world and won. Great difficulty often enables strength and maturity.
The people of Earth had been roused from the slumber of complacency and cured from the disease of endless and often meaningless hostility. Oh, there had been defeats as well as victories. Of good note, times of victory had evoked humility rather than pride. Defeat merely strengthened resolve.
A strong unity had been forged that was strong enough to last beyond the immediate crisis. There was still a trace of fear. A war of unknown composition loomed. For most, so it seemed, acknowledgement of a grand purpose set before humanity moderated the fear.
There could be only a limited peace dividend as humanity had merely entered a lull before the greater storm. Yet the spirit of unity brought with it a willingness to share. We will let the philosophers determine the cause of the effect.
Viz wrote in one of her articles that humanity had since entered a time of spiritual renewal, a time of action-oriented love. There was certainly data that suggested as much. Yet, the depth of that renewal would still need to be tested, as such things are. Real testing comes with the storm, not during the calm, inevitable as that storm may be.
As the world slipped into a relatively normal routine, the Shockwave youth moved on from High School to University. There was the underlying assumption they would all enroll in ROTC, Reserve Officers’ Training Corps. There was some unexpected pushback.
***
THE INTERLUDE WITH VIZ. HIGHLIGHTS.
For Viz, the time had come to choose a college major. As the clock wound down for a decision, she was still uncertain, torn between Chemical Engineering and Journalism. Rock seemed to know what she would do even before Viz did. Perhaps, deep down, they all knew.
“It’s Viz. She’ll just carry a double major,” Rock declared.
That is exactly what she did. She chose a double major in Chemical Engineering and Journalism, a combination that would surely keep her quite busy. Then there was ROTC.
Viz was not interested in ROTC. She was adamant about that. Her grandad pointed out she was a born leader. In fact, she found herself leading more often than she wanted, which was actually never. There was a spark, a confidence, that caused people to look to her more often than not.
Of course, there was something more complicated going on deep inside. In general, the assertion that Viz was leadership material was borne out by test scores and personality inventory assessments. All that was clear on the surface. A bit below the surface it was murkier. An attentive review of the assessments would likely shed light on any potential problem areas. Or, one could just ask Viz.
Mr. T was exasperated. “Sweetie, you are a leader. We need people like you to be well trained. ROTC will help with that.”
The conversation had been going on long enough that Viz was a little distressed. “Here’s the way it is, Grandfather, sir. I tend to freeze up when there is a life-and-death situation. Or any important decision. It doesn’t happen every time. But it happens enough. I’ll get people killed. With respect sir, I will not do it. I don’t feel I should do it.”
Mr. T looked thoughtful then held out his hand as though it held the solution. “What if we can determine the cause? And fix it?”
Viz glared just a little and lifted both her hands in response. “How will we do that Grandfather? Will you delve me?”
Mr. T thought about it. “Hmmmm. That is an idea. But I think the answer lies with a deep analysis of your personality inventory assessments. I’m having the Shockwave AI do that even as we speak.”
Viz look puzzled. “You mean Communal?”
Mr. T shook his head. “That’s not a bad idea either. But I’m speaking of the AI program that was set up for operational planning and headquarters management. It is on par with the best strong AI systems available. It’s not Communal, but it is more than capable of the data mining required. Let’s see if Mr. Peabody has completed his task.”
Mr. Peabody is quite a marvel. It is not on a level with a human being of course, or Communal for that matter. Still, it is a capable state-of-the-art quantum AI construct. Viz and Mr. T went to his office. He shut the door.
“Mr. Peabody, ” called Mr. T.
Mr. Peabody sounded energetic and very human. “Hello Mr. T. Hello Viz. I suspect you are here to discuss my review of the personality assessments. You would like to know if there are any data points of interest. Do you have a specific area of inquiry?”
“Leadership aptitude,” responded Mr. T.
“Very good,” said Mr. Peabody. “As you requested, I have data mined all pertinent personality assessments, background interviews, and several volumes of mission debriefing reports. In most leadership categories Viz scores in the 4 th quartile. Good job! Top 25% of your class! Ahhhem.
“Yet, Viz exhibits a high degree of anxiety when confronted with a need for expeditious determinations in the midst of a crisis event. She is often able to overcome the anxiety and make a decision within a reasonable interval of time. Occasionally the anxiety reaches that of a low-level amygdala seizure.”
Viz shrugged. “Isn’t that what I said? Except the amygula thing.”
Mr. Peabody was happy to correct her. “Amygdala. It is a part of the limbic system, associated with memory and emotion. The seizure, in you case, can be severe enough to lock your response for a significant period.”
Mr. T cocked his head. “What is the cause? Can it be cured?”
Mr. Peabody sounded uncertain. “I do not have sufficient data to answer your questions. I can say that a sufficiently traumatizing event, especially at a young age, would correlate well with the data I have analyzed.
“Recognition, acknowledgment, and self-analysis of the initial emotional trigger event could greatly reduce the level of anxiety. That in turn could resolve the amygdala seizures.
“I have access to subroutines that would allow a high-level therapeutic analysis and treatment. Are you aware of the initial trigger event?”
Viz had a puzzled look. “I can’t think of anything. No.”
Mr. Peabody tried something else. “Other than this concern, what other personal situation troubles you from time to time.”
Viz thought for a minute. She may have wanted to jab Mr. Peabody just a little with her answer, not fully comfortable with the notion of a machine digging into her psychological makeup. “Well, other than the human race being subjugated to the Empire of Cygnus Prime, there is my concern for Rock.
“I am concerned that Rock will not acknowledge he is in rebellion against the King of Heaven and Earth, the Almighty, and take the narrow path of return that has been offered to us all, the path made available at such a great cost, yet was bought and paid for at His own expense.
“But my most immediate concern is Roll, he...”
Mr. Peabody interrupted, intending to bring only one concern to the forefront. “Perhaps we can concentrate on Rock for a moment.
Viz shrugged. “If you want. Really, Roll is a more immediate-”
Mr. Peabody seemed to want to gain some therapeutic momentum and control as he interruped. “You expressed concern that Rock will not acknowledge that he is in rebellion against the King of He
aven and Earth, the Almighty, and take the narrow path of return that has been offered to us all, the path made available at such a great cost, yet was bought and paid for at His own expense. To wit, you are concerned for Rock due to the outcome of Hell?”
Viz cocked her head a little, confused at the interesting perspective of the AI and the direction of the conversation. “Okay, yeah, I guess.”
Mr. Peabody processed for a couple of seconds then said. “I have sourced the likely philosophical matches based on your choice of wording. I see there have been three main views of Hell held by Christians. They are quite different. Perhaps a good read would be helpful. Here’s one: All You Want to Know about Hell: Three Christian Views.”
Viz scowled a little. “I guess I didn’t realize there was more than one view. But what does all this have to do with my situation?”
Mr. Peabody almost sounded as though he harrumphed a little. “Why, it’s merely a displacement replacement technique to help the targeted ... concern ... come to the surface.
Viz had had enough. “Oh, for goodness sakes. I’m not sure what displacement replacement turmoil is keeping me from finding your junction box and pulling the plug.”
Her s-loop rang. Mr. T nodded that it was okay to answer. This session didn’t seem to be going anywhere.
Viz answered. “Hello?”
A machine voice responded. It was Communal. “Elizabeth, what happened in the Tacoma Mall parking lot? You were five. Mia was only four. She was only four Elizabeth!”
Viz started crying. “Mia got hit by a car. It was all my fault. Mom was putting some stuff in the car. She told me to hold Mia’s hand and watch her closely. Mia is only four. There, that’s a good big sister. Mia pulled away. She was just as strong as me. I couldn’t stop her. She pulled away and ran into the road.
“She got hit by a car. Well, the car stopped. But it bumped her just a little, and she fell down. She just laid there crying, screaming. Mom totally freaked out. Elizabeth, what have you done? Mia! Oh Mia! The guy got out of the car and started freaking out too. It was all my fault. I was sure Mia was going to die.”
Battle for Earth Page 30
