Amplitude

by Dean M. Cole

  As they had moved, Angela had seen Vaughn look toward the door more than once. Even now, he was stealing glances in its general direction.

  She narrowed her eyes. What are you up to, mister?

  Turning from the door, Vaughn saw her staring at him. She gave him a pointed look. “Why are we here?”

  The corners of his mouth twisted downward, and he shook his head. “No idea.”

  Even as he said it, Vaughn glanced at the door and then back at her. He might have fooled everyone else, but she knew him well enough to know when he had something up his sleeve. She’d seen Vaughn acting like this back in Tripoli when he was about to reveal the Angela’s Dream.

  Deciding to let it go, for now, Angela took a seat between Vaughn and Monique.

  Rourke leaned forward in his chair and looked around the table. Then his eyes locked onto Angela’s. “Maybe that’s why the Necks won’t go through the white light.”

  “What do you mean, Rourky?”

  Turning to look at Rachel, Rourke responded, “The Necks appear to only travel between dimensions using wormholes. Maybe the light wave damages their memories like the reset wiped BOb’s.”

  “We talked about the same thing,” Angela said. “I think it might rob them of their sentience.”

  Monique nodded slowly. “Basically, we are the sum of our memories. They shape us, form us. We interact with the world based on what the memories of past actions have taught us.”

  “Exactly!” Rourke pointed to BOb. “If passing through the light robbed our bot of its memories, maybe it does the same thing to the Necks.”

  Vaughn grinned. “So it turns them into vegetables.”

  Chance smiled menacingly. “I fancy the idea of rendering their entire race into drooling dolts. They certainly didn’t hesitate to do worse to us.”

  Angela shook her head. “I don’t know. The light didn’t affect BOb’s memory. He didn’t lose any when they beamed him to Hell … or any of the other times he beamed himself to and from the place.”

  “It’s all a moot point now,” Mark Hennessy interrupted. He held out his hands. “Vaughn told me you guys nuked the bastards. That should set ‘em back a bit.”

  Teddy nodded excitedly. “Da! Mister Nukey should have blasted them back to Commodore-Sixty-Four age, yes?”

  Angela shook her head. “No. I think the reset of the timeline undid the nuke.”

  Vaughn regarded her through knitted brows. “Undid it? Why? It was set to blow.” He raised an arm and pointed at his scarred wrist. “We returned with our cuts and bruises. Our perceived timeline has continuity. If anything, the nuke should have …” His eyes lost focus and then went round. “Oh shit.”

  Angela had already worked her way through this thought experiment. She watched as Vaughn did the same.

  He looked at McCree, mounting horror evident in his face. “Did …? Did we nuke a submarine?!”

  The director looked at him, the non sequitur rendering the man mute for a moment. Finally, he shook his head. “I’m pretty sure I would have heard about something like that.”

  Vaughn began to nod slowly. “I imagine you’d have heard if a pair of nukes went missing, too.”

  “Yes … We have contingencies to add orbital assets to the search effort should one, or two, nuclear devices go missing, but … why …?” Then realization dawned on the man’s face. The same look suddenly registered across the visages of several other attendees.

  Nodding, Angela held out a hand. “The reset returned the nukes to their starting point, just like it did to us, but fortunately, the memory dump must have wiped its timer. Regardless, we can’t assume the Necks are no longer a threat.” She looked around the room and gave each team member a meaningful look. “It gets worse. We also can’t assume they no longer know of our dimension.”

  Shouts of ‘What?!’ rang out.

  Frowning, she tilted her head. “We may have lost our multiversal anonymity.” Seeing the confusion deepen on several faces, she added, “The Necks might know we’re here now.”

  “What?!” Bingham boomed, Angela’s proclamation finally drawing the man off his single-minded track. “How? We reset the timeline to a point before your mates at CERN could create a black hole. The bloody Necks had nothing to detect. They shouldn’t even know we exist!”

  “You know they exist.”

  The man opened his mouth to protest, but then it snapped shut.

  “Son of a …” Bill started, but then he, too, fell silent.

  Angela dipped her head. “We kept our memories through the reset, so it’s possible some of the Necks did as well.”

  “Oh, no, Command-Oh.”

  “I know, Teddy. It sucks.” Angela paused and looked at the rest of the team members. “But that’s what we’re left with.” She nodded to Vaughn. “Looks like we’ll get to test your theory.”

  “My theory?”

  “Yeah, back when we were trapped in the time loop, you said the Necks were right to fear us, that humanity wouldn’t sit by idly if we knew a race of land-hungry robots were sitting on our multiversal doorstep.”

  “I still think that, but how the hell can we do anything about it now? My scenario was if we had the same ability to cross into other universes. We don’t have the hardware or the tech, and what we did have got fried.”

  Angela extracted the Arch disc she’d managed to keep on her person.

  Vaughn’s eyes went wide. “You still have them.”

  Nodding, she held it up. “This one, anyway.” She turned and addressed the entire group. “Turns out, physical memory isn’t wiped by time resets. This one still has all the data I downloaded. It’s still intact.”

  Confusion clouded the faces of Team One.

  “I managed to pluck the Necks’ program and their coordinates from CERN’s network before the reset.” She wagged the disc. “It’s all still here.”

  “How do you know?” Monique asked.

  “My interrogator, I mean debriefer, verified that the one I surrendered still had viable data.” She held up a hand. “Don’t worry. Based on my insistence, she used an air-gapped computer.” Seeing confusion on a few of the faces, she added, “A computer not connected to a network. Didn’t want any alien viruses getting in.”

  They nodded their understanding.

  Vaughn pointed at the small optical disc. “What good does that do us? I thought it was just the alien software and their coordinates. Without the hardware, it’s as useless as a football bat.”

  Angela smiled and raised an eyebrow. “I saw something else when I was loading the files.”

  Bill blinked. “And you’re just now telling us?”

  “As you may recall, we were a bit pressed for time at that moment.”

  Monique leaned in. “What did you see?”

  “They appeared to be circuitry designs.”

  Rourke’s face lit up. “Designs for what?”

  Shrugging, Angela said, “Looked like a light wave emitter to me.”

  Shocked into silence, everyone stared at her mutely.

  Then their heads turned as a knock rang out from the room’s single entrance.

  Vaughn’s face lit up. Jumping to his feet, he ran over and cracked open the door. After peeking out, he nodded and then turned to face the room’s occupants.

  The man was practically bursting with excitement. It was the same look he’d given her when he’d pulled off her blindfold in Tripoli.

  He shared a conspiratorial grin with McCree, and Angela realized that whatever this was, the two men had conspired to make it happen. That explained the mysterious look Randy had given Vaughn.

  “Ladies and gentlemen.” Vaughn paused theatrically and then flung open the door. “I believe I’ve found someone you’d all like to see.”

  A group of faces looked out from the opening.

  The head of a small, dark-skinned girl peered through a gap. “Daddy!”

  Bill bolted from his seat and ran across the room. He scooped up his daughter and hug
ged her tightly. Then he wrapped up his wife in the bear hug.

  Angela watched the scene repeat across the room. Someone even walked in holding a pair of cats, raising a cheer from Monique.

  As she watched it all develop, Angela wished her mom was still around. She’d have loved to share this with her.

  It was good that the rest of them were getting this opportunity. They should enjoy the moment. Soon, it would be time for humanity to go on the offensive in this multiversal war.

  Angela pictured the Neck who had tried to drag her through the wormhole during the first timeline reset. Narrowing her eyes, she swore an oath under her breath. “Whatever it takes, I'm coming for you.”

  Someone tapped her shoulder.

  Angela turned to see Vaughn standing next to her.

  An elderly waif of a woman was clutching his arm. A tattoo featuring a winged electric guitar protruded from one of her shirtsleeves. She was positively beaming.

  Vaughn smiled at Angela and winked. Then he looked down into the woman’s face. “Mom, I have someone very special I’d like you to meet.”

  Afterword

  Well, what do you think? Enjoyed the ride?

  Thought I would take a moment to pop in and chat with you about where we are and how we got here … and, more importantly, where we go from this point.

  A lot of people ask how I got the idea for Solitude. It started while I was on an apocalyptic-focused reader form. We were discussing what you would do if you woke up to discover that you were the last person on Earth. Assuming one could get past the emotional aspect, what kind of crazy shit would you get into, given the entire world at your disposal. Of course, this assumes that all of humanity’s toys are still lying around just waiting to be played with.

  My answer to this question led directly to the creation of Solitude.

  As long as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be an astronaut. Even made it part of the way, having flown jets high up in the atmosphere. However, if the world had ended and I had nothing left to lose, why not cross into the final frontier. I’ll bet there’s something parked at the not-so-secret airbase in Area Fifty-One that could get me all the way there, and being a rated pilot in both helicopters and jets, I’d also bet I could fly it.

  Why not? What the hell.

  Cool, I had the beginnings of a story, but I needed a reason to go to space—other than just for the hell of it. So I stranded a beautiful woman up there.

  What more motivation could a red-blooded hetero man want, right?

  So I had the last man and the last woman along with a plausible motivation to go to space, but I needed a reason for them to be the last.

  Enter the Necks.

  You know what happened after that, but what happens next?

  Those no-neck-havin’ mother effers got to go, that’s what.

  There just ain’t enough room in the multiverse for us both.

  This brings me to the next Dimension Space trilogy. Magnitude, the fourth book in the series, is coming soon (cover below). It’ll kick off the second DS trilogy, Multiverse War, with the scale of a space marine war epic while retaining the characters you’ve (hopefully) come to love and adding a few more.

  What do you think? What plot twists would you like to see? What crazy shit would you get into if you were the last person on the planet? Give me a shout by using the social media or email links in the About the Author page at the end of this book. I’d love to hear from you.

  Finally, I need to ask a favor. I'd truly appreciate a review of Amplitude. In this day of e-marketing, you have the power to make or break a book. Please click here (or the Amazon icon below) and then click the "Write a Customer Review" button to share your thoughts by posting a review for Amplitude on Amazon.

  Now for the bonus question. Did you catch all three Expeditionary Force Easter eggs? I’m a huge fan of Craig Alanson and his books. I’m also fortunate enough to count him as a friend. Thanks to our shared audiobook narrator, R.C. Bray, we also share many fans. Those Easter eggs were for you. I hope they elicited a laugh or three.

  Thank you so much for reading Amplitude and for being my copilot on this adventure. Don't forget to follow me on your favorite site by clicking the appropriate links on the About the Author page.

  Fly safe!

  Dean M. Cole

  Seabrook, TX

  Magnitude: Dimension Space Book Four

  Click or tap here to be notified when Magnitude goes live.

  It’s war!

  We’ve pushed the Necks from our world, but we can’t hope they won’t find another way to eradicate Earth’s life. When Angela sends a probe to the coordinates she tried to nuke, it reveals a massive threat. If we are to survive, we must unite. With our very existence on the line, humanity will take the battle to the enemy. If you enjoyed Multitude, you'll love the epic scale and plot twists in this all out war for survival.

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  Sector 64: Sneak Peek

  Another Great Series by Dean

  The Complete Sector 64 Set

  (Click or tap the titles or the image to learn more.)

  The Sector 64 Timeline

  1947 - First Contact a Sector 64 Prequel Novella

  Today - Ambush - Book One of the Sector 64 Duology

  Tomorrow - Retribution - Book Two of the Sector 64 Duology

  Seventy years after the events of First Contact, most of humanity is completely unaware of the coming changes. We live and die believing we are alone. In 2017, Air Force fighter pilots Jake Giard and Sandra Fitzpatrick discover the decades-old secret project to integrate Earth into a galactic government, but then the plot renders our world a disposable pawn. An interstellar war spills onto our shores, plunging the planet into an otherworldly post-apocalyptic hell. Can Jake and Sandy save humanity from extinction? If you like action-packed, page-turning novels, then you'll love the electrifying action in this apocalyptic thriller.

  SECTOR 64: AMBUSH SNEAK PEEK

  Captain Sandra Fitzpatrick's steady rhythmic breathing, a technique born through years of cardio training, belied the horror gripping her soul. The teddy bear, oh God, the teddy bear. An image she couldn't shake, the vision would haunt her for the rest of her days.

  Earlier, while jogging toward the distant terminal building, Sandy came across a still idling airport transfer bus. Hoping to use it to expedite the crossing, she peered into its closed glass doors. In spite of the eastern glow of the coming sunrise, she couldn't discern details through its dirty windows. However, the bus looked empty.

  Jamming her fingers into the rubber gap between the panels, Sandy tried to pry the split glass doors apart. After a fruitless, half-minute struggle, she finally noticed a backlit, recessed emergency-release button left of the door. Activating it, Sandy heard a short blast of compressed air. She jumped as the doors popped two inches out of their opening and then parted, each sliding in opposite directions.

  "Hello?"

  No reply rose above the bus's droning diesel engine.

  She took a tentative step into the opening. "Is anybody in here?"

  Standing half in the doorway, Sandy screamed as two strong hands, squeezing from both sides, grasped her shoulders. Another blast of compressed air burped from under the bus, and the door trying to close on her retracted.

  "Shit!" Sandy kicked the right panel of the retreating glass door and shook her head. Keep it together, Captain Fitzpatrick. She stepped all the way into the bus, and its doors slid closed. Air-conditioner blower noise replaced the engine's. Getting over her skittishness, she stepped into the driver's compartment. In the dawn's wan light, the seat looked empty. Groping in the darkness, Sandy worked her way closer. A few awkward seconds later, she finally dropped into it.

  Something was wrong with the seat. It felt like someone had left a towel or cloth on it. Running her f
ingers across the material's loose, rippled surface, Sandy froze, remembering what she saw while peering down into the empty F-18's cockpit. An uncomfortable hard object dug into her right thigh. Wide-eyed in the dark, she leaned left and pulled it out from under her leg. Breathlessly holding the object up, she studied its angular silhouette against the deep turquoise hue of the early morning sky. A round ball on one end and a long rod on the other, it felt metallic. With her opposite hand, she blindly searched the instrument panel for a light switch. A huge windshield wiper arm sparked to life, its dry, rubber blade chattering against the dirty glass. Another switch later, the bus's cabin lit up like an exam room. Sandy blinked and squinted as the sudden blast of light burned her dark adapted eyes.

  Finally able to see, she squinted at the device in her hand. Struggling not to scream, Sandy dropped the artificial hip. Jumping to her feet, she looked down to see a bus driver's uniform strewn across the compartment. While the driver's shirt was on the floor, the pants, belt still buckled, lay in the seat. She saw several shiny objects littering the interior of the pants. Bending, she looked closer. In a sudden epiphany, she recognized the parts as titanium screws.

  What the hell could do that? She looked from the strewn articles, to the screws, and finally to the artificial hip where it had landed next to her right foot. Why isn't there any blood?

  Backing away in shocked dismay, Sandy stumbled. Regaining her footing in the bus's central corridor, she looked aft and froze. Visible in the cabin's stark, white light, emptied articles of clothing littered the entire bus.

  A glint of light drew her attention to one of the front left seats. A teddy bear's half-open, glass-bead eyes peered from under a vacated toddler's outfit. On the narrow bench, a little girl's tiny white and yellow dress sat between piled clothes of an apparent mother and father. Worn in anticipation of an early morning departure to some exciting destination, the tiny girl's yellow ribbons and pink bows now lay strewn about her emptied clothes.