These Few Brave Souls

by Rodney Manchester

  "Good afternoon," General Westbrook said.

  "Hi there. Hold on just a minute, I need a break," Christopher said as he began the squeezing and further contorting necessary to extricate himself from the confining corridor.

  Christopher had worked himself into a heavy sweat by the time he got out. The temperature this close to the equator was oppressively hot and humid making work additionally uncomfortable. He slowly stood up straight as the aches and pains of hours long confinement needled him. He appraised his visitor through the moisture dripping from his eyebrows into his eyes and he wiped his face on the sleeve of his already wet T-shirt. He brushed his hand on the thigh of his pants and extended it to the uniformed man in front of him.

  "Christopher Jorgenson. How do you do?" he said.

  "Harvey Westbrook," was the reply as he took the surprisingly firm handshake. "Sorry you had to witness that mess earlier."

  "Yeah, me too," Christopher said.

  "Making any progress?" Westbrook asked, obviously changing the subject.

  "Oh yeah," Jorgenson said enthusiastically. "It looks like a larger and more complex version of what they're working on at Lawrence Livermore."

  "And what are they working on there?"

  Jorgenson paused before deciding that a two star General would have the necessary security clearance. "A fiber optic microprocessor. It uses light rather than electrical impulses. With hard wire, we are running into a natural speed limit that wouldn't be there with fiber optics. Plus a larger bandwidth in each light path and a host of other improvements. At least that's what this looks like anyway. I'll need a lot of time before knowing for sure and then even more time to understand the op code and instruction set. The register locations and parameters and I/O configurations will take months, maybe even years to decipher."

  "Well, it's all Greek to me. If you're happy with the progress, that's all I'm concerned with right now." General Westbrook always felt backward when confronted with computers and such. They had become ever more important for battle management, yet he had not taken to them easily.

  A rustling noise from the hatch preceded a young woman's appearance from inside. Her head and shoulders emerged, followed by the rest of her. She was also perspiring freely from the close quarters and high humidity inside. From her wet, stringy hair to the orange smock covered overalls, she was a unique creature to be seen aboard a ship at sea.

  "Sarah Von Framden," she said, extending a wet, limp hand shake.

  "Harvey Westbrook," the General repeated for Sarah's benefit, giving a hand to take hers. "Are things going okay?" Shaking her hand was like holding a dead, wet fish.

  "Yes. There seem to be six propulsion units, each independent from the others. I can't tell for sure, but I think they are using super conductors and there is no provision for refrigeration." Sarah spoke quickly, yet almost in a flat tone of voice.

  "Really!!" Christopher said.

  "I don't understand," General Westbrook admitted.

  "Well, the only super conductors we have ourselves must be cooled to about, oh, a hundred degrees below zero or so. The search for a room temperature super conductor has eaten up a lot of research dollars and is very exciting."

  "What good is it?" Westbrook asked. These intellectual types always made him wonder about how they could get so excited about things like this. It's only wire, right?

  "Super conductors are slick," Christopher said. "The Messingger effect allows frictionless bearings, for instance. It holds things firmly in place without touching anything at all. Also, we use very high voltage alternating current for power generation and reduce it in telephone pole transformers for household use because of the loss in power lines from the resistance of the wire. Percentage wise, resistance loss from the wire is a smaller portion in high voltage than in low voltage. That just scratches the surface," Christopher said.

  "Whatever you say," the General replied with a grin. "I'll have to take your word for it." The General turned serious with his next question. "Have you identified the main, what do you call it, the brain?"

  "The main processor? Sure, right off the bat. I even figured why it crashed."

  "I wondered about that," General Westbrook replied. "It didn't look like anything got blown off in the two missile hits."

  "Two!" exclaimed Christopher. "I thought only one hit it. Sidewinders right? 9-Mikes?"

  "Right, the new ones."

  "Well, not enough boom to knock off a chunk of this baby. Anyway, the main buss popped loose from the board."

  "In English please," asked Westbrook.

  "The shock of the impact knocked a fiber optic connection off the main processor board. Turned it off slicker than hell. Like flipping a switch."

  "Could you do it again?" queried Westbrook.

  "You mean unplug it? Sure, piece of cake."

  Westbrook smiled. "I may have a little job for you, if you feel up to it."

  Christopher looked intently at General Westbrook's face before framing a reply. "Why not," he said at length. "In for a penny, in for a pound."

  "One final question. Have either of you identified the power source?" asked Westbrook.

  "There is a shielded portion in the corner with what look like power lines coming from it. I didn't mess with it," replied Christopher.

  "I saw it too" said Sarah. "It has a big cable going to each of the engines. It's not my area of expertise so I left it alone too. Besides," Sarah added, "I was too excited with the possibilities of the engines. You see, I think I know what makes it go."

  "You what?" asked Christopher Jorgenson.

  Sarah answered "I think I know what makes it go, you know, how it moves."

  "I know what you mean, I just didn't expect you to figure it out so quickly," Christopher said.

  "Why, because I'm a woman?" Sarah said, emotion entering her voice for the first time since arriving on board ship.

  "No. I don't care if you're a woman or not." Christopher's pale skin began to flush as red radiated outward from his rosy cheeks. "Geez, you should back off a little bit. I've never given you reason to say that!"

  "Well, most people think that I'm just a woman so I'm not as good as a man," defended Sarah, refusing to back down.

  General Westbrook interrupted "Wait a minute. You figured out its engines?"

  "I think so," responded Sarah Von Framden. "The actual matter in an atom is small compared to the area it occupies. In a superconductor, electrons can become relativistic particles. You can pump enough of them through a small conductor to push all that empty 'space' out of the way, making a relativistic 'solid' that can be shaped. By making the superconductor into a kind of super propeller, you can push against 'space' itself for propulsion."

  General Westbrook looked to Jorgenson for an explanation, but he just shrugged his shoulders. Harvey turned to Sarah and said, "Whatever you say."

  CHAPTER 36

  In Orbit

  Twenty-two thousand three hundred miles above Equador

  A small part of the flurry of automated activity paused inside the cavernous area and a little used compartment was opened. Inside, three small packages were obtained and examined. Finding the devices unharmed by prolonged storage, they were removed and delivered to the pre-assembly area. Several hours of reprogramming was necessary before the devices were capable of their new mission. While Wemar remotely directed the program change, other robots began to assemble the special propulsion units designed to safely allow the small packages to enter planetary atmosphere.

  Once safely in the atmosphere, they would begin to broadcast their warning on a broadband of frequencies from VLF to HF. They would broadcast in the two languages it had learned thus far, fulfilling Wemar's pledge of a warning prior to future sterilization. The time necessary to move a large population out of the sterilization areas was a factor that never entered Wemar's calculations. Providing a warning was a courtesy that Wemar was extending only so that that her records would show acceptable sensitivity toward native populatio
ns.

  Wemar and her sisters thought of the natives in the same manner as ants. Part of the natural ecosystem, but in the way for future expansion and about to be bulldozed. Not out of cruelty. They were just inconsequential and in the way.

  Then, she turned her mind to her mate and his impending arrival. She thought no more about the natives.

  Onizuka Air Force Base

  Sunnyvale, CA

  "Lieutenant Harlin reporting as ordered sir." Harlin stood at attention before the desk of Colonel Newburg. He had been in this office once before when he reported in the first time.

  "Sit down Lieutenant." Colonel Newburg was a short, gruff man who smoked a pipe. The sweet aroma of expensive tobacco permeated the air and left one wondering how such a sweet smell could cause cancer.

  Warren sat down in the chair placed in front of the desk. One did not relax entirely in the presence of a Colonel so he sat more or less at attention. He did look around the office, and for the first time, noticed how comfortable it was. His first time through here was a little scary and he hadn't paid all that much attention. The walls were covered with remembrances of the Colonel's past duty stations and other memorabilia.

  "Lieutenant," began Colonel Newburg, "I had you sent here because we had a little accident down south."

  Warren was listening intently, wondering how an accident 'down south', whatever that meant, could affect him.

  "I'm sure you’re aware of our computer genius's absence." Newburg waited for Harlin's nod before continuing. "Jorgenson is part of a team put together to study the UFO the Navy shot down. The Air Force sent a Captain named Winnecker," he paused for a moment and looked intently at Harlin. "Know him?"

  Harlin shook his head and the Colonel continued. "Well, he was killed when they tried to open the hatch on the UFO. Jorgenson asked for you to be his replacement."

  Warren felt his pulse quicken and opened his mouth to speak, but he wasn't sure what to say so he merely nodded.

  Newburg smiled inwardly at the junior officer's reaction. "Winnecker was originally sent because he was an aeronautical engineer. You’re not, but, the mission requirements have changed slightly since then and Christopher thinks you can handle it. Frankly Lieutenant, I think you can too." Newburg smiled behind a gray cloud of tobacco smoke.

  Warren watched the smoke highlight the rays of sunshine squeezing between the venetian blinds as the Colonel outlined the new mission requirements.

  Thirty minutes later, after a brief but cryptic telephone call to his wife, he was on his way next door to Moffet Naval Air Station for a ride to El Toro aboard an S-3 Viking anti-sub patrol aircraft. From there he would catch a lift in a Harrier out to the USS Coronado.

  Several hours later, Sergeant Jacobs called out to Captain Nunley as the new object appeared on his screen. "Captain, we've got another one separating."

  Captain Nunley strode purposely toward Jacobs console and stood looking over his shoulder. The computer terminal clearly showed a new object in orbit, separating itself from the original vessel.

  "Sir," began Sergeant Jacobs, "It's heading away from the main object and appears to be de-orbiting. Acceleration must be phenomenal. Look at that puppy move!"

  "Find out where it’s coming down. I don't want any surprises!" Captain Nunley had a bad feeling about this one.

  "It'll be north of the equator this time," Sergeant Jacobs said with growing certainty. "Definitely north."

  The computer network before them was working on the trajectory, narrowing the projected flight path based on ballistic models. Any application of energy would throw off the calculations, but, once in the atmosphere, there is a window of entry that is almost universally used. Too little descent would cause the new object to bounce off the atmosphere and too much would cause it to enter too quickly and burn up. Presuming it is made of familiar materials.

  Several minutes later Captain Nunley was on the phone with Colonel Newburg when he heard Sergeant Jacobs.

  "My God. It's coming down in Southern California. Just east of Los Angeles."

  US Army National Training Center

  Fort Irwin, CA

  Colonel James I. Renik, Commanding, 46th Tactical Missile Battalion, read the FLASH message again. In his entire military career, he had seen two of these. The first had initiated the Air War in Iraq and the second had started the Ground War

  This one warned of a suspected air threat to Southern California by a UFO.

  James Renik became interested in UFO’S as a child in Rio Vista, California. His father told of a flying saucer that had hovered over town, scaring everyone out of their wits. A neighbor, Frank Jerrold, had shot at it with a .22 and they had heard the bullet ricochet. Then the Air Force showed up from nearby Travis Air Force Base and told everyone that it was a weather balloon

  Yeah, right.

  Jimmy had read everything he could get his hands on about UFO’S. Everything, including stupid drivel about ESP communications with advanced beings on Jupiter written by a certifiable nut case looking for publicity. This 'incident' always seemed to be the one that the experts trotted out as a 'typical' example of sightings. He always wondered why reliable, expert witnesses were ridiculed when they reported these things. The same police officers and pilots could convict a murderer if they saw it, but if they see a UFO, it means they're nuts.

  But now, now they're ordering me to shoot one down if we see it, he thought. Yeah, right again.

  "Colonel."

  "Yes."

  "Sir, Edwards Air Force Base is reporting a bogey west bound, headed our way. Matches the FLASH."

  Well I'll be god damned he thought.

  "Confirm that information," ordered Renik.

  Seconds later, "Confirmed sir. It's not ours and its flight profile matches the FLASH."

  "Weapons free, my authority," he ordered.

  Twelve seconds later, the bogey was acquired and locked on. Four seconds after that, the solid fuel propellent ignited beneath the first missile. Moments later, the process repeated as the second Patriot Missile fired.

  Twin loud booms were heard as the missiles accelerated through the speed of sound before traveling their own length. The seeker heads aboard the missiles did not require ground control to home in on their target. They did, however, require a radar signal from the ground to bounce off it.

  Early in the development of US Surface to Air Missiles, an engineer suggested that rather than have SAMs directed from a ground control station, they should try and build a seeker head that homed on the reflected radar beam, thereby steering itself and taking ground control out of the loop. This advancement allowed precious time to be shaved off steering corrections, making the Patriot Missile system one of the most advanced and deadly to invading aircraft, or even some ballistic missiles, as encountered in the Gulf War. It was like firing a bullet to hit a bullet.

  True to its reputation, the Patriot performed admirably, destroying the inbound alien device only moments after it started broadcasting. The message it carried was cut short after almost transmitting once. The message was sent in English, then it began in Spanish, but was destroyed before completing its translation.

  Eighty miles to the southwest, in the Los Angeles basin, all radio programs were interrupted by a bizarre occurrence. In a late evening replay of the most popular national talk-radio show in history, the radio host, with 'talent on loan from God', was replaced by a static strewn carrier wave, followed by an accented English speaking voice warning "all occupants to immediately leave the area". The interference lasted only sixteen seconds and the areas various police and radio stations received hundreds of complaints.

  Skaggs Island Naval Auxiliary Station

  Vallejo, CA

  Located just north of the San Francisco Bay in the middle of salt marsh wetlands, Skaggs Island is an ideal radio listening post. Water, salt water in particular, is an excellent electrical conductor. A salt marsh makes an almost perfect ground for antenna purposes.

  The US Navy recognize
d early in the evolution of submarines that a means of communication with them would be difficult to develop. While most radio waves reflect off the ground, VLF, or Very Low Frequency, penetrates the ground for some distance. For radio purposes, water is viewed as a grounding substance and this means that submerged submarines could be contacted by using VLF. Hence, Skaggs Island.

  Radioman Third Class Preston Houghton sat before the massive radio. He was daydreaming of his family’s weekend trip to Marine World in nearby Vallejo. The Killer Whale show had soaked all of them and his three year old son had cried out in surprise. He chuckled to himself at his son's expression as he was inundated with the cold water.

  The strange whistle emitted from the speaker was not enough to catch his attention. Radio listening to VLF is full of such occurrences, Mother Nature just being a great prankster. The voice following was an entirely different story. They were broadcasting on restricted frequencies so he automatically engaged the recording device, trapping the warning on tape. The broadcast ended abruptly, almost making him disregard to message. Almost. His Commanding Officer had that very day sternly told each of his charges that anything of an unexplained nature should be reported immediately. So, he did.

  UFO Park

  Pacasmayo Sand Dunes

  Wemar's attention was focused on the biology of the new planet when the information distracted her. She glanced at the module and paused as it transmitted the news of the warning devices destruction.

  She then began a series of research projects on the human inhabitants. Reviewing the data acquired since entering orbit, she was surprised to learn that their technology was beyond what she originally thought. Her natural arrogance, along with the first contact, had clouded her opinion of the Humans, allowing her to view them as small obstacles to overcome, requiring little or no effort. No matter, the solution was easy.