The Gathering Storm

by Marshall Miller

  Bettie began to simultaneously laugh and cry. “You son of a bitch! You’re supposed to be dead.”

  Cliff winked. “The stories of my demise have been greatly exaggerated, my dear.”

  Bettie pulled back enough to look at his face. A few more lines, some hair now white, but it was still Cliff. “Why didn’t you tell someone?” she demanded. “You’re not even listed among the human staff up here.”

  “Sorry, darling, I couldn’t. I was put on ice, and told that if I pissed off the Lordship in charge here, I would have a quick trip out the airlock. I guessed the way I got here pissed off some beings.”

  He glanced at Bettie’s companions. “Pardon me while I completely destroy any semblance of good order and discipline and kiss the woman who was supposed to be my fiancée.” He kissed her deeply, and she automatically responded. It was like they had only been apart for six days, not six years. Bettie and Cliff finally separated, and Bettie asked, “Did I hear the word ‘fiancée’?”

  “Oh, almost forgot. I’ve been carrying this around for six years.” Cliff pulled a small beat up ring case from his patched up flight suit, with may have been dried blood on it. “Here. It’s been too long for me to get down on one knee. You can’t say no to marrying me.”

  She smirked at him. “How do you know I’m not already hitched, you conceited bastard?”

  “Good intelligence. Now, are you going to say yes, or am I going to have to take this thing back to where I bought it?”

  It was gorgeous. A huge stone surrounded by a starburst of others. A ring like this had not been manufactured since the first rock hit.

  She started to cry. “Damn you.” She heard her shipmates behind them begin to applaud.

  “Congratulations, Colonel,” Joseph declared. “Now, I hate to be a party pooper, but please. Say yes, kiss him, and let’s go check in with the powers that be. I have a broadcast to make.” Bettie did just that.

  They slowed their walk to the Central Control Room so that Cliff could explain to Bettie and company how he came to be on Platform One. “It started with a launch of our one and only space interceptor from Area 51. I had been helping test various systems on that craft when the ‘balloon went up’. Or, actually, the rocks came down.” He squeezed his new fiancée’s hand. “I couldn’t even tell the good Colonel here what I was doing. Need to know crap and all.

  “Anyway, on day seven of the invasion, they managed to get what looked like a cross between an SR-71 and one of those spaceships from a Saturday morning cartoon show up and running. It had an experimental pulse generator engine, two to be exact, and we cobbled a few weapons onto it. There was a 30 mm cannon from an A-10, two Sidewinders and two AMRAAM air to air missiles, and a tactical suitcase nuke hooked up to a small cruise missile.”

  He sighed. “Man, were we rushing around like our hair was fire. Before I knew it, I was strapped in, doing some half-assed systems checks. Then, they told me I had to act as a delta was approaching the area. We didn’t know it was just running a recon flight. They launched me using some Jato rockets, so I got off the ground. Then, a thousand feet up, I fired the engines.” He chuckled. “What a kick in the ass! I managed to get the interceptor pointed straight up and away I went. I was slammed into my seat by I don’t know how many Gs. Somehow, I managed to shut the engines off after a few moments before I blacked out. After that, I restarted them and used them in small bursts of power by throttling up and down. The engineers had built one hell of a strong craft, or else I would have broken apart due to the unexpected power of the two experimental engines.”

  “Before I knew it, I was in near orbit. I saw the huge asteroid that is Base One and decided it made a hell of a good target because it was so big, even I would have difficulty in missing it. I used the gyros and maneuver rockets to line up my nose on the target, and then hit my main engines.”

  “Were you scared?” Samuel interjected.

  “Frack yes! Oops, sorry about my language. Anyway, there I was, hundreds of thousands of feet in altitude, flat on my back, and barrelling toward the target. No shit.”

  Bettie jabbed him in his ribs. “Please, stay focused. I know this is fun for you, but it’s still a shock to me.”

  “Sorry, Bettie. I haven’t had a new audience in years. I’m almost there… I was lining up, accelerating toward this huge rock when suddenly, deltas were in my flight path. They must have launched from Base One at a near right angle, and did not even see me. I knew it was only a matter of time before someone noticed me. So, I started firing.”

  His eyes had faraway look to them as he continued. “I hit the 30 mike-mike first. In outer space, there’s no air friction to affect the trajectory, just Earth’s gravity, which at my altitude was reduced. I was basically weightless, so the rounds were too. Straight line of shot, over a mile away, I hit the first one. A satisfying plume of water shot out as the cockpit was penetrated. Then, the cockpit itself disintegrated, and pieces of craft and Squid joined the rest of the space junk orbiting the Earth.”

  His voice took on a new intensity. “Other deltas began to notice something new was in orbit with them. I was soon the proverbial one legged man in an ass kicking contest as I quickly had a target rich environment.

  “The Squids had more experience in operating their craft in space and I was definitely learning as I went. Maneuver jets, vectoring the main engines, using the gyros, I was trying to twist and turn and shoot all at once. I hit two more deltas with the 30, and watched as they turned into space junk. I hit the gun one more time and it fired a couple of rounds and quit. I hit a delta with at least one round, and it started to leak water from the cockpit system into space. It broke off the attack on me, but was quickly replaced with another, that started firing rounds at me.”

  He squeezed Bettie’s hand again. “I cooked off one of the sidewinders and the damn delta started tracking it instead of me. I found out later that the Squids and their systems latch on to whatever is travelling fastest or maneuvering sharpest, much like predators like T-Rex apparently did.

  “I cooked off the second sidewinder, which tried to track the ambient heat the delta still had from its rockets. The sidewinder’s maneuver fins were worthless in airless space, but its gyro and the missile vectoring engine trying to jerk it around caused it to kind of skid toward the delta. Once its internal ‘brain’ said that it was going to miss, it self-detonated. That peppered the delta with some debris, but also threw some in my direction. So, I almost shot myself down. One decent chunk cracked the delta’s cockpit, releasing more frozen water in Earth orbit.

  “The Squid pilot must have been pissed as he turned toward me and started shooting. So I launched an AMRAAM missile at him. They have directional engine thrust so it was able to redirect toward the delta after I skidded my nose to point in the general direction. The delta fired at it at point blank range, so when the warhead exploded, it shattered the cockpit and nose cone. I saw the Squid in its cockpit seat zip by me. Then I took more hits from shrapnel. My cockpit was holed, but since I was in a suit, I still had pressure and oxygen. The straps in my seat held me in. The interceptor held together, and I tried to line up on the asteroid again.”

  He swallowed. “More deltas came at me. I fired my last missile, armed the cruise missile with the nuke, and pushed the throttles forward.” Everyone continued to walk slowly, waiting for Cliff to finish.

  “Something hit my spacecraft and it came apart. I remember trying to eject, and I blacked out. When I regained consciousness, I was floating in space. I saw a delta tumbling end over end nearby, spewing the water atmosphere of the cockpit out in every direction. It smashed into another craft and they both started tumbling toward Earth’s atmosphere. I said a prayer and tried enjoy the view, as I knew my air would run out before I was pulled into the atmosphere. And swore because I couldn’t leave Bettie here a note told her how much I loved her.” Bettie leaned in a bit closer to Cliff.

  “What happened next?” Sandy asked.

  “A large F
alcon spacecraft latched onto me and pulled me in. The robocop piloting the Falcon was one belonging to his Lordship Neptune. He grabbed me and pulled me in on direct orders of the Lordship. I wound up onboard Base One with the four Chinese astronauts. Because I had destroyed at least five deltas, my existence was hushed up. His Lordship, being a student of human nature, knew he needed another hero like Captain Bender stirring up resistance like he needed four more arms.”

  “Captain Bender?” Joseph asked.

  “A young pilot who died while taking down three Tschaaa craft, including a Falcon, near San Diego.” Cliff answered. He continued, “The nuke warhead on the missile did not go off, so no major damage was done to Base One. The Chinese and I were told, after over a week of isolation, we could cooperate, or be slaughtered and eaten. I figured if I stayed alive long enough, I might be able to contribute somehow to long term human survival. So, here I am, six years later.”

  Bettie squeezed his hand. “We’re glad you are.”

  “In my experience, the Tschaaa rarely do things without a reason,” Joseph explained. “I suspect I will receive some special directions when I talk to the Director about you, Colonel Hunter. Let’s head into the main control room and find out, shall we?”

  Bettie whispered to Cliff, “If you can’t come back to Earth, I’m staying here. I take it you have been exercising under Earth G in case you can go back?”

  “Affirmative. Between the slow spin and the artificial gravity field on most of this station, I think I’ve been able to keep my bone and muscle mass up. But like they say, nothing is like the real thing.”

  He put his arms around Bettie one more time and gave her one more a hug. “Damn, you feel good. Now, let’s go meet the Wizard.”

  The Tschaaa Lord in charge of the station was younger than Lord Neptune. Cliff had called him the Wizard, after the character in the Oz books, a nickname he had come up with because he was always behind a curtain of bulkheads and doorways in the central section of Platform One. He communicated through grays and robos, or occasionally as a disembodied voice. Like his Lordship in Key West, he had created a human sounding voice to emanate from his translator. This voice sounded like a broadcaster from the 1980s. Plain, clear, easy to understand. No apparent emotion. But, surprise of surprises, the Wizard came from behind his curtain. He lounged in a large sling like hammock affair, his eight arms hanging down loose, suspended about twelve feet in the air so the humans had to look up at him. He was of average size, and the humans would be hard pressed to differentiate him from other Squids.

  “Welcome aboard, humans. Colonel Bardun? You are female, yes? Your accomplishment in piloting such a crude craft from the atmosphere into space gives other humans–male and female–a goal to meet. His Lordship in Key West sends his congratulations. I wish to add my own.”

  “Professor Joseph, I have a direct secure line open to your Lordship. Approach the console where the gray is standing.”

  “Thank you, your Lordship,” a nervous Joseph replied, walking to the console. He still felt very uneasy anywhere near a Squid.

  “Colonel Hunter, I will share with you one thing the Lordship in Key West will inform the Professor. You will be headed back on the spaceplane in about one Earth week. To say that I will be sorry that you are leaving would be a falsehood, something we Tschaaa, unlike humans, have trouble uttering.” The Wizard held his tentacles loose, not using them to sign any emotions. “One of the Tschaaa pilots you destroyed six years ago shared both birth mother and sire with me, though a more recent birth group. That did not please me.”

  Cliff replied, “Well, your Lordship, I would be lying if I said I was sorry that I sent your sibling to the ocean for disposal.”

  Bettie froze. What the hell was he trying to do? Get himself spaced, now, after they were just reunited?

  But the Tschaaa Lord did not react at all. “I respect you as a warrior, Colonel. That is why you were not harvested and eaten. However, I have heard you that would be tough and bitter tasting had I eaten you.”

  The Tschaaa faced the other members of the group. “The two Olsons will remain here for at least one Earth month to help the human scientists, as well as our own, on engineering projects. I expect excellent things from you. Please do not waste time, air, or other resources here on Platform One.”

  “Yes, your Lordship,” Sandy and Samuel answered in unison.

  “I see the Professor has completed his conversation with Earth. The Colonel is returning with the spaceplane, yes?”

  “Yes, your Lordship. And I will be helping you with the examination of craft you have here. After we set up the study, Sandy and Samuel Olson will be doing most of the work on this project. I expect they will learn and accomplish much.”

  The Tschaaa Lord shifted his body slightly. “Good. Now, I will allow you humans to depart to your living quarters. Tomorrow, you will all begin your assistance of the personnel on this station.”

  Joseph saw Cliff give a slight tilt of his head toward a side exit, and guessed they had just been dismissed. “Thank you, Lordship.” He departed where Cliff had indicated, the other humans quickly catching on.

  The exit led directly into what had been the International Space Station, with a couple of large compartments added. Cliff gave them a brief tour. “Here is where we sleep, bathe, eat, crap, and do whatever we humans do when not working with the Tschaaa.”

  Joseph interjected. “Is the Wizard always so... animated?”

  Cliff laughed. “To say he exudes the charisma of a rock is an understatement. Just imagine having to put up with this for six years. Anyway, over there in that added compartment are sleeping quarters for you. There are functioning airplane type toilets thanks to the gravity provided. The other large added compartment is the kitchen, dining, and social recreation area. We are provided with an odd assortment of food, whatever an occasional Falcon brings up, plus a food synthesizer that produces soup and tofu-like foods. The soups are not bad; the fake tofu is not edible in my humble opinion. But, it will keep you alive.”

  He led them into a part of the original space station. “That area is my crib. It’s cozy enough for me. I’ve managed to scrounge a lot of stuff, including a few books that somehow made it up the gravity well. Plus a Tschaaa version of a laptop, which is actually quite fun to use.”

  “So, Cliff, just how is this place set up, vis-à-vis the other humans and the Tschaaa?” Joseph inquired.

  “Well, Professor, we work in person primarily with lizards, grays, an occasional robo, and online with the Tschaaa. The Tschaaa give us general instructions, or a project or idea they want us to work on. We then run with it. It soon dawned on the Tschaaa that we could come up with a lot more original ideas than they could. The lizards are brilliant, but slow and methodical. The grays are just plain weird.”

  He shook his head. “If they are told to do something, they will do it or die trying. I don’t know if they have a true sense of individual self. They can talk and reason, but sometimes it seems like they are working off a collective type brain. They do not show emotions. Believe it or not, lizards show emotion, once you know how to read their expressions and body language. They have a very droll sense of humor.”

  “We humans are divided into two groups. ‘Old hands’, the original four Chinese astronauts and myself, all taken into captivity within the first couple of weeks. The four Chinese are pair bounded, two women, and two men. Then, two years ago, fourteen volunteers showed up. Director Lloyd and the Tschaaa selected these people out of a group of scientists that had jumped at the chance to go into space, Tschaaa control or no Tschaaa control. Twelve still remain alive.”

  “What do you mean, still remain alive?” Bettie interjected.

  “One, a man, committed suicide two months after arrival by a large overdose of a synthetic painkiller he was working on. Apparently the stress got to him. The other, a woman, died a year ago. She was caught trying to sabotage the Tschaaa living quarters with some biological agent. The Wizard had her ha
cked to death by a couple of young warriors as we humans watched.” There was an audiable gasp from the four new arrivals.

  Cliff shrugged. “Hey, this may sound crass, but we are still basically at war. You get caught as a saboteur or as a spy, you die, just like in past human wars. Her death let us know that if we got caught, screwing something up on purpose, we were next.”

  Bettie asked, “Then why were you baiting that Tschaaa Lord? Arguing with them like that seems like a good way to get a quick trip out the airlock.”

  Cliff chuckled. “Oh, that. We have been talking like that for almost six years. I am like a spirited horse or dog to him. He likes the fact that I make him think sometimes.” His expression changed. “While we are on a serious topic, do not forget one important fact. To His Lordship in Key West and the Tschaaa over whom he has influence, we are seen as pets or useful beasts of burden, for now. But, no matter our current role, the bottom line is that we are expendable. Cause too many problems, you wind up as meat. Therefore, everyone here does enough to stay alive, and tries not to do anything that may harm another human. The Tschaaa do not seem to worry about us plotting a revolution. I know they listen in on us periodically, even when we are cursing them. However, they seem so sure of their position of power that short of trying to build a secret nuke they let us accomplish our assigned tasks in whatever way we want.”

  Cliff sighed. “It’s not easy for an old soldier like me not to fight them, to go out in a blaze of glory. But I decided after seeing what happened the first month or so, that I could be cannon fodder now, or work to help humans survive until things get better. Until the day our own Moses comes, says, ‘Let my people go,’ splits the Red Sea, and leads us out of bondage. As unrealistic as it may seem, I chose the latter.”

  “Hope,” Bettie said.

  “Come again?” Cliff asked.

  “Hope. That is how our spaceplane got its name. Hope for a better future for us, and maybe later those humans classified as Cattle. I came up with the name. The Director approved it.”