Starship Genesis

by Linda M. Miller

  “Yeah, so am I,” I slam the phone down.

  “Problems?” Ray asks.

  “Yeah, I just lost my most important equipment.” Ray shakes his head.

  “I’ve got to make some calls.” I tell him. Ray acknowledges. Meeting over. Suddenly, I know just who to call. I fish for Valentine’s card and dial his number. The phone rings on the other side.

  “Mark Valentine.”

  “Mark, this is Matt Vaughan.”

  “Matt, what can I do for you?”

  “It seems that the government has overruled my scheduling of two cranes for my Bay project. I was wondering if you could help me with that.”

  “Already have, Matt. I scheduled those cranes for your project.”

  “What?” I exclaim.

  “We’re going to help you complete that project and move it forward a little faster, Matt. We need you over here as soon as possible.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” I stumble. “But I don’t want to lose control over this project, okay?”

  “Understood Matt. We can get you the best crew and we can have that project completed in one week. Are you game?”

  “Sure, sure. I’m headed back down there tomorrow,” I answer.

  “Mind if I join your team?” Mark asks.

  “I don’t see why not. You’re one of the benefactors now.”

  “I’ve never searched for sunken ships. But I enjoy sailing.”

  “Alright. Sounds good.” I reply.

  I realize I’ve been outwitted. Yet, I’m surprisingly satisfied with the outcome. Both projects have been vying for my attention. This is just what the doctor ordered.

  Next day: It’s a sunny drive down to Norfolk. I get an early start and make it down to the docks by 10:00 a.m. The crane ships are ready to push off as I board the head ship. There’s a table with coffee and doughnuts on it. I grab a doughnut. The ship’s sound system plays 80’s music.

  American Geographic has sent an underwater photographer. The National Museum is represented as well. Mark Valentine is also on board attired in a wet suit.

  “You’re a diver?” I ask. “Navy Seal,” Mark replies.

  “Not bad.” I laugh, and shake my head. The crew seems to know what they are doing. I double check to see the Pilot has the right coordinates. The second ship will pull a large barge behind it to carry the ship after it has been raised.

  I put on my wet suit and join Valentine as the boats leave Norfolk. It should be a three and a-half hour sail North.

  “Where exactly are we looking at?” Mark asks.

  “The site is located just off Point Lookout State Park at the mouth of the Potomac River.” I tell him.

  “Revolutionary War?” he asks.

  “It’s Confederate, and it’s outfitted with cannons from the British. We’ll spend today vacuuming the sediments and clearing mud from around and inside the boat.”

  “Couldn’t ask for better weather than this.”

  “If this ran into next week, it wouldn’t happen. We’ve got storms from the south and southwest coming in and it would delay the project. And with hurricane season starting up again in June...It’s now or never,” I add.

  “Yeah, I’ve done dives in terrible weather, and I don’t recommend it. I actually understand why this Bay is strung out with ship wrecks all over.” Mark states.

  “More than 1800,” I answer. Many were taken out by storms, some by explosions or such.”

  “What sunk this ship?” Mark asks.

  “It most likely hit a sand bar during a storm and took on water. That would cause it to lose its cargo and crew in the current. This particular boat is a steamer, and the old steamers couldn’t handle gale-force winds.” We arrive at noon and the crew gets started immediately. The crew lowers two vacuum hoses, one from each ship, into the water. We screen the sediment before casting back into the bay to capture small artifacts. The process takes hours. We also uncover the name of the boat’s identity as “The Magnolia Blossom” of New Orleans. But the name doesn’t fit the registry.

  “Does that mean it’s not Confederate?” Mark asks.

  “No. They probably changed the name of the boat to disguise it.” I reply. “The Confederacy was getting desperate near the end of the war and started moving their shipments undercover with help from the British.”

  Next, we hoist the cannons up using the cranes. There are eight total, each weighing around 1,000 pounds. That ends our day.

  Time for some chow on the deck. The sound system plays “Smoke on the Water.” Some of the crew decides to fish off the stern. I decide to relax with a drink and discuss the details about how we’ll raise the ship with the crane operators.

  “The ship is surprisingly intact.” I tell them. We discuss clearing some of the mud below the ship and stabilizing it underneath to begin the lift. Things start to slow down for the evening and we watch other ships go by in the bay. A tanker also passes by.

  “Hard work,” I yawn. “Well, I need to go call Kim and then turn in.”

  “Yeah, there’s a card game down the hall. See ya tomorrow.” Mark says.

  The next morning about ten divers, including Mark and I are suited and ready to go. The two crane ships are aligned opposite of each other almost directly over the wreck. A barge is set off to the side to slip under the wreck after it is raised from the water.

  All divers go into the water to clear debris from around and under the boat’s bottom and find sturdy parts to position the cables. We then attach cables from the crane and do a test lift of three feet and position a stabilizing beam underneath the ship.

  The water is fairly clear today with visibility at approximately 30 feet. Schools of fish continually swim by us. Every once in a while a jelly fish appears. Some are at least five to six feet long. We all steer clear of those as much as possible. But one floats over the deck of the shipwreck.

  We attach cables to either side of the beam to keep the ship from breaking up and raise it another three feet from the bottom. Then we attach settling cables to the ship to compensate for the strong current. I inspect the set-up further while the American Geographic diver commences his photographic magic. After I’m satisfied with the ship’s fortifications, I signal the cranes to begin the lift.

  The cranes commence. A shark swims over us, and I think of Ray. The boat’s side is covered in oysters and barnacles; not surprising.

  “She’s a beauty,” I tell myself. The boat continues to rise slowly in front of us. Another shark swims through it. We carefully nurse the lift and the divers each trade off in shifts for breaks.

  Once the lift has been started, it doesn’t stop. Finally, the boat breaks the water, dripping mud all around it. It has taken four hours. I feel closure. This boat has not seen daylight since approximately 1865. 150 years. It’s breath-taking. The photographer continues his shooting. We slowly slip the barge in underneath the boat and carefully lower it and tie it down, and stabilize the apparatus. We depart with our new trophy being towed by the head crane ship and head back to Norfolk.

  Mark and I sit at the stern of the ship watching our prize in the evening light. The photographer joins us.

  “Not bad for two day’s work,” the photographer remarks.

  “Yeah, I wish they were all this easy.” I remark.

  “You’re never bored, are you Matt?” Mark asks me.

  “What about you, Mr. Navy Seal?” I reply. “I’m certain you’ve seen a lot of action.”

  “Can’t talk about it. Sorry. But yeah. This is more fun. Thanks for sharing,” Mark replies.

  “Thanks for your contribution.”

  It’s an enjoyable trip back to Norfolk. We make it back by sunset. The platform of the barge is designed to be off loaded with the boat. Two small cranes in Norfolk will move the boat and its platform to a wide-load truck.

  I discuss the logistics with a rep from American Geographic. It requires a two-hour trip to a nearby maritime warehouse rented by the benefactors, American Geographic, The
National Museum and other maritime sponsors. The ship will eventually be prepared and exhibited in a local maritime museum by American Geographic first.

  I exchange cards with the photographer and discuss the boat in length. The photographer then takes pictures of the entire crew, Mark included.

  “Nice sunburn there, Matt. Should look great in the photo. I can see the shape of your diving mask.

  “Yeah, Kim isn’t going to be happy because we’re doing wedding party pictures this weekend.”

  “Good luck with that. How about we meet Monday, 8:30 at my office?” Mark asks. “We’ll get you read in and we can start my project.” “I’ll see you then.”

  I get into the van, and observe my sunburn in the mirror. Kim will read me the riot act. I make the traffic heavy trip back to D.C. Some things never change, I think. It’s a four hour drive with nothing but cars, trucks, roads, and trees. Beach traffic is heavy on the road with the onset of Memorial Day. Good time to head home, I tell myself. My cell rings and I see it’s Kim.

  “Hey, Kim. I was just about to call you...”

  “Hi, Matt. I know you’re still perky about your new triumph. I take it the ship is now in the harbor and you are on your way home?”

  “Yep, I’m leaving now...sunburn and all.”

  “Ohhh...how’re you going to look in the pictures?”

  “Colorful, my dear. Very colorful. It’s all in my face.”

  “You forgot your sunscreen, didn’t you? You still have to shave, Matt. You’re not getting out of it just because you’re sunburnt.”

  “Aw...Honey.”

  “Matt, it’s for our announcement. I want a formal announcement.”

  “It’s going to hurt...” I kid her.

  “Matt, I will smother you with Nair, if I have to.” She rules. I know I’m going to lose this one.

  “Alright...alright. I’ll shave. I’ll shave.”

  “Good...otherwise I will paint your toe nails red as well.”

  “Whoa, you are tough lady!”

  “Yes, I am. Love you Matt! Bye!”

  “Bye, Kim.”

  WELCOME TO THE PROJECT

  I arrive at Sigmas Solutions a little early in hopes of finding coffee. My wait is extended because Mark is holding a security meeting.

  I grab a newspaper and start reading the headlines and then skip to the sports section.

  “Matt, sorry for the wait. I see you shaved your beard there; you look quite colorful. I want to show you something.” We head to the little kitchen out cove, and I grab coffee and an apple. We head to Mark’s office and he pulls another folder out of a safe.

  “Wait till you see this. The location is still secret and I need to have you read in before I can tell you about that. You should find this interesting.” He hands me what I assess to be a map. I unfold it. I look it over and find the detail astonishing.

  “Well, this is unusual. Is this a...?” I pause. “It looks like a star chart in 3-D.”

  Mark laughs. I run my fingers over the images. The 3-D images become magnified like they’re in my face.

  “Whoa. This is like those other files.” I touch star system after star system and it magnifies each system with planets and satellites. I note the details of each and every planet in each system!

  “Have you shared any of this with NASA,” I ask. Mark doesn’t blink.

  “Oh, right. That’s probably classified as well.” I hold the map up, and point to the right, or left. I move my fingers up, or down and the range of star systems adjusts in the image to the orientation I give it.

  “Well...it seems to always display a chart of space currently oriented from this earth.” It extends for light-years in any direction.

  “Incredible, isn’t it?” Mark adds. “It definitely exceeds any technology we’ve been able to develop. Now you can see why we need to excavate. If there is anything at that crash site that other countries could get their hands on, it could be a threat to our national security.”

  I touch a planet. A voice begins talking. Sadly, the language is unintelligible.

  “Definitely not of this earth.” I say.

  “My best guess,” Mark interjects “is that it’s giving you the name of the system. Each time you touch a planet, the voice speaks again and is accompanied with text in an unidentified language.” We look at several worlds in different systems. Some have oceans that appear to be green and some red. A few have blue oceans like Earth. In one orientation of the star chart, red lines are seen protruding from a group of stars leading to our Earth. Two stars in close proximity to each other are highlighted.

  I notice that a red line, which appears to be a navigation path, is leaving the Earth’s orientation on the map going back to these two stars via five other star systems. As I run my finger along the red line leading back to this star system, the view becomes magnified and I’m able to see five planets in this particular solar system orbiting the two stars, with the smaller star orbiting the larger star.

  “Amazing!” The red line goes to the second planet orbiting this dual star system. The planet itself appears to be earth-like with blue oceans. This is as far and detailed as the map will let me go in solar observations. I’m overwhelmed. I can see continents, and on the night time side of the world it shows lights from what appears to be cities.

  “Look at this, Mark. From this world, the navigation chart exhibits other eight red lines, all plotted courses going in different directions from that world.” Each of the charted courses exhibits a type of writing, or notes, near the world from where it originates.

  “Must be navigational bearings, you think?”

  Mark’s phone rings. “Hello. Great Chief. We’ll be right over.”

  “That’s all I can share with you at this moment. Let’s head down to Security.” We head down a hallway to some stairs and go down two flights to what appears to be the basement. Mark opens an office door and introduces me to the Security Chief, “James Quinn.” He shakes my hand.

  “James, this is Matt Vaughan.”

  “Matt, we’ve been expecting you. I’ll need you to read and sign this.” I look the paper over and sign my life away like a credit card, and Mark begins to brief me.

  “The following encounter you are about to be briefed on was based on information also found in the file. We have reconstructed an earlier visit similar to the one documented by the Roswell and other supplementary files provided by my colleagues.

  Mark continues, “Twenty years ago, a Drug Enforcement agent was frantically trying to escape from a back country area of Peru. He had been sent in to assess possible sites for raids against cocaine manufacturing plants. His mission had been blown and the drug lords were waiting for him.”

  “Luckily, he managed to get out. He realized they would be watching the roads and towns waiting for him. So he took off through the back country, through jungles, around mountains, and through valleys. It took him two weeks to get through. When he was found, he had a fever of 105° F, and hadn’t the faintest idea of where he was. Somewhere along his wandering, he picked this up.”

  Mark shows me a picture of another stone in a type of containment unit. It looks like the egg shaped stone we discovered in our dig. Except the colors are different. The patches of color on this stone glow green and yellow. At this moment I am astonished that the stone our crew found is no longer unique. But I keep it to myself.

  “The Drug Enforcement agent recuperated, but he was unable not aware of his bearing as to where he had picked this stone up. He turned it in as something he thought had great monetary value, thinking the drug lords were willing to kill for it.”

  “From what we’ve been able to determine, this stone is a bio-generator.”

  “Wait a minute...What do you mean bio generator?”

  Mark continues, “We’re not sure exactly what it is, or how it operates yet. But this much can be said: it manufactures living organisms.”

  I shake my head, “Living organisms?”

  “We nev
er could find where it originated. It sat in a DEA evidence safe for 10 years until the stone began to emit a green gel. It became a very messy surprise to our people down there. They sent it up to our lab in Bowie to study it.”

  “Their analysis included checking its specific gravity, its pH, and other basic characteristics. It has the characteristics of a kind of an organic breathing plasma. They have ascertained that it literally leaches oxygen from the air around it. Further analysis has revealed living cells in plasma, similar to amoebas: they move about, but they develop differently. As the cells divide they get bigger: after 20 divisions we’ve had hydras and basic types of plankton. From those amoebas, we’ve grown small fish, insects and other life.”