Of Crimson Indigo: Samuel Nomad's NEW AMERICA

by Grant Fausey

  "We're ready, Thunder!" she roared into her headset microphone. The unique sparkle of the power grid formed within the canyon, stretching across the surface of the river in a rush along the sides of the rock face. The energy band reached the top, spanning the aperture to the threshold of the vortex. The gateway was unimpeded and ready for business.

  "Locking on," said Vex Redford.

  A shockwave emanated from the center of the waterfall, sending rippling of energy out across the river into the power grid on the other side. The energy wave arched across the threshold, alighting the night sky in sparkling rays that turned the night into day. The power grid was on line, illuminating the canyon in a surge of energized particles. The spiraling energy field intensified, filling with arching energy. Moving like lightning, the shock wave of electrical impulses opened into the vortex's time travel corridor, aligning the past with the future's present. "Thirty seconds!" cried Katrina. "Future wave corridor open. I'm picking up a second, second echo ... tracking."

  Vex Redford rotated his apparatus around until it was again facing the same direction as Katrina Malee. "Signature?" asked Redford. Katrina rotated, keeping a positive track on the objects being identified on her visor screens. "Still tracking," she bellowed. "It's definitely more than a double image. And it doesn't look like a tag along. I'm entering the triangle from the back door."

  Katrina's apparatus changed directions. "Fifteen seconds," shouted Vex Redford, howling across the room at her. "Come on!" he said.

  "I have a bearing..." she yelled, hollering back at him. "It's corporate, but I can't tell which generation. Could be a mark four or five."

  “THUNDER!" screamed Vex Redford. "You've a corporate tail, not just a Pteranodon. We're changing vectors!"

  "Power grid is destabilizing..." Katrina made the necessary adjustment, pivoting her apparatus into yet another position. "Forty five percent ... sixty two percent ... phasing." A large shockwave emanated from the center of the waterfall, illuminating the power grid with de energized electrical arcs.

  The entire system destabilized and vanished in less than a moment. Hansen's runner burst through the vortex, pursued by the flying beast and another vehicle. Both the beast and the corporate transport caught the runner's shock wave. The foliage shattered in the shock wave, rattling the surrounding wilderness like a house hit by a sonic boom. The vortex morphed and the tropical rainforest changed, reflecting the appearance of a treeless, desolate canyon. The power grid vaporized in the wake of the energy field. A third vehicle made its appearance, traveling through the vortex at its last moments of existence.

  Hansen moved like the wind, his fingers dashing across the controls pressing buttons, pushing levers, adjusting the throttles. His powerful legs pressed his feet hard against the foot pedals. Straining every pulsating muscle of his twenty-year old, square jaw quivering body from the pain of the reentry. Like all of his companions, he was a fine specimen of a young adulthood. His runner was of equal value ... strong, well built and a reflection of the dedication it took to construct it. Nevertheless everything was coming apart at the seams. Hansen was a true believer in the craft’s capabilities, even in delicate situations like this one.

  The ship rocketed across the corridor of distorted terrain, traversing the time corridor to the end. The gateway reassembled in a spinning funnel, exiting at the end of the travel tube. The terrain was complete in every detail filled with unexpected bends and curves, dips and rolls. Distortions altered the original picturesque world, blending it with the new matrix: Everything morphing into something unfamiliar, something across the vastness of the dimensional barriers. Hansen abruptly altered course. He had entered a new realm. Another future. The terrain before him stretched outward in a smear of reformation. "Where lost", cried Hansen. "Hang on!"

  The vortex corridor split with rings of intense light, forming the new matrix. The arrival point shattered and the runner emerged into a barren terrain. The craft jumped another zone, leaving behind the forest home of the Shangri La base. "Vectoring two ... one ... zero," Hansen managed to blurt out. "We're entering reversion."

  "Locking secondary destination," said Tiana Marie Taylor, a pretty young lady nearing her twenty-second birthday. Tiana was beautiful and refined. She had a good build. Not too thin, not too well endowed. Hansen thought she was just right. He glanced over at her, keeping his eyes on her. He had been watching her over the past year, but he'd never considered the possibilities. Perhaps it was time to change his mind.

  "Terminate transit fields," roared Hansen. But it was too late. They had already traveled too far and too fast. There was no way of knowing where, or when they were. Vex Redford's virtual reality apparatus swung around and slumped. Communications lost. The device continued to collect and process new information, but visibility was impossible. Mains established the essence of the new matrix.

  "Routing imaging to secondary destination," promulgated Vex Redford, talking to Katrina Malee.

  "Vectoring," answered Katrina solemnly. "Scanning for a transitional field position." She scanned the horizon for an inkling, but there was no signs of the runner. "Locking travel tube into identification mode. The grid is has been terminated!" "Stabilize," shouted Vex Redford. "I can't! I've lost them."

  "Compensate. Hurry!"

  "I've lost vector lock. We're destabilizing!" There was a long pause, then complete silence. "I've lost them!" said Katrina as she pulled her face away from the visor and looked across the room. "Routing for triangulation."

  "It's no use," moaned Vex Redford. "They've shifted dimensions again! They're on there own ... at least ... for the moment." Katrina agreed. Hansen's Thunder Runner burst out of the vortex, rocketing through the tight curves of the canyon somewhere in time, somewhere in another future. The time ship banked hard, staying close to the canyon wall. But the ship was not alone. The corporate runner, a starship with the markings of the Atarrell Corporation opened fire on them almost immediately, shooting long thin beams of laser energy aimed at the leader's cockpit. The flying reptile, still caught in the wake of the energy waves, leaped forward under the attack of the other machine. The ships where in a death race: Neck and neck with the Pteranodon, then out of the threshold of the vortex came the third runner. This one with the markings of the Hydaran Corporation; each of the machines maneuvered quickly, dodging each other’s laser bolts.

  The Atarrell runner slipped into the pocket, staying just slightly behind Hansen's runner and the Hydaran time ship. The ground rushed past at a furious pace, kicking up dust and debris as it came close to the ground. The Hydaran runner maneuvered forward, jockeying for position. The pilot, a young woman, stayed cool, remaining in perfect control of her craft. She banked hard, tipping her ship on its side. The machine traveled fast and hard. The terrain crossed the realms of the visible, staying locked up in her heads up display. Information flashed across the screens at an incredible rate.

  "Atarrell Corporate," said the pilot, surprised as she looked back over her shoulder. "Where did you come from?" Hansen's runner banked also, taking a course along the curve of another bend in the canyon. Hansen was just staying in the lead. The Atarrell runner was right behind him. The ship hugged the ground, staying close and fast to the Hydaran runner. The copilot adjusted the heads up display, keeping the intruder in her visor. A computer representation of the terrain filled the screen in an overlay. Hansen looked back, keeping a tight watch on the corporate runner at his side. He pushed the throttles forward, accelerating his runner through the turn at an even higher speed.

  WARNING light flashed at the bottom of the graphic in his helmet, displaying the narrowing corridor approaching him along the course of his flight path. The speed indicator reached more than 1000 kilometers per hour. This was as fast as he had ever taken his Thunder Runner. The Atarrell ship maneuvered to take the place of the Hydaran, making the transition in a slick jockeying move that put it in front of the flying reptile. The shock wave shattered the hold on the beast, thrusting it free. T
he pilot screamed: Her controls useless as the big beast struck her in the cockpit! Her controls were lost and her ship went out of control. It screamed sideways, impacting the Hydaran corporate runner with a force that could have carved its initials into the side of the cockpit. The side of the ship slammed inward, pressing the curve of the metal surface in upon the driver.

  The Hydaran Corporate runner struck the side of the cliff, crumbling into a smearing fireball, while the other ships rocketed onward following the course of the riverbed through the mouth of the canyon. The two ships banked hard to the right, taking a new course along the northern rim. They were out of the canyon and crossing the desert plains. Hansen's runner was still in the lead, accelerating out of a turn at full afterburners, when both vehicle shot across the terrain at break neck speed.

  Hansen's fingers stayed glued to his controls. "Come on baby, push it,” he cursed under his breath. "Don't let me down now!" He looked over his shoulder, back at Hudson in the rear of the compartment.

  "Hudson!" he screamed. "Get this thing off my tail, will you?" Hansen's runner slipped under the corporate ship, pushing forward. Tiana gripped Hansen hand, helping him throttled up, angling the ship with the curve of the surface ahead. The Atarrell runner became visible under the floor canopy. It's long streams of exhaust visible slightly behind Hansen's time ship. In an upheaval of dust and debris, both time ships came from the horizon, racing toward the opposite side of the desert plains. A trailing sonic boom marked the ship's acceleration and, a moment later, both ships hit the straightaway between giant pillars of stone. Hansen's runner buffeted, traveling just above the sweeping terrain. The runner dipped then rocketed skyward away from the ground. The surface changed. The instruments pegged to the limits of their eligibilities, dancing with colored lights, racing incessantly across the faceplate on Hudson's helmet. The computer generated reproduction locked up on the screen, identifying the relationship of position to the ground, in relation to the trailing target. They were close real close and getting closer.

  The corporate runner floated above them, pressing down on Hansen's runner, keeping them close to the ground. The pilot's seat powered up, locking the automatic ejection units. Suddenly the view went cloudy. The terrain vanished. From the cockpit, Hansen's runner barely had a few feet clearance. The surface pitted against rock and desert. Hansen pitched the ship and again throttled up, banked to miss another rock formation.

  Hudson opened fire.

  Hansen pitched the ship again. This time into a sharp angle that narrowly missing the rock formation. The laser bolts struck the wing tip, crippling the Atarrell corporate runner. The craft cartwheeled toward the ground. The pilot screamed. The ground flew up, striking the cockpit, bridging the distance between the runner and the surface in the flash of whipping wingtips and engine pods, crumbling into a fiery crash. The cockpit sailed away from the rest of the runner, propelled by the fireball explosion and trailing debris that filled with dense, black smoke. The cockpit impacted the rock formation, collapsing into a shredded mass of metal.

  Hansen's ship rocketed past, circling back as it climbed skyward against. Everyone okay?" asked Hansen screaming back at his crew.

  "Taylor ... Travis? How about you, Good shooting Hudson? That was real good shooting!"

  "Yeah," said Tiana answering his plea to hear everyone's voices. "We're all okay, Skipper."

  "Yeah..." said Hudson, breathing a sighed of relief. He let go of the handgrips and removed his helmet. "I'm still here."

  "Great," said Hansen. Travis Kyle leaned forward, looking up toward the cockpit. "We're a little beat up back here, but I think we'll make it, Skipper." Hansen grinned, turning the ship back to a straight course. "Okay," he said. "Plot us a return course. Back to the vortex, will you Tatiana?"

  Tatiana smiled. It was the first time Hansen had ever called her by her full name. "Any idea of where or when we are, Skipper?" she asked with a sigh of relief.

  "Not a clue!" answered Hansen bluntly. "That's what I keep you around for darling. I just push the buttons, that's all." Tiana laughed and the runner rocketed across the terrain, heading back the way it came. At the crash site, badly injured, the corporate co pilot crawled out of the cockpit wreckage, pulling herself away from the fiery remains of the Atarrell time ship. Hansen's runner rocketed across the background, passing overhead as the pilot collapsed face down in the desert sand. The shadow of the Pteranodon passed over her at almost the same time. Its screech blotted out most of the sound; only the rumble of burning rubble remained.

  – 4 –

  THE NEW CORPORATE RAIDERS

  • • •

  THE THIRD UNIVERSE

  THIRD DIMENSION

  The corporate headquarters of the Hydaran Corporation hovered above the ground like a floating city. The complex was huge, almost foreboding. An enormous superstructure surrounded it on all sides, forming the landing platform and terminal buildings of what many Alpha Renetteans referred to as the mothership. In truth it was just that, a gigantic starship measuring nearly a kilometer in diameter. The main body of the structure served as the Earth based headquarters for the Hydaran's planetary corporate offices. The structure was a hovering spaceport, coupled together by dozens of smaller platforms, and docked solar cruisers, heavy transport, warships and their support facilities. The conglomeration resembled a sort of compressed contrivance, a gadget ready and waiting to be released back into the sky. Along the ground, carved into the thick metallic rock, etched into the formations read:

  HYDARAN CORPORATION WORLD HEADQUARTERS EARTH

  The words graced the surface in highly polished groves, each letter of the logo centered in the magnificent otherworldly stone. Inside, the complex was dark and musty, filled with a low fog that skirted the ground floor. The atmosphere hovered just a meter above the turtle shell shaped floor. The place was the heart and soul of an alien operations center; better know to the corporate types as the JUMP ROOM. Even Earth Corporate had such a room, although it was just a well-kept secret.

  A large floating holographic representation of the Earth floated in the center, suspended above a circular platform with inset monitoring stations and hundreds of personnel: Each individual busy tracking operations, some in progress across the globe others in approach or departure from one of the dozen orbital space stations. These were the watchdogs of an alien race, hell-bent on the preservation of their own above everything else.

  A light signifying the destruction of the corporate runner flashed then went dim. Finally, the illumination flickered out of existence all together. The chamber fell silent and cold: A dismal greeting of an inhuman humanity. The holographic imaging system overlaid the huge representation of the Earth, showing the arrival and departures of a very specific spacecraft. An SCA passenger transport, a small cargo ship destined for another time zone shifted dimensions, fated for rendezvous in an alternate futures. The coordinates of the lone transport flashed identification markings charting its course across the top of the globe, detailing a particular destination –– New America.

  Opposite the position, another light flashed, this one dimming out of existence. The controller, Jura Bottoms, Controller 1288, overseeing everything from submarines to spacecraft; from automobiles to star buses orbiting the Earth made an adjustment to the system. Jura Bottoms was one of the small, grey-faced individuals at the top of the structure, turned to the station manager and said: "Controller, one ... two ... eight ... eight. I've a quick reaction message on the Hydaran jumper at twenty-two ninety-four. Contact terminated at zero seven thirty, nominal."

  The station manager looked over at Jura Bottoms. The tiny grey man had lost contact with the same Hydaran time jumper that Hansen and his crew had encountered. A mass of computerized apparatus wielded down toward Jura Bottoms 1288, gliding along a circular path across the large image of the Earth. The device hovered next to the representation, staying in synchronous orbit where the Hydaran runner made its last jump. It's three eyes lit up and its mechanical mou
th opened and closed like the lid of a garbage can.

  "Dispatch a recovery unit, twelve eighty-eight," the device choked, mocking the movements of the operator. "It seems we've another dogfight on our hands. Independent runner recorded at zero two zero, breaking the time barrier at twenty-two ten, nominal. Number of survivors, unknown." The machine hesitated then spoke coldly to twelve eighty-eight. "Contact the Corporate Liaison Office for reassignment," he said bluntly. The fate of the pilot and the mission had been decided. There would be no recovery operation.

  Samuel Nomad's shuttle streaked across the heavens, destined for New America. A huge inter-dimensional apparatus filled the skies above this new Earth. Its spiraling core turned on a centrifuge of conduits, meshed together into an orbiting platform of three living areas. The first housed many of the Alpha Renetta in transit. The second the rim runners, scoundrels and villains looking for a quick buck. The third was a virtual paradise for the elites. It was simply beauty among the stars. "Control over to you," announced the synthesized dialect of the communications array.

  "Orbital approach approved."

  "Thank you," acknowledged Matthew Johnson. The shuttle vanished into a maze of interwoven transit fields, obscured in the vast ocean of stars, moving vehicles, cities, towns, forests and lengthy rivers.

  Samuel Nomad stepped off the shuttle and walked swiftly across the courtyard of a beautifully decorated living structure. He stopped at the entrance, looking to both sides before he depressed the keypad at the side of the stained glass double doors. A buzzer sang out, acknowledging his presents.

  "Yes," said a voice at the door, echoing from a hidden speaker.

  "Samuel Nomad," answered the young man. "… To see professor Brennan."

  "I see," said the voice at the door. "Can you stand back a little please?"

  Samuel Nomad nodded and stepped back from the doorway. He felt his body tingle. He had stepped into a matter transmitter. A gateway formed around him, scattering his molecules. His body ached for a moment then reassembled on another plane of existence. "Welcome to the fourth dimension," said the voice.