The Sword of Gabriel: Ten Days on Earth

by Tom Holloway

  Chapter 2

  Saber Reconnaissance Flight

  I am always awed by the sparkling colors of Earth’s bright sun; although ninety-three million miles away, it provides a bounty of sunrays hitting the top of the atmosphere: golden, magical, and breathtaking. The sun’s rays sparkle with a full spectrum of incredible colors outlined by the background of outer space’s total blackness, with the sparkling pin lights of millions of stars in the unlimited vastness. The sunrise is spectacular; my view from this starship is amazing, a miracle that I have missed deeply.

  Still moving supersonic, I am looking down again as I nose-dive toward the many clouds below, seeing brilliant flashes of the Atlantic Ocean’s blue water underneath. The billowing white clouds of moisture are awesome. At this loft, seeing Earth from above, observing the golden reflections of the sun’s light shimmering off the many cloud surfaces, sometimes almost a blinding brightness, you can see the flowing currents visible when watching the clouds, like seeing rivers of ocean air. It’s so dramatic to grasp both the power and the velocity of these massive movements of air as the atmosphere and clouds flow across Earth’s surface. Some of these vast jet streams of air are powerful, approaching three hundred miles an hour.

  I drop fast, pull up, and then level out about fifty miles above the surface. The air is thin and cold, yet there’s more of it, and I’ve dropped my velocity to twenty-five thousand miles per hour to keep within a moderate turbulence level. I’m at a good place, where the heavy-air atmosphere starts to end and the lighter air of outer space begins, which is about sixty two miles up, the point where the speed of the ship hitting the air creates no lift, not that much friction, and less turbulence from the air pressure. Currents of air moving fast crosswise also increase the turmoil of atmosphere below this point. To reduce the concussion and the rough ride as I accelerate, I climb back to an elevation of sixty-eight miles, and then increase my speed to fifty thousand miles per hour, more than what I need to orbit. No question, the atmosphere below is perfect for the Saber’s flights, sailing through an ocean of air, so like the sea, with currents and temperature variations similar to any large body of water.

  I circle the planet, covering the twenty-five thousand miles in about thirty minutes, then drop speed severely to fly lower, under any military detection, at about five hundred feet off the surface of the Atlantic Ocean in the Southern Hemisphere. Dropping speed fast, I’m moving at six thousand miles per hour, close to Mach ten at ground speed, traveling northwest. Still at this speed, and with the heavier air due to the low altitude, I’m feeling much wind velocity and even more turbulence. I’m kicking up a lot of ocean behind me. Looking back, I figure my exhaust tail is at least a couple hundred miles long, maybe five to six miles wide. The speed and the tail blast of the fusion mega-heated air, temperatures close to thirty thousand degrees, is vaporizing billions of tons of water behind me, the blast trail looking like hurricane-powered clouds. This air is thrusting up, maybe a three thousand feet high, caused by hot steam, moving fast, like billowing white clouds from a volcano blast. This is surprising to see, even for me. Other eyes see it, too, I am sure.

  There is always some military satellite surveillance, eyes from above. Not surprising, as there are so many satellites spinning around Earth I have to be careful not to hit them. Many different countries and private companies put them up there for many different purposes: communications, GPS navigation, military, surveillance, entertainment. They clutter up the higher atmosphere. They detect me on every trip back here. I can process the pings when they see me, as they try to zoom in for better focus; it’s impossible to avoid them. Not all of them are surveillance. Some are much more dangerous to me. They aren’t just harmless satellites. They’re armed. Actually they’re missile platforms, really scary, not good things for all those below. Doubtful if too many on Earth know about these weapons, probably just the leaders of the larger countries. The satellites are probably ultra top secret; it’s awful to think they might be used against human populations.

  I’m sure the surveillance satellites detected me when I first came into orbit. I’m sure more than a few nations or their governments know I’m already back, an alien unidentified flying object. They’re maybe wondering if this is the one that’s been here before. It is always hard to hide my being here. In the past I was always gone before they could figure out how to find me. I know it excites the hell out of them, yet it is my time to be here, and maybe it’s for the overall good. I figure it gives them the opportunity to think about the big picture. A few scientists should be starting to figure out there is much more than Earth’s population in this massive universe. This civilization is just one of many thousands.

  I’m now running slowly at a critically low altitude of only two hundred feet, and then drop the speed to a drift mode, about seven hundred miles an hour, still over Mach one, yet my lowest speed before a stall. I am still over the Atlantic Ocean heading southwest toward South America. Then, before I can change course, I’m suddenly up close next to a huge ocean liner. I knew it was there and had wanted to see it, slowing down for it, just not this close. It’s a vacation passenger ship heading due west. It’s not much past dawn; unfortunately there are still a few passengers on deck, spotting me as I veer portside, rocking the big ship even with my slower speed, as I’m still pushing a lot of air, creating booming supersonic shock waves. The resulting air mass hits the ocean liner. It is much louder than any military jet on Earth. I’m just too close to them. I can see the passengers, even barely make out their faces and big eyes, shocked to see something they’ve never seen and never will see again—a brief glimpse at a real alien starship moving very fast and close. They can feel the heat off the fusion rockets plus see the blistering exhaust trail stretching for miles behind me. This is foolish on my part; any closer and my exhaust tail could hurt them. I’m lucky to veer away just in time. I immediately bank and accelerate straight up to an altitude of forty-five thousand feet and then slowly drop down, leveling off at fifteen thousand feet.

  This ride is sheer joy for me as the Saber blasts over the Earth. On these trips I always play all kinds of Earth music, maybe rock or classical depending on the need or my mood. It calms me and enhances my senses. It also clarifies this event in my mind, something to remember in the long years ahead. When I’m listening to the Rolling Stones, their blasting away matches the excitement of the moment. The Saber is shooting through Earth’s upper air at twenty-five times the speed of a bullet, invisible to the naked human eye, except for the fire tail. The thrill of exploding through the top of Earth’s atmosphere accelerating at mega hypersonic speeds fits the momentum of a first-class rock band, my ride a true partner of rock and roll. The Boston Symphony Orchestra is also good, as the power of an orchestra is remarkable. Without question, music is the lifeblood of the drama of life.

  In these Earth visits, I reclaim my soul. Every time I restore my ability to stay human. The planet and people are extraordinary, beyond any other world in the universe; no place feels this good to me. This is my home, always feels right, and a wonderful gift from God. As I fly over this magnificence, observing from this height, I can see the colors everywhere, and all are extraordinary, the splendor coming from everything: the golden horizon, the bright-blue skies, white clouds, the deep blue-green ocean, rich tan sandy beaches, undulating hills with light-green grassy fields, emerald-green forests, towering majestic mountains with white snow tips, dark-green valleys and winding blue-white rivers, dark-green lakes, massive brown plains. Even better, there is the colorful patchwork of thousands of square or rectangular fenced fields, snug farmhouses, easy to see during the day. Then impressive cities spring up with high-rise skyscrapers and miles of roads.

  Then at night, a total changed appearance, still amazing to see, looking down at the busy high-rise cities with millions of bright lights coming from thousands of glittering structures. As you expand your view, you can see more lights coming from millions of homes spread out for miles around t
he cities, interrupted by the lighted crisscross roads, connected to the interstate highways with lights flowing like hot lava from a volcano, caused by the headlights from thousands of moving cars.

  Then, best of all, the cause of all of it, at every sunrise, the supreme gift from God, the radiant light coming from Earth’s sun, with the nurturing warmth of a sun giving life. The abundance of energy, delivered just perfectly, not too much nor too little. Just wonderful. To feel it once more is a luxury, and I have been looking forward to this moment for ten years.

  All of it is pleasing! The ten years between visits is tough, a long time gone, hard to keep my sanity. Finally I am home.

  As the Saber covers the surface quickly, I again drop to a lower altitude and also try to avoid damaging the surface buildings with hypersonic air shock. I am at five thousand feet off the surface, moving slowly for the Saber at three thousand miles an hour, as high as feasible to avoid damaging Earth’s structures. I want to see everything, especially any changes or, maybe more critical, possible issues for me. I see random passenger airplanes and a few military jets, ocean ships, and more. Maybe some spot me, and they may even be wondering about me. However, there’s no real issue, as I am moving too fast for them to get a photo of me or even to see the Saber clearly. It probably adds to the excitement of the day for these Earth men (and Earth women) to see a possible alien ship.

  I miss Earth men and women, the beings on this planet. I especially miss my father and mother. If only I could see them again. It’s impossible not to think of my family and friends when I make these return visits. Most are dead.

  Maybe this trip will be even better than visits in the past. Just the idea of this one excites me. Even the scent of everything on Earth is awesome. My sense of smell is more acute now, much better with my recent rebirth. Yes, I love the Earth smells: sizzling steak, baking bread, pizza, hot dogs, wildflowers, newly mowed grass, fertile soil after a light rain, apple trees, pine trees, honeysuckle, mountain air, the ocean breeze, leather, horses, dogs, hot coffee…even the scent of humans.

  Just having natural air with the right mix of oxygen and moisture is good, so satisfying, rewarding to my lungs and energy levels. To inhale the air here is a pleasure. Earth air is just right—refreshing and sweet, like a cool drink on a real hot day. Then the feel of all of it, always the right air pressure against your skin and the delight of a cool breeze on a hot day. Yes, to be a human again on Earth! Just the expectation of seeing it all again and remembering it when it’s gone. In all the past years, it has kept me going, knowing I’m coming back. It’s too bad there’s never enough time when I’m here. As usual, I must quickly see and do as much as possible. I’m wasting time. I need to get back to the Cyclone and begin the real visit.

  The Atlantic Ocean is a big sea with plenty of room for many ships, including one large liner traveling at wake speed, coming from London with a heading of due west, now close to the Caribbean island of Antigua. It’s unfortunately in the same parallel path as the Saber’s, the air concussion of the backwash causing the ship to shift, moving it off course and leaning it over about ten degrees, its tail wash veiling the ship with hot cloudlike water vapor, this thick spray misting all passengers on the deck. Henry’s flyby makes quite an impression.

  John and Molly are two of those passengers on the upper deck of the magnificent Queen Mary, a massive ship that’s like a traveling city. This is their first vacation cruise, and they’re up early to catch every minute. Now both of them are astonished. It’s impossible to imagine the impact to the huge ship; John and Molly hear and see it before they feel it. They hear the rumbling, almost a roaring sound like massive rolling thunder, powerful, coming from a long way off, and they know something is coming fast up close to them. Then there are massive sonic booms, causing their eardrums to vibrate painfully. John catches a glance of something in the distance, something black and massive; he’s not sure what it was. He thinks it looks like some kind of extreme experimental military jet as it blasts by the ship, causing a horrific supersonic windblast, rocking the huge ship sideways, so loud it hurts their ears, and then the fiery heat from the jet engines, the hot vapor, hitting the liner with a massive air shock concussion.

  John holds on to Molly as she almost falls. He grabs the handrail but keeps his eyes on the aircraft. It’s totally weird-looking. It’s big, long, and mirror black, with a bladed spear nose not like anything he’s ever seen. It’s traveling fast, like supersonic fast. He has just a brief glimpse as it passes. He has never seen anything like it; it’s extraordinary, huge, and definitely military. Another odd thing, it also looks alien, not of this Earth, real scary. John feels the hair rise on the back of his neck and then fear, real cutting fear, his stomach starting to react, getting sick. He wonders if Molly or anyone else sees it. Others have to see it, too. This is shocking, once in a lifetime…It couldn’t be just him seeing it.

  The captain and crew see it for a brief moment and catch vague radar shadows of it. They are alarmed, yet it happens so fast they cannot react, then it is gone, whatever it is, probably some experimental military jet. They will report it. They wonder about it, and then they conclude it’s one of the mysteries of being out at sea.

  Later, at the end of the day, Chicago Tribune editor Bill Simkins is at his desk trying to decide how to run a story about a huge meteorite almost hitting Earth or maybe a possible UFO. There have been sightings reported all over the world, the massive bright light in the night sky moving really fast, barely missing Earth. Hundreds of phone calls to the police and military. Then there are the hundreds of videos all showing this bright stream of light scorching across the heavens, actually lighting up the Earth for thousands of miles, just like the sun.

  Then there is a report from a cruise-ship captain of a definite sighting of a UFO; passengers say they saw an alien spaceship that came close to hitting them. Not inconceivable, as it about knocked the ship over from the air concussion alone and lots of heated vapor. Could this have been some military jet? Not as it’s described.

  The question is, is all this worth including on the front page of today’s edition? Maybe. It was real weird; never happened before. For about three minutes, it was bright daylight, the night just evaporating over most of the United States and a good part of the Atlantic Ocean. The official statement by the US spokesman, John Jacobs, head of Section 58, is that it was not one of ours or any aircraft we know about. He suggests it was a meteorite, bigger than most, and it burned up with no Earth hit.

  However, there were some guys with amateur telescopes, and more than one is saying no way it was a natural phenomenon. It was not a meteorite or anything like it. It was a UFO.

  They all agree. It is impossible to explain the velocity and trajectory of this object, as whatever it was hit us twice, first time moving at an incredible speed, too fast to calculate. Then, about forty minutes later it hit again, traveling not as fast, running parallel with Earth’s surface. Then it continued orbiting at about sixty miles above the surface. It was big, large enough to create enough friction to light up the sky for hundreds of miles, finally slowing down to about twenty thousand miles an hour. Then it disappeared, just vanished. Millions of people saw the light. No meteorite does this. We have no idea what it was, maybe just another ghost spaceship checking Earth out.

  Maybe run a small headline on the front page then again as a science feature on the fifth page, just in case another news group runs it, too. It’s probably nothing, Simkins thinks.

  The Saber feels good and sounds good, humming the right tone, the thrust stream perfect. I’m now over South America heading northwest, running about five thousand miles per hour at fifteen thousand feet, looking around some, seeing more mountains, valleys, and vast prairies. Hard to think there might be military craft here, as I’m going too fast for them to catch me. They’re trying to see me, too, but it’s not easy although I am leaving a sizable heat signature, as the Saber’s fusion burners are always real hot. As I come up to the Pacific coa
st, I decide to follow the shoreline.

  Then, out of nowhere, I pick up the signals of three F-16s that have come off of a US aircraft carrier about four hundred miles west of my heading, and they’re coming my way, which is an issue. The aircraft are flying toward an interception point on my flight path to the United States. I decide to bank east bearing forty-five degrees crossing over Mexico, then the US border—drop to a much lower altitude of about three thousand feet, running slow at about two thousand miles an hour, ground speed, mostly over desert, partially in stealth mode. There’s good chance they can see my hot fire tail behind me. I hear radio frequencies as my communications tracker picks up the pilots’ conversations with an overhead AWACS surveillance aircraft about thirty-five thousand feet up, a hundred miles portside, due northwest. It’s the one that was tracking me.

  The F-16s are coming up behind me with all they have to burn, fast as they can, desperately trying to catch me. No plane on Earth is much faster than three to four thousand miles per hour. The F-16s’ top speed is about 1,200 miles per hour, and they cannot catch me unless I let them. I decide to do just that, as it gives me a chance to look them over, satisfy my curiosity. After our meeting I’ll head out, rocket straight up into outer space. It will be impossible for them to follow me. Plus, I’ll be moving faster than they can see, going mega hypersonic. Escaping Earth’s gravity requires a velocity of 25,800 miles an hour, impossible for any military jet on Earth.

  The three fighters catch up to about four hundred feet behind me. We’re all at the same elevation. I hear them clearly on their radio frequency as they start to panic. They’re not sure what to do, requesting direction from their command center. They keep coming closer, only two hundred feet away.