by Tom Holloway
As we are climbing up to the Cyclone on the ship’s tender I am also recalling the memories of the day. I have one strong specific memory of the meeting, not a good one, an event that happened afterward that I am not sure I should follow up on. I do not tell Anna. She would not be happy.
I think I even might have gone too far. Some human emotions are fire starters. The emotions of jealousy, male testosterone rage, and the matching adrenaline rush are totally new. The only person I looked at when leaving the pub was James Algeir. I know he gave Anna a hard time when I was occupied with the group. I could hear his thoughts and Anna’s, too, as he belittled her new boyfriend, then asked her if she’s just plain stupid. He was almost physical with her, yet he restrained himself, looking over my way to see if I was watching. He threatened that he would ruin her career and tell the tabloids about their sex life, and he had photos. She warned him that he was in way over his head and to shut his mouth fast for his own good, then walked away. It triggered me. I could not help it.
When we left I made sure James Algeir could feel my anger in his head as I stared at him, probed his brain, scorched his mind with my rage, threatened his sanity and life. As Anna and I had walked through the pub’s door, him staring back at me, our eyes had locked, which caused him to urinate, his eyes becoming frantic, and hands trembling, as he is not too sure of his sanity, feeling totally horrified. I also told him we would meet again; to his shock he heard my words in his brain, felt the painful probe. I left him with the slip in his brain. I hope we meet again.
Chapter 27
Day Seven
Anna is up, drinking my Earth coffee from a sealed cup, secured to the wall using one foot behind a handle, as there is no gravity. She is adapting quickly, smart girl. I also know she is happy; I feel it. Last night went well; the movie premiere was a huge success according to all the morning newspapers. Anna checked most of them and has already talked to her staff. Nothing was said about my meeting with the group, although there were lots of photos of Anna. She also had called her mother and sister last night, as we orbited Earth on the Cyclone. We both worked out in the little gym early this morning; it felt good for both of us. We ate a meal I prepared, my Spanish omelet, which I think I invented. It has everything in it, plus the kitchen sink.
I remind Anna we are taking the Saber to LA this morning; she will have a chance to pilot it, too. She looks at me with wide eyes, some fear, yet excited, and says, “It scares the hell out of me just thinking about it. Although I think I’m completely irrational, flying a supersonic military rocket ship sounds like fun, while I must be crazy to do it. My problem is I think I would follow you to hell and back, and I hope I’m ready for this climb-the-mountain adventure. Let’s do it. Although, Henry, please remember this is my first time for this kind of thing; don’t let it kill me!”
The Saber is mega-advanced technology. Actually I only half know what it’s fully capable of. For one thing, although I did not tell Anna this, as she will soon find out, it does not need her or me to pilot it. It is completely controlled by its own brains, a thought process way beyond me, with its own survival skills. It is a being with an opinion, like a living, breathing predator, like riding a living thing linked to your brain. Although I am the captain, I am not sure who controls whom; it’s like riding a tiger. You live in the moment, only a partner in the adventure. Yet I truly love this craft. It is more than a friend, and it is the ultimate thrill.
I have loaded it with my favorite music, telepathically linked to my brain and now Anna’s. When traveling fast or in combat, I love the Rolling Stones blasting away—calms the nerves. As a military attack ship, it is well armed, and it can kill almost anything in its way; in my many previous battles, it has always prevailed. At times it has scared the hell out of me. It uses directed-energy weapons: fusion high-temperature streams (sixty-five thousand degrees), particle beam shots, long-distance intelligent drone nuclear rockets traveling at light speed, massive electromagnetic area radiation, heavy-gravity force fields, and forty-eight individual extreme laser cutters used as strobe rapid-fire weapons.
The Saber has my own additions, too. I installed old-fashioned P-51 Mustang “stick between the legs” controls for the pilot and the copilot, strictly for the fun of it. At the speed this thing goes, it is impossible for a human to control it; you have only microfractions of time for steering adjustments, and it’s just not possible with slower human reflexes. The Saber’s intelligence, or the ship’s brainpower processors, control the ship at high speeds, following my directions. Megasupersonic speeds are too fast for even my reflexes; by the time I reacted to the visuals, we would be dead. Even though the Saber pilots without me, it reacts to my thoughts telepathically with one exception: it lets me drive up to ten thousand miles per hour or at any lower speed, as I can handle the lower velocity, and I use the pilot stick. It can raise the hair on your neck, as it is terrifying to watch the ground flash by during low-altitude runs, just a blur, and also more thrilling than any roller-coaster ride.
The Cyclone is now orbiting above Earth at a high altitude, running twenty thousand miles per hour, just barely into outer space, about 135 miles up, over a bright-blue Earth sky, as it’s now early morning and mostly good weather. Earth is below in all its splendor: blue oceans, green and brown continents, mountains, and white billowing clouds. We are over Canada, just entering, now over the border, heading due west, having just passed over the North Atlantic Ocean. It was dark blue and frothing with large swells due to heavy winds on the surface.
Anna and I pull ourselves into the Saber’s big, comfortable captain’s chairs and strap in well. I check Anna’s straps, and while leaning over her I surprise her with a forehead kiss to reassure her. She nervously smiles at me and says she is ready, although I see the fear in her eyes, and her scent is thick with adrenaline. The ship is ready to go, all hatches closed, fueled up, fully armed, navigation in place.
I open the Cyclone’s outside doors, causing some thin, cold wind to rush up into the hangar bay, as we are too high for much atmosphere. I trigger the Saber’s release, the locks disengage, and the Cyclone drops the Saber out of its underbelly down toward Earth. We are free-falling with the gravity, no power, dropping for three or four minutes, sinking down into Earth’s atmosphere, gaining momentum as we plunge. We say nothing; just enjoy the spell of this magic, viewing Earth from this elevation, completely silent. Then we hit the top layers of Earth’s atmosphere, the sound of more wind, a little bouncing with the turbulence and moving at a speed of nineteen thousand miles per hour.
I can hear Anna’s thoughts as she projects to me: It is impossible not to believe in God when you see this. Henry, it is beyond belief. The Earth’s horizon with the reflection of the sun off the atmosphere is magnificent, all golden and just magical. Then looking beyond into black unending space, we are so insignificant. Yet I feel connected, like I have purpose, part of God’s plan. When I am looking down at Earth, I feel comforted, our Mother Earth as far as I can see, a land full of colors, with the deep greens of the massive forests, the blue rivers, gray mountains covered in white snow, then the massive dark-blue oceans below the snow-white billowing clouds, and the world spinning around. It is truly splendid and beautiful, a gift from God.
Anna pauses, looks at me. “Henry, you are a wonderful man, thank you for this.”
I smile, and she blushes as she feels my answer, as I am thinking about her—another blessing from God.
We are still plummeting in complete silence, no engine thrust or sound. We hear only the concussion of rushing wind against the hull, getting louder as we drop deeper into Earth’s atmosphere. There are many colors of dazzling light around us because of the air friction against the hull. It slows us down; the air around us is getting hot, reducing our speed from nineteen thousand miles an hour to ten thousand—still swift, about thirteen times the speed of sound or a Mach 13. The speed of sound is around 760 miles per hour, depending on the density of the air. The silence is gone, replace
d by the thunderous noise of the air hitting us hard.
Anna is all eyes, really excited, looking at Earth below, then she looks at me like a kid, smiles a big smile, and does a thumbs-up as we drop. Then I smile and do a thumbs-up back, also excited.
It is time.
I ignite the rocket fusion burners, pure nuclear power, really hot, much advanced over anything seen by Earth scientists. It growls for a couple of seconds then explodes like a massive thunderbolt. We make a massive jolt forward, surging with the blast then surging again, pinned into the seats, exploding thirty miles forward by a huge fired blast tail behind us, now under full power, thrusting forward, both of us pressed against the seats. Then, with perfect timing, the Rolling Stones booms out, and Anna looks at me laughing. We have dropped down over the dark-blue Atlantic Ocean blasting east, the wrong way, away from Los Angeles.
I telepathically tell Anna we’re going the long way—around the world. She nods her head, and I feel her excitement. We’re going to go around Earth, first over England, heading across Europe and China, then over the Pacific. We will be there in Los Angeles in about two hours, as we are taking it slow, the scenic route at low altitudes. I take the Saber down low, mostly under radar, still running at ten thousand miles an hour, real low at just two hundred feet above the ocean. The sensation of speed at this low altitude is incredible, plenty of turbulence and wind—like riding a comet, bouncing with the airstream. The water below is coming so fast under us, it’s a blur, and the Saber is booming out massive shock waves.
We blast out, surging forward, pressed hard back against the seats, with thirty-nine thousand degrees of heat blasting out the rocket burners behind us, causing more massive turbulence as it whips up a huge mass of frothing water for a hundred miles back, a tail that is three hundred feet higher than sea level, almost like a circular typhoon, part steam, part wind velocity. It’s amazing to see, even for me.
I am sure the world is seeing us by satellite and radar, maybe a few ships here and there, since we’re hard to miss. I just don’t care at this point, as I am living day by day, wanting to give Anna a thrill. I know no one can figure it out anyway, as the speed is faster than anything Earth has seen, much faster than a bullet and not easy to visibly make out. I am also making sure I am staying out of cargo-ship routes. I know there will be some sightings, and the Saber will create some excitement when spotted in that one split second as we blast by anyone out there. The front hull is hot too, as the friction is on fire.
We are over England, and I’m putting on the brakes as much as possible, coming down to three thousand miles an hour. We can’t see much of the scenery, as we are moving too fast for the human eye and too close to the surface to see much, so I climb to 4,800 feet, still dangerously low, and I ask the Saber to watch for other air traffic. We can see the countryside now, charming villages, curving roads and cars, lush green forests, streams and pastures. Anna is taking it all in, moving with the music of the Rolling Stones, and definitely having fun.
The Saber is not in stealth mode and has a serious tail blast. I am concerned about radar or satellite scans, as we are not invisible to Earth’s technology. Although, more important, I just don’t want to hit another aircraft, nor am I interested in a missile chasing us. Unfortunately we are also letting out some sonic booms and shaking some windows, making it unwise to accelerate without climbing. We see rolling farm fields, green and lush, and small villages here and there; and then, in about a second, we cross over London at ten thousand feet up. I hit the gas, running eight thousand miles an hour, and take a sharp climb over the English Channel, banking to the starboard, up to forty thousand feet, heading east to Europe. I drop to ten thousand feet again over Normandy Beach, cross France, and then head south, climbing again up over the Swiss Alps, heading southeast and over China before we realize it.
Anna is having a parallel-dimension experience, a two-for-one thrill, both good and bad. I can feel her wonderment of it all, as she has never been in a military jet, and the sheer impact of the ride is awesome; however, when you have not done this before it is also terrifying, not that she would admit it. Thank heavens we are not in combat. I can feel she is having fun, a big thrill. Maybe Anna would want to pilot the Saber for a while.
I know I need to be more careful about this flight, as the showing off to Anna has alerted ten countries. It would be impossible not to see us, not only visually but also with both radar and the huge heat signature. We are moving much too fast to be caught, as nothing on this planet could even come close. Yet that is exactly the problem, as it means they know this ship is not from Earth, which sets into motion issues for everyone. Lots of sightings are trouble for me. I still can’t help myself, and I think I should let Anna feel the Saber; that means giving her the control stick and letting her pilot the starship.
“Anna, are you ready? Do you want to pilot the Saber? You have the copilot stick. It’s easy; the flight computer will correct you if you stray off path or get in trouble. The Saber will engage you mentally when you take the stick. It will know your thoughts; think your flight, and then it happens. Use the stick, as it helps you project your thoughts to control the flight. The stick does nothing to guide the Saber, it just helps your mind focus. Remember, just relax. The Saber reads your mind to know what you want instantly. It’s easy.”
I hear her thoughts and reply, “Don’t worry, you can’t fire the weapons by accident. Push the stick forward and you dive, backward you climb; pull right and it will swing right; left is the same. Just do a little at a time to get used to it. Your speed is adjusted when you squeeze the stick handle; the harder you squeeze, the faster it goes. Press the button on top, and it locks in that speed. As I said the flight is following your thoughts; the stick just helps you channel your thoughts.”
Anna looks at me—excited, not afraid—and is ready to fly the Saber. I feel her emotions, and it feels good to have her next to me. She laughs, yells, “Geronimo,” takes the stick, and immediately accelerates, surging forward. With some g-force we climb quickly: the speed is twelve thousand miles per hour, then quickly to twenty-five thousand miles per hour. We are now at thirty thousand feet, climbing to forty thousand feet within a second. We are over the middle of China, and Anna dives, dropping to a ten-thousand-foot altitude and slowing down once again to seven thousand miles an hour, giving us a chance to see the country. The Great Wall passes under us, and we see many little villages. They are all pleasing to look at, and it’s certainly a big country. Of course we are booming out air concussions.
Anna has leveled off at five thousand feet, and as we near the Pacific she hits the pedal again and boosts the speed to fourteen thousand miles an hour, climbing fast. She’s having a great time and looks over at me every so often, smiling, needing confirmation she is doing this right. I nod and say, “You’re a natural, and the Saber likes you. Take us to LA; the flight processor will give you the navigation.”
I lean back and let Anna feel my confidence in her. I enjoy the Rolling Stones music, feeling the power of the music and also the Saber’s power as it flies faster than a bullet, faster than lightning, like riding the wind.
We are now at twenty-four thousand feet of altitude and running sixteen thousand miles an hour. I tell Anna we are over the Mariana Trench, the deepest part of the Pacific Ocean, thirty-two thousand feet deep. She nods her head and is just starting to look over at me when—
Ga—baaammmmm—mmp—mah—wup!
We are hit hard. The pain to our ears is instantaneous. It’s a massive ear-splitting explosion! The Saber is blasted off course, rolled over from the blast surge, the concussion terrific, now in free fall, then again…
Booom—booboo—ga-bang!
Another huge hit. Then more. It’s all around us, more megadeafening explosions bombing us, our ears exploding with pain. The Saber corrects itself violently, plunges right and drops down, then accelerates with a roaring blast, massively surging forward due west, then straight up, then plunging down. Neither of
us is prepared for the thrust, and we are violently jerked back as we are rocketing up again, pinning us violently to our seats, the force of gravity painful.
The rocket’s fusion reactors are all screaming, thrusting out, with more massive surges forward, and even more explosions are all around us, punching us. The noise is deafening, as the weapons of the Saber are now all firing back, so fast it sounds like multiple Gatling guns firing at the same time, just ear-splitting rapid fire bursts, overwhelming to all the senses.
The Saber is shuddering with massive vibrations from the power of the torque as it twists and turns. The g-force is unbelievable, more than I have ever experienced in all my years of battle. The sky is lighting up for miles from the full fusion thrust, causing a blast tail coming off the Saber’s burners like fire from hell. The stream is sixty miles long and eight miles wide, striking the Pacific Ocean. The airspace over the ocean is consumed by a scorching fire, temperatures around thirty thousand degrees, more like a torrent of continuous nuclear bombs going off, creating massive windstorms of steam over the area, looking like a hurricane that is blasting upward.
We are in combat, and I don’t know who this is attacking us, trying to kill us. It cannot be Earth craft; this is much more lethal. Some powerful enemy has ambushed us. How stupid to be caught like this and maybe kill myself and Anna, too!
I realize the Cyclone is now coming fast for us, as it was instantly alerted and has started firing its weapons toward our attackers. It crosses California at thirty thousand miles an hour, still accelerating, lighting up the night sky there, terrifying the entire population with the fire-stream thrust tail and the blast shocks of the massive nuclear-fusion guns hammering ahead, firing at the alien ships. As the Cyclone comes for us, it’s causing multiple massive sonic booms from the accelerating speed, thunder shaking the Earth like an earthquake.
