Hybrid - Forced Vengeance

by Ballan, Greg

  Chapter 13: Gestation Day 45

  Day 117 on the infant development scale

  Shanda Knight had been walking briskly on the treadmill for nearly an hour. It was difficult to exercise without the loud alternative music she normally had playing to occupy her mind. Now only her thoughts kept her company.

  Earlier, from the couch in her cell, she had been able to catch the words appearing on the oversized display monitor. With her telepathic ability she’d been aware of Gray’s deception. He’d managed to outmaneuver the military and he’d summoned his own kind.

  She couldn’t help but wonder what exactly would happen when the two opposing forces met. Would there be discussions or an armed conflict? Shanda huffed at the realization that the hotheaded Ross would be acting as spokesman for an entire planet should visitors from another world actually come and claim the tiny alien.

  Shanda felt another rumbling in her stomach and a mild cramp brought suspicions that she wasn’t out of woods with this pregnancy. The baby went into a fussing mode and the skin over her abdomen stretched, then she felt a sharp stabbing pain.

  “Oh, God, not again.”

  She struggled over to the emergency communications panel and slammed the red button herself. A voice over the speaker asked what the problem was but Shanda was in too much pain to respond. She rubbed her stomach to ease the pain and calm the baby but he continued, tossing, turning – growing. She rushed to the sink and vomited blood and bile then staggered over to her bed. Lying on her back, she concentrated her attention on the overhead lights which turned multiple colors that danced in front of her eyes. Bit by bit the colors faded and everything went black.

  * * * *

  Sergeant Phelps paged the medical staff and relayed what little information he could. He hurried to lower the clear barrier and ran to Shanda’s side. Gently lifting the woman, he placed her in a recovery position to avoid further complications. With his shirt, he wiped away the fluids from her mouth then ensured that her airway was unobstructed.

  Placing fingertips against her throat, Phelps felt for a pulse, “Hang on, Mrs. Knight. Help is on the way.” After agonizing seconds, he felt the faint beat of a pulse through her carotid artery. The sergeant placed his wrist below her nostrils and breathed a sigh of relief at evidence of the faint exhalations.

  Then Phelps heard the sound of ligaments and bones shifting inside the woman’s body. He looked down toward her stomach and gasped. The unborn child was moving and shifting as if fighting his confinement beneath her flesh.

  Phelps’s stomach contracted. He did his best not to vomit as fluid began spilling from her body, soaking the crotch of her sweat pants. “Where are the doctors?”

  The titanium door hissed open and the emergency medical team rushed into the chamber. Phelps did his best to inform them of what he had observed prior to, during and after her collapse – then stepped back as several more medical technicians rushed inside, pushing a variety of pieces of life support equipment. There was nothing further that he could do for her; it was up to the doctors and scientists now.

  * * * *

  Gray peered through the transparent wall of his prison at Shanda Knight and the struggling medical team. He was not pleased that this part of his mental analysis was coming true. Shanda Knight did not look like she would survive the gestation of her hybrid offspring.

  GROOM LAKE: SENTINEL CONTROL CENTER

  The chief’s nose was hovering over the sensor scope, so he knew there was no way that the blip that just appeared should be there. Substantial objects didn’t just materialize on the scope. Yet he’d seen no prior sign of the incoming bogey that appeared in the middle of his tracking sector.

  “Sir,” he said, and turned to the officer on deck, “we have an incoming vector on an Earth intercept trajectory.”

  The officer on deck moved from his supervisory chair to stand over the chief’s scope and from there scrutinized the screen.

  “Damn it, chief, were you sleeping? That reading is half way through your sector, already.”

  “I know, sir. I swear, a second ago there was nothing on screen and then on the next sweep, ‘Bingo!’ there it was, out of nowhere.”

  The officer on deck gave the chief a pat on the shoulder. “Calculate the object’s target, based on current trajectory.”

  The chief accessed several computers and transferred the object’s speed, trajectory and aligned it with the Earth’s rotation and orbital path and then he laid out those results with the gravitational fields the Moon and Mars may have on the incoming object’s path. He fed the data stream into the base’s large mainframe. The master computer immediately flashed the coordinates on the chief’s terminal. “Point of impact, or landing, is this facility– plus or minus ten kilometers.”

  “Sound ‘action stations’ and get me Colonel Ross, now!” the officer ordered. “What are the current power readings on Sentinel? And give me a position report in its current orbit? I want a course-and-burn calculation plotted to have Sentinel intercept that incoming bogey before the colonel arrives. ET’s on the way, and we’ll give him an extra special welcome, courtesy of the Sentinel Battle Satellite.”

  * * * *

  Sweating profusely, Colonel Ross arrived at Sentinel Command and Control Headquarters along with his Special Ops team. “Report!” he barked, settling in the executive chair at the heart of the command center.

  “Sir,” the officer on deck said, “the unknown object has passed the moon and slowed to a velocity of thirty miles per second. I expect another deceleration vector as it comes within range of Earth which is estimated to be in just over two hours. Sentinel and lunar tracking equipment presently have a passive-motion lock and are refining the target’s bearing regularly. Sentinel has been primed for orbital maneuvering to a point 500 kilometers from interception and is standing by for your orders.”

  “Excellent.” Ross gestured for Anderson to come within earshot. He whispered, “Should we have Goliath on standby?”

  Anderson shook his head. “I don’t think so, sir. Any unusual orbital movement would be detected easily. Goliath is a huge piece of hardware. Let’s keep our big gun in reserve; I’m sure Sentinel can bring this ship down without any problem.”

  “Agreed. Let’s not reveal all of our cards just yet.” He turned to the officer on deck. “Have Sentinel move into position.” Ross gestured for Anderson to lean in closer.

  “I heard there was trouble with our other project.” Ross looked to Anderson for an explanation.

  “The patient is experiencing further fetal distress. The medical team is working on her as we speak. We have an incubation chamber standing by in case the mother expires prematurely,” Anderson replied, somewhat worried.

  “Keep me informed. Update me every fifteen minutes on her condition.” Anderson agreed with a nod.

  Both men shifted to a visual screen that highlighted the incoming bogey and studied its progress.

  “Lunar tracking is transmitting digital imagery from their orbiting surveillance probe; we have images, sir,” a technician reported.

  “Put it on the big screen,” Ross ordered.

  The technician flipped a series of switches and the large display screen split into two. The upper section was a smaller representation of the space between Earth and the moon, depicting the incoming target as a red arrow while the bottom section flashed multiple images of the approaching alien vessel.

  The vessel on screen looked far different from anything they had seen before. The two craft the military had previously recovered were classic flying saucers; round discs that were perfectly symmetrical, while the approaching craft was triangular in shape with rounded corners. The stern of the craft had three glowing ports – likely exhaust or thruster ports for rocket fired engines. These ports continually changed color and were visibly distorting space in the craft’s wake. On one side of the ship an egg-shaped object grew out of the angular shell like a tumor.

  Ross picked up a laser-capable pointing d
evice and highlighted the unusual protruding object. “What the hell is that?”

  The officer on deck accessed a keyboard then read aloud from his screen, “We have readings coming in from our lunar probes, sir. Object is emitting zero heat and zero radiation. Object is exactly fifteen meters in length, with a forward height and width of ten centimeters. Object width varies from front to back as well with the rear width of seven meters. The overall protrusion is two meters in length. The object is sweeping an area of 2000 kilometers with micro pulse ion emissions.” The officer looked up from his post. “Sir, at that rate of scan, it will detect Sentinel’s energy emissions as she powers up to fire.”

  “What’s the maximum range of Sentinel’s particle beam?” Ross asked.

  “The beam has no real range, sir,” another technician cut in. “The beam is composed of super heated radioactive particles that result from hyper excited radioactive material.”

  “Please,” Ross implored, “spare me the nuclear physics lecture and just answer the question.”

  The technician reddened. “The beam is most destructive at less than 800 kilometers of distance; at over 1000 kilometers the emissions begin to disperse and dilute into free space.”

  “What kind of damage would the beam do at just outside that ship’s active detection field?” the colonel asked as he formulated a plan.

  The technician did the calculations while Ross tapped the arm of his command chair impatiently.

  “The beam would dissipate to about sixty to seventy percent efficiency and spread from five millimeters to twenty-five millimeters in diameter, thereby further reducing the concentrated area of impact.”

  Ross looked around at his technical staff. “I want opinions, people. Would that be enough to cripple that ship? Take ten minutes to review the data and give me your collective analysis.”

  Ross looked up at Anderson. “Bill, if we can hit it and fire a continuous pulse for at least three seconds that should be enough to cripple it, right? We can always recalibrate for another shot as it gets closer. We’ll need to damage it before it can detect Sentinel’s reactors and radiation emissions.”

  Anderson shook his head. “What if Sentinel doesn’t do enough damage at that distance? We’ll have tipped our hand and presented Sentinel as a valid target. I think it’s safe to assume that this craft is capable of defending itself. Clearly – it’s already on alert and expecting trouble.”

  “Sir!” a technician said, alarmed. “Object has just increased speed and is accelerating.”

  “Prepare Sentinel for firing!” Ross straightened in his chair. “The decision’s just been made for us.”

  “Sentinel reactors one, two, and three are all on line and prepping to fire.” A silence followed then the same technician reported, “Sentinel has re-acquired passive and active target lock on incoming object and has moved into optimal firing position.”

  “Program Sentinel to fire when the object is at a distance of 2010 kilometers,” Ross ordered. “I want a good five-second pulse on that ship if we can maintain it.”

  “Firing that kind of prolonged output could melt the control rods and possibly damage the emitter node,” Anderson whispered to Ross.

  “If we don’t disable that ship, it won’t matter. We need to let these beings know that Earth is capable of defending itself.”

  “Agreed,” Anderson replied and added, “but we don’t have the authority to instigate a celestial conflict with a race of technologically advanced beings. A distant, half-second pulse, fired at their ship would more than get our point across. We should try to communicate before we take an aggressive posture.”

  The colonel whipped around to Anderson. “Are you crazy? They are invaders, not allies!”

  “Sentinel is primed and ready to fire a five-second burst. All coolant systems are functioning at full capacity,” the technician reported.

  “Excellent.” Ross whispered the word, then muttered to himself, “C’mon, you son of a bitch. We’re waiting.”

  DETAINMENT FACILITY ALPHA BRAVO SEVEN,

  GROOM LAKE

  The doctors and medical technicians had been tending Shanda Knight for nearly twenty minutes. The woman’s abdomen seemed stretched to its limit and, according to ultrasounds, the now fully developed hybrid child rested low in the mother’s birth canal. The strange membrane that encased the fetus had ruptured and been shed by the mother’s body along with roughly three pints of green-tinted liquid. Against all possible odds, Shanda Knight had survived this far. Her child had fully developed over an amazingly short forty-six days of gestation.

  There was very little the doctors could actually do, save for monitoring the unconscious woman’s vitals and providing her a steady regimen of fluids. The mysterious offspring was developing of its own accord and seemed to be manipulating its environment according to its own need, necessity and schedule.

  Shanda along with the entire medical staff of doctors and technicians were now merely observers to the monumental event of nature. The patient now slept comfortably, and probably would be in her peaceful state for several hours.

  Staff Sergeant Phelps looked at the woman with concern. She now looked like an expectant mother, a far cry from the sensuous female he had seen only days earlier.

  “Will she live, doctor?” he asked.

  Allison smiled. “Yes, she’s remarkably strong. She’ll be fine. The baby seems to be preparing itself for a natural human birth.” She gestured at a white bedpan that was filled with shed tissue to be examined later in the medical facilities laboratory. “All of the alien organic matter has been shed, leaving an intact human placenta and umbilical cord. The baby should come within a few days or even sooner. Let’s hope the child allows its mother a few days to recuperate and get her strength back before its birth – which should be very soon now.”

  “It’s too bad her husband isn’t here,” Phelps whispered sadly. “She’d want her husband to be here for the birth of his son.”

  Allison nodded sadly. “We’ll just have to do the best we can for her, sergeant.”

  “What will happen to her after the child is born? What’s Ross going to do to her baby?” he asked anxiously.

  “The baby will be studied.”

  Phelps understood. ‘Studying’ would consist of several invasive tests and tissue extractions that were less than humane in nature. The hybrid child would become the property of the military, with no protected rights or freedom. The child would grow up a captive lab rat at the mercy of scientists and doctors who only cared about what secrets they could unlock – and not about the child’s well being.

  He whispered to the doctor to avoid detection from the microphones. “And Shanda Knight will simply fall off the face the Earth, this time to truly become one of the deceased.” Phelps sighed heavily. “What kind of people are we that we can simply condone this? How can we do nothing while this vile crap plays itself out before us?”

  “Do you think this is what I want for my patient?” Allison whispered back. “I know what Ross has in store for her and for the child. I don’t want to see that come to pass, nor do any of the other doctors on this team. This is butchery, but who can we complain to? If we leaked anything we’d wind up in the deepest hole out in the middle of nowhere. My life is far from perfect, but I’d kind of like to live it out.”

  Phelps smiled briefly, recalling those very words. Exactly what he’d said to Gray a few days earlier. “I can relate to that.”

  SPACE, BETWEEN THE EARTH AND MOON

  Sentinel’s reactors built up a full charge while its tracking computers continuously made micro adjustments to the satellite’s emitter node. The unidentified object was closing rapidly toward Earth and at its current rate of velocity would disintegrate into ash if it entered the atmosphere – or bounce off the atmospheric layer if it came in too shallow. Sentinel’s other programmed objective was to cripple the incoming craft for capture and study.

  The alien target came to within 4000 kilometers, and Sentin
el’s particle beam-emitter fully extended from its housing while continually tracking the fast moving object. Sentinel fired a half second burn of its starboard thruster to keep the satellite locked into its current firing position. Command prompts from the ground base were continually fed and processed through the satellite’s computer core while megabytes of tracking and positioning data were transmitted back to Earth’s computers.

  The alien object performed a drastic velocity dump as it closed to within 3000 kilometers of Earth. It took the battle satellite two full seconds to recalibrate and compensate for the enemy craft’s unpredicted maneuver.

  The alien craft continued to close the distance to Earth while Sentinel remained at the ready, for the moment when its computers would unleash a firestorm of plasma and hard radiation at the unsuspecting intruder. As the craft closed to within 2500 kilometers, the egg-shaped protrusion detached from its moorings and launched itself toward Earth.

  Sentinel allocated a small amount of computer resources to track and report the unsuspected occurrence to ground control. The larger alien vessel slowed further and began to turn away, outside of the battle satellite’s programmed firing range.

  “Fire on target,” Ross ordered.

  Sentinel received new command prompts from the ground computers, overriding previous instructions. The weapon discharged a long lethal burst of compressed radiation and energy toward the alien craft.

  For four seconds a fine red beam joined the alien invader and the human defender. Sentinel recorded a secondary detonation engulfing a section of the alien craft. It reported back to Earth’s command computer: The vessel had been damaged.