In comparison to the size of the missing fusion reactor, the tiny one foot diameter FLIT drive module with its internal silvery pyramid sat atop a thin 4 foot tall pedestal in the center of the big empty space. All the power cables formerly connected to the reactor were spliced into a wiring harness secured to the black base of the FLIT module. GooYee noticed what seemed to be a white misty cloud filling the inside of the glass orb.
Roemer responded, "It's no longer necessary to the operation of our spacecraft. Darn thing was too big and inefficient."
GooYee's reptilian teeth clicked as he closed his mouth in wonder. The Heinbaum FLIT equation had described the nature of the power source but GooYee hadn't had time to fathom its inherent derivations. From what he was seeing, the entire saucer was supposed to be powered by the basketball sized FLIT drive module. GooYee's chest began to feel tight, and he fought a dizzy spell which threatened to make him lose his balance.
Grasping the edge of the entryway to steady himself, he almost screamed in panic, "These crazy Humans have gutted the saucer!"
Just then the red-haired man walked up, slapped the gaping Chrysallaman on the back and declared, "There ya are, Gooey."
GooYee's head lurched forward from the force of the blow and his pocket protector almost slipped from his lab coat. Turning toward the large, grinning Human, GooYee stuffed the pocket protector back into position, rolled his shoulders to ease the dull ache in the middle of his back and replied, "Would you please stop being so friendly and take me to Dr. Heinbaum?"
Pouting his lips in a completely insincere manner as if his feelings had been hurt, McPherson answered, "Aw Gooey, I'm jus' trying to be hospitable.
"Raising his arm in a follow me gesture, he continued, "Come on, I'll take you to him."
Turning to follow the grinning Human up the ramps to the master control room, GooYee said, "Your idea of hospitable is going to end up with me in the hospital."
***
When GooYee entered the master control room, he swept his gaze around and was gratified to discover there was no apparent change in the cabin layout or flight controls. Heinbaum was hunched over the control board conferring with a dark skinned Human.
As McPherson and he neared the flight couches, Heinbaum looked up and said, "It occurred to me you're unfamiliar with most of our solar system."
When the Chrysallaman nodded his head, the beady eyed scientist continued, "There's only one sight in the system you'd recognize and that's the flotilla of mega-liners currently in orbit around Ganymede, the sixth moon of the planet Jupiter."
Putting his hands on his hips in defiance, GooYee declared, "I've already seen enough! Your foolish arrogance has been your undoing."
Raising his finger and pointing it at the skinny gray-haired human, the defiant lizard continued, "Your Human lackeys removed the saucer’s power source! How do you cretins expect to energize your FLIT module? Out of thin air?"
His lips forming a thin grim line and his eyes narrowed to mere slits, Heinbaum poised his right index finger over a blinking blue button on the control panel. Twirling the finger around in dramatic fashion, he pressed the button. The main view screen lit up with a HiDef picture of the planet Earth in a background of black space with a few twinkling stars.
For the second time in one day and the second time in his entire life, GooYee was dumbfounded. With his mouth hanging open and his eyes like dark black unblinking circles, he stared at the beautiful depiction of planet HG-281 from an orbital distance of at least 2,000 miles. Somehow, without power from a fusion reactor, the humans had lifted the scout saucer from its underground hangar and into orbit without the slightest physical indication of movement.
Heinbaum let the lizard stare at the view screen for several moments and then asked, "You were saying?"
"But how?" GooYee stammered. "Your formula only indicated faster than light speed."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Didn't I mention there were several other formulae?"
Dropping his hands from their formerly defiant places on his hips, GooYee grabbed at the back of one of the flight couches to steady himself.
"These crazy Humans are turning everything I've always known to be scientific fact into outmoded garbage."
The gray haired human, Heinbaum, kept interrupting his preoccupied thoughts with more questions.
"Do you remember how long it took for the mother ship to travel from your mega-liner to Earth?"
"Uh what? Oh!" GooYee responded. I believe the trip required around 42 minutes."
"Colonel Fields," Heinbaum addressed the dark skinned Human.
"Would you please set the GPC for Ganymede? We don't want to waste any more of Dr. GooYee's valuable time. He has training courses he must put together for us uneducated Humans. I'm sure he has orientation and instruction materials in his lockers aboard the Rkksshaw. Why don't you give us a five count."
"Sure thing, Doc," Alex responded as he twirled the Salteer away from Earth and centered Jupiter in the view screen.
Hovering his finger over the green square labeled 'GO' on the GPC screen, Alex announced, "Activation in 5 - 4 - 3 - 2 - 1. GO."
Alex, Heinbaum and McPherson had experienced the disorientation caused by the instantaneous transposition of the FLIT drive and looked away from the view screen when the GO button was pressed. GooYee was not so fortunate.
Watching for any change, the physicist suffered the same eye twitching multi-focus as Humans. Losing his balance as the moon Ganymede instantly swept into view, the Chrysallaman fell into an ignominious heap, banging his skull soundly on the unforgiving deck.
Turning to look down on the big lizard who was now sitting up rubbing his sore head, Heinbaum smiled and purred, "You need to be careful on your first FLIT. The sudden transition makes some folks a little dizzy."
Chapter 7 - Alarm
Staff Sergeant Joe Beale felt uneasy, and he couldn't quite put his finger on the reason. Standing at the control pulpit in the communications suite of the Nevada FORCE headquarters staring at the blank view screen, Beale tried to analyze his heebie-jeebies.
Beale was a 20 year veteran of the US Marine Corps. He had extensive combat training and was the kind of experienced sergeant sent on a dangerous mission with a newly minted Lieutenant to make sure every soldier returned safely to base. He was comfortable telling any officer below the rank of Colonel exactly what he thought of their performance, but he did so with respect for their authority where it was deserved. Beale was 5 feet 10 inches tall and weighed 250 lbs. There was not an ounce of fat on the man. His steel gray eyes glinted under the bright overhead lights as he turned his attention to the unmanned rows of computer terminals behind him.
Following several weeks of overwhelming emotional stress as they fielded reports about the destruction to vast areas of Earth and the death of millions of its inhabitants by the Chrysallaman attack force, most of his team had requested and been granted leave. Based on the fact the Chrysallamans had been defeated by the Human counterattacks, there was no immediate reason to maintain the intense level of worldwide communications. His soldiers needed a sanity break.
Maybe his unease was based on his combat experience. When things were too quiet, you needed to increase your vigilance. The tight feeling in his gut didn't match the calm of his surroundings. The old cliché of the calm before the storm kept recurring to him.
The communications suite was one of the largest work spaces in the underground facility. It was 100 feet long and 40 feet wide. The ceiling was 10 feet high and covered with specially designed LED lighting mimicking the full spectrum of natural sunlight. Row after row of computer stations, 200 in all, filled the first 70 feet of the huge space, and all 200 stations were normally manned 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. Right now, because of the leave requests he'd granted, only a handful of the stations were occupied.
There seemed to be a gentle breeze in the room, and Beale knew the air conditioning system always kept the oxygen level 5% above normal. Experts hired to design the s
uite had done their best to make the occupants working there feel comfortable while maintaining high alertness. The full spectrum light and increased oxygen helped accomplish those goals. The remaining 30 feet of the room held a conference table that could seat 20 people. The rear wall was a giant computer monitor surrounded by large speakers. The monitor was 20 feet wide and 8 feet tall. Separating the rows of computer stations from the conference table was a raised platform as wide as the wall monitor. In the center of the platform where Beale now stood was a pulpit-shaped data entry panel used to control the wall monitor and speakers.
The sudden jarring sound of an alarm klaxon caused Beale to involuntarily duck. Pulsating red warning lights switched on at the same time the large view screen on the end wall. Swiveling his head around, Beale saw a sight that made his blood run cold. The blurry image on the monitor was being transmitted from Voyagers 1 and 2, the remaining satellites of an early warning system located one astronomical unit outside the orbit of Pluto. While size was impossible to judge at the moment, the shape was unmistakable. It was a Chrysallaman mother ship.
Stabbing down on the intercom button on the pulpit, Beale raised his voice and said, "General Blunt to Communications! General Blunt to Communications! This is not a drill! Repeat! This is not a drill!"
Watching various pixels in the image shift and clarify as more data flowed into the base computers from the satellites, an instinctive shiver bolted from between Beale's shoulder blades down his spine. There was no doubt about it, the Chrysallamans had returned.
***
"Hey, you can't do that!" Tom said as his team members were mowed down by machine gun fire.
Tom sat in a cushioned, high-backed leather swiveling chair in Whatsit's quarters in the Nevada facility pressing buttons and arrow keys on his X-Box controller as he frantically tried to save his video warriors from the withering attack by Whatsit and his team. Whatsit sat next to him in an identical chair intently focused on winning the skirmish.
Whatsit's quarters were decorated in a western motif. Wooden beams crossed the ceiling. The walls looked like they came from a log cabin, including the grayish-white caulk between each log. Area rugs with buffaloes and Native American designs and symbols dotted the floor. A dark oak armoire stood against one wall, and several decorated sombreros hung from pegs around the room. The end of the living area opposite the entry door was dedicated to an elaborate entertainment system consisting of a 65 inch LED 4K TV, a long, high-tech soundbar with wireless subwoofer and the very latest Blu-ray player with built-in streaming Wi-Fi. An X-Box, Playstation and Wii console with every peripheral controller, headset and accessory known to exist rounded out the electronics.
"It's very sad your combat experience relies so heavily on weapons of mass destruction," Whatsit replied as he blasted away two more of Tom's soldiers.
Wincing as the screen declared victory for Whatsit's Raiders and logged the 4th major defeat of Blunt's Brigade; Tom glared at the big green lizard and said, "It's obvious you have too much time on your hands. The only way you could be this proficient at Ghost Warriors is if you spent 6 hours a day practicing."
Looking back over his shoulder at the only other occupant in Whatsit's quarters, Tom complained, "Did you see what he did, MerrCrr? He killed me and all my men!"
Shaking his head in wide-eyed amazement at the spectacle of a Chrysallaman and a Human doing their best to kill each other in a video game, MerrCrr Z. JnnWall replied, "You're both certifiably insane, and I'm sure I've actually died and been sent to Hell."
Whatsit quirked up the right corner of his mouth in his way of smiling and responded, "Oh, you haven't seen anything yet. Wait 'til I show you the Star Wars Trilogy," and in a deeply resonant mental voice he intoned, "Luke, I am your Father!"
To which Tom replied with a laugh, "No, no. The Cantina scene! He'll think Humans are out of their minds when he sees all the aliens in the bar!"
Just then the base-wide intercom clicked and the excited voice of Sergeant Beale said, "General Blunt to Communications! General Blunt to Communications! This is not a drill! Repeat! This is not a drill!"
Tossing down his controller, Tom ran for the door, "Come with me Whatsit, and bring MerrCrr with you!"
Nodding his head, Whatsit jumped to his feet, grabbed JnnWall by the arm and trotted after Tom.
***
The Exalted Emperor of the Chrysallaman Empire, Terr Horcunt, slowly blinked his eyes as he sensed the hinged lid of his stasis pod being opened. Recognizing the face of his chief medical physician, Dr. Oberram Dunnsk, Emperor Horcunt sat up and accepted the doctor's help climbing from the pod onto the deck of the Royal Suite onboard his flagship Destinnee.
Looking around, he spotted the Captain of his personal guard, Yoogo Batress, standing at attention near the entryway. In no mood for wasting time, Horcunt demanded, "What is our current location and time for arrival at the HG-281 solar system?"
"Your Majesty," Batress responded. "We're one week from arrival on the outskirts of the Solar System at light speed. Our engineers are assessing the extent of damage inflicted by the Asiddian attack. At this point, reports indicate the damage is confined to the outer bulkheads on the starboard side near the forward and aft stabilizers."
Yoogo Batress was a compact Chrysallaman. Standing less than 6 feet tall, he behaved like a confident black belt karate master stepping into competition with a white belted novice. Nicely developed supple muscles covered his body, and he moved with the smooth and powerful grace of a leopard. There was a no-nonsense aura about him. If it wasn't for the knife cut scar across the right side of his throat, his green hide and facial profile would have been model perfect. His combat vest was of the latest design, and he carried two cutter ray pistols in double western style holsters belted at his hips.
"Maintain course and speed," Horcunt ordered as Dr. Dunnsk tried to take his blood pressure and temperature. "Begin automatic hailing on all radio frequencies. Instruct all Chrysallaman mother ships under General Hisspat Zeck's command to stop whatever they're doing and rendezvous with us as quickly as possible."
Batress nodded curtly and strode from the room. Horcunt dismissed his doctor, left his Royal Suite and walked down the passageway to his throne room. Ignoring the saluting guards, he sat down with a sigh in his diamond glass throne. He was at least 100 years old. His green skin was wrinkled and mottled with dark age spots. His coal black eyes showed the large, gray, cloudy swirls of cataracts. Deep worry lines creased his forehead as he recalled the horrible calamity that had driven him from Chrysalis.
Less than 5 weeks after the colonization fleet commanded by General Zeck had departed for planet HG-281, a flotilla of warships on a direct course for Chrysalis had been detected. In all the centuries of exploration and conquest by the Chrysallaman Empire, the lizards had never encountered a spacegoing race of sentient beings. Sensors indicated the flotilla was composed of 90 spaceships each twice the size of a mother ship.
Unnerved by the vast armada headed towards the capitol of his Empire, the Emperor's High General had ordered three mother ships to engage the incoming craft in combat to test their weaponry and defensive capabilities. The plan was for two of the ships to engage the enemy, and the third to observe and record the encounter for later analysis.
Recalling the high definition video recording of the brief battle, Horcunt shivered. The two mother ships had pulled within range of the armada and engaged a single enemy ship with a coordinated mix of heat and cutter rays. The armor plate cloaking the enemy spacecraft was either very thick or made of a substance unknown to Chrysallaman science. Unaffected by the powerfully destructive energy weapons of the mother ships, the enemy craft fired a sharply focused beam of red light at each mother ship. Wherever the streak of red touched, a slice of structure fell away from the mother ship. It was like watching a sharp knife section a slab of meat. The mother ship making the recording barely escaped its own destruction by activating its light speed gravity drive and fleeing toward Chrysalis jus
t before a beam of red light sliced through it.
Chrysallamans had never been helpless in the face of any known race of beings yet nothing could stop the inexorable pace of the enemy's approach. Mother ship after mother ship sent to defend the planet was destroyed. In the final hours before the enemy entered orbit around Chrysalis, a powerful radio broadcast had overwhelmed worldwide communication bands.
The announcement and warning were simple and clear. 'All Chrysallamans shall surrender themselves to the Asiddian Empire for indoctrination and re-assignment. Anyone attempting to escape the benevolent embrace of the Asiddian Empire shall have their life functions terminated.'
In abject terror, Horcunt fled. Racing toward what he thought was a fleet of warships and 20 million colonists on Planet HG-281, Horcunt believed he could live out his days as Emperor protected by his remaining military forces. The ceremony renaming the planet Chrysalis II was already organized, and a rehearsal was scheduled to take place as soon as he landed.
His idle thoughts were interrupted by one of his favorite concubines who caught his attention. Peering demurely at him from the doorway to his private office, she beckoned him to join her for a little post-stasis party. Grinning like a demented teenager, the old codger rose to his feet and headed toward her, all thoughts of danger from the Asiddians and contact with Zeck's invasion fleet forgotten.
Dawn of Chrysalis (The Origin of F.O.R.C.E. Book 2) Page 8
