The Third Craft

by James Harris

  They dove deeper and deeper. The queen was on their tail, but stopped firing as soon as she hit the water. There was an ominous silence.

  Joe voiced a command and a 3-D view of the ocean floor appeared. A special light beamed ahead. A dark gray-brown color filled the main monitor. Their velocity had slowed somewhat because of the water.

  Hawk tapped Joe on the shoulder. “Look over there. Aren’t those caves? We can hide there.”

  Joe studied the ocean floor ahead. “And if we can’t hide …” He steered the craft toward the caves.

  Suddenly there was a warning siren.

  The computer began, “Imminent attack. Sonic weapon …”

  There was a tremendous impact, like a gigantic hammer blow. The craft was hit from behind. It tumbled nose over end like a wisp of tumbleweed in the desert.

  Joe and Hawk were tumbled about the cabin. They were thrown against the command console, then the chairs, and then the monitor. Blood exploded from their noses, mouths, and ears. They screamed in agony at the unexpected assault, ending up in a heap in the corner of the command deck.

  “Sonic attack. Next encounter fatal. Alpha Series cannot withstand another assault,” the computer reported.

  Joe and Hawk struggled to remain conscious. They tried to pull themselves upright into their command chairs.

  “Hull breach is imminent. Recommend activating personal shields for survival.”

  Joe moaned and looked up at the screen. Blood was oozing from his nose. Even his eyes were beet red as some tiny vessels had burst. They were mere yards away from the caves where they might obtain some level of protection from the sonic waves.

  Shakily he touched the command console. One last try. The craft lurched ahead and found the mouth of the cave, throwing up a cloud of silt from the ocean floor.

  At that exact instant, the queen fired a second sonic volley at the vulnerable spaceship.

  The ship was pummeled with a thunderous roar of sound waves. It was blown through the cave entrance and dashed against the inside of the cave.

  The queen came closer to inspect. The dense cloud of bubbles had dissipated.

  Alpha III was silent. It bobbed upside down like a dead tree log against the cave walls. There was a ten-foot gash along her fuselage, and she was taking on water. Oxygen bubbled from the tear. The craft was slowly sinking into the sandy bottom of the cave floor.

  The queen pulsed for life signs, but the results were inconclusive because the twins had no discernable Signature. The biometrics of the spacecraft were reading near zero. It was producing neither oxygen nor heat. The only activity was some low-level computer work, most probably trying to repair itself. Too late for the dead crew.

  The queen thought about hitting the spacecraft one more time with a sonic attack, but noted that her power resources were precariously low. Why risk it? Dead was dead. No one could have lived through that assault.

  All in all, she felt it had been a productive night. She had wiped out the entire line of the House of Narok. Now no one would stand in her way.

  The queen arced her craft away from the cave and sped toward the ocean surface. She was eager to get back and share the good news with her children.

  CHAPTER75

  Amonda had needed to make certain the queen had left the building. The queen would assume that both siblings were incapacitated, and Amonda did not want to change that.

  After several minutes of searching, she could spot neither the queen nor her telltale Signature, so she quickly made her way to the roof and jumped aboard the empty transporter.

  The transporter’s computer system immediately alerted her to the drama that had unfolded in the sky over Washington. She had no idea who was aboard the Alpha. She thought it might be Kor and Stell, so she gave chase.

  Her hands flew over the controls as she did some onboard calculations evaluating the ships’ recent trajectories. Amonda slowly and cautiously descended into the black, briny ocean water in pursuit of the two ships.

  When she arrived at the caves, minutes later, there was no sign of either craft, and no life signs. One of the ships, the recipient of the attack, might still be down here somewhere and was probably damaged. She had a strong intuition it was the Alpha craft. The question was: Had the crew survived?

  Amonda eased the transporter toward the caves. She increased the intensity of her searchlight. There were thousands of dead fish and fish guts floating about. A school of gray sharks had descended upon the area and were snapping up the free meal. They bumped into the transporter without any trepidation.

  At the fifth cave entrance, she spotted the wreck of Alpha III. It was lolling upside down, lifeless.

  Amonda positioned her craft beside the scout ship and hailed it. Nothing but silence greeted her in the murky water.

  She could not sense the Signatures of either Kor or Stell. She felt panic rising, stifling her. She had to act fast.

  “Dock with target vehicle,” Amonda commanded.

  “Acknowledged. Docking in twenty seconds,” the computer responded.

  Amonda touched the panel again to communicate to the ship’s computer. “Prepare for side-by-side fusion to hull. Snag and transport it outside using the underside method.”

  “Acknowledged. Capture and fuse to under-hull.”

  “Return to the surface at maximum speed without endangering either ship.”

  “Acknowledged. Destination?”

  “Just the surface of the ocean. Remote access Alpha III computer.”

  “On-screen.”

  Amonda ran a quick diagnostic of the stricken craft. There was a large slice out of her side. The hull had been breached and the ship had flooded.

  “Alpha III, are you on-line?”

  “Acknowledged. Master Amonda.”

  “Alpha III, you are to blow the ballast and oxygenate the interior of the craft.”

  “The hull is breached and the oxygen will not sustain.”

  “I know that. You are to pressurize the cabin. Ignore the oxygen that escapes. Keep introducing fresh oxygen.”

  “Acknowledged. Pressurization sequence commencing.”

  “Maintain until further notice.”

  She thought for a moment. Nowhere safe came to mind. Then, she thought of the air force base at Bolling.

  “Bolling AFB. Co-ordinates on file.”

  The transporter maneuvered expertly so that the Alpha III was resting on the roof of the transporter. The craft slowly rolled over so that it was upright and the spaceship was lodged to the roof. They had the bizarre appearance of two mating beetles.

  The awkward pair swirled through the boiling ocean water upward toward the surface. Streams of bubbles flowed gracefully from the ships. They broke the surface of the water, hesitated as the skies were scanned for hostiles, and then rose majestically out of the sea. The seawater rolled and washed away from both crafts as they gained altitude leaving behind a trail of mist.

  The transporter lumbered up and up into the atmosphere.

  How had the queen known about Alpha III? Amonda wondered. She had vacated her headquarters and attacked the ship spontaneously, or so it had seemed. How had Amonda not noticed the queen’s departure? Who was on board the captured ship? Not Stell or Kor. Unless they were dead. There were no Signatures. Amonda shuddered at the thought of both of her half-brothers dead.

  The only people it could be, she reasoned, were Kor’s sons. They, too, must be dead by now. How could they have lived through an onslaught of sonic weapons? They would most likely have drowned in the flooding of the craft after the hull was breached.

  The transporter settled down inside Amonda’s secret hideaway on the base.

  The building was more like an old warehouse than a hangar. The practicality of extraterrestrial spacecraft, compared with the aircraft of twentieth century Earth, was that they needed less space. Even when the two craft were piggybacked, one atop the other as they were now, they still fit under the twenty-five foot ceiling.

  Amond
a scrambled out of the transporter and crawled hand over hand up to the damaged fuselage of Alpha III perched on its roof.

  There was a gaping rip in the skin of the craft. The interior was not visible, but it was clear that the integrity of the ship had been breeched. There were about a dozen dangling strands of fibrous hosing hanging out of the six-foot-long gash. They oozed a thick yellow-green liquid that began to drip onto the transporter’s pristine white roof.

  Amonda leaned out over the side of the scout ship and raised her hand. The ship was slow to respond, but it did so after about five seconds. The portal hissed open, spewing out gallons of ocean water over the transporter below onto the old concrete floor and down the floor drains. She waited until the water had drained before attempting to enter.

  She heaved herself on board and looked inside. The interior was dark. The door began to close and she stopped it with a voice command. She needed the light to see.

  She proceeded down the passage. When Amonda was almost at the bridge, she saw the two young men crumpled in a corner.

  Kor’s sons. And they were alive.

  With her finely attuned eyesight, she was able to see the frequencies of the combined aura that surrounded both of them, weakly protecting them. The blunt force trauma of the sonic attack must have been fierce. Their auras would have been able to only absorb so much.

  She rushed to them. They were unconscious. Their wet hair was matted to their foreheads. Blood streamed from ruptures in their noses and ears. That was a good sign! Flowing blood meant beating hearts.

  She reached slowly inside the aura and placed her hands gently on each young man. She ran one hand through Joe’s hair and began to touch his scalp with her fingers, flesh on flesh. With her other hand, she did the same to Hawk. She was kneeling before the pair with both hands outstretched and in contact with both their minds.

  While she couldn’t exactly read their minds, she was sensitive to their medical condition and mental state. They both had concussions. It would take some time to bring them back to normal, but their brainwave patterns were firing on all cylinders.

  But there was something else, deep inside both of them, she had never encountered before. It was a power – a raw, unsophisticated, primal connection with each other. She made a motion to withdraw her hands. The last time she had encountered such a primal force of nature was when she encountered her mother, the Ancient One.

  Some day they could have a power that would rival the queen’s. Time would tell.

  Suddenly, there was a psychic grip on her wrists. It felt like two iron hands had grabbed both her wrists simultaneously. She couldn’t move or remove her physical touch from their flesh. Then she felt a sudden and unwelcome intrusion, the penetration of both males at once into her mind. They grew larger and larger within her. She willed the penetration to end. She squirmed and thrashed about, but her hands were locked solid on their skulls.

  Their minds were exploring hers for clues on how to heal themselves. Her knowledge was exposed before their unbridled power. Her ancient memories and wizard secrets were an open book to them, and they read it.

  Then she began to understand. To the unconscious Grayer twins, Amonda was still the enemy. She may have come to harm them. They were allowing her the opportunity to justify her actions by reading her mind. If she was lying, and they found out, they would turn her brain into mush in an instant. It was a humbling experience for the powerful wizard.

  Abruptly the mental interrogation ceased. She was released. Her hands slid down the faces of the twins. They looked just like sleeping boys. It had been a mutual exchange of memories. She saw the extent of their persecution and their dilemma here on Earth. She understood how they felt like aliens among their own kind, like traitors almost. They felt they didn’t really fit in anywhere, that their destiny was one of isolation.

  Amonda laid the pair out on the floor as comfortably as she could. She did not have the strength to move them. Their auras had settled down, as there was no immediate danger.

  “Computer. Do you have the anatomical map of these humans?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Run a diagnostic. I wish to confirm the nature of their injuries.”

  A bar of bright red light appeared in the ceiling and slowly coursed over the pair lying on the floor.

  “Done. Both males have cranial concussions. No blood clotting. No brain damage. One has a fractured arm and three fractured ribs. Multiple bruising throughout for both males. The second male has a sprained ankle and wrist, and a fractured knee cap.”

  “I see. Medical recommendations?”

  “Males should remain unconscious for twelve hours to speed cranial repair. We could effect repair quickly if you were able to move them to the Medical Transition Chamber.”

  “I am unable to move them.”

  “Understood. Remote recovery time is estimated at seven days minimal and twenty days maximum for full recovery.”

  “Computer, are you able to induce a remote medical coma?”

  “Negative. The chamber is needed for that process.”

  “I see. I will attempt to do so myself.” Having said that, she conjured up a few Voice incantations and hoped that the twins would sleep and repair themselves over the next several days.

  “Computer, I need to separate the two craft. I have need of the transporter.”

  “Diagnostics are incomplete, Master Amonda. There may not be sufficient auxiliary energy to perform a separation as initiated from this craft. Recommend utilizing transporter.”

  “I have the transporter on-line with my Bio-Com. The transporter will jettison Alpha III in sixty seconds. I need this craft to hover for at least ninety seconds to enable me to free the two ships.”

  “The anti-matter drive is off-line, but it can be done with reserve power.”

  “I’ll depart in the transporter as soon as we separate.”

  She exited the bridge and then left the ship.

  The separation worked. Amonda left the damaged Alpha III in the warehouse and soared away. Her destination was the Air and Space Museum a few miles away. That was the spot where Kor and Stell were planning to meet. She had to get to them right away.

  CHAPTER76

  As the transporter neared the Museum, Amonda spotted a cluster of emergency vehicles with lights flashing white, red, and blue on the front lawn of the building.

  Most were parked haphazardly on Jefferson. There was a crane and four sets of powerful spotlights illuminating the collapsed area. Soldiers had blended in with the local D.C. cops to cordon off a two-block square area. This was a military-sensitive area.

  Amonda slowed the craft to hover over the roof of the museum, out of the direct glare of the lights below. She settled the ship down onto the flat asphalt and stone roof with a soft crunch.

  She guessed that Stell and Kor were involved in the situation under the boulevard lawn. An underground explosion, no doubt. The queen’s work. She recalled the conversation regarding the Space Museum. There must be a passage running from the Museum to where they were trapped. It was 2:30 in the morning and pitch black. Amonda needed to enter the Air and Space Museum without all kinds of alarms going off.

  She reached into the transporter and ran her hand expertly over a few controls. Seconds later, several spurts of energy bolts were emitted from the craft and flew toward various electrical grids on the roof. As the energy struck the grids there was a massive shower of sparks and the entire system shut down. There was a secondary explosion seconds later as the backup emergency system was targeted and disabled.

  Reaching in again, she touched the main control board. There was a narrow flash of light and the double-walled steel door leading from the roof to the interior of the Museum was blown off its hinges and flopped outward onto the roof surface.

  Amonda slipped into the building and stealthily made her way down to the bottom level as rapidly as she dared.

  After some searching, she managed to find the door that led down to the und
erground passageway. That passageway inevitably led to the Capitol Building a mile away. She followed the underground channel on the run. There was no light and the passage was silent.

  As she ran Amonda strained to sense the Signatures of her half-brothers whom she now called her brothers. At first she felt nothing, but then sensed a surge of distress. An aura was under extreme duress. They were there, but in trouble. Amonda did not know how much longer her brothers could manage to survive being buried underground.

  Her Bio-Com activated. “Alert. Transporter has been boarded. Signature confirmed as the Queen of the House of Abishot.”

  “Advise Her Majesty that I am on my way up to meet her.”

  “She acknowledges you. She awaits you.”

  She stepped out onto the roof of the Air and Space Museum. She saw immediately that the queen had landed her fighter beside the transporter. Amonda dreaded another confrontation with the queen, but knew it was inevitable.

  “What are we to do with you, Amonda?” the queen asked as Amonda entered the transporter. She was seated in the left command chair. “Sit down, we must have a chat.”

  Amonda challenged her. “No, I must get down there and rescue Stell.”

  “Don’t be silly, they are both dead, gone. There are no Signatures.”

  “I sensed both were alive, distressed, but alive, when I was in the tunnel myself. I am going to rescue them, or recover them, whichever the case may be. I cannot sit here and do nothing.”

  “Sit down!” the queen hissed.

  “No. I have had enough of this, and enough of you!”

  “Do you have any idea of the kind of pain I can inflict on you?”

  “I can imagine, but it can’t be any worse than being your captive and slave. I am done with that, and I am done with you.”

  “You can’t deny me,” the queen said. “I own you.”

  Amonda stopped at the doorway. “Maybe you did once, but not any more.”

  The door opened with a soft hiss. Amonda moved toward it.