When the Gods Aren't Gods: Book Two of The Theogony

by Chris Kennedy

  A group of five people was standing at the end of the replicator pointing at something inside it. About 10 feet of the shuttle was now showing, and there were a variety of trucks and anti-gravity sleds that were marshalling near the end of the replicator. Even though things weighed less on the moon, they still had the same mass and inertia. A shuttle measuring 200 feet in length had a lot of both.

  With a start, Calvin realized how mesmerizing it was to watch the shuttle emerge from the replicator. Sadayo must have written his poem after watching the last one come out. Although it was interesting to watch, the process was still going to take at least another couple of hours to complete. He had more important things to do. “Let’s go,” he said to Samurai.

  The two men put their helmets back on, checked each other and went back through the airlock to the surface of the moon. At some point, a tunnel was going to connect the hangar with the living area, but it hadn’t been completed yet. It was inconvenient to have to go outside, but by now Calvin had put his suit on enough times that it was second nature. The two men walked across the 50 feet of open area to the main base entrance. Calvin looked at the shuttle sitting on the ramp and the army of people unloading the raw materials and building supplies that he had brought up.

  Flying a shuttle was a lot different than flying an air-breathing airplane. After every flight in an F-18, he had to go into Maintenance Control and write up all of the things that were wrong with it. The shuttle was a big step forward. It had its own small artificial intelligence (AI) that not only kept a running log of all of the things wrong with it but also worked with the maintenance technicians to fix them. Still, he was the shuttle squadron’s commanding officer, and old habits die hard, so he went by the squadron’s maintenance office before going anywhere else.

  “How’s it going?” he asked the master chief sitting behind the desk in Maintenance Control.

  “Not good, sir,” replied the master chief. “All three of our birds need some serious down time. Shuttle 02 in particular needs a major overhaul. It’s AI said that it was turning itself off after its next flight and that it wouldn’t come back online again until we fix some of its issues.”

  “Really?” asked Calvin. “I’ve never heard of a ship doing that before. Do you think it will?”

  “Sir, I’ve been in the aircraft maintenance business for 27 years,” replied the master chief. “I have no idea if it would shut itself off, or even if it could, but I don’t want to find out. I think we should just fix it, and then we wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

  “I agree master chief,” said Calvin, “and I’m happy to tell you that 04 is within an hour or two of completion. When it comes out, you can take 02 off the schedule for maintenance, followed by 01 and then 03.”

  “Sir, that’s great and all,” said the master chief, looking at a monitor that showed the interior of the hangar and the shuttle that now had 25 feet out of the replicator, “but you know that they never work correctly when they come out of the replicator. We’ll be working on it for at least a day or two.”

  “Probably,” replied Calvin. “Do what you can, but don’t fly 02 again until its AI is happy. If anyone on Earth complains, have them comm me.”

  “Thank you sir,” answered the master chief. “That was really starting to worry me.”

  “If it worries you, master chief, it worries me,” said Calvin. “Let me know if you have any other problems.”

  “Aye aye, sir,” the master chief replied.

  JFCC Space Operations Center, Vandenberg AFB, California, December 3, 2019

  “I’ve got gate activation!” cried the airman who monitored the stargate entry system for Strategic Command’s Joint Functional Component Command (JFCC) for Space. “Activation of Stargate #2!”

  “Roger,” replied his supervisor, who knew that #2 was the ‘back door’ out of the Solar System. “Get me an ID on it ASAP!”

  The airman watched his instrumentation carefully, changing the brightness on one of his displays as if that would make it run faster. “It’s the Vella Gulf, sir!” he finally called. “The Vella Gulf’s back!”

  “Stand down all defenses!” ordered the supervisor. “Transmit ‘Welcome home’ to Captain Deutch and his crew, please.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter Two

  Conference Room, DUCC, Washington, DC, December 5, 2019

  President Bill Jacobs surveyed the faces of his cabinet from his position at the head of the large conference table in the Deep Underground Command Center (DUCC). Originally envisioned in 1963, the command center was built to provide a workplace for key decision makers that would be able to survive any attack made on the United States. The command center was built under the West Wing of the White House so that the president and his team could access it at a moment’s notice. It was the most secure facility on the planet, which made it the ideal place to hold strategy sessions. The only people that could penetrate its security were the Psiclopes. The president had already learned that trying to keep them out was just a waste of time, so he no longer bothered. He had nothing to hide from them, anyway, and more important things to do than worry about their spying.

  You could almost tell what the news was going to be just by looking at the faces, Jacobs thought. The Secretary of Defense talked in an animated manner with the Treasury Secretary. Obviously the Defense Department had something ‘new and vital’ that the Secretary of Defense needed to come up with funding for. Commerce and the Interior were in a heated argument over something, probably the opening of yet another mine in a national park somewhere. The Secretary of Energy looked guarded as he talked with Labor; it looked like both good news and bad news from both of them. All of his cabinet was in attendance; the Speaker of the House, the President pro tempore of the Senate and Lieutenant Commander Hobbs were also attending in an ex officio status. He nodded to the vice president, seated to his left, who called the meeting to order.

  “If I could have everyone’s attention,” said the vice president in a loud voice, “we’ll get this going. We have a lot to talk about, and the president thought that it would be good to have everyone in attendance.” He paused and looked at his notes. “It’s been six months since the Vella Gulf got back from its first mission. While there’s been a lot accomplished in that time, there remains a tremendous amount left to do. If an alien race invaded right now, we would not be prepared to stop it.”

  It was a harsh statement, but the president knew it was true. A little over a year previously, three aliens had made their presence on Earth known to Lieutenant Commander (LCDR) Shawn ‘Calvin’ Hobbs, who had just led a platoon that helped repulse a Chinese invasion of Seattle and Tacoma. The aliens told him that their communications link back to their home world had stopped working, and they needed help to find out what had happened. Believing that a hostile race was responsible for the outage, they had tried to find an alternate route to their home world rather than face a presumably superior force.

  President Jacobs had agreed to furnish a crew for the aliens’ space ship, as well as a platoon of soldiers and the personnel needed to man the ship’s six fighters. He had also recruited some of the United States’ allies in the recently completed war to go along on the mission. The aliens had asked to have Calvin lead both the platoon and the fighter squadron but would not say why; most assumed that it was because he had led a number of successful operations during the war, but no one was sure. The aliens had so far refused to give the United States most of their advanced technology, saying that their society had rules that forbid technology transfer unless the world had a unified planetary government.

  Although the mission had not been successful in reaching the Psiclopes’ home world or bringing back a replicator big enough to build battle fleet-sized space ships, they had returned with a Class 2 replicator that could build fighter-sized craft, as well as new laser technology. The Earth was stronger, but not strong enough.

  President Jacobs’ list of things to do included little thi
ngs like forming a world government, getting politicians to rewrite centuries-old documents and stopping an alien invasion without the tools and technology necessary to do so. Oh, yeah, he also had to win an election in order to remain president, too, which involved campaigning, kissing babies and holding fundraisers...all of which took away time from doing the really important things.

  “This is not a working session,” continued the vice president. “If we try to solve every issue that we have at the moment, we’d be here for weeks.” The president heard other lengths of time mentioned around the table. ‘Years’ was the most common, followed by ‘decades, if ever.’ “Just give a progress report and note any issues that require presidential decisions.” He looked around the large table to ensure that everyone understood. “OK,” he said, looking to the woman at his left, “first up is State.”

  As the person tasked with setting up the new world government, the president knew that the Secretary of State, Isabel Maggiano, had a lot that she was working on. “For those of you that haven’t heard yet, the Vella Gulf just returned from its trip to Epsilon Eridani.” The president knew that the ship had been badly damaged in a fight with an alien battlecruiser on its first mission, and that the quick trip to Epsilon Eridani had been taken as a ‘shakedown cruise’ to see how well its repairs would hold. “Its commanding officer said that it performed well on the journey. What you may not have heard is that the Epsilon Eridanians have formed a world government of their own and have petitioned for entry into the ‘Terran Alliance.’”

  The secretary smiled wryly at the variety of comments she heard. “Apparently it is easier to form a government when there are only two nations that have to agree. Ambassador Flowers has been very busy. Not only did he get them to work out their differences, but also he helped them establish a unified government. Similar to the way we call our planet ‘Terra,’ they are now calling their planet ‘Domus,’ which is the Latin word for ‘home.’ Ambassador Flowers was able to keep them from sending their ambassador to the Terran world government this time, but he said that the next time the Vella Gulf comes through, we should be prepared to receive her. Hopefully, there will actually be a Terran world government by then.”

  Maggiano shook her head. “Maybe this will help push things along with the nations to get the world government implemented. We currently have a draft constitution and bill of rights in place, but the devil is in the details, and we are continuing to hammer them out. I was just told yesterday by the Russian envoy that they would consider participating if one of their officers could have the executive officer position on the Vella Gulf the next time it goes out.” She looked at the president for guidance on the request.

  The president saw Calvin’s hand go up but waved him off. “I am reluctant to grant them anything like this,” said the president, who knew it was more of a ‘demand’ than a ‘request.’ “If we give in at the start, they’ll always expect special treatment. Still, we need Russia’s support, for a number of reasons. Please let them know officially that we really want their participation, but we can’t guarantee any military postings, as those are made by a joint body of officers. Unofficially, you can tell them that if they join the government now, in full good faith, their officer will have the United States’ vote, as well as everyone else that we can convince.” That must have been good enough, the president saw, because Calvin put his hand back down.

  “OK,” said the vice president. “Next up, Treasury.”

  “I don’t think that we are going to be able to make the target of spending 30% of our gross domestic product (GDP) on defense this year,” he advised. “There were just too many other priorities that we already had to fund. Going forward, though, we ought to be able to meet the target as we shift around some of our spending. With everyone now expected to work, we should be able to cut some of the federal assistance programs, which will make a big difference. We are also going to reclassify some of the spending that we are doing that is related to defense, like opening new mines, under the category of ‘defense spending.’” He nodded. “We’ll get there next year.”

  The president also nodded; he had been briefed on that earlier. “Good, thanks,” he said.

  “Defense?” asked the vice president.

  “We’re proceeding across a wide variety of fronts,” replied the Secretary of Defense. “With regard to our immediate security, we have mined the two stargates into the Solar System. Heavily. We estimate that any ship that is battleship-sized or smaller will be instantly destroyed, as well as several more after that, depending on their size. We are continuing to develop additional types of defenses for the stargates. If we don’t stop them there, we have little hope of stopping them.” Once again, the president nodded. Nothing new there.

  “As far as future operations go,” the Secretary of Defense continued, “we are still expecting to send the Vella Gulf back out in seven months. We have got to get either a replicator that can build ships, or find an ally to sell us some. We need to develop a fleet before the Drakuls show up.” Most heads around the table nodded; several secretaries that stood to lose money to Defense looked less than thrilled.

  That was the big question, the president knew. When would the Drakuls show up? As they were 10’ tall bloodsucking frogs, the president hoped the answer was never; however, the Psiclopes had said that they thought the Drakuls were close by and moving in the Earth’s direction. Time was running out.

  “When the Gulf goes out, it will also have a more integrated crew,” the Secretary of Defense added. “The executive officer of the ship on its last cruise will be promoted to commanding officer. LCDR Hobbs will remain in charge of both the space fighter squadron and attached special forces platoon. We are hoping to have a full squadron of space fighters this time, including six with the new laser technology that we got on the last mission. That will make them more capable, although they will still be a relatively ‘light’ force if they run into a group of bigger combatants.” Defense nodded to the vice president. He was finished.

  “DOJ?” asked the vice president.

  “We’re working a number of issues,” noted Mark Keely, the Attorney General who led the Department of Justice. “First, we’re following the progress of a number of constitutional challenges to the governmental changes we’re making. Some of these have merit, so we’ll have to address them.” He looked at the Speaker of the House and the President pro tempore of the Senate. “Ultimately, we’re probably going to need a constitutional amendment in order for the U.S. to become part of the Terran Government.” Both men nodded.

  Looking around the table, he could see some blank looks, so he added, “A proposal for an amendment to the Constitution requires either a two-thirds majority vote in both the House of Representatives and the Senate, or a constitutional convention called for by two-thirds of the State legislatures. In our history, no amendment has ever been proposed by constitutional convention, so that’s unlikely. Once Congress proposes an amendment, it goes to each of the states for their consideration and ratification. We need it to be ratified by three-fourths of the states, or 38 of the 50. Once ratified, it gets signed into the Constitution.” He paused. “It is the opinion of Justice that this process should be initiated as soon as possible, while public opinion is still in favor of a world government. If we wait for all of the coming court battles, it’s possible that some of the dialogue in the process will make the amendment’s passage more difficult. We can delay the court cases for a while, but not indefinitely.”

  Both the Speaker of the House and the President pro tempore of the Senate nodded. The Speaker said, “We understand our part in this process, and that this is the only way for us to survive as a race. While we both have some personal reservations about the integration of our nation into an overarching body where we have a loss of sovereignty, we agree that it must be done. We will begin working this afternoon to develop a quorum to get the amendment through Congress. After that, it will be up to the president and state legislatures.�
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  “Understood,” replied the Attorney General. “In conjunction with the Department of Homeland Security, we are also working on a reduction in crime and terrorism. As our new programs come online, there are going to be many organized crime syndicates and other less-than-honest individuals looking to take advantage of the situation. We intend to ask the AI on the Vella Gulf to point out where criminal activity is occurring and root it out. We don’t need to authorize any wire taps because we will not be involved in any illegal surveillance.” He could see concern on the faces of many people sitting around the table. “We have been looking at the legality of this, and there is no legislation on the use of extraterrestrial artificial intelligences in crime prosecution. We expect that Congress will need to address this going forward, but we intend to do what we can in the interim.”

  “Perhaps it might be good to give the country advance notice that you are going to do that,” remarked the President pro tempore of the Senate. A long-time veteran of the political process, he not only knew where bodies were buried, he had a few of his own that he wanted to make sure stayed buried. “That way, people that have been operating in any ‘gray’ areas can make sure that everything they are involved in is above board.”

  “I already did that,” replied the president in a no-nonsense tone of voice, “when I welcomed the Psiclopes to our planet.” He thought about it a moment and then relented. “But you’re right,” he conceded; “we should probably give people a little notice so that they can ensure the legitimacy of what they’re doing.” He remembered a certain land purchase he had been considering and made a mental note to cancel the deal after the meeting. Can’t be too careful, he decided.