Theogony 3: Terra Stands Alone

by Chris Kennedy

  Calvin looked at the end of the table where the Fleet Command leaders and the commanding officer of the Vella Gulf sat. “If I can make this happen,” he said, “Steropes is going to want to come with us on the trip to meet with the Archons. I want him to come; I think his experience will be extremely valuable.”

  Now the Terran heads were shaking, too. Everyone in the room had bad experiences with the Psiclopes. He tried again. “I’ve been in combat with him,” said Calvin, “and I know him better than anyone. He says that he wants to help us, and I believe him. He’s even willing to tell us about all of the shady deals Arges is currently putting together. I want to bring him, and I will personally vouch for him.”

  Admiral Wright had come to rely on Calvin’s judgment. It had served him well during the war, and he knew that Calvin was an excellent judge of people. While the admiral didn’t believe the rumor going around that Calvin was the reborn spirit of the Greek god Zeus, he knew that Calvin was often in the center of things when they went to shit, and had always come through them smelling of roses. If Calvin thought that the little bastard was salvageable, Steropes could go with him. At least that meant there was one fewer Psiclopes in the Solar System, which made his own life easier. “OK,” said Admiral Wright. “If he can convince the Chinese to join the world government, and you want to vouch for him, he can go.”

  “Thank you sir,” said Calvin. “I’ll get right on it.” He turned to leave.

  “Calvin?” asked Admiral Wright.

  “Yes sir?” asked Calvin, turning around.

  “I hope you know what you’re doing,” said Admiral Wright.

  “Yes sir,” said Calvin. “Me too.” He turned and left. If nothing else, Calvin thought, at least it gets me out of this meeting.

  Transporter Room, TSS Vella Gulf, Earth Orbit, December 11, 2020

  “Thanks for joining me,” said Calvin as Steropes beamed in. He had been waiting for the Psiclops to join him in the Vella Gulf’s transporter room. The room was a circular space about 25 feet in diameter. It had a raised platform with 12 circular metal plates covering about 2/3 of it and a control console on the right as you entered the room.

  “No problem,” replied Steropes, stepping off the platform. “It’s good to be back on the Vella Gulf again.”

  “As it turns out,” said Calvin, “the meeting went down pretty much as you thought it would. They are going to send the Vella Gulf to the home world of the Archons.”

  “Archonis,” said Steropes.

  “What?” asked Calvin.

  “Archonis is the home world of the Archons,” said Steropes. “That is where their capital is.”

  “Oh,” said Calvin. “I guess that’s where we’re going then.”

  “Will I be allowed to come?” asked Steropes.

  “That is still to be determined,” replied Calvin. “I’ll be honest with you; there are a lot of people that don’t want you around.”

  “That is understandable,” acknowledged Steropes, “although I wasn’t the one responsible for most of the things of which the Psiclopes have been accused. It is all guilt by association.”

  “Be that as it may,” replied Calvin, “the sentiment remains. I did, however, get them to give you a chance. If you can help me with one thing, you’ll be allowed to accompany us.”

  “What is the one thing?” asked Steropes. “Slay a dragon? Storm a castle? I’ve done those things, but not in a couple thousand years, so I’m probably a little rusty.”

  “No,” answered Calvin. “Nothing like that.” Maybe the Psiclops did understand sarcasm, after all. “I’m hoping that combat won’t be necessary...although there is a chance that it might if we screw this up. The Terran government wants China to join up.”

  “Really?” asked Steropes. “Let me guess. You are short of some element and want China to join because they have it?”

  “Well, resources are certainly part of the reason why,” admitted Calvin. “It would also be nice to have their billion inhabitants working with us. If we’re going to be overrun shortly, we need everyone we can get. We especially need the Chinese. Can you help with this or not?”

  “Of course I can help,” replied Steropes. “The Psiclopes caused this problem; it is only right that we fix it. It may actually be easier than you think to fix. May I use the transporter a moment or two? There is something I need to get.”

  “Umm, sure, I guess,” said Calvin. “Why are you asking me?”

  “Because I am currently banned from using the transporter, by order of the Vella Gulf’s commanding officer,” replied Steropes. “I need someone to authorize me to use it again.”

  “That is true,” said Solomon, the Vella Gulf’s AI. “He is currently prohibited from using the transporter without authorization. I only transported Steropes up because you said it was all right.”

  “Solomon, I have authorization from Admiral Wright to accomplish this task,” said Calvin. “Steropes is authorized to use the transporter.”

  “Thank you,” Steropes said. He went back over to the transport platform and stood on one of the grids. After a couple of seconds, he appeared to stretch toward the ceiling and then vanished.

  Calvin waited a couple of minutes, but nothing happened.

  He waited another couple of minutes, wondering if he had made a mistake by granting Steropes complete access to the transporter. If he had gone somewhere unauthorized and was into mischief...

  “Hey, umm, Solomon...where’d he go?” Calvin finally asked.

  “Steropes is currently in Nepal,” replied Solomon. “I believe there is a cave high up in the Himalayas that the Psiclopes use to store their items. He is returning.”

  On the transporter platform, one of the grids appeared active. A smear appeared that initially went from floor to ceiling, but coalesced into Steropes, holding a bundle wrapped in plastic. He took off the plastic to reveal a very normal-looking briefcase.

  “What is that?” Calvin asked.

  “It’s a briefcase,” Steropes replied. “It’s also the answer to your problem. If you would please join me here on the platform?”

  “Wait,” said Calvin. “We’re not beaming somewhere, are we? I can’t beam, can I? I haven’t been surveyed or scanned or whatever it is. Fleet Command said that no one was to beam until we got scanned, so that we didn’t lose anyone unnecessarily.” When the Terrans had first taken control of the Vella Gulf, the Psiclopes had told them that a person needed to be surveyed by some sort of molecular scanner prior to using the transporter. That ensured the person being transported would be reassembled correctly at the other end of the trip and would end up where he was supposed to be. Too high and you would fall to the floor; too low and your body would become mixed with the ground. If you ended up beaming into a space that held an object, it would become part of your body. All of these were painful; most of them were also fatal.

  “Well, yes, it would be better if we had done that first,” said Steropes, “but the chances of something bad happening are less than 1%. The Psiclopes have made this trip on a number of occasions, so it is pretty safe. Unless you’re really, really unlucky, everything will be fine. Do you want to get this done, or not?”

  “I’ve got a bad feeling,” said Calvin. He stepped onto the platform and walked over to the pad indicated by Steropes. “Are you sure about this?”

  “I’m almost positive,” said Steropes with a smile.

  “Almost?” Calvin asked as he stepped onto the grid.

  “Initiate,” said Steropes. Calvin felt stretched...

  President’s Bedroom, Beijing, China, December 11, 2020

  ...and then he was in a bedroom, judging by the snoring, although it was hard to tell in the dark. “Damn it,” Calvin said as he fell six inches to the floor.

  “See?” asked Steropes. “Nothing to it. Unless you were really unlucky, nothing bad was going to happen.”

  There was a grunt close by. The snoring stopped, and a light turned on. Calvin saw that he was indeed i
n a bedroom, a very ornate and well-appointed one. “What is the meaning of this?” a voice asked in Chinese. A man sat up in the bed. Calvin recognized him. The man was Jiang Jiabao, the President of the People’s Republic of China.

  Seeing Steropes, the man yelled, “You!” in a very loud voice.

  Steropes quickly said, “Yes, we would like to talk to you privately.” He held up the briefcase. “I have the pictures for you.”

  Someone began beating on the door. “Are you all right, Mr. President?” a voice asked.

  The president hopped out of bed and walked quickly to the door. He motioned Calvin and Steropes to move to where they couldn’t be seen, and then he opened the door, just as the armed guard outside was opening it with a key.

  “I am fine,” said the president. “I was just having a bad dream. I will probably watch TV for a little while to relax before going back to sleep. Good night.” He closed the door and locked it. Reaching up, he turned on what looked like a genuine Mrowry Tri-D TV that was mounted on the wall. They may have withdrawn from politics, but their espionage network still seemed to be functioning quite well, Calvin noted. The president turned and motioned for Calvin and Steropes to join him next to it.

  “Those are my pictures?” he asked Steropes.

  “Yes,” agreed Steropes. “All of them.”

  “And what do I have to do this time?” the president asked.

  “Wait a minute,” said Calvin. “What is this? Blackmail?”

  “Yes,” answered the president, “they have been blackmailing me. You expect me to believe that you weren’t part of it? Wait! I recognize you. You are the American hero that stopped the attack. Of course! You’re in on it.”

  “No, Mr. President, I was completely unaware of this before now,” replied Calvin. “I was just at a meeting of the Terran government, and we need your nation to join us if we are to have a chance of defending our world. There are aliens coming that will destroy us all. I knew you were deceived into attacking the United States, and that the Psiclopes had something to do with it. I asked Steropes if he might know of a way to get you to join the Terran Federation. He said that he did, and then he beamed us here, but he has yet to tell me why.”

  “Arges was blackmailing him,” said Steropes. He turned to the president. “I never knew what leverage Arges had over you Mr. President, but something he said to me after we were banned from the Vella Gulf got me thinking. He said something like, ‘well, I can still make the Chinese dance,’ or something like that, so I knew he had something. It wasn’t hard to figure out what, once I asked the Vella Gulf’s AI a couple of questions. Personally, I am sorry he did this to you.” He handed the president the briefcase.

  “Don’t you want me to promise to join before you give me this?” the president asked. “What are you not telling me?”

  “I am not hiding anything,” answered Steropes. “I am here to right a wrong that was done to you. I can’t make what Arges did right, but I can at least remove the hold he had over you.”

  “So I am free to choose to join or not, as I alone decide?” asked the president.

  “Yes,” said Steropes, “although I hope you will choose to join. The need is dire. We expect the planet to be overrun sometime within the next six months.”

  “Then we had better get moving,” said the president, tossing the briefcase onto the bed. “Although we withdrew politically, we have kept tabs on what was going on, and we are aware of the Drakul menace. We knew that you would need us eventually, and have been mining and storing all of the raw materials we could. I knew that one day the need would be terrible enough that you would come to us; I wanted to be prepared for that day.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to have any thulium,” Calvin asked, “would you?”

  “That is one of the so-called ‘rare Earth elements?” the president asked.

  “Yes, it is,” Calvin replied.

  “Then we should have at least a ton of it,” the president answered. “We have at least a ton of all of them. There’s just one thing.”

  Calvin’s eyes narrowed. “What’s one more thing?”

  “I will give you all of these things,” the president responded, “and we will join the world government, but I want one thing in return. I know that you are about to leave on a mission. I want my son to be part of it. He has about 2,500 hours of flight time in tactical jets. I think he would make a nice addition to your squadron.”

  “Umm, I don’t have any say in that,” Calvin replied. “All of the manning is done by a selection board.”

  “You were able to get the government to let Steropes go along with you,” the president said with what could only be called a sly grin. “I think you ought to be able to get Fang in, as well. See what you can do. I would hate for all of the thulium we have stockpiled to go to waste.”

  Transporter Room, TSS Vella Gulf, Earth Orbit, December 11, 2020

  “Damn it!” Calvin swore as he fell a foot to the floor of the transporter room. “This shit’s no fun. I’d almost rather take a shuttle than beam someplace if I’m going to fall every time I transport.”

  “Sorry about that,” Steropes replied. “I asked Solomon to aim a foot high. Better you fall a little bit than materialize too low. Until you get surveyed, it was just a good precaution.”

  “Wait a minute,” Calvin said, “You told him to aim a foot high? I only fell about six inches when we beamed down. If I’d have materialized a foot lower...”

  “It would have been really painful,” answered Steropes. “Good thing you weren’t really unlucky today, isn’t it?”

  “Fuck!” swore Calvin. “That’s not funny. You could have killed me!”

  “It was very unlikely,” Steropes replied. “Solomon’s beamings are within a foot of ‘on target’ in 99.3% of transits. You were fine. Besides, we needed to do it.”

  “We did,” Calvin agreed. “But next time, how about telling me, so that I at least have a say in whether or not I kill myself?” Calvin asked.

  * * * * *

  Chapter Four

  Bridge, TSS Vella Gulf, Earth Orbit, December 13, 2020

  “Hey Skipper,” Calvin said. “What’s going on? I just heard that we’re not leaving on time.”

  “That’s true,” said Captain James Sheppard, the commanding officer of the Vella Gulf. Recently promoted to captain, he had also been named the ship’s permanent commanding officer. Sheppard had returned from the last mission as the ship’s acting commanding officer, a position he assumed when all of the officers senior to him left to take command of the newly acquired, larger ships. “We were just starting our final checks when we got word from Fleet Command that we needed to wait for the shuttle that’s coming up. They also said that we would need to take on additional fuel, but neither message said where it was coming from, nor where we were supposed to put it, since our bunkers are already full. I guess we’ll find out when the shuttle gets here.”

  “I wasn’t aware there was a shuttle coming,” Calvin replied. As the squadron commander for the ship’s space fighters and shuttles, normally he was aware of all of the flights into or out of the Vella Gulf. He mentally checked the daily flight schedule again. Nope, not there. “The flight isn’t on the flight schedule. When is it due in? Where’s it coming from?”

  “I don’t know where it’s coming from,” Captain Sheppard replied. “I wasn’t told. But it should be here soon.”

  “Solomon,” Calvin said, “can you tell me the point of origin for the shuttle that is coming?”

  “My sensors show that it left from the area of Alice Springs, Australia,” replied the AI, “however my records do not show a facility of any kind in that area.”

  “Hmmm...,” said Captain Sheppard. “I’ve heard rumors about–”

  “The shuttle is here,” advised Solomon, before Captain Sheppard could say anything else. He looked over to see a faraway look in Calvin’s eyes as he communicated with someone via implant.

  “The shuttle only had one pers
on on it,” reported Calvin. “The squadron said the lieutenant’s name is Peter Finn. Apparently, he’s some kind of special combat systems engineer that brought something up for us. The lieutenant has asked if the senior officers would meet him in your conference room for some sort of presentation.”

  CO’s Conference Room, TSS Vella Gulf, Earth Orbit, December 13, 2020

  Calvin and Captain Sheppard walked into the conference room to find the lieutenant already there, which was surprising because he had about four times the distance to travel. As the lieutenant turned around, Calvin could only think of one word. Nerd. He was medium height with dark hair slightly longer than regulations permitted, and he had thick-rimmed glasses that would probably have worked better at birth control than condoms. If he had seen the Sun in the last decade or so, it wasn’t apparent from the pallor of his skin. He also looked like he was about 16 years old, far too young to be in uniform, much less a lieutenant.

  Before either could say anything, the lieutenant walked over and stuck out his hand to Calvin. His walk was weird, Calvin noted, almost like he was dragging his right foot. “Good afternoon, Lieutenant Commander Hobbs,” he said, his speech faster than normal. “It is such a pleasure to meet you. I have read all of your reports. Very exciting. Did you really kill the god Quetzalcoatl with a spear? Of course you did. It was in the report. You have always had access to the best and newest equipment, so it was really surprising that you used a spear to kill him. I wish that I could have been with you when you first met the aliens. It must have been really cool to be the first person to get to use alien technology.”

  “Who’s the new guy?” asked army captain Paul ‘Night’ Train, walking into the room. Night was the XO of the special forces platoon that Calvin commanded, in addition to his job of being the Gulf’s squadron commander.