by Dean M. Cole
"That was before the Air Force split from the Army. Roswell Army Airfield was home to the Five-Oh-Ninth Bomber Group. It was an elite air wing and at the time the only nuclear-armed military unit in the world."
"Also, it was only a hundred and ten miles from Trinity, the test-site where we detonated our first nukes," Richard said.
"Go figure," Jake said. "No wonder that was their first stop."
Tannehill continued. "The story has been altered and bastardized. However, many of the fundamental parts are true. The ship and its impact debris were collected. After several moves and several years, it ended up in an Area Fifty-One hangar."
"Is it still there?"
"No, it was eventually returned to the Argonians."
"But, wait, Roswell happened in nineteen forty-seven," Jake said. "I thought you said we got their attention in forty-five."
"You're right, Captain. The Argonian's drive technology allows them to travel significantly faster than light, and their zero-width wormholes allow instant galactic-wide communications. However, the signals their passive sensors listen for are limited to the speed of light."
A storm of dissociated points of light swirled overhead. After a moment, they coalesced into the Milky Way Galaxy. Bent over the keyboard, the general tapped out another command. Standing, he pointed into the twenty-foot-wide hologram as the tide of green dots spread through the image again. "Even with more than a million equally spaced sensors, they are still a thousand light-years apart."
"A thousand light-years?" Jake said in a dubious tone. Standing to his full six feet, his head was immersed in the hologram. As the slowly rotating galactic plane slid past, he eyed the spacing of the sensor grid with open skepticism. "I'm sorry, sir, but that doesn't look like it could be anywhere close to a thousand light-years."
Walking toward the far side of the room, General Tannehill smiled and pulled a laser pointer from a shirt pocket. Activating it, he placed a red dot on the wall behind Jake. "Move to the outer edge, Captain."
With a final skeptical look at the grid floating through his vision, Jake ducked out of the hologram. He stepped to its far side and stood opposite the general. Through the translucent brilliance of the rendering, he could just make out the man's face.
Without turning it on, Tannehill lifted the laser to eye-level and aimed it at Jake's face. "Okay, Captain, I just fired my laser light at you."
There still wasn't any light coming from the device. Jake saw the general's point immediately. "You're saying that it would take a long time for the light to travel across the galaxy."
General Tannehill nodded and turned on the laser pointer. "A very long time. In the real galaxy, that light would take one hundred thousand years to travel from me to you." With his opposite hand, he ran a finger through a region of the hologram that looked like flowing sand. "Every pixel of this glowing dust is actually a star separated from its closest neighbor by light-years of empty space."
Nodding, Jake stared in stunned comprehension. None of it was new information. However, the general's practical demonstration slammed home the galaxy's scale in a way raw numbers never had. "So, it could have taken up to five hundred years for them to detect us."
The general grinned. "Yep, it was pure happenstance that a sensor was less than two light-years from our solar system."
As they moved back to their chairs, Jake gave the general a contrite expression. "Sorry for the skepticism, sir."
Tannehill waved it off. "You're not the first person I've given that little demonstration." Sitting down, he studied the table's embedded computer screen. "Where were we?"
"I think you were about to tell me what happened to the remaining Argonian scout ship?"
"That's right," the general said, leaning back in his chair. "It made first contact with the US military."
"With the military? Why not the government, sir?"
The general shrugged. "It's been their policy for thousands of years. They say it reduces the possibility of a hostile reception."
Jake considered it and nodded. "Guess it's better to talk to the armed husband at the front door before trying to sell his wife an encyclopedia set."
"Pretty much," General Tannehill agreed.
"So, what were they trying to sell to the wife?"
"As I mentioned, our galaxy has tens of thousands of worlds inhabited by thousands of species. The Argonians were the first star travelers. So, over the millennia, they've helped hundreds of species, at varying levels of technological development, make the transition to star-faring status. Through trial and error, they established a regimented process of first contact and integration. This process allows newly discovered societies to be smoothly integrated into the galactic community while minimizing the short-term cultural and economic impact."
"In spite of our being the same race, they decided to follow the same procedure for our induction into the galactic government and economy. The entire process is slated to take seventy-five Earth years. For us, that clock started around 1950. The technological advances scheduled for the next decade will make the last sixty years seem trivial by comparison."
Obviously well versed in the details of the briefing, the general continued with a practiced ease. "The coming years will see the introduction of game-changing technologies. The biggest effects will be in the medical, communications, and energy sectors. Additionally, there will be more and more hints of the existence of extraterrestrial life."
"All of this is designed so that, by the time the world becomes aware of the existence of aliens, we will have advanced enough to reduce the cultural shock," the general concluded.
"Why such a long process?" Jake asked. "Humanity is resilient. Surely they don't think we'll fall into anarchy the first time CNN televises a UFO landing in Central Park."
The general nodded in understanding. "They have to consider all of the potential ramifications of early disclosure. Initially, their first contact efforts garnered everything from smooth transitions, to global civil wars. Over the subsequent millennia, they fine-tuned the process. Several factors determine the length of the transition. If our world economy had been globally aligned and if energy trading weren't such an integral part of it, we would've had a shorter transition. Energy is the biggest sector of our global economy. Just imagine what would happen to the world markets if free energy was dropped on our doorstep tomorrow."
Jake nodded in understanding. "The millions of jobs and billions of dollars tied into all the steps between oil exploration, drilling, production, and distribution of petroleum products would be lost overnight."
"Exactly, and that's just one part—albeit a very big part—of the world economy. While seventy-five years sounds exceedingly long to us, when you consider it from their position and timescale, it's a blink of the eye."
"So, what happened back in the forties when they told the US leadership about the galactic government and the seventy-five year process?" Jake asked.
"Initially, there was a lot of reluctance and skepticism. Our military commanders were especially concerned with the requirement to include all of Earth's significant governments, especially the Soviets. The Argonians explained that the galactic economy was a hybrid of capitalism and socialism based on free trade. They also told them the process of bringing us into the fold would require a gradual transition of all Earth governments to a compatible economy."
"In other words, they were proposing changes that weren't going to be popular anywhere," Jake said.
"Pretty much," General Tannehill agreed. "In January of nineteen forty-eight, the heads of state for all of Earth's significant countries were brought together and briefed by the commander of the remaining scout ship. The seventy-five year time-line and the reasons for it were laid out."
"As I'm sure you can imagine, there were serious objections from the communist nations. The scout commander pointed out that governments that chose to exclude themselves from the process would also be excluding themselves from the opportunities and techno
logies that would be realized during the undertaking. The communist delegations declined the invitation, insisting their superior governments and economies would achieve these goals on their own. They refused to be any part of it. Over the following decades, as the cold war continued and the West prospered in the face of the failure of communism, the abstaining governments slowly came around."
Jake nodded. "So, over the last couple of decades, we've witnessed the transition," he said. Raising a hand, he counted off the steps with his fingers. "First the fall of the Soviet Union, followed by the gradual transition of the Chinese economy, and then by the formation of the European Union and the United States' gradual increase in social programs—regardless of which party was in power."
"Yep, you're connecting the dots. Today all of Earth's significant countries are in the loop. We're well on the road to Galactic Government integration," concluded the general.
"Thank you, sir. That definitely answers a lot of my questions," Jake said, looking at both of his friends, then focused on Lieutenant Croft. "It's damned good to see you alive and well, Lieutenant."
Victor squirmed under the attention. "You're telling me," he finally managed as he stared down at the desk.
That reminded Jake of another bothersome issue. He turned back to General Tannehill. "Actually, sir, there is one more thing. I don't understand why the ship caused problems with our fighters. If it could interfere with our aircraft, why didn't they keep their distance?"
Richard nodded. "I got this, sir," he said. "The Argonians use a gravity drive and inertial dampening system. It generates a field that simultaneously moves all matter within its effective range. The field's envelope extends several meters outside of the ship. Since all of the molecules within it move together, any object or person within the field won't feel G-forces or acceleration. For instance, the reason you feel g-forces as your Corvette accelerates from zero to sixty in three point five seconds is due to Newton's Law of Inertia. The molecules in your chest want to stay in place while the molecules in your back are being pushed forward by the power of the engine. Now imagine you could pull all of those molecules simultaneously, there would be no compression due to inertia. You would literally feel no g-forces at all."
Sitting back, Jake envisioned the ship plowing through the atmosphere, trying to visualize its effect on the surrounding air. "That explains the buffeting Vic's F-22 experienced as the ship closed in. Since the effect extends beyond the ship's external skin, there must be a pocket of air dragged along by the ship's drive. When it got too close to Vic's wing, it lost lift, causing it to stall out."
"Makes for one hell-of-a rough ride," Lieutenant Croft said.
"Yeah, but that brings me back to my original question, knowing this, why would the Argonian pilot allow his ship to get close enough to cause problems?"
"I'll take this one, Captain," General Tannehill said. He nodded to Jake and Vic with a contrite expression. "Quite frankly, gentlemen, we screwed up, and by we I mean I." He tapped another string of commands into the keyboard. Leaning back in his seat, the general continued. "There was a meeting scheduled with the Argonians that morning. We have F-22s assigned as escorts. They are shielded against the gravity drive's effect."
A hologram of an F-22 flying in formation with an Argonian ship materialized over the table. Rendered as a magenta fog, a bubble of energy completely encapsulated the Argonian ship just as Jake had envisioned. As it neared the holographic F-22, pulsing concentric arcs radiated from two points on the side of the fighter. They appeared to blow back the gravity drive's effect, creating a concave dimple in the Argonian ship's bubble.
Tannehill continued. "Unfortunately, due to a simple scheduling error—an error I failed to catch—the assigned F-22s were late for the meet up. The same error allowed you and Vic to be vectored into the area designated for the rendezvous. When the Argonian commander detected your fighters, he mistook you as his escort to the meeting location."
Richard chimed in. "The shielding is also necessary for your electronics. The gravity field affects your electrical lines and equipment much like a spinning, hugely powerful magnet. The gravitonic flux lines cut across unshielded lines in a way that drains all electricity."
Jake nodded to Richard and turned to Tannehill. "Thank you for your frankness, General. So, where do we sign up?"
"Excuse me?"
Jake spread his arms wide, palms up. "It seems to me, you could have forgone all of this, sworn us to secrecy, shipped us off to Iceland, and written the whole thing off. So, sir, I'm thinking you have something better planned for us."
"Captain Allison told me you were a smart fella."
"Actually, I told him you were a pretty fart smeller." Richard quipped.
Following hours of weighty discussion, Richard's joke brought a welcome levity.
As the laughter settled, General Tannehill continued. "Captain Allison's assertion notwithstanding, I do believe we have a place for the two of you in our program. If you'd be so inclined."
CHAPTER SIX
"Commodore Salyth, charge the weapon, and prepare to drop the ship out of parallel-space," growled Lord Thrakst.
"As you command, Lord," the younger officer replied. Raising from an inadequate half-bow, Thrakst's second-in-command forwarded the orders to the appropriate stations.
Pretending to ignore the slight, Thrakst impatiently stared into the main display. Ahead, their light curved into a sphere by the parallel-space drive's faster-than-light velocity, the compressed star field shone with the brilliance of a million suns. Without the ship's shielding and light filters, the hard radiation streaming from the sphere would incinerate flesh and char the naked bones to dust in seconds. Outside of that ball of light, all was black. As they burned their way into Argonian space at superluminal speed, they traveled too fast for the light of the stars abreast and astern of their position to reach them. Illuminated by the light ahead, only the other ships of his fleet broke the impenetrable inky void.
Agitated, Thrakst dug a razor-sharp talon into the damp rough rock armrest of his black-stone throne. The design and atmosphere of the hollowed-out iron asteroids that formed the ship mimicked the damp interior of their home world cave dwellings. The environmental control system maintained the humidity level at one hundred percent. However, even the constant sound of dripping water that echoed through the spaceship's interior brought Thrakst no comfort.
A low, rumbling growl rattled deep in the chest of the ancient warrior posted on his right. The wizened old Zoxyth was Raja Phascyre, Lord Thrakst's most trusted advisor and oldest friend.
The lord's razor sharp scaled lips parted in a toothy grin. His pointed black tongue danced across silver fangs. In a hissing voice backed by a deep rumble that originated from the same depths as his confidant's growl, Thrakst spoke in words only the Raja could hear. "What is it, Phascyre?"
The Raja's scarred arm rose. In menacing agitation, the old warrior's razor sharp sickle-shaped dewclaw talon repeatedly slid in and out of his forearm. Extending a grizzled finger at Commodore Salyth, Phascyre turned to face Thrakst. "That one thinks his time draws near."
Thrakst regarded the remaining eye of his old friend's mutilated face. It burned with anger. Having sworn a life-oath to protect the lord, Phascyre looked ready to attack the young Commodore. Even the polished rock he'd bolted into the socket of his gouged out right eye appeared to scowl. In spite of his age, the Raja was second only to Thrakst in size and physical stature. Turning to scowl at the commodore, Raja Phascyre's eye slits narrowed. "My Lord, let me take the hatchling down a notch."
Thrakst's grin widened. "Do not worry, old friend. I can handle this one." He paused with a deep low laugh. "Actually, he reminds me of myself."
"Yes, exactly," Phascyre said. He turned his sole eye on Thrakst. A toothy smile parted the old warrior's scaled lips. "So, let us not forget how you rose to this station."
Thrakst wrapped the thumb and three-talons of his right hand around the Raja's upper left ar
m and pulled him down to a knee. He gripped the old warrior so tightly, the dagger tips of Thrakst's steel reinforced talons pricked green blood. "I never forget, old friend."
Phascyre bowed his head deeply. "Forgive me, my Lord."
Releasing his arm, Thrakst gave the warrior a respectful nod and gestured toward Salyth. "The day I stop heeding your words will be the day that hatchling deserves this seat." He tapped steel-tipped talons on the throne's damp rock surface, depositing small drops of Phascyre's green blood.
Paying no heed to the fresh wounds, the Raja nodded and stood.
Leaning back into his black throne, the huge and menacing Zoxyth Lord scanned the bridge of the dark warship, Tidor Drof. It was dark times in the Zoxyth Empire. The recent radical reversal of fortunes had the High Council questioning Thrakst's decision to press the battle beyond Zoxyth space.
In the early days, their war to purge the Argonian infestation had succeeded beyond all expectations. After their original successes, the Zoxyth High Council had pressed their Lord of War to sue for peace, not to take the battle beyond the Forebearer's ancestral borders. Thrakst had even considered it. Then the Argonians had done the unthinkable.
Looking through the Forebearer's left eye-port, Thrakst studied the dreadnought flying on his left flank. As with the Tidor Drof, it was a giant conglomeration of hollowed iron asteroids held together by steel superstructures. Like all ships in his fleet, the bridge at the front of the ship was a massive bust of a Forebearer's head chiseled from a dedicated asteroid. The combination of natural and unnatural structures and the power their mass signified were designed to strike fear into all that ventured within its sphere of influence. A sphere Lord Thrakst intended to extend today.
Gesturing for Phascyre to look at the bridge of the adjacent dreadnought, Thrakst pointed at the sculpted Argonian skull clenched in the Forebearer's stone fangs. "This weapon will bring the bastards to their knees."
The ancient Raja bowed respectfully. "You will have your vengeance, my Lord."
