Warp Point

by Darrell Bain

  “How about work? Don't we have to go in tomorrow?"

  “The powers that be have already taken care of that for us. We don't have to go back until we feel like it or until Dan runs us off, and the Dean hasn't got a thing to say about it. Dan said while he's taking care of the arrangements for us, Stacy would be getting one of the guest bedrooms ready. Give me time to throw some things in a suitcase then we'll run by your place and let you pack. He's sending a helicopter to pick us up at noon."

  “Wow! Hurry up! I can't wait."

  * * * *

  “Matt's coming and bringing his new girl friend, Chet. I'm glad to see him in circulation again."

  “Me, too. That was a tragedy, losing his wife so unexpectedly. I hope he can help us with the warp business."

  “If anyone can, it's him. He's smarter than both of us put together, but he'll probably laugh at us for calling a congruency a warp point. That's one reason I wanted him here, besides him being both our friends. Stacey and I are going to have a hard enough time as is. Having you two here'll ease our minds considerably.” A sudden thought brought him up short. “Will Kyra be coming down?"

  Hawkins shook his head. “The first thing I'd hear is favoritism and nepotism, probably both, but besides that, she wouldn't want to. You and Stacey have similar interests; Kyra and I don't. Now when it comes to choosing whether or not to go with me when you take the ship back through the warp point, that may be a different matter."

  Dan grinned. “You sound like you're pretty sure that's what we'll do."

  “I don't see an alternative. You'll be practically forced to, and you're going to insist on me going with you, I hope."

  Dan returned the grin. “You bet. And Matt, too. That's if it turns out like you think. I'm not quite as certain, myself."

  “Well, we'll see. By the way, we need to set up some equipment for conference calls. Do you want to hold them here or would you rather do it at the command post?"

  “Here,” Stacey said emphatically. “For some reason, I don't want to get too far away from the house or the ship, either. In fact, I'd feel safer if you set up some kind of enclosed corridor from our back door to the ship."

  Dan was puzzled. “What's on your mind, sweetheart?"

  Stacey gripped her husband's upper arm. “I don't know, but I just don't feel real safe yet, despite all the army troops here and despite the protective field. Not after this conversation."

  “There's going to be more troops,” Hawkins told them. “I obtained a plat of your property and we're completely closing it off. By the time we finish, a mouse couldn't sneak through the line."

  “It's not mice I'm worried about."

  * * * *

  King Alim Alhusain of Saudi Arabia had finally acceded to a meeting with Grand Imam Ashrah. In theory, the Imam had no more religious authority than any other believer; in practice, he was the most influential Muslim theologian living. He had to be granted an audience, and in truth, he wanted to know the Imam's thinking on the subject of the spaceship.

  “The Americans are liars, your Majesty; liars, infidels and cohorts of Satan. Their cursed military has taken command of the blessed Messenger despite the brave martyr who destroyed the American spaceship and facilities before it arrived. They are silencing Allah's holy words by claiming the Messenger was empty. They lie. It could not have been empty of those bearing the word of Allah, otherwise why send the Messenger? If we cannot have the holy Messenger's vessel, you must insist they accept proper representation of Islamic scholars to study the interior and perhaps discover where they are hiding the ones who brought Allah's words to Earth, directly from heaven."

  King Alhusain had just spoken to President Berne. Despite being an infidel, he believed the man when he claimed the spaceship was empty. As to further assertions, he was of two minds. Perhaps the ship had indeed given control to the ones who first entered, but the idea was extremely suspicious and the truth must be ferreted out. If nothing else, he could put the Grand Imam's minions to work in that regard by insisting, as the imam requested, on having Muslim representatives present while the ship was studied. The problem was that every other nation and religion and military power on earth wanted exactly the same thing. Of course few of them had the power his nation's wealth of oil represented, multiplied now since the Israeli strike on the Iranian fields. Even so, the clout of their oil was fading as the great Gulf of Mexico find was finally being brought to market and conservation measures were beginning to take effect in America. Best to use the sway of Saudi Arabian oil supplies while he could.

  “I will speak to President Berne, Holiness. I feel certain representation will be forthcoming. But be cautious in choosing. I would think scientists whose faithfulness and purity of belief is unknown to the westerners should be selected. If done so, we will be certain of obtaining factual information. Do you not agree?"

  “If it must be that way. But nothing must be withheld. There are more martyrs waiting for their chance to ascend to paradise. If necessary, the Messenger will be destroyed rather than allowed to remain permanently under the sway of the Great Satan."

  “Of course. However, I believe you should notify me before martyrs are loosed again. These are momentous events occurring; I am constantly in contact with both our friends and our enemies. Possible actions must be coordinated with our friends, lest they become enemies as well."

  “As you wish, your Majesty. I shall call for prayers for your success. Surely Allah will listen to us rather than the infidels."

  The Grand Imam rose, bowed to the king and departed, leaving behind an unbeliever, insofar as the imam's promise of notification before martyrs were sent to paradise went. He doubted the Imam's word on that, thinking he would do as he chose, then use some obscure reference from the Q'raan to justify his actions. However, martyrs might have a very hard time penetrating the area surrounding the spaceship. If it were to be done, it would almost have to be an inside job. Of necessity, he would need to have his own agents on the premises. King Alhusain sighed, wishing for a simpler world, one where the Islamic religion ruled all. Then knowing how foolish was the daydream, he returned to his work. A king's duties were doubly hard, because one never knew when information presented was truly factual, or altered to please his own beliefs and preferences.

  * * * *

  Premier Feng was unhappy; General Chou En Song was insistent. “Sir, threats are the only weapon at our disposal now that the alien spaceship landed in America. We must learn why."

  “Why indeed? Feng asked rhetorically. “According to the Americans, they had nothing to do with its choice of landing sites, nor with the first persons to explore the interior of the ship."

  “And you believe them? In the first place, why would aliens cross light years to deliver a ship empty of passengers? It makes no sense. And secondly, there is the matter of the technology involved in such a deed. We cannot allow the Americans to have a monopoly on such power."

  Feng sipped at his tea, thinking as much about the young woman he had picked to share his bed the coming night as about his obstreperous general. “We've gone to the U.N. Security Council, demanding free and unmonitored access by the great powers, the permanent members of the Security Council. A vote will take place within a few days."

  “And in the meantime the Americans soak up knowledge denied to us. Would you have us again be a puppet of foreign devils, as was our fate for centuries before we took matters into our own hands?"

  “General, I doubt that threats will accomplish what we seek. The president is in thrall to his Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. He will do as General Binds demands, and the general has recommended that observers be allowed to participate in study of the craft. Of course they will be controlled and not allowed to learn anything of interest, just as we would do were our roles reversed. No, we must be more subtle than rattling our nuclear arsenal. When the American Ambassador to the U.N. vetoes the resolution granting access to all nations, as they surely must, we will attempt to place one or two
of our sleeper agents into the contingents they do allow to study the ship. We shall also attempt to infiltrate the diplomatic observers if the president concurs with General Binds’ recommendation to allow them. In the meantime, we will negotiate with our financial power. We hold enough American dollars to crumple their economy should we choose."

  “At the expense of our own as well, Premier Feng."

  “Better that than atomic war, General. The American military may be deficient on the ground but that aspect is outweighed heavily by their nuclear arsenal and the means to deliver it. We would see our country razed to the ground, thousands of years of civilization ground into dust. No, for the time being we will use our agents already in place. I have directed Sun Tran to move our female agents into position, the ones where we hold their relatives in check. They will be ready when opportunity presents."

  For the first time General Chou allowed his features to relax into the tiniest of smiles. He hadn't thought of that. Sex was always a useful tool and both American men and women were notorious for making fools of themselves for their lovers’ sakes. It might work. And if not, the premier would have a rude awakening over just who actually controlled the country.

  * * * *

  Boris Cherkov was referred to as the Premier but in reality he was the dictator of Russia. His power was secure; obtained and maintained through the judicious use of the new Secret Service intelligence agency. Parliament had given the Secret Service all the power it needed, even though the trappings of legislative approval meant little. Cherkov thought of himself as a patriot, doing what he considered best for Mother Russia, just as his predecessors had in the past. In this case, Mother Russia simply must gain access to the technology inherent in the alien spacecraft. The drivel of allowing Russian observers access to the craft was crudely and obviously intended to be no more than a sop, a token of cooperation, meaning little since the American military minions would control their movements and ability to come away with anything other than visual data. There would be no hidden miniature computers or cameras allowed to sneak past their security checks; he was certain of that. If data was to be obtained it would have to come in the form of an agent or agents, unknown to the American intelligence services.

  He called Ivan Karposky, chief of the SS, to his office and gave him the order: penetrate the American scientific community investigating the spaceship.

  After listening to Cherkov's directive, Ivan asked, “Is it true that the American couple who entered the ship first are the only ones who can control it? And is it also true the ship arrived empty?"

  “So the Americans say. Frankly, I have grave doubts over the ship arriving without aliens aboard. The only way that makes sense is for the ship to be an invitation for humans to return with it, back through the warp point from which it came."

  “Perhaps that was the intention."

  “Unlikely, but if so, it's your job to find out. Don't fail me on this, Ivan Karposky. It is far too important a matter to let the Americans control. Failure to let us have our due could lead to war."

  “I understand, Premier Cherkov. I shall begin work immediately."

  “Fine. Report progress to me daily.” He waved the man away and turned back to the papers on his desk. On second thought, he summoned the chief of his alternate secret service, the one unknown to the rest of government, including Ivan Karposky's own intelligence department. The only way to discover the worth of information supplied to him was to have it double checked. It was an unfortunate result of being in total control of the government. Underlings often told him what they thought would please him rather than face his wrath as the bearer of bad tidings.

  While waiting on his other intelligence director, he mused over what he had said moments earlier. It would never come to war. Nuclear warfare would leave no winners. Only fanatics like Islamic fundamentalists or power hungry Chinese generals would ever take that final risk. He had to let them know he would not allow it to happen without overwhelming retribution.

  * * *

  Chapter Nine

  Matt helped Tara down from the helicopter, catching a blast of air from the revolving blades. Apparently, the pilot had other missions waiting and was only dropping them off. They hurried to get out of the wind-stirred dust and debris. They were met at the edge of freshly poured tarmac by a pair of soldiers. One was waiting in the driver's seat of a small civilian jeep; the other stood beside it.

  “Matt Selman and Tara Whitley?” the standing soldier questioned.

  “That's us,” Matt said while looking around. He was astonished at changes like this landing pad, but it was the spaceship looming in the distance that drew his attention, even though it was only partly visible. It was much higher than the trees hiding the house, itself a good distance from the county road nearby.

  “Whew! That thing's huge, isn't it?” Tara said.

  “Wait until you see it up close, ma'am. It's awesome. If you'll be seated, we'll drive you up to the house.” The soldier held open the rear door of the little jeep for them, then got in the front seat with the driver.

  The fact wasn't lost on Matt that both the soldiers wore sidearms and had rifles racked in an upright position between the front seats. Obviously, his host was being well guarded, and with good reason, he thought.

  “It's still hard to believe the ship landed right on property owned by your friends, Matt,” Tara remarked as the jeep got underway.

  Matt shrugged and brushed a lock of his unruly red hair from his forehead. “Well, it had to land somewhere. I seriously doubt it was actually seeking out Dan and Stacey. Now that would be unbelievable."

  It took only a minute or two until the jeep pulled up in the big driveway at the rear of the house, designed to accommodate as many as four vehicles, just as the garage was.

  When the jeep stopped, the same soldier who had met them at the landing pad got out and escorted them to the door and rang the bell. All the way, Matt and Tara kept staring up at the gigantic apparition that had taken over their friend's property.

  Dan opened the door, a happy grin on his face as he greeted his old friend. He held out his hand. “Matt! Good to see you. Thanks for coming."

  “I wouldn't have missed it for the world. Dan, this is Tara Whitley, my girl friend. I've told her a lot about you and Stacey."

  “Hi Tara. Y'all come on in. When I heard the chopper landing, Stacey started mixing a pitcher of our favorite brew."

  Matt laughed as he and Tara followed Dan inside. The “brew” had been invented during their college sophomore year and consisted of rum, coke, champagne, and some other rather esoteric flavorings. It was strong but good. “Tara, honey, go easy on the stuff,” Matt warned. “It sneaks up on you."

  “I made separate pitchers, one for the guys and one for us,” Stacey said as they entered the den. “Hi, Matt. I'm Stacey,” she added, turning to greet Tara.

  “Tara Whitley. I've heard a lot about you. All of it good, by the way."

  Stacey laughed while she examined Matt's new friend. Tara was dressed in jeans and a red short-sleeved blouse that went well with her raven hair. She was so petite that she looked younger than the mid twenties Matt had mentioned, but her bright smile and direct gaze hinted at a highly intelligent mind to go with her good looks and slender figure. “Well, come on and sit down and let's all get caught up on the news."

  “You two are the ones making the news these days,” Matt observed.

  “Yeah,” Dan agreed glumly. “You won't believe all the things happening to us.” He sat down on one of the big loungers with Matt and poured from the pitcher Stacey set on the coffee table in front of them. He stole surreptitious glances at Tara while she and Stacey seated themselves on another lounger only slightly smaller than the other. Judging only from looks, Matt had done well for himself, but he understood his friend well enough to know he would never pick a woman for beauty alone. And anyone holding a master's degree in astronomy certainly had intelligence to spare. He remembered having trouble in just t
he introductory course he had taken.

  “Well, who starts first on catching up?” Matt asked, as the first sip of Stacey's brew brought back fond memories. “How long has it been now? Two years since I came up to see you?"

  “Not quite that, but I remember how depressed you were at the time. For good reason, of course. Tara, I'm glad to see Matt hooked up with you, if I can use that term. He was due to get himself back in circulation."

  “I'm glad, too. I had an experience similar to Matt's and I didn't feel like mixing socially for a long time.” She smiled across at Matt, letting him know she already approved of his friends.

  “Are you an astronomer, too?” Stacey asked. “Matt mentioned something like that, a master's degree I think, but you know how conversations can get distorted when they're passed from person to person."

  “Uh huh. I just got it last year. I worked for a while in Austin, then when the position of assistant professor came up at the U of H where I could start work on my doctorate's, I applied. Matt seemed like he'd be a good boss and so it turned out. I suppose once it gets around that we're going together there'll be a lot of talk about favoritism and such, but I don't care."

  “Me, either,” Matt said. “If the dean or the president doesn't like it, there's other jobs. And I'm not hurting for money anyway."

  “Glad to hear it,” Dan said. “Although, if you agree to stay for a while I can put you both on the payroll with no problem."

  “Sounds like you have a lot of influence on what goes on around here."

  “We do. Stacey and I are the only ones who can operate the space ship. That lends us a certain amount of authority, but frankly, we'd just as soon not have quite this much responsibility. I wake up in the morning feeling like Atlas, and wanting to shrug."

  Matt and Tara hadn't heard this bit of news. Matt was astounded. “You two are the only ones who can operate the ship? Is that what you said?"

  Dan nodded.