Chapter 11

Day 6

John loved his quarters, but suddenly felt too confined in them. A walk, he reasoned, would be perfect to get his mind off things. After shutting down his computer, he headed out. He had no destination in mind, but soon found himself in the area of his new friends. He was greeted in a very friendly manner. It seemed they were having a get together at the local park.

One young boy of about eight took John’s hand, and began tugging furiously, until John gave in and followed. It seemed they had all been in contact with their family members. Shuttles were going down later for them, and they were celebrating their new-found freedom. A young man, about sixteen, approached John and the boy.

“Sir, is it true that our planet is in danger?”

John thought for a moment, and used his implant to call for Sam. She appeared from around the corner and approached. In the meantime he had asked her if she had any video of the Hruth. She had explained that she had gotten a burst download from the port’s computer, just before the Hruth took over all her communications.

A truly large screen lowered out of the ceiling. To John it reminded him of the large drive-in theater screens ... it was that large. He got everyone’s attention and pointed to the screen. He explained that some of it may not be suitable for younger children, and asked if any of them wanted to take their children home first. A man in his late thirties, John guessed, approached.

“Sir, my name is Alberto. There is not a single one of us that has not been exposed to the horrors our country has to offer. We are here because we were willing pawns of the cartels. You have given us a chance at true freedom. All of us are willing to fight for that. But all of us, our children included, need to know what we face.”

John nodded. The park’s lighting dimmed as though dusk had fallen upon them. The screen lit up. The first scene was of a ship. It was made out of some kind of dark material, and the surface was irregular, with no pattern that John could discern. The ship was longer than it was wide, and looked about as streamlined as a box of saltines. In fact its appearance was very much like a box of saltines. The only discernible features were a protrusion at one end, that he assumed was the flight bridge, because at the other end were the exhaust ports. The camera stayed on it until it finished its docking maneuver.

The scene then switched to the inside of the space station. A variety of species were arming themselves. Each was donning some type of body armor. Some of these guards were humanoid, others ... well ... they defied any description John could offer ... though he swore he saw one that looked like a Wookie, and another that looked like a larger version of Rygel the Hynerian from ‘Farscape’. Though John believed that Ka D’Argo would have been better in a fight, still the question remained, how were the people on Earth coming up with such accurate depictions?

The view switched to an inside view of the dock where the Hruth had attached themselves. When the door opened they didn’t exactly rush through. They were more fluid in their movement, like water flowing through a broken damn. Laser rifles flashed from the security force personnel. The lucky ones died before they were trampled on by the rush of Hruth. Then, in a flash, that camera was destroyed as one of the Hruth spotted it. John realized that though different in appearance, the suits the Hruth were wearing to protect them from the atmosphere inside the spaceport, were barely more advanced than the ones NASA used.

The view changed again, but this time the security force had a much better position. A natural barricade was made from the design of the spaceport. John figured it was to force people though customs. The security force didn’t wait. They began firing the moment the Hruth were in sight. The space that each fallen Hruth had occupied was immediately filled by two more, or so it seemed. The fallen were ignored, the moment they were no longer firing a weapon. Even though they were forced through such a narrow space, the Hruth continued to surge forward, through sheer numbers.

For every three that went down, two made it through. There was no strategy to it. They were just using their superior numbers to overwhelm the security force. The bodies that were stacking up were working in the Hruth’s favor, as well. They were using them as shields, until the last moment when they would leap over them. The security force was soon over-whelmed. The battle had lasted less than five minutes. Bodies of the Hruth dead were unceremoniously dragged to the side by other Hruth, so they didn’t continue to slow down others.

From camera to camera, the progress of the Hruth was tracked. It was apparent that they were after tech and not slaves, because every living creature they came across was destroyed. It seemed the ships with AIs had a special docking area that was inside, and pressurized. The Hruth poured into this area as well, overwhelming any resistance. John was sure he had seen Sam’s original scout ship among the others. As the Hruth began entering ships, suddenly the screen went blank.

“I’m sorry Admiral,” Sam said, “that is all there is.”

The screen retracted, and the park was bathed in daylight again. However, there was a somber silence. The young man, who had originally asked John if they were really in danger, approached him again. John took note that there were streaks down his face were he had been crying.

Pointing toward where the screen had been, the young man said, “That was not a movie. Movies have heroes and the heroes always win, though I saw many heroes, they all died. That can not happen to Earth, I want to help.”

John had to clear his throat of the catch that had formed in it, before he could speak.

“What is your name, and what is it you want to do?”

“I am Manuel, and I want to be a pilot.”

As he said the last, he puffed out his chest.

John smiled and asked, “How old are you Manuel.”

He hit his chest with a closed fist, saying, “I am sixteen, and a man.”

“Manuel, where are your parents?”

Manuel seemed to collapse in on himself and said, “My father was murdered two months ago, but as you asked earlier, I have released my sworn vendetta. My mother is beside you.”

John turned to see a rather attractive woman in her thirties. John was glad that he had found his center as well as having the coating on. This woman’s body exuded sex appeal. Though he found her to be very attractive, he didn’t allow his thoughts to travel more hedonistic avenues.

“If my sons life will keep our people safe, then I will gladly give it, though it is the dearest thing that I have to offer.”

John had to swallow hard to keep his emotions from welling up.

“I do not want your son’s life. I would, instead, ask for his help. I would ask for the help of any that would be willing to take an active roll.”

“Even me?” the mother asked in an astonished voice.

“Even, you,” John answered with a smile. “I know that your culture doesn’t normally have women doing much beyond raising a family, cooking meals, and cleaning house. Here, you can do whatever you choose to do.”

“Even being a pilot like my son,” the woman asked in even more astonishment.

Suddenly, John was surrounded by women wishing to sign up for pilot training. A young woman pushed her way through and gained John’s full attention. It wasn’t so much her appearance though she was a beautiful petite young woman. It was more the air of confidence around her.

“Sir,” she said in a firm voice, “may I be a pilot, too?”

“What is your name and how old are you?”

“My name is Mora, and I am fourteen years old.”

“Well, Mora,” John said with a wide smile, as he realized her name meant ‘little blueberry’. (He was surprised at the sudden wave of affection he felt for this young woman),

“I don’t see any reason why you can’t be a pilot, but I will have to speak with your parents first.”

For the first time since she came through the crowd, he saw her confidence waver. With a little urging her entire story spilled out. Her parents had been killed and her uncle had been raising her.

“A man saw me with my uncle, when we were at the market. He offered my uncle any sum of money, if my uncle would agree to sell me to him. I expected my uncle to say ‘no’, immediately, but that didn’t happen. Instead my uncle quoted an outrageous amount of money, but the man had agreed. Again, I expected my uncle to back out, but he didn’t. I was being delivered to the man who had purchased me, when I was taken. I do not know the stories of the others, but for me I owe you much. For now, I am in your care,” she said as her original confidence returned. “After what my uncle did, I no longer have a family, so I want to join yours. I want to fight, I want to share in this goal to save our planet.”

‘Penny, what are you doing right now?’

‘I was just playing on my computer, why?’

‘How would you feel about sharing your room with someone?’

‘If it’s you, sure! How soon can you be here?’

‘Sorry, sweetie, not right now; but hopefully, soon. In the meantime, I’ve made a new friend among our Columbian allies.’

‘Is she pretty?’

Who said it was a she?’

‘I love you, John, but you are a bit old fashioned. If it had been a boy, you would be talking to Brian right now.’

John smiled, she had a point; that is exactly what he would have done.

‘So, why didn’t you take her into your own home?’

‘Heav’n hath no rage, like love to hatred turn’d, nor Hell a fury, like a jealous, pissed off, teen-aged girl.’

He heard Penny’s laughter in his mind at his intentional misquote.

‘John, I know from reading my parents, that I won’t be your first mate. You have much to understand about my view of relationships and maybe a little more to understand about me, as well. Even before I came up here, I didn’t view things the way others did. Maybe this will help you understand. As long as you always find time for me, I don’t care how many mates you have, or how many bed partners. Before you say anything, think about it. I will go talk to Mom and Dad. If they aren’t doing their ‘rabbit thing’ again, and I’ll be right over.’

Doing their ‘rabbit thing’? He wondered what she meant by that. Before he could ponder it any further there was a tug on his sleeve. He looked down at Mora, and saw the concern in her face.

“Sorry, Mora. I hope you don’t mind. I was making arrangements for you to have a place to stay.”

Her expression immediately turned to one of accusation.

“No, my little blueberry, not with me. You will be staying with a very close friend. She is a pilot, too.”

A smile spread across Mora’s face.

“I get to stay with your friend, and become a pilot like she is? Is she pretty?”

John laughed lightly before saying, “Well, Penny is a shuttle pilot, but if that is what you want, then certainly. However, if you want to learn how to fly one of the other ships, you may. As for her being pretty I think she is beautiful, but I will let you judge for yourself. When we talked just now, she said she was on her way over.”

“You talked to her? How? I saw you use no phone.”

‘How much to tell her, hmmmm?’ he thought.

He decided on a half-truth. So he told her about the implants. The minute she heard about it she wanted one. Then she wanted to know what other kinds of ships he had. John laughed at her youthful exuberance. He took a few minutes to give her the basics on what would be available for her to fly and noticed that all those around them were listening, too.

John turned to Sam, whom he saw now was now being inundated by women wanting to change their information. So he called for Adam. A couple minutes later Adam made his way through the crowd. He told Adam that he wanted the main screen lowered, and images of all the proposed ships placed on it. He instructed Adam to put a computer in each individual housing unit.

Adam smiled, and said they were already there, explaining Martha had said they should be ‘standard issue’. John smiled. It made perfect sense. One day, people might feel comfortable talking to their computer; but for now a monitor, keyboard, and mouse, gave them a higher ‘comfort level.’ He asked that Adam channel his (John’s) voice through the sound system, then he climbed on top of a near-by park bench.

“Ladies and Gentlemen. I know this is all new to you, and that you are in a hurry to start your new life, but hear me out for a moment. If you will look at the big screen again, you will see some of the ships that are going to be available. In each of your quarters, you will find a personal computer. On it will be a listing of positions that will be available.

“Do not worry if you don’t think you have the skills for a particular job. If it looks like something you could enjoy, then sign up for it. We will see that you get the training for it. Tonight, you will learn a little more about the culture that brought us this technology.

“There is no hurry in making your decisions, no hurry at all ... though I do understand your eagerness to get started in your new life. Give yourself some time, and find a place that feels right for you. I want you all to be happy with your new beginning, so choose carefully, and be sure you will like your choice. Remember that we need much more than pilots, though we certainly need them, also.”

There was a change in the room after that. Everyone seemed to mellow out, and there were discussions about what kind of jobs might be available, and what they would do if they could do anything that they liked. Adam asked that he be able to leave, as he was involved in something that required his full attention. John dismissed him. He noticed that Sam was now having comfortable conversations with people, so he started moving about and talking to people as well.

Soon the celebration was going in full force, again. John talked to several people about it. They explained that they were celebrating what life they still had left to them. They also added that they were celebrating the hope that they would be victorious against the Hruth. John liked their outlook on life. They didn’t dwell on the negative, but celebrated the positive.

While he milled around and visited with as many people as he could, it didn’t surprise him to look down and see Mora at his side. He wondered if she had adopted him as her protector, or if it was something more.

He tried not to think about it too hard. He knew it would only give him a headache, because there was a part of him hoping for the ‘something more’. However, there was another part of him that wanted to keep her safe. If she became a fighter pilot, though, that might present some problems.

John caught sight of Penny when she entered the area. He got Mora’s attention, and indicated Penny.

Mora wrinkled her forehead and asked, “Did she send her daughter to come and get me?”

John laughed, then leaned closer to explain.

“No, Mora. That is Penny. She is my friend who is the pilot.”

A brilliant smile spread across Mora’s face, and she greeted Penny as an old friend. Soon the two were chatting away and John was, if not forgotten, at least set aside for the moment. He busied himself greeting more of his new friends and found that their enthusiasm was contagious. John allowed himself to be swept away in it.

Though it seemed a bit egotistical, Bkrek decided to check out his most recently archived entries. What he discovered, was that none of his entries had ever made it into the archives. There were recent updates, but the information contained in them was so different from what everyone was being told, that it was worrisome. He had always believed that each planet-fall was done for the good of the race. What he was finding out, was that greed was the major motivating factor. As interesting as this information was, it was not why he was here.

He went back to the first entries. He was amazed and slightly disgusted when one of those soft, awful pink-colored humans came on the screen. Yet, as he was reaching for the keyboard, he was struck by how close the language this humans language was, to his own. This was unheard of, everyone knew that humans weren’t intelligent enough to speak a language so advanced. Yet here was one doing a very good job speaking something closely related to their own language. He actually understood a large part of what the human was talking about. He was speaking of rising chemical concentrations in their potable water supply. Then the human began listing the new concentrations of airborne pollutants.

Bkrek’s digit inched closer to the keyboard, while his mind recognized some of the chemical compounds that this person believed were so toxic. Many of the compounds were required for an atmosphere to be breathable by the Hruth. Maybe this was an intercepted transmission of a planet that had been targeted. That would explain the reason it was in the archives. The need for those compounds was great.

Bkrek picked a place in the archives at random. The image on the screen was even more disturbing than those sickly-pink humans. It was an image of a man, (or woman, it was impossible to tell), that was neither human nor Hruth. It looked to be a crossbreed of the two.

He shivered at the thought of crossbreeding with one of those sickly abominations. But then something the narrator was saying, caught his attention.

‘That is impossible,’ Bkrek thought. ‘There is just no way. Surely someone would know?’

He used the controls, and picked another random file, closer to the present. It was a report by something very close to Hruth. It was speaking about Lord Krasgga Las’ plan for planet-fall. ‘Planet-Fall,’ he thought, ‘and Lord Krasgga Las.’ That name sounded so familiar! Why was that? He knew his head hurt from all of this research, and from his journey to the archives to begin with.

He was surprised when a little drone brought in a tray of food. It was then he realized just how hungry he was. This would be the first meal he’d had, all day. He had skipped his First Meal, because of his nervousness over meeting Prime Flerdat. His Mid-day Meal was missed, because he had been coming to the archives’ entrance. Bkrek got up from the computer workstation, and followed the drone to a set of quarters. Though not that large, they were huge compared to his own. He sat down at the dining table, and began eating. The food was better than anything he had ever tasted before in his life. He cleaned the platter. He wanted to go back to the console. All this information was much too fascinating to walk away from. However, exhaustion won out. He was in bed and fast asleep in moments.

Prime Flerdat was moving across his floor, his appendages pivoted him in an irritated fashion.

‘What possessed me to send someone like Bkrek Lis down into the archives? Sure his file shows that he is loyal, but what does that show?’ Prime Flerdat thought.

He had grown very good at reading people. He knew it wasn’t Bkrek Lis’ loyalty that got him to go to the archives, it was Bkrek Lis’ curiosity. Curiosity was a very dangerous commodity.

The Prime had become certain that there were things in the archives that he could use. He began to suspect this, some time back, when he discovered that the only one allowed to make actual entries was the Lord. He thought this was odd, in and of itself. There was an entire office of people who believed that they were entering data into the archives.

All the information entered by that office, was going into an old junk mainframe that was wiped every thirty cycles, to make room for the new data. He had paid dearly to get that information. The group he had hired to retrieve it, was forced to kill three guards to make good their escape. Not that the loss of the guards were of much consequence. But the fact that they had died, and the time place and method of their deaths, had caused several problems.

He had expected to hear from Bkrek Lis by now, to let him know that he made it in, or that he had tried and the codes weren’t any good. No, that wasn’t accurate. He knew Bkrek had made it, and that the codes had worked. He had received the signal when the map and codes he had given Bkrek Lis had self-destructed. That meant that the little geek had made it that far. Why hadn’t he received the coded message that he had told Bkrek to send him? Maybe there was another security system he wasn’t aware of. Maybe he should have picked some other unfortunate to do the job. Flerdat began moving across the floor, again in an agitated fashion.

Bkrek Lis’ sleep was less than restful. Something was happening to him, of which he was not consciously aware. He was making contact with something inherent to his race. It was something that had been suppressed for many millennia. It had been believed to be erased, to have been bred out of their race. That ‘something’ being racial memories. So long had the past been forbidden, that they had forgotten how to access the memories of their forbearer’s.

Bkrek Lis was making contact with those memories, now, though he was not aware that this was what was happening. What he was seeing he thought of as a dream. To be more accurate, for him it was a horrible nightmare. He was back in the office of Prime Flerdat. Their discussion was amicable enough, when suddenly the Prime started to change. At first the changes were small: his skin lightened, and his olfactory organs began to swell and protrude. Even the swelling about his mouth might have been over looked. But when his skin started to mottle to a sickly pink color, Bkrek began to back away.

That wasn’t the end of the horror. Two of the Primes’ four lower extremities, first shrank, then disappeared into Flerdat, leaving him grotesquely bipedal. Bkrek had been backing away and was now frozen in place. The Prime was still talking as though he hadn’t noticed what was happening. The Prime’s arms shortened, as did his digits, and then his lower extremities changed again. His pads were reforming into the ugly things humans called feet. He looked up again in horror, as the Prime’s eyes became a disgusting blue color. Then that weird stuff, the fiber-like growths that humans call hair, started growing out of the Primes head. When the Prime’s skin finally shed the last of its gray color to reveal the sickly pink under it, Bkrek’s resolve broke. He fled the room in horror. The Prime had morphed into a human.

Bkrek swivelled himself to the side of the bed. He went to the personal sanitation room to relieve himself. All the while, he was blaming the strange rich food the drone had brought him for the horrible dreams. Though Bkrek was convinced that sleep was over for him, he was quickly asleep again. This time his mind started connecting the videos to what Bkrek had dreamed about Prime Flerdat.

John was sitting by himself in the dinning area, playing with his laptop. Mora and Penny had disappeared, to work on Penny’s ‘mystery project’. The two had been inseparable since he had introduced them. Paul and Martha had paired up with Dennis and Sandra to begin recruiting. They had already retrieved all the friends and families of the Colombians. Now they were working on their own friends and families. From there, they had appointments to meet with people all over the world. Sam and Adam were going with them, to act as translators.

The amazing new turn of the events was the number of possibles from Canada. One could tell by reading their letters, that they loved their country, but it seemed that they were more open to new ideas than most other cultures. John decided he would have to look into it, so he could understand the difference. He had always found the Canadian people to be a very friendly, open, and honest people during his few visits. He wondered if it had to do with their socio-economics structure, or if it was something more.

It was then that Brian approached him with his own laptop in hand. John turned his laptop off, and set it aside. It looked like Brian wanted to talk. Without saying a word, Brian opened his laptop, and did some rapid key stroking. A small 3D image was projected just above the keyboard. This one looked like the destroyer he was in the process of designing, and hadn’t been finished yet. Brian did a few more rapid strokes and a Chimera class ship was displayed. When John asked, Brian explained that he had Adam do an upgrade, so his laptop could project images.

“I have a few questions about your designs if you don’t mind. It isn’t easy to catch you when you are alone. The first thing I want to ask you, is about the weapons systems.”

He produced a stylus, and touched an area of the ship. It enlarged. He did this a couple more times until he had the replicator/load/launch/turret system for the missiles displayed.

Pointing at the missile in the launcher he asked, “Stats show you calling this a missile. Why?”

John laughed! Of all the questions he had expected, that wasn’t one of them.

“Brian, the Rhylertian word doesn’t translate very well. I suppose I could have just as easily called it a torpedo, but that doesn’t fit much better.”

Brian shook his head and said, “No, your right, neither fits very well. Both are self-propelled units. The rocket with its solid fuel, and the torpedo with its screw or water jet system. This, this is fascinating,” he said, indicating the missile/torpedo. “It is launched using something like the electromagnetic systems from mag-lev rail systems. Only much more sophisticated. The unit is shot out of the launcher at an incredible speed. The unit itself is amazing! With its on board guidance system’s FoF signal tracker, you don’t even have to fire this thing directly at a target. Once it is locked on, you ‘fire-and-forget’ it. The maneuvering thrusters make sure it hits the target. It can even maneuver around friendly craft, even if extensive maneuvering is needed. It will bleed off a little of the inertia it gained in the launch, but not enough to matter.”

John could tell that Brian was excited about this, so he offered Brian a chance to name the ‘unit’, as Brian had taken to calling it.

“I couldn’t,” he said, “no, I wouldn’t know what to call it. What was the Rhylertian word for them.”

“They called them teffids.”

Brian was shaking his head immediately, “Nope, that wouldn’t work either, it sounds like either a crustacean, or a bad horror flick. You know, ‘attack of the teffids’ or whatever it was.”

John was laughing, and this time Brian joined in. When they were done Brian looked at John again with a serious expression before he said.

“I guess we will continue to call them missiles, unless one of us thinks of something better to call them.”

He went back to keying his keyboard, and the image of the destroyer came back up.

“You know Brian, in cases like this, the military usually comes up with some kind of ludicrous acronym. We could do something like that. I mean what are they really? They are un-powered or non-powered, actively guided, warheads.”

“So what are you suggesting, U.A.G.W.? That’s actually worse than what we already have.”

“That’s close to what I had in mind, but I was thinking of using the Non-Powered version and I actually saw an acronym that used WAD instead of warhead.”

Brian laughed and asked, “You want to call it a NAGWAD?”

Then he looked thoughtful and added, “You know that isn’t half bad. NAGWAD. The more you think about it the more it grows on you.”

John smiled and agreed. He pulled out his laptop did some of his own quick key work and changed the official designation of the weapon. Then he turned his attention back to Brian, who was waiting patiently to discuss the destroyer.

To describe the ship took some effort. Imagine a teardrop, with the narrowest part of the teardrop being the front of the ship. The rear was where the propulsion system resided, and was the widest. The top and the bottom of the ship are terraced. The upper most and lower most terraces are circular, each lower one appears more elliptical as they reach towards the narrow nose of the ship. On the top in the rear was a nodule that housed the weapons and flight control. The entire unit could be ejected in the case of an emergency.

Now it is important to know that these terraces were, in themselves, weapons platforms. They housed both missile batteries, and twenty-giga-joule plasma ACC (Anti-Combat-Craft [still pronounced as ‘Akk Akk’]) cannons. They would be used to keep the fighters at bay. The ship could put four hundred missiles (well, NAGWAD’s, then) in flight in a single firing. But that wasn’t the end of its surprises. The sides of the ship extended outwards, exposing two large launchers. It carried two of what John called ship-killing NAGWADs. Unfortunately, the ship-killers were much too large to use the ‘replicator solution’ for re-loads, so each ship carried two ship-killers until it could re-arm at a base or a supply ship.

Still, that wasn’t the last of it. The ship had its unusual design because the entire vessel was designed as a weapon. The ship was an adjustable wavelength molecular disruptor. After the problems with the ‘gauss gun’, another weapon that could be relied upon was desired. This seemed the perfect choice. The muzzle velocity was the speed of light. The frequency and wavelength could be adjusted, so that it will take out or penetrate shields. There was no worry about storing or creating munitions for it. It could be used in continuous fire, or in more powerful, pulsed bursts.