Consortium of Planets: Alien Test (5 page)

“Lieutenant, can you hear me?” He sounded desperate, but he didn’t care. “Can you move?”

She still didn’t respond. It scared him. His initial self-assessment seemed insignificant compared to Beth’s unconscious body. He didn’t want to move her and aggravate possible injuries, but if he didn’t, how could he help her? She might need immediate first aid. Unable to wait any longer, he reminded himself to breath. Slowly and gently, he began to slip out from under her.

He carefully rolled Beth onto her back and tried to make out her face through the dark visor, but he couldn’t any of her face. There in her visor’s reflection was a multicolored beam of light. Its gyrating rainbow of colors was gradually rising out of the center of the crater. Flashes of lightning at the top reached like giant electric fingers for the Earth.

Finally, Beth regained consciousness. Over his shoulder she saw the rainbow, too. “Colonel, what is it? Is that what knocked us down?”

Dean looked away from the rainbow and held Beth firmly by the shoulders. “L.T., stay down. I need to check you out and see if you’re injured. We’ll worry about that light soon enough.”

“Sir, I think I’m okay.” She tried to reassure him. “You aren’t exactly soft, but you broke my fall.” He could hear a shaky smile in her reply.

Ignoring her attempt at humor, he asked with some concern, “You were unable to respond. Were you unconscious?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” she answered quickly. “You think I could have a concussion because I blacked out, but I’m fine now.” She stood up as gracefully as she could. “We can move out.” He was unconvinced by the lieutenant’s argument, but under the circumstances, she was right again – time was in short supply and her assessment had to wait. The anticipated alien aggression had begun. They still had to get to their craft and back to the crater so they could stop the assault at its source.

****

New York City:

Jonathan looked gravely at Ellen. “Recall my inner circle of advisers.”

It was time to move from his office and set up operations in the much larger United Defense Corps’ Situation Room complex, commonly referred to as “the Sit Room.” The complex was much more than a single room. It was actually a small base set up for a staff of up to four thousand. Deep underground, the Sit Room was designed for continued command and control of military forces, in case the Earth’s surface and air became defenseless.

Visen planned to control the flow of information by limiting the staff to only mission-essential advisors that included his Supreme Military Chairman, World Intelligence Director, and NASA’s top scientist. He would add others as needed. Most of their support staff would function out of their own command posts and be included only on a need-to-know basis.

As the chancellor entered the impressive auditorium portion of the Sit Room complex, all but one of the ten square meters of monitors that lined the circular wall in front of him displayed the colorful beam. They showed all the bright colors of the rainbow and their slow, malevolent progress toward Earth. The press had already named it “the Alien Moonbeam,” which was exactly why operations and communications security were so important. The news media’s tendency to incite fear had to be controlled. The last screen showed the view from Colonel Forge’s helmet.

****

Lunar surface:

Dean looked up. He watched the multicolored beam’s steady progress as Beth disappeared into the sleek
Star Chaser
. Reluctantly, he switched to the chancellor’s frequency. “Are you getting this? We got flattened by a shock-wave when the aliens fired that beam out of the crater.”

“Colonel, operations have been moved to the Sit Room and we are receiving everything, including that rather awkward save of your lieutenant.” With fake concern in his voice, Jonathan continued. “I trust she’s okay? It would be a shame to lose your latest partner after only a few hours in the field.” He relished in Dean’s silence, then continued in a more businesslike tone. “Can you add anything to what we already know? By the way, the press is already calling the alien’s ray the “Moonbeam.”

He’s trying to make me angry and screw up my judgment…or maybe the lieutenant was right – maybe he IS trying to bait me! Is the world listening?
Dean couldn’t be sure about those thoughts, but he did know that there was no time for games, so he ended the conversation. “Negative, sir, I’ll get back to you.”

As Dean entered the
Star Chaser
through its oval hatch, he stopped short and smiled at Beth. She had made good use of the time that he had wasted with the chancellor. She looked like a gunfighter out of the Old West: laser battery packs formed an ‘X’ across her chest and two laser blasters hung low on the curve of her hips. The grenades clipped to her chest added a nice touch. The plasma launcher in her left hand wasn’t a shotgun, but under the circumstances, it would be a lot more effective. He couldn’t help but laugh as he pulled off his helmet.

Beth looked up from loading power packs into the plasma launcher. “Colonel, do you think I need another launcher?” Then she noticed his big smile. “Hey, are you laughing at me?!”

Dean couldn’t pass up the opportunity to tease her. Faking contemplation, he rubbed his chin and cocked an eyebrow. He nodded as he walked slowly around her in mock-inspection and answered her first question. “Well, it would balance out the outfit but with so much firepower, you’d probably tip over anyway.”

His smile was so bright that she momentarily forgot everything. Her mouth dropped open and she blinked. Upset with herself for the lapse, she hoped he hadn’t noticed.

Swallowing hard, she quickly regained her composure and allowed some of that irritation to show in her voice. “We’re getting ready to go up against God-knows-what and you’re joking?”

Obviously, she was not in a kidding mood, so Dean let up on her and got serious. “Lieutenant, you’re right. We have no idea what we’re up against. I’m only trying to lighten things up a bit. In addition to weapons, we need to eat and get fresh oxygen. Seriously, if you pack any more ‘heat,’ your mobility may really suffer.”

Beth relaxed slightly and felt her enthusiasm return. “Maybe we
should
eat but let’s hurry so we can get back and stop that beam.”

Dean tried to draw on Beth’s eagerness but failed.
I don’t think it’ll be quite that easy.

Chapter Three

Washington DC.:

It was the perfect summer day: warm and fragrant. A beautiful raven-haired woman lay on a soft red blanket. She gazed up into the sky and watched songbirds float effortlessly among fluffy white clouds. She rolled onto her side and looked at the day’s beautiful reflection in a crystal-clear pond. With manicured nails, she idly touched its mirror surface and watched the image distort into ripples. Her handsome lover leaned gently against her shoulder and they watched as the reflection reappear. Then he smiled, took her into his strong, comforting arms, and looked deep into her eyes. His thick Russian accent reminded her of home.

“Sasha, you are so beautiful. Your eyes hold me helpless. Your lips…”

Bringggg! The obtrusive phone call pulled her from her dream lover and most reluctantly from his full, moist lips. There was no mistaking her superior’s serious voice, which rang in her ears and jolted her to full consciousness.

“General Stranova, report to the United Defense Corps’ Situation Room immediately.”

Even on the secure line, he would only say that something big was going down. The chancellor had recalled a group full of heavy hitters. Her questions would have to wait for the briefing in the Sit Room. She had never been in the Situation Room, but everyone knew that it was the ultimate command post. It was buried deep underground in granite with thick, reinforced steel rooms that moved on huge springs to minimize trauma to personnel and high-tech equipment if it ever came under attack.

Until now, the U.D.C.’s Space Operations wing had only been an afterthought. The wing’s commander, Major General Sasha Stranova, used that status to her advantage and had operated under the radar since Space Ops’ inception only twenty-four months prior. With minimal interference and shrewd planning, she had taken her meager budget and developed a small but technically impressive space-capable fleet, at least by Earth standards.

She was proud of her advanced equipment and modern facilities, but as every good commander throughout history knew, victory depended on the caliber of their soldiers. Once again, she took advantage of her wing’s anonymity and hand-picked the most elite soldiers from military organizations throughout the world.

Great commanders set the example for their troops to follow, and Sasha was no exception. She set the bar high for herself and her troops, mentally and physically. Those high standards and the space mission’s mystique ensured the elite reputation that her wing enjoyed. Her efforts to create a superior force included the physical effort of taking the stairs instead of the elevator whenever possible. Such standards had resulted in the strong, trim woman that now descended the stairs into the Sit Room.

The Sit Room’s main auditorium was in full operation. A few aids were rushing around with information; others sat in three semicircular tiers of sleek work stations and studied glowing computer screens. A major was briefing three colonels at the end of one of the rows. Sasha paid no attention and continued with her assessment of how well the Sit Room was functioning. She knew that General Martle’s briefing would be much more in-depth.

The Sit Room’s down lighting was typical for a command post: bright where needed and shadowy everywhere else. It made every face look like a mug shot. Behind the major’s briefing, most of the large wall monitors displayed what must have been the Moonbeam. They were talking about it on the radio when she drove in. One monitor showed weird objects and strange buildings set in what appeared to be a dark crater on the Moon. Finally, on the wall above and behind her, overlooking the entire operation, was what looked like a sports arena sky-box. The heavy hitters that General Martle had mentioned on the phone were up there milling around in their glass observation booth.

Chancellor Jonathan Visen stood in the middle of those heavy hitters, leading a heated discussion. Sasha’s graceful descent down the stairs caught his eye. He excused himself and stepped away from the conversation. He tried not to stare at the shapely, dark-haired woman with ice-blue eyes that had just entered his command post. The two stars on each shoulder indicated that she was a general, but not just any general – Martle claimed she was necessary to oppose the alien attack.

After staring for far too long, Jonathan reluctantly turned away from the distraction and picked up the discussion with NASA scientist, Dr. Friedmark. “Chancellor, everything that we have tried so far has turned up nothing.”

Jonathan couldn’t accept what he was hearing. “You can’t figure out what it is?!” His obvious anger was mixed with an underlying threat.

The doctor shook his head in an effort to maintain control of the chancellor’s growing frustration and rubbed his tired eyes. “No, I mean there is nothing there. It has no mass. No energy. Except for what we see, it doesn’t register on our equipment at all!”

Jonathan exploded loud enough for all to hear. “Doctor, how can that be?! There are undulating colors and flashes of lightning coming straight at us from the damn Moon!”

Friedmark didn’t like the chancellor. He had seen some good people disappear over the years when they crossed the man. Even with the danger of being in the chancellor’s inner circle, Friedmark wanted to stay in it – he couldn’t let opportunities like this go to someone else. He ignored the chancellor’s outburst and pressed on.

“Yes, it is visible through a telescope, but that’s just a close-up of what we can already see. The probe we fired into it simply vanished without sending any data back. I believe it’s time for a manned vehicle to examine it, at least from a distance. We’ll continue to try other things. I’m in constant contact with my colleagues at NASA and additional scientists from around the world in an effort to find answers.”

The conversation was going nowhere in the chancellor’s mind and he was getting frustrated with the doctor’s excuses. He had surrounded himself with talented people so that he could get answers. It was time to end the conversation. Wanting to appear in control of the situation, Jonathan raised his voice for the benefit of the two approaching generals. “You’re damn right you’re going to keep trying. If you can’t figure this out, Doctor, I’ll find someone who can!” General Martle waited for the Chancellor to stop yelling, then nodded toward Sasha. “Sir, may I introduce Major General Stanova.”

Caught in her gaze, he and Friedmark smiled a little too brightly.

The chancellor broke the silence. “So, they tell me you are our only hope. We aren’t getting much of that from the scientific community.” He glared at Friedmark.

Suddenly uncomfortable and beginning to flush red, the doctor mumbled something about getting back to work and quickly excused himself.

Sasha was appalled at the way a man with such power could demean his subordinate, especially in public. The trace of crimson on Martle’s face and the stress-related twitch under his right eye told Sasha that he didn’t care for the chancellor’s display, either. Sasha felt like she had just anteed up in a high-stakes poker game but with one huge distinction: lives were on the line, not money.
I wonder what’s worse, sniper fire or politicians. I guess there’s really not that much difference, either one can make your life hell.
Even though her emotions were as icy as her flashing blue eyes, she kept them in check and gave the chancellor her best smile. It was time to give him her two cents’ worth.

“Sir, Space Ops is ready to do whatever is necessary. If it is some sort of light, my guys might be able to place something in orbit to deflect it away from Earth. Or, maybe we could devise some kind of lightning rod to absorb its energy.”

With the chancellor leaning slightly toward her and listening intently, she decided to address what was really bothering her and changed topics. “I overheard what you said to Dr. Friedmark.” The sudden shift to a potentially dangerous issue caught Martle off guard. Alarmed, he tried to warn her off by clearing his throat. Sasha gave Martle a reassuring nod and continued. “And, I believe that we can only beat this adversary by working as a team.”

Visen was impressed with the general’s candor and the fact that she had more ideas than his highly paid scientists. He straightened to his full height and raised his fist. Sasha instinctively took a step back and braced for the attack. Martle advanced a step and prepared to defend one of his generals.

If the chancellor noticed them squaring off against him, he ignored it. He brought his fist down hard into the palm of his hand and boomed, “This is exactly the attitude we need to beat these creatures!” He faced Martle. “I can certainly see why you wanted to bring her on board – brains and looks to match.”

Caught completely off guard, Sasha’s mouth dropped open and her eyebrows arched. She blinked rapidly and struggled for a professional response.
He’s such a sexist pig!
A sideways glance at Martle showed Sasha something she had never seen him do before. He was rolling his eyes at the comment about her looks. Her initial contact with the chancellor left Sasha reeling.
How has he risen to such power?

She began to imagine a sniper taking up a position and finding the chancellor in his cross-hairs.
Whoa, girl, if he’s having that effect on you, I think that it’s time to leave
. She smiled tightly. “Gentlemen, if you will excuse me, I think I’ll run my ideas by Doctor Friedmark. We’ll firm up a plan of action.” As she walked away, the tightness in her chest relaxed.  It felt good to breathe again.

The Chancellor was bad news. She would find a way to stay away from him.

****

The Sun finally dropped below the horizon. Dean nodded to Beth that it was time, and they moved out like hungry cats stalking their prey. Beth hung back and studied her colonel’s quick and deliberate style. She began to pace him, feel his rhythm, and soon she had synchronized her movements. She felt the adrenaline pumping through her veins. It was good to feel that rush again. Overhead, the electric rainbow still flowed from the crater into the twinkling black canopy.

When they arrived at the crater’s rim, the surface looked opaque again. It had changed back to the way it looked the first time they had seen it in the dark. This time, Dean wasn’t thinking about fishing.
That surface looks artificial. I wondered if the aliens are camouflaging the crater’s interior.
Even without lights, they could still make out the marks from their earlier efforts in the deep lunar dust. They stepped onto the same spot and began fastening their climbing gear for the descent. Neither had said a word since leaving the
Star Chaser
. Years of experience and training had taken over their actions. Verbal communication was unnecessary. Beth was excited that her bond with Dean was growing.

Dean didn’t care for the typical style of rappelling that had one bouncing off the wall numerous times, facing back the way one came with their ass exposed to the objective. Slow and exposed weren’t smart ways to stay alive. Dean liked to rappel assault style, by running face first down the wall. This allowed him to keep his eyes on the target and quickly overpower it with surprise – not a rappelling style for the faint of heart and not a style discussed ahead of time with the lieutenant.

Beth attached her rope to the top of the crater and watched the colonel do the same. She didn’t relish going into the ‘hole’ blind and wished they could afford to shine a light. The colonel grabbed his rope, held it to his abdomen, walked up to the edge, and faced down into the abyss.
He’s going down assault style!
Beth had never been trained that way and had to tell him. She tried not to sound desperate. “Sir, you’re going down face-first. I haven’t been checked out to do that.”

“What?!” Dean snapped and then said to no one in particular, “We’re going to have to up-grade our candidate screening procedures.”

He stopped himself with a deep breath. Resignation slipped into his voice. “Well, it’s not something I can show you right now. Don’t try to be a hero, just get down the best way you can. I’ll be waiting at the bottom.”

Beth suddenly felt inadequate and knew that the short-lived bond between them was gone.

It was uncertainty, not physical stress, which caused the beads of sweat at Dean’s temples. Walking face-first down the rocky side of the cliff into the murky shadows was too slow. Running was so much better. Things happened quicker that way and it allowed Dean to function on reflex without thinking about the danger. His first inclination was to follow his instinct and run down the crater wall, but that would leave his partner behind and the thought had been made out of anger. They had originally agreed not to split up. If he pushed her too hard, she could make a mistake.