Consortium of Planets: Alien Test (2 page)

And that brought Wystl back to why she accepted her current mission when what she really wanted was to retire. One of the probes traveling through the distant Omega Quadrant of the galaxy picked up a faint transmission that was more-than-typical space noise. University scientists studied the signal and determined that it was very promising. Unfortunately for Wystl, one of the scientists, Reggiald, was her mentor. When she saw how intrigued he was with what the signal might represent, she reluctantly volunteered to evaluate its source.

For Reggiald, she would endure the anxiety of passing through the membrane between the dimensions one last time. The new technology had changed her excitement for exploration into fear. She accepted the fact that it was time for the next generation to take over. Once she determined if the species responsible for the signal was of any value to Consortia, she would resign.

Still standing at the portal, Wystl realized that time was slipping away from her, so she turned and headed down the still empty corridor. She stopped at the iris-like doorway to her cabin. It quickly recognized her and opened from its center outward with a gentle swish. The small cabin was sparse by most Searcher standards: it contained a few pieces of plain furniture, a drab rug that tried in vain for warmth, and some bad art hung on the wall. Wystl didn’t care. It would be a short mission. Comfort wasn’t that important. Besides, Reggiald’s picture was all she needed to add warmth to the room.

With a few minutes to spare, she considered listening to the third planet’s signal again. She flipped the recording a few feet into the air and let it land safely on the bed. If it landed heads-up, she would listen; if it turned up tails, she would give herself a break from trying to make sense out of it. Its shiny side landed heads-up and contrasted sharply with the olive-green-colored bedspread.

Wystl sighed reluctantly. “Heads it is.”

She listened intently to the planet’s long and short bursts of energy. Once again, they made no sense. All Wystl could find was that the lengths of both the long and short bursts never changed.
These life forms may not have much technology, but their code does make them interesting, at least for now.

Wystl watched her monitor carefully as her oval-shaped interdimensional ship eased slowly through the ring of stellar debris that typically marked the outer boundary of a solar system. Her monitor showed the relatively thick field of meteors, and then they were through to open space again. The opportunity for finding and studying phenomena like this was the very reason that Wystl had stayed at the University.

She studied each planet she passed as it moved along in its endless journey around a dim, distant star. Each world showed her something unique with its own beauty and personality. One of the largest had multiple rings filled with different colors – not a very common a sight. The next planet was even larger: it was a magnificent gas giant with a tremendous red storm raging across its upper atmosphere. With more mass, it might have developed into a small second star and possibly eliminated the other planets. Wystl thought to herself how lucky for those on the third planet that that never happened.

Only an unusual ring of debris existed where the next planet would have been if gravity had been able to pull it together. Or, some other force may have broken the planet apart after it formed. Some of the University scientists were studying the new laws of physics found in the travel dimension to determine if they could go back in time. They found that time in the home dimension seemed to stop for those using the travel dimension. Another explanation may be that time in the new dimension could fold over itself, thus shortening the amount of time needed to travel between two points. And what if it could fold behind itself to a point before it even happened? New probes were gathering data to determine if this was possible and if the Searchers could manipulate the dimension for time travel. So, if it were really a dimension of time, Wystl thought, maybe one day she would be able to see why this solar system had a ring of asteroids instead of a planet.

Wystl set her linker to monitor Captain Nalan’s instructions for orbiting the planet its natives called Earth. She had already told him to assume a discrete, high equatorial orbit, at twice the speed of the planet’s daily rotation. Since Wystl first entered the solar system, the data received from these beings was prolific. They were communicating with each other on a variety of frequencies and Wystl’s translator was having no difficulty with all their dialects. She was excited that her database was growing rapidly and conceded that the University could be correct about the significance of this place.

“Searcher Wystl, this is Nalan.” The captain sounded more severe than normal. “Have you seen any visual data of these Humans yet?”

He was a rookie captain and not used to seeing new species.

“No, but I’m sure they are no more unusual than the others that we have encountered,” she said impatiently, not interested in playing a game of questions.

“Well, Searcher, you better take a look at this. These beings are a long way from home.”  

Wystl thought about what he said, but it made no sense. “What are you talking…about?” Halfway through Wystl’s question, Nalan fed her a view of hundreds of Humans walking on a busy street in a large city. He had surprised her.

“By the stars, Captain, you’re right! But it can’t be the same species!”

“Searcher, if it walks like and talks like, then it probably is.”

Wystl was well aware of the Warrior Caste’s reputation for shooting first and asking questions later. She didn’t want him jumping to any conclusions. “Captain, walks like, talks like…what?!” She needed to put him in his place quickly and be stern in her response. “You need to leave the science to me. Obviously, we need to study them. They seem confined to the planet as far as I can tell. But, put your Warriors on yellow alert until we’re certain. This may be a forgotten colony or even a point of origin. I will figure it out,” she assured him. “Don’t let the crew do anything stupid until we know what we’re dealing with. Is that clear?”

There was a long pause as the captain considered his duty. “Fine, Searcher Wystl, but don’t take too long,” he warned with a foreboding tone. “The Warriors on the bridge are
already
restless.”

As she analyzed the data, it became obvious that the Humans were not a physical threat, at least not as they had developed on this planet. Research into their distant past showed Wystl that if they were the suspected species, contact with the others had been lost long ago. Now the trick would be to convince the captain and his crew. They could be very stubborn. Wystl keyed the captain and tried to sound as authoritative as possible.

“Captain Nalan, I have determined that we should treat them as a different species. Inform the crew and I’ll let the University know.”

“Searcher Wystl, you are sure?”

“For now I’m sure. If there ever was a connection, they diverged long ago. Also, a parallel environment could have resulted in a similar appearance without the same genetic code.” Wystl waited in anticipation while the captain considered his response.

“Very well, I’ll let the crew know that their appearance is only a coincidence.”

Wystl breathed yet another sigh of relief and realized that she was getting too old for this. “Thank you, Captain.”

Wystl continued to study the Humans and discovered a dichotomy in the species’ behavior. Their history showed a correlation between a Human obtaining power and the subsequent danger that same Human then posed to its own species by wanting more power! Ironically, Humans’ struggles sometimes resulted in mass destruction of what they were trying to obtain to begin with. However, other data showed that they were capable of many positive traits like nurturing their young or working together to meet a common goal.

Presently, they were mired in a war in a place called the Middle East – a conflict that in one form or another had been raging for thousands of years. Wystl was intrigued by the gain that Humans had made in technology in only a few hundred years; furthermore, those gains were coming faster all the time. This would be very important to the Consortium’s plans for Earth. But the species’ instability did concern her: would they be able to handle the psychological stress from such rapid improvements, or would they find a way to commit mass suicide like the pathetic Vistolitties, who were only a few thousand light years away? If it got too serious, she would step in and stabilize things long enough for the Consortium to decide.

One thing was clear: she needed more time to determine the Humans’ value to the greater good. She ordered the captain to land on the planet’s large moon and to establish an observatory for an indefinite period. The captain and his Warriors weren’t planning on a protracted stay but reluctantly set down on the Moon’s barren surface anyway. Wystl got her wish to study the new species in depth, just as she had with the other planets that had held so much interest for her. Thoughts of her retirement suddenly became a distant memory.

Chapter One

It had been fifty years
since Wystl established her lunar observatory. During that time, other searchers had found only a handful of species scattered around the galaxy that met the Consortium’s requirements to become intergalactic trading partners. After testing, only eight of those species turned out to be compatible. For the C.O.P. to continue to flourish it had to keep growing. As the legend went, if it ever stopped growing, the C.O.P. would crumble from within and be lost forever.

The Humans presented a strong possibility for partnership but continued to have growing pains with their blossoming technology. Fortunately, they always pulled back from annihilation at the last moment, so Wystl could stay hidden and continue to gather data without tainting it by intervening. Recently, they had begun using their technology for tentative visits to Mars and had come relatively close to discovering Wystl’s base a few times.

She had stayed on the Moon much longer than she had intended and rotated through four captains and hundreds of crew members. She had learned all that she could by observation, and it was time to begin the active test phase of her study. The Earth’s current peaceful appearance cloaked a growing threat from a new tyrant that had unified all its governments; it was also a unique time, when the Humans would have a unified response to a world threat.

Wystl sat in her austere cabin and tried to calm herself by gazing at strange stars that filled this distant part of the galaxy. Reggiald’s picture drew her attention. She was glad that early in her career she decided not to take a mate. It would only add to her growing emptiness the longer she had to stay on this distant, sterile moon. She forced herself to look away from Reggiald toward Earth. Its yellow sun slowly began to emerge and form a dazzling crest along the planet’s watery blue edge.

How would this unstable species react to its first alien contact?

Some of her research showed that many Humans would welcome such an opportunity. However, the majority of her research indicated that most of them would shoot first and ask questions later. This held especially true of things that the Humans didn’t understand. Even though they found it was difficult to understand something after it was destroyed, their approach had so far proven essential to their survival. But that had been confined to dealing with themselves. Wystl was changing the game; she wondered how they would react when they were unable to destroy the perceived problem.

The wait was over and Wystl felt her anticipation grow. She carefully reviewed her species’ first communication with this new species that held such great promise. Short and to-the-point, she shot it like a flare in the night…

“Humans, you are not alone.”

And so it began.

****

Lunar surface:

Two weeks after the message was received and its source located, Colonel Dean Forge of the United Defense Corps found himself lying on his belly with thick moon dust threatening to cover his entire body. Years of experience had trained him to keep his head down, even when his mind was elsewhere. Right now, that highly trained mind was fantasizing that the large, heavily shadowed crater that lay in front of him – jagged peaks surrounding its rim – was really a lake high in the Grand Tetons mountain range. He pictured one trout after another jumping and twisting their fat bodies as they splashed back into the cool mountain water. And, he was just the man to catch a few and fry them for dinner.

Dean whispered to himself, “Buddy, you are due for a very long vacation, assuming you can survive whatever is about to happen.”

Refocusing his attention, he carefully inched forward on his belly through the heavy, gray powder until he came to a shear drop-off at the crater’s rim. He strained to see into it but, strangely, the available natural light wasn’t strong enough to pierce its opaque surface. The twinkling stars overhead were no help; they barely lit up the first meter of its interior. If the scientists were right and there were aliens, he couldn’t chance them seeing his artificial light. He would have to wait patiently for the Sun to rise above the Moon’s horizon and reflect more light onto the crater’s floor.

Gradually, the light began to touch the patch of rock that Dean lay on. Still focusing his senses on the abyss in front of him, he listened as the lonely silence was answered sporadically by distant static. Changing position on the unforgiving rock beneath the dust brought only fleeting relief from the stiffness that threatened his concentration. Hoping the additional light from the Sun would help light up the crater’s interior and with nothing else to do at the moment, Dean let his mind wander again.

He began to relive some of his old assignments – all the killing they involved and the beautiful women that somehow slipped away during his time in the United Defense Corps. About a year before he found himself on the Moon, Dean headed up a small black ops team that was assigned to fight terrorism. With their own private Lear jet, they deployed rapidly to any point on the globe and eliminated deadly activity that threatened the United States’ security.

The team’s last mission was particularly bloody and continued to nag at his thoughts. It began like all the rest and there was no way to know that it would end like it did. Around three in the morning, Dean’s cell phone rang. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes trying to stop the nightmare of previous missions that always plagued his dreams. An encoded message squeaked and pinged through his phone for a couple of minutes; his phone automatically recorded it for decoding later. He immediately hooked it up to his cipher and played it so this time he could understand it.

He was given a contact to meet in Paris, France, who would give him and his team further instructions. Whenever they went on a mission, they began it as tourists with all the proper documentation. Once inside the country, they switched to their mission persona. In twelve hours, they were supposed to rendezvous with a man at a sidewalk café by the river Seine.
Not much time to “mount the posse” and “get across the pond,”
Dean thought as he tapped the number into his phone to automatically inform team Bravo Oscar that it was time to go to work. Normally, they had a few days to hammer out mission details and minimize problems. Whoever had authorized this operation was in a hurry to get it done. Through the years, Dean had learned the hard way that without taking time to properly plan, things could go horribly wrong. He hoped their French contact had already fine-tuned the plan, but either way, he would find out soon enough.

It hadn’t rained in weeks, and fate had picked their takeoff time to correct the deficit by pounding his team’s small airport with buckets of the stuff. Fifteen kilometers outside Washington, D.C., Dean pulled up to one of the airport’s two hangars in his immaculate, cherry red, classic 2025 coupe and stepped out of the dripping vehicle with a resigned smile.
Yeah, I know. I just washed you.
He held the mission file over his head for protection against the downpour and took off at a fast trot toward the hangar where the jet was waiting, fueled and ready to go.

Even through his heavy overcoat, Gretchen could see the power and strength of the man as she watched Dean's rapid approach through the open hangar door. He was the type of man you didn’t give a second chance to. If she hadn’t already known him, she would have put a bullet between his eyes and two into his heart, center mass, just to make sure. Out of the whole team, she had worked with him the longest – about two years – and she remembered every bloody mission like it was yesterday. She also remembered all the times he saved her from certain death and how much she owed him. If she tried to thank him, he got embarrassed, mumbled something about just doing his job, and changed the subject, but she knew in her heart that someday she would return the favor.

Dean knew better than to mix business with pleasure, but he had to pull up short just outside the hangar. Still standing in the rain, he took in Gretchen’s piercing, light-blue eyes and flowing red hair. Those eyes made her the best sniper he could find, but today the two operatives were on duty.

“You beat me,” he said to the curvaceous redhead.

Gretchen knew that he was staring at her and liked it, but like Dean, she knew they had to maintain their objectivity and couldn’t get involved with each other.

“You better get out of the rain before it washes you away,” she said playfully. With that eclectic, European accent that Dean couldn’t quite place, she added, “You know we need a team leader.”

Dean followed her advice and stepped out of the rain as Antoine, the second-best sniper he could find, stepped up and saluted.

“Colonel Forge, I am honored to be part of your team.” Pride and enthusiasm with a French twist rang in his words. Dean’s male sniper had brown eyes, black hair, and a medium build. Neither sniper looked lethal, but both had extensive martial arts training, so if the mission called for a fight they would be able to hold their own and then some.

“And I am honored to welcome you to my band of marauders. But this is the last time you can use my rank. If someone overheard, it could become a huge liability and may be even compromise the mission. Do you understand?” Dean asked.

With a shocked look, Antoine replied anxiously. “I am sorry. It will never happen again.” And it didn’t.

As he took off his overcoat and folded it over his left arm, Dean looked around for his demolition expert, but he hadn’t arrived yet.

“I guess I’m getting a little soft,” he said to Gretchen as they walked around the plane, inspecting it before takeoff. “The two of you beat me in. Normally I get here first. As soon as Ralph gets here, we gotta take off.”

Gretchen couldn’t help herself and looked Dean up and down in that way that made him very uncomfortable. She leaned into him and almost whispered so no one else heard. “With that much muscle, I could never imagine you soft.”

“Look, the mission has already started and we gotta stay on point to stay alive.” Dean swallowed hard. He was flattered but didn’t want to hurt her. “I know we’ve worked together a long time, but we can’t let feelings affect our work. May be we should think about breaking up the team when we get back?”

That was the last thing that Gretchen wanted. “No, I know better. It won’t happen again. I know I can trust you and I don’t want to go through getting to know someone new.”

Dean was starting to get a bad feeling. He had already corrected the behavior of two of his team members, and the fourth member was late. Normally, everyone performed like machines with minimal communication and just did their jobs extremely well. After another twenty minutes, Ralph, mousy-looking and nervous as usual, finally showed and they took off for France.

They landed a few kilometers outside Mets, France, at a small airfield not much more than a paved road without incident. Each of them carried a small bag of gear and jumped on the waiting motorcycles. They averaged about 110 kilometers per hour in the dash to Paris. The weather was mild and the speed was exhilarating as the beautiful green countryside and occasional castle flashed by.

The sidewalk café sat on the side of one of the many shopping squares in Paris that spanned about four hundred meters from side to side. A large fountain, bubbling away in the middle of the square, was a testament to a fallen hero from some long ago war.

By the time they reached the café, the temperature had dropped a few degrees, signaling a cool front. Accompanying cloud cover had washed out some of the old stone buildings’ vibrant colors and the newly hung banners proclaiming the presidential election the next day.

Team Bravo Oscar got off their bikes and gathered around Dean. He was looking for a red beer can that his contact would have displayed prominently on one of the sidewalk tables. The can was there, but a nun was sitting beside it, enjoying a double espresso.
Interesting
, Dean thought as he stepped up to the nun and smiled.

“Is this seat taken?”

She looked up at him with large, soft, brown eyes and smiled back. “There is always room at my table.”

“Do you always have an unopened beer can with you?” That wasn’t part of the verification code Dean was given. Curiosity had gotten the better of him, and the nun began to shift nervously. He decided, before anyone got hurt, to get the conversation back on track. “It’s such a nice day…it would be a shame if someone got hurt.” He had to say it perfectly or his contact would disappear.