0300 Book 3 - 15. Chapter 15: Through the Rift

Chapter 15: Through the Rift

“Captain Moultrie, what would you think of moving the Charleston through the rift, and taking up a position in synchronous orbit at longitude 115 degrees west?” That would put us over the equator, due south of Las Vegas. We knew, now that Las Vegas was only one of several key cities, but station-keeping over LV would also put us close to the time zones for California and Mt. Zion.

I had called a meeting of the Flag Team, and invited the captain and his exec. I could order the ship into the Reverends universe, but would not do so without the advice and consent of my team, which included not only Captain Moultrie but also his son, Andy and Andy’s boyfriend, Daffyd. One of my most important prerogatives was calling meetings which were attended by both Captain Moultrie and Andy. The captain’s pride when he saw his son sitting as a member of the Flag Team was something I cherished.

“What is the advantage, sir?” Moultrie asked.

“Real time imagery from the Omegas, for one,” I said. I didn’t add that I wanted to be able to watch the Reverend’s world from the window of my Ready Room. It was a conceit, and a foolish one: I could have real-time imagery projected from a dozen imint satellites, but there was something about watching a world revolving outside the window. Even though the Omegas were far superior to eyesight.

The Omegas were the highest resolution overhead resources we had. A 120-inch, multiple-mirror telescope with adaptive optics fed the multispectral, charged-coupled sensors, and a high-bandwidth laser sent the information to us. Two other lasers, one operating in infrared and one in ultra-violet pointed through the atmosphere at the target. Sensors read the atmospheric turbulence indicated by the lasers and adjusted the telescope mirrors in very close to real-time. The picture resolution was nothing short of incredible. The problem was getting that much bandwidth through the rift. The rift interfered with electromagnetic radiation, which included light.

The imint and sigint teams exchanged looks, and nodded. They, too, saw the advantage.

“Downside?” I asked that question. I think my people knew me well enough that they’d not hesitate to argue with me, but it never hurt to encourage them to do that.

“We’re 4,000 feet long,” the exec said, “and 500 feet in diameter. We’re going to occult stars, perhaps the moon. These people don’t have streetlights; the Milky Way is very visible. We’d have to dodge. May I have a minute?”

His question was addressed to his captain, who nodded.

“What else?” I asked, to give the exec time to work whatever he was working on his iPad.

“It looks an awful lot like our Earth,” Danny said. “Would it make people homesick?”

“Good point,” I said. “Captain? I think that’s a question for you.”

“I would like to think on that one,” he said. “But my initial impression is that we’re sending enough people home for R&R, and often enough, that it wouldn’t be a problem. Good observation, however.”

I nodded agreement and watched as Danny blushed. I loved it when he did that. It was almost as if he were twelve, again.

“We can dodge,” the exec said when he looked up from his iPad. “We’ll appear to have a figure-eight orbit that may do most of that for us. Some movements may have to be manual, but I can set that up for us.”

The odds that we’d be seen were slim; the odds that anyone who saw us would know what they were looking at were even slighter. Eventually, it was agreed. The Charleston would move into another universe. The captain made that maneuver at 0300.

The Next Day, Camp Santa Ana:
“I Can See . . . People”

“Yes, Hamish? Martin said you had something for me.”

“I think so, Don Reynaldo. I dreamed last night. I dreamed about Andrew. And when I woke up, he was still there. And so was Artie. I mean, I think it’s Andrew and Artie. It’s like they’re inside me, talking. But they’re not talking to me, but to each other. Not all the time, and I . . . I can’t quite hear what they’re saying, but I know it’s them; I know they’re talking and I know they’re really there and not just in my head.”

Dr. Furman was summoned to listen to Hamish’s story.

“My guess,” Dr. Furman said, “is that Hamish is really hearing Andrew and Artie’s thoughts through his telepathy. He’s hearing them, but others of our telepaths are not, because Hamish knows Andrew and, it would appear, Andrew now knows Artie.

“Hamish, you told us that you thought Andrew was still alive, because you believed you would hear his death. I think that the strength of your ability is growing, and that you can, indeed, hear Andrew, wherever he is.”

Dr. Furman questioned Hamish about what he’d heard, but there was nothing else Hamish could tell him.

“Please tell me if you ever hear words, or see pictures, and tell me what they are,” he asked. Hamish agreed.

The notion that Hamish was hearing Andrew and Artie because they were now closer than they had been, before, flitted briefly through Dr. Furman’s mind, but was quickly discarded.

2009-12-26 Mt. Zion

Of all the decisions I’d made—or tried to make—the one that met the most resistance was to put the Charleston on “Mountain Solar Time,” so that we’d be on the same circadian cycle as the people in Las Vegas and Mt. Zion, and close to that of California. I had given up trying, so it was 0300 ship’s time when my communicator blared with the urgent signal. So did Danny’s. He was faster than I was, but not by much.

“Flag Intel Team meeting ASAP, no exception.” It was the voice of Bobby, the kid Danny had recruited from Wales after he’d tried to hack Tobor. Now, Bobby was an Ensign, and head of the psyops team. At the moment, Bobby was the senior GWG on duty in the Flag Bridge. It was a duty all the boys shared. Bobby had grown into a confident, thirteen-year-old who knew that while on duty he exercised all the authorities that had been given to me, including ordering the destruction of anything from F-U that approached the rift or the Charleston. About the only thing he couldn’t do was order a strike on the Reverend’s world. Actually, he had that authority if he felt it justified and could not contact me within three minutes or Admiral Davis within another four minutes.

Danny and I were closest and reached the briefing room first; as soon as he saw us, Bobby began, even as others spilled in, wiping sleep from their eyes and fastening clothing.

Marty and Noah ran in wearing only towels. They would get teased about that, later. I had mixed emotions about their relationship. Marty was from Germany, but had lived in Wales most of his life. Noah was Australian, despite having lived the past few years as an invisible stow-away on the USF Enterprise. They had both been alone for a long time; now, they were a volatile mixture and were fast overtaking George at getting into trouble.

“This imagery came in just minutes ago,” Bobby said. “Train tracks, road, trucks, Mt. Zion.” He identified the key elements. “Guards—not Army and not Sheriffs’ Deputies. They’re wearing gray uniforms—like the observer who was killed at Fatima.”

Glad he remember that, I thought. I was pretty sure that this thought had escaped several members of the team.

Alex picked up the briefing. “The trucks are being loaded from rail cars and then driven into the mountain. The trucks are heavy or the drivers are being especially cautious, or both. They’re running much more slowly than normal.”

“Any ideas?”

“Those look like bricks,” Casey said. “They’ve got holes in them so air can circulate and mortar can dry, and so they’re lighter and use less material.”

“Look at the scale of the image, though,” Alex said. “They’re about eight times bigger than construction bricks.”

“More drums being unloaded,” someone added.

We watched through breakfast, brought by the Flag Mess. It was past lunchtime at Mt. Zion. By our lunchtime, it was getting dark at Mt. Zion. Still, we watched and counted trucks by their headlights.

“Do we know where the train came from?” I had asked about midmorning.

“No, sir.”

“Flag Intel Team? New watch rota,” I said. “And you know why. You’re on Mt. Zion solar time, starting at sunrise tomorrow. Imint? Go over every frame of imagery you have, starting at Mt. Zion and working your way outward. I want to know where that shipment came from, and your best estimate of what it is.”

By dark, there was nothing left for us. I closed the meeting. “Get some play time; get some sleep. I would add get some food, but I know that order is unnecessary. Next meeting at 0930 Mountain Time.”

2009-12-28
0930 Mountain Time

“We found the source of the drums about twenty minutes ago, sir.” Alex began the briefing.

The Flag Intel Team had assembled and was rapidly consuming donuts, hot chocolate, and coffee. I didn’t ask why imint had waited twenty minutes to tell me. They’d told Danny just before he was about to step in the shower with me. He decided it could wait for the rest of the team.

“This is an open pit coal mine in U-Cal. Its location correlates to a similar mine within the Navajo Nation in our universe,” Alex said. “The mine in our universe has been closed except for some raw materials for chemical processes since the advent of satellite solar power, and there are estimated to be at least 200,000 short tons of coal remaining.

“Our understanding of geology across the rifts suggests a similar capacity for this mine.”

Another image came up. “This is a coal-fired power plant in U-Cal. It’s adjacent to the coal mine and connected by a conveyor belt. It’s high-sulfur coal, and of course, they’re not scrubbing the sulfur dioxide from the smokestacks. You can see the damage done by acid rain down-wind of the plant. The power plant has incredible capacity, especially compared to the small plants that are located in the Reverends’ towns, and which provide power primarily for the televisors, Sheriffs’ stations, Army barracks, and chapel.

“Lines from the power plant as well as lines from their version of the Hoover Dam lead to this complex of buildings at the place from which the shipment came. This site correlates to a mine within the Navajo Nation on our world. It is a uranium mine.

“On the assumption that geology is the same—and everything we’ve seen says it is—we conclude that the people in Mt. Zion just received a shipment of refined uranium.”

There was dead silence. Then George spoke. “The bricks. They are not bricks; they’re graphite. They’re assembling a nuclear reactor inside that mountain.”

This was the first time I’d seen the Flag Intel Team, much less any group of GWGs, at a loss for words. They were all looking to me. Time to pretend I’m a leader, I guess. I said.

“Good work, everyone. Kevin? This will be the highlight of today’s daily intel briefing. Include a couple of images of the bricks, the drums. And . . . what time is it in Geneva?”

“Almost 0300, sir.”

“Send it flash to Admiral Davis. No reason he should get to sleep in, today.”

I wasn’t surprised when Admiral Davis’s call came less than a quarter hour later. I’d already decided that he didn’t sleep.

“Paul? That’s certainly the equivalent of an armed invasion of England,” he said. “Who figured this out?”

“A lot of hard work by the imint guys, and some insight by other members of the team,” I said.

“Um, hmm,” Davis said. “When’s the last time you promoted any of those kids?”

“Other than Bobby, the psyops team chief, it was when you promoted me to Commodore, sir.”

“Maybe you should spend a little time today reviewing your personnel files, Paul. Davis, out.”

2009-12-31
USF Charleston

It was 0300 when Admiral Davis called me. I nearly knocked my communicator to the floor, but grabbed it in time. Beside me, George mumbled sleepily.

“Sir?”

“Paul, will you take your fleet through the rift into the Reverends’ Universe and clean out that nest of vipers? You would have the task force that is at the rift, plus three destroyers, two cruisers, the troop transport Rodger Young full of Marines, and one more hospital ship, the Walter Reed. She’s empty of patients, now, and headed your way.

“Additional logistics support and Seabee ships from the Venus Terraforming Fleet are headed your way.”

He did not need to tell me that the atomic reactor under Mt. Zion was a critical target, or a critical factor in his decision.

We’re still making plans . . . was my first thought. The Admiral seemed to understand that.

“Your plans are complete. All you have done in the past two weeks has been to polish something that’s already bright.”

“Yes sir; thank you, Admiral.”

“Orders,” the Admiral said. “Operating independently and in command of . . .” He listed the ships names. “With volunteer crews, you will prosecute the war as you see fit. That is all.”

The communicator blinked off. It was 0304. The entire conversation had taken less than five minutes.

By now, George was wide-awake. He called Danny and told him what our orders were; however, we waited until 0600 to break the news to the rest of the GWGs and the task force. Morning watch shift-change was about the only time everyone would be awake.

“Jonathan?” I asked from my seat on the Flag Bridge. “Please give me a link to the ships in the task force, with ship-wide PA on all of them, including the Charleston.”

When Jonathan signaled that the link was established, I began my speech.

“Good morning, gentlemen. You’ve been on station guarding the rift for a year. Now, Fleet has offered us a mission. You know the background. You all know that a rift has opened between our world, our universe, and a parallel universe. That second universe is a dark place. It is a primitive place. Still, it shares some things with our universe.

“There is an Earth, there was a United States of America, a British Empire, and other political entities with which we are familiar. There is, however, no Fleet, and no Fleet governance.

“In that universe, religious fundamentalists took control of the United States sometime in the early 20^th century. We call them the Reverends. They don’t believe in cosmology or evolution; in fact, they didn't believe in most of science. As a result, a lot of their world is stuck at 1920s technology. No space flight, for example; no nano-technology; and no microchips. They don’t even have pop-up toasters. They do have television, and they’ve turned it into a tool for propaganda.

“They also have a repressive government. They’ve implemented strict religious law throughout the United States and parts of Canada, Mexico, and Europe. They have an uneasy alliance with Muslim fundamentalists who have implemented Sharia law over their part of their world, and with a communist totalitarianism we call the Pan-Asians who exercises power in another part of the world.

“What little technology the Reverends, the Pan-Asians, and the Mujahedeen have has been subverted to keep the population subjugated. They’ve managed to invent tasers: primitive electro-shock weapons. They have gas weapons, like those of the Franco-German war—mustard gas, primitive nerve gas, and others that they use to control any crowd that gets the courage to defy them.

“One year ago today, some kids, the age of our cadets, children who had escaped sexual slavery and worse, managed to connect to one another. They got their hands on ancient projectile weapons. These children began a revolution. They were badly outgunned and outnumbered. The fundamentalists brought in the Army, with tanks.

“Then, something happened. A rift opened between the Fundamentalists’ universe and what we now know of as the Long Universe. Thirty shuttlecraft, with capabilities similar to ours, including weaponry, filled with more kids, some of whom were armed with energy weapons, were drawn into the Fundamentalist universe. These kids, commanded by Commodore Cory Long, quickly figured out what was going on, and gave their support to the children who were fighting the Fundamentalists.

“Commodore Long’s forces managed to rescue hundreds of children, many of whom were wounded. Those children were brought to our universe, where the wounded were treated on the USF Hope. You’ve seen the funeral; you know what happened to the others.

“That battle—the First Battle for Las Vegas—is over; however, the war has not been won. The Fleet Council has declared war on the Fundamentalists. Fleet has given us a chance to enter the Fundamentalists’ universe and win that war.

“You all know our plan: to roll up the Reverends territory like a rug, and then smother their major cities and troop concentrations.

“It will not be as easy as it might seem. Yes, we have a large edge in technology; however, there are many more of them than there are us.

“Task Force Rift will enter the rift at 0300 tomorrow to begin operations.

“If you have questions, send them to Flag Comm. The Flag Team and I will address as many as we are able.

“Commodore Stewart, out.” I nodded to Jonathan, who drew his hand across his throat, signaling that the circuit had been closed.