Selconnifur

By R.J. Brooks

This incredible story begins when a series of seemingly unrelated events take place along the California Coast. Throw in a few earthquakes of various magnitude and you have a perfect mix to kick-off this story.
Max, my main character, is truly a genius, and also a thief. He has begged, borrowed and stolen the millions that were required to build his fantastic invention, a machine called Pellucidar. He has no intention of paying back his lenders and will not relinquish ownership of the Pellucidar to anyone. The Federal Government, the Defense Department, and every major lending institution, comprise a group of the ultimate victims of Maxs financially elaborate plan to finance and use his state of the art invention.

Among the crew of the Pellucidar are some of the best minds in their various disciplines. Some of their specialties are in Medicine, Engineering, Biology, and Electronics. Those people are all very close friends of Max, they are all volunteers and consider themselves lucky to be a part of Maxs crew. When the largest quake hit California, Max and his entire crew were on-board the Pellucidar when a suddenly opening fissure swallowed Maxs great machine . . . the adventure begins. To the surprise of all on-board, they found themselves in a vast subterranean world, miles beneath the earths outer crust. Many unique species of life, heretofore unknown to man, were discovered there, and a multitude of related adventures happen along the way.

During their random explorations, actual contact was established with an alien race. Their technology and machines were far in-advance of the sciences of earth.
While on their mission exploration, through an unusual series of circumstances, it was learned that the entire surface of the earth was being consumed by nuclear chain reactions, the end-result of global thermonuclear war. Earth itself seemed to be on Self Destruct. It was only a matter of time until the steadily increasing heat and radiation laid claim to the remnants of the Human Race.

With the survival of the Human Race hanging in the balance, this was the time that Selconnifur would prove his worth. The clock is ticking.

IT IS THE DAY AFTER TOMORROW AND THE TIME IS NOW!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Dec 29, 2009
• ISBN: 9781441578617

R.J. Brooks

R.J. Brooks is a Viet Nam Era veteran with eight-and-a-half years of service and has two Honorable Discharges. A “Jack of all Trades”, R.J. has been a longshoreman, a small engine mechanic; he has a degree in Marketing and Management, and with that, he was an Optical laboratory manager and an optician. He also earned a Black Belt while he was stationed in Korea. He has been married to his wife, Jane, for twenty-seven years; and has three sons, Adam, Michael, and Heath.

Book preview

Copyright © 2009 by R.J. Brooks.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2009911891

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4415-9813-4

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4415-9812-7

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4415-7861-7

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

71525

CONTENTS

Chapter 1 Ambiguous Events

Chapter 2 It Begins

Chapter 3 The Ranch

Chapter 4 The Chamber

Chapter 5 Shake N’ Bake

Chapter 6 The Pellucidar

Chapter 7 Goin’ South

Chapter 8 The Hospital

Chapter 9 The Briefing

Chapter 10 Going Down

Chapter 11 Basement, Please Watch Your Step

Chapter 12 Landfall

Chapter 13 Another Briefing

Chapter 14 Flyder

Chapter 15 Anchors Away

Chapter 16 You’ve Gotta’ Be Kidding

Chapter 17 Hide N’ Go Sleep

Chapter 18 Over Troubled Waters

Chapter 19 Gopher’s Demise

Chapter 20 A Bad Case Of Nerves

Chapter 21 Hair Balls

Chapter 22 Cold & Furry

Chapter 23 The Un-Intentional Guest

Chapter 24 Bang—You’re Toast!

Chapter 25 Battle Damage

Chapter 26 Gallooka

Chapter 27 A Heavenly Body

Chapter 28 454, Zenith Calling

Chapter 29 Genesis

Chapter 30 Contact

Chapter 31 The Furball

Dedication

This book is for my wife of twenty-seven years, Jane A. Brooks— without her patience and encouragement, this would not be possible. Also to my son, Michael Brooks, whose expertise on computers helped me greatly. I would like to also thank my new partner, MR. HENRY MEHTA, whose friendship and keen business sense comprise a good part of this author’s motivation.

CHAPTER 1

AMBIGUOUS EVENTS

The headlines all over the world carried the story, definitely front page stuff. A crater as large as Mount St. Helen’s was all that was left at the impact site. The huge foreign object had seemingly appeared out of nowhere, falling to earth at an extraordinary speed. It struck somewhere in the Pacific Northwest, in northern Washington State. The incident was considered a freak happening at the time. After about a month, a second such object fell to earth about five miles off the coast of southern California. It was at this time that the earthquakes first began, disrupting normal life all along the coast.

Odd, though. When the second object fell from the sky, hardly any increase in Seismological Data registered. It was almost as if this second object had Soft Landed instead of crashing. This seemed too good to be true… it was! Within five minutes of the object’s entry into the ocean, every seismograph up and down the coast registered record readings and alarming aftershocks of ‘eight plus’ on the Richter Scale. Even stranger, there was no Tsunami, or large tidal wave, following the second impact. However, some two hours later, the seismograph needles in a nearby lab went clear off the dial! Something big had definitely happened beneath the point of the second impact.

After the first in a series of earthquakes hit Southern California averaging seven plus on the Richter Scale, the authorities more than had their hands full. Even the Homeless were pressed into service in one way or another. Every citizen that could walk and talk was counted, registered, and given orders to carry out. Some were used to dig out and remove debris, others too find and help bury the first of many fatalities. All present was now done at a fevered pitch for, as most educated people know, a Tsunami normally follows a coastal quake. Communications, services, and even life itself, were all torn from the norm of things. Couriers were the main form of contact between officials. A Nuclear Reactor was structurally damaged, its foundation severely damaged. This event sent out some kind of destructive wave from the very core at the reactor’s heart, destroying any and all radio equipment not protected by adequate Lead shielding. Only a few radios were still in operation, these located at the Disaster Control Centers. A great deal of static accompanied the radiation that now flowed randomly throughout the Greater Bay Area.

Political un-rest, oil shortages, failing national economies, assassinations of certain Heads of State, the recent up-surge of volcanic eruptions, all added to an almost perfect setting for global conflict and beyond… It goes without saying that most paved roads now resembled the Grand Canyon in miniature. The predictions had all come true, the San Andreas Fault seemed to have become a grim reality. This caused one man to begin an incredible journey into the unknown… TO SAVE THE HUMAN RACE!

"It is the day after tomorrow…

and the time is now!"

CHAPTER 2

IT BEGINS

They were about fifty feet up on the steel scaffold. The new shipment of parts had just been un-crated. Chavo waddled towards Max carrying the huge, new, three hundred pound Entry Hatch Door. The veins in his neck bulged in silent testimony to the door’s massive weight. Just then, with all the suddenness of a stomach cramp, it hit! Everything began to shake violently as the now red-faced Chavo promptly dropped the new door. Down it went, fifty feet to the ground, landing with a tremendous thud, shattering the experimental seal that enclosed the now shattered thermal tempered glass of its viewing port. Hey Boss, deed djoo feel dat Chavo’s thick Spanish accent bearing witness to his obvious ancestry. I always fall off scaffolds for no reason, you Bonehead! replied Max, as he picked himself up off the hard, un-forgiving ground near the damaged door.

Max got a real bargain when this man Chavo came to his ranch seeking work. Chavo was obviously of Spanish descent, swarthy in appearance, limbs like tree trunks, and an extremely high I.Q… . not to mention his uncanny ways with machinery. He turned out to be ex-Special Forces, part of an elite team designated "ALPHA/OMEGA’, start and finish, or beginning and end in Greek. Any average Joe could figure out just what kind of jobs or duties his kind of work entailed. When Max tried to check him out with Washington, he found out that Chavo’s team did not officially exist. Having spent more than his fair share of time within the intelligence community himself, Max concluded that Chavo’s work was with some kind of ghost or Black-Ops type of unit with no accountability, working somewhat in the same capacity as Colonel Ollie North.

Max’s conclusions were that he had been re-evaluated as a rogue agent, his last mission had blown-up in his face, or that Congress had gotten wind of his team’s existence and it was swept under the carpet by the President. The latter item being done at more frequent intervals than anyone would believe, to save embarrassment to the President and/or the country. Max had seen it done… it had happened to him! Strange how they ended up working together on Max’s remote country ranch. Yep, he was just like Max in many ways. Under the National Secrets Act, they were both under strict, non-expiring orders from the War Department. That order stated that mention, discussion, or admission of any operation that you were exposed to would be considered High Treason and subject the perpetrator to either life imprisonment or execution. This would depend upon Washington or the War Department’s interpretation of assumed or actual damage done. In Max’s case, his oath bound him to silence, even to this late date.

From what Max’s contacts could find out, Chavo had been ousted from Government Service under strange circumstances. It was rumored that there was some kind of sanction against him. He had no idea just what kind of operation Chavo was involved in, but whatever it was certainly raised some very important eyebrows in Washington whenever questions concerning this man’s background were asked. The word was that people asking the questions normally found themselves being audited by the I.R.S., told by U.S. Marshals to quit, were under investigation themselves, or had an un-timely accident. Max was told to quit but wasn’t threatened. He attributed this to the government’s knowledge of his prior Intelligence background. There were aware that Max wasn’t stupid and that a word to the wise was all they needed to impart to him. Knowing the consequences, they knew that Max didn’t want any part of the grief that they could un-leash.

Just one look into Chavo’s eyes… you could just sense that this man was quite capable of taking life without hesitation, should the need arise. This guy could be one tough customer to deal with, Max was glad to have him on his side. Even a casual glance from this Latino was enough to un-nerve the most composed of individuals of the Male Gender. He’d worked for Max for about six months and rarely talked unless it was to ask What ees next, Boss? or When do we eeet?, the latter being the most used phrase. Most of the time, he barely spoke above a whisper. It was unusual, to say the least, for Chavo to shout as loudly as he’d done when the tremor hit only moments ago.

Damn it, it took a week to make that seal and it’s junk in the blink of an eye! gasped Max. The seal was made of a new experimental synthetic. Max was peeved, it had been destroyed so quickly. The seal was impervious to extremes of temperature, the real problem was in its brittle state after curing, done as the last step of its manufacturing process. Ignoring all else, Max promptly phoned the manufacturer to express his frustration, if he could keep a lid on his temper long enough to be intelligently heard. Five hundred bucks down the dumper if they didn’t stand behind their product, the seal being indestructible (supposedly). He’d have to order another window, he couldn’t tolerate any more delays.

Max’s love of Speleology and Geology had, along with his excellent manufacturing abilities and love of tinkering, moved him to begin construction. His project was the ultimate, radical, and totally new, survival vehicle. It was designed for subterranean exploration, it was a real beauty! The outer hull was made of the toughest materials that commercial metallurgy could come up with. You might as well say that the bank, the American government, and Max, all had a love affair with this experimental gem. Max figured that, with the money he had personally invested, he could easily buy two of the finest homes in Beverly Hills and have enough left over to tune-up his Porsche. If you believe that’s a lot of money, you should talk to his other partner, the Loan Company. Max must’ve been some kind of Rabbinical Genius to have engineered the financing of this venture. He knew that if the bank or the Government knew what he was spending their money on, they’d call the men in the little white coats from Bellevue. Ain’t it always the way, though? If you have a new concept that hasn’t been done or tried before, no one will believe it… let alone invest in its construction. As far as the banks knew, Max was an eccentric Astro Physicist that needed backing on a Top Secret project for the Rand Corporation, the government’s own think tank.

It had been two months since the first quakes had made a huge pile of debris out of the California Coastal Cities. There was now order again and, with but a few inconsistencies, California was able to again do business as usual. Having seen, first hand, the aftermath of the quakes on his previous trip there to pick up the new window gasket, he now had a new respect for the awesome forces that nature could un-leash.

During his two day wait for that seal, he had an opportunity to see one of the great chasms created by the quakes. It was an awesome sight, the crack in the Earth’s crust was so deep that only shadow and darkness could be observed when looking down into its deep, sheer-sided edifice. He doubted that anything, with the exception of his invention, could survive a drop to such depths. It was an un-proven theory, but he could put money on his machine and its occupants surviving such a drop, and live to tell the story! If only his machine had been ready and positioned closer to the quake areas, he was sure his invention could’ve been used to save some lives here. Max couldn’t help now but it would certainly be interesting to see just what might be at the bottom of such a rift in the Earth’s crust. Surely nothing but dust, rock and maybe some worms, could live down there, but who could say? He was getting a nose bleed just thinking about just how deep that thing was. Maybe I’ll have my machine shipped here before some young, aspiring Civil Engineer finds a way to cover this thing up. He kept mumbling just above a whisper to himself as he left the scene for his ranch in the mountains.

CHAPTER 3

THE RANCH

Max really loved his ranch in the mountains, just a short drive from the city he affectionately called The Pit. His ranch was just far enough off the beaten track, and remote enough, to qualify as a Wildlife Refuge. In fact, however, Max had his own small herd of deer that considered his land their home. Occasionally, you could see them when driving along the curving hills that lead in and out of his property. Most of his land was wooded, with small streams here and there. The property had been in his family as long as he could remember. He didn’t believe that the State Game Commission had any idea of what, or how many, animals frequented his large estate. As a direct result, venison and foul were served regularly at the ranch. Private Property has many advantages.

It must have been around five thirty a.m. Max had just eaten his breakfast as the Sun came up, that last cup of coffee still arguing with the donut he’d just wolfed down. Max should have known better, this indigestion occurred every morning… he shouldn’t eat donuts. Sometimes, he thought to himself, the older I get, the dumber I get.

After a last minute check of personal items, Max grabbed his jacket and was out the door. He was going down to the huge Butler Building that served as his machine shop. Aah, he muttered, my handsomely elaborate machine shop, birthplace of my brainchild, the Pellucidar. He’d named her in honor of Edgar Rice Burroughs, who’d written a book describing his fictional visit to a subterranean world he called Pellucidar. This fascinating book was what had awakened Max, giving him the idea for underground exploration. He’d read Verne’s stories when he was only ten years old, but the adventure in visiting such a place was what had fueled his imagination and eventually gave him his avocation for Speleology (cave exploration).

The huge machine was sitting just inside the Chamber, as they affectionately called it. The Chamber was the computerized test bed where Pellucidar had been constructed. She was in the final stages of completion, there inside the immense Butler Building. It had taken ten years of research and development to complete the Chamber. It was a combination wind tunnel and giant paint shaker, and had all the capabilities of the Dearborn Test Track to put the machine through its paces, when the right test equipment was properly connected. This Star Wars type simulator could put the Pellucidar through any circumstance or condition that the human mind could conceive. Everything from drastic temperatures to sudden shocks, vibration, sonic abuses, and even run the gamut of tests required to give the ship’s on-board computers a tough time. He only hoped that the twenty-two million he’d personally invested was adequate to insure the success of the final test… the Mission!

After leaving the house, his mind began to focus on the day’s schedule. They had to fit that new hatch before calling the rest of the crew in. Once the Chamber’s computerized programming was activated, there’d be no opportunity to hold the program’s progress for late-comer’s. The present program, at seventy five thousand dollars a crack, had no Escape in it. Once the program began its run, it would run to completion. It was a matter of having your ducks all-in-a-row right from the start, to gain any useful information at all. Early morning at the Ranch, there was nothing like it. Max left the big house and began his mile or so walk, down to the Butler Building, to where his marvelous invention had been constructed.

About fifty yards into his journey, he stopped. What he saw was majestic, to say the least. There it was, the legendary Eight Point Buck! Max saw him almost every time he walked the small footpath that led to the Chamber. Although he was delighted to see the Buck, it was awe-inspiring to see the whole herd now emerge from the surrounding bush to accompany him… when Max first spotted him, he’d been alone. Two more steps and he’d be at the top of a little knoll. He could see twenty or more deer there… the Eight Pointer, two smaller Bucks, ten Doe, and the rest Fawns. They all seemed nervous as hell, Max observed. The Eight Pointer suddenly turned his head, twitched his ears, stamped his front hooves, snorted loudly as if to challenge, then… the entire herd quickly disappeared into the thick woods to the West. Odd, thought Max, it was as if there was something after them. Something else struck Max like a hammer, there wasn’t a bird in sight… no insects made noise. The forest was suddenly dead-quiet. What kind of fluke of nature could this be? There was something happening that he couldn’t quite grasp. Walking another fifty yards up and down the winding footpath, Max observed something else out of the ordinary. Near the swamp, where normally great armies of Mosquitoes and Dragonflies filling the air… there were none! Where were they today? He’d never gotten to the Chamber before without at least fifty mosquitoes mistaking him for the Business Man’s Lunch. This must be Nature’s version of a Monday, nothing going quite according to plan.

Let me see now, what did I do with my Matrix? Ah, there it is. Max muttered under his breath, finally arriving at the Butler Building. The clicking of the Matrix card in the building’s locking mechanism seemed so very loud, breaking the almost complete silence that shrouded the area. The internalized tumblers that released the giant steel doors sounded an audible warning that their drive motors were about to go into motion. A sudden whirring sound signaled the activation of the huge motors that drove the geared doors down their tracks at seven miles per hour. One couldn’t help but hear the Claxon’s ugly sound as it warned of the door’s activation down the immense track. With an odd mechanical sound, the limiting levers cut off the current to the motors, shutting them down in the fully opened position. Max withdrew the Matrix key-card and returned it to its place in his pocket.

There, sitting on the Pellucidar’s hull, was Chavo, enjoying a cup of hot Java from his thermos. Beet you heeere agayne, lazybones. Said Chavo between sips. Thees makes two days eene a row, Boss. What’s weeth djoo, henywaiz, djoo slipping a geeer or whut? Max was red-faced. Hey, Dummie! I’m the one that signs your paychecks every week, so I’d get a grip on my lip if I were you, lumpy. Max said with his usual disgust and sarcasm. They were always at each other’s necks when nobody else was around. Chavo slid down the super-smooth hull and landed near Max. I brought dat new seal down and eeben eenstalled eete over two hours ago. Where were djoo, hennyways? Chavo bitched. Makin’ out your paycheck, you Beaner. Whatzit too ya! Max replied.

Let’s get that new hatch door assembly installed so we can run the final systems checks. If I can get this baby ready for testing before noon, I still have time to call in the rest of the crew and run our final fail-safe check on the ‘C-2-M’ On-board computer.

I’m ready to eete. was the response Chavo gave as he tore the new door’s crate apart with his bare hands. Who you tryin’ to impress, Mr. Schwartzeneger? There ain’t nobody here to impress. Max goaded. Hey, said Chavo in return, I donn tell djoo what pen to use when djoo make out doze checks, so donn lecture me on what tools I should use to get deese job done. Dee eemportant teeng eese to get dee job done, ain’t it?

Chavo, your logic is flawless. Max said as they positioned the new hatch on its sill and wired it up prior to riveting it in place.

The whole hull was a maze of wires, pumps, shields, relays and dials, all of which had to be double and triple checked. There wouldn’t be another chance to get it right. Once the Chamber’s program started, it had to run all the way through to its conclusion. At seventy five thousand dollars per test, all things had to be correct before starting the program.

CHAPTER 4

THE CHAMBER

The Chamber’s size, although un-important, was the end result of years of research and tons of money. N.A.S.A. had attempted to purchase