Parallel Universe

By Keith Caravaggio

The USS George Washington, while undergoing its preflight check down in orbit over Earth for its scheduled mission to Titan, is struck by a strange energy vortex. It causes the ship to crash-land in the inner sea off the coast of Denmark. All computers and communication are dead, and two of the crew members must surface to get aide. Instead of rescuers, they find Waffen SS soldiers who take them prisoner. Such an occurrence, long speculated by physicists, has never happened before, or so it was believed. Time travel was just fanciful theory unlikely to leave the realm of flashy science fiction novels, or so they thought. The baffled crew members, trying to make sense of it all, miraculously escape to England, worrying all along about incidental contact and the effect it would have. They run to the one person who has the power, and they believe, the will to help them: Winston Churchill. Churchill, however, is not who they think he is, and they are not where they think they are or when. They must save themselves with the assistance of Churchill and his crippled friend and neighbor Franklin Roosevelt, who have their own agenda and ax to grind here on their Earth. Here there is no landmass above the Yucatan, and here the British are cowards and the French brave. They must go to the one place on this Earth that is truly hell to be saved. In that place, they will redeem their integrity by throwing off the shackles they attached to themselves in the dishonorable world they come from. Their destinationAuschwitz.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524510442

Book preview

Copyright © 2016 by Keith Caravaggio.

Library of Congress Control Number:   2016909966

   ISBN:   Hardcover      978-1-5245-1046-6

               Softcover       978-1-5245-1045-9

                eBook             978-1-5245-1044-2

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.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 10/07/2016

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Contents

The Channel

Pong

The King’s Dogs

Above the Fray

Somewhere in Poland

We still must sleep.

The Madison’s Computer

Juiced

The walking dead.

The last meeting?

Lieutenant George, standing on D deck inside the USS George Washington, is pounding away on his keypad while in orbit over our still, spectacular planet Earth. He, at this moment, commands this überexpensive large spacecraft with total confidence and ease. This incredible, irreplaceable crew member is a major financial investment by the people of his time, something he never gives a moment of thought to. He looms large in the plans of men far away, yet he is a delicately built small person, a physicality that belies his true nature. The very word person was accepted into the English language to describe George and his ilk some years back. Its use was traditionally meant to separate the readers of this novel from the animal and the mechanical but has evidently evolved, as languages do. Clearly, by definition, up until fifty years ago, a person was always a human being. At that time, the English-language dictionaries changed to include George in their definitions, even though Lieutenant George is, in fact, an engineered biological replica of Homo sapiens. He is not animal or mechanical, although many mechanical devices helped create him. Like most happenings that occur to advance the development of the technology and wealth of mankind, the likes of George were needed to solve a shortcoming of our species. We failed to find a way to survive and prosper physically long after deep space missions. We designed him, and his kind, to walk and talk and reason like us, yet unlike us, they could spend years absorbing cosmic rays in claustrophobic, self-imposed prisons that now allow us to tap the wealth and mystery of the cosmos. All things considered, in many ways, they are superior to us, so their designers engineered certain traits that made them seem less threatening. In fact, they were incapable of violent acts and were programmed to be completely honest and forthcoming, or so people were led to believe. They, of course, did not share these admirable traits with their human counterparts, who, for the most part, felt constricted by such nonsense. We simply wanted them to blend in, so they were designed in appearance and demeanor to be human for the humans’ sake. This was because, at the beginning of their deployment, there were still humans on all deep space missions with them.

This arrangement continued until the outposts were established on the different moons and planets. They were called BCH then, an acronym for biologically constructed humanoids. This terminology became offensive for some humans. They decided the BCH needed equality and dropped the unintentional slur even though, unless they were on a space mission with them, very few people ever actually met one, let alone insulted one. All this window dressing was for naught because, after a while, the math did not add up and humans simply propagated themselves at their posts. Now, for the most part, space colonists never set foot on Earth. Occasionally, humans did make the trip either to test promising medical advancements or out of sheer necessity or desire to make the journey. But few really wanted to do it, deep down, because the early missions had had a bad history. In many ways, it was like crossing the Atlantic in the 1600s, minus the icebergs. Mars was another story; it was only three weeks away and filled with hope. Whatever political turmoil was there was lost in the vast, untapped promises that lay at the feet of the colonists. They had a real Martian identity, and to them, it was their New World. They were creative and ambitious in developing, with magnificent speed, a surface environment that spewed out oxygen. With the water already there, there seemed to be no limit to the possibilities. This is the state of the human frontier, our unaccepted limit.

Today, June 15, 2146, this Nexon 4 transport vessel is cruising in a high orbit over Earth. The task Lieutenant George performs with lightning speed inside D deck is remarkable. He is reprogramming the operating system on a special piece of cargo that is the reason for the transport mission he and his shipmates were ordered to carry out. He has limited time to do this because there is nothing on the itinerary scheduled for this task, and he is trying to hide it from his captain, an actual person of the human persuasion. His hands operate the keypad with superhuman speed, directed by his human-engineered brain. In appearance, if one were to see inside his skull, his gray matter looks like any human’s, his skull made of the same bone; his blood, their blood. He is their spawn; however, he is committing treason against them, and they are clueless. They thought themselves safe, believing their children were incapable of such thoughts, let alone such actions. Their children are loyal. They themselves designed them to be that way; therefore, they are. That’s what they told themselves over and over without a hint of suspicion.

Just outside the cabin, some fifty yards away from where George stands, protected from the life-ending space vacuum that surrounds it by its Maintenance Environmental Suite, his accomplice is helping carry out the sleight of hand. She is also a BCH, named Sophia, and mysteriously added to the mission at the last second, she is accompanying Captain Jendrowski, a human male of the traditional kind. She knows he personally checks the repairs done to a sensory coupling by actually seeing them firsthand. Unbeknownst to the captain, the repairs are unnecessary. Getting him out of the ship at this point in time is the reason for her involvement. George needs the captain away from the internal computers and distracted. The captain’s timing of the inspection isn’t by the book either, but he goes along with Sophia’s request. That’s when it happens. George does not understand what he is seeing on his computer; it makes no sense to him. It is showing an exterior explosion of unfathomable proportions while freezing as if it were terrified of its discovery. It offers no explanation or options. He resets; it does not. He speaks to Sophia from where he stands through their intercom. She can hear George; the captain cannot.

Get inside quickly—we have a problem, he says.

Captain, I believe we’re finished here, Sophia says instantly to her captain.

What? Lieutenant Sophia, aren’t you enjoying the view?

It’s spectacular, Captain, but I feel guilty about Lieutenant George doing all the work, and besides, it’s a bit chilly out here. Thought I might make you a nice cup of hot cocoa, she says, smiling at her captain, who has drifted close enough for him to see her beautiful eyes. He smiles back spontaneously.

You know, Lieutenant, I’m breaking a few rules here. How do you feel about that?

Well, sir, it’s the captain’s prerogative to visually inspect external repairs before mission commencement, but our cargo has conflicting regulations regarding the timing—

Oh yes, gray areas. Do they bother you? the captain asks.

Yes, they do, because they seem to be dishonest.

"Ever since the James Madison disappeared, bureaucrats need to cover their asses. It’s about survivability, you know, politics."

That’s a topic I don’t care to understand, she says. As she speaks, she is startled by the sudden appearance of a distant swirl of light directly behind the captain. It grows in scale and brightness at enormous speed. It looks like an enormous curtain, folded and billowing, as if in a wind. Sophia taps her propulsion controls and reaches out for her captain. She taps right, making contact with him, spinning the two of them back toward the exterior hatch. The captain is startled by the sudden contact and freezes.

What the—, he spews out.

Hatch 303 open, she says as they speed toward the opening hatch door.

Hatch 303 close, she commands. The lieutenant has timed her orders to open and close the door at optimal speed as the mysterious energy force barrels down on the ship. They are a second away as the hatch fully opens, then recalibrates, and starts to close. The door is shutting; Lieutenant Sophia shoots through, but the captain doesn’t, hitting his head and shoulder on the outer surface of the ship. The slow-moving hatch door is almost closed as Lieutenant Sophia’s hand and shoulder, then arm, force her way through from the inside. She opens it completely, grabbing the captain and pulling him in behind her. The door suddenly closes as Sophia and the captain land on the interior floor of the hatch. Sophia grabs at the captain’s helmet and sees he is bloodied and unconscious.

Outside, the curtain of light strikes out with incredible force, barely touching the George Washington. Like a child whipping the end of a wet towel at a wall, it strikes so small an area, yet with nerve-shattering force. There is a moment of time in stillness, deafening silence. The interior of the ship has gone dark as if someone has turned off the light switch and pulled down the breaker in the basement at the exact, same time. Everything is dead. Sophia holds her breath and waits. Suddenly, the ship awakens in a violent convulsion with brightly piercing lights, and sounds bounce inside off the outer surface. Sophia jumps on top of Captain Jendrowski, grabbing a railing and levering her boot under a metal bench in an attempt to prevent the captain from crashing around in the hatchway. The small chamber is surprisingly calm. The energy wave that struck it has disappeared, as if consumed by the electrical system of the ship when it went silent. The ship then regains some of its power, but there’s trouble brewing. The computers are down, and there is bedlam on the command deck. Many circuits are showing no power at all; some suddenly come to life with bogus readings, only to shut down seconds later.

Lieutenant George left the D deck before the inexplicable strike and is just now pulling himself into the command chair. He sees the chaos in front of him on the display panels. Whatever hit the George Washington seems to have fried the circuitry and any chance at gathering information quickly. Lieutenant George goes into training mode and immediately tries to make contact with Earth. Every system he tries fails. He tries again but quickly gives up, realizing that if they are going to be saved, they will have to save themselves. If they are still in a high orbit, they will have the time to make the corrections, or they can transport themselves off the vessel. If they are not in a sustainable orbit, there will be serious problems, and Lieutenant George had sensed a significant shift in momentum when they were struck—not good. The question is, where is their momentum now? They had absorbed a lot of energy on the port side, and they are now traveling on a different course. This, George now believes to be true, but in what direction? The design of the intercom between him and Sophia separated them from the computer system or any outside scrutiny, for that matter. It is a BCH secret that, until a few seconds ago, had always functioned flawlessly. Inexplicably, she had noticed a momentary disconnect she’d attributed to a brief loss of consciousness.

Captain Jendrowski is unconscious in bay 303. What is our condition? Sophia calmly inquires.

The core generator is down. We are operating on battery backup only, replies Lieutenant George.

My intercom went down. I lost consciousness.

I lost mine too, momentarily. Whatever hit us short-circuited all electronics and us apparently, everything. The power surge? I’m trying to reboot. Nothing yet. We are beginning to experience extreme external turbulence of some sort. I don’t think we’ve been pushed into the troposphere, but that appears to be the only explanation. It seems to be physically impossible for that energy wave to have pushed us that far down. It would have to have been a huge explosion of a sort that would have certainly destroyed the ship.

Lieutenant George looks again through the front portal. What he sees is utterly shocking. The ship appears to suddenly be in a vortex of light and energy as if being sucked down a monstrous, overwhelming drain. The ship begins to shake. The shaking worsens. Suddenly, a fast-approaching ball of light appears on a collision course with the ship.

Brace yourself, orders George.

The ball of light collides with the ship, sending a strange surge of energy through it and the crew. They momentarily lose consciousness again, Lieutenant Sophia on top of her already unconscious captain in bay 303 and Lieutenant George watching the drama through his portal in a state of dreamlike confusion. They both awaken seconds later. Sophia is staring at her captain, and George is now mesmerized by a scene of total darkness. There are no stars, no lights, no ship, and no planet Earth, just darkness, total vacuum blackness, as if the space sky filled with endless stars was turned off by a switch. Just as suddenly as this happens, the stars return with their light. If George were truly human, he would doubt his eyes and call this a brain malfunction and move on. No, something else has just happened, but something more immediate is slowly returning in the form of the Earth’s horizon. It appears to George that the ship is sinking back down to the planet, where it will burn and explode in the atmosphere. They have somehow been pushed into a dangerously low orbit. If they don’t get control, they will count the remaining time in their lives in minutes.

What has happened? Lieutenant Sophia asks through her intercom mike.

Our present position is approximately the same, though drastically lower. We are entering the troposphere. Leave Captain Jendrowski and get back here.

Lieutenant George, in desperation, tries to regain control over the ship any way possible. Sophia enters the NavCom and sits at his side. George is typing commands on the keypad as he glances at Sophia.

We are in a quickly degrading orbit. We need to reboot and fire up our engines. We don’t have much time. On my mark, open system drive reboot, George barks out as Sophia, almost in tandem with him, hits the keys.

Nothing. Try routing through a neuron pulse, dangerous, Sophia adds.

Dangerous, yes. On my mark … go, George orders.

Lieutenant Sophia hits the keys in sync with Lieutenant George. The ship shakes on the command and shudders to its core as some control returns as the horizon slowly lowers. George points at Sophia with a cautious sense of relief.

All power route to NavCom and propulsion. I think we’ve got maybe 20 percent back, no more.

What about Captain Jendrowski?

If our orbit is not stabilized, we’ll all be gone. Captain Jendrowski is already a dead man.

As Lieutenant George says this, a dazed and groggy Jendrowski appears at the hatch door.

What? he barks out as he touches his bleeding skull.

"We’ve been struck by an unknown energy wave, visible light and energy of enormous force, off the charts. It knocked out all power, sensors, and navigation. Unclear as to the status of our cargo. We are in a quickly degrading orbit. We rerouted