The Drakos Effect

By Joe Sharcoff

In the 22nd century, the people of Earth inhabit giant, fusion-powered cities sprawling across the planet. In addition, they are hosting the Cephians: advanced plantlike aliens who have come to assess humankind’s readiness for joining their galactic community. Although they are friendly, the aliens have been in the solar system for forty years, and humanity’s patience and trust are wearing thin, at times violently so.

Eminent astrobiologist Dr. Shana Savarino feels otherwise. She admires the Cephians’ quiet, strategic wisdom. She also has environmental concerns for her planet, as well as long-standing and personal issues with humans, and so she prefers the company of the visitors. Meanwhile, human scientists discover a mysterious object buried deep beneath a giant crater in Mexico: a powerful, sentient artifact that harbors a secret concerning humanity’s origins. Accidently awakened by nuclear bombs, the object now seeks to wipe out all life on Earth, and it seems only Shana has a chance of stopping the disaster.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Feb 3, 2018
• ISBN: 9781532035272

Joe Sharcoff

Joe Sharcoff has lived most of his life in New York, although he spent some time in California, where he earned a degree in clinical psychology. In addition to writing, he also enjoys working out, lucid dreaming, and even getting older. Happily married and the father of a daughter, he retired after serving for almost thirty years as a psychologist for the New York City public high schools.

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Copyright © 2018 Joe Sharcoff.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

iUniverse

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Because of the dynamic nature of the internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

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

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ISBN: 978-1-5320-3526-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-3528-9 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-5320-3527-2 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017918259

iUniverse rev. date: 04/23/2021

Contents

Acknowledgments

Part 1: Roused

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Part 2: Essence

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Part 3: Clear

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

About the Author

To the family I was born into, I dedicate this long-overdue

work to you, for getting stuck with me from the get-go.

Acknowledgments

To the staffs of iUniverse and Cornerstones LC, thank you for

your help and suggestions for improving the manuscript. They

were seriously enlightening, as well as empirically constructive.

Mostly, to my wife and daughter, thank you so much

for letting me indulge in this uncertain pursuit, day

after day, month after month, year after year.

Part 1

Roused

Rest, rest, perturbed spirit!

—William Shakespeare, Hamlet

ThinkstockPhotos-cover.jpg

1

The Yucatan, Mexico, Long Ago

Tumbling, the mountain fell with no sound until it hit the atmosphere. It filled existence below it with thunder before striking Earth with white-hot, globe-quaking force. Shock waves echoed through the planet, triggering volcanic eruptions on the far side, while billions of tons of glowing, searing ejecta were blasted away from the impact site. All life near ground zero never knew it had died. The sweeping continental fire to follow, and then the long, deadly cold that would blanket the world, would finish off most of whatever had survived. No place offered haven: not land, not the air, not the sea.

Evolution’s climb toward saurian intelligence, and the rise of a future, had been stopped.

* * *

Central California, Early September, 2160

So this is hate, murmured the alien biologist. Backed to the edge of the cliff, the Cephian peered across the valley with its stalked, long-range senses as its starfishy fingerlegs rapidly thought-tapped harness controls. Do you want to try something? he asked his human companion.

Still gripping rocks to hurl, Dr. Shana Savarino replied, Like what?

My harness impellers might break our fall. Shana’s green eyes went wide as it hit her what he was saying. Charles Darwin added, Calculations place survival at 31 percent.

Their pursuers were very near, that glowing blade audibly crackling. Shana stared right back into blade-wielder’s eye and said to her Cephian friend, Either way, they get zero. She dropped on top of him. Go!

Jaws dropped on some of the six who had chased them up the mountain, as human and Cephian fell away through the clean, open air.

* * *

Earlier that morning, astrobiologist Shana Savarino had sought peace.

With blazing blue space around her, she spread her arms wide, filling her lungs with late-summer air and vibrant sunshine and feeling tension drain from her heart and mind. From her vantage point atop the rocky summit of El Capitan, the lush green forest, meadow, and gentle river of Yosemite Valley stretched out below with all the radiance of life.

Quietly, Shana was taking in this comforting, protected treasure.

Had a man been with her, he might have admired the curves and peaks of Dr. Savarino, despite the modest hiking suit, or her smooth olive skin and dark hair. The bluish-green creature gliding up behind her, however, was not a man. It was not even an animal, not even Earthborn.

Quiet as a leaf borne by a breeze, the Cephian floated across the rock and soil, a flat, broad creature five feet long and four wide. Its stalked, long-range senses dilated, this for full sensitivity in the dim, cool light of Earth’s sun. The being emitted electrical-sounding snaps and sizzles: it was speaking before its translated voice, masculine and kind, quickly took over.

The Cephian, named Charles Darwin, said, This place transforms you. I see no bloodlust in your posture.

Shana smiled at his choice of words, adjusting her visor and gazing across the valley. Bloodlust, huh, she replied in a soft, cool voice. You know I’d give both legs to see what you call home.

That would be a small, hot planet six thousand light-years away. Fortunately, said Charlie, you should be able to stay intact.

I’d love to put that to the test.

The chance remains. To show you my world would bring us both great joy.

Yeah, if we’re admitted, Shana thought, wishing Charlie could say more, give some hint regarding the Forever Decision. But she also knew Cephian protocol.

They admired the view from El Capitan for a moment more before returning to the main trail.

With Charles Darwin floating alongside at hip level, Shana recalled the first time she had tried, and failed, to say his real name—or speak any Cephian—remembering well the eerie staccato sizzle of his laughter. In addition to job indicators, phonemes beyond human expression were another reason these leaflike beings, those working closely with people, adopted human monikers. Easygoing even by Cephian standards, Charlie that day had further assured his host that no disrespect was intended toward her efforts; indeed, he admired her for trying. Repeating her cartoony attempts to sound like a burning electrical current, even Shana could see the humor.

Their friendship had started right then, and there were joys, right here on Earth, that Shana wanted to share with her unique guest.

The trail they were following she knew by heart. When she was growing up in nearby Fresno, Yosemite North American Park had been her playground, her backyard. Subtly engineered and monitored, it was one of the few great preserves left on the continent, where eagles could still fly.

Lately, though, Shana had been worrying for its future.

It was as if she could feel the earth trembling beneath her feet from the prodigious, accumulated weight of human activity. History attested to prior generations pulling more and more sophisticated tricks to keep the planet going, despite the expansion of humanity. For the last ninety years, biome upgrading had been the course pursued, bringing investors profit by fortifying, indeed even expanding, the most crucial natural regions, as well as super-scrubbing the air. Experts regularly testified to conditions improving worldwide, but Shana was buying none of that, convinced it all was not enough, that tricks and profit still ruled.

Shana Savarino did not trust her kind, definitely not en masse. And the lure of the stars, to leave this all behind, remained ungrasped, only exacerbating that distrust.

The two scientists entered the shelter of the trees, where the morning sunlight, so clean today, dappled the leaves with gold. The environmental adaptation harness the Cephian wore granted limited flight so he could keep up with his human friend, a feat otherwise not possible with his starfish-like fingerlegs. With close-range senses rimming the front of his broad, flat body, Charles Darwin was absorbing forest with rapt attention. He had never visited a planet with so much cold water and highly varied, low-temperature life.

Birds chirped and fluttered overhead. At a trail junction Shana paused, taking a sip of water, and said, We went right last time. She licked her lips, feeling where the upper one was scarred. Let’s go this way. They headed left.

For a while, they hiked without speaking. Then, with a sizzle and snap, Charlie asked, Shana, did you go away?

Dr. Savarino broke from her reverie. Damn that it showed; she didn’t want Charlie suspecting her thoughts and feeling guilty for following Decision protocol. Shana said, Just inhaling nature, Charlie. Just breathing to fit it all in.

A year ago, her acceptance to lead the Cephian Alliance Team at Continuum Virtuals had been a perfect fit, indeed a dream job. It had allowed a friendship to begin with the Cephians largely because she, personally, had never held suspicions about the Forever Decision, suspicions simmering in the human population at large.

The Cephian starship, a moon-sized ovoid, had been in Solar space for forty years. For alien starfarers this may have been business as usual, but for humans, the Decision was taking, well, seemingly forever. Cephian dignitaries had been ordered to never say a word about it, and Shana respected the wisdom of that, believing in their fairness. In the meantime, formal relations were pleasant, and, concerns aside, humanity was reaping some intense scientific benefits.

These beings from a far star were here not just to observe Earth’s dominant species but also to interact with it, noting, among other things, its adaptation to an expanded perspective.

The two biologists hiked on, pausing now and then to note a vista or organism Shana thought her friend would find interesting. Twice they encountered other early park visitors, most regarding the extrasolar being with tempered acceptance—though not the children, who were quite curious and wanted to touch it. They delighted in discovering how warm and fuzzy it was.

By late morning, Shana said, We’d better start back. She removed her visor to free her big green eyes and then brushed back a lock of medium-length hair. Despite the large transverse facial scar she bore, at forty years of age, Shana Savarino could still capture any male or female human’s attention.

This was another reason she liked being with the Cephians: her appearance, in any way, made no difference to them. With them, as opposed to with human company, she could relax, be herself, and not be concerned with undertones of sex, rivalry, or power.

Unfortunately, others of her kind, Shana knew, did not make avoidance easy.

On a secondary dirt path a few miles from park HQ, Charles Darwin alerted her to humans paralleling them off trail. Harness sensors read six.

Shana said, Keep them spotted. Again, not everyone liked the extrasolar visitors. She hoped nothing of consequence would develop.

The Cephian’s next words dispelled that hope. Charlie said, They’re angling in, apparent intercept, and one is now registering an acute electron flux. Conceivably, a weapon.

Weapons were illegal in the park, but some could be hidden nano-piecemeal in cybernetic clothing. Brain biters, in particular, were simple, nasty things, igniting seizures so terrible muscle ripped from bone. Through newsstream, Shana had seen deep-city lurkers use them on spasming, screaming search officers. She netlinked park HQ to report her concern.

A ground drone will respond, HQ replied.

Shana considered alternate routes to the closest ranger post. For that, she did not need any net global positioning. She pointed left to dense flora and instructed Charlie, This way.

Green leafy branches pressed on them, whipping back with sharp rustles after letting them pass. They’re closing, the Cephian alerted her. They may be tracking my harness aura.

That’s bad; where the hell is that drone? Shana wondered. A shiver gripped her spine at the thought of a ghost amid park personnel, compromising all levels of security.

They cut back to a broad, main gravelly path, where Shana called for emergency pickup via the netlink she wore. Staying put, they soon spotted their stalkers, farther downhill, coming out of the brush into the clear. Four men and two women were wearing cybernetic hiking clothes, like Shana’s, themed in earth tones. Seeing the human and floating Cephian, they quickened their pace toward them.

Come on, said Shana. They had to head back to the cliffs, but at least now they would gain time for a skycruiser to reach them.

A fast walk became a jog and then almost a run. They could not shake their pursuers. Shana Savarino was strong from a lifetime of hiking but, soon breathing deeply, could not keep this up much longer. Charlie said to her, Hop aboard.

Shana saddled her solid, five-six frame across the alien’s broad back, whereupon they began pulling away from the pursuing group. Shana looked back and saw in their faces crimson anger. She hoped, maybe soon, they’d get exhausted and give up.

Trees ended. Up ahead was a rocky precipice, with still no cruiser in sight. Damn! Shana thought, wondering if her pickup request had gone through. She wished Charlie had brought a weapon, but Cephians rarely did, as a show of good faith. Well-prepared humans were now taking advantage of that goodwill.

Cloudless blue sky beckoned beyond the edge. Straight down to rocks and trees was a half-mile drop. That had never bothered Shana before. Now it cornered them.

Their pursuers stopped some fifty feet away, gloating, catching their breaths. A bearded man with a glowing blade yelled, Leave it, fem! We only want the Leaf! A woman at his side ran a tongue over her bloodred upper lip.

Shana knew they were both targets, for she was the Leaf’s friend. As the group began to close, she slid off the Cephian’s back and snatched two big stones, cocking a trembling arm with the first. Damn this! Shana cried out, focusing fear and fury as she aimed for the blade-wielder’s head. Charlie, I’m so, so sorry for this.

So this is hate, murmured the alien biologist.

And now, they were falling.

Harness systems whined as impeller fields searched for ground, all the while keeping the Cephian horizontal. Her dark hair wind-blasted, Shana held on white-knuckled, her eyes shut so tightly they hurt. She could feel the rolling pulses of Charlie’s body, his hundreds of circulatory ventricles racing in sequence, as the alien astrobiologist feared for his own life.

Below, solid rock rushed to greet them.

A smartsap missile hit first, sprouting into a web and catching them. At the other end of the line was a large, sleek forest-green wedge: a whisper-silent, park ranger skycruiser.

Through netlink, its pilot probed, Dr. Savarino, are you hurt?

Shana checked herself over, and then she checked her friend, who was also unharmed though clinging to the grayish web strands with every extended fingerleg. She called back, No, we’re good; we’re both good. Thank you … thank you …

As the cruiser reeled them in, Shana imagined, for the umpteenth time, leaving the system and the whole human race to its biased, convoluted, infuriating affairs. But with leaving not an option, real hope lay in showing the Cephians the good that people can do, even if those people were far and few between. We have to be relentless, Shana knew—she and other scientists, human beings she did like. The stakes were simply too high to let it all slip away.

2

With both passengers secured, the pilot gunned his skycruiser’s ion fans: twin high-speed cartwheels of orange light set in the undercarriage. The vehicle soared to the top of the cliff. The pilot had hoped to web those who had threatened the astrobiologists, but the six had taken off as soon as the rangers had showed.

We’re linking to all units, said the pilot, including all ground and tunnel drones. Don’t worry, doc. We’ll get ’em.

Unless the Eye gets to them first, thought Shana.

It was a quick ride back to park HQ, a triad of modern cabins on cleared grounds, where medical staff made sure Shana and (as best they could) her guest were well. Debriefing ensued and reports were filed, while actions had already begun to find and seal security leaks. Global Defense Force skycruisers, charcoal wedges also driven by spinning orange light, and heavily armed, were soon after transporting Shana and Charlie back to Continuum Virtuals.

Shana refrained from asking Charlie the obvious question: would this incident be reported to his superiors, the nameless ones on the ship, known only by title? Of course it would be reported; this was the fourth direct attack on Cephians this year. The CV scientist wiped a lone tear from her olive-skinned cheek.

Please don’t be upset, said Charles Darwin.

Both hands balling into fists, tight and shaking, Shana watched townsprawl, an expanse of low-rise buildings, flow by below. She said with a thick voice, Sorry. Sorry for the whole damn mess.

You are not responsible.

I feel responsible. As a member of the human race, I feel responsible, embarrassed. And angry. Shana was feeling the bloodlust.

After a brief silence, the Cephian said, Your moral vector binds you. I empathize.

Transit time to CV was only minutes. Located at what had once been Soda Lake, California, it was the center for the Cephian scientific presence on Earth. Continuum Virtuals was one of the most advanced spacetime research facilities in the Solar System, complete with its own fusion pod and Odin links, and specializing in virtual journeys and realities. Not for nothing, it had quickly become too expensive for the United States to run unaided, yet too important to shut down. Like Odin, or for that matter Yosemite, it too fell under the auspices of the Commonwealth.

The facility’s squat fluted building, dull white, was coming into view. The place had grown fortresslike over the years, with tall perimeter walls and automated sky-defense towers, and extending underground. Near the visible portion of the main building rested a spherical Cephian spacecraft: a shuttle between Earth and the gigantic Cephian mother ship.

In all these years, no human had ever set foot inside one of these alien silvery wonders. In interplanetary space, the shuttles had demonstrated faster-than-light speed. For humans, this highlighted what to pursue for groundbreaking research in physics. The Autogenic Dassa-Alcubierre metric looked especially promising.

Shana sat up as their cruiser landed close to the Cephian starshuttle. CV scientists in dark-gray facility coveralls were waiting for them. A six-footer in his late twenties, lean but strong, made sure he was first to take hold of Shana before the hatch had even fully opened. Good to see ya in one piece, Chief, he said, helping her out. Shana fixed on the overeager voice, the blond ponytail, and small, flashing blue eyes. She was actually glad to see him.

Thank you, Keefer, she said to Dr. Ferren, her team interfacer, universal class.

Others gathered as Charles Darwin disembarked, some greeting him or showing concern by brushing their arms along his long-range sense stalk. As the GDF skycruiser sealed up and lifted, Continuum Virtual’s silver-haired director, Dr. Horace Batu, approached. A brown-skinned older man, of broad face and body, he watched closely as the chief assured everyone that she and Charlie were unharmed. Dr. Batu could see physically this was true. He directed his attention to the Cephian.

He spoke in a fine, deep timbre. Dr. Darwin, on behalf of humanity’s kinder nature, I apologize for what happened. How may we make amends?

Dr. Batu, none are necessary. However, protocol dictates I return to base.

Said Ferren, Yer buddy Newton’s already aboard, waitin’ for ya.

We hope you return soon, said Batu. Others echoed that; they worried how yet another incident would figure into the Decision. Batu continued, You know you’re always safe here. I’ve even made sure your identity and Shana’s stay offnet once this becomes news.

Shana had not considered that. Batu was eyeing her. She gave a small nod of gratitude.

A petite woman with short, dark hair came forward. In her late thirties, she had a plain though pleasant face, which relaxed upon her seeing her team leader was not hurt. A quiet, normally contained woman, astrophysicist Rose Hsu greeted Shana with a broad, rare smile.

Glad to see you too, Rose, Shana responded. They hugged gently.

Said Dr. Hsu in her small, articulate voice, What you did awes me.

We couldn’t have replaced ya, Chief, injected Ferren, noting his boss in her hiking attire. And you’d miss all the inevitable discoveries on N-212100-b. Even Dr. D wouldn’t want you to miss that.

Staccato sizzles sounded: Cephian laughter. Charlie said, Your efforts to understand us are impressive and inspiring. As you might say, stay the course.

Batu said, The work can wait. Shana, go home. Collect yourself.

Going home meant being alone with her anger and dark thoughts. She did not think that wise. Shana said to him, Not yet. Later, after I calm down a bit. I promise.

A promise best kept, my dear. Dr. Darwin, we shall eagerly await your return.

Thank you. Shana, at some point, I would like to return to Yosemite.

"Please reconsider that," said Horace.

Charlie and I’ll discuss it, Shana said, smiling.

The flat, greenish extrasolar being bid farewell and boarded the starshuttle. Concentric yellow circles, port and starboard, began expanding along its brushed-silver hull as impeller fields came on. Softly moaning, the spherical sixty-foot vessel lifted high, going straight up, before it was out of sight, with nary a swoosh or sonic boom.

All right, back to your playrooms, Batu said to all. He did let Shana and her team linger as he ushered the rest away.

I suppose I should freshen up, Shana said.

Need an escort? Ferren offered.

Shana gave him a look. He’d seen it before and stepped back. Nonetheless, because of her current mood, she further warned, Stow it, and proceeded toward the main building, with Rose beside her. Dr. Hsu was snickering.

Ferren followed quietly behind them, shaking his ponytailed head.

Once they were inside on the main floor, Dr. Savarino approached and entered her office suite. Upfront the suite was simple and monochromatic, with themes of space and silvery ships; the rear living area featured faux wood and stone, a small gelbed, and other basic amenities. As she stepped from her boots, Shana yearned to close her green eyes. With a rush of preemptive strength, she padded to the bathroom, slipping off and dropping the rest of her clothing along the way. She was typically neater than this, but at the moment, that was out of mind. She felt like she was walking through a dream.

Spray on 1, Shana said, stepping into the shower and then watching as her hand started trembling. She began to sob and covered her mouth, fighting not to come apart at the seams as a sense of falling, in waves, rolled through her. Shana’s knees buckled. As warm water rained down on her, she forced herself to straighten up, breathe deeply, and get an emotional grip.

I’m still here … I’m still here … she thought while leaning against the soft, wet tile.

Still shaking, she showered quickly, fiercely, and then donned fresh dark gray coveralls, which sensed and conformed to her frame. Leaving her hair damp but tying it back, Shana needed to get to work. Checking her appearance in the holomir, making sure she looked together and could focus, she left her suite for the levels underground, for the real brains and guts of the Continuum Virtuals complex.

* * *

The lab she entered greeted her with a star.

Floating in semidarkness was the image of a red supergiant: Betelgeuse, 640 light-years away and ready to go supernova. Shana approached a nearby, comfortably seated Dr. Ferren, the blue irises of his eyes containing tiny current flows. Interfacing with CV’s artificial intelligence, Ferren was in full mental command of the six-foot-diameter virtual. No one did it better. His arms on the chair’s rests, he said, Just warmin’ up, Chief.

Nice, said Shana, stepping in close. She was particularly impressed with the sharpness of the red star’s churning, granular surface.

He’s taking liberties with the convection cells, Hsu complained. She was seated at a console, working good ol’-fashioned touch screens. Like Dr. Savarino, she was not an interfacer.

Ferren said, That’s because, for all we know, this star already blew itself up.

Is this a priority? asked Shana, wanting to go elsewhere.

Following some final tweaking, Ferren imploded the image, leaving them in dim light. Have a seat, he said with a smile, gesturing toward