Right Of Entry

By R. Art Baker

A smorgasbord of twists and turns, "Right of Entry" has it all. Desperate humanity seeking survival, super advanced technology, an entombed starship, brilliant military strategies, and a mysteriously depopulated Earth, "Right of Entry" begs the question: Where are all the people? Join a cast of colorful characters being crushed by an avalanche of dilemmas. This rambunctious deep state tale will sweep you into cascading mysteries with never ending new complications.

At its core, "Right of Entry" is the story of desperate individuals trying to survive a perilous planet and uncover exactly what happened. In a fight for survival, the group encounters others along the way who assist them in their trek for safety, but a safe place becomes difficult to find with continuing arguments. Looming in the shadows, the government remains vigilant in an attempt to prevent them from finding their haven or place to hide. On a collision course for a colossal clash, "Right of Entry" makes you question what alien forces are pulling the strings when we aren't looking, and do they have the right to occupy our planet?

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 18, 2022
• ISBN: 9781667831664

Book preview

cover.jpg

BOOK DESCRIPTION

Right of Entry has it all. A smorgasbord of plot twists and turns. Desperate humanity seeking survival. Super advanced technology. An entombed starship. Brilliant military strategies. A mysteriously depopulated Earth. Where are all the people? A cast of colorful characters being crushed by an avalanche of dilemmas. This rambunctious deep state tale will sweep you into solved mysteries with never ending new complications. Empires in collision, without knowing the enemy. Who are these aliens, and do they have the Right of Entry to occupy planet after planet? It is solved by novels end. Or is it? Follow this heart pounding saga to its super conclusion.

I would like to thank all the members of the team that produced this novel, especially Robert A. Haenggi who developed one of the greatest concepts that I would not have thought of, excellent job guys and gals. R. Art Baker

Author: R. Art Baker

Contributors: Robert Haenggi.

Editor: Mary Eleanor Haenggi, Indio, California.

Cover Design Artwork: Cheryl Saches, Saint George, Utah.

ISBN: 978-1-66783-166-4

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the locations and characters are mostly fictitious and not intended to represent exact places or living persons. Any statements made by deceased historical figures are mostly correct but may not be an exact quote.

Copyright 2021 © R. Art Baker

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written

permission from the publishers

CONTENTS

CRASHED

TONY’S NIGHTMARE

NO CONCEIVABLE WAY

THE BEAST

TRAPPED

PERMISSION TO SUBJUGATE

WAIT IN THE DARKNESS

IN CALIFORNIA

MULTIPLICITY OF QUESTIONS

DARK BASE AT WHIDBEY ISLAND

THE CHIEF’S TREK

PACK OF SMOKES

LIKE PIGS THAN KINGS

LIFE THROUGH ILLUMINATION

THE BEST WEAPON

THE OLD MAN WHO HAD AN EVIL GRIN

MORE THAN OLD BRAVE’S TALES

A SMOLDERING VEHICLE

ONE CRYPTIC MESSAGE

WE HAD THEM AT DREAMLAND

BELLY OF THE BEAST

MOTORBIKE

HIGHWAY TO HELL

RACHEL SPRINGS

CHANGING TIMES

LIKE SPIRITS OF THE EARTH

RACHEL SPRINGS

FLAMING DEBRIS

WOLF’S LAIR

LOOSE THE DRONES OF WAR

ACT OF WAR

RUINS

KOSH-PO-KOKO-ILKO

CAPTURE

ORION 26

BY THE FIRST GODS

INCARNATE

CONTINUITY OF GOVERNMENT

MEETING OF THE MINDS

TOO MANY HELMETS

MEETING ON THE MOUNTAIN

OUT OF RESPECT

CULTURE OF SUBJUGATION

STATE OF WAR

THUNDER-BOOMIES

I WOULD NOT ANGER HER FURTHER

ALASKA RAMEN

DID YOU BRING WARRIORS?

HOW LONG WERE YOU WAITING FOR US?

THE UTE

RAINBOW CREVASSE

GENERAL’S DESIRE

OUT OF THE DARK

EARTH SIDE

WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

WIN, LOSE, OR DRAW

SECOND FLEET

BAIKAL SPACE CENTER

MASS SENSITIVITY

25-MEGATONS

MASKED FEELINGS

CRASHED

North America 11,309 BC

The fires subsided with a hovering, thick layer of white smoke and steam covering the canyon region. The site, where the Colony Ship crashed, glowed, and radiated, for several miles on that moonless night. Previously damaged in a desperate escape from its home world during wartime conditions, the craft slid for over two miles. It created a canyon into the lush undergrowth, exploded trees, and vaporized all lower vegetation in its path. From a distance, it appeared a magma stream blending into the mountains. The ship finally stopped after careening sideways into the base of a high desert plateau. The loose shale of a massive overhang collapsed and immediately engulfed the super-heated ship. The sandstone liquefied, creating a flowing, molten shield that sealed off all but one escape-route. Chances for the crew’s survival worsened when main power failed. Fires and poisonous gases on board killed most personnel, livestock, plants, and tree saplings. A small remaining stock of seeds in a rear storage bay survived, along with a few hand-weapons. One item the survivors were especially glad to retrieve a rod-like energy weapon, because it could be utilized as a cutting or welding tool. These survivors were a tiny number of technocrats with varied common knowledge, and they were severely limited without their machines.

They selected their first new leader, a man named KO-Pelli-ko, for his valuable knowledge of bioengineering, medical experience, and the Medical Minister of their abandoned government. The realization that the crashed ship now buried beyond detection allowed some necessary time to conceal their camp. While still possible their adversaries would be seeking them, the enemy would have no idea where to search for the hyper-light-speed ship. The cooling stone shield would protect and hide the craft for potential future use. For now, they must construct blended, defensible shelter outside, in the event robotic drones came to search the planet. A single, light communications device worn by one survivor could detect long-range signals, however, it would not send. They began their life, building abodes under the edges of the more stable limestone cliffs.

Using the Rod weapon, they were able to quickly excavate cisterns, and cut and shape blocks of limestone beneath the overhangs, constructing apartment like dwellings.

The equipment necessary for any type of continued technology, unfortunately abandoned and not retrieved from the craft in the frenzied rush to escape. Fleeing the attack in the damaged vessel, they did have time to research or be aware of prior data on genetics conducted on this planet dating back eighty-eight-thousand years.

By the time, the stone covering cooled, the ship was now inaccessible. Using the Rod to break through would deplete its energy and render it useless for building shelters and essentials. They believed they were alone, and that no other intelligent life lived there. KO-Pelli-ko then guided their lives under the cliffs for nine centuries. KO-Pelli-ko’s schedule of breeding and crossing of DNA produced slightly smaller progeny that required less food, and his children became the successors to his scientific legacy. After eight hundred eighty-five years, they encountered the Indigenous inhabitants of the continent. There was an immediate generic mixing of both peoples. Soon, the lower Paleolithic nomads acquired the tools and ability to construct dwellings and grow crops like the colonists. Both peoples flourished in lush grassy valleys surrounded by muted purple mountains, and the stories of the home world became myths passed down from generation to generation, known as the First Ones or Ancients from Orion, they became godlike teachers, builders, and the first astronomers of the old American Southwest.

Tony’s Nightmare

The group of officers sat, sipped beverages, and waited around the huge carved inlaid table inside the underground base, Rainbow Crevasse. Its’ name came from a local mineral deposit on the Indian Reservation above. Two years earlier, after an Earthquake opened a fissure, a large anomaly of radiation found by satellites, the government moved in quickly. For the first time in this generation, the Hopi Tribal Council did not have a choice in any decision in the matter, though they did receive a large remuneration with a promise of the land returned when the government completed its business. This is the first acquisition of Indian Reservation land since the mid-19th century. It is off limits now to the tribe and others in the name of the National Security Agency.

Although the polished stone table considered suitable to seat thirty, it appeared small within the freshly cut conference room in the cavern. The natural walls were finished with laser and gave the appearance of old vitrified stone. Large, rubber-backed carpet runners were laid to prevent any hurrying personnel from slipping on the polished natural stone floors. Video monitors attached to the walls displayed the words, Signal Transmission Data, at different pulsing frequencies. An enormous accordioned blackout curtain concealed a massive window that allowed a view into a darkened cavern. Cigars and cigarettes lay partially smoked in ashtrays at the rear of the room, with ashes gathered on uncovered stone sections of the floor. An energetic robotic vacuum cleaner, programmed to clean every thirty minutes, busily sweeping the piles left by the sloppy officers. Smaller TV trays placed to the near chairs at the rear held empty coffee cups and bits of half-eaten donuts and chips.

Several open charts sat on the table, with scribbled notes in red ink beside drawn jittery sine waves. Other papers lay mixed in all different directions stacked upon each other. The smallest man among their number sat near the head of the inlaid table: Anthony Z. Tony Wasilewski. He fidgeted and stared at the stainless-steel double doors. Glasses balanced near the end of his nose bestowed an appearance of the typical academic. A physicist who earned a master’s degree in nuclear sciences before his twenty-first birthday, Tony now at the pinnacle of his profession. Tony went to work for the Department of Defense soon after he earned his PhD in astrophysics. His work location being at Area 51, nicknamed Dreamland.

After working ten years in Nevada, he transferred to Arizona. The only time that he considered his own was when he commuted between his new cavern office to his condominium 25 minutes away in Rachel Springs, a town well known for its views of the high plateaus. He continued to be struck by the deep vermillion cliffs and pinnacles that challenged all and tested their abilities to replicate the infinite color spectrums. Fiery sunsets would distract the noisy tourists seeking Indian jewelry, as Tony drove past them in his 1956, turquoise and white, convertible.

It was the love of his life and he called it Vicky. He spent the necessary money to restore and maintain her to 1956 standards. Tony loved to drive the 20-mile, recently asphalted connecting road. The days of repeatedly cleaning fresh tar from the underside of Vicky were months behind. His condominium newly furnished in the old Western style with many paintings, rugs, Indian artifacts, arrowhead collections, and silver jewelry from the Hopi and Navajo tribes. For all his successes, he never married. He preferred to be a loner at this time.

When female co-workers offered coffee or brought documents, he would take an instant to acknowledge them, smile, and then ignore them out of a shyness and consciousness of his height. Granted, he often ignored everyone who brought coffee, but he believed a prospective wife should be shorter than he is, and there were so few women who matched. Standing at five feet 5 inches, and with his brains, a future wife of equal qualifications would be considered a statistically narrow search.

While working, he became a dedicated individual and strove to prevent any interruptions to his schedules. Consumed by his work, it became his life. With no family or other responsibilities, it earned him a position on this project. For him it is the pinnacle of his career. He would develop unknown technologies. It was a life expanding experience for him, a dream he always wanted, unfortunately it turned into a nightmare.

No conceivable way

Tony’s palms profusely sweated, and tiny beads of perspiration gleamed on his forehead. His only thoughts, how to explain his findings, and he continuously shuffled the contents of a gold folder while keeping one eye on the room’s entrance. It’s another day of hurry up and wait. He whispered loudly. To his amazement most got a chuckle out of it, but no one responded verbally. He felt certain that someone should agree, or at least say something. They would continue to await the inevitable opening of the stainless-steel doors. Every seated individual sported a military bearing, with close cut hair, and perfectly cleanshaven so that Bio/Chem masks would protect them if they entered the project areas. Their attire consisted of khaki pants with short sleeve shirts. Their insignias gleamed brightly. A dozen pairs of black shoes glistened mirror-like on their feet and gave the overall appearance of military dedication.

While most of the officers sat patiently waiting, several appeared to be dozing. In the Rainbow Crevasse, you slept when you could, or you would not perform to the Tony Standard.

Shortly after Tony’s comment, two soldiers, attired in camouflage with full body armor and weapons at the ready, opened the high security access. As they held the grey metal doors from the outside, one tall older man in full uniform with four stars on his shoulders and silver hair strode solidly into the room. His appearance gave an image of an older athlete, fit and ready to play any game. The seated officers jumped to attention, all eyes to the person across from them. The Project manager, Tony, always the last to rise from his chair and salute, turning to look directly toward the doors and reflexively dipping his head to the man who entered.

The General quickly glanced to all before he spoke. His eyes conveyed a look of inspection, and he approved of the personnel standing in front of him. Gentlemen, Doctor, what is the status of this project? The General raised one thin whitened eyebrow and tipped his head as he removed his hat. I have the copy of the Sierra Vista readout. Have you seen this information, or was it only forwarded by your office with your name on it? Tony already felt slighted. I have personally read it. Sir. My clearance allowed me to see it, so I forwarded to you sir, however, I would like to see it again. Well, that did not sound correct. His paled face started to redden.

Here. Re-read. Maybe you can answer some of my questions. He passed the short paper to Tony’s trembling hand. Tony re-read the message.

Classified: Top Secret-SAP 7-Rainbow Crevasse

Message received 5/30/2021, 1800 Tango.

Fwd. To: General A. Mancuso Space Systems Command

From: Project Manager. Reservation Beta 327

Subject: Classified above T/S Special Access Program level 7

This is the only recorded message retrieved and deciphered: Their alpha-symbols follow the DOD Linguists’ Inventory Translations’ Catalogue. All other Sierra Vista decodes are decayed beyond coherent transcription.

Tactical – Information – Message as follows:

Commander Fleet HQ: To Orion 26, Priority high. Defense Shields failing, heavy fire.

Depart now. Orion 26, Respond.

Orion 26 To Com Fleet HQ: Processing Evacuees, Require 2 M, Possible Respond?

Orion 26 To Com Fleet HQ: Respond.

Orion 26 To Com Fleet HQ: Respond.

Orion 26 To Com Fleet HQ: Orion 26, departing.

Message added to DOD Archives. Space Systems Command 5/25/2021, 1400 Tango.

We have access to most of the vessel. Request scheduled meeting be moved forward. END

Retrieved from National Archives May 30, 2021, 1500 Tango,

Above Top Secret: Special Access Program-Level 7 – Single page only.

Nervously affirming the document’s accuracy as the General took the head seat, Tony sat back down, next to the General’s position. He worked for General Mancuso for 20 months and only met him twice. He did not feel comfortable being around him because of the hushed stories of sheer terror from members who were assigned to the general’s command.

The General, being a West Pointer, his style an old school method and ran every-thing by the book: a rumor built around him that if it were not in the book, he would write one to prove he is correct. Tony collected himself and resumed. General, we have exhausted all the usual techniques to gain entry to the inner ship’s areas, but to no avail, until now. We’ve finally found a breakthrough allowing us entry. The General, considering the previous statement, focused on a point on the ceiling cornice while allowing his thoughts to form. Tony took a breath, then continued. "As you know from the ELF radio transmission successes, the surface of the ship is directionally nano-conductive with the applied 50-megawatt source.

We did not expect the dissipation, against this directional nano-conductivity, of the energy from our Pulsed Laser for over thirty-five minutes. I mean the ship’s target surface barely heated up; it is unbelievable. It has an atomic boundary layer designed to conduct and route focused energy into countless channels. It is resistance, but it is not. Right now, we can observe, but we cannot explain. This alone would forward our current space program by a hundred years or more. I mean, look at how we broke through with submarine communication already. We’re stumbling into new discoveries and…." Tony was interrupted.

General Antonio Mancuso quickly leaned forward and spoke. That is good but, how did you get in? Please take what time you require to, ah, explain to me how the heck you gained access? The General exhibited a trace of sarcasm but conveyed a sense of understanding for the situation.

A combination of peculiar circumstances. Pure luck. One of our technicians found trouble with his laser pointer and it would not stay continuously lit. He tapped it a couple of times on the side of the ship, it blinked several times and the door opened. We determined it to be the succession of light flashes, so we checked the security system cameras, and we have the entry code and all fobs have been issued to required personnel. Tony continued as he squirmed under the gaze of the General. I believe it’s because the outer compartment walls pass light to the sensors; one for sending and one to receive. We searched and found two sensors for detection. It would appear the previous crew were issued some form of light sensors that would be activated by the transmitter’s signal, sending the coded access-signal back to the receiver, like today’s key fobs.

The General focused upon Tony. So, you’re telling me that all of our science and all of the taxpayer’s money wouldn’t let Humpty-Dumpty in? An unhappy smile formed as he continued. We have spent millions, no! A billion dollars building this base to gain this technology and it comes down to luck. I want that man given a medal and then court-martialed for trying to destroy government property. The humor, impossible to avoid and there were several uncomfortable exhalations throughout the room. So, where the Sam Hell, do we stand Doctor Tony? he drawled.

Tony Wasilewski grabbed his gold folder from the table in front of him. He opened it and gathered some vital papers to aid in his presentation. He reflected for a moment. How do I tell Him? The vehicle appears to be at least eleven to twelve-thousand years old, or possibly older. There is a lot of age variance in our samples. Tony waited before he spoke again, gauging a reaction, but none came. We thought it could be far older because of the age of the stone. The ship crashed into the plateau, causing a collapse, then because of the heat and pressure melted the stone to the outer surface. It has been sealed for many thousands of years. It is a colonists’ ship of fifteen thousand people. There are remains. Some are well preserved – mummified. They are Human, but due to heat and chemical degradation, it will take time for the DNA tests to give fuller assurance. Tony stopped for a second to consider General Mancuso’s blinking left eye and unfocused gaze at the cornice.

The technicians have some success with returning power to certain sections including what we determine is navigation. We are ascertaining where these people came from and what exact period they crashed. As far as conditions inside the craft, there is no viable oxygen. We have detected minute traces of toxic gases, but those have been contained. Tony finished and laid the pictures and contents from the folder in front of the General.

General Antonio Mancuso gritted his teeth fixedly while quietly pondering the information he received. Human. My God, what effect would that have on the world? This knowledge will be hidden away a long time; there is no conceivable way to release this! What would we tell the people, that their gods crashed here some twelve-thousand years ago? I do not think so.

Mancuso rotated his seat to face toward the black curtain. A major rose and stepped quickly to a side table, picked up the remote control, and activated it. The video screens, which displayed spectrums of light and frequencies, brightened, then dimmed as the lights in the room darkened. The blackout curtain rose into the ceiling and exposed an enormously huge, recently excavated cavern.

The Beast

Rainbow Crevasse

Startled by the quickly dimming lights, General Mancuso’s hand jumped an inch. Anyone who worked for him knew that reflex, is like screaming from the roof of a tall building.

Another junior-most major walked to a panel to raise the level of the lights, and found they automatically adjusted to provide a better view of the cavern below. He returned to his seat sheepishly and smiled, shaking his head.

The General slowly stepped to the window as if he were hesitant to observe. The cavern now darkened, but it allowed the outline of the alien craft to be visible from the viewing port. Sweeping his eyes from left to right, he exhaled and squinted to see the end of the monster, multi-aircraft-carrier sized spaceship. He focused on the lit region around an entry door. He could see technicians who resembled tiny ants, coming, and going, carrying instruments of their profession. All of them wore special protective suits to prevent contamination with the alien past.

Why are the lights so dim, I can barely see anything? Mancuso’s eyes strained to enhance the outline of the alien craft.

We have to be scanning for any external light or power sources, and it allows us to improve the appearance of our heads-up displays within the suits, Tony said.

Mancuso huffed, then went back and sat down. Go ahead and raise the cavern lights for a minute or two so I can get a better understanding of what I’m dealing with! The General stood again and walked back over to the window.

Tony caught the "I’m dealing with statement, and it angered him. He felt his face redden again as his crimped ego spoke within. No General, I am dealing with it." But that was Tony’s ego. It is me first, myself second and I for defense.

As the cavern lights brightened, the General raised his head and acclimated his eyes upon the cave’s ceiling before surveying the immense ship, eyes bulging for a full minute as he tried to assimilate the entire craft into his field of vision. At ½-mile long by about ¼-mile wide and standing about 50 stories high, its shape like a spearhead with a thick centerline. Along the outer starboard edges, there were partial bends, warps, scrapes, and discolored green and grayish purple marks. The nose of the spearhead craft displayed no visible damage.

Far above the ship were clamshell doors going into the distance, camouflaged to hide their purpose, and built-in sections into the cavern’s ceiling, to ensure escape to the surface when the project was completed.

The time seemed to pass slowly without anyone speaking as the General’s brow began to sweat. How long before it is considered safe for us to enter without protective suits? His voice cracked when he quizzed Tony, and the question directed toward all of them. Tony responded quickly.

It will be safe within a week, after all of the air has been replaced and the medical team has given us the OK to proceed. However, there is one stipulation: that we notify the resident medical members on duty of openings of new compartments. We don’t want any surprises. Tony turned back to look at the alien craft again, readjusting his eyes to the difference of light.

Mancuso glanced at Tony for a second, then he returned his gaze to the beast. He had never seen anything bigger. He saw the TR-3B series, a 600-foot-wide triangle, but an actual starship just unbelievable. His mind raced at the prospects. Not a bad job Colonel Wasilewski, the general commended him. This is the first time Mancuso complimented him. Several of the other officers glanced at each other, but only for a split second, after the General called him Colonel. Always dressed casually under a lab coat, Dr. Wasilewski’s rank, and standing were not known to most of the officers. Tony held a reserve rank of Lieutenant Colonel with the U.S. Space Systems Command. He got things accomplished, but he never pushed hard with any active-duty personnel. He felt embarrassed that his appointment by office of the President and the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Most did not know that he is in the active reserves, nor would they have cared, he is still their boss.

The starship, placed on old navy shipyard stone blocks, normally used to hold large aircraft carriers in dry-dock. They were installed when excavated, and later modified with a metallic wrapping for a series of experiments. This tedious job required thousands of these blocks to be placed correctly, and at consistent intervals, not only for structural support, but also for calculated ground contact. The ship showing numerous small ripples adjacent to burns that resembled heavy weapons fire. There were large discolorations on the top gray surface skin consisting of green and purple black; however, the ship appeared to be in excellent shape.

What could have caused those discolorations? Mancuso queried while half glancing at Tony and studying the mother ship.

We haven’t determined the cause yet, but in my line of thinking they experienced one hell of a fight before or during landing here. Why did I say that?

The General immediately thought of consequences. What makes you say that?

Well, Tony paused for a moment, then continued. "Based on the direction the craft would normally travel in flight, and that the damage came from behind and above them.

It’s akin to leaving a planet and being fired on from orbit. He did not want credit for the notion, so he created a strawman for that concept. One of the astrophysicists suggested that several days ago."

What you are saying is that they might have an enemy that may be looking for them, or us, should I say? How long have you known this? Mancuso looked instantly from the battle-tested starship back to Tony.

We became certain yesterday upon deciphering the Sierra Vista message, so far, retrievable from their data banks. He shrank under the General’s glowering countenance. You were unavailable, but I sent an encrypted message to you and N.S.A. Deputy Director Robert Baccier.

Mancuso pondered the information for a full minute, then raised his head and again stared at the cornice. The seconds of silence were broken as the doors flew open and a black Lt. Colonel the size of a football lineman stepped into the room and set a chained briefcase before General Mancuso. Quickly unlocking the handcuffs from his wrist, he turned to speak to the seated figure. General, you have a coded message from Space Systems Command. That might be your message reaching me now, but Colonel, one day is not normal. Usually, it takes seven minutes. However, things happen. How long ago did someone conduct an electronic sweep? The General rushed his words. An Air Force major, seated to the right of Tony, stated, I did it a few minutes prior to the message being sent.

The General nodded and removed a key attached inside his top left shirt pocket to unlock the briefcase and access a video display. After entering a nine-digit code he waited a few seconds, then an encrypted message became visible. Mancuso’s face blanched white as he scrolled down to read the entire message. His thoughts raced. What have we done? God help us! What if these beings are searching for this ship, just when we had a chance to defend the planet and travel the stars? God must hate us!

Mancuso raised his voice. Gentlemen, we have one hell of a problem. Shut everything down! We may have put humanity in harm’s way. I think…ah, that turning on the navigational systems has given away the ship’s location. Now, something big is coming in fast, and at the present speed, will put it in our orbit within the hour. They detected it last year, stationed in Jupiter’s orbit, within the main rings on its far side’s edge. We monitored its position and have done nothing. Now it is heading toward us, traveling at many times the speed of light. Doctor Colonel, how can that be? This message says our satellites have clocked it over 400,000 miles per second, and now White Sands is online.

Tony calculated for a moment and then responded. That measurement may be correct. I mean the multiple speeds of light. We found a binary star in NG 6000 something, I believe that is its designation, spewing matter toward its binary brother at nine times lightspeed last year. In this case, we have a measurement over two times light speed. Our incoming ship definitely has faster-than-light capability. He then added, With their technology, they probably have us detected and quite near to a pinpoint location – wait Tony swallowed hard. White Sands is online? Tony asked. That newly re-commissioned upgraded Star Wars Pulsed Laser is activated. His nervousness sank into fear.

The General restated his first order as no one moved. I want all power removed from the ship and base systems. Everything shut down on the base now and I mean everything, including the computer systems. Seal the base up airtight, shut everything down now. His voice strained and cracked as he conveyed instructions. He slumped back exhausted in his stuffed chair, then closed his eyes. The conference room emptied in seconds.

Trapped

The personnel went into lockdown with all security doors, air vents, and trunk tunnels. Those passages and ducts that connected different areas of the underground base were secured. By the times that they conducted this as a drill, the base should be sealed in less than two minutes, they completed the shutdown under two minutes. Now the wait began, to see if they could be detected from planetary distances in space. They would not know whether hostile or not, until the approaching force landed or made contact. This technology assumed to be far beyond anything the United States held, given the multi-light speed.

Tony returned to the base’s command/control room. He sensed everyone’s eyes on him, but knew it was not so. Several personnel dozed, awaiting the next action, and could not have cared even if it were his fault; others listened and fidgeted before blank video screens. The brightly lit, flashing red emergency lights provided an eerie glow for all the personnel sealed within. He did not know if he would survive this project. He started here and he would retire or die here. The Star Wars Laser is on…He wanted to be at home in Rachel Springs where he could hide from the world, however, trapped like the others. God, I wish I were riding in Vicky, wind blowing through what is left of my hair. Check for snacks. His last thought kept coming back, and he realized he had not eaten anything for a day.

General Antonio Mancuso died of a massive stroke two hours later, after all satellite communications went blank. They interred the General in the frozen meat locker; seated on a large cabinet with his legs crossed and his hat in his hands out of respect. The death of General Mancuso put Tony, the project’s manager, back in charge, renewed with a feeling of confidence, but he knew it to be mostly ego. He went to his quarters for some sleep and rustled about dreamless – still hungry, but too tired to care about eating.

The next dayshift, Tony sent a three-man team out to investigate conditions surrounding the base. Through the previous night, they received no live contacts with the outside world, and except for light static, all incoming broadcast signals dropped to zero, as most of the stations and pre-recorded broadcasts went off the air.

Tony sat in deep thought. His mind ran through what he knew, while his hand slid over to his half-empty cup of coffee. Sipping it for a split second, he shook his head and poured the cold contents into the trash can sitting to the left of his feet. "We are losing contact. What happened out there? What is going on, are we at war? Have we been defeated? We have Satellite Communications now, but nobody is talking. The radio and TV stations are disappearing off the air. Speaking of air, we better get some in here soon. However, if it is not safe, I will still be forced to start up the scrubbers! That might give our position away! What do I do?"

Permission to Subjugate

Jupiter’s Main Ring

The trace of muon-waves emanating from the third planet have been lost; weakening, then vanishing. The detecting ship began its exit from the main ring-orbit of Jupiter. A thirteen-thousand-year hunt finally found a scent after chasing hundreds of vessels throughout countless mega-parsecs of several galaxies. This galactic warship, named Kosh-Po-koko-ilko, meaning Eternal Vigilance and its one purpose: to ascertain the location of the last rebel starship named Orion 26 that allowed enemies of the empire to escape from the