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A Single Motion by Arthur Wellesly
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A Single Motion: part 1
Date: 26 March 2003, 4:47 PM
A Single Motion: Part 1
Ellsworth Air Force Base
South Dakota, USA
0515 Hours, July 05, 2004
It was a boiling summer morning in the communications and surveillance building in Ellsworth Air Force Base in South Dakota. A recent aerial practice and weapons testing had everyone present on high alert. No one was idle in the large room, whose floor was covered with desks and computers and busy people. Everyone had a job to do.
"Yea, you're clear for landing, Dick," Jason Braid said into a microphone, simultaneously observing the monitor in front of him.
"Roger that," came the response, and a few moments later the F-117 stealth fighter touched down on the airstrip. Then, a couple seconds after pilot Dick Hantersmon landed, he exclaimed, "What the hell is that?"
"What's what, Dick?" Jason asked.
There was a pause, and then, "It's an incredibly bright light flying overhead. I... I can't see it anymore."
There were similar reports and reactions all across the room. Over at the radar station, people were some very weird signals that corresponded with the strange sightings. "Look there," General Wallace pointed out on the monitor, indicating a red dot over Nebraska.
"Christ, its moving Goddamn fast!" Major Kennedy said. "It's over Colorado now!"
"Now it's over New Mexico," Wallace said, amazed. Everyone was still as the red dot almost crossed into Mexico, but suddenly it didn't even register on the radar anymore. "Look, it stopped... somewhere near Holloman Air Force Base."
"Brian, contact General Reeves at Holloman," Kennedy said to the head of the communications department. "Ask him if he's seen anything unusual around there."
"Yes, sir," Brian acknowledged.
As he tried to get a hold of the general, Kennedy asked Wallace, "What the hell do you think that was, sir?"
"An asteroid?" Wallace suggested.
"No, sir," Kennedy said respectfully. "This radar is rigged to detect planes. That means whatever that was, it was somewhere between the surface and the Mesosphere. An asteroid would have gone at a different trajectory and it probably would have been faster. That seemed to have some sort of intelligent "landing" if you can call it that."
"So it was an aircraft?" Wallace asked in disbelief.
Before Kennedy could answer, Brian called, "I've gotten a hold of the general, sir. He reports a bright light in the air followed by a large explosion and an earth shaking impact."
Wallace raised an eyebrow at this report. "Jesus," he said under his breath. "Ask the general is he is properly equipped and has enough personnel to perform a military lock-down of the area."
Brian asked the question into the microphone, and listened for an answer. "Roger that."
"Okay, tell him we need him to do exactly that," Wallace said. "He has to secure the crash site. Tell him we have reason to believe that this was actually some sort of ship."
17 miles southwest of Holloman Air Force Base
New Mexico, USA
0605 Hours, July 5, 2004
"ETA crash site one minutes!" Johnson called from the pilot's seat.
Four UH-60 Black Hawk helicopters, accompanied by three AH-64 Apaches, were outbound from Holloman Air Force Base on orders of General Reeves. The Black Hawks carried forty heavily armed Rangers. All they knew what that they were supposed to secure a suspicious crash landing and prevent any locals from approaching the area. They had all saw the light and explosion, or, failing that, they had all felt the massive impact.
"Christ, there it is!" Private Leroy called, looking out the side door, his feet dangling in the air. "Looks like it is pretty intact." Up ahead was a large impact crater and a long drench dug into the earth by whatever had struck there. At the end of the trench was a very large object.
"What the fuck...?" Sergeant Roher's voice trailed off, his mind boggled by the sight before him. The "ship" was at least 250 feet long. It was triangular, almost resembling an oversized B-2 Stealth Bomber, were it not for its purple metallic sheen.
"Have any of you ever seen anything like that?" Johnson called from the cockpit, mesmerized by the sight.
"Negative that, Johnny," Roher said.
The four Black Hawks stopped at four different positions a couple hundred feet from the large craft. They descended, and off each came ten soldiers, dressed in desert camouflage uniforms. "Follow me, men," Roher said to his squad as they cautiously approached the downed ship. They jogged towards the crash and quickly covered the space between them and it. The side of the ship was almost fifteen feet tall, towering high above all of the soldiers. However it was not this that made the soldiers gasp as they came with mere feet of the odd ship, but that its hull was not at all damaged.
Another squad approached Roher. "Big fucking thing, huh?" he said.
"Yea," Roher agreed. "But may I ask how it isn't even damaged? From the looks of this trench and the impact crater, and, Christ, the impact we all felt, shouldn't it be totaled?"
The man cocked his head. "Yea, you'd think." He began walking closer to the hull of the ship, hand outstretched.
"What do you think you're doing?" Roher asked the soldier. "The general said this thing could have come from the upper atmosphere! The hull is probably sizzling." Roher grabbed something out of his pouch and he threw the device onto the "sizzling" metal. It immediately stuck to it. After this had been done, Roher looked at a small computer in his hand, and he gasped. "Jesus! According to this thermometer, that hull is 10."
The impetuous soldier scoffed. "Come on! It must be 80 out here at least." He leaned forward and laid his hand flat out on the hull. He gasped and pulled his hand away and shook it. "That is fucking cold."
Roher raised an eyebrow and a smile crossed his lips. "No kidding," he said, angry, sarcastic, and happy at the same time.
The helicopters were still circling noisily overhead. "Armored convoy is coming from Fort Bliss," Johnson said over the COM channel to Roher.
"Roger that," the sergeant said. "I wonder why they are directing so much attention here." He turned his attention back to the soldier who was still opening and closing his pained hand. "What's your name, anyway, sergeant?" he asked.
"Sergeant Rowe, sir," he said, saluting.
Roher nodded in approval at this much too late acknowledgment of his authority. His thoughts of this were not allowed to linger, however; at this moment, there was an unsettling noise on the top of the ship. "What the fuck..."
"Christ, the top of the ship is opening, guys," Johnson announced over the Com channel. "There's some sort of... something coming out! Fuck, you guys got some sort of Goddamned alien on your hands!"
Roher wasn't exactly sure what to make of this. Had it not been for the alien appearing just over the edge of the top of the ship, he probably would have believed this to be some sort of joke.
The alien was a ludicrous sight. It stood maybe four feet tall and had a tiny head that was disproportionate to the size of its body. It wore a breathing apparatus which took up much of its face, and it carried a tank on its back as well, presumably for the same purpose as the mask. The tank was almost the size of the rest of its entire body, and its small form was bent over under the immense weight. Its elephant-like feet and clawed hands were both reptilian with blue scales that shone brightly in the rising sun. Across its torso and the top of its head, it wore some sort of armor that was orange in color and almost too reflective to look directly at.
What was most disconcerting to Roher, though, was the irregular shaped weapon it gripped tightly in its awkward hand.
For a moment, both alien and human stood there, stunned to see each other. The tiny alien was the first to react to this unlikely situation. It squealed in some high pitched, unknown language and then raised its weapon.
Despite their obvious shock, the Rangers were not going to stand there and be slaughtered by this ludicrous foe on their own soil. They all raised their weapons as well, training their scopes on the alien's center mass. "Drop it!" Roher called uselessly, for surely this extraterrestrial had no comprehension of the English language.
"Put it the fuck down!" another man called from behind Roher. The situation was escalating dangerously. All the yelling and screaming, combined with forty guns trained on it and seven helicopters overhead, was only making the neurotic thing more nervous. It had its shaking finger on the odd shaped trigger and it would have fired if not for the intervention of some other creature that came on the roof to join this alien. It placed a restraining hand on its shoulder and whispered something in its ear. It yelped and but was immediately quiet thereafter, and it lowered its weapon.
This other alien was quite different from its comrade. It stood over twice as tall as it, and its muscular body was also quite a contrast to the other stout extraterrestrial. It was covered from head to toe in a thick blue armor that looked to the Rangers to be impenetrable. The only part of its enormous form that seemed to be exposed from its protective shell was its face.
The alien walked to the edge of the ship, taking no heed of the many guns pointed directly at him. With a swift and sudden movement he leapt of the edge and landed gracefully and painlessly on the hard rock about fifteen feet below. This startled many of the already shocked soldiers. It shook them even more by surprise when the tall alien slowly walked towards them.
No one hesitated in their actions, and the Rangers' weapons snapped up in unison. "Stop right there!" Roher shouted at the alien, as he looked through his scope.
Either the alien spoke English or the Rangers' obvious intent was conviction enough, for the extraterrestrial halted immediately in its tracks, backed up a step and held its hands up as if protecting its body. It would be a single motion that would change the course of human history forever.
Sergeant-Major Thomas Garrentine was sitting on the deck on one of the Black Hawk Helicopters, his sniper rifle scope constantly trained on the unprotected face of this new alien. Garrentine had always been the "believer" in his squad, and this meeting with another race spooked him more than he would have guessed. He was sure the aliens' intentions were hostile, and that made his finger all too ready to pull the trigger. Then, as he saw the alien hold its hands up, the rising sun made a brilliant flash off of its highly reflective armor.
"Christ, that thing fired at them!" Garrentine cried, easily willing to believe this as the case.
"No, it didn't!" pilot Ben Webster called back to him. "Hold your fire!"
But it was too late - Garrentine pulled the trigger after carefully aiming at the center of the alien's forehead.
Roher was surprised when the alien gave them all a confused look as if to suggest it couldn't understand their hostilities towards it. Its apparent apprehension also shocked him. What startled him the most, however, was when a spray of purple-blue blood spattered across his face and the alien's face caved in on itself.
At first, Roher thought it had thrown something at him, but a not too distant report and the alien's face made the situation all too clear - and not just to him. As the massive alien toppled over face first, the smaller alien above slowly began to comprehend what had just transpired. It then once again raised its weapon and pointed it as the Rangers.
"No, wait, don't..." Roher screamed, but it was too late - a blue-green flame leapt out from the tiny muzzle and sprayed all the soldiers with a withering, superheated flame. Roher was the first to be incinerated by the plasma.
As the Rangers were being massacred, an apache helicopter overhead made a strafing run over the top of the ship and the small alien seemed to disintegrate under the massive firepower of the 30mm chain gun. All four Black Hawks flew directly over the ship and touched down on its surface to deploy the men inside who had been acting as snipers providing cover for the Rangers - all except Thomas Garrentine, who was being held on a Black Hawk for immediate punishment.
Meanwhile, Ben Webster opened a COM link with Holloman Air Force Base. "General Reeves, I suggest you respectfully ask the armored convoy from Fort Bliss to get their asses here ASAP. We have made first contact - and it wasn't pleasant."
A Single Motion: part 2
Date: 30 March 2003, 12:45 PM
A Single Motion: Part 2
17 miles southwest of Holloman Air Force Base
New Mexico, USA
0705 Hours, July 5, 2004
"Armored convoy is in sight, Johnny," Corporal Stevenson said, taking his radio out of its holster.
"Confirmed," came the answer a moment later.
In the hour that had passed since the fatal first contact, nothing further had taken place at the crash site. All the Rangers on the roof of the ship had their weapons trained at the hatch where the aliens had been seen coming out, but it didn't move; everything was still. This unnerved all of the men present, but at the same time it made them grateful. They had all seen what the alien weapons were capable of.
Eleven of the Rangers present at first contact were vaporized, and two were so badly burned they were hardly recognizable - the medics said they stood little chance of lasting the day. All that had happened because of one alien with one small gun. It was exactly why the task ahead was deemed very undesirable by all of the soldiers here.
It was also why the voice Stevenson had used to announce the convoy had been shaky at best. It had been told to them that it contained a large demolitions team to crack through the ship's armor plating so that they could investigate the ship inside. Of course, it wasn't known if there were any more aliens inside. If there were, it was bad news for the Rangers.
The convoy stopped and halted near the ship. The convoy consisted of twelve hum-vees and five heavily armored APCs. Out of three hum-vees came twenty-two men, none of them in proper uniform. Stevenson recognized the men as the demolitions team. The team had requested an extra large team with a lot of C-4 and other explosives. The hull had lasted an impact with the earth going many times the speed of sound. It would likely take weeks to get through the hull.
After exiting the vehicle, the men hopped aboard three different Black Hawks and they sat waiting inside. Moments later bag after bag of supplies was also brought to the helicopters by military personnel who had also exited their vehicles. After the last of these bags were aboard, all three Black Hawks took to the sky and landed a short time later of the roof of the ship. The demolitions team jumped off and they started towards the team of Rangers standing with guns ready at the hatch. One man approached Stevenson, who, for whatever reason, seemed to presume he was in command. "Spread your team out from the hatch... corporal," he said, examining the stripes on his sleeve. "We'll take it from here."
"Acknowledged," he responded, not quite knowing how to address this man, who had no insignia. He motioned for the other Rangers to back up.
After about five minutes of rigging explosives around this hatch, the men stood back and the man who had talked to Stevenson earlier held a small device in his hand. Suddenly he called, "Fire in the hole!" and with that, sixty-five kilos of C-4 plastic explosives detonated and the concussive blast sent a plume of smoke and a wave of metal shards flying in every which direction. No one was hurt, but some of the Rangers were half-deafened by the explosion.
When the white smoke cleared, it revealed a smooth plate of metal with a small dent in it where the outlines of a hatch were barely visible.
The demolitions man sighed and scratched the back of his head in an irritated manner. "Well..." he said, his voice trailing off. "I guess we'll be here a while."
17 miles southwest of Holloman Air Force Base
New Mexico, USA
0930 hours, July 9, 2004
"US officials still not commenting on the odd, luminous object that streaked across the skies of the central states last week," the news reporter said, "and they scoff at the idea that it was, indeed, an alien craft. They also said they, too, felt the tremendous impact many residents of New Mexico and Texas experienced, however they said their investigation into it was "inconclusive". When asked about the heavy military presence there, they responded by saying it is part of their investigation. As for their reasoning behind shutting down the air space, they say it is because of an ongoing military training exercise."
Stevenson turned the TV in the Black Hawk off and wearily rubbed his tired eyes. All this CNN was giving him a headache. He didn't like to think he was part of some huge conspiracy, even though he knew it was far beyond that. He had always been told as a child about all the government conspiracies that were surely going on, and he had always scoffed at them. Now he was not so sure.
As soon as he turned around, he was faced with yet another blinding explosion. He raised a hand to shield his eyes, but it was too late - already he was seeing red and green spots. He cursed. For the past week, it had been a constant barrage of explosives on the hatch. Tons of C-4 had been used, anti tank Hellfire missiles had been fired from Apache helicopters, and even a laser-guided bunker-buster bomb had been dropped by a stealth F-117, and the results, though slow, had been promising. There was a deep crater of twisted metal that went down nearly a meter into the hull. Stevenson had no doubt they would be going in soon.
Indeed, a moment later his radio fizzled and crackled with static and then a voice became audible. Stevenson recognized it immediately as Captain Macdonald's voice. "Those demo guys seem to think they're almost there. Get to Black Hawk 14 and prepare yourself. Looks like we're going in."
The corporal's heart seemed to turn to ice. He had never been in actual combat before, and engaging an extraterrestrial enemy was an even more daunting task. Nevertheless, he had his orders, and his training. He would just have to do his best... and survive.
"Roger that, captain, I'm on my way." He had no need to get his gear together. The idleness in the camp had unsettled him, and he was constantly cleaning his weapons and checking his ammo. He was as prepared as he ever would be.
He ran towards a Black Hawk on the ground with the large numbers "14" painted in white near the tail. He was the first aboard. He used the time to steady his shaking hand and calm his nerves. He would almost be glad to be fighting other human forces. A bullet to the head was more preferable than being burned alive.
Soon the helicopter was filled and they were suddenly once again on top of the alien craft. His squad walked over to the awaiting men of the demolitions team. "Good morning, Eric," he said to the lead man.
Eric acknowledged his greeting with a nod but said nothing in response. "All right, men, we've determined that we are almost through the hull. We have very little to go through. To penetrate the last bit of hull we will use the alien weapon." He produced the claw-like device. "Don't worry, it's auto-rechargeable via solar energy." He smiled appreciatively. "Very efficient."
Eric directed the weapon towards the crater and pulled the trigger. The bluish flame shot out again, engulfing the base of the hole, making the solid metal bubble and sizzle. After about six seconds of use the weapon seemed to shut down, evidently out of power. However the damage had been done. After several moments the red hot metal disintegrated and dripped onto the floor beneath, revealing a jagged hole that would allow a soldier and all his gear to jump comfortable in.
Eric lay down on the metal and brought out a fiber-optics camera and he snaked it about, observing the small computer he held to see if the aliens had anyone waiting immediately down below. He glanced at the palm pilot briefly, and then handed the device to a man next to him. "All clear," he said. "And remember, we started the hostilities. If at all possible, try and keep things peaceful." He took a sweeping look at all the Rangers. "Who wants to go in first?"
Stevenson almost, mustered the strength the raise his hand, but he could not. His comrade, Paul Miller, was the first to volunteer. "I'll go. I'll do it."
Eric nodded and gestured openly to the hole, inviting him to go in. Miller took a deep breath and then hopped in. Stevenson glanced down. Miller had lost his footing on the long drop, but he quickly stood back up and looked around. "It's clear!" he called up.
In several more minutes, ten Rangers were in the halls of the strange ship. Stevenson was the last of the ten. When he entered he couldn't repress an oath. "Christ!" he breathed. The walls were a smooth purple metal that had odd bumps and crevices in impractical places, and holographic images plastered all along it made it look like a living, pulsing thing.
Five Rangers went down either way of the hall, one man with a rocket launcher in each group. Stevenson's group made it to the end of their section of hall. Around the corner there was another long hall, but in this hall, on the right side, there were large, wide doors with odd, rounded shapes on them, apparently a form of writing explaining what each door led to. Out of one of these came another one of the massive, blue armored aliens, except this one held a large, purple-pink weapon, and when it saw them it screamed something in its language and opened its maw to an impossible width.
Stevenson remembered what Eric had said. "No, wait, we don't want hostilities!" he cried, hoping beyond hope that this thing did indeed understand their dialect.
Whether it did or not was irrelevant, for the alien opened fire with this new weapon. Stevenson ducked behind the wall of the first hall but two of the soldiers in front of him were not so lucky. They were instantly shredded in a rapid-fire barrage of bullets, far faster than anything Stevenson had ever seen before in his life. His fellow Ranger, Michael Carson, who had the rocket launcher in his group, quickly whipped around the corner and immediately pulled the trigger. A dull thud resounded from the weapon followed by the screaming of the RPG and then the explosion afterwards.
Without thinking that the alien had dodged the projectile, the other soldier in the group, Matthew Clarke, also turned around the corner and ran down the hall. When no shot was heard thereafter, Stevenson and Carson followed him. They saw Clarke standing over the fallen extraterrestrial. It writhed painfully on the ground, its body armor perfectly in tact but its face was now a blackened, charred mass. It patted the floor pathetically around him, searching for its weapon. Clarke wasn't about to let that happen. He fired a couple rounds directly into its face. The alien writhed once again, but was soon still without a sound. "Bloody thing didn't want to give up, did it?" Clarke asked no one in particular.
Stevenson picked up his radio from his belt. "We have engaged another alien. Yeats and Fancey are KIA. Hostilities confirmed." At that moment he heard gunshots and screams from somewhere else on the ship. He just had to hope the Rangers could handle it. Reinforcements would be on the way now anyway.
Stevenson's group continued down the hall, but it led to a dead end, so they backtracked and decided to go in the door they had seen the alien come out of. They entered hesitantly, guns at the ready, but there was nothing to oppose their entry - just yet another hallway with more doors along it. This one was much shorter, however. They proceeded to walk down it. Clarke put his back to the wall and peered around the corner. He quickly snapped his head back.
"There's something in the next room," he mouthed. They nodded. Clarke held up three fingers, then two, then one...
The three of them simultaneously turned around the corner, eyes at their scopes, fingers on the trigger. What they saw was a large, circular room, with a platform suspended seemingly by nothing a couple feet off the ground. On the platform was a wall of odd-looking computer-like devices and holograms. In front of one of these computers was yet another type of alien, one that looked quite different from the others. This one seemed man sized, and it wore a long, flowing robe of sorts, red, outlined with purple. Its face was an almost sickly grey with a long, pointed chin and large eyes that looked too big for its thin face. What was most peculiar about it, however, was it massive headdress. It seemed almost as big as the rest of its body, with a purple, metal skeleton and golden slabs in between them. It also had two, long metal prongs off the side of it, making it look far more foreboding than it actually was.
This new alien was speaking in a constant, gibberish tongue to a computer, and only gradually did it realise that the three Rangers were standing there. It reared its whole body in surprise and then began searching in the folds of its robes for something. Stevenson could guess what that something was. "No, don't do it," he screamed uselessly.
The alien continued to search in its robes and then it pulled out a weapon similar to the one the short alien had used on the roof when they made first contact. "Fuck it," Clarke said beside him, and he opened fire on it, peppering the extraterrestrial with a full, automatic spray, carefully aimed at its center mass to inflict the maximum damage. The bullets tore through the target, punching holes in the computers behind it and covering the back wall in torrent of blood and bits of alien. The thing dropped to the floor in a pool of its own blood, dead before it hit the ground.
There were footsteps behind the three men. They all turned around, scared of what it might be, but it was only the other team of Rangers, entering the room from the second door. They all looked immediately at the dead alien on the platform above, and then back at the group, noticing suddenly there were only three of them. "I guess you guys didn't fare much better than us."
Clarke shook his head. "No. I guess there'll be quite a conspiracy here yet, huh?"
A Single Motion: part 3
Date: 2 April 2003, 4:40 PM
Fort Stewart, Analysis and Intelligence Bunker
Georgia, USA
2330 Hours, July 11, 2004
"I thank you all for coming here today," General Forrester began. "As many of you gathered here today now know, we have recently made first contact with an extraterrestrial species." One man near the back snickered for a second, but when he realized he was alone in his actions, he quickly stopped. "This first contact was a highly unpleasant one. Twenty-one Rangers were killed in the action that took place there, and seven of these aliens were also killed. None were taken alive."
Following the incident in New Mexico, several meetings between high-ranking military and political officials had been undertaken to determine the course of action they would have to follow. This meeting, however, was quite different. Its purpose was to analyze this foreign technology and the aliens themselves.
"I would like to invite Dr. James MacCully to take my place and enlighten us in the 'unknown'. Doctor?" he asked, brandishing a hand to encourage him to come up.
An old man rose from his seat at the table in the dimly lit room and waddled slowly to the front of the room, his shadow seeming even frailer than he in the light of the projector he stood before. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began with an almost imperceptible German accent. "Let me begin by saying this will not be a complete analysis because we have only scratched the surface of this new technology. The purpose of this meeting is to give you all a small understanding of what we are up against if hostilities continue.
"I will start with this weapon." He pointed to the image projected onto the white screen behind him. "It is a long, thin weapon, but it is far more powerful than it looks. It fires superheated metal projectiles at a rate of 1,300 rounds per minute. You may think it is impossible to hold that many bullets in a weapon of this size but let me explain. These projectiles require no gunpowder. Instead two fusion cell packs act as the propellant so all that is needed is the bullet head, which is quite small and quite deadly. The bullets go about 5 times as fast as our standard shots, and it is this friction alone which heats them." He clicked a button on the device he held and the slide changed. Some of the more squeamish men and women at the table looked away, those most stared with a horrid fascination. "These two Rangers were killed by this weapon. They were both basically shredded by the firepower of this weapon. The projectiles also explode while in the body, causing even more damage.
He changed the slide to show another device. "This weapon was also found. We haven't the slightest clue as to how it works, all we know is that it projects a wave of superheated plasma not unlike our own flame thrower. It is solar rechargeable and can only be used for six seconds at a time before the battery wears out." He changed the slide, and when he did, a woman in the corner almost hurled. "This man survived the attack by this weapon. He left arm burned away along with most of the left side of his body. His eyes melted away and his left cheek and teeth are also now gone. He remains in critical condition.
"We also recovered this from one of the rooms in the ship," he said, clicking the device in his hand. "It seems to be a bomb of some sort. Judging by the capabilities of the aliens thus far and its size, we have deduced it would have the destructive capability many times that of even the most potent nuclear warhead.
"Now on to the ship itself," he said, simultaneously changing the slides. "It measures 248.93 feet and at its widest point 121.37 feet. The back two thirds of the craft is completely occupied by the engine of the ship, which, I might add, is in terrible shape. Upon investigation we determined that it was totaled in whatever accident brought it to earth in the first place. It was fused into almost one piece of metal. That ship isn't ever going anywhere. And we will never be able to replicate its technology, so don't expect to be flying around in space anytime soon.
"What is of particular interest is the metal plating that covers it," he continued, changing the slide to show a close up shot of the purple metal. "After trying for four days to get into the ship, it took 5.1 tons of C-4, 9 Hellfire antitank missiles, 1 bunker buster bomb, and a sustained 6 second burst from the plasma weapon I showed you earlier. As for what it is made up of, we cannot say. There are three possibilities: it could be that it is an alloy as of yet undiscovered on earth. It could be that it was put together in a way that we cannot discern a single element, or it could be that it is a substance completely alien to us in every aspect. In any case, it is a metal compound with a strength unparalleled in all of human history.
"Last but not least, the aliens themselves." He changed the slide. "This alien is the smallest among them, about three and a half feet tall. We have not been able to do an autopsy on them yet, but..."
A man came bursting through the door at the end of the room, a laptop computer shoved snuggly between his shoulder and heaving chest. "Sorry to interrupt you, doctor, but is an emergency," the man said, revealing himself to be Major-General George Peterson.
MacCully breathed a sigh of irritation. "What is it, General?" he asked tiredly.
Peterson missed the unsubtle tone of disapproval, so great was his excitement. "The White House just sent us a video that was somehow broadcast to them on a secure channel. They recorded it and just delivered it to us via email. It's from on of the aliens."
There was a gasp from the men and women at the table. Peterson ignored it and stalked hurriedly to the projected. He lay the thin mobile computer on the table and hooked it up to the projector using a short wire. He ten clicked a few buttons, entered a program, and hit "play".
The scene that appeared on the screen was almost unbelievable. It was a large, circular room lit dimly by several white lights at obscure intervals. The image seemed to be elevated by a couple feet from around the rest of the room. In the center, however, was the most breathtaking image of all: a massive extraterrestrial with an elongated head dressed completely in plated gold armor. When it finally spoke, its multiple jaws opened and closed at impossible angles and widths.
"The ship in orbit around your planet required aid," the horrifyingly loud voice said, "but you gave them death. In itself this is unacceptable. However your murder of our most beloved prophet is a sacrilege, one that cannot be forgotten. The extinction of your species is near at hand. Never before has a foreign species committed such a violation.
"The gods, however, have deemed that now is not the time for your annihilation - not until their cudgel is found. Then you shall pay for what you have done. Your planet and all its unworthy inhabitants shall cease to exist.
"Your lives are but candle flames to the gods - and we will extinguish them."
A silence followed the end of the transmission. "God help us," Jennifer Summers said under her breath.
"It would seem He is against us, according to them," MacCully said caustically.
"That thing said it would kill us all..." she began.
"I have no doubt they could... and judging by the alien's temperament I think that they would."
Nobody spoke for a moment, and then Peterson said, "Well, when? It was pretty vague when it was sating exactly when they were going to 'annihilate' us."
MacCully shook his head sadly, he face buried in his wasted hands. "I can't say either. It would seem they will act whenever they find the 'gods' cudgel' whatever the hell that is."
This began a heated discussion as to what the "gods' cudgel" was. MacCully shook his head in disgust, preferring not to join in on an argument that was based on pure speculation. He turned his head away from them and faced the screen, which was now blank, for the transmission had ended. But suddenly MacCully picked something up in the blackness; tiny, gray figures running up and down the page like 1's and 0's in code. The scientist waved an irritated hand. "Shh!" he yelled angrily. "Shut up!" When everybody was finished their bickering, he gestured to the screen. "Look, some sort of... writing."
MacCully stood up and disconnected the laptop from the projector. He sat down again and began typing furiously on the keyboard. He explained what he was doing as he did it. "You see, when transmissions such as this are communicated without a cable connection, a series of information patterns runs in the background to make this possible. If we can see this, we may have a unique understanding of their language or numbers and, God willing, we will be able to decipher their language and be able to read some of the information on their computers.
"Aha! Here we are. Look at this! Millions of these symbols, completely uncoded."
Summers stood up from her chair and walked over to the doctor, putting a hand on his shoulder and then lowering her eyes to his level. "It almost looks like Chinese calligraphy," she said, examining the screen.
MacCully nodded his consent. "Yes, it does. I'll have to copy paste all this information." He looked at General Forrester. "General, contact the White House and tell them I'm going to be sending them some information soon. Meanwhile get whoever you can to start trying to interpret this language." He looked back at the laptop, intently watching the overcomplicated letters streaming up the screen. "This transmission might have just given humanity a fighting chance."
A Single Motion: part 4
Date: 6 April 2003, 11:13 PM
A Single Motion: Part 4
Reach, UNSC Military Complex
ONI Secure Bunker
2000 Hours, February 21, 2524
Captain Michael Stanforth walked away from a very promising meeting in the ONI intelligence room that examined an unusual amount of hostile activity on Sorento III. Of course, for Stanforth, his true goal did not lie in discussing such matters but lay instead in subtly asking for a promotion. The Joint Chiefs had all understood his request and had responded kindly with promising words. He was confident he would have a promotion in both fields he worked in.
Stanforth was an agent for the Office of Naval Intelligence. He held a high rank in ONI and in the military. As he well knew, the flow of information between the navy and ONI was not exactly steady. Nobody liked ONI, or trusted them for that matter, and often information took days to reach them, and even when it did it was always fragmented and not the entirety of the story. Agents like Stanforth were placed all around the military in high-ranking positions to ensure ONI got everything they needed. There was a price, however, of getting dual salaries and large amounts of power. He played a dangerous game. ONI was supposed to analyze information, not spy on other factions within the military. If Stanforth was discovered spying on the navy, he would definitely lose his job and possibly go to jail.
But this suited him just fine. He was careful and confident he would not get caught.
As he stalked down the hall towards the elevator that would take him out of this building, he was stopped by the sound of running feet and by someone calling his name. Turning around he caught sight of Julia Wagner, a Joint Chief of ONI. She stopped just in front of him and paused to catch her breath. "May I help you, ma'am?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
She smiled at him and brushed a loose string of hair from her face. "Congratulations," she said, passing him the yellow folder she held in her hand. "The Joint Chiefs didn't need too long to consider your request. Your promotion has gone through. You are now a Joint Chief. And you should be made a Rear Admiral by the end of the year."
Stanforth was so happy and excited he almost shook, but he kept his face calm and reserved. "Should?" he asked with a smirk.
She continued to smile at him. "I can still have that revoked, you know," she said, tapping the folder that was held limply in his hand. She then turned around and said, "As much as I'd like to continue this flattery, we have more important business to attend to."
Wagner walked back down the hall and Stanforth followed her. They made several turns around the twisty hallway and eventually ended up at a large pair of double doors.
"Eye scan please," an AI sounded from the speaker overhead. Wagner leaned forward into an indent in the wall and opened her eyes wide. "Confirmed identity. Please enter, Ms. Wagner."
She nodded in satisfaction and walked forward as the doors parted for her. "Sit down," she commanded, gesturing to a simple metal chair in front of a small table. As Stanforth sat, he examined the room he was in. Just like everything in the ONI bunker, it had cold, metal walls with flickering lights lining the edge where the ceiling met the walls. Along the sides of the rooms were bulky computers, flat-screened monitors, and large filing cabinets built right into the walls.
It was to one of these cabinets that Wagner went to. She pressed a button and the drawer opened with a slight hiss. She bent down and picked a folder out from the bottom. She then proceeded to walk to the table where Stanforth was sitting at and took a seat opposite to him. She wordlessly dropped the folder in front of him.
Stanforth didn't look at its contents. "What I am supposed to see?" he asked.
Wagner ran her fingers through her hair and heaved a deep sigh. "There are some things that are known only to Joint Chiefs of ONI. Everyone who now becomes one is entitled to know a secret guarded by ONI more closely than any other we have, and believe me, that's saying something, as you will soon find out. I must tell you, however, that this is completely classified information. That means we're not here and this never happened. Understand?" Stanforth nodded. "Good. Then I'll begin," she said, snatching back the folder.
"Back in July 2004 in the old country of the United States, an unidentified light streaked across the skies of central America. It landed in the state of New Mexico. Military authorities at the time dispatched a squad of soldiers to the site. This is what they found." She flung a picture at him. It showed a large, purple ship that had plowed through the earth, for it had obviously been going at tremendous speeds when it landed.
"Is this supposed to be some sort of joke?" he asked, dropping the photograph.
Wagner looked at him oddly. "No," she said simply. "They engaged in hostilities with a pair of aliens that exited the craft," she continued, handing him two more pictures. "Those are the two aliens... dead, of course." Stanforth examined them with growing conviction. "One of the American troops started the firefight in a misunderstanding. The little one took out eleven elite soldiers instantly in a wave of plasma." She frowned. "That was five hundred years ago. We still have not been able to harness plasma in a reasonable sized weapon.
"A couple days later the soldiers entered the craft and killed several aliens, including this one." She handed him yet another photo. "This, we presume, is a Prophet."
Stanforth looked at her with a confused look on his face. "What evidence do you have of this?"
"About a week after the crash, the American government received a transmission from these aliens. Since then, the video of that transmission was somehow lost... or purposely misplaced. In any event, the message was preserved." She slid a piece of paper across the table to him.
Stanforth picked it up wearily and read it. Wagner watched as his eyebrows raised three times through the short message. "Hmm," he murmured. "They seem to be quite religious. What the hell is the god's cudgel?"
Wagner shook her head. "We have absolutely no idea. Some theories have been put forward, but all they are only speculation. Anyway, what is important is what the scientists studying the transmission at the time found out. In the background there were large amounts of script. This script included these aliens' language, numbers, and even a communication of location... some sort of complex star comparison. This is a copy of all the different letters and numbers." She handed him small palm pilot computer. "This computer contains all the letters we have obtained as well as their meanings." Stanforth looked surprised at this. Wagner laughed. "We've had five centuries to interpret this data, Captain. The AI's most recently working on it have told us they've revised its accuracy to about 90%." She shrugged. "Not bad." Stanforth snorted. Wagner looked at him severely. "You're to memorize that entire language," she told him. He groaned heavily. "Ah, the prices we pay for promotion," she said with a small chuckle.
Stanforth was still trying to comprehend all this info. He couldn't believe that humans had already met aliens so many years ago, and that he was one of the few people in the entire human race that even knew about it. Wagner saw his struggle with a look of understanding. "So, is the alien ship still there?" he asked.
She nodded. "Indeed, it was too large to move inconspicuously. The Americans built a base around it. The area at the time was dubbed by the media with a certain amount of humor 'area 52'." She looked with amusement at his blank expression. "It's a joke you'll get in the future. It's still affectionately called that."
Stanforth opened his mouth again and looked as though he was about to ask something else, but Wagner held up a hand. "No, please, no more questions. There'll be a meeting tomorrow for all the Joint Chiefs, you can ask your questions then. Oh, and Stanforth," she said as he was about to turned around. "Despite your dual promotion, you'll still be required to be our agent. In fact, it is more important now than ever that you are."
"No problem," he said enthusiastically. He surprised himself by realizing just how much he liked the job.
Wagner walked him out of the room and sealed the door with another scan of her eyes. She walked silently beside him for a while and then abruptly turned and entered a room without so much as saying a word of farewell to him. Stanforth sighed but continued walking anyway. He had a lot to study... and a lot to take in.
A Single Motion: part 5
Date: 9 April 2003, 7:18 PM
A Single Motion: Part 5 (Final Chapter)
1300 Hours, June 28, 2525 (Military Calendar)/
Cote d'Azur, Colony Capital, Sigma Octanus IV, UNSC mining/farming colony
Admiral Stanforth had needed this holiday for a long time.
Of course, Stanforth's idea of a holiday was quite different from others'. While many would have liked to bask in the famous suns of Draco III, Stanforth liked to walk around famous cities and see all the historic sites. He had already taken a tour of Halu's House, the famous bunker in which 8,000 Marines had died trying to take this very city, once called Iskorosten. What he truly wanted to see, however, was the much-talked about museum of natural history that displayed a massive skeleton of a sea mammal, one of the few alien sentient beings ever found.
But right now, Stanforth was bored. Because he was part of a tour, he had to go through the geology section before he could get to the wildlife wing of the museum. Geology bored him to no end.
"... And this is an meteor found by UNSC geologists," the tour guide was saying. "It is of particular interest because of the strange markings found on it and the high concentration of unknown radioactive materials." He paused for a moment so the people could appreciate the specimen and then he moved on. "If you'll follow me, please."
Stanforth followed the guide absent-mindedly, giving the holographic panel
showing a magnified image of the rock a scant glance. He suddenly drew a sharp intake of breath and halted in his tracks so suddenly he almost fell over forward. The Guide saw this and laughed. "Ah, we have an admirer here," he said, misunderstanding the admiral's actions. "That isn't even one of our best astro-specimens. I assume you love geology."
Stanforth nodded without really listening. "Yes... yes, I love it."
0130 Hours, July 12, 2525 (Military Calendar)/
Cote d'Azur, Colony Capital, Sigma Octanus IV, UNSC mining/farming colony
"Whatever this is, it better be important if you dragged me here personally from Reach," Wagner said to Stanforth as he greeted her at the door of the museum. "You know how I hate those cryo-chambers."
"Yes, ma'am," he said respectfully. "But you know I wouldn't bring you here if it weren't important. Believe me, you're going to love this."
They opened the doors to the massive building and approached a simple AI who guarded the second set of doors. "The museum is closed," the automated message said.
"I have a pass," she said, and she ran her ONI identification card through a slit on
the wall.
"Please enter," the AI said, and the double doors swung open.
"So, Stanforth," she said, not without a certain amount of irritation in her normally steady voice, "I wish I could say I am riveted to find out what is in this museum that is so important, but as you may have guessed, I cannot. If you are wasting my time..."
"I thought I told you that you could trust me," he said, turning left into the geology section. "It is perhaps a clue as to who these aliens are - and what they are seeking."
This seemed to shut her up. She walked alongside him, her pace quickening, clearly eager now to see what was so important. Suddenly Stanforth stopped and gestured to an ordinary looking space rock and her face dropped. "This is it," she said, the disappointment clear in her voice.
"Take a closer look," Stanforth said, tapping the holographic panel showing a magnified image of the side of the rock.
Julia bent over and closely examined the image. Suddenly she gasped and leapt back, taken totally by surprise. "Good God, it is the alien language!" she exclaimed.
Stanforth shook his head. "No, not quite," he said, almost reproachfully. He looked at her confused expression and began to elaborate. "On your lengthy journey here, I had ample time to come in here and examine this rock. I compared it to the knowledge I already have and some of the 'letters' in the computer you gave me, and they do not match. They are, of course, very similar, but, alas, they are not identical."
"So what are we doing here," she asked.
"Several reasons," he said. "Firstly, I already said they were very similar, and I hold true to that. I was able to translate some of it, I think, quite accurately. One part of the lettering says something about a 'ring of destruction' and another something about a 'massive cudgel' potentially wielding 'mass destruction'."
"So why don't we take it out of here?" she asked, excitement building. "Take it to the lab where it could be analyzed..."
"No," he said quickly. "If we take it, it would look far too conspicuous. Besides, I think we both know what it is referring to. The 'gods' cudgel'."
Wagner shook her head, regaining control of herself. "You are right. There is no need to take the risk." She paused. "You said there were several things of note about this rock."
He smiled. "Indeed there are. Do you remember those other characters from that transmission that were undecipherable for many years until it was recently realized that it was a form of navigation symbolization?"
"Yes," she said, her voice shaking, anticipating what was going to be said next.
"Well, there are those exact symbols on this rock, which I would guess gives the precise location of the 'gods' cudgel'."
Wagner trembled with excitement. "Do you understand what this means?" she asked, extremely happy. "If we get to this ring first, we'd get an upper hand on these aliens when they come for us." She stopped and bit her lip. "And I fear that day is near at hand. The further we stray into space the closer I feel to destruction."
1230 Hours, August 9, 2525 (Military Calendar)/
Alpha-1 Space Station in orbit around Chi Cheti IV, UNSC Military complex and mining colony
It had taken nearly two weeks to convince the navy to send a state-of-the-art Cruiser, the Silent Night, to a seemingly randomized area deep into unexplored space on a "reconnaissance role". It had taken another two weeks to scrounge enough money to make the mission possible and to find an appropriate captain and crew for the job. They ended up spending about a two billion dollars out of ONI's funds, but to them it was pocket change - at least in the face of all the benefits.
They had ended up with a captain named Caitlin Young. She had distinguished herself as a lieutenant commander when she saved a ship from mutiny after the captain and commander had been killed. For her heroic efforts she had jumped a spot and received a commission as captain of the frigate Blue Moon. Of course now she had been transferred to the Silent Night and she had yet to find out why.
The crew consisted of 2,000 ops personnel and 850 Marines. The Marines were specially selected from an elite, swollen battalion in the 105th Orbital Drop Shock Troops. The ops personnel were also the best of the best, coming from famous ships like the Gearing, the Montgomery, and the Crimson Sun. It struck everyone as weird, especially fleet admiral Preston Cole, but ONI was highly influential and they got what they wanted.
There were very few in the galaxy who were even aware of the existence of Chi Cheti IV. For the most part it did not permit civilians of any kind for it was a testing ground for many top secret UNSC weapon and ship designs as well as a manufacturing facility for the very same things. It just so happened that the planet housed some of the richest metal deposits in the entire human empire, which brought a steady flow of materials towards the military's efforts.
In high orbit around Chi Cheti 4 was a gargantuan space station that might give the famous one at Reach a run for its money. It had a solid cylinder one-kilometer long topped by a massive half-sphere three kilometers in diameter. It was from here that a fifth of all UNSC ships were built and serviced. And it was here that the Silent Night docked.
The impressive cruiser, 293.4 meters long, was dwarfed by the immense space structure. The long ship docked in a side-docking bay on the cylinder and captain Young boarded the station via Pelican transport to be briefed on her mission personally by Wagner and Stanforth. She walked towards them instantly, recognizing them from the email she had received. Stanforth had the immediate impression that she was an attractive woman of about thirty. She had shoulder length hair and a pretty face, but sorrow and cynicism now marked the face that must once have looked innocent and promising after experiencing the worst of human nature. Nevertheless it did not check her beauty - to Stanforth it made her look even more attractive.
"Ah, Captain Young, I presume," Wagner said with a smile, extending a hand.
"Ma'am," she said respectfully, shaking the hand but not returning the smile.
"Well, we'll get right down to business," Stanforth said, noticing with some amusement that a flicker of relief briefly fluttered across her face. "You and the Silent Night are going to these coordinates," he passed a small, handheld computer to her, "to investigate an anomaly we may have discovered out there."
Young didn't even look at the computer. "That's ridiculous, sir" she said simply. "Why would you send the best cruiser in the fleet to investigate some anomaly?"
Stanforth looked at her reproachfully. "Maybe you should look at the computer, captain," he said. "The coordinates indicated are far beyond the edge of our boundaries. Indeed I believe we are practically there right now. But it will take you months to get to your destination."
Young glanced at the screen and raised an eyebrow. "Alright, sir, I concur with your analysis, but still, I must ask why not send a prowler? Many of them are now equipped with Fujikawa Shaw Slipstream generators."
"True," Wager interjected, "but the Silent Night is equipped with a modified generator and the best Fusion Engine Core we have been able to build. We have to get there fast, captain."
"May I ask why, ma'am," she asked Wagner.
"No," she retorted. "We'll tell you everything you'll need to know. Keep in mind we'll be in constant with you via subspace messaging. You'll have to send us monthly reports and then daily once you reach your final destination. Understood?"
"Yes, ma'am," she said, saluting crisply. Stanforth and Wagner returned the gesture.
After this short debriefing Young walked back to the personal docking station to the pelican that would bring her back to the Silent Night.
Stanforth leaned over Wagner's shoulder and said quietly into her ear, "Do you think we just sentenced her to death?"
Wagner shrugged impassively, putting herself in a different mindset so as she would not be haunted by the awful possibility. "I would hope not, admiral. We need to find out what the gods' cudgel is."
They looked out a window and watched the pelican enter the cruiser's docking bay.
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