JumpStart

Champagne Universe Book 1

By A. K. Brown

Squid Publishing Edition License Notes

Copyright © 2016 A.K. Brown

All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, libraries, and events are either a product of the author’s fertile imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, repositories, places or people (living, dead or undead) is purely coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Contents

Title

Chapter One

The End

Other Titles by A.K. Brown

Afterword

Acknowledgments

Cover Art

Connect with A.K. Brown

Chapter One

Dr. Stevenson’s Lab, Washington DC

It is not often that one can say with absolute certainty that the world had irreversibly changed. John stared at the wall clock enthralled as the second hand of this new reality ticked slowly by. Clamoring for attention in his peripheral vision, the computer screen flashed those fateful words in large green letters, ‘Simulation Successful!’

John scrunched his eyes shut before taking a deep breath from flash pain in his lower back. The last round of tests had been particularly gruesome. His head pounded from long hours of sustained concentration and copious amounts of caffeine. John rubbed his temples and the fragile skin under his thickset glasses that always burrowed into the bridge of his nose.

Resetting his Buddy Holly black frames on his nose, John opened his eyes. He stared at the computer screen and knew that when others discovered this new reality, they would stop at nothing to control it.

Developing a working theory was one thing, applying it to build a prototype is something else entirely! Leaning forward, John focused on the monitor. The words were still there… blinking loudly, taunting him. His thoughts strayed momentarily onto the devastating implications if his discovery fell into the wrong hands.

Eventually, casting aside those weighty notions, he focused on his achievement; a smile crawled across his face to settled into his ‘happy-campus’.

He was experimenting with matter transportation through the nth dimension.

What started out two years ago as a random thought experiment, had led to this astonishing discovery. Matter, in theory, could be transported outside of space-time from one location to another. Instantaneous travel was theoretically possible!

John’s unrestrained laughter echoed off the sterile lab walls. In a spontaneous moment of joy, he jumped up and started dancing haphazardly around the room. Lost in his own merriment, he miss-stepped badly to come crashing down onto the floor, still shaking with mirth.

He was taken by surprise when the lab door flung open framing a petite, wide-eyed brunette sporting a pristine white lab coat.

“Are you ok?” Jen asked.

“Ha, ha … I’ve never been better ...”

Jennifer looked down at him with a frown. Is he some crazed psychopath? Shaking her head, she should have checked the other tenants to this lab facility before she moved here!

Jen stood there frozen, with the door wide, caught in John’s line of sight, undecided as to inquire further or just leave. John lay on the floor laughing while he struggled to regain his composure.

“Are you sure you’re OK?” she said with a nasal Australian accent.

“Yes, yes, I just had wonderful news.”

Jen waited for him to elaborate further, nothing. Then finally she prompted him, “You just won the lottery?”

John laughed, “No. Something much better.”

Slowly, he got to his feet and straightened his glasses. His face flushed as he noticed how beautiful Jen was. Her crinkled forehead and smiley crow feet eyes betrayed her concern at his spontaneous outburst. Her interest flushed his crimson cheeks even more.

After an uncomfortable moment of silence, Jen realized that John was not going to be any more forthcoming, so she half-smiled and turned to the door.

“Crazy Americans,” Jen muttered to herself, as she turned away and left the room.

John shook his head. Damn! It was obvious that he needed to brush up on his social skills; that wasn’t half awkward, she must think I’m nuts. She did have a nice smile though.

♦♦♦

Jen walked back to her lab trying to refocus her thoughts after the annoying interruption of her apparently crazy neighbor. She needed to get some work done as time was running out.

She had recently moved house leaving Sydney to live in Washington DC. Since getting her doctorate, she had been struggling to find work in Australia. Her big break had come when an American research firm headhunted her to bolster up their research profile. As quickly as her big break had come, it had mysteriously disappeared.

Once the company had secured the tender for some fat Department of Defense contracts, her services were no longer needed. Rightly annoyed she’d sent letters and emails to anyone who would listen, but to no avail. Knowing the injustice, and proving it, were two entirely different things.

Her right to work in the States was quickly becoming a problem, her visa required her to have active long term employment. In a last ditch attempt, she called in a favor from a friend she’d met at the university for some medium-term contract analysis work. She had hoped this would be enough to circumvent the visa restrictions, but more importantly, solve her immediate money problems. Nevertheless, she was far from convinced it would be sufficient; She needed something else… A backup plan, a plan ‘B’.

♦♦♦

John finally calmed down after his outburst and reseated himself at his desk. Focusing his attention back on his computer screen, he clicked through his nth dimensional model checking its parameter inputs once again. He had to be absolutely sure of all his calculations. One wrong calculation and he could rip a hole in space-time. He wasn’t sure what would happen then. All he knew was that it would be bad, very bad.

Working late into the night, John eventually pushed his chair out and turned off his computer. He decided it was time for an impromptu celebration. Realizing it was quite late, he discounted calling his longtime reservist friend Elvis. His real name wasn’t actually Elvis; he had acquired that nickname when he was in the Army. Elvis like to hum the lyrics to one of his namesake’s song, ‘A Big Hunk O’ Love’. It invariably annoyed the rest of his unit when he hummed it loud enough to be overheard by their NCO; who gave them all demerit calisthenics each time. John tried not to laugh at the sexual innuendo, but sometimes, army peer pressure just forced the humor out.

Searching his pockets for the lab key, John walked through the entrance and quietly closed the door. Bright light escaped from under Jen’s door into the dark corridor. John smiled at the opportunity fate brought before him. Striding up to her door he knocked briefly. Soft tapping from inside stopped, and an echo of stiletto footsteps made their way towards him. John straightened his glasses and blurted out his invitation as Jen slowly opened the door.

“Thanks for your offer of help before, I don’t usually go around acting crazy like that.” She couldn’t disguise her annoyance of a caller at such an hour, and their temerity to interrupt her train of thought. John immediately realized he was intruding, but it was too late to take it back. The bright lights from inside the lab coupled with Jen’s agonized expression couldn’t take away the tempered beauty he saw framed within.

Irritated by the intrusion, but after seeing the dilemma on John’s face, Jen smiled and shook her head at their earlier encounter. It was kinda funny seeing a grown man wallow on the ground in obvious delight.

“As long as you don’t make a habit of it. You know, I thought you were going to clean the whole floor with your back with all that giggling.” Her crinkle laughter lines smiled even further.

“Ha, ha… I had a small breakthrough,” John said nervously.

What? Giggling, John grimaced inwardly, like a girl? Hrrummm.

After a short silence, he continued, “It’s getting late, and I just thought … I hate celebrating alone.”

Jen looked at him for a long time trying to determine his motives before nodding briefly.

“There’s a pub, ‘The Flying Jack’ that I sometimes go to, it's just down the street,” said John.

Jen remembered the bar, she had passed it on her way to the lab that very morning. The joint was not too shabby, there was a rustic feel to it. The tacky playing cards magically stuck to the walls at odd angles as though launched from a full pack by a dealer. Their color strewn all over set a festive mood, making the place look somewhat, inviting.

It could be worse she thought, after the day she’d had, she could use a drink.

“OK, but no crazy breakthroughs.”

“Deal,” John said smiling.

♦♦♦

Ten minutes later, the two were sitting at a corner table in ‘The Flying Jack’ nursing a couple of drinks. The late hour had stilled the other patrons. The subdued lighting complemented the Jazz playing softly through hidden speakers. It gave the room a dreamy understated atmosphere.

“So, are you going to tell me what we’re celebrating?”

John was decidedly uncomfortable with her innocent question. Jen could see he was debating with himself, he finally took a large gulp of scotch and whispered, “I think I just worked out how to teleport matter.”

“Yes, well very funny!” Jen replied. Obviously it was too hush, hush. “I understand. Forget I asked.”

“No, it’s true!”

Jen just smiled. It was a hazard of the industry they worked in; secrets were a necessary evil.

“Well then, you can beam me up another drink Scotty.”

Chapter Two

John was a self-proclaimed inventor. He had had a few careers in his life bouncing from one job to another, which was surprising given his middle-class American family upbringing. His childhood was almost devoid of any unusual occurrence until his teens. It was a singularly mediocre existence that was suddenly turned upside down when his mother upped and left. She disappeared without a trace. There was no note of explination, there were no transactions on the bank statement, there was just… nothing.

His father, Andrew Stevenson, was a nervous man that had plied his only skill, ‘Financial Consulting’, to their family’s ruin. It was not that the man was bad at his job; he endured life with a circular depressing resolve after his wife had disappeared. Sadly, lacking any of life's motivation, he fought the dangerous nature of economics and big business to no avail. The nest-egg they had put aside was squandered on indulgent self-pity.

He had never gotten over the emotional loss she had inadvertently wrought on the family. It was more the not knowing than anything else. Being the dutiful father, he’d attempted to take on both parenting roles, but unfortunately overcompensated and made a hash of it. He eventually found a niche for his skills in a nefarious money laundering operation with the nasty Massioni family from the New York underworld scene.

Where John lived, sons usually followed their father’s profession. The furtive looks from neighbors and the not so silent whispers from school mates ensured he spent most of his teens avoiding what his father had become. Finally, to escape the vicious cycle, he confronted his father. In a final act of contrition, his father forced John to spend the remainder of his schooling living with his Aunt Grace. She had been awkward, antisocial and sometimes downright mean. But ultimately, they’d come to a rocky understanding.

When he finished his schooling, and real adulthood threatened his tiny existence, he roamed the streets lost like brush weed dancing from one place to the next driven by winds of laconic pleasure.

His life changed radically after one hell of a night of copious amounts of drugs and alcohol when he found himself in front of a judge explaining why he had put a goat into the co-pilot seat of a helicopter he took on a joy flight. It struck John as funny that the first thing the judge asked about was the goat and not that he was seventeen and didn’t have a pilot’s license. His only answer to the judge was, “Well… I needed a radio operator, and he could talk just as well as those in the control tower.” The whole courtroom burst into laughter, except the judge.

The judge sentenced him, to either two years in the military or ten of community service, for his lack of judgment and reckless endangerment. John couldn’t see himself doing the time helping grannies across the road, so he took what he thought was the easy option, a stint in the army. He sometimes mused that maybe if he had brought the goat in as a material witness, the sentence might have been different.

♦♦♦

Several days later, John was at his desk reminiscing on the impromptu celebration he had had the other night with Jen. He had found out how she was treated by her previous employer and was appalled. He thought that workers had at least some rights, even those from overseas.

Focusing back on his model he realized he would need to build the field generators so that he could manipulate the fields to replicate his model. It was necessary otherwise he couldn’t create the nth dimensional portal. There had recently been stunning advances in not only detecting Higgs Bosun particles but in manipulating them and their energy state within the Higgs field.

Once again he started to make a long list of equipment, scribbling items on the pad he kept on his desk. Time seemed to disappear into a vortex. John had this uncanny ability to focus absolutely on something when he needed to. It was one of the reasons why his scientific endeavors had been so successful.

After his stomach had growled for the tenth time, John walked out of the building to the nearest cafeteria. He noticed Jen sitting in the corner tucking into some steaming hot soup while managing to spill droplets of stark orange all over her pristine lab coat. Smiling and waving, she motioned for him to take a seat.

“How’s the analysis going?” he said.

“Just finishing up … It’s only a small job,” she replied after gulping and slurping a mouthful.

From what John remembered of her description the other night, it was a complicated analysis of laser burn rates on armor plating and theoretical shielding using fields theory. For her to finish so quickly meant she was either a fool or a brilliant analyst. He could tell she was no fool.

Jen continued to slurp her soup looking at John over the top of her thin-rimmed glasses. She was thinking of the celebratory night. This guy was some seriously quirky scientist. Although long ago she had realized that she liked quirky. Well, some quirky, a girl had to have standards.

“I saw all the deliveries to your lab earlier,” Jen said with an intensity of curiosity which surprised John. The deliveryman had nearly knocked her over twice. She was contemplating whether to say something about the bruising on her ass.

“I’m nearly ready to test my modeling,” John said tentatively.

Jen looked directly at him, disarming him with her smile. She chuckled to herself, thinking of the teleportation joke he made the other night.

“How long do you have here?” John asked about her work status, as he nodded to what looked like immigration papers. She had been looking at the complicated forms strewn across the table with spills of soup all over them. Her nose crinkled at the complexity of bureaucracy. She had lost count of the number of forms that she’d filled in. It was a silly game she played with herself, to distract from the actual act of filling forms in.

“A month maybe, two and a half at most,” she said.

“Then what will you do?”

“If I don’t find work soon, I’ll have to return to Sydney.”

“Is money that tight?”

Jen just smiled, trying not to make a big deal about it.

“Not exactly,” she finally replied. “I have to justify to immigration that I have a job to comply with my work visa,” she said as she sipped more soup. “No work … no visa.”

The waitress arrived at the table with a small pad and pen in hand, interrupting the two.

“Nachos and a Fanta please,” John said staring up at the dark haired woman standing there expectantly.

The waitress scribbled in the shorthand they do and stiffly walked away. Her ill fit uniform caught John’s interest, despite her precise presentation topped with a smartly positioned cap.

Jen frowned a surprise at John’s interest in the elderly waitress.

“I may have something for you...,” John said without thinking.

“Really?” Jen looked at John with curiosity written on her face.

Thinking quickly, “I need some analysis on a targeting mechanism.”

Jen stared directly at John.

What the hell am I doing? Is it the crazies? John thought.

“Oh …you do?” Jen said non-committal. She resumed eating her soup to give herself time to think. Finishing the spoonful, she smiled.

John was flabbergasted at himself.

Seriously, what the hell am I doing! She left him hanging there awkwardly with just slurping noises, without responding.

He had essentially offered her a position, but even more than that, a way to stay in the country and all she could do was to eat soup!

Damn her smile.

“I’ll be finished in a week. Umm, I’ll report for duty on the following Tuesday, if that’s ok?”

John had never had to look after anyone in his line of research work before. He had commanded many soldiers in the Army and the Reserves. He was, however, sure it would be different with civilians.

Why was he doing this again? Oh yeah, that damn smile.

He was comfortable alone in his little world testing theories, making models and then building the prototype to on-sell it to manufacturers. He had done this numerous times before. That’s how he had gained his small fortune, which was just enough to allow him to do the things he wanted. He sold his ideas as full-scale inventions to corporation’s then reaped the royalties. He was definitely not interested in the business side of manufacture and sales / distribution.

But now he was taking on employees… sigh.

“Excellent,” was all John could manage.

♦♦♦

Just over a week later John sat at his work bench calibrating the unusual mixture of equipment. Totally engrossed, he didn’t notice Jen enter the lab and walk around the counter to lean in looking carefully at what John was doing.

“What power setting are you using to set the field?” Jen asked curiously.

Startled from his deep concentration, John quickly straightened up. Seeing her right there made him smile. He was thunderstruck, she was wearing an unusual fragrance; flowery with the smallest hint of zesty fruit. Her glasses framed her slightly oval face. Her mousey brown hair was set back behind her ears with the remainder in a ponytail. She figited under his scrutiny by straightening her now pristine lab coat. All the splotches of orange pumpkin soup from the previous day had magically disappeared.

Walking over to his admin desk John drew out a sheaf of papers.

“I have some paperwork for you to fill in,” John said handing over a weeks’ worth of forms. He had unfortunately contracted his lawyer who drew up a non-disclosure agreement that was surprisingly thick. His other major pit stop was his accountant where forms seemed to sprout from his hand.

“The government has its weird employment ways,” his accountant confessed.

Jen reached into her own bag and pulled out a sheaf of paperwork of her own. Handing them over she said, “If you don’t mind filling these out to say that you’re employing me so I can extend my visa, that would be beaut,” she said with laughter in her eyes.

Her sheaf was bigger than his.

Taking the papers with an inward groan, John briefly scanned them looking at all the detail he would need to fill in. “I’ll need a copy of your resume…,” John asked belatedly. A tinge of red airbrushed his cheeks. At least with that it will make filling in the forms that much simpler. John sighed as bureaucracy, and red tape reared its ugly head again.

It would take weeks to finalize all the paperwork. John had been both anxious and pleased at the prospect of working with Jen. However, he was a little apprehensive about including her on as paid staff given the unexpected outlays to cover her employment. His accountant had been more than thorough giving him every detail of expense and tax. He almost thought the accountant delighted in his misery. But then recoiled realizing it was only the accountant's enthusiasm that had boiled over. Although his previous inventions had given him a steady stream of royalties, he wasn't exactly overly flush with funds. However, he did have a solution if she went for it. Fingers crossed.

“Look we didn’t actually discuss your salary. I’ve not got bags of money.”

Here we go… Jen thought.

“What I can offer you is a small starting salary with a proportion of the royalties. If … No I mean when we market this new invention, I believe that you will be more than handsomely compensated.”

It was a surprise and not what Jen was expecting. She had never had an invention let alone one developed to the point of being sold. She thought about it and realized it was just another form of employee participation scheme companies would use to get the best productivity from their employees.

“I need at least enough to live on till the millions just start rolling in...” Jen said with a smile. John just melted again.

Over the next couple of hours, the two negotiated Jen’s employment contract, finally settling on 5% of the royalties.

Jen signed the contract and nondisclosure declaration with a flourish.

“So boss... what’s next,” Jen said as her glasses slipped to the end of her nose giving her a demure librarian look.

“Please unpack the projector parts and set them on that bench over there, while I pull together an overview for you.”

Jen left to fetch the boxes as he marshaled his thoughts into some semblance of order. It was complicated, he thought, as he shifted through concepts in his mind to make what he was building understandable.

I hope this isn’t a mistake, John thought.

His accountant had advised him to hire an investigator to check out Jen’s background. John was surprised he had the PI on speed dial as he vouched for the veracity of his investigator, as well as his discretion. John had told the PI he only needed to know whether she was an honorable person.

Before their meeting, the elderly detective gave John an unusual response.

“If she were my daughter I would be proud of her.” John thought about this answer and smiled. The PI had given him exactly what he needed without compromising what he considered was her privacy.

He realized it was an unusual position to send the investigator spying on her and yet claim he’d kept her privacy. He rationalized, if he didn’t know her background and the PI was not involved further, then her privacy was still intact. John chastised himself, as an employer, he had a right to know. He guessed he just didn’t like the employer bit of the working relationship. He resolved to tell Jen that he had contracted an investigator to do a background check.

It took hours of discussion for John to explain his findings. His ideas and models flowed through her, captivating every fiber. When he had finished, the startling realization struck her between the eyes like lightning. Her hazel eyes stared intently at the model on screen then into his.

“Oh my God! You weren't kidding. You actually have developed matter teleportation!”

John smiled at her incredulity.

“Once we set-up this equipment we should see if the modeling matches reality.”

Jen's eyes widened as she sat back stunned at the discovery, not only modeling but prototyping.

A tense excitement ran through her in waves of warmth.

She’ll be at the forefront of this world-changing innovation. She also felt a real sense of honor and gratitude towards John for picking her to participate in the groundbreaking work. Then in the next instant, had doubts. Biting her bottom lip, she wondering why he had picked her! There were plenty of highly qualified people here on campus that were excellent, it’s a university where they study particle physics for Christ’s sake.

Jen turned abruptly back to John, he had started talking again.

“… So, I’ll need you to look at the nth field targeting so when the object dematerializes from here, we can rematerialize it there. I believe your work with the shield field harmonics will come in handy allowing us to target and rematerialize the material correctly.”

Jen was instantly relieved; he had chosen her for her professional work rather than something superficial like her looks.

As the week progressed Jen was a rack of nerves while all the immigration paperwork was being finalized. The whole employment process smacked of something not quite right. She had doubts and ugly suspicions. She had already been conned once. It was all too good to be true, she told herself. Perhaps that’s why immigration took so long to respond. She chastised herself a hundred times for the negative thoughts she had, especially those demeaning John’s character.

It didn’t help when John mentioned private bloody investigators. She would work herself up second-guessing this royalty thing. What if all he’s got is a theory? Just a theory? She would get nothing! Biting her bottom lip, she mused at her own insecurity. Was this guy really on the level? She could see that what he said conformed to the data, but part of the scientist’s job is to question it all. That's just it though, he’s not a scientist, he’s an inventor!

So to distract herself she thought about how the teleportation system would apply to this new field being generated by the projectors.

“How do you propose to get enough power needed to rematerialize the object?” she asked.

“Once the power reaches the breach point the new target location is set. The power cut off should snap it back to this dimension.”

Jen was still looking confused, so John continued.

“Let me explain it this way, each place in space has a specific harmonic resonance. If you imagine two musicians in an orchestra, say a violinist and a harpist. We start at a point in space where the violinist sits. Our reality is harmonized to that location. We then create a bubble in which we alter the harmonic resonance to reflect that of the harpist. Then suddenly and instantaneously you are transported to the destination of the harpist.

It’s a little more complicated than that, but basically, we need to map the harmonics in three dimensions from here and at our target destination point.”

Jen thought about what he was saying. “The calculations to compute the resonance from one place to another must be astronomical. To take initial resonance from here and then propagate it through to another location to determine the resonance there.”

“Yes, you’re right... I purchased one of the few SR 17 quantum computers,” John said matter-of-factly.

Jen was stunned looking around the room for one of those incredible machines. Quantum computers had developed in leaps and bounds. Their calculation capacity was phenomenal, as was their size, currently about that of a household fridge / freezer. They were still exorbitantly expensive, really only the domain of large corporations and governments. How John had gotten one; he was just full of surprises.

“I have set up a secure link to it. Currently, it’s sitting in one of the data comms secure storage data houses off campus.” His modeling and targeting could only have been possible with the computational power of the new quantum computers. Calculating the harmonics of different locations required its unique multiprocessing capabilities.

♦♦♦

John sat at his desk staring at the sender field of an email that had dropped into his inbox. The unopened email, from Andrew Stevenson, blinked several times before it disappeared into the trash unopened.

He hadn’t spoken to his father in several years. Why now?

The email had come via the university domain. His father must have been keeping tabs on him. John shrugged inwardly and tried to put it out of his mind.

♦♦♦

John gripped the bench until his knuckles went white. He surveyed the equipment assembled there and recounted in his mind each of the objects before him. Like a massive jigsaw puzzle, each piece of equipment contributed to making the roadmap for the teleporter. They needed this to be able to target from one place to another. Building this roadmap was an important first step in the teleportation process.

When all the preparations were completed, they were checked and double-checked. John flicked the on switch. An annoying whine boxed at their ears as the projector targeting equipment warmed. Slowly the intensity built to a crescendo. A piercing high-pitched metallic sound screamed through the lab loud enough that it would have been heard from across the road.

Doctor La Perouse, a researcher from next door, rushed up and banged on the lab door yelling.

“Keep it down will you Stevenson! Some of us have real work to get on with!”

John just looked at the closed door without commenting. He had had his troubles with the rotund researcher ever since he had moved into the university lab complex.

La Perouse had accused John of stealing his ideas for an invention he was working on for the DOD. It was something to do with sonic devices. John hadn’t bothered to find out. It seemed like every week the researcher had some gripe against him.

John eventually had had to placate the University Administrator, whom he could tell was getting tired of the situation. John knew that his contract with the University would be the one that was terminated rather than La Perouse’s. The DOD would no doubt take precedence even with La Perouse at the pointy end. Every time that La Perouse blew up, John was sure the administrator would make some subtle move to encourage him to placate the Frenchman. John borrowed the expensive equipment from and the Lab Administration at minimal lending fees. But for how long? La Perouse was shaking the apple cart. It annoyed John no end. They would need to mute the sound.

Jen frowned not saying anything while looking over at John. After they had suspended work on their mapping to install some serious sound-proofing, they worked away the hours calibrating the protectors then mapping the harmonic resonance of reality. Hours turned into days until it became a regular rhythm. Each day the two would break for lunch and discuss the targeting or some other aspect of the project. Then they would return to the lab for a repeat of the morning. John’s quiet yet commanding demeanor was offset by Jen's sharp wit and inquiring curiosity. Both found a comfortable tempo set in.

Chapter Three

In a nearby star system aboard the Squishy Pirate Ship, Kator

The Kator, shuddered as large pieces of the freighter’s engines exploded in an expanding bubble of energy. The plasma ball accelerated out creating a shock-wave that buffeted against the Kator’s shields. The wrecked freighter spun out of control off the port side.

Kazorr, the weapons officer, sat with his slobbery mouth gaping open at the main view-screen. His eyes turned on their stalks towards his commander in a plea for mercy.

“Kazorr you idiot! You have blown the engines,” Commander Kane yelled.

They had been slowly trailing the freighter for over a week, waiting for the ship to drop out of FTL. It was pure luck that they had caught up, and Kane was not one to ever miss a golden opportunity to expand his wealth.

“First the Patrons wipe-out our home world, now you blow any chance of us making any credits,” Kane said in his gruff sinking voice. His irritation was highlighted by a jet spray of multicolored ink with negative chunks of hard pheromones aimed towards his tactical officer. The Commander’s aim was off sending it messily over the back of the sensor officer’s bulbous head instead.

The unintended victim squealed in surprise.

“Damn,” the commander muttered under his breath.

He knew that he wasn't fair, but if it made his crew more efficient after his wrath, then he would use it, and abuse them. Sometimes he thought he got too much pleasure out of it, but laughed it off as childish musings.

The Squishys were an intelligent flamboyant species of sentient Octopi.

“That’s coming out of your share Kazorr!” Kane bellowed. His two side tentacles quivered then wound around the coral pedestal in the middle of the Kator’s bridge. His suckers pulsed angrily as he reassigned Kazorr’s share of the prize.

Kazorr cursed his bad luck under his breath without taking his two stalk eyes off the main viewer. His eyes had telescoped out of his head. The rest of his normally flexible octopus shape sat rigid to the chair. Kazorr’s eyes always seem to pop out on their stalks when he was under stress, like a nervous twitch. His schoolmates had played cruel games tormenting him to see how many times in one day they could stress him then squish his eyestalks back into his head. Kazorr hated it. He would never forget the high pitch squeals of laughter from his classmates.

His two mid-tentacles wound around the tactical station chair holding him tight, as if in response to those heady schooldays. The tuberous elongated head started to change color taking a stressed induced pale shade of white as he listened to his commander. His two fore-tentacles squelched and sucked the control console betraying his tension.

Kane turns around looking for his next victim. “Drakmok! You’re our salvage expert! Get out there and see what’s left of that freighter that we can salvage,” the Commander roared.

Drakmok could only stand aghast. The chaotic spinning of the engine-less wreckage would make it almost impossible to retrieve safely. His left appendage had only just regrown since he had lost it on the last salvage. He didn’t want to go through the pain of regrowth again.

♦♦♦

The Squishys were an unusual species in that their make-up was similar to that of a Terran octopus with a few significant differences. The first and foremost being, that these octopi had an extra pair of lungs so that they could breathe air directly; however, they still had gills inside their mouths that absorbed oxygen through water under pressure. The second major difference was that the back two tentacles were much larger than the others and could be stiffened as hard as stone enabling them to walk on their hind tentacles. Terran octopi do crawl on land, primarily using their hind tentacles to propel them to new hunting grounds, but they required salt water spray while they traverse from one pool to another. Squishys would not be found far from water. Even their starships had generous salt dipping pools throughout their interiors.

Their tall, scary appearance was contrary to their flamboyant and often childishly chaotic natures, which with their chameleon-like abilities, meant they morphed into endless displays of color and. Hide and seek was a favorite game they played well into their adulthood. Their communication was a baffling mixture of speech, and colorful, dramatic body poses. Tentacle posture was often used as an accent to emphasize their points of view. Their lives seemed to revolve around the senses, with smell seemingly the least used... their body odor was disgustingly fishy!

The Squishys were only one of many younger races in this arm of the Milky Way galaxy. Intelligent species were forcibly aligned within politically unified blocks to the older advanced space faring Patron species. The Patrons brutally enforced their edicts over their subjugated dominion.

Chapter Four

Ferntree Hill Observatory

The newest and most sophisticated space sensor built by humans, the Tachyon Sensor Array (TACSA) at Ferntree Hill Observatory, Los Alamos, ran silently monitoring FTL particles from neighboring stars to determine their make-up. The emissions piqued from the explosive flash that signaled the fateful demise of the defenseless freighter.

♦♦♦

Deep within the Oval Office, the President sat in his favorite comfy chair nursing a scotch neat. The Science Advisor and Secretary of Defense sat opposite him sipping their own drinks.

“Mr. President, it’s been confirmed that the TACSA picked up nuclear denotations in outer space. It looks like we are not alone after all,” pronounced the Office of Science and Technology director.

“Has it hit the newswire yet?” the President asked.

“I believe there’s been some blogging and twitters. However, since it’s been confirmed officially today, the stories will undoubtedly be picked up by the mainstream news and media. The Ferntree Hill Observatory Director is planning a press release.”

President Avery Kennedy, turned to his friend Brad Wellington the newly appointed Secretary of Defense. The older secretary spoke out, “Shall I put together a special meeting with USSTRATCOM?”

The President furrowed his brow, “Is that the bit of the military that looks after space defense?” asked the President.

The Defense Secretary smiled, “Yes Sir, Space Command and Army Space Missile Defense Command.”

President Kennedy just shook his head before speaking up, “Ok, but make sure the Joint Chiefs are included. I’m sure they’d get their knickers in a twist if they weren’t.”

It was Brad’s turn to shake his head. “Mr. President, you can be too flippant sometimes. I wouldn’t want the press to get hold of that.”

The President smiled with a crooked grin, “Brad, you worry too much. Just get that scheduled, we need to work up a response to this,” said the President waving his glass in the air.

“Yes, Mr. President… Avery.” The President then laughed aloud at his friend’s uncommon use of his first name.

Chapter Five

Ready Set Go …

John pulled back surveying the equipment set up over the three benches in the lab.

“I think we’re finally ready to test the teleporter. We have enough mapping to the local area to get a decent target profile. Let’s start the next phase afresh in the morning.”

Jen looked at John and just nodded. They could barely contain themselves that evening having a restless, sleepless night.

In the morning, John got into the lab early to setup the harmonic emitters and power generator. When Jen arrived, he had already moved on to the power conduits apparatus.

John threw Jen a pristine green apple.

“Use that for our first test subject. Let’s see if we can transport it from this bench to that bench,” John said as he motioned towards the two benches.

Without been directed, Jen placed the apple on the source bench platform and cleared the target platform location. John smiled as she got straight to work on calibrating the targeting.

Twenty minutes later as the clock struck 8 AM, John raced over and turned on the video camera before lining up beside his computer terminal.

“Are you ready?”

Jen made one final adjustment on the target matrix then nodded.

Pointing to a second pair of goggles while John repositioned his own pair, he took one last quick look at Jen and smiled with anticipation.

“Right, here we go.” Leaning forward to watch their equipment intently, John pushed the ‘Enter’ button on his console.

Suddenly a violent implosion flung both of them off their feet forwards towards the remnant of the bench and back onto the floor. The source apparatus stood in ruins. Smoke billowed from the edges of it where there was a sharp sphere shape cut-out of the bench.

The two disentangled their limbs from each other to stagger upright, only to see their half destroyed lab obscured by all the smolder. Both of them waved their arms to dispel the smoke and heat out the window. They were further startled by the brash clanging of the fire alarm as it started up. A minute later, a torrent of water came pouring down through the ceiling sprinkler system, drenching them and their equipment.

“Holy Crap!” mouthed Jen.

“Where’s the apple?” John said aloud. It wasn’t on the destination bench platform.

John stared at the spherical cut-out in the source bench grinning.

A few minutes later, they could hear sounds of a huge ruckus from emergency services sirens echoing up through the window. The two turned to each other and rushed towards the opening. Their eyes wide and mouths agape despite the smoke. They stared across the car park at the wreckage of a very expensive BMW. Pieces of debris lay scattered over the surrounding vehicles and walkways. Nestled in the middle of the ruined sports car, stood a pristine spherical cut-out of a bench with an unmarked delicious green apple sitting centered atop of it.

John couldn't contain his joy and started giggling, which quickly became infectious. Soon both of them were in full swing doing-the-crazies. Each time they’d stop, one would start again until their eyes watered. Jen yelled out above the noise of the sirens and pointed at the debris, “Oh no, was that old Grumpy Bum, La Perouse’s’ car?” The realization that their annoying neighbor’s car was in pieces brought on another fit of laughter.

By the time the two had made their way down the stairs from the lab and entered the car park, the place was an anthill of activity. The police were busy trying to cordon off the area. Bomb disposal units made sure that what remained of the car was safe while the fire brigade stood off stunned like the rest of the crowd.

La Perouse was arguing fiercely with a detective attempting to get the story straight. John could hear only muffled sounds over all the commotion. From his left, two policemen walked by discussing how weird the debris pattern from the bomb blast was. The singularly important question, ‘How could a bench just appear in the middle of the car so soon after the blast?’ Someone had removed the apple and was riffling through what was left of the bench draws. La Perouse then spotted John and started gesticulating madly, pointing directly at him yelling obscenities in French.

John took that as a sign to scat out of there. Grabbing Jen’s hand, he pulled her through the crowd off the street and back towards the lab. Holding her hand felt comfortable. He could hear the scuffle of boots on the ground running after them. Worried it was La Perouse and the police, they quickly ducked into a small side alley.

Jen sidled up to him and whispered … “Why are we hiding?”

When John didn’t comment she continued, “Seriously, La Perouse is an idiot.”

“I’m not worried about La Perouse. I’m worried about the DHS (Dept. of Homeland Security) assuming some terrorist set a bomb off in downtown DC. Bomb Disposal officers were trawling through the car and bench. If they think we’re working on a new type of bomb...”

Scarcely a minute later two policemen walked past the entrance of the alley. John moved closer to Jen almost touching face to face. Looking at her lips he lowered his voice further, “If they think that we’re responsible, they’ll shut us down quicker than you can change your lipstick.”

♦♦♦

University Carpark, Washington DC

Michael O’Brien was a dangerous looking person with a street scarred face. Twenty years on the police force and more in the DHS had hardened him to the extremes of human nature. His typically cranky demeanor hadn’t changed for the better this morning since receiving the report of an explosion near the University … in Downtown DC no less. The last few years had been tough on him since his wife was killed in the London bombings. He’d made a lucky escape, but his wife sitting not two feet from him hadn’t been so fortunate. Survivor’s guilt trailed him like a shadow. Changing jobs to the DHS hadn't helped. So he spent many an evening at the local pub trying to forget that damned holiday to the U.K.

“What do you mean there is no explosive residue?” O’Brien queried the forensic investigator as the two walked around what was left of the BMW as other investigators took samples and pictures.

“We found no trace,” reiterated the investigator shaking his head. “What else is strange is that there’s part of a bench at the flash point, right in the center of the wreckage.”

The investigator then pulled out a sample bag with a green apple in it. “You’re going to like this …” the investigator said with a smile, “this was sitting on top. It’s without any blast marks on it, so must’ve been placed there after the explosive was detonated.”

O’Brien stared at the apple then the wreckage. “Who would put a desk in the middle of an exploded car?” the agent said shaking his head in disbelief. In all his time on the job, he had never come across such bizarre behavior.

“It’s a bench… Not a desk,” interrupted another investigator. “It’s like something that’s used in a lab.”

“And the apple?” O’Brien queried.

“It’s a green Crispin, you can buy that locally here at any greengrocer. We have dusted it for prints and DNA.”

The agent walked around the remnants of the car once more trying to piece together some motive but shook his head without an answer.

He then caught the attention of the officer talking to a very round animated man. O’Brien had been on the job many years. He could tell the civilian was an intellectual and given the university’s close proximity, this guy was probably a scientist or lecturer.

The Officer walked over to O’Brien eyeing his DHS credentials hanging loosely out of his suit pocket. “That is Dr. La Perouse. All this wreckage is his car, or what’s left of it.”

“Dr. La Perouse? Medical?” O’Brien said.

“No, scientific. He works at the University down the road. He’s currently under contract with the DOD on weapons research.”

“Great, just what we need, more weapons!”

The two officials walked back to the scientist. “Doctor La Perouse, my name is Agent O’Brien. I’m from the DHS…”

“Yes, yes!” he broke in impatiently. “What are you doing about my car! I just bought it last week and now look at it. What am I going to tell my insurance? You need to write a report for the insurance company...” he said visibly working up to a tirade.

“Doctor,” O’Brien cut-in with a loud bark. “I'm not here to write reports for insurance companies so you can get your little toy back.” The doctor stood with his mouth agape.

O’Brien had at this stage, only one possibility that seemed unlikely, ‘Was the doctor stupid enough to blow up his own car given his secret weapons research?’

“Can you think who would want to kill you?”

“No… No,” he said. A person clearly came to his mind.

“Doctor, need I remind you of the seriousness of the situation. We have a possible terrorist threat. Someone with the means and the motivation to use it.”

Two smartly dressed suits walked up to the doctor. “Are you alright Dr. La Perouse?”

“And you are?” O’Brien said as he turned towards the newcomers.

“My name is Thurston Hughes. I am the Administrator for the University, and this is my assistant Miss Jenkins.”

“Doctor, I would rather you didn’t say anything till our lawyers get here,” Thurston said to La Perouse.

La Perouse looked angry. “There is someone who has been stealing my ideas...”

“Doctor there is no evidence of that...” Thurston retorted.

“Dr. Stevenson,” was all the Frenchman said.

O’Brien took the cue and called his Admin Support Staff to do a background check of this Doctor Stevenson. Returning to the Administrator, he said in a gruff voice that brooked no argument, “Administrator, I would like to see this... Dr. Stevenson.”

“Fine,” Thurston replied reluctantly.

♦♦♦

Lt Colonel Dan Prior picked up the phone and listened for a few minutes before calling out to his adjutant. A bright looking young lieutenant entered smartly, saluted and stood at the ready for orders. Dan saluted and spoke up, “One salute in the morning is sufficient. Otherwise, we won’t get any work done at all.

“Book me on the next transport to Andrews. Then get me what you can on a civilian… a Dr. La Perouse and his colleague Dr. Stevenson. I believe La Perouse has some small business DOD contracts with us based in Washington DC.”

Dan then sat down and flicked through pages and pages of the latest sonic devices. Could this doctor have developed a new sonic weapon? The call from the Director of Air Force Research and Technologies had been disturbing. Dan had specialized in weapons research after bouncing from one scientific program to another. The unique nature of his job ensured he was quickly promoted through the ranks.

He was surprised that the pompous Dr. La Perouse had made what appeared to be some breakthrough. He recalled contracting the rotund scientist with serious reservations. Although now the plot thickened as he accused a colleague of stealing his ideas. Is this colleague a danger to the U.S.? The whole business was starting to leave a very bitter taste in his mouth.

Within the hour, Dan was in the air flying towards Andrews Air Force Base near Washington D.C. and this latest incident.

♦♦♦

John and Jen made their way back to their lab, avoiding any further police or government officials. The lab was a mess. Equipment was strewn all over the place with puddles of water from the fire sprinkler system.

There is no way in hell the university will let me stay now, John sighed.

After a few moments surveying the room John spotted the laptop and backup data storage units. Directing Jen to pick them up while he moved to retrieve the targeting sensor and field generator. Glancing out the window, John saw the University Administrator and his young assistant trailed by two enforcement officers walking across the grounds towards his building.

“Time to go,” John said.

They rushed out of the room and down the southern stairwell, their arms heavily laden with singed equipment. They made their way quickly through to the back of the building and outside where a white station wagon stood. He thanked his lucky stars he had brought the extra heavy duty conduits in that morning. The cable’s bulk had forced him to park in the small parking lot close to his lab’s rear exit. He stowed the equipment on the back seat while Jen jumped into the front passenger side. Quickly driving to the exit boom gates of the university, John saw in the distance the gray uniform of the pudgy guard manning the guard box.

Jen started to bite her bottom lip with nervous tension as they pulled up to the boom gate.

“Hello Dr. Stevenson, hold up a minute.”

“Yes?”

The guardhouse phone then started to ring. John’s foot hovered over the accelerator.

“We have a problem,” the guard said, “I had to turn back the delivery truck holding equipment you ordered.”

“What do you mean?” John gripped the steering wheel tightly, his hands turned white under the pressure, “Why?”

“Did you hear about the bomb in the main parking lot? The Administrator ordered that no deliveries are to be accepted today until the police have finished their investigations. I suggest you contact your supplier to get the order redelivered in a few days after all this mess has been sorted.”

“Oh! Of course,” John said letting his breath out slowly while shifting his foot.

The guard then turned and pushed the gate open button as he answered the phone again.

John immediately accelerated out of the grounds into the traffic almost hitting a passing car.

“What are we going to do? They are going to know it’s us.” Jen said. “I can’t afford to lose my work visa. I’ll never be able to work here again.”

“I think we have a slightly bigger problem than your work visa, like getting charged with terrorism.”

“And you think that running way will help?” Jen snapped.

“No, not in the long run. But I need a bit of time to figure out what our next move is.”

“What do you mean? Going to the police is the next move!” Jen countered.

“No, we can’t,” John said while turning the wheel. “The research we have done is not yet legally protected. We could lose everything.”

“But isn’t this sponsored by the Physics department? Isn’t it University protected?”

“This is not a university-sanctioned project. I lease the lab and their equipment. The work here is my project, not the Uni’s.”

Jen stared at him for a long time before replying. “Fine, but this is our project!”

Relieved, John made a mental note to increase her share of the royalties, if they ever happen to get any, she was taking on much more risk than she had anticipated, it was only right.

♦♦♦

John drove his car south towards the outskirts of Arlington city and pulled into a diner. Covering the computers and equipment, they got out of the car and made their way to the tables inside. The place had a deserted look about it. The only patrons, a few trucker types that sat up at the counter eating an assortment of greasy foods while the television blared in the background announcing the latest update to the terrorist bomb attack in Downtown DC. The distracted waitress walked over to their table and announced with her eyes glued to the screen.

“Specials for today are Big Don’s Meat Burger and Spicy Tofu bratwurst for the veggies,” she said with a pleasant voice automatically.

“Veggies?” Jen looked towards John with a frown.

“For vegetarians,” John said.

“I’m certainly not a veggie. I’ll have the Big Don’s Meat.”

The waitress turned and regarded them properly for the first time. Jen, realizing what she had said blushed and amended her order, “The Meat Burger please.”

John stifled a grin. “I’ll have the Don’s Meat Burger too,” then to Jen, “I didn’t realize you are such a connoisseur of our brawn burgers,” John said with a deadpan face. Then to see her blush even more was priceless.

“So smarty pants... What now?” Jen said.

John thought for a minute before responding, “I think a buddy of mine will help us. He has a place in Alexandria, we should be able to hold up there for a bit.”

“How do you know him?”

“We served together in the Army Reserves.”

At that point, John pulled out his notebook and started to scribble a list of items. Jen looked at the list and added suggestions of her own. The two quickly wrote down ten pages in his small notebook, pausing just as the waitress arrived with their order.

“Someone order a hunk?” she said grinning as she placed Jen’s order on the table laughing. Jen just looked at her rolling her eyes with an ‘everyone's a smartass’ look.

While the two tucked into their meal, they interspersed it with brainstorming items for another lab. A picture of an enraged La Perouse yelling at a policeman appeared on television. The story shifted to an image of John and Jen with the caption, ‘Wanted for questioning’. Jens' eyes widened as she nearly choked on her food.

“Better be quick,” John said as he started to wolf down what was left on his plate. Fortunately, nobody took the slightest notice of them.

“I’ll meet you at the car.” He then took off towards the counter to hand over some money.

“Thanks, Keep the change.” John turned about face and headed for the door.

The waitress took her eyes off the TV mentally calculating the tip realizing it was a lot more than normal. She took another look at John exiting out the door then quickly turned her head back to the TV in recognition. Without pausing, she reached under the counter for the phone. Ordinarily, she couldn’t care less about the everyday rough nuts that ate at the diner. But they were saying terrorists and bombs on the TV, which scared the hell out of her, so she dialed.

♦♦♦

John quickly got into the car and drove out of the car park and headed North towards Ronald Reagan Airport.

“I think she recognized us,” he said.

“Damn!”

John tapped the hands-free phone on the dash calling his mate Elvis.

“John is that you?”

“Yes. Hey, buddy, I need to use your pad for a few days is that cool?”

“Yeah, no problem. Hot date huh.”

“Something like that” John replied trying to avoid talking about the explosion.

“Just don’t leave any handcuffs around. I had no end of problems explaining that one to Veronica.”

Both John and Jen chuckled, for entirely different reasons.

“Who’s that with you? You know, you’re on speaker.”

“Elvis, this is Jen.”

“Jen the Hottie?”

John went beet red while Jen just giggled again.

“Hi Elvis,” Jen said, then realized what Elvis would think? John just asked to use his pad.

“Have a GOOD time. I have to go… See you later.” Then hung up.

Jen looked at John appraisingly “Handcuffs... really!” she said with a smirk.

Twenty-five minutes later they pulled into Elvis’s apartment visitor parking.

♦♦♦

The University Administrator and his assistant stepped inside the door then stood aside letting Agent O’Brien and the police officer enter Dr. Stevenson’s lab.

“Oh my God,” said Thurston as they surveyed the devastation. O’Brien just stood there and called in for more support.

“I want an all-points bulletin out on Dr. John Stevenson and Ms. Gale for suspected acts of terrorism. He may be dangerous, so approach with extreme caution.”

♦♦♦

Elvis’s apartment was small but comfortable. Jen settled into the patchwork fabric couch while John checked the kitchen. “I’ll just go out and get some food.” The fridge was bare except for a solitary beer, and last week’s lasagna. Elvis was never good at keeping house, even when he was hooked up with Veronica, who was a chef.

A few minutes later John walked into the local convenience store picking items from the shelves unaware the in-store CCTV cameras tracked his every move. Unbeknownst to him, the new camera system was the latest in neighborhood security. It linked all Supreme Security customers to the local police station for a security check and affordability rating. Although the system had been expensive for the shop owner, the insurance premiums had been worse this year. After three robberies in a row, the premiums would be astronomical next year.

The owner had gone all out and purchased the diamond package. The would-be robber’s image was scanned then sent to the massive data collation center in downtown Washington where they passed it through facial recognition programs and debt credit ratings.

♦♦♦

A bell sounded in the police data collection center alerting of a ‘Person of Interest’ match. The officer pushed his chair to the console to investigate the hit.

‘Terrorists suspect – Dr. Stevenson wanted for questioning regarding Acts of Terrorism Washington D.C.’ floated across the screen.

He placed his donut down on the desk and dialed dispatch giving them the details of the grocer and Dr. Stevenson’s last location, isle three. A red flag was automatically routed to Agent O’Brien’s message drop-box detailing Doctor Stevenson’s pending apprehension.

Opening up the red flag on his phone, an evil grin spread across O’Brien’s face. Grabbing his badge and stuffing his pistol in his back holster, O’Brien pulled on his crinkled suit jacket and headed for the Alexandria police station.

Chapter Six

The U.S. Department of Homeland Security, Washington Office

John sat opposite Agent O’Brien in a pristine police interrogation room.

“I’ll have you in prison by the day’s end. They’ll even throw away the key, you treasonous terrorist prick.” The agent said in his gruff hardened manner.

“That’s right. We’re charging you with terrorism against the United States. Doctor La Perouse was working for the DOD so he can be considered an agent of the United States.”

John just smiled a smile that he did not feel, as he stared back.

O’Brien deliberately paused for effect.

“We retrieved your workbench in the mess of what’s left of Dr. La Perouse’s car.”

O’Brien barely staved off a coughing fit as he took another draw from his cigarette. “Who were you going to sell it to? The Chinese?”

John frowned while Agent O’Brien stubbed the last of his butt against the table top, only to take another cigarette from his pack. Lighting it up he then placed the pack and English lighter on the table. Glancing at the Union Jack on the handle, his face grimaced for just a second before his eyes narrowed, zeroing in on John once again.

“We know it was your bench … the one in the car. The University Administrator has confirmed it. The bench number correlates with the one assign to you in your lab. Oh, wait, your bench has a missing tabletop, from you know… the destroyed lab.”

John merely stared silently at O’Brien’s bloodshot eyes and yellow stained teeth as the agent smiled menacingly, curling his upper lip. “You’ve outdone yourself, two wrecks in one day. Well…?”

John made no response, willing his jaw muscles tight as a spring to show a deadpan face. Beads of sweat started to form on his temples.

“Tell me how you got it there, you know, the bench in the car so quickly?” O’Brien’s face was genuinely curious.

John’s face gave nothing away. “I respectfully request an attorney.”

“Why the hell would you put a bench inside a car? What moronic scheme are you pulling?” O’Brien queried.

The door burst open interrupting the two, as a tall man in a dark blue pressed U.S. Air Force uniform marched into the room. The officer inspected the disheveled O’Brien with a cigarette in hand and equally unpleasant breath, and said, with authority born from years of command, “I’ll be taking it from here.”

O'Brien looked at the clean cut hair and then the silver chevrons on his shoulders. “Colonel this is my suspect. The military will have to wait in line.”

Lt Colonel Dan Prior just looked at the man and his yellow stained teeth. “Agent O’Brien. I’m from the AFSR- Air Force Scientific Research, which is a part of the joint committee on terrorism response. A word if you will.” Dan turned and left without waiting for an answer.

John just watched the spectacle as the DHS Agent left the room angrily.

Through the door, John heard O’Brien’s angry muffled retort “No bleedin way.”

Ten minutes later the Lt Colonel entered the room again and said “Stand. You’re coming with me.”

John had a terrible sinking feeling that being interrogated by O’Brien may have been better.

♦♦♦

Space Command, Peterson Air Force Base

John inspected the well-appointed conference room as Dan sat down. He was immediately drawn to the man’s blue air force jacket where there was a multitude of colored ribbons and a space ship looking emblem below. He watched Dan carefully place pictures of the University and its parking lot on the table.

John was expecting a windowless room with hard metal chairs designed to make the occupant uncomfortable, like the medical examination room for ‘Nurse Ratched’, but not this. Not these plush surroundings. He had seen newspaper articles where officials claimed a terrorist act then suddenly the victim is never seen or heard from again. John’s mind raced forward, and he wondered if there was even going to be a trial in his case?

“You did it, didn’t you?” Was all Dan said, crashing through John’s reverie.

“Did what?”

“You made the sonic weapon,” he replied. “We know it was you and your assistant Miss Jennifer Gale.”

John shuffled in his chair. Sonic weapon, what sonic weapon?

“The good Dr. La Perouse says you stole his design. Is that true?”

John snorted at the ‘good’ and ‘La Perouse’ oxymoron but said nothing still not knowing exactly where this was going. John then realized La Perouse must’ve been working on some sonic weapon. Did the Colonel drag him here about a security breach?

“Doctor La Perouse has made more than one complaint … to Mister Thurston Hughes, the University Administrator. The Administrator has confirmed that deafening noises have been heard coming from your lab.” John recalled been summoned to Thurston’s office over the noise levels. They had quietly struck a deal over a case of nice 25 years old Scotch whiskey. John would keep the noise down, while Thurston would turn a blind eye. Once again John smiled, the sample whiskey had been excellent.

Dan looked at John for a full ten seconds before continuing. “Doctor La Perouse has been working on this project for over three years, and he says he’s on the verge of a breakthrough. Did you steal his research?”

“Asking the same question will not alter the answer. La Perouse is nothing but a self-serving bore, who couldn’t find an idea if it hit him in the face.”

“What about if it blew up his car?” John’s eyes darted to Dan’s unwavering gaze. Shrugging his shoulders, John wasn’t surprised and couldn’t help give a smirk. Dan eyed him carefully then smiled. John’s own smile dropped when he realized the Colonel had confirmed his own suspicions.

“I don’t know what’s gone on between you and Doctor La Perouse, for you to leave a calling card in the blown out shell of his car. Frankly, I don’t care. What I do care about is defending this country with the best weaponry I can lay my hands on.

“John, I know you are a patriot. You were a Captain in the US Army then the US Army Reserves. Despite your links to the Doomsday Preppers. I know you’re loyal to the US.”

“What… what do you mean? Doomsday…?” John said as he straightened up.

“Your association with Mr. Randy ‘Elvis’ Watts. You served with him didn’t you?”

“Yes...?”

“Well then…” John just phased out for a minute, Elvis what are you into.

“… Mister Watts is a senior member of the Preppers. They have built up enough firepower that they have become an organization of interest to the government. They’ve been under surveillance…”

Damn Elvis, John thought, not even listening to the rest of the Colonel’s statement.

The Colonel looked at John quizzically. “Let’s get right to it John. We want that weapon, and we are prepared to drop the terrorism charges if you hand it over.”

“The sonic weapon?” John replied thinking quickly. “You can’t do that… you don’t have any real evidence that it was me, let alone Jen.”

“Come now John... We have enough to put you away for the next century. The good doctor’s statements, your military background, and links to a disreputable paramilitary group. But most importantly an apple!” The Colonel said with a huge grin.

“An apple?”

“An apple from a burnt out wreck of a car with yours and Miss Gales fingerprints on it.”

John stared at the Colonel for a moment. “Alright... I’ll co-operate, but I want some concessions.”

“Like?” the Colonel replied.

“I know the DHS will just patent it so when they get their grubby hands on it, I want the royalties. You get one of your small business associate enterprises to build the weapon, we get 40% of the total royalties.”

“20% and you provide a week’s worth of training in its use,” the Colonel replied.

“I’ll not release the product till all the bugs are ironed out!” John said, which could take a hell of a long time. Enough time that he was sure that he could think of something. Hopefully, before even more shit hit the fan.

The Colonel agreed and smiled, remembering the state of the car and John’s lab from the on scene pictures.

Two hours later after signing hastily prepared contracts, John was escorted to a taxi with his mind floating in disbelief. He had just negotiated to provide a weapon that he had no idea about, let alone how to build! Geez, I am in deep shit!

Making his way up the stairs to Elvis’s apartment, he was confronted with Jen, hands on hips giving a Xenia Warrior Princess look.

“Where have you been, it’s been hours?” There was a scolding tone to her voice, but it was laced with concern in the corners of her eyes.

“Signing my life away,” was John’s only response.

“Where is the food?”

John fell onto the couch too tired to respond.

♦♦♦

John and Jen were bone tired after spending days tidying up the devastated lab before the university re-modelers moved in to fix the benches. There had been numerous interruptions from Dr. La Perouse, which hadn’t been pleasant but more importantly one from the University’s Administrator, Mr. Hughes. He was rightfully annoyed that his lab was a total wreck. Only when offered promises to restore the lab to its original condition and provide the cost of a new coffee machine for the staff room was he placated. Thurston was still unconvinced until John pulled out the clincher, a contract with the US Airforce. John couldn’t help but admire Thurston for his savvy bargaining.

John chortled when he mentioned with a wink the destruction of a motor vehicle on campus, and that John should watch out for any student carrying out dangerous experiments.

The next day John set about ordering replacement lab equipment and one brand new top of the line coffee machine. He had decided to treat the faculty given Thurston’s lenient attitude to the whole matter. He realized it could have been far worse.

Clearing a space on the one remaining bench, John pulled out his laptop.

“So how did we happen to target La Perouse’s car? Let’s go over the calculations once again,” John said to Jen’s groans.

Two hours later after rechecking all the calculations. Jen stood waving her arm and smiling. She flagged John to what she found. I think it has to do with the power control mechanism. The source power was too variable. Once it started, it had a cascade effect on the rest of the calculations. I think we need finer control here and here,” she pointed to the computer model.

John stepped back from the computer screen contemplating the changes Jen was suggesting.

“Well for that sort of control we are going to need some serious power flow controller and conduits. Yes, the controller will even out the power oscillations to target it accurately. Nice work, Miss Gale,” she smiled in response to John’s playful formality.

John added those items to the ever growing shopping list.

Chapter Seven

Randy ‘Elvis’ Watts was sitting on his couch in nothing but his underwear cleaning his .22 caliber assault rifle. He was hopeful to use it this weekend at Sugarloaf Mountain with his friends in the Doomsday Prepper Group called, ‘The Extinction Survivalists'. His now ex-girlfriend had introduced him to the rowdy crowd. He enjoyed the survival challenge offered by the Preppers weekend warrior training after his time in the Army Reserve. It made him feel like he was at least utilizing the skills he had acquired in the Reserves ‘Crunch’ training. It didn’t hurt that after the sessions, they would all congregate at the Hog's Breath on the outskirts of town for some serious liquor debriefing.

All of a sudden the front door to his apartment exploded splintering inwards as a dozen masked troopers with ‘SWAT’ emblazoned on their Kevlar jackets charged into the room shouting. Elvis's mouth gaped open as he sat frozen to the couch. Their disciplined demeanor was incredibly effective as they brandished wicked looking assault rifles and sub machine guns. The first two officers yelled out “Gun! Gun!” in unison.

“Put the weapon down! On your knees face down! Now!” The officers yelled.

Despite his training, all Elvis could do was sit watching the procession dumbfounded. Then as if struck, he realized his predicament and didn’t need to be told twice to get on the floor. The smaller officer held Elvis down with a swift knee to the back. She tied his hands with a cable tie as another kicked Elvis’s gun out of reach while targeting Elvis with his own.

Amidst all the drama, the Agent O’Brien walked into the apartment brandishing a glock pistol unchallenged. He was quietly pleased with himself that he had managed to bludgeon his way onto the first response SWAT team for this operation. If he couldn’t have Dr. Stevenson, then he would have to settle for the next best thing. Mr. Elvis Bloody Watts.

“Planning a little war are we Mr. Watts?” O’Brien said with barely concealed contempt.

♦♦♦

It had been several days of hard work in the lab once the all the remodeling had finished. Jen was holding up well after all the stresses of the previous week, so John put her to work refining the power control for the targeting while he worked on making the fields bigger. John and Jen rebuilt their prototype transporter with the improved power control systems.

“I think we are getting close to testing again,” John declared.

“So shall we try for La Perouse’s new car?” said Jen laughing.

The rotund La Perouse had cajoled the insurance company into giving him a replacement car, while they sorted through the meaning of, ‘An act of God’ in relation to self-exploding vehicles. True to his word, O’Brien refused to write any report for the insurance.

John smiled back with a mischievous grin.

“As much as it would give me the greatest of pleasures, I don’t think our DHS friend will see it the same way. Let’s find a large open space to test this,” John said.

He then picked up his mobile and dialed his buddy Elvis to see if he was up for a trip to the desert. John frowned putting the phone down after he’d had no response. It wasn’t like Elvis to ignore him. He had called a dozen times over the past week with no response. John was starting to get worried given all the government agencies floating around.

“OK. Are you ready for a trip to Texas? I was thinking of the Trans-Pecos in the Chihuahua Desert. It’s quite beautiful but more importantly sparsely populated.”

“Oh, goody. I haven’t seen much of the states yet,” Jen replied.

The following day John hired a truck to carry all the equipment with enough room in the front cab to comfortably seat three people. It was going to be a long 2 to 3-day trip just to get there. They spent the rest of the day loading the truck with the equipment and a few small personal items.

Early the next morning the two in the hire truck headed out of the University grounds and took to the streets, turning southeastward they made their way through central Washington towards Arlington and then southbound to Alexandria.

“I just want to pop in to see Elvis.”

“No problem,” replied Jen, “you still haven’t heard from him?”

“No,” John replied, worried.

They drove in silence through the streets each in their own thoughts till they pulled up outside Elvis’s apartment. Climbing the two levels to his front door, John cried out, “What the…?”

Across the remnants of his friend’s front door was yellow, ‘Do Not Cross’ tape. The jagged zigzag pattern of tape screamed out ‘crime scene’. What was left of the door lay splintered in pieces on the floor begging any crook to come in. John ran to the tape and yanked it away in one swift motion, “Elvis?”

The two strode into the lounge room where they found the place a shamble. Overturned chairs and books lay strewn all over the floor, while cupboards and drawers hung open in a haphazard way with clothes scattered all around. An old photo album lay open on the kitchen bench with some blank spaces where pictures had been removed. John turned some pages only to set his focus on a snap of him and Elvis in Army fatigues attempting to piece together a tent without a clue. His brief smile was replaced by a determined grimace.

John started rifling through his wallet for the card the Air Force Colonel had given him.

“Dr. Stevenson, what can I do for you?”

“Colonel, I agreed to help you, and now I find my friend’s missing, no doubt taken for interrogation. This treatment won’t get the sonic dauber wacky any faster,” said John angrily.

“Dr. Stevenson... What are you talking about?” Dan replied in a controlled fashion.

“I’m talking about you taking my friend Elvis!” John countered.

“Despite what you might think of me Doctor, the Science and Technology arm of the U.S. Air Force doesn’t have a habit of kidnapping US citizens.”

“He’s missing. His place has been destroyed. It’s taped up with that official yellow boundary tape.”

“You mean the ones used by the police or DHS?” Dan responded.

“DHS... Damn!” not those bastards again. Dan couldn’t fail to hear the anxious tone in John’s voice.

“I’ll see what I can do. No promises.”

“Thank you, Colonel.”

As John hung up, guilt and trepidation hung over him. Not only did he feel sorry for his friend, but the deception against the Colonel with this imaginary sonic weapon was playing on his mind.

Turning to Jen, who stood in the kitchen looking through the photo album and said, “Can you call a local handyman to get this fixed,” as he pointed to the broken door. “We can’t leave it like this. I need to make a few more calls to my favorite DHS agent.”

Twenty minutes later Jen had a carpenter and a new front door delivery organized for the afternoon. Meanwhile, John had little luck tracking down Agent O’Brien let alone his friend Elvis. All of a sudden his mobile rang. “Colonel...?” answered John.

“Doctor, the DHS anti-terrorism group, has your friend in lockup while they investigate the car bombing.”

“But you and I both know it’s no terrorist act. Right!”

“It will take a while to convince them of that, because of his links to ‘The Extinction Survivalists’.”

“What... You’re kidding me! The yahoos he goes camping with each month?”

“Well, they’re a little more than that. They’re classified as a paramilitary group.”

John was struck speechless for a minute.

“Well, I need him out because he’s my consultant engineer,” John said making it up. He knew Elvis had an engineering background.

“I see...” was all Dan said.

“We are currently on our way to Texas to test the equipment, and we need him,” John said as an enticer.

“What sort of tests? Maybe I should come along,” said Dan.

“No. It’s not ready yet.” John countered quickly as his guilt deepened with the deception. He couldn’t allow his buddy to be treated like a terrorist because of his experiments.

After an awkward silence, Dan said, “Very well. Where in Texas?”

“El Paso. We are heading to the desert.”

“Just don’t blow up anything that could be difficult to explain. I’ll send your engineering support as soon as he’s released.”

“Thank you, Colonel, I appreciate it,” John said as he hung up the phone.

Dan couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. He knew that there was a military base just outside of El Paso and, if needs be, he could call on them to intervene.

♦♦♦

John and Jen hung around Elvis’s apartment until the new door was replaced then headed West, Far West to El Paso, Texas.

Elvis was surprised to be released from lock-up by an Air Force Colonel. He was happy to see the back of the grumpy old DHS agent O’Brien. He even smiled at O’Brien’s profanities when he was forced to release him. Although, he was annoyed with John for embroiling him in some fantasy terrorist plot he was smart enough to keep his mouth shut at the sketchy story that he consulted for John on his experiments. His friend was always a little secretive regarding his work, so to find out that he was working on weapons, made him reevaluate his long-time friend. He had thought John was a relative pacifist. Even after his stint in the army reserves. He always knew John had a strong sense of patriotism, but something more than that, the ability to sacrifice anything for a specific goal was a useful skill in the army.

Despite all the danger and the real threats, he had gone through, Elvis got a small kick out of mixing with true professionals. The S.W.A.T. team had the cool kit. The up close and personal experience was an eye-opener on their tactics and, in a strange way, Elvis had enjoyed every minute of it. Especially the young SWAT woman who kneed him in the back.

♦♦♦

O’Brien was furious. Twice now the Air Force had swooped in and taken his collars. He had thought the kindergarten soldier boy, ‘Elvis’, was in the bag with his links to Dr. Stevenson. He even had a of the two with army weaponry in a photo. Then there were his regular training sessions with the paramilitary group ‘The Extinction Survivalists’.

“Elvis” was nothing but ‘an offense’ on two legs, in O’Brien’s eyes. Even his name was offensive. The tinker toy soldier offended the name of his one and only true music icon. He scowled to himself. He wouldn’t be able to listen to his favorite Elvis songs without thinking of the smarmy little sod.

O’Brien could only sit and watch the young Air Force Colonel walk the prisoner out of his grasp. Grinding his teeth, he turned back to his computer console, cigarette in hand and attempted to write a report explaining to his bosses the wasted resources used to capture and detain his latest suspect.

♦♦♦

When Elvis finally returned home, he found himself in front of a new door. There was a note taped to the eyehole with his name on it.

“Elvis, Pal, Buddy, Mate, …” The letter started. “Mate!” he thought. He’s obviously been hanging around that Aussie girl too much. Maybe Aussies had a different definition of a ‘Mate’.

Elvis read on only to discover the two had left DC on a road trip to Texas, of all places. John was urging him to come out to El Paso. He understood the need to keep this charade up, but he also had a few strong words he wanted to tell John in return.

Chapter Eight

John and Jen pulled into a small Motel parking lot on the outskirts of El Paso. The heat washed over the expanse of hot asphalt warping the horizon in a heat haze. The motel air-conditioning would be a relief from the boiling cabin of the truck. John would be having words with the hire company since the air-con broke down at the Texas state border. The two pushed through the purple painted door, to reception and a quaint little office. Fake cedar paneling and tacky white plastic clocks adorned the back wall. The clocks were set to the differing time zones across the world as if it suggested something of the hotel’s clientele. John smiled at the young dark-haired Hispanic receptionist and booked two rooms with extra towels.

Later that afternoon when the heat had lost its sting, John ducked out to the local real estate agent. He had spotted a property on the net and was intent on seeing if it suited his purposes.

Pointing to the ad in the window, ‘New Listing of the “TEXAS Ranch” big enough to get lost on your own property’

“Is that true?” John asked the real estate agent. The picture certainly seems to suggest it. A desert landscape where the property straddled a secluded dead-end valley with surrounding countryside. It was a huge 6500 acres. There were no neighbors in sight. There would be no stray BMWs here. Nestled in the center between a couple of squat mounds was a small farm cottage made of roughly hewn stone and corrugated iron. Rust colored dirt-clotted over the walls hiding its profile. A large work shed with late last century metalworking tools and machinery were scattered gathering rust. The land was perfect. The only sticking point was the price tag. Just on 2.5 million.

In the same desert landscape backing onto the Texas Ranch was a smaller land parcel split off from the original ranch and for sale for a fraction of the larger block.

John had never been too caught up with money. He saw it as a tool to be used to create choices. Jen was surprised when John returned with the receipt for a deposit on the purchase of the smaller block from the realtor. He arranged to meet him the following morning to finalize the sale.

Martinez Mendez, the only real-estate agent this side of the border, couldn’t believe his luck. That was the quickest sale he had ever made. Although there was a mountain of paperwork he had to do before tomorrow, he knew the quick sale of the gatehouse block lead to the prospect of selling the “Texas Ranch”. He would celebrate tonight.

♦♦♦

John and Jen kicked at the small dirt clods while standing in front of the rundown newly purchased boarded-up gatehouse cottage.

“You have to be kidding! I’m not spending the night in that. Who knows how many redback spiders are around!” Jen said indignantly.

“We don’t have redbacks in the States; however, we do have lots of scorpions,” John replied.

Jen just looked back with a withering look. “There’s no way in hell.”

A loud mechanical roar cut through the slight desert wind. Dust billowed and split along the access road as a sleek black sports Ducati 750cc motorbike pulled in and stopped next to the two, bringing with it a small cloud. The short athletic rider dismounted and took his helmet off revealing a grim-faced balding man. Several faded tattoos adorned his arms as he took off his leather jacket and gloves revealing a sweaty sleeveless camo tank top. Despite the heat, Elvis wasn’t going to ride his bike without leather protection.

“Elvis!” John called out.

“Geez John, I thought they were going to put me in front of a firing squad!”

“Yeah, sorry. I hadn’t expected that.”

“I knew you were a scientist, but I thought you were a pacifist. I didn’t know you went for developing weapons.”

“What!! What weapons?” Jen exclaimed as she eyed John.

Elvis turned and focused on Jen. She was his height with mousy brown hair. Some dark sunglasses hid her small delicate features. The loose fitting top couldn’t conceal her trim body with a faded suntan. The woman standing there was not the woman that John had described when he said, scientist.

“You must be Jen, the Aussie.”

“You must be the infamous Elvis,” Jen replied. Then she said to John. “What weapons?”

John looked decidedly uncomfortable and a little sheepish. He then recounted the story of his meeting with the Air Force Colonel and subsequent deal to produce a sonic weapon for their release.

By the end of it, both Jen and Elvis were so incredulous they both started giggling then wound up splitting their sides laughing.

“So we have to build this sonic thingy we have no idea how to make!” Jen said.

John just nodded.

“Geez, John! It’s a wonder why I like hanging out with you. Not a dull moment!” Elvis remarked which started another fit of laughter.

“So what’s the real experiment if it’s not the sonic weapons,” Elvis said with a snicker.

John looked at Jen and took a breath and launched into a rehearsed speech. He had decided to include Elvis in the inner circle of patent holders, especially after what he had just been put through.

“So this thing-a-me does, what?”

Jen cut in, “It’s like Star Trek and beam-me-up, Scotty.”

Elvis looked back and forth between the two, “Damn, are you kidding me... You’ve developed a transporter?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to be part of this. I need someone with engineering skills to translate my rough-edged scientific based designs into something that works solidly. There is no upfront money; there is no guarantee that it will make any money at all. Are you in?”

“Are you serious? You’re offering me a share in this discovery?” Elvis knew that John was generous but given this device, any share even a small share, would turn into millions. “Guess?”

John smiled at his long-time friend, then proceeded to say, “I need you to first work on stabilizing the power flow regulation…”

All John could see was Elvis’s grin, from ear to ear.

♦♦♦

The following morning the three made their way from the hotel to gather in the far corner of the local diner for breakfast. The brainstorming session was fast becoming a regular feature of their day. The three of them discussed improvements and applications that the transporter could be put to. The relaxed, casual atmosphere made the days turn into a blur. The three were almost in a dream state enjoying each other’s company and the challenges that the project brought up…

“The more I think about all the possibilities for this technology, the more scared I get.” The others turned to stare at John, waiting for him to elaborate. “What if someone was to use this for evil purposes… Say transport someone into the sun. Or worse bring the sun here to Earth, it would be devastating, an immediate extinction event. There are so many ways that this can be used to cause cataclysmic destruction. Nuclear weapons are children’s toys compared to this.” Elvis and Jen became reticent. Jen bit her bottom lip while Elvis just stared at John unblinking.

“Maybe we shouldn’t develop this technology?” Jen said out loud.

John knew this was decision time. He couldn’t take his eyes off Jen and her seemingly innocent question.

Behind Jen the television on the wall switch to its favorite news storyline of late, aliens.

“We need to develop this technology. Even if we put strict controls on its deployment and implementation. However, we can’t let this technology get into the wrong hands, … but we definitely have to develop the technology.”

“I don’t want it to be another Oppenheimer’s atom bomb,” declared Jen.

The three sat there staring at each other.

John whispered, “A lot of good came out of Oppenheimer’s experiments. Can we afford not to develop this technology? We can’t patent this technology or even have records of how it works once it's refined if we go ahead.”

Elvis then said, “I think you’re kidding yourself if you think that the secret won’t get out.”

“I don’t believe we have a choice. If we don’t, someone else will, and I’d rather set up the best controls we can from the beginning. There will be no direct royalties whatsoever from this project.”

Elvis blew out the breath that he was holding then spoke, “So, you’re saying if we don’t develop this technology. Obviously, we won’t get any money, and if we do develop the technology we still won’t get any money cause it’s too dangerous to patent it.

“Well hell John, if we had the first transporter we could make millions just doing stuff with it… like contracting to dispose of nuclear waste from power stations. We could transport it into the sun.”

“Or we could clean out all the gold from Fort Knox,” Jen said giggling, while Elvis smiled and John frowned.

This was crunch time; will they still stay with the project given that there were no direct, immediate monetary returns in sight?

“This technology is too powerful to leave under-utilized. I do think we can use this technology as a stepping stone to other things.” It was John’s final bid to convince Jen and Elvis.

Jen stared directly into John’s eyes and delivered her ultimatum, “I want your promise that we will destroy it if we can’t develop reasonable controls to keep the technology out of the wrong hands.”

Phew, she’s still onboard for now, John thought. “You have my promise we’ll put as much protection in as we need,” John said to reassure her. “Elvis?” John said staring at Elvis waiting for his answer.

Elvis nodded without hesitation.

Jen smiled briefly.

“So a teleporter auto-destruct?” Elvis blurted out. “Excellent, I get to play with explosives.” John and Jen just looked at Elvis with concern.

Elvis, seeing what was written on their faces, laughed aloud turning the waitress’ head to scold the three for disturbing the peace.

“Elvis can you also look into how technology can be safeguarded physically from being reverse engineered,”

John turned to Jen, “Jen, can you look into ways to use the teleporter to get itself out of trouble. For example, if there is tampering, the machine activates and teleports itself into the sun or back to base.”

Jen didn’t look wholly convinced that developing the technology was the right thing to do. However, she nodded ever so slightly.

The discussion then moved off the security issues and onto setting up the gatehouse property to transform it into a research base. John had spotted labs that were built inside cargo container so as to make them transportable.

“I found a company that converts containers into reinforced labs. I already rented a couple of labs and a housing unit. Once the converted cargo containers arrive, we can dedicate the different experiments in each container.”

“Containers? Why transport containers?” Asked Jen.

“They’re steel and reinforced. They’ll protect us from explosions.”

Both Jen and Elvis stared at John. “You’re serious are you?” Elvis said.

“I think he is,” said Jen. “Did you see the car?” she directed at Elvis.

“I thought that those pics were some interrogation tactic. That was real?”

Neither Jen nor John said a word while they thought about it. Both knew the metal was not going to stop a materialization, the BMW was metal.

“Shit John. You don’t do half measures do you?” Elvis said with a tinge of unease.

“Anyway, they are easy to transport if we have to move in a hurry. Besides, we won’t always be in the cottage block here.”

♦♦♦

Four days later they were directing the delivery trucks, which arrived with their containers.

John thought they were fantastic.

A week later the group had all the equipment set up in each of the containers and one for a temporary living unit. Jen still wasn’t convinced to stay out near scorpions. She never stayed overnight in the makeshift accommodations. She stated one day that three stars were her absolute minimum. The only thing missing were the utilities and transport of the quantum computer. It was John's biggest concern as it was a delicate piece of equipment that required fragile handling and constant temperature control.

♦♦♦

Testing at the makeshift research base started in earnest. Loud cracks could be heard echoing up and down the countryside. Fortunately, no one but old man Sykes was there to hear it. Even then, the man’s hearing aid was usually turned off as he didn't want to waste the battery. By the end of the week, they were able to teleport items all over the small block. There had been two tests with explosive results. Elvis thanked John’s foresight for including the reinforced cargo container to protect the three. Although each test took several hours to set up, they were making slow but steady progress.

On the twelfth day, an old man approached the makeshift camp with a dog barking in a cage held at arms-length. The man was unshaven with a mean look and wore a permanent ingrain scowl. His clothes reflected his demeanor; ragged, harsh and crinkled. The man walked to the center of the camp and dumped the cage on the ground. The caged dog growled at the old man’s cruel treatment.

In a rough voice, he said, “Please keep your pets on your property.”

Jen, who was incensed cut in, “That’s not our dog, you can take it back.” Her voice ended in a crescendo.

“Well, this tag says it’s yours.” The old man looked down at the label and started reading, ‘Urgent delivery to The Ranch Gatehouse’. That rusty bucket is the gate house,” the man said pointing to the small dilapidated building.

Jen was about to rebut the man when John stepped up and took the animal.

Elvis jumped in, “Geez, John.”

Jen added, “Nooo, you can't be serious! We’re not ready for that!”

The scowling man just stood there with a raised eyebrow. What a strange bunch, he thought. The tension was palpable between the three over the rascal dog. The old man had very few vices left in life after his doctor had tried to blackball his smoking and drinking. He never listened, he usually ended up grimacing to himself when he left the surgery. One thing he did love was soap opera TV and late-night shows. The tension between the neighbors had stirred his interest. The three of them out here in the middle of nowhere with transport containers storing God knows what. That was unusual, to say the least. Like a child with candy, each new revelation thrilled the old man no end. His head turned, switching his attention from one to the other like a tennis match.

“We have to, eventually,” was all John said.

Jen stormed off while Elvis just stared at John not knowing what to say.

John realized the old man was still there watching the whole drama unfold. So he thanked him and escorted him to the front gate.

The man reluctantly left, still curious as to what was really going on.

The following day, Jen refused to talk to John all through breakfast, because of their disagreed over the dog. He was, however, not deterred by her petty, childish silent treatment that was distasteful and juvenile.

When they returned to the research base, John gave the dog treats while petting it. Eventually, he placed it on the launch-pad commanding it to ‘sit’. The dog followed John’s orders and received another biscuit for his obedience.

Jen and Elvis although sullen, reluctantly took their stations to prepare for the live subject test. All their previous tests to this point had been with inanimate objects and some small insects. Some objects had admittedly been quasi-alive, such as fruit. The results were still remarkable; the cellular structure remained unchanged. The transport or jump process seemed to create a bubble where everything within the sphere was taken from one place to another. Jen finally indicated that her calculations were all complete. Elvis flagged he was also all set to go.

All John said was “Make this count.”

The generator started at a low buzz as the power built up in the capacitors.

“How’s the power flow regulator settings, is it working at the higher output?” Jen nodded at John then at the dog, her eyes starting to tear up. The dog sat on its haunches in the center of the platform, dead still. Then, as if it knew something momentous was about to happen, it jumped to its feet and paced back and forth on the launch-pad. The high tension between the four was palpable, reaching a breaking point. Jen was shaking as her hand hovered over the execute button. She took one last pleading look at John, standing there like a granite statue, impervious to her silent appeal. Jen had always loved animals, in most cases, more than people. Their immutable trust-filled holes in her hidden hurt from broken relationships.

They had done so many tests, Jen rationalized. She knew that she was desperately trying to reassure herself. She wasn’t a religious person per se; however, this was one time in her life that she thought that she could call on the God Almighty to hear her plea. ‘God, please let this work’.

At the last minute, Elvis raced over to the dog and gave it one last pat rubbing its head and ears. Smiling and saying, “Good boy.” The dog seemed to settle a little sitting on its haunches observing the three.

John hated himself at that point. He knew the test had to be done but, why this dog! Knowing deep down, it didn’t matter which dog it was. He would feel the same with any. The best he could do was to make sure the process ran as smoothly as possible.

The generator finally reached a fever pitch, then Jen pushed the button; a loud cracking sound split the air, and the dog disappeared only to reappear twenty feet away on an identical platform.

An audible gasp broke the silent aftermath of the transport. The old man from next door had snuck back onto the property. His body was half concealed while bending the branches so he could view the anticipated continuation of the previous day’s confrontation. He had had little to amuse himself lately since they had taken Jerry Springer off the TV.

The dog yelped after being momentarily stunned from the transport. It jumped up high in the air to land back onto the platform with its legs splayed for balance. It quickly looked back and forth at each of the curious humans standing there.

Elvis ran over to the platform grabbing the mutt’s head shaking it playfully. It yapped while he scratched it behind the ears. The dog shook off its confusion enjoying the attention Elvis was lavishing on it.

“I think I’ll call you Scotty,” Elvis said with a rueful smile. Relief and smiles mirrored all around when the bushes suddenly parted as the old man ran out covered in dirt and twigs.

“That was damn brilliant! Nothing like what we went through in the war, but damn brilliant,” the old man shrieked in barely concealed excitement.

“What the hell are you doing here?” John challenged.

“I was concerned about, the animal,” the old man said, blustering.

“Well, you can see its fine. Now leave! You’re on private property!” John said. Once again he directed the old man off the block.

When he returned the three of them sat down together to discuss what to do about it. The old man was a grave security risk.

Chapter Nine

We are not alone…

“It’s Official,” the television announcer was saying. “There are little green men in outer space. The Ferntree Observatory Director has confirmed what the UFO enthusiasts have been saying all along. The astronomical community can now say without a doubt, that there were nuclear explosions in outer space that cannot be natural. They are even going as far as to speculate that a blast like that is either a very good or a very bad thing. In other words, a massive accident, like some alien forgot to turn off the gas after cooking their breakfast or some aliens are holding a very large nuclear grudge party to which we hope we are NOT invited.”

The announcer then took a more serious tone.

“There has been a mixed response from the White House. One official has been heard to say, ‘It’s only a matter of time before they are forced to reinstate the defunct Space Shuttle program’. We have been advised that there is no official comment from the President’s Office and that he’s in a meeting with the Joint Chiefs. We can only imagine what, if anything, will be their response.”

♦♦♦

Space Command, Peterson Air Force Base

Ever since the discovery of aliens in outer space, Lt Colonel Prior had been inundated with requests for information on the state of the US’s space-based defense capability. The requests although not always answered came from various government officials and the military high command. The most disconcerting were the ones from the President's office.

“Colonel, tell me we have something that we can use against space-based attack?”

The President listened to Dan’s response. Then replied, “So, correct me if I’m wrong, we are woefully unprepared for an attack from outer space. We have X37 space drones about one-tenth the size of the shuttle, launched from a rocket. These drones barely reach orbit.”

“Yes, sir.”

The President continued, “We have ICBMs that can be modified to eliminate or redirect smaller meteors on a ballistic course towards Earth. But to attack a moving combat ready spaceship, we have nothing.”

“Sir, we have a laser targeting system that you’re aware of, commonly known as the Star Wars system. We can re-task it to face outwardly. The ICBMs that we have can be modified to fly in outer space. However, they would only be able to fly on a ballistic trajectory at this point. We are working on changing that. As you're aware, the space shuttle provided a platform to send a large payload into orbit. The program is now defunct unless funds are directed to reinstate it. We currently use Ultra 5 rockets to deploy the payloads.

“Some other space faring nations have programs. The Chinese have gone ahead in leaps and bounds. We believe they have anti-satellite stealth technology that may be able to be used; however, that is still unconfirmed. The Europeans are working on their smaller space shuttle and are likely to be complete within a few years. Right now, they have about as much reach as us. Lastly, some private enterprises have a space-based capability. You may recall Virgin Airlines now have a space arm. There is another private group in the European Union that is close to completing another commercial space plane design. Each of those private enterprises has faced their own difficulties of exploding ships and fuel tanks. Finally, there is Space X that services the IIS.”

“Can we turn the International Space Station into a weapons platform?” The President asked.

“It may be possible sir; however, even the slightest thing shot at it would destroy it. It has no shielding, no armor. It would be like standing in front of a cannon with a pea shooter. I think it would be insulting to them… The aliens I mean.”

The President chuckled despite the grave nature of the discussion.

“Okay, well I’m going to approve this rail gun technology research. They tell me it may be possible to shoot something with enough power to exit Earth’s gravity. Given that people won’t be on board, it seems plausible. We will also fund more on the X37 project to make them combat ready. I would, however, like your recommendations for further weapons development.”

Chapter Ten

Would you like pancakes with that?

“There is nothing we can do about it,” John was saying to Jen and Elvis at their morning breakfast meeting. The intrusion of the old man had turned John right off his food. Even the diner’s usual ‘Big Lucky’ all you can eat breakfast didn’t sway him. Elvis was, on the other hand, still tucking into the three sausages, two eggs, and three hash browns laced with pancakes and syrup.

“Can we pay him to keep quiet?” Jen countered.

“I don’t think so. He doesn’t strike me as the sort that would honor it, besides that riles me in principle.”

John and Jen just looked at each other as Elvis munched on his slowly disappearing breakfast. Then Elvis’s eyes were drawn to the television on the wall above the counter. Once again the Observatory director was going through the results of the TACSA scans and the recordings of the nuclear flashes.

Elvis spoke up, “That guy loves all this limelight. Pity he knows squat about what actually happened.”

John stared at the television with a phased-out look. Elvis smiled to Jen as he nodded in John’s direction with his eyes in a ‘bugged out’ look. Jen followed his lead crossing her eyes also just as the waitress came to the table. Elvis laughed out loud as Jen’s face turned beet red. John then looked at the two with a frown, which made both the waitress and Elvis laugh even harder as Jen turned crimson with embarrassment.

They all returned to their meals as Elvis thought on what he suspected John was thinking. They had been friends long enough for him to have a pretty good guess. Shortly, the sound of crunching bacon was drowned out by another story on alien sightings.

♦♦♦

John sat in silence alone, staring at the fat brown envelope on the cottage kitchen table. His mind churned with the knowledge that his father still lived, even though he received an email from him several weeks ago. Maybe it was subconscious wishful thinking.

“What’s that?” Elvis said as he strolled in to top up his coffee.

“It’s nothing. Just a useless gesture,” John said scooping up the packet and walked out of the room.

Elvis’ eyes trailed him out of the kitchen as Jen walked in.

“Hey,” Jen said.

Elvis just stared at the exit where John left not saying a word.

“What’s going on?”

Elvis just shrugged shaking his head.

♦♦♦

Back at the makeshift laboratories, John and the other two sat around the kitchen table discussing the testing protocols to make the teleportation experience safer. Teleporting of Scotty the dog had been an incredible milestone in the development of the machine. Since then they had witnessed no discernible change to the dog after its dematerialization and rematerialization. They had, much to Jen's disgust, teleported Scotty over a dozen more times. The dog had taken it on as a game. They would teleport him 20 to 50 meters away to which he would then race back to the group yapping with delight.

“No, no, the best way would be to have a box or a barrier to stop something from hitting you after you teleport. You don’t want to teleport in the middle of something and have it instantly crush you or run into you,” John said.

“So, we need protection from the elements and physical objects. Maybe something like a small airplane in case you end up in the air. Something that can glide,” Elvis replied

“How fast can we reset the transporter? If we can set it quickly enough, we won’t need to fly, we just need to transport to the ground,” Jen put in.

“Or we just use two,” John said, “and we’ll have a backup then.” He was a big believer in redundancy. The ‘just-in-case’ ran strong in his veins.

It became apparent to the three that teleporting an individual was entirely possible but very dangerous unless they were protected by some sort of craft. No one wanted to be accidentally teleported into space without a suit.

Elvis then said, “We need to get a computer guru onto the team to develop the procedure to auto target reset.” After thinking a bit, John realized that any automation required computer technology. Elvis was right; they would need a tech specialist.

“I’ll contact the University Administrator, he may know of someone,” John scribbled in his notepad.

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