Timeshadow 04

Story Info
What Is, and What Should Never Be.
3.1k words
9k
5
4

Part 4 of the 5 part series

Updated 06/07/2023
Created 01/25/2016
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

She woke up in deepest night bathed in sweat, looked over at the man sleeping next to her and wondered who he was, then it all came back in a rush...

She was in a small adobe lodge next to the old mission, the Alamo, and that 'rich' smelling man was Davey Crockett – but...something was wrong. Something had changed. She ran her hands over her thighs and belly, then...

...she sat up and looked around the room, just as a sharp blade of nausea passed through her like a scythe. A lone candle flickered on the one small table in the room, and she could just make out bare mud walls with a single crucifix hanging above the entry. She saw a small scorpion crawling up the wall above her head and sat up quickly, then, what?

Do I feel light-headed? No, I feel ill, or something like ill, because...what was that?...the room just faded from view! But...

Thoughts came out of the darkness in a rush now, disjointed fragments of images – like dreams out of sequence – filling her mind with chaos...then the room brightened and quickly came back into focus...

"Something's not right," she said as she quickly laced up her boots and ran outside. She looked around, spied a low wall nearby and sprinted to it, then jumped up and started scanning the horizon.

"It's over there," she heard Higgins say, and she turned towards his voice, followed his eyes to the south.

"Oh, God no," McKaig said, her heart now filled with dread. She couldn't tell how big the blue sphere was, or even how far away it might be, but her first impression was that it was huge, and not more than ten miles away.

"Interesting," Higgins said, looking at his wristwatch. He punched a button on the watch, then lit the display, and McKaig could see the blue glow from where she stood. "Two-oh-five degrees. I make it 15 miles. What's your guess?"

"Ten, I think." McKaig looked around, but couldn't see any other people asleep in the courtyard.

"One of us needs to tell Aronson," he said.

"What woke you?" McKaig said, still unsure what she'd just experienced.

"Nothing. I've been talking with Bowie all night. I gave him an A-pak and a Z-pak, and a shot of Vita-stim in the thigh. Big mistake. He didn't stop talking for five hours, then it was like: bang! The lights went out and that's all folks."

"Interesting conversation, I take it."

"Yeah, you could say that. Uh...how was Mr Crockett," he said, grinning.

"He, uh, has big feet." She was glad it was dark out; no way could he see her blushing...

"Ah. Feeling a little stretched, are we?"

"Man alive. Felt like a Roto-rotter attached to a jack-hammer..."

"Shoulda popped him with a Vita-stim. That woulda been fun to listen to from out here..."

"You have a sick mind, Higgins."

"Say it ain't so, darlin'. Well, just so you know, there're a shitload of snakes out here. Rattlers and copperheads mostly, so if you see something that looks like a large twig on the ground, make sure it doesn't move before you step on it."

"I hate snakes," McKaig said...

"Who doesn't?" she heard Crockett say. "Rattlers taste good, but them copperheads taste like dog shit. What're y'all doin' up so early, anyway?"

"Hey," McKaig said, surprised how happy she felt when she saw him. "Did we wake you?"

"No," he said as he walked over to a tree and started peeing. "Little too much bourbon last night, I think. So, what got you two up?"

She looked at Higgins – who looked away, grinning. "Something didn't feel right," she said at last.

"You too? I felt like I was going to get sick, opened my eyes and everything was black...like I was looking through haze..."

"Me too," Higgins said, startled. "About ten minutes ago...everything went black..."

"Aronson," McKaig said. "Gotta tell her..." she said as she bolted from the courtyard.

"Snakes!" Higgins called out, reminding her. "Watch out for the goddamn snakes!"

+++++

Todd Parks sat at his computer, Galileo on one side, June sitting very close on the other; he had a planetarium program open and Parks was slowly, methodically explaining the origins of the solar system, June making the translations she could. When Parks ran into concepts June just couldn't translate he tried Latin, but that language's basic vocabulary simply wasn't geared to 21st century cosmological discoveries, so when he ran into those items he tried visual demonstrations on screen, followed with mathematical explorations to clarify key concepts. He noticed after a while that while Galileo was intuitively intelligent, and his basic math skills were solid, he broke down when calculus was invoked – and Parks had to backtrack and fill in the holes with sketches.

They came to a discussion of the sun, and he backtracked to the spectral characteristics of stars, all stars – including "our" star – and how electromagnetic radiation was first analyzed by using prisms. He pulled up the Hertzsprung-Russell diagram and went over the spectral classification of stars, then over the basics of the Morgan-Keenan temperature classification system, and somewhere in this discussion a video screen popped up and began playing.

Parks was annoyed when this happened because it was an un-commanded execution, and when he tried to shut the video player down – and nothing happened.

Then his "Death Star" video started playing, and Galileo asked what they were watching...

The object moved towards the Sun then – and again, with no command from Parks – the playback speed slowed to a crawl, and Parks gasped when he saw the black shadow behind the brilliant white orbiter for the very first time.

"What is this?" June translated almost as fast as Galileo spoke, but Parks simply held up one finger while he studied the on-screen image.

"It's not a screen artifact," he said to himself, though he was unaware he was speaking aloud, then he pointed at the screen, at the "Death Star". "Now, what the devil is this?" It looked like the outer hull of the orbiter was shedding material... "Ice? Could it be ice boiling off as the hull superheats?"

Then Galileo pointed at the screen, and June began translating: "This black object has mass," she said. "See how the white matter flows into the black sphere? It is almost like it's being drawn to the blackness. It has mass...and gravity...?"

"A singularity?" Parks muttered. No, he saw the white matter fall away after contact... So, the black object had mass, it had velocity, and it appeared to be following the orbiter.

"But what are these things?" Galileo asked, and Parks sat back and looked at the screen one more time, then at Galileo.

"They are ships, my friend. Ships that travel between the stars."

"Who pilots these ships," the old man said, his voice trembling, and Parks could hear the fear in June's voice as she translated. "Are they human? From Earth?"

He looked June, then at Galileo and shook his head.

The old man looked at the little girl and understood, then he crossed himself – something he hadn't done privately in years – then he stood and walked unsteadily from the table.

+++++

"I don't like it," Aronson said. "It's just too big a coincidence to have happened right now."

"We still have two days before Santa Anna's army is due to arrive, don't we? So, why now?"

"Why not?" Aronson said.

"Because something's changed. Somewhere, somehow..."

"Or some time."

"That would mean..."

"You saw the sphere go all the way down to the ground?" Aronson asked.

"Yes, Lieutenant," McKaig said. "Both Higgins and I saw it go below the tree line, ten, maybe fifteen miles away, almost due south, maybe around 205 degrees."

"Okay. Wake everyone up, and I want to preflight two birds – mine and Higgins'." McKaig saluted and ran back to the campsite; Aronson went to Beagle one and opened the canopy, climbed up into the cockpit. She woke up the batteries and powered up bus two, then she powered up the ECM system and looked at each the threat receivers... "Nothing," she said aloud, as if to reassure herself. Moments later her WEPs climbed in back and started waking up systems while other pilots walked around her Apache and pulled flags off all the ordnance. Chavez checked her aircraft's external sensors and cut loose the rotor blades, just as she saw Higgins walking back from the mission. She saw his eyes then, watery and bloodshot, and groaned inwardly as he stepped up beside her.

"Did you get any sleep last night," Aronson asked.

Higgins shook his head. "I stayed up talking with Bowie all night. Gave him a Vita-stim, too."

"Oh. Bet that was interesting."

"In a way. He's a...unique...individual, that's for sure."

"Think you can fly?"

"Me? Sure. I didn't have any of Crockett's 'shine, or whatever he calls that paint thinner."

Aronson looked him in the eye. "How big was that sphere?"

"Huge. About twice the apparent diameter of the moon – I'd guess a kilometer wide."

"Well, fuck," she said. I guess you better saddle up. I want to go check it out, but I have a bad feeling..."

"Plan of attack?"

"Stealth mode. Slow, through the trees. I want you to stay about a mile to the west of me, and a little behind..."

"We'll kick up a lot of dust that way..."

"Okay. What's your idea?"

"I'll circle around, come up from their rear while you probe slowly from here. Zig-zag between stands of trees, vary your altitude but don't kick up a bunch of shit."

Aronson nodded. "I like it, but I want a third, someone off to my west. Chavez!" she called out.

"Yo!"

"You're coming, so saddle up; I want you to keep west of me, treetops but vary your altitude to avoid rotor blast. Let's keep ECM and radar on stand-by. Chavez, you're Beagle Two, Higgins, three. Go to TAC frequency three, enable scrambled burst mode."

Both pilots nodded.

"Rules of engagement?" Higgins asked.

Aronson shook her head. "I don't want to give anything away, not yet. Bug-out unless there's no way out. Chavez? Get your WEPs and let's get going..." She turned to McKaig. "Monitor TAC three," Aronson said, looking around, "and be prepared to move everyone out of here. Break camp now. If we need to regroup, find some low cover 20 miles due north and wait for us."

"Lieutenant? What's up?"

"I don't know. Something feels wrong."

"Okay, twenty due north on your go."

Aronson nodded, then looked at McKaig closely. "How was Crockett?"

McKaig blushed. "He's kinda sweet. Loopy, but sweet."

"No regrets?"

"No. None at all."

Aronson nodded, grinned. "Well, I'm glad someone got laid last night. Why don't you keep Travis or Crockett close by 'til we get back?"

"Right. Will do," McKaig said as she saluted; Aronson returned it as she closed the canopy and checked safeties, then she slipped on her Nomex gloves. She held up her right index finger and twirled it a few times, telling everyone on the ground she was starting engines, and she worked her way through the Engine Start Checklist. When she saw Beagles two and three were ready, she pressed the button on the stick to key the mic:

"Lead to three: go now. Head north...maybe those hills will mask your approach, and keep an eye on your fuel. Try to get back with at least a half load. If we need to bug out, twenty miles due north from the mission."

"Three received."

"Two received."

She watched as Higgin's Apache lifted and veered away from the sunrise, nose down and gathering speed, first across a broad meadow then as it disappeared into trees. She looked across to Chavez and shot him the 'thumb's up' – then rolled forward before she pulled up on the collective.

"Beagle lead. Start the mission clock," and all three WEPs operators set clocks and began activating their onboard weapons systems. She crossed right over the mission, looked down at Crockett, Travis, and now even Jim Bowie was down there, hand up, shading his face from the rotor blast as her ship passed overhead. Once clear of the compound she slipped lower and checked her port side mirror for dust. Clear at 30 feet, so she slipped lower – and just below 20 feet 'above ground level' she saw tan dust rising so she pulled up a bit and began weaving slowly through and between stands of cedars and live oak trees. She kept it up for several anxious minutes, then:

"Three to lead."

"Lead, go."

"Thirty five miles down range, turning back to the north now."

"Lead to two, move out a little more to the west."

"Two, got it."

She saw the yellow light on the ECM panel almost immediately...there was a low-power search radar sweeping the sky just ahead...

"Beagle two, lead, picking up agile scans on 26.5 through 40 Ghz."

"Lead, got it."

"Three, not getting painted out here."

"Lead to Beagles. Go active ECM."

"Lieutenant," her weapons officer said on the intercom, "at those frequencies it's got to be a Russian T-14."

"I know," Aronson said.

"Okay," WEPs said, "picking up AESA scans now. Confirm Russian T-14s, five, maybe six radars transmitting."

"Got a bearing?"

"Zero-seven-seven degrees, eighteen kilometers to lead element."

The threat warning annunciator lit-off, audible warnings began chirping on the ECM board, and Aronson slowed and went into a hover inches off the ground, behind a large outcropping of rock and scrub.

"LAUNCH detected!" her WEPs shouted; Aronson looked over the trees and saw three lance-like pillars of smoke race by just overhead, and she winced when she heard the detonations somewhere behind her Apache.

"Beagle lead to base. BUG OUT NOW. Beagle two, Beagle three, RTB now, repeat, return to base and lets cover the movement."

"Two."

"Three to lead. I've got eyes on five command tanks, guessing 30 more T-14s in five columns. Several fixed heat blooms, guessing a regiment sized ground force with APCs and two SAM launchers."

"Received! RTB, and stay down in the weeds!"

"Three, roger your RTB."

'What the hell's going on now!' Aronson thought, now feverish with dread as she slipped back through the trees towards the mission compound. There was no way the defenders at the Alamo could stand up to an augmented motorized group, let alone a regiment of Russian troops: she had to convince Travis and Bowie to leave the garrison and warn Houston...

"Lieutenant!" WEPs screamed over the intercom. "Two o'clock high!"

She looked right and high and groaned at the sight.

Three new spheres, each unbelievably huge, drifted down through the crisp morning sky, but her eyes soon darted to the left. A wall of dark, menacing cloud, perhaps ten miles high and spitting lightning everywhere she looked was roaring out of the north – and within seconds she was fighting to keep her Apache aloft in a howling crosswind and blinding snow.

+++++

Sandusky reefed Boomer 505 into a tight left turn; he looked out over the wing and down into the Pacific 32,000 feet below; one battleship remained, and he could see fires burning out of control all along it's length. As he watched, fire hit the main magazines and a fireball emerged from the center of the ship, and Sandusky suddenly felt sick to his stomach. Nine missiles fired at fundamentally defenseless men and ships, and in a matter of minutes close to fifteen thousand lives had been obliterated. Now, as the smoke cleared, even this ship was gone, another 900 men gone...

"Lead, two. Anything else we need to hit?"

Sandusky just shook his head. "Boomer lead. All remaining ships are heading north northwest into a squall line. Four, what's that incoming strike look like?"

"Four, lead. They're turning to the north now, skipper. I don't think they've seen me, either."

"One of the carriers must have gotten an abort code off," Boomer two said. "What should we do, Lead? There are no carriers out there for them to land on?"

Sandusky fought the wave of helplessness that hit him as he thought of the hundred or so men down there... "No godddamnit! They're pilots!" he shouted out loud as he flipped up his targeting visor and leveled his wings. He shook his head, struggled to regain his sense of humanity, thought of all the joint training OPS he'd been through with Japanese pilots over the years...

"Lead. Form up on me, then let's see if we can...Holy shit...Lead to Two-nine bravo."

"Bravo, go," Courville said.

"What's your heading?"

"090 at FL44, 478 knots, 'bout halfway to Moloka'i on my pattern."

"Come to 320 and tell me what you see."

Courville entered the heading on the flight director and the B-2 began a slow, standard rate turn to the left, then he craned his head around to see what Sandusky was, apparently, so worried about.

"Hold mother of God," Captain Sinclair said as the wall of cloud appeared ahead of them. "That wasn't there fifteen minutes ago."

"It's not there now," Courville said, pointing at the weather radar.

"Put it on max range," she said, and Courville turned the range knob. A solid red wall appeared and both shook their head.

"Height has to be over a hundred thousand at this range scale," he said. "That's just not possible."

"Look at the lightning," Sinclair said. "Good thing we don't have to fly through that crap..."

Courville grunted, looked at the display again. "Two-niner Bravo to Boomer lead. Estimated height of cloud over F-L 100, and it's really moving-in fast."

"Roger that. I'm already getting some snow here."

"Four to Lead. Get out of there! Now!"

Sandusky looked up in time to see a deep gray lozenge-shaped orb emerge from the cloud – then it shimmered in the air and hovered, filling the sky just above his aircraft. He sat inside the mechanical cocoon that kept him alive at this altitude, happy to be alive and sorry it was all going to end so soon, then he suddenly felt unsure of anything and everything about the world around him. Nausea returned, the world grew dim – even his cocoon began to fade away – then a blue sphere, impossibly close and getting closer – lay just ahead in his path and instinct took over. He rammed the throttle to full military power and pulled back sharply on the stick, his eyes growing wide with fear and wonder as the view ahead filled with the certainty of his death.

(C)2016 Adrian Leverkühn | ABW

  • COMMENTS
4 Comments
wheelzCOwheelzCOabout 8 years ago
Something else

Check the definition of tropopause. It varies from 30,000 feet over the poles to 55,000 feet over the equator (on average). Clouds rarely rise above the tropopause.

wheelzCOwheelzCOabout 8 years ago
What??

What the heck is going on? Russian tanks showing up in 1836 near the Alamo? A huge wall of clouds to 100,000 feet showing up in 1941? This is really confusing.

bruce22bruce22about 8 years ago
Wow

Nothing like blowing tranquility out of the fantasy.

rightbankrightbankabout 8 years ago
not enough information

I think the best way to describe this chapter is

Tease

Just when we thought we were figuring out what might be happening

it all changes

again

Share this Story

story TAGS

READ MORE OF THIS SERIES

Timeshadow 03 Previous Part
Timeshadow Series Info

Similar Stories

Escape from Earth Ch. 01 Adam is about to have his world turned upside down.in Sci-Fi & Fantasy
Abandoned with the Enemy Ch. 01 Soldier gets stranded on an island after battle with aliens.in NonHuman
Someone Has Been Sleeping in My Bed Two women get caught and can't fix it.in Loving Wives
February Sucks - Momma Bear's Cubs Momma Bears kick ass.in Loving Wives
I'm 51 You're never too old to start again.in Loving Wives
More Stories