Edge of the Vortex Read online

  What was left of the robot was in a twisted mass at the bottom. The head was missing, and the torso looked like it had been completely flattened by the pressure of the exploding munition. The arms had been ripped off, and the legs were dangling off the torso by a few wires.

  Sitting down in the dirt, Jack flipped the safety back on and gave the all clear over the radio. He wasn’t sure if more of these things were going to start falling out of the sky, but he knew that they had barely survived an attack from one machine, making the threat of more machines dropping from the heavens all the more frightening.

  9

  Earth Orbit

  16 January

  Base Commander Sajoba was standing next to Sector Commander Varus, who hadn’t moved from his command chair since the Coalition fleet had jumped into the system. The former commander of the base on Rancor 7 was confident that every threat to their forces had already been neutralised, and that after the failed attempt to launch a missile strike at the forces in orbit, the planet’s leaders would crawl into a cave and not leave. Sending down the captured human the next day would ensure subservience.

  “Sajoba.”

  “Sir.”

  Varus stirred in his chair, shifting his weight to one side, and looked up at his second. “Opinion.”

  Sajoba stepped forward, closer to the main view screen which was also showing a variety of images from the four sites on the planet’s surface where their forces had landed, as well as imagery of the cities that had been destroyed, along with status indicators on all ships in the system.

  Sajoba took a moment to look at all the data before giving an answer. “System and planet appear under our control. I would advise destroying the large space station in orbit and then launching an EMP strike on the entire planet.” He looked at Varus, then back to the large screen. “I do believe that we should not hold back in subjugating this world.”

  Varus shifted again in his seat and adjusted his breastplate slightly. It was more of a ceremonial and decorative piece, and not very comfortable, but sometimes traditions had to be maintained. “The Global Energy Field is in place and stable?”

  Sajoba cleared his throat. “My apologies.” He bowed his head slightly. “The field is active and operating at proper levels.”

  Varus nodded. “Very good. You can follow through with your suggestions.” Varus paused and looked down at a data reader on the armrest of his command chair. “Where is Sinus Fu?”

  Sajoba looked down at the ground, paused for a moment, then pulled out a small datapad from his belt. “He is off planet.” There was a pause. “He is currently aboard Carrier J5, Sir.”

  Varus nodded. “You can release him from his duties in the system. His work is done here. Inform him that he and his team will receive the appropriate decoration.” Varus rose from the command chair and took two steps forward. “This mission has gone exactly to plan.” He looked at Sajoba. “You have control of the bridge. I am retiring to my quarters.”

  Sajoba smiled and watched as his commander walked towards the rear of the bridge and out of view. Taking his seat in the command chair, Sajoba rolled his shoulders and allowed himself to relax. Looking forward, he issued his commands.

  “Have the closest warship destroy the station in orbit, and have the planet EMP’d.” He ordered. Shifting slightly to his left, a grin came onto his face, before he looked towards one of the science stations. “What kind of biological weapons do we have aboard?”

  Doctor Marie Esperanza didn’t see the micro-singularity missile launch from one of the large Coalition warships that had surrounded Earth. None of the crew on the International Space Station felt a thing when the warhead detonated not ten metres from the side of the station and opened a black hole no larger than one metre across, but even at that size, the gravitational pull was so immense that the station was sucked inside in under a fraction of a second, just before the space-time distortion collapsed on itself.

  Less than a minute after it had been launched from the vessel, anyone looking for the human-built space station would have seen nothing. A void where not even the smallest piece of debris remained. It had been erased from the known universe, along with everyone on it, and reduced to nothing.

  10

  Lasqueti, British Columbia

  16 January

  “Can anyone sail?” Keegan looked at the Canadian soldiers as they rounded the final bend before the main harbour on Lasqueti came into view. He knew one of them had said they could sail, just not which one.

  “Yeah.” Shouted the team’s senior sergeant, Sergeant Wilson. “Not a problem, Sir.”

  “Good.” Keegan was out of breath and struggling with the moderate pace the humans and the aliens were going along at. “I noticed a twenty-metre sailboat the other day. If it’s still here, we may have found our way off the island.”

  Sure enough, when the harbour came into view, a navy sailboat that was just over twenty metres in length as Keegan had remembered sat in the middle of the harbour, nose pointing west into the Strait of Georgia.

  “Right!” Captain Joyce, the officer in charge of the Canadians, was quick to come up with a plan. “Perkins and Jefferson, take that dingy out to the sailboat with Sergeant Wilson and start getting that thing ready to depart.” He looked at Keegan. “We use the dinghy to ferry everyone out to the boat, and once we’re ready to go, we make a run down the Strait, and to a safe-haven.”

  Keegan shook his head and looked at Ryan before looking back to the Canadian, then to Hulo. “I’m not sure where that might be. If the Coalition has control of the system, they control the planet, and if they control the world, then our options are going to very limited.”

  Hulo stepped forward. “That may be the case, Doctor Beck, but my troops and I will continue to fight, regardless of how dire the situation becomes. We need to fall back to a defensive position and evaluate the situation.”

  Keegan looked out towards the water. He wasn’t sure who they could actually turn to. The Planetary Command Ship had disappeared. The armed forces of Canada and the United States combined wouldn’t amount to anything in a fight against the aliens. They needed an ally who could help them somehow get in contact with Alliance forces outside the system. It was impossible for Keegan to know the fate of the friendly forces in orbit, so he had to assume that they were destroyed. Maybe the Epsilon got away. He just wasn’t sure.

  “Who do you know that can help?” Ryan asked, giving her husband’s hand a squeeze.

  “No one.” He paused and looked up towards the sky, then back down at Hulo, Ryan and the Canadian officer. “But I might just know someone.”

  “Who?” Asked the army officer.

  “Gaius Stephenson.” Replied Keegan.

  “What?” Ryan interjected. “I thought he was some kind of traitor to SETI.”

  Keegan smiled. “He was, but he was also very good at what he did.”

  “Where can we find this man?” Asked Hulo.

  “If I know Gaius, he’s probably with his puppet master.” Keegan pulled his smartphone out of his pocket. “John Robert.”

  Keegan, Star Guard Hulo and Captain Joyce were standing on the bow of the sailing ship, the wind whisking them along the quiet body of water at twelve knots. Keegan had never been north along the coast, but the group was in luck, Sergeant Wilson, the ‘Captain’ of the ship was familiar with the waters, and he had just come forward to point out a sleepy looking village called Kelsey Bay that was off to their west.

  It had only been a few hours since the news of the Coalitions arrival had hit, and the adrenaline was finally wearing off. Keegan had a plan, and Hulo plus the Canadians seemed to be onboard with it, he just wasn’t sure how they were going to pull it off. Getting Doctor Stephenson on the phone wasn’t going to be easy. Keegan knew that there was a small Tohil facility in Prince Rupert that was used to process some of their oceanographic research studies that were conducted in the Pacific, but that didn’t guarantee that anyone was going to be there, and even
if the offices were occupied that didn’t guarantee they’d be able to reach out to someone else.

  Keegan directed his attention to the lush woods that lined the Strait and tried to let his mind relax while the two soldiers discussed more pressing matters.

  “How are your supplies?” Hulo asked.

  “Not good. Personal weapons only. Basic load-out of ammunition. Some rations, more like snacks. We didn’t have time to get to our bug-out bags.” The Canadian responded. “You?”

  “Similar. We will be unable to resupply our energy weapons once they are depleted, and we only have short range communications equipment.” Hulo replied. “If we can remain undetected, then perhaps we will not require these tools anyway.”

  The captain nodded.

  “Beck.”

  Keegan turned around to look at the Canadian.

  “Once we reach Prince Rupert, we’ll take your lead, and unless we come across another military unit, consider us your bodyguard until this is resolved.” The officer reached out his hand and put it on Keegan’s shoulder.

  Keegan smiled. “Thank you.” He shook his head and looked down at the boat’s deck. “We’re operating in the dark right now. We need to get some more information, somehow, and figure out the best course of action. The first of which is still getting in contact with Doctor Stephenson.”

  “We’re in the middle of a storm right now. Crazy things are happening all around us. This war, between the Alliance and the Coalition, has us trapped in the middle.” Joyce said.

  Keegan nodded. “The vortex.”

  “That’s it.” Joyce replied.

  “The trouble is, Captain, when we’re no longer in the vortex, but in the storm itself.” Keegan took a deep breath. “That’s where the real danger lies.”

  11

  The White House

  17 January

  “They’re not actually coming down here, are they?” General Anderson, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, asked. “I mean, the Alliance never had the contemptuousness to send anyone here without our consent.”

  The National Security Advisor shook his head. “I don’t know general. We’re not dealing with the Alliance anymore.” Zach North looked at the director of the CIA who was sitting next to him. “What are your casualty estimates?”

  Angela Simmons shook her head. Her strong hands had been holding a single sheet of paper for the last five minutes. “Mr President,” She locked her brown eyes on President Bednarik. “Our estimates are just above fifty million dead., but that doesn’t include Israel and Pakistani numbers yet.” She folded the sheet of paper and put it in her jacket pocket.

  The president rubbed his chin. “Nick, thoughts?”

  “They could have done more damage. This was their way of letting us know what they’re capable of.” The Chief of Staff looked at the list of cities destroyed. “Mexico City, Sao Paulo, Moscow, Lagos, Tokyo, and Sydney. The most populated cities on every continent.” He put the sheet down. “The aliens knew what they were targeting.”

  “Yes, yes, but what do we do know?” The President asked.

  “I think we meet with whomever they send down, see what he knows and what he can tell us.” Nick said. “Other than the attack on those six cities, and the four sites around the globe they’ve secured, they’ve done nothing else to threaten us, I propose that if they had more cities on their list to destroy, they would have done so already.”

  “They’ve taken out all our satellites. We’re blind, and reports are coming in that every aircraft in the air is being attacked.” Interjected General Anderson.

  “You don’t think we should retaliate?” Angela asked, sitting up.

  “Retaliate? With what?” Nick asked.

  “General, tell her what you said about the Chinese.” Nick instructed.

  The general sighed and looked at the only black woman in the room. “The Chinese threw over two hundred missiles at the alien site in Myanmar, and nothing happened. They then sent over one hundred warplanes against the site, and they just disappeared.”

  “Gone?” Angela asked.

  “Gone.” The general replied. “They’ve affected our satellites, air travel, the internet. Hell, they’ve shut down our link to our strategic forces and hacked our networks, and our missile command in seconds. We’re wide open and vulnerable.”

  Angela smiled. “Well, perhaps this is our chance to nuke them.”

  Zach waved his arms in the air. “Hold on, nuke whom, and where?” He looked at the general. “Can we fire missiles at their ships in space?”

  “I’d have to dig into that.” The general replied.

  “Madness. Pure madness.” Chimed in John Riley, the head of NASA who had been sitting quietly for most of the meeting. “Did you not see what happened when the Israeli’s and the Pakistani’s tried to fire their missiles at the ships in orbit?” He looked around the room. “They fell back down on their heads. Millions killed. Israel almost certainly completely destroyed. And you’re considering this course of action? We’ve lost. The war is over.” He shook his head.

  “Hold on one second.” The voice of reason from the Secretary of Energy, the president’s closest friend on his cabinet, Andy Barnham finally entered the conversation. “Before we do anything and start firing off missiles like the fourth of July, perhaps we should hear their terms at noon when Captain Bader arrives.”

  George Garnier, the Secretary of Defence was the last in the room to speak. “You don’t actually think we should be here at noon, do you?” He checked his watch. “We’ve got three hours to get as far from here as possible, and I suggest that we do that.”

  The president looked over his advisors. Then made his decision. “I’ll stay, but I want the Vice President, plus the Speaker out of DC and in a safe location.” The president pointed at the general. “General Anderson, I want you to make sure all our forces stay where they are, no sudden heroics.” He got a nod. “If we’re lucky, they will keep themselves contained to those four sites they’ve already occupied. If not, then we’ll start to consider our options, but not until then.”

  12

  En-Route to the White House

  17 January

  Scott was still wearing the same flight suit he had been wearing the day before on the ISS, and he hadn’t shaved. He was feeling unkempt, and unprepared to meet with the president, and somewhere, in the back of his mind, he was worried about being considered a quisling. He wasn’t sure what time it was when he had been roused from the chamber he had been sequestered to after he had spoken with the White House, but when he returned to the shuttle bay, he was fairly certain that it was the 17th of January, and it was time to go back to Earth.

  When he and his escort, a small droid, arrived in the hangar-bay, it still had a buzz of activity about it, but less than when he had arrived the previous day. Scott followed the droid towards a large shuttle that must have been almost thirty metres long, and ten metres wide, and appeared to be bristling with weapons ports.

  Upon entering the shuttle, Scott was shown to a seat in what he assumed was the ships bridge, and was strapped in by the droid, before it departed, leaving Scott alone with the flight crew who were all going about pre-flight checks and were doing their best to ignore their visitor. Without any translation device, Scott was unable to make out the conversations that were going back and forth between the members of the crew, but was in a position to see the ships side hatch, which was slid open, and couldn’t help but notice the twenty heavily armed troops that boarded the ship, and made their way to a series of flip-down seats just aft of the side hatch.

  After the troops had entered, two Light Sentinels boarded the shuttle, each armed with a weapon and waited just inside the hatch, frozen like two statues. Last to enter was Base Commander Sajoba, who was wearing what looked like a set of full body armour with a helmet with the front shield flipped up. He turned left and walked up to Scott, and paused, looking at the human for a moment, before moving deeper into the cockpit and speaking with a f
ew members of the bridge crew before walking out past Scott and towards the rear of the shuttle.

  Scott shrugged and focused his attention on the crew as they went about their pre-launch procedures. There were four crew members on the bridge. One sat at the front, just before the screen that allowed a view out onto the hangar, then two crew sat on either side of the bridge, also facing forwards, and finally, a command chair sat just behind all three. Three of the crew members were seated, while the fourth moved around the space, perhaps double checking all the pre-flight checks. Once satisfaction was achieved, the last member of the crew sat down in their chair and made a call over the ships onboard communications system. After a moments silence, a steady hum started to emanate from the rear of the ship, and the side hatch slid shut. A few minutes later, and the lightning to the back of the bridge went red, while the bridge went almost completely dark, except light coming from instrument panels, which were all lit up brightly.

  Scott watched as the ship rose up from the deck, and started to move towards the hatch that was on the top of the ship, and within seconds, the shuttle was out of the larger warship and making a straight line run towards Earth. Scott expected the shuttle to put its nose up, and perform a belly entry into the upper atmosphere like the old NASA shuttles, but this ship appeared to have some sort of deflector and took a direct approach towards the planet’s surface.

  Sitting just to the rear of the cockpit, Scott couldn’t believe how little the shuttle was shaking, in fact, it was probably just his heart racing faster than usual. Looking at the crew members in their positions, they seemed to be rather inactive, except the pilot sat at the front, who was moving his limbs and flipping this or that while the three other members of the bridge crew sat motionlessly. The individual sat in the middle seat occasionally moved his head, checking a read-out or another piece of data that was being fed to him, but other than that, it was calm and nearly silent.