Work in Progress

Chapter 7

         John hung around Nellis because Oksana was required to supervise the installation of the engines and electronics on the two new MiGs that Mike acquired.  His work with the Hopi Nation on Second Mesa in Arizona could be on hold indefinitely.
         There was a knock on Mike's door.
         "Come in."
         "Sir, sergeant Kowalski reporting as ordered, sir!" The man saluted and Mike just squinted back at him.
         "First, I'm retired.  Second, I was Navy and we don't salute inside.  Third, I was enlisted and you don't salute me anyway.  Fourth, we don't stand much on ceremony here.  We all work together as a team."
         The sergeant's hand lowered slowly.  "I thought you were a Chief Warrant Officer."
         Mike squinted again.  "Don't ever mention that again.  I was drunk out of my mind when the Admiral conned me into signing that commission when I thought it was my discharge papers."
         "Yes, sir."
         "And I'm Mike, not sir."
         "Yes, s...Mike."  The airman relaxed somewhat. "I'm Joel."
         Mike got up and walked around the desk to shake hands.  "Come on with me and I'll show you what you're going to be doing."
         The pair left the office and building and walked across the tarmac past Vesna to a hanger.
         "Hey Oksana! You remember Joel Kowalski from the other night, don't you?"
         "Of course," she said as she extended her hand.  "You're the scoutmaster."
         "Yes ma'am."
         "Then, meet your new maintenance crew chief."
         The sergeant swung around with a questioning look and Oksana said, "You're letting the military work on these?"
         "I have to eventually. Besides, I like him and I trust him.  McKinney checked him out and he's more than ok."  Mike turned to the military man.  "You didn't tell me you were up the road at Groom Lake for a couple of years."
         Kowalski looked at the ground.  "We're not supposed to talk about that."
         "Well, what you learn in here you're not supposed to talk about, either."
         "Sir, crew chief?  I thought I'd be a mechanic."
         "Since you're the ranking airman, I can make you crew chief.  The fact that you're the only airman is beside the point." Mike smiled broadly.  "Oksana here also had a problem with that 'sir' thing for the longest time.  I finally broke her of the habit and I will you."
         Oksana blushed as the airman said, "Yes s...Mike.  I'll try to remember."
         "Good.  You're now a member of probably the most elite team in the world.  Even though all the pilots here are officers, they won't see you as enlisted.  They will look at you as the man to depend on to save their lives.  Oh!"  Mike took a piece of paper out of his jacket.  "I almost forgot.  You'll have to stop over at the base exchange this afternoon, I got you a couple arcs and a diamond to go with those 5 rockers."
         The sergeant's eyes grew wide as he took the paper from Mike with trembling hands.  "First Sergeant?  E8?  That's two full pay grades!"
         "I tried for 3, but the brass gave me a hard time.  I'll keep working on it.  I was an E9, you should be too."
         "My wife is going to die when I tell her!  I wouldn't have made that for another ten years, if I made it at all."
         "I told you, we're a team.  We all watch each other's back.  Just remember, the only bad decision is the one you don't make."  He turned to the girl.  "Show him what we do here, please."
         Oksana took the stunned airman by the elbow and led him to a group of technicians.
         Mike turned and noticed John sitting in a chair at the corner of the hangar.
         "What are you up to?"
         "Being a third wheel, evidently.  She doesn't even know I'm here."
         "Get used to it.  It's not you.  Carol does the same thing to Misha, and they're married.  There are times that Lana does it to me.  They all have the ultimate power of concentration.  When they're working, nothing else exists.  That's why they are all the best."
         John nodded, but still looked dejected.
         Mike turned and walked back to his office.
         
         "Busy?"  Admiral Teramore's head popped around the corner of Mike's open door.
         "You've got to be kidding.  I only get to save the world once a month."  Mike made a sour face.
         The Admiral's eyes moved to the ceiling, which was devoid of protuberances, but contained several large gouges.  "You've run out of pencils, I see."
         "Yeah, no challenge."
         "I always remember you as being good with your knife."
         "I may see what I can do with a pencil in that wallboard over there," Mike said as he gestured to the wall next to the door.
         "How's Kowalski working out?"
         "Fantastic.  The man is an intuitive mechanic and engineer.  He had the schematics memorized in two days.  Oksana tells me that she thinks he could probably disassemble and reassemble a MiG with a blindfold on.  She says, that next to her, he's the only one she would trust with the maintenance on these craft.  He picked up the concept of the gravity drive in a day.  He can now draw the weapons systems in his sleep."
         "Just once, before I die, God owes me the opportunity to see you wrong about something, just once.  Then I can die happy knowing you're human like the rest of us."
         "Don't hold your breath, you'll die too soon," Mike laughed.  "You know that you and the Seals taught me to trust my instincts."
         "I taught you?  How come you never listened to a word I said?"
         "I listened.  I just didn't always agree.  It worked out."
         "Worked out?  Would you like to buy my monthly Maalox?"
         Mike laughed, "I wasn't that bad.  I always got the job done."
         "Would you like me to remind you with your service record?  I've still got it in my desk here.  The reprimands for not following orders are twice as thick as the commendations for accomplishing a mission."
         "But I accomplished them all..."
         "Maybe so, but those 45 freaking Afghans you brought back as prisoners when you were simply supposed to blow up their camp, is still on my record.  During my Admiral's board, they brought that up.  My teams kept bringing in prisoners when we were supposed to be suppressing the enemy."
         "If the enemy isn't there, they're suppressed."
         "God!  I hate talking to you because you make sense.  Not military sense because you never followed orders, but sense."
         "Look.  Someday you'll realize that what I did was a lot simpler than what you asked for.  If I killed a pile of Middle Easterners, I'd tick off a lot more.  If a bunch of them disappeared, nobody could get mad because they wouldn't know where they went.  If my guys could 'bring 'em back alive' like Frank Buck, what the heck?  We eliminated the threat and there was no collateral damage."
         "You realize that you ruined six good Seals?"
         "How so?"
         "When you retired, they wouldn't follow orders and did everything their way."
         "Were they successful?"
         "Yes..." the Admiral's voice dropped to a whisper as he looked at his shoes.
         "Mission accomplished."
         
         "Mike?" Vesna's voice came from the intercom.
         "What now?"
         "G'dala is reporting that he's detecting alien thoughts."
         G'dala was the huge supercomputer that belonged to D'am and Y'va on the Plain of Cydonia on Mars.  Mike had discovered them on their first manned voyage to the Red Planet and had learned that as alien geneticists, they had originally created the human race when their native sun had gone nova.
         "Does he know where it's coming from?"
         "Not yet.  The thoughts are very faint, but they are not human or Anglii."
         "I'll send some of my birds out farther and see if they can't scan something."
         "I will keep you posted if he can get a direction."
         "Thanks."
         Mike had supplemented his original 18 satellites with another 30 that could be dispatched quickly anywhere in the solar system.  Like the other models, they were equipped with rudimentary artificial intelligence and the same gravity drives as the MiGs, Vesna, and Galactica.
         Mike pressed another button on the intercom.
         "Captain Anderson."
         "Captain," Mike said to the duty officer at the EDF monitoring station. "I need you to send out the spare birds to around the orbit of Neptune.  The program will be to scan for anything out of the ordinary.  I think we're about to get visitors."
         "Yes sir.  Right away sir."
         Mike rolled his eyes at the "sir", but he reluctantly accepted it from military personnel who would call a lamp post "sir". 
         He pressed another button on the intercom and said, "Barry, I need you.  And grab Misha on your way in."
         Three minutes later Mike's door opened without a knock and Admiral Teramore and General Gerasov entered.
         "Have a seat," Mike gestured to the chairs.
         "Chto eta? What is it?" The General opened.
         "G'dala says we've got company."
         "Where?" the Admiral queried.
         "He's not certain yet because it's very weak.  But he's locked onto thoughts that aren't human and are definitely not Anglii."
         "Have you sent the satellites out yet?" Misha asked.
         "I just did, but they're shooting blind.  There's only 30 of them and this is a large solar system."
         "Should I scramble the men?"
         "Not until I know where this is coming from.  Get them briefed and ramped up to go, but hold them here.  I'd like the two new guys to be included."
         "Great.  They are really anxious to do something.  Did you know they were in the formation when we came back with Vesna?  The rest were Russian Air Force."
         "I had a hunch when I read their records.  I also know you guys have been itching to show up Tom Cruise for the scene in Top Gun where he overflew a MiG upside down."  Mike grinned.  "Both the R.A.F. and R.C.A.F. pilots came from their elite drill teams."
         "Yeah," Misha laughed.  "That stunt was their idea and my guys couldn't resist."
         "Next time, give me a little warning that the guys are doing some extra-curricular activity"
         "You never gave me any warning," the Admiral said sourly.
         "That's because you were too much fun to bait.  I'd have approved this, but I'm not great on surprises.  Since then I've been seriously considering assembling a precision team, or several precision teams since these guys are the best there are.  It will give them good practice, and, when we're not playing 'Cavalry to the rescue', will give the entire world a thrill at air shows."
         The General's eyes widened, "You're serious?"
         "As a heart attack.  Our pilots are fantastic.  They've proven that several times.  I'm not going to make people of that caliber sit on their ass and do training exercises.  They're good and they need to keep practicing being good."
         "I think I can assemble and train at least five teams," the General said.
         "Do it," Mike replied, "as soon as this is over."
         "I'll notify the U.N.," Admiral Teramore broke in.
         "Great! You handle the bureaucrats and I'll handle tactics."
          "Deal.  The more I can keep you away from diplomats, the longer they'll stay diplomatic."
         Mike just grinned and turned to General Gerasov.  "Despite my attitude, I actually think teaching the pilots precision maneuvers was a good idea.  Some of that stuff might come in handy some day."
         Misha grinned back at him.
         Mike continued, "You've got enough personnel and planes for five teams with two spares.  I'd advise rotating the spares with each of the teams to keep them busy.  That brings to mind another problem."
         "What's that?" Teramore asked.
         "Galactica is designed to carry 25 MiGs.  We've now got 26 pilots, including the General here because Major Rostov is now an interstellar ambassador."
         "The last time I flew out in battle to rescue Major Rostov, the Admiral had a cow."
         "So did your mother!  I heard about that for weeks!"
         "What I'm saying is that we can have 25 fully-qualified pilots if I don't fly."
         "Let me think about it.  It might be good to begin agitating for a ship twice the size of Galactica...a real Battle Star.  I may start agitating for funding now.  And don't you dare tell your mother that I'm keeping you on active flying status!"
         "You think I'd give up flying now that I can?"
         "I didn't think so, but I'd be living in Vesna for the next 700 years if she found out."
         Mikhail just grinned.  "Welcome to my world!"
         
         "Mike?" Vesna's voice came from the intercom two days later. 
         "Yeah."
         "G'dala has picked up about a dozen different thoughts now coming from the vicinity of Jupiter.  He assumes one ship because of so few.  According to him, they were approaching the planet today, so that's where they will be by now.  They are well sub-light; in fact, they're only doing about 100,000 kilometers an hour."
         "I'll send all of the birds over to inspect.  It's good that they're only going slowly.  That'll give us several days."
         "And Mike." Vesna added. "G'dala does not detect any hostility, whatsoever.  He tells me they are only explorers with no malevolence. Evidently they detected signals from Earth, and they are coming to explore."
         "Thanks.  I'll keep that in mind. Not human or Anglii?"
         "No.  G'dala can only pick up pictures from them and it's a totally unfamiliar race."
         "OK.  See if he can determine a language or some way to communicate.  We'll need that info in three days."
         "He's already working on it."
         Mike pressed another button on his intercom.
         "Captain Johnson."
         "Captain, Mike Angel.  I need you to send all of the spare birds to the vicinity of Jupiter.  Reprogram them to search for anything unusual and also to be in defensive mode only.  Respond only if attacked.  We've got some company out in that area.  Also link them with each other so that they can track and cooperate with each other.  I want full analysis of their findings on a continuous basis."
         "It will take about an hour for them to return from the Neptune orbit, sir."
         "That's not a problem, Captain.  I want to see what we're up against, and I want to know who they are."
         He pressed another button.
         "Misha.  They're coming up on Jupiter.  Get your guys together.  We may want to go out and take a look for ourselves."
         "Will do."
         Mike heard the low wail of a siren through the walls of his office and knew the pilots were all scrambling to get to Galactica and their planes.  He stabbed another button.
         "Vesna.  Where are Carol and Oksana?"
         "They're here on base.  I already called them and they're on their way.  I also called John."
         "Good.  For once, it's good you second guessed me."
         "I can do that all the time if you wish."
         Mike made a raspberries noise and pushed the button again before getting up from his chair.
         He left the office and stopped at Admiral Teramore's office and waved him out.
         "We're about to meet the neighbors.  Wanna come?"
         "Damn right!"  The Admiral ducked back into his office for a moment and donned his jacket before rejoining Mike in the corridor.
         The pair walked across the tarmac as an official vehicle stopped by Galactica and Oksana and Carol emerged from the car.
         Sergeant Kowalski walked out of the hanger he had been working in.  "What's up?"
         "First contact," Mike replied.  "Get the grease off your hands and come with us.  We may need you."
         The sergeant looked puzzled, but wiped his hands on a rag he had looped through his belt and fell into step behind the two.
         
         "Carol," Mike asked as he as the elevator delivered him to the command deck. "Do you have the coordinates for the alien ship?"
         "I'm just putting them in now."
         "Galactica.  You're in touch with G'dala?"
         "Yes.  I've downloaded all of the pertinent information."
         "I need you to ask a big favor of him."
         "I know that he's telepathic, but I also need to know if he can 'see' through a being's eyes.  I need to know what they look like and I need to understand how they communicate."
         "I will ask."
         "Also ask him to learn the language as soon as possible so that he can download it to you."
         "Already done.  Their appearance is reptilian in nature.  They are bipedal and they do not use audible 'speech'.  They have a dewlap at their throats that changes color and substitutes for speech."
         "Is there anyway we can adapt our translators to this speech?"
         "G'dala has about fifty percent of the language translated and has already downloaded it to me.  If you take the translators and add an LCD screen on your chest with a camera for feedback, I think we can do this."
         Mike turned around.  "John, when we get close, you and Oksana fabricate a couple of these, will you?"
         "Not a problem," the anthropologist replied.  To be close to Oksana, John had learned how to jerry-rig much of the electronic gear to Oksana's specifications during their earlier flights.
         "Galactica.  Can you get me Vesna?"
         "I was wondering when you'd get lonely and phone home," Vesna's feminine voice came over the speakers.
         "Oh hush!  I need a favor."
         "I'm not a psychiatrist," was the flat reply.
         "Not now!  I'm serious.  I need you to get Captain Starskiy on board, and then get in touch with Joe, Igor, Jim and Ivan and make arrangements to pick them up and bring them to the base."
         "In over your head again?"
         "No. I want to share the pain of having to deal with you!  Now just do it."
         There was no click as Vesna disconnected.
         "Boy, you two really don't get along," observed Sergeant Kowalski.
         "It's not that," Lana responded.  "Mike needs someone to keep him in line when I'm not around."
         Carol giggled and Mike turned to Lana.  "Not you too!  I'm going downstairs and make something to eat."
         Mike got up and walked to the elevator.  Admiral Teramore also got up and said to Misha, "Let me know when we're about an hour out."
         The General nodded without turning around as Teramore followed Mike to the elevator. 
         "It'll be a couple of hours," Misha said over his shoulder.  "I'm going slowly so that we don't appear hostile.
         "Slowly" to the General was a little over 50-million kilometers an hour.
         
         "So what do you think is going on?" the Admiral asked as Mike was drawing a Guinness.  Teramore crossed over to a cabinet and retrieved a bottle of bourbon and a glass.  Mike handed him a bottle of water from the refrigerator and the two settled down at the table.
         "I don't know, but I'm not worried."
         "How's that?  We've got aliens now on our turf."
         "G'dala hasn't detected any hostile intentions or he would have expressed them.  Personally, I think they're either explorers, lost, or somebody who needs help."
         "I hope you're right," the Admiral said as he sipped his whiskey.  "It would be nice not to have a crisis for a change."
         "Agreed."
         The pair sat in silence until Sergeant Kowalski entered. "Mind if I join you?"
         "Not at all," Mike replied.  "There's Guinness on the wall with mugs in the freezer.  Bourbon's here with glasses in the cabinet.  Or Vodka's in the freezer."
         "Do you have anything lighter?"
         "There's soda in the refrigerator."
         The sergeant took out a bottle of orange soda and sat at the table."
         "I appreciate you inviting me along," he said to Mike.  "The scouts are all still going crazy over the joyride you took them on and my wife's the envy of all the women at base housing."
         "My pleasure.  You're a contributing member of the team and Oksana's more than impressed by your work.  I value her opinions more than anybody's.  I don't know if we'll really need your services, but you never know.  Oksana's only one woman and can't do everything, despite what she thinks.  We lost one plane the last time we ran up against the unknown."
         "I remember that on television.  The General rescued the pilot though, right?"
         "Right.  Now he's back on the planet living it up."
         "That right.  He married a native girl.  That was on television, too!"
         "Yup.  I talked to Valery last month.  He and Ok'nsa are expecting their first."
         "Wow!  Imagine a human-alien hybrid child."
         Mike smiled.  "Don't forget we all carry Anglii genes.  That's why we walk upright and only eat bananas as a snack."
         The Admiral made a pained expression and took another sip of his drink. "You know, for the life of me, I'm never going to get used to your warped sense of humor."
         "It'll grow on you."
         "Yeah, like a fungus."  The Admiral took another drink.
         "Mike? Admiral?" Mikhail's voice came through the speaker on the wall.
         "Yeah.  What's up?" Mike responded.
         "I think you better get up here.  We've been detected.  We're receiving radio frequency signals from the direction of the alien craft."
         "We'll be right up.  Have John and Oksana get busy fabricating a translator and Oksana needs to come up with a receiver/transmitter."
         "They're already on their way down to engineering.  We're still about an hour out."
         "We're on our way."
         The trio finished their drinks and Mike put the glasses in the sink as Sergeant Kowalski dropped his bottle into a receptacle near the sink.




Ben W. Gardner
Sedona, Arizona

"I do not fear computers. I fear lack of them." --Isaac Asimov

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In The Beginning - ISBN:  1-4116-3848-4
Just In Time - ISBN 1-4116-3851-4
Ad Astra - ISBN: 978-1-84728-518-8
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