Ancient Birthright (14 page)

“It’s fertile, the last egg is fertile,” he blurted out between gasps. “I don’t know what I’d have done if I would have had to take our last egg to waste-recy. Taking the first two almost killed me. What really got to me was the number of other souls doing the same thing. I don’t know what’s going on. But, it looked like every clutching pair on the ship is losing most of their eggs.”

A gasp came from behind the screen, then the sound of muffled sobs.

“I’m sorry Renna. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sure your eggs are fine. I just wanted to let everyone know that the third egg is fertile and should hatch.”

“It’s okay Kaas. Tell Karonna I am so happy to hear the egg is fertile,” Renna said between sniffs. “If you don’t think it would upset her, tell her we have four eggs in our clutch.”

“Four!” Kaas looked at Saigg. “Why, you da soul. We have to give you a nickname. From now on I’ll call you Soul-Stud, SS for short.”

“What if it was my doing?” Renna asked. “Are you going to give me a nickname too?”

“Okay, how about Clutchamama, or Eggs-ot-ica. I know, I know...Ulti-mate.” Kaas suggested.

“On second thought, Renna suits me just fine. Karonna should be coming down off the hormone high tomorrow. When she does and you take her place on the nest, ask her if she will come talk to me.”

“I will. I should get back and see if she needs anything.” Kaas and Caraa left to check on Karonna.

Marra settled more comfortably on her end of the couch as Saigg got up and began pacing the room, his coloration indicating concern and worry.

“Saigg don’t borrow trouble. This time next seven cycle you could have four healthy eggs developing,” Marra said.

“I know what the odds are, and I’m trying not to apply them to our clutch. What’s really bothering me is what Kaas said about all the others he met at the waste-recy unit. The rest of the ship’s crew must know that something’s wrong. We’ve never experienced fertility problems of this magnitude before. I’ve been wondering for a while if I should tell Beldon about our problems. I know the souls on Earth can’t help us now, but at least he would know what we’re up against and he might be able to suggest a solution for when we get closer. I need to talk to Command Prime and get his recommendation.” Saigg left Renna and Marra to visit while he wandered the ship thinking. He hoped someone had answers and could tell him what to do.

Chapter-15

Striker’s cell phone rang as he left the Twenty-First Space Wing headquarters coffee room.

He opened the phone. “Colonel Striker.” He listened for a few moments. “Mr. Wilkins, I understand your reluctance to talk on the phone. I’ll be in your office in three hours.” The phone closed with a snap. Striker continued to the helicopter.

He failed to get Dr. Breathsword removed as director of NARO after only a single observation of him leaving to play golf. Striker had backed off his crusade when his boss pulled him aside and pointed out the career limiting potential of trying to get a U.S. Senator’s brother fired. The general did approve a back channel request for a GAO inquiry. Investigators quietly infiltrated NRAO.

Inspectors substantiated preliminary reports of misconduct and misuse of government funds. Agents continued to build their case against Director Breathsword. The latest incident occurred when Dr. Breathsword tried to hire his nephew, William Breathsword III, a recent high school graduate with a 1.4 GPA, as a senior astronomer with an annual salary of $110,000. When the head of human resources objected to the hire, Breathsword fired her.

Director Breathsword stepped in it this time. I heard she filed a $40 million dollar wrongful termination lawsuit last week and reporters are all over him.

Striker’s helicopter landed on the pad nearest the maintenance building. Wilkins escorted him to his office. “Mary, hold my calls, and see that we aren’t disturbed,” Wilkins directed as he passed his secretary’s desk.

“Have you received more audio transmissions?” Striker asked.

“Yes, but that’s not why I called and asked you to come. Once we picked up additional radio transmissions, we refined our search to a specific sector of the sky. We first attempted to locate the source of the transmissions through your GEODSS system that’s located a few miles down the road. They were unable to locate any objects at the position we gave them. As you know, that system is good for electro-optical object tracking from 3000 miles to just beyond geosynchronous altitudes of around 22,000 miles but only at night. We also used the pulse generators on the antennas to do our own search starting just beyond the orbit of the moon. Every time we pick up the radio signal, we’ve fine-tuned our aiming of the antennas and increased the listening delay. This morning I ordered the transmitter to full power, transmitted a short series of long pulses, and opened the receivers to listen for an extended period. I figured if something was out there we would eventually get a return.”

“And did you get the results you expected?” queried Striker.

“Results, yes...what we expected, no. We located an object approximately one point three billion miles out in space well off the ecliptic.”

“So what is it, a comet or asteroid, something from the Oort cloud?”

“I don’t know. What I can tell you is that it’s on an intercept course with Earth. If it maintains its current speed, it will arrive in less than a year.”

“Why do you say ‘if’ it maintains its current speed?” Striker asked.

“The data we’ve collected indicates the object is slowing down. At its current rate of deceleration, it will arrive with a final velocity that will be optimal to enter Earth orbit. Because it’s slowing, it will take approximately three and a half years to arrive.”

Striker sat in stunned silence, his mind churning through the possibilities. “What are the chances the radio transmissions are coming from this object?”

“I would say the correlation of position and the delay between bursts of information would make it a near certainty.”

“Any way of telling who the transmissions are aimed at?”

“The only names we’ve heard are in that first transmission,” responded Wilkins.

“I want you and your crew to keep this under wraps. Tell no one. Not even your superiors. I want the originals and all copies of every transmission you have recorded. As of this minute, I am declaring this a National Security Event, and will have military security personnel here within the hour. Please make sure no one with knowledge of these transmissions leaves.”

“You know the Director has heard the first intercept,” Wilkins reminded Striker as he pulled out his desk chair and offered it to him.

There was a sharp wrap on the closed door. It swung open. Striker could hear Wilkins’ secretary.

“You can’t go in there.”

“Wilkins you slave driver. Have you tried to kill anyone else lately?” Duane Dumas limped through the door. “Oh, sorry, didn’t know you were in a meeting.”

“Dumas, what the hell are you doing here?”

“The Doc’s cleared me to return to work. This’s my first day back. Need my work assignment so I can get to work. I’ve been gone so long I’m a little out of the loop.”

Wilkin stepped in front of Striker, and invaded Duane’s personal space. “I didn’t receive notice you were back.”

“Yea. HR is a little busy. They were holding up my return from extended disability because of the push to hire the Senator’s illiterate offspring as a senior astronomer. Once that fell through, HR brought me back on full time along with two other data analysts who’d been laid off.”

“Where did you hear about Senator Breathsword’s son?” Wilkins demanded.

“It was all anyone wanted to talk about during in-processing. That and the radio intercepts you guys have been getting. The people at reception told me that someone has a manned space station in deep orbit and the Air Force didn’t know anything about it until you told them.”

Wilkins took Duane by the arm and tried to turn him toward the door. “Just gossip. Go tell Thompson to clear his stuff out of your desk. Let the rest of the crew know your back as foreman.”

Duane didn’t leave. “So what is it? Someone making a run for Mars? A weapons platform? It sure as hell can’t be us. The space shuttles are on their last few missions, and the President has killed almost all of NASA’s funding. He even shut down the replacement shuttle development contracts.”

Duane finally noticed the uniformed man behind Wilkins. “Hi, I’m Duane Dumas, maintenance crew foreman.” He side stepped Wilkins and held out his hand.

Striker took Duane’s hand. “Colonel Mathew Striker.”

“Yeah, you must be Wilkins’ contact with NORAD, the man in charge of field operations. The guy Director Breathsword brushed off so he could make his regular golf game.”

“Heard about you at in-processing, too.” Duane smiled. “The
man
behind the budget strings. You got ol’ Dr. Breathsword shredding paper by the truck load in case a GAO audit shows up.”

Duane turned back to Wilkins. “So, Wilkins have you contacted media relations and started writing your press release or is the Director going to take over and claim the spot light?”

The color drained from Wilkins face. “What are you talking about?”

“I expect the news crews will be here anytime and they’re going to want to talk to the man who uncovered the ‘V
oice From Space
’. I bet every telephone on this installation is connected to someone in the news business as people try to sell the story.”

Striker turned to Wilkins. “Get me those recordings, IMMEDIATELY!”

Wilkins jumped and ran from the office.

Colonel Striker took a deep breath before turning to Dumas. “Mr. Dumas, I suggest you leave the installation, now. You’ve been reinstated, so your pay will resume. Since your currently involved in the activities in the maintenance section, I see no need to confine you to the installation at this time. Go home and take a few days with your family and forget everything you heard here today.”

“I just got here. What makes you think you can tell me what to do?”

“It’s just a recommendation, but if you don’t leave now, in about an hour you will be detained on site—indefinitely.”

“I’ve been home for the last two plus years spending time with my family. That’s how long it’s taken me to recover from the accident caused by NRAO management and their dedication to getting the job done at any cost.” Duane limped to a chair and sat. “I’m going to live with back pain and this limp the rest of my life just because someone wanted the VLA upgraded and didn’t want to spend the money necessary to do it right.”

He massaged his leg. “Hell, I just want to get back to work while I can. I know the President wants to cut all research spending and contract everything to Russia, China and India. This place will probably be next.” Duane stood, stopped for a second head drooped to his chest then left the office.

Striker watched Duane’s slow limping steps as he continued through the maintenance offices, pause to collect a backpack and then limp toward the exit.

Striker put his phone into scrambler mode then contacted General Norwell, on the Joint Chiefs of Staff, and explained the situation at NRAO. He received authorization to seal the installation and cutoff all external communications. The JCS was currently meeting to deal with the President’s current round of military budget cuts. General Norwell would brief the others when the meeting resumed in twenty minutes.

Striker called his headquarters. “Connect me to the duty officer.”

“This is Colonel Mathew Striker, authorization code delta bravo six x-ray Charlie hotel. Border Crossing, I say again, Border Crossing at NRAO. This is not a drill. This is not a drill. Immediate, full deployment authorized by Joint Chiefs. I need full installation containment ASAP.”

“Authenticate, delta foxtrot four.”

“Authentication, Juliet tango sierra golf three,” Striker answered giving the authentication code passed to him by General Norwell.

“Alpha and Bravo teams will be wheels up in fifteen, ETA one hour forty-five. Remainder of support team will be in place in six hours,” reported the duty officer.

Striker took a deep breath as he closed his phone.

The first two units of the containment team will be landing in an hour and forty-five minutes. In the meantime, I need to contact site security to disconnect the site’s cell tower and landlines.
I’ll order the gates sealed until we brief all personnel, and we get nondisclosure and security forms signed. Then if anyone leaks information, they can be charged with espionage.

Striker called site security and issued his orders. The sergeant operating the main desk balked at taking Strikers orders until he was informed a Border Crossing event was in play. Any locals or news crews intercepting his phone conversations would assume a Border Crossing event had something to do with drug smuggling or illegals crossing the Mexican border. They would not realize he had just activated the JCS plan to defend the United States from an invading alien force from space.

Wilkins returned to the office with a tray holding the recordings of the original transmissions. “If copies of these have been made, no one is admitting it.”

“Show me where I can listen to them…”

#

“Bel...Beldon, you home,” called Duane as he walked through the kitchen door.

“In my room Dad. I’m transmitting the last few pages of an English to Russian dictionary,” Beldon answered.

“Wait until I tell you what happened to me today. I was several miles down the highway coming home from NRAO when I spotted this formation of military helicopters flying in the direction of the observatory. I think the military knows about the
Universe Explorer
and is locking down the installation. I found out that Wilkins caught some of Saigg’s transmissions and called in a Colonel Striker from the Air Force.”

“What do they have for proof?” Bel asked.

“They had this whole tray of data modules all labeled and just waiting for Colonel Striker to get there. I swapped out the recordings for blanks when no one was looking. I even switched the original labels so the replacements look like the real thing. Then on the way home I knew I needed to get rid of the recordings before anyone could connect their disappearance to me.”