alcohol, a favorite Marine recreational pastime. “That hatch has to weigh several tons. Did you see how fast it shut? It could have sliced one of us in half, easy.”
“Cut the chatter and stay alert,” the Gunny yelled. “We're on board uninvited—keep an eye out for possible hostiles. Just make sure they're armed and threatening before pointing a weapon at 'em.”
* * * * *
Hellfire! Now he had Marines on board the ship. OK, they are in the cargo hold, I can contain them there. “Folly, lock all doors and hatches that access the cargo hold. Do not allow anyone access to the cargo hold except the ship's officers.”
“As you wish, Captain. The cargo hold is now isolated from the rest of the ship. Should I discontinue environmental support as well?”
“What? No, let them keep breathing. I'll deal with our stowaways once we achieve orbit.” What an odd question, where had that come from? No matter, more pressing matters to handle. “Engineering, Bridge. Dr. Gupta, do we have engines?”
“Oh yes, Captain. They are working splendidly. The last round of adjustments did the trick.”
“Thank you, Doctor. Please secure your area for immediate takeoff. Mr. Vincent, activate the bottom repulsor array. Raise the ship, Mr. Vincent.”
“Activating bottom repulsors, Sir.” Muted crashing sounds from outside the ship accompanied a feeling of upward motion. The repulsors, as their name implied, push all matter in their vicinity away. Ask Dr. Gupta for an explanation and he would go on about gravitons from other branes adjacent to our own and modifying the curvature of local spacetime but, in effect, they generate negative gravity—a force that repels mass instead of attracting it.
Like gravity, the effect is mutual. As the repulsor array repelled the planet beneath the hull, an equal but opposite force pushed the ship upward. It also had an immediate effect on the scaffolding that had surrounded the ship while it was under construction. The decking that the Marines had just been standing on was crumpled and cast aside like tissue paper as the massive ship rose four meters into the air.
“It looks like the hangar doors have jammed, Sir,” Reported Bobby. The repulsors created a roaring sound as air was sucked from above the ship and blown outward below.
“Hmm, very well. Give me full forward shields, Mr. Medina. Mr. Danner, compensate for any displacement aft.” The ship mounted repulsor generators over its entire hull, which could be used to form a protective, gravitational barrier surrounding the entire vessel. The ship shuddered slightly, then steadied.
“Mr. Medina, sound the maneuvering alarm.” A whooping sound began that could be heard all over the ship.
“And now, if you please Mr. Vincent. We will need to ram through those doors. Ahead one quarter, take us out of the hangar.”
The Ranch House, Parker's Ranch
“So let me get this straight,” TK said to Chief Marshal Earl. “You want me to let you search my hangar looking for dangerous radiation, is that it?”
“I really don't need your permission, Mr. Parker. I'm just being polite. Those SWAT boys are about to enter your hangar, as you can see. Tell me, will they find something in there like, say, a rocket ship?”
“No they aren't,” said the Texas Ranger, standing at the window. A muffled whomp sound came from outside.
“Aren't what, Sid?” replied the Marshal, clearly annoyed.
“They aren't about to enter the hangar. Looks like all the windows just blew out and yer SWAT boys are all suckin' ground.”
“Huh?!” Marshal Earl's head whipped around.
Everyone in the room stared through the window at the hangar a half mile south of the ranch house. The windows along the first story of the building had all blown out, as the Ranger said, and it looked like the massive doors on the front of the hangar were slowly opening.
“Damn!” Marshal Earl, livid and red faced, slammed both hands on TK's desk and, leaning toward the
“Cut the chatter and stay alert,” the Gunny yelled. “We're on board uninvited—keep an eye out for possible hostiles. Just make sure they're armed and threatening before pointing a weapon at 'em.”
* * * * *
Hellfire! Now he had Marines on board the ship. OK, they are in the cargo hold, I can contain them there. “Folly, lock all doors and hatches that access the cargo hold. Do not allow anyone access to the cargo hold except the ship's officers.”
“As you wish, Captain. The cargo hold is now isolated from the rest of the ship. Should I discontinue environmental support as well?”
“What? No, let them keep breathing. I'll deal with our stowaways once we achieve orbit.” What an odd question, where had that come from? No matter, more pressing matters to handle. “Engineering, Bridge. Dr. Gupta, do we have engines?”
“Oh yes, Captain. They are working splendidly. The last round of adjustments did the trick.”
“Thank you, Doctor. Please secure your area for immediate takeoff. Mr. Vincent, activate the bottom repulsor array. Raise the ship, Mr. Vincent.”
“Activating bottom repulsors, Sir.” Muted crashing sounds from outside the ship accompanied a feeling of upward motion. The repulsors, as their name implied, push all matter in their vicinity away. Ask Dr. Gupta for an explanation and he would go on about gravitons from other branes adjacent to our own and modifying the curvature of local spacetime but, in effect, they generate negative gravity—a force that repels mass instead of attracting it.
Like gravity, the effect is mutual. As the repulsor array repelled the planet beneath the hull, an equal but opposite force pushed the ship upward. It also had an immediate effect on the scaffolding that had surrounded the ship while it was under construction. The decking that the Marines had just been standing on was crumpled and cast aside like tissue paper as the massive ship rose four meters into the air.
“It looks like the hangar doors have jammed, Sir,” Reported Bobby. The repulsors created a roaring sound as air was sucked from above the ship and blown outward below.
“Hmm, very well. Give me full forward shields, Mr. Medina. Mr. Danner, compensate for any displacement aft.” The ship mounted repulsor generators over its entire hull, which could be used to form a protective, gravitational barrier surrounding the entire vessel. The ship shuddered slightly, then steadied.
“Mr. Medina, sound the maneuvering alarm.” A whooping sound began that could be heard all over the ship.
“And now, if you please Mr. Vincent. We will need to ram through those doors. Ahead one quarter, take us out of the hangar.”
The Ranch House, Parker's Ranch
“So let me get this straight,” TK said to Chief Marshal Earl. “You want me to let you search my hangar looking for dangerous radiation, is that it?”
“I really don't need your permission, Mr. Parker. I'm just being polite. Those SWAT boys are about to enter your hangar, as you can see. Tell me, will they find something in there like, say, a rocket ship?”
“No they aren't,” said the Texas Ranger, standing at the window. A muffled whomp sound came from outside.
“Aren't what, Sid?” replied the Marshal, clearly annoyed.
“They aren't about to enter the hangar. Looks like all the windows just blew out and yer SWAT boys are all suckin' ground.”
“Huh?!” Marshal Earl's head whipped around.
Everyone in the room stared through the window at the hangar a half mile south of the ranch house. The windows along the first story of the building had all blown out, as the Ranger said, and it looked like the massive doors on the front of the hangar were slowly opening.
“Damn!” Marshal Earl, livid and red faced, slammed both hands on TK's desk and, leaning toward the
Similar Books
