Galactic Storm Read online

  * * *

  She drifted through a psychedelic airport, wearing a tie-dyed sheet and yellow flowers in her hair. She carried more of them, handing them out as someone banged a tambourine. A strange female approached wearing robes of spun gold. Her face hid behind a white-gold mask with emeralds for eyes.

  The woman accepted a flower. “Thank you, Child of Earth. It’s lovely.”

  “Smells good, too,” Max said.

  “Not through this mask.”

  “You could take it off.”

  “You might not like what’s underneath.”

  “What’s under there?”

  “Can you face terrors deeper than your heart? Will you lose humanity to save humanity?”

  Max’s brow furrowed. “I don’t understand.”

  “I know, and there’s little time. When you do understand, you won’t need me to remove the mask—you’ll know the face it hides.”

  There was a physical jarring. The whole airport jumped several feet into the air.

  * * *

  Her Dad’s voice reached her. “Oops. Took that curb harder than I meant to.” The car rolled on a little more, turning. “Decided what you want?”

  “What’s goin’ on?” Max muttered.

  Tommy said, “Dad’s indulging you because of your near-death experience, and Mom doesn’t want to cook.”

  Max frowned. “I thought we brought sandwiches along.”

  “They got eaten,” Tommy said.

  Max didn’t have to ask who’d gobbled more than his fair share. Her brother’s bottomless stomach was legendary. According to rumor, the all-you-can-eat buffets paid him to stay away. Max contented herself with “Oinking,” just loud enough for him to hear.

  He glared.

  She subsided with a final “Oink.”

  “What do you want, Max?” her father asked.

  She looked at the menu board to see which drive-through they were at. Maxie Burger, her favorite! When a child, her dad had said the place had been named after her. She’d believed him for years. “I’ll have a Maxie bacon-cheese burger, mayo, no onions, onion rings on the side, and a cherry-citrus slush.”

  “I’ll have the same thing,” Tommy said, “with a double-cheese burger, fries, and an orange cola on the side.”

  In the rearview mirror, Max saw her father stare with disbelief at his son. Her father shrugged and placed the family order over the intercom. A few minutes later, they pulled up to the window. The drive-thru person inside was a middle-aged man with a bad comb-over. He stuck his head out the window, smiled, and waved. “Hi, Bill, Marsha, Tommy…and how’s my favorite god-daughter?”

  Your only god-daughter.

  Grinning, Max rolled down her window and poked her head out. “Mr. Chan! Hi! I’m fine. How’s business?”

  “Can’t complain. Hey Bill…put your wallet away. Your money’s no good here. Just a second…” He withdrew and returned a moment later, extending heavy sacks. “Here you go. Enjoy!”

  “Thanks.” Bill gathered the bags, passing them around. “See you on the golf course Saturday?”

  “Not this weekend,” Mr. Chan said. “Got Reserves. You folks take it easy.”

  As they pulled away, Max waved again and dug into her onion rings.

  “Free food!” Tommy smiled at her. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

  Max ignored him, chomping, watching the houses sweep past her window. She finished her rings as they reached home. Gathering up the rest of her lunch, she slid out of the car, shaking out her still damp hair, clutching the blanket tighter to present a more tragic image. She looked over at her Mother. “Momma, I’m kinda tired. Do you mind if I just take a shower and go to bed?”

  “Sure, Honey. Go ahead.”

  Tommy climbed out the other side of the car. “There’s still the station-wagon to unload, stuff to put away.”

  “I’m sure you can handle it,” Dad said. “Your sister’s been through a lot today.” He closed his car door and hurried toward the house.

  Tommy sighed in defeat. “Sure. I’ve got it covered.”

  Max trudged to the house. From the front hall, she heard the TV blaring. She left the blanket, put her coat away, and advanced to the bottom of the stairs, gazing into the living room. Her father had settled into his black leather recliner to cheer his team on, and curse the blindness of the referees. She smiled, seeing him bounce, stomping feet in outrage. She was about to turn and climb the stairs when a newsbreak interrupted the game. Her dad stifled a curse before it got completely away. He glared at the TV, muttering about a socialist conspiracy to undermine football.

  “We interrupt this program to bring you a special bulletin from the White House press room.”

  Max moved into the living room where she could see. The TV showed a podium braced by a monstrous set of flags. Speaking was a man with wire-frame glasses, and thinning hair. He wore a dark blue suit. The writing on the bottom of the screen indicated he was the Press Secretary for the President. An off-camera reporter spoke in a stage whisper. “The President is about to appear. Here he comes now.”

  Tall, lanky, lips pressed in a hard, straight line, the President approached the podium. “I am going to make a statement, giving you all the information I can at this time.” His eyes lifted from the reporters to a teleprompter. “My fellow Americans, today we stand at the brink of a new era for our country…and our planet. NASA informs me that numerous, large-scale objects have entered our solar system on a direct course for Earth. This event is unprecedented in human history. We believe these to be vessels of unknown origin.

  “There has been no message, but we remain hopeful of peaceful contact. Still, because of the possibility of threat, we are compelled to take unprecedented measures. At this time, I am joining other leaders around the world in declaring a state of martial law is now in effect across the planet. Within our borders, I have ordered the activation of all National Guard and military reserve units to preserve the safety of our citizens and quell dangerous panic should it arise.

  “Until we can be ascertain the intentions of these visitors, all traffic by air is restricted to military flights. A dusk-to-dawn curfew is in place throughout our nation. It is the hope of all world leaders that these advanced beings, have come on a benevolent mission. We stand ready to offer the open hand of friendship.

  “I am asking you, my fellow Americans, to cooperate with local authorities so we can all get safely through this uncertain time with grace and dignity intact. It is hoped that the daily lives of citizen will not be unduly impacted.”

  Max clutched her blanket and lunch. Her head whirling with confusion, a muddle she cleared by sheer force of will. My necklace came as a meteor, falling from space, and now—aliens show up. There’s gotta be a connection?

  Tommy staggered up to her, a cooler in his arms. “What’s goin’ on?”

  “Alien invasion,” Max mumbled.

  “Hmmmm.” He put on a thoughtful expression. “Maybe I should buy fresh batteries for my light saber.”

  “You do that. I need a hot shower.” She went upstairs to her room, stripped out of wet clothes, and into her traffic-light yellow, terrycloth robe. It had been a present from her grandma last Christmas. She left her room and went down the hall to the bathroom she shared with her brother. She turned the shower on and waited a minute, adjusting the water as it warmed. She stripped off the robe and laid it on the sink’s counter. Max stepped into the steamy shower and sighed.

  Heaven!

  The shower massager drove needles of warm water into Max’s back. With a sigh of physical pleasure, she sluiced ocean salt from her skin. Closing her eyes, she faced the water stream. It combed her hair and lightly stung her face. She soaped, shampooed, and rinsed, bringing her showering to a happy conclusion.

  The shower curtain was covered with pink flamingos with purple ribbons around their necks. They watched her, detached, clinical, smiling at their own so-amusing thoughts. Max taught them a lesson, crumpling
them into plastic folds as she slid the curtain aside. Stepping onto a fuzzy mat, she grabbed a large, plush towel and dried off. A smaller towel absorbed moisture from her hair, becoming a wrap. She slid into her robe, belted it, and returned to the sanctuary of her room where she exchanged the robe for black pajamas with a pattern of pink crossbones under a cat’s head. The cat’s face sported an eye-patch.

  Pirate Kitty was her favorite anime. In her dresser, she had more merchandise from the show: pink and black tee-shirts, and the courage to wear them in public.

  Plopping onto her bed, she attacked her sacked lunch, savoring the synergy of flavors. Nothin’ like bein’ yanked out of the jaws of Death to make you appreciate a cold burger.

  A few minutes later, she disposed of her trash on the way to the window blinds. She paused with the draw-cord in her hand. There was something funny about the tangerine-red light of the evening sun. It seemed richer, edgier—as if the sun were uncertain of which shade to present and was trying out various options. Shrugging it off, she closed the blinds and turned. Mixed in with the usual colors of her room, she saw a shifting mesh in the air, a silvery white that shaded into graphite gray at the edges of sight.

  The air congealed into a cold, dark fog. Max turned her head toward the walls. Through the murk, she noticed hazy lines of pale blue through the surfaces, running from one electrical outlet to another.

  Max closed her eyes tightly. “This is not happening!”

  She opened her eyes, turning to face the nightstand where she’d left the necklace during her shower. Her gaze settled on a ball of gold that seemed collapsed, spiraling inward on itself, a vortex that tempted her toward a new dimension. She sensed that to fall into the stone would open realities her mind could buckle under. She wrenched her gaze away and squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, giving a sigh of relief as the usual color values returned. Her brow furrowed.

  I don’t understand what’s wrong with me. It’s got to be the necklace affecting me. Her heart started to beat faster. Her eyes widened in frightened speculation. Maybe it’s radiation poisoning. The necklace could be scrambling my brain cells. My DNA! I could one day wind up with two-kids…or something. Max returned to her bed, settling with an abstracted flounce. She chewed her lip and stared resolutely into a private distance. Gotta stay frosty. Freakin’ out isn’t goin’ to help. There’s gotta be some simple test… That’s it!

  She drew a deep breath and bounced to her feet. She gathered the Star from off the nightstand, picking it up by the chain, and hurried down the hall to her brother’s room. She burst in and caught him drooling over models on a new Victoria’s Secrets calendar.

  He glared at the intrusion. “The door’s there for a reason. You’re supposed to knock and await permission before entering my sovereignty.”

  “Does Mom know you’re ogling that?” Max asked.

  “And how would that be any of your business, shrimp? What do you want, anyway, Pirate Kitty?”

  “That clicky thing dad gave you.”

  Tommy’s eyes were momentarily blank with incomprehension. “You mean the Geiger counter? What for?”

  “I just need to see it.”

  “Knock yourself out. Bottom right drawer of the dresser, on top of the college catalogs I’ve been collecting.”

  Max hurried over to the drawer, opened it, and extracted the gray steel box. There was a coiled length of cord connecting it to a small microphone-sized cylinder. A toggle switch on the box had a dark red light next to it. She flipped the switch and the light burned a bright red. “I’ve got power. What’s next?”

  “It’s automatic. Point the wand and the box will click in the presence of radiation. I’m all out of weapon-grade plutonium or you’d hear it clattering now. Turn on the TV. The Geiger will detect its low-level radiation.”

  Max looked on top of the dresser at Tommy’s portable TV. She turned it on and moved the wand across the screen. The black box emitted a steady stream of clicks. “It’s working.”

  “Of course it is. Thoroughly-Competent-Professional is my middle name.”

  “Seems a little long. I’d shorten it if I were you.”

  He continued as if she hadn’t interrupted. “Everything I have is properly maintained and ready for instant use. I’d have been a Boy Scout if I hadn’t preferred misspending my youth.”

  Max turned the TV off and casually moved the wand so it neared the necklace. The detector remained silent. With a sigh of relief, she turned off the Geiger counter and returned the device to the drawer. Max walked to the door and paused there.

  “Thanks. You can get back to improving your mind now.” She ducked out, letting the door catch the pillow Tommy hurled at her. His words followed her through the door. “You were adopted from another planet, you know? And Mom likes me best!”

  Max stuck her head back into the lion’s den, smiling warmly. “You missed.” She ducked back out again, shutting the door on a second pillow. She hummed a little song heading toward her room. The sound died as her foot failed to touch anything, but still took her weight.

  Oh, now what?

  Max looked down. Her foot was anchored a few inches off the floor. Her next step was automatic. Her other foot also failed to touch carpet. She treaded air, carried forward by momentum in defiance of gravity. The air around her felt syrupy, hazing green with the in-pouring light of some extra-dimensional space that normally went unnoticed.

  I’m ready for my padded cell now.

  As she reached her door, weight returned. Gravity renewed its grasp, and Max dropped to the floor and stumbled. She recaptured her balance, waving arms frantically like an amateur tightrope walker. The necklace swung wildly on its chain. The air cleared.

  With her heart hammering away inside her, Max went to her bedroom and sat on her bed. Motionless, she heroically resisted the impulse to cry. When her dejected posture became too uncomfortable, she stood, set the necklace on her nightstand, and slid between the sheets. Her head sunk into her pillow, seeking the relief of sleep. It took a while for her whirling thoughts to finally subside, and for darkness to claim her.

  TWO

  On the bridge of the Fist-of-Peace, the view screen showed absolute darkness except for a spot in the lower right corner where a digital chronometers kept time. The first clock was frozen, recording the moment the ship had collapsed local space—leaving the universe behind. If all went well, the vessel would be returning to the same moment, just somewhere else. The second chronometer showed the current passage of ship-board time. Commander Hardrune tried not to think about negative time and non-dimensionality, about moving the universe around because it was easier than moving the ship across lightyears. Poly-dimensional math made his head hurt; he left such matters to Captain Raio and the mechamorph navigators.

  Tsuu, the on-duty bridge navigator, sat motionless at his station. A white skin of polytetrafluroethalene sheathed his metallic arms and legs. Invisibly linked by an internal mechanism, he didn’t need manual contact to operate his station. The controls were only there in case an emergency required an organic to take over the station. He said, “Calculations for reemergence into dimensional space are complete, Captain. I am downloading my data to engineering.”

  Wrapped in thought, Captain Raio nodded absently from the swiveling captain’s chair. His compound eyes reflected the console lights. Digitized on a tablet, ship reports lay neglected in his lap.

  Representing half-a-dozen League worlds, the bridge crew maintained a respectful silence except for words needed to do their jobs. If the Old Man wanted to drink deep thoughts and ponder the mysteries of the universe from his bridge chair while the ship hung literally nowhere, well—that was his business, and perfectly all right.

  Sitting next to the captain, Hardrune’s six-hundred pounds of chiseled muscle was tightly packed into his chair. His natural skin tone was a delicate coral pink. The color contrasted nicely with the midnight-blue leather body-sheath he wore. League ranking symbols were splashed across h
is chest, a pattern of four interlocking golden rings. The captain only wore three such rings.

  Looking over, Hardrune found the tablet text indecipherable. A simple laser treatment could have optimized his sight, but he had yet to find time between missions. Besides, he thought his blue-tinted reading glasses—currently stowed in a pouch on his belt—lent him an air of refinement he was loath to surrender. Such peculiarities made the crew stare at him askance now and then. He didn’t care. The Light Born were all supposed to be a little strange anyway.

  Speaking into his armrest comm, Captain Raio’s thin voice seemed frail, though it did not break. “Engineering, bring us back.”

  Engineering responded; a voice came out of the chair’s arm. “Aye, Sir. Quantum shell is deployed. Dimensional space is reforming.” There was a long break. “We’re back, Captain. The micro-black hole is in containment. Bridge has helm control again.”

  You’d think there’d be something to feel or sense, popping in and out of the continuum like this, Hardrune thought. I’ve never understood how the quantum shell we generate keeps transition shock from piercing the hull.

  “Tsuu,” the captain called, “is the Star’s energy wake still viable?”

  The mechamorph consulted his sensors before responding. “Aye, Sir. Local space still resonates with the quantum signature. The Star has been through here, recently.

  Extrapolated course leads to the yellow dwarf-star system just ahead. It has nine planets, a few smaller bodies, comets, and an asteroid belt where its fifth planet broke apart.

  “Reverse drive,” Captain Raio ordered. “Begin cutting sub-light velocity, and stay on the energy trail that brought us here.”

  “Sir, we’re not the first to get here,” the mechamorph reported. “Readings show that other League vessels have reemerged in the area ahead of us.”

  “Catch up to them,” the captain ordered.

  Yes! Hardrune thought, Now that the Star is passing to a new Guardian, everything we know can be swept away in a moment. He thrust himself out of his chair, turning toward Captain Raio. “I’ll be at the ship’s shrine if you need me.”