Three

Amanda Boone's Peters

Description

Three includes three short science fiction stories: "Sandman" and the Twisted Trip, about jet planes battling tornadoes and a journey to find a missing scientist, The Viewer and the Missing Child, about a search for a little girl using techniques perfected by the Soviets and the CIA during the Cold War, and The Doorway to Nowhere, featuring a retired Physics professor and his calico cat, whose travels via a "wormhole" lead to an encounter with an otherworldly "Messenger".

..."Amanda Peters combines the familiar with the unfamiliar to create three science fiction stories that are unlike any before them – and they are entertaining and thought-provoking tales that are well worth the read." (NC starred review***)

Sujets

• Fiction
• Science Fiction
• Collections
• Anthologies

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 21 février 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781456608675
• Langue: English

Extrait

THREE
By
Amanda Peters
 


Aventine Press


Copyright 2012, Amanda Peters
All rights reserved
 
 
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
http://www.eBookIt.com
 
 
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-0867-5
 
 
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
 


Dedication
 
Dedicated to My Better Half,
 
To Our Extended Family,
 
And to Dreamers Everywhere.
 

 

Foreword
This book includes three science fiction stories that I haven’t published anywhere else. I know the title of the book – “ Three ” – is a little simplistic, but I wore myself out just thinking up titles for the three stories themselves. You’ll see what I mean when you check out the next page.
Each of these stories offers one or more concepts that I hope might have value in the “real world” – the world that you and I live in. The first story – about an Air Force pilot nicknamed “Sandman” – suggests a concept for battling tornadoes . (I wrote that story in 2006.) The second story – about a Remote Viewer named Reggie – provides a possible search technique for missing children . (I wrote that one in 2007.) The third story – about a “Doorway” – well, that one’s pretty far out there, but it does give you a possible explanation as to why our search for extraterrestrial intelligent life hasn’t turned up any candidates. (I finished that story just this year. What can I tell you? The older I get, the weirder I get.)
Regardless of whether the concepts in these stories have value or not, the stories should be entertaining. Right?
And only you, Dear Reade r, can decide whether they are.
I have my fingers crossed.
 
Amanda Peters
May, 2009
************
I: “SANDMAN” AND THE TWISTED TRIP
 

 
 
He rides the wind,
Above the clouds,
Where no one
Can see…
 
Except God.
Anon.
 

Introduction
As a small fry growing up in the Midwest, I had a fascination and a fear about two things in particular – not counting the boogey man, of course. I was fascinated by tornadoes and UFO’s, and I was fearful that one or the other might suddenly swoop down out of the clouds and carry me away without warning.
Now that I’ve grown up, I am still fascinated, but I’m less fearful – at least about tornadoes and UFO’s (I’ve discovered other things to be afraid of as an adult). I’ve moved away from those areas where tornadoes routinely appear, and while I believe there may be such things as UFO’s, I haven’t seen one, and I doubt that I ever will.
But the fascination…
I can’t help wondering why we haven’t found a way to battle those hellish twisters. There must be something we can do, isn’t there? But what might that be?
And the UFO’s…We keep hearing accounts about people who see UFO’s, but nobody seems to know where they come from. Where might that be?
The story you are about to read – assuming you’re still with me – suggests one answer for each of those two questions.
 
Amanda
************
 

1.
“SCRAMBLE! SCRAMBLE! SCRAMBLE! THIS IS AN F5 SCRAMBLE FOR SECTOR 22! I SAY AGAIN: THIS IS AN F5 SCRAMBLE FOR SECTOR 22! SCRAMBLE! SCRAMBLE! SCRAMBLE!”
The scramble alert was still blaring as Major James “Sandman” Douglas burst out of the Rantoul Ready Room and ran towards the F-16 Falcons – the jet aircraft – lining the nearest runway. He looked quickly at the mountainous thunderheads threatening “Sector 22” – the towns of Bloomington, Decatur, and Champaign-Urbana, Illinois. It was definitely an ugly-looking storm. Black and purple clouds towered over the trees and the maintenance hangars west of the runways. Thick, jagged bolts of lightning were flashing everywhere. The first storm in May, and it was a category “F5” – extremely violent. To make matters worse, the storm threatened the airbase itself: the Rantoul Aviation Center.
Jim and the other F-16 pilots hurriedly strapped themselves into their cockpits. Their Weapons Systems Officers quickly checked and armed the Concussion Missiles carried by each of the Falcons.
A light rain started to fall, and Rantoul’s warning sirens began wailing.
The storm was coming in fast.
One by one, the jets taxied into their positions on the runway. Jim rolled up behind the right wing of Colonel Donald “Big D” Jessup – the Squadron Leader. Captain Robert “Turbo” Nelson taxied up behind Jessup’s left wing, next to Jim. All of the other pilots took positions behind Jim and Turbo, forming a large triangle, with Jessup at the tip.
Jessup wasted no time. He immediately radioed the Rantoul Control Tower, and requested clearance for the Squadron’s takeoff.
“Rantoul Tower: Air Force Echo Squadron ready for takeoff on Runway One-Niner. Over.” Jessup’s voice was crisp, clear, and calm. Jessup was always that way, no matter what was happening.
“Roger, Echo Squadron. You’re cleared for takeoff. Wind three-five knots...”
The wind was picking up. Visibility was falling. The warning sirens were screaming. The sky overhead was growing darker.
Finally, Echo Squadron was moving. Sheets of rain pummeled them now, and the sky was inky black, with flash after flash of lightning. Dime-sized hailstones bounced off the Falcons as they taxied down the runway. Trees on either side of the runway thrashed in the wind, throwing off branches that slammed into the nearest buildings. As the jets built up speed, everything became a blur – everything except a massive thunderhead just in front of them.
“Echo Leader to Squadron.” Jessup’s voice crackled in Jim’s ear. “Watch this thunderhead in front of us. Bank hard right out of the pocket and rendezvous at 22 Northwest. Everybody copy?”
“Echo Two copies,” Jim replied. The Squadron was in a boiling mass of clouds now, still climbing, but without visibility. As the planes ascended, the wind shears bounced them like river buoys, despite the jets’ powerful engines – first up… then left…then down…then up again...
Then suddenly, bright sunlight, clear blue sky, and no buffeting. They were on top of the storm.
Jim took a deep breath, relaxed, and looked around. … God, I love it up here, he thought to himself. These colors, these textures… they remind me of the magnificent canyons of Arizona... except these “canyons” are constantly changing, minute to minute, horizon to horizon. It’s really fantastic... It’s a shame I don’t have anybody to share it with…somebody at home... wherever home is...
“Echo Leader to Squadron.” Jessup was calling again. They’d arrived at the rendezvous point, and Jessup had routinely brought the Squadron full circle, so the pilots could fly their missile runs head-on against the huge, menacing row of thunderheads.
“Two bogies forming at ten o’clock,” Jessup announced.
Jim glanced quickly to his left – to the “ten o’clock” position. Just as Jessup was saying: two tornado funnels, just forming – not yet stable, and not yet large.
“Discretionary launches on three runs,” Jessup instructed. “Rendezvous after three. Left patterns. Echo Leader out.”
One by one, the Echo pilots rolled their Falcons out of formation and into the first missile run. Within seconds, both of the target tornadoes were being tracked by the sophisticated weapons systems on-board each of the F-16’s. As the jets streaked towards the two funnels, ever-changing values of “Time-to-Target” and “Missile-Fuse-Settings” were computed and displayed in each cockpit. Then, one after the other, the jets spat their Concussion Missiles and banked sharply to the left. As each jet sped away, its missiles ran straight and true to the points where the two tornado funnels were connected to their parent thunderheads. Then flash after flash , the missiles exploded, “slapping” at the funnels like some giant hand – preventing the funnels from stabilizing… preventing the tornadoes from reaching the earth below.

A quick circle back, and the Echo pilots began a second missile run. Just as before, each of the F-16’s weapons systems locked onto the two target funnels. Again, the jets streaked towards the two tornadoes, spat their Concussion Missiles, and banked sharply to the left...
Then suddenly, something – Jim couldn’t identify what – flew at him from his three o’clock position. There were the sounds of metal-smashing-metal, loud cockpit alarms, and a sputtering jet engine. Jim’s F-16 twisted and lunged like some powerful, wounded animal. Every warning light in his cockpit flashed cherry-red. His plane nosed into a steep dive, and careened away from the rest of the Squadron. Jim struggled to regain control, but his Falcon fought every move he made. He attempted to broadcast an emergency “May-Day” call, but his radio was dead – completely silent.
Nothing on his aircraft was working. Nothing.
The only thing left for Jim to do was eject, to abandon his wounded F-16, and to hope it didn’t kill anyone when it crashed.
But then…
It was over as quickly as it had started. All of his instruments, all of his alarms, all of his controls – everything – returned to normal. Even his engine returned to normal – no flame-out, no problem of any kind.
Jim pulled the Falcon out of its steep dive as if the whole event were simply a normal combat maneuver. It was as if nothing had happened.
Jim shook his head in disbelief. …What the living hell… What just happened? What was that thing? What could cause a Falcon to…
“Turbo to Sandman, Turbo to Sandman: Come on back. Over.” The message blasted from Jim’s radio, startling him at first. “Turbo to Sandman, Turbo to Sandman. Please respond.”
It was “Turbo” Nelson. Jessup must have sent him. … That Jessup doesn’t miss a thing. Damned good Squadron Leader. Well, I’d better talk to Turbo before he blows a gasket...
Jim responded as calmly as he could. “Sandman back. What’s up, Turbo?”
“What’s up? What the hell