Read Crucible of a Species Online
Authors: Terrence Zavecz
Crucible of a Species
Praise for
Crucible of a Species
“In Terry Zavecz's breathtaking debut thriller, CRUCIBLE OF A SPECIES, humanity finds itself confronted by an unexpected future and a path that diverts through Earth's most violent past. And yet the author sees the human-dinosaur interaction through a new perspective - one that keeps the reader turning pages.”
--Steve Alten,
NY Times best-selling author
of MEG & VOSTOK
.
FOR:
Hailey Zavecz
A grandaughter who devours books, fiction or fact, but, unlike her grandfather, retains all in her beautiful mind.
and
Corey Zavecz –
My son & Hailey’s father
An engineer with the courage to go out and follow his own dream.
THE CRUCIBLE SERIES
Crucible of a Species
Forge of a Species
(coming soon)
A burning question
lies exposed in the ‘Fermi Paradox’ regarding humanity’s isolation in the universe. Physicist Enrico Fermi calculated that for each grain of sand in our world, there exist a hundred Earth-like planets in our universe. Yet, we find no trace of any civilization beyond our own. So, where are the extraterrestrials -- why are we alone?
Strangely related to the above, consider that while all birds are dinosaurs not all dinosaurs were the ancestors of today’s birds. Many extinct species existed who have no living members in our world; we can only imagine their behavior, sounds and appearance. However, our perception of them is not all fantasy. Studies of trace fossils, such as footprints, feather impressions and blood platelets, tell us that most dinosaurs were not the lumbering, lethargic beasts we visualized a decade ago but swift hot-blooded animals. Smart enough to nurture their young in families and even hunt in packs.
In this tale, I present an answer to the ‘Fermi Paradox’ and in doing so, an image of the ancient world as we currently envision it. I’ve restricted the types of plants, dinosaurs and other animals to those whose fossil evidence is found in and around the West-Texas and New Mexico areas some ninety-nine million years ago during the Mid-Cretaceous Period. Modern grass and broadleaf plants are just emerging and the major Cretaceous–Paleocene extinction of these past grand masters of the Earth is still some thirty-four million years in the future.
Terrence Zavecz
August 2015
Layton Key, FL
ISA - Argos Expedition to Tau Ceti
Consisting of 479 members as of May 15, 2036
Daniel Drake, Colonel USMC
Project & Expedition Director
Phillip Nolen, PhD
Director, Science Services
Michael Thompson, PhD
Director, Research
Adrian Lee
Captain of the Argos
Thomas Bradley
World Geographic Explorer-in-Residence
_________
Crew of the Argos
Thomas Dalmas, Lieutenant Executive Officer
Mia Waverly, Ensign Navigation
Aaron Sassaman, Ensign Helmsman
Braxton Johnson, Lieutenant Hunter Pilot
Andrew Dailey, Ensign Hunter Pilot
Mark Middleton, Ensign Hunter Pilot
Brittany Thornsen, Midshipman
Paul Petrika, Ensign Engineering
Daniel Meecham, CPO
Gorman (Cookie) Slap, CPO
Science Team
Katherine Mayden, Ph.D. – Molecular Biologist
Sandra Shieve, PhD – Geo-Physicist
Emil Anfrev – Robotics Mate
Venu Vellanki – Chief Programmer
USMC – Engineering Battalion
Alex Thrumbold, Lieutenant
Adjutant to the Colonel
Ester Esperanza, Lieutenant
Steve Martel, Master Sergeant
Frank Marshall, Sergeant Gunnery
Ryan Tyree, Corporal
Edward Saren, Private First Class
Tom Simpson, Private First Class
Sara Hsu, Private
Don Bush, Private
Patrick Kiely, Private
“By Means of Natural Selection
Of the Preservation of Favoured
Races in the Struggle for Life”
Subtitle of:
The Origin of Species
Charles Darwin 1858
No one
would have believed in the early years of the twenty-first century that our world was being governed keenly and closely by intelligences greater than humanity’s and yet as mortal as our own. Throughout our evolution, the human race remained the only species conscious of both the greater universe and our own selves. Yet, through the eons, the heavens seemed to remain distant, playing no noticeable part in the formative millennia of the sapiens species.
Did the intellectual awakening of our genus begin with the first human to look up in wonder at the heavens; was it the first use of a tool or the creation of fire?
Perhaps our arousal was an event more recent for no one until the mid-decades of the nineteenth century recognized the obvious truth that all species evolve, constantly changing to favor their chances of survival beneath the challenges of their environment. More than a million years of Homo sapient evolution passed before we grudgingly embraced the concept that an entire genus could vanish from existence. It took a century more to learn the most sinister lesson of survival, for a bland existence can be purchased by stagnation much as the lemmings of the arctic tundra that choose not to adapt but limit their species through self-immolation.
It was during our recent awakening that humanity first looked to the stars using technology greater than our native senses. For the first time our consciousness stretched to the most distant corners of the cosmos as we searched with radio-telescopes, photomultipliers and neutron detectors for life signs originating on innumerable suns and planets so very like our own.
Only then did humankind first suspect the wrongness of this universe in which our species exists.
The radio and technological emanations of civilization fly out unseen by our innate senses but they betray our existence like a babe crying in the wilderness to the most distant of stars. How could our presence be so obvious in a vast cosmos of Earth-like planets uncountable and yet we find not the least trace of other civilizations?
Where is everyone?
In 2032, our species stood on the threshold of the planetary system of its origin planning our next evolutionary advance into the interstellar cosmos. As we gathered for this first faltering outward step, there came an answer to our greatest question. It arrived in the form of gifts of knowledge from a mysterious extraterrestrial intelligence we chose to call the Asteri. The gift-givers communicated briefly. Their parting bequest was the technology for interstellar travel and with it came a single demand; Homo sapiens must visit them -- soon.
*~~*~~*~~*
ISA Skyport – Space Elevator:
Equatorial Pacific Ocean Terminus:
(0.0
o
N, -159.9
o
W):
0117(HST) 25- February-2036:
Desperation
,
even the searing fires of hatred cannot match its deadly ferocity. Hatred is calculating and therefore predictable, while desperation – the most fatal of emotions – is the last mindless flailing and irrational of responses.
Colonel Daniel Drake loathed the distraction of those thoughts, they were a personal weakness that pulled his focus from the coming task but then again … shit, waiting always was a bitch, too much time to think. It’s just that the scum coming in the darkest hours of this night involved -- well intel once again called them ‘protestors’ but this time they were described as desperate or to be more exact, ‘dangerously desperate’.
He nearly laughed aloud at the concept;
‘dangerously desperate protestors’, more desperate than those who assassinated my key staff members or donned a suicide vest? Damn it Drake, focus on the mission.
The colonel sat upright, struggling to appear the very antithesis of desperation as he searched the strangely calm, moonlit ocean. Inside, his soul thrummed under the savage assault of his rising tension and tonight even the tranquility of the ocean presented itself as abomination for the sea’s slow rise and fall urged a false serenity, one that threatened to dull the sharp edge he and his team needed to meet the coming threat.
Oddly enough, finding the protestors was the last thing he wanted.
Stranger still, his greatest fear was they might slip by unseen. In the colonel’s heart he knew their coming was indeed born of desperation for in a span of days, the Argos would launch. His people would then be free of the politics and special interests -- and free of dangerous scum such as these.
Little time remained for them to stop the expedition and ...
“Aw shit.”
Drake jolted as the simple, soft exclamation slithered across the restricted command channel of his tattoo communicator. The bitter memories it released echoed from his past, threatening to ignite the rage he hid inside. Outwardly, the man always shielded his emotions, his gaze never drifting from the deceptively peaceful Pacific where coming in stealth was a very real threat in the form of … well, intel had warned of an ‘escalated protest’ of Terminus Port.
Even if the magic of the communications device prevented others from hearing the transmission, her exclamation was a breach of protocol at a time when death could appear any second. Even if they blamed him for all those lost from the team, nothing justified this act of defiance, “Esperanza? You know better than that.”
Lieutenant Ester Esperanza replied, “Sorry, sir. Didn’t realize I transmitted … I mean, intel just confirmed they have a small nuke and …”
“Enough, Lieutenant. Keep alert; do your job.”
His ambition had driven him to accept this assignment as director of the Argos Project. Argos, an endeavor of greater significance than the Manhattan Project’s Atomic Bomb, a chance to lead scientists and military personnel in the creation and initial mission of humanity’s first starship, the Argos.
He fought for this posting over the objections of his family and the quiet opposition of his people. His family knew the assignment would bring lonely years of separation yet they faithfully followed his move to the new ISA Command Center. Less than three weeks later their bodies lay beneath the rubble of the town square, victims of the latest ‘escalated protest’ and his ambition. They were some of the first to fall to these extremists.
Since then, Drake’s world became this mission and he embraced it heart and soul. Self-discipline coldly rationalized these as old wounds, not something he need factor into his work. So once again, the muscular, six-foot two-inch marine colonel of engineers sucked in the pain, battered down the memories and intensified his search, newly stoked by a reawakened, unacknowledged loathing of all protestors.
As Project Director, he had no right being here on the sharp end but the security assets on this isolated, remote port were limited and warning came late leaving no time to shuttle in support. Fortunately, his team was already onsite and leading from behind was never his way.
Long swells of the Pacific rolled a thousand miles that evening before encountering the edges of the small manmade island. Isolated in international waters for safety and security, this strategically placed floating isle formed the Equatorial Terminus of the world’s first space elevator. Terminus, a major port where massive climbers transported goods up thirty thousand miles to the agency’s Skyport, a geosynchronous orbiting platform that for the past two years had been the recipient of thousands of tons of manufactured goods and supplies.
SkyPort’s existence marked the leading edge of an explosion in technological achievement that delivered solutions to the greatest problems of the world. These few years laid the foundation for an era of prosperity and promise for all humankind. Yet somehow, the blessings of peace remained ever elusive.
Seeking to quell these inner ramblings, Drake focused on a barely visible line of tautly bundled cables gleaming in the moonlight as they climbed into the tropical sky until their image melded with the star-studded vault. These tether-cables, travelled by the elevator’s climbers, softly hummed a changing melody in the humid trade wind, extracting from it a wispy trail of moonstruck vapor that lit the tether’s high passage to a distant point of bright-light thousands of miles skyward. That twinkling star was all the unaided eye could see of the International Space Agency’s Skyport and even Drake’s heart danced in the pride of this first achievement of his people.
The voice of Master Sergeant Steve Martel sounded in his ear, “Intel update, sir. Confirmed they carry a crew-served low yield nuclear device; ETA twelve minutes. Their transport is a refurbished nuclear submarine. Apparently they have deep pockets but not deep enough for a full weapons delivery system.”
Drake silently replied, “Understood Sergeant, a briefcase nuke means they’re going to hand-carry it right to the base of the cable if they want to do significant damage. Let’s pinpoint the exact site. Release the spider-drones.”
The easy way of boarding the station was across a sand-covered recreational beach on the far end. The drones, skimming across the station and the ocean’s surface like water sprites, quickly found the approaching terrorists. Apparently, they chose to land as close as possible to the cable base and that meant scaling the steep seawalls below the research center.
Drake repositioned his team, all the time growling to himself that this was a lousy place to confront terrorists but his options were limited.
Lieutenant Esperanza, a tall, slender woman with short-cropped black hair, moved silently across the far side of the ambush. Drake noted how Esperanza’s graceful movements somehow made the concept of a muscular woman very appealing. He immediately clamped down on the unwelcome thought as the lieutenant signaled their approach.
Vibrations soon rippled through the cerama-steel construction under their feet. Drake could easily have ended the threat given the vulnerable position the intruders placed themselves in, however he couldn’t take the chance they may have set a dead-man’s trigger in the back-pack holding the nuclear device.
Drake checked the sensors and sighed his disgust,
They’re amateurs, idealists more than ready to sacrifice their lives. Pros would have planned to survive -- wouldn’t be carrying packs with the level of hard radiation leakage showing on these sensors. We need to be very careful. ISA rules of engagement forbid outright killing of ‘protestors’. Unfortunately, stun-rifles are not effective weapons.
The faint image of an arm clothed in a black dive suit appeared at the roof’s edge quickly followed by the first protestor. The intruder scurried across the low slope, flexed a cramped arm and turned. He unclamped a coil from his belt and secured it before throwing the end down to those below. A second and then a third followed, unbuckled their safeties and established a perimeter.
Good form
, Drake thought,
they aren’t all amateurs.
Two more moved from the edge and knelt to begin setup of the device as he shut his eyes … hard.
A sharp snap accompanied the blinding flash, penetrating tightly-closed eyelids and leaving afterimages of veins and eye floaters. It stunned and blinded the terrorists but the edge of the roof shielded others still climbing. The report of a handgun split the air as angry rounds screamed past Drake, one of them striking the weapon in his hand. Its strap nearly dislocated his arm as the stunner skitted across the rooftop and out over the ocean.
The hollow-rumble of rapid shots from a stunner lit the night, savagely lifting one of the black-clad bodies up and over the edge. Another terrorist without a rifle charged blindly with knife drawn as his buddy dove for the backpack. They were less than a hundred yards from the cable anchor, close enough to sever even the hard exotic material of the tether. Close enough for them to lose control of the Skyport up in orbit. Thousands would die; the project would end.
Unarmed, Drake charged the dark figure still frantically setting up the bomb; reaction lowered his shoulder for the blow as he swung his arm up and into the intruder’s body to amplify the moment of impact. Drake’s rock-solid frame jarred as he struck the big guy at full thrust,. It lifted the terrorist, ripping air from the lungs in an explosive burst. Ignoring the gasping terrorist, the marine lunged for the backpack. His massive hand closed around the strap as a second protestor broadsided him.
New stars filled Drake’s world as pain shot across his spasmed diaphragm. He held his breath, grasping desperately with this new assailant.
Damn
, he thought,
the little guy hits like a hammer, good thing … ah, it’s a girl, explains a lot.
Drake swung his arm around, steel-like fingers wrapped around her neck and squeezed as he viciously pulled her around, her trachea shifted to the side as he cruelly slammed her to the deck. Soft lunar rays revealed deep blue eyes open wide in terror, her pulse beat wildly in the artery under Drake’s thumb and the black memories roared out from his depths. The colonel coldly stared into panicked eyes and squeezed, “There, there now little one. This is why most girls shouldn’t go into combat. Not enough body mass.”