Untitled Story by Benjamin Vander Jagt

    Preface:

    I don't really have any way to show how deep the story goes in just the first chapter.  This chapter is a satisfying story in itself, even though it's only the beginning of a rich story.

    Legal information and contact information is listed at the bottom.

    (Note: For all you Planeshift fans, the story is partly influenced by the very popular Enkidukai race from that game.  You won't see any Planeshift influence in this first chapter, though.  Also, for those who know me, you'll see the influence from carburetor cleaner right away.  ;-)

    Chapter One:

    Mission Control: "Good morning, SDI One.  I trust you had a pleasant night.  Over."

    SDI Station: "And good morning, Mission Control.  Why yes indeed it was a pleasant night.  How did you know?  Over."

    Mission Control: "'cause we just had forty tornadoes last night.  We knew there just couldn't be that many bad vibes here without you lazy bums getting the flipside of it.  That's okay, though.  We'll get you back today.  The sun is shining and the sky is clear!  Over."

    SDI Station: "I hate to break it to ya, but the sun is shining brighter and the sky is clearer up here.  Over."

    Mission Control: "Dang it!  Yeah, we'll just see how lucky you are when your shift is up in another five weeks.  You guys get to try out our new re-entry system.  Over."

    SDI Station: "As long as you do all the work and guide us in, what do I care?  The kick..over...and it's gooood!"

    Mission Control: "Guys, big chief's coming.  Time to sound busy!  Over."

    Silence.

    Mission Control: "This is Mission Control to SDI One.  Come in, SDI One.  Over."

    Mission Control: "Hey guys, the CO's gone, you can speak up now.  Over."

    Mission Doctor on Earth: "WOAH, I've got flatline on Ted.  I repeat, flatline on Ted, now Barbara.  Flatline on Ted and Barbara!"

    An alarm shook everyone up from slouching in their chairs.  The CO ran directly into the room, holding an empty foam cup he didn't have time to fill.

    CO: "Okay, everyone wake up and ready."

    Mission Control: "Come in, SDI One.  Respond.  Over!"

    Mission Control was a hectic flurry with departments coordinating with other departments.

    Mission Control: "This is Mission Control, do you read me?  Over."

    CO: "Did we lose signal?  Bird hit the antenna?"

    Mission Doctor: "No, sir.  We have positive pulse signal on Gene, dropping rapidly."

    CO: "Environment?"

    Mission Doctor: "Environment reads normal, elevated temperature.  The fire control system has been activated."

    CO: "Decompression?"

    Mission Doctor: "Air pressure is good.  I'm sorry, sir, they have good environment."

    Mission Control: "Anyone, respond!"

    Mission Doctor: "I now have flatline on all four!"

    CO: "Alarms?"

    Telemetrics: "Aft airlock has been opened."

    CO: "Inside door or outside door?"

    Telemetrics: "Both...sir."

    (Background: The year is 2010.  The war on terrorism rages on, seeming almost as futile as the war on drugs.  No matter how many weapons depots are destroyed, no matter how many terrorists are captured or killed, the terrorists just seem to strengthen.  Various terror groups, though seemingly poorly funded, now have intercontinental nuclear missiles.  The Reagan era Strategic Defense Initiative is now a major military priority.  Thankfully, no attack has succeeded.)

    The meeting began with composure.  Everyone was concerned, but this was a team that always stayed cool and in control.  The President set out his trademark stack of about ten sheets of printer paper, which he would scribble on in various directions.  The Secretary of Defense just stood behind his chair, waiting for the CO to arrive so that he could ascertain what the mood will be.

    To the head of the table came the NASA Chief of Operations, Charles O'reilly.  Of course, everyone called him "C.O.".  It was like being on a first name basis and a subordinate basis at the same time.  Ever since the prior year, his position had been diminished to simply being a cabinetmember, and he needed to regain his ego and self respect somewhere.  Here he was, sitting with the President of the United States ready to hear anything and everything he had to say.  The CO scooted his chair and shuffled his papers, the Secretary of Defense sat down, and all heads were aimed at the head of the table.  CO leaned back on his chair and clicked his pen confidently as he began, "At 0458, there was an unscheduled release of the outer aft airlock on Strategic Defense One.  At 0500, the crew was given a wakeup call.  At 0501, there was an unscheduled release of the inner airlock.  At 0502, we lost communication with SDI One.  There had been no suspicious radio activity.  The crew had just made small talk with Mission Control, when communication abruptly halted.  At 0503, Ted and Barbara's lifevests returned flatline.  Automatic defibrillation failed to revive them.  Immediately afterwards, the fire control system was activated.  At 0504, Lenny and Michael flatlined.  Defib. failed to revive them.  The signal from the lifevests weakened, and by 0556, the lifevests lost contact with the ship computer.  The lifevests transmitted strong battery charge, so they must have lost signal due to distance."
    The President put his hands up in frustration, his paper still blank, and asked, "Forgive me for not putting two and two together, CO, but what happened?  You look as though you know."
    "Yes, Mr. President, I do know.  At 0458, an unidentified unfriendly docked with SDI one, broke into the inner airlock at 0501, dumped my crew outside."
    The Defense Secretary was sitting up, rubbing the knuckles on his right fist.  "What caused the fire control system to activate?"
    The CO responded, "Since guns would risk decompression, and since the crew had all been highly trained in hand-to-hand combat, the intruders, who we can only assume to be terrorists, simply roasted my men and dumped them outside."
    The President began writing furiously on his pad of paper.
    The Secretary of Defense began rocking back and clicking his pen in the same way that CO had.  "Sounds logical to me.  Before we can plan a strike, we'll need some photos and x-rays.  Do you have anything?"
    CO, "Sorry, but photos are taken every five minutes and whenever an alarm is triggered, and the attackers were in and out before then.  You can see here the photo that was taken when the fire control system was triggered.  You can clearly see the long pillar flame and the black smoke, indicating it was a very fuel-rich combustion.  You can also see that the 0505 photo is completely black.  It's possible that the camera was broken or that the lights were turned off, but most likely the former."
    The President began, "I see here that the outer door is closed.  Why is that?  Also, why does this pillar of flame look like it's heading towards the airlock?"
    CO, "I'm sorry, Mr. President, but my best explanation is that they're unexplainable discrepancies.  Perhaps during the attack the crew was shuffled around.  Who knows why the outer door is closed.  Perhaps the computer was timed to close the door.  Maybe the attackers expected to get in and out without triggering any alarms."
    President, "Have you examined your onboard video?"
    Defense Secretary, "Mr. President, the onboard video was disconnected at my request.  All our communications with Strategic Defense One were encrypted with one kilobyte encryption except for the video feed.  The video feed was only encrypted at 128 bit, and that posed a possible security threat."
    President, "I understand.  That seems a sensible thing to do.  Now, how could some terrorists succeed in pulling off such an attack?  I don't even think our own boys could plan something like that.  Dock, break in through two multi-alloy plate airlocks, and kill four well-rested, highly trained and armed marines?"
    CO and the Secretary of Defense almost simultaneously sat forward in their chairs and turned to face the President.  The CO began, "Sir, I strongly recommend we send up another SDI immediately."  The Defense Secretary continued, "Yes, I agree.  We know that several terrorist groups have orbital nuclear warhead capabilities.  If this attack were in fact their doing, then they can only have been planning to fire missiles that we can't disable.  We must send up another SDI with a heavily armed crew.  We can't let them catch us unprepared again."
    President, "Alright, send up a replacement station and crew.  We can't be sure that SDI One still has the same defense capabilities we sent it up with.  Be sure to send more than just men with guns, though.  Send an extra technician in case we need to make security modifications on the fly.  Until we have more information, nobody is to to plan any strikes or tell the media anything.  You got that?  You tell them that the crew has died seemingly accidentally, there was a fire, and it's under investigation.  That's most likely what the attackers wanted us to think."

    CO began selecting crewmembers.  Sixteen crewmembers would be heavily armed marines.  There was no question as to the four non-military members.  He called the NASA doctors, psychoanalysts, and testers to verify his selections.  Liz and Jeff were working in mission control, and had been in space within the last six months, so all they needed was a physical checkup.  Jeff, their competent leader, was also an experienced pilot and highly admired and respected among all the .  Liz seemed like just another astronaut, but her medical expertise was far greater than anyone really gave her credit for.  She was always very happy-go-lucky, so the respect she was not given, simply because she didn't look like a geek, never bothered her enough to lose her smile.  Brian's personality was, well, odd.  He tried his best to act normal and average around his non-nerd teammates.  Bruce and Brian had worked as teammates two years ago, so their records needed to be updated.

    Bruce's personality reflected that of an automechanic, not a computer technician.  He could outthink any certified computer tech, as well as outdrink, outfight, and outbelch.  Bruce was working in the NASA vehicles shop, changing the air cleaners of small transporters so that they could be used in the desert and adding top-of-the-line computers to cars and tanks that were made before he was born.  Bruce was holding some electrical connections together with his left hand when the phone rang.  He let go of the wires to answer the phone, and as soon as he let go, a 12 volt power wire grounded with the chassis and started getting hot.  "This is Bruce in vehicle maintenance," he answered.
    "Hi, this is Dr. Kleinhaus in recruitment psychoanalysis.  How's it going?"
    "Oh, moods are down considering the accident.  A healthy amount of crying."
    "I'm calling regarding recruiting you for our replacement crew."
    Bruce joked, "To make sure I haven't gone insane in the last two years, right?"
    The doctor replied, "Yeah, but we can probably do this over the phone.  There's no need to make a trip to the office.  Do you have a few minutes?"
    The crossed wire finally heated up to a flame; in fact, a big flame.  Considering Bruce had just sprayed a solvent on the electrical connectors of the $50,000 computer he was installing, he was about to have an expensive and embarassing problem on his hands.  Acting as unbothered as possible, while talking to the shrink, he said, "Um, would you hold on for just a minute?"  He set down the portable phone and screamed, "Fire!"  He grabbed the computer he was working on and placed it safely out of the way.  Another mechanic just showing up to work took the fire extinguisher out of his car and put out the flame.  The large flame was extinguished, and the mechanics stood speechless as they looked at an aerosol can of solvent that was sitting right in the middle of the inferno.
    Bruce swallowed and composed himself and reached for where he thought he had placed the phone.  It wasn't there!  He misplaced it!  Then he had a brilliant idea.  He started shouting loudly, "Doctor Kleinhaus, I seem to have lost the phone!  If you shout into the phone, I might be able to find it!"
    "I'm here!  I'm right here!!  Can you find me?!"  Some of the patients waiting in his office started to sneak out.
    Bruce located the source of the noise and picked up the phone.  He placed it to his ear just in time for one last scream.
    Bruce shouted, "Okay!  Okay, I found it."
    Doctor Kleinhaus finished, "Yeah, um, let's schedule a time for you to come to my office early this afternoon."

    Brian was coordinating some computers which were to be used for internet access.  These computers were non-secure, so they were actually used more for games than anything official.  Brian hated this job, not because of all the morons with root access who didn't know what they were doing, but because he had no voice in what kind of hardware should be purchased.  He was administering computers that cost three times as much as what he could have built them, just because NASA was offered a service contract from the big-name computer manufacturer that sold them.  Of course, the service contract didn't cover reinstalling software, rerouting cables, educating the users on how not to break things, upgrades, updates, or any of the other work that Brian was overpaid to do.  It did, however, cover replacing original components, but even if NASA already had the replacement part, if Brian were to install it, the service contract would be void.
    CO walked into the room, where all he saw was a pair of legs sticking out from under a desk.  "Brian?"
    "Yeah?" replied Brian from inside a death-trap of network cables behind a computer desk.
    "Did you hear the news regarding the accident today?"
    "Yeah."
    "I need a replacement team for immediate launch.  Do you feel up to it?"
    Brian was still wrestling with network cables, trying to trace a faulty one, while CO was offering him the chance to change venue and return to what he loved.  "Sure," he replied, still speaking through the desk.
    "Congratulations.  Just check in with Dr. Kleinhaus within the next hour."
    "Okay," Brian replied, still sounding almost emotionless.
    CO stood there awkwardly for a minute.  "Brian, get out from under there."
    Brian let out an annoyed sigh and let go of the wires he had been working on for hours.  He stood up and looked at CO.  CO grabbed his hand and said, "I just wanted to shake your hand."  CO smiled, and Brian momentarily forgot about the computer and smiled in return.
    CO left and Brian did what he had always wanted.  No, he didn't shoot the computer screen.  He wrote a note and place it on the keyboard.  The note read, "Screw it!  It's out of order."

    When the team had been verified, CO assembled them for briefing.  "Welcome, crew of Strategic Defense Two.  Let's begin with a moment of silence."  The long moment of silence proved to upset the new crew.  The mood changed from cheer surrounding being selected for a space mission to terror at the prospect of being sent into space immediately after what they thought was a freak accident.  "Evidence indicates that the SDI One crew was murdered and blown into space by terrorists this morning.  We believe that they did so in order to disable our defenses.  Therefore, we need to send a replacement SDI station and crew immediately.  Your secondary mission will be to gather evidence from SDI One to build a case for a military strike."  This could have sent them packing, saying, "No thanks!" except that they felt a deep responsibility to protect the nation.  "Jeff will be your captain."  Brian and Liz, who were sitting next to him, gave him a high-five.  "Second in command will be Brian, as he comes in second with piloting experience.  Are there any questions?"
    Bruce began, "Why didn't the terrorists remain onboard and steal SDI One?"
    CO quickly replied, "I mean any mission-specific questions."  He looked around the room.  "Good.  Suit up, get lunch, and prepare to board SDI Two.  Good luck, men."

    The crew of an astounding twenty was all fake smiles and waves as they walked across the bridge into the cabin of the SDI Two station about to be launched.  The media was out en force.  Everyone wanted a shot at the crew that nobody knew.  Everyone around the world knew the SDI One crew by name.  The news story here was this replacement army.  The news media had been fed a story about a powerful electromagnetic scanner on the space station being calibrated to study the reversal of the magnetic poles on Earth.  They ate it up.
    "This is SDI Two.  All systems are go.  Over."
    "SDI Two, this is Mission Control.  We read you loud and clear.  Stand by for ignition in one minute and thirty seconds.  Over."
    Chatter on the base and in the station was silenced momentarily as Brian began speaking, "Oh Lord, in Jesus' name we ask you to protect us and to help us protect our country."
    "Amen!" came the response from the rest of the crew.
    CO, "Thank you, Brian, but please don't speak out of turn.  Over."
    Brian, "Copy."
    "Three. . .two. . .one. . ." and the takeoff went flawlessly, just like it had thousands of times before.  There hadn't been a takeoff accident since 2006, when some of the exterior paint which had not been properly electroplated managed to stick to the windshield.  Since nobody had a good view of the Earth from the cockpit, that whole mission was a bit of a downer.  Engines and skins had been improved greatly, so at least takeoffs and landings took less time.
    Strategic Defense Two took nearly the same orbit as Strategic Defense One had taken.

    Jeff began assigning tasks immediately.  "Alright, I want three marines ready at the port airlock.  We're gonna secure SDI One, then send a team of technicians to connect the onboard computer to our own.  Let's see if we can get the onboard video.  Ready?"
    Everyone stood ready with equipment in hand.  SDI Two silently and softly clamped onto SDI One.  With docking as quiet as it is, its no wonder that nobody noticed the intruders.
    The marines arrived at the outer airlock of SDI One.  After punching in a very long security override code, they opened the outer door and saw something which made them almost hurry to slam it in horror.  There was, on the floor, a shoe.  It had not been taken off of the foot, but the foot had been taken off of the leg.
    "This is alpha team leader.  We are preparing to enter, but we have a foot on the floor in the airlock.  Over."
    Jeff responded sarcastically, "Can you be a little more vague, please?  Over."
    "There is a severed human foot, sitting on the floor, staring our 'blown out into space' theory right in the face.  Over."
    Jeff, "Okay, send technicians to take pictures and gather evidence.  Then have the technicians fall back while you proceed to secure SDI One.  Over."
    "Affirmative.  Over and out."
    While Bruce was taking pictures, Liz handled the foot as she would any other piece of evidence and placed it neatly in a ziploc bag labelled 'Evidence 1'.  The technicians then returned to SDI Two while the marines made their way through the inner door.
    Jeff impatiently broke in and said, "What do you see?"
    Alpha team leader responded, "All clear.  Over."
    Jeff, "Any crewmembers?  Over."
    "There isn't even any blood, sir.  Nothing's broken.  Over."
    Jeff, "Alright, technicians move in.  Over."
    Brian, "Copy."
    As the technicians took pictures of the immaculate cabin of SDI One, Bruce made note of the slight burn marks on what is considered to be the "ceiling" of the SDI control room.  Brian photographed an aerosol can that had landed in the lab.  The lab door was open, so it could have landed there from where they were.
    Brian, "Hey whaddaya know?  It's a can of carburetor cleaner."  Brian smiled as he held the can up, almost as though advertising it.
    Bruce, "Oh yeah, Berkebile 2+2, the good stuff.  I use that stuff all the time."
    Brian, "Yeah, I know.  It's the only thing that seems to cut grease and tar off of electrical contacts and mechanical parts.  It's also fun on the 4th of July!"
    Bruce, "I didn't know they let techs take this stuff onboard with them."
    Liz, "You think maybe the attackers brought it with them?"
    Bruce and Brian were obviously shown up.  Bruce had to turn up the coolness, "Well, of course the thought crossed my mind, but I thought that terrorists would have used something like a real flamethrower."
    Liz showed them up again, "On September 11th, 2001, terrorists used simple box cutters."
    Jeff broke in, "Guys, save the conjecture for later.  We've got a lot of people listening to the radio signals.  Over."
    Liz, "Sure thing.  Over."
    Brian proceeded to access the computer and make a network connection available for SDI Two.  "The network should be up now.  Try to telnet in.  Over."
    Jeff, "Looks good.  Great job, guys.  Finish up there and come on back.  We'll have dinner as we wait for the data to download.  Over."
 
    Over recent years, as the art of eating in space had been refined, dinner together became a more and more important tradition.  As building costs dropped sharply, shuttles became bigger and bigger.  The standard fare was a shuttle with so much room that it was referred to as a space station.  By this time, entire dining rooms were being added to shuttles, complete with chairs and a table!  NASA approved a project that would add a centrifuge room, but that wouldn't be available until next year.
    The crew swam to their seats where Bruce had set out their hot meals in boxes attached to the table by magnets.  Magnets and sticky food made dinner a very civilized event, and except for the fact that everyone had bags for their beverages, you wouldn't know from looking at it that this room had no gravity.
    Jeff began with a prayer, and a speech, giving a toast to the crew of SDI Two and a memorial for the crew of SDI One.  Everyone waited for Jeff to take the first bite, as this was a very civilized dinner.
    Brian started chatting with Raymond, a marine sitting next to him.
    "Ray, I hear you started payments on an apartment in the space station."
    "Yeah, it's true.  This is my first time in space, but I've always been a sci-fi fan, and I want to be on the cutting edge of space travel.  I figure I'll retire in another 25 years, so by then, there oughtta be quite a resort up here."
    "No swimming pools, ya know."
    "Ah, that's true.  I never thought of that."
    "No tennis, golf, volley ball, baseball, basketball, hockey, football, mountain climbing..."
    "Okay, now yer getting me down.  Maybe I should pull out on my payments."
    "One hell of a TV and internet connection, though, being that the station is also a network satellite."
    "Hmm, that's true."

   By the end of dinner, the download from the SDI One computer to the SDI Two computer had completed, so the crew of twenty gathered around a computer screen.  Liz opened a set of video streams, and the last half hour of the SDI One crew was played back for them.  The video streams showed every videotaped part of the ship as well as ship status.  The SDI One crew was sleeping silently, motionless.  Nobody watching the video dared to speak.  Speaking now would have been like interrupting a hero's dying words.  It was easy to tell how everyone felt, though.  They were watching their friends sleep blissfully unaware of the attack that was to come; how in just minutes they would no longer be dreaming of the stars but be screaming in pain as they are burnt and tossed outside.  By 0455, there was a radio signal audible in the onboard video.  It was an unrecognized voice, "There is a Haraqi revolt in your area.  Be advised!"  Haraqi?  Did the speaker mean Iraqi?  That didn't make any sense at all!  There hadn't been any revolts in Iraq for years.  Why would there be one now?  Whatever the person on the other end of the radio meant, it was missed by the SDI One crew who slept right through it.  At 0458, the computer showed that the outer airlock was open.  It was indeed, since the airlock camera didn't show the small blinking light on the door that would indicate whether it's locked or not, but since there was no light in the airlock chamber, it was impossible to see who the intruder was.
    The crew was woken up.  "Good morning, SDI One.  I trust you had a pleasant night.  Over."  One of the marines watching the video started to breathe hard.  His chin started to tremble, and he walked out of the room.
    "As long as you do all the work and guide us in, what do I care?"  The inner airlock now started to open on the video.  One of the marines watching the video shouted, "C'mon!  Get outta there!"  Hearts were pounding in fear.  Blood was boiling in rage.  Out of the airlock entered the intruder; a small crawling thing.  Certainly it wasn't a terrorist.  Was it a robot or some walking flamethrower?  It looked something like a turtle or a beetle.  It was about the size of a small child, and it had a peculiar white shell with cow-like black spots.  The SDI One crew saw it and jumped in shock.  It walked toward the crew, making a sound like corduroy jeans.  The SDI One captain took a gun from the wall and fired a single shot at it.  "Intruder alert!" he shouted, "Bullets just bounce off of it.  Don't fire any more shots, it could trigger decompression!"  The SDI One crew started hitting it with heavy objects.  The technician grabbed an iron prybar and hit the intruder hard, seemingly killing this large insect.  At that moment, the room flooded with man-sized creatures, all looking like upright beetles.  For the next minute, there was no visibility, as there were creatures in the way of the cameras.  The sound was chilling, though.  The SDI One crew was screaming in terror, and with every noise the crew made, the creatures made a longer, louder noise.  Slowly, the masses started leaving the cabin, and with the last creature went the last crewmember, fighting for his life.  The creature simply tore pieces off of him until he stopped fighting, haphazardly leaving a foot on the floor of the airlock.  The video continued, but there was nothing more to see.  The only thing left to hear was Mission Control hoping against hope that it was just some prank; that the SDI One crew disconnected their lifevests to play a joke on them.  Even after the frantic calls for reply stopped, the video continued for ten minutes.  Everyone was silent as Liz walked to the computer and stopped the video.
    Liz broke the silence, "Jeff?"  Jeff yelped, then composed himself and said, "Yeah?"  Liz grounded everyone by saying, "I guess that explains the foot in the airlock."  Jeff knew he had to act cool in order to calm the rest of the crew.  "Oh great, just what we needed...Martian Terrorists."  A nervous laughter made its rounds among the crew.  Liz said, "Aww, you've handled worse.  You argued with CO before his morning coffee, right Jeff?" as she hugged him.  It may have looked like she was hugging him while joking, but she saw the dangerously high pulse rate coming from the captain and knew that a secure embrace would drop his pulse ten points.  Liz saw Jeff's pulse suddenly drop to 60 beats as Jeff finally clicked into his leadership role that he had always been known for.  "Alright, we know that bullets don't do anything to them, so let's put the guns away.  We don't want extra weight or accidental fire.  All that will do is punch a hole in our ship.  Considering the new evidence, it's not likely that any terrorists were planning to fire any nuclear weapons, so let's re-allocate more of our men to ship security.  Liz, I want you and a few marines to examine the video.  Find out what hurt the one..thing at the beginning of the attack.  Brian, lock the airlock.  Weld it if you need to.  Bruce, see if you can download SDI One's data, then upload it to our dirt-treading friends at Mission Control."
    Everyone acknowledged and, with their new-found confidence, began their missions.  Work progressed quickly and neatly, but this crew was prepared to disable missiles and prevent another attack, not fight bulletproof monsters from who knows where.

    A few hours later, the computer let out a familiar beep.
    Jeff looked at the computer, "We have an unidentified object just within RADAR.  It appears to be a missile, but it's not in disabling range yet."
    Bruce exclaimed, "So, was it terrorists after all!  Did they disable SDI One to make us vulnerable!"
    "Be advised!  Haraqi are becoming violent in your area!" suddenly buzzed in over the radio.
    One of the marines whined, "Oh man, not now!"
    Jeff jumped over to the communications desk and slammed his hand on the transmission button.  "Who are you?!"
    "Uh, hello, this is Jamaal at Mission Control.  Is everything alright up there?  Over."
    "No!  Not you!  Who just contacted me?  Over."
    A few seconds later, Mision Control replied, "Nobody here, sir.  What is the nature of the problem?  Over."
    That moment, the aft airlock burst open with an explosion, and the beetle creatures that the SDI Two crew had just become acquainted with walked in slowly.  They simply postured for a few seconds, until one of the marines threw a hatchet at them and, either with fantastic aim or with deadly luck, killed one of them.  The remaining creatures made a loud noise, almost like people chattering at a party, and attacked.
    The creatures were not organized nor effective, as they were randomly puncturing or removing body parts, most often only slowing the person down and rarely killing him.  The humans were very precise in their attacks, and they were effective in disabling and killing the creatures, but there were so many creatures constantly flooding in through the airlock.  Bruce was holding his own, sometimes fighting two or three creatures at once without any weapons.  However, the marines, some of the best trained fighters on Earth, were dying.  The creatures were walking back out with the bodies of the marines, sometimes still alive.  Brian and Liz were standing clear.  They had been ordered to.  Jeff fought the best he could, but even he was captured and carried away, screaming.  The creatures were trying to kill or abduct Bruce, but Bruce overpowered them.  Now it was just the technicians; the ones who were told not to fight.  Bruce rejoined Brian and Liz, hoping someone had a plan or a weapon or something.
    The creatures stopped advancing and stood ready to pounce.  It appeared that they fully intended to kill the technicians, too, but the technicians weren't fighting back at the moment.  The creatures obviously wanted a fight.  Brian looked down at the torch he had been using and the evidence kit on the counter.  In one quick motion, he grabbed the can of carburetor cleaner and his torch.  In the middle of it all, what seemed to be a housecat ran into the room!  The creatures started to lunge towards the technicians, and Brian quickly sprayed the carburetor cleaner through the nozzle of the torch, creating a huge column of flame.  The cat was caught in the flame, but it ran away in time to prevent death by fire or by trampling.  The flame was effective!  The creatures were backing away!
    The computer made its always untimely beep.
    Liz ran over to the computer, "There's a MIRV head en route to North America!  I can't use the SDI computer.  I'm not authorized!"
    Brian shouted, "Can you maneuver the ship?"
    "Yes!"
    "Set a collision course to begin in thirty seconds!"
    "..Done!"
    Using the spraycan, the technicians fought their way through the crowd to the port airlock, where they ran into the SDI One, closed the door, and detached before SDI Two took off.  They watched in anticipation as SDI Two aimed at and perfectly hit the MIRV head.
    "Yess!!" came from all three, as they hugged and began cheering.  They had killed two birds with one stone and lived to brag about it.

I, Benjamin Vander Jagt, believe that the use of copyrights to restrict the disemination of any sort of knowledge without the consent of all restricted parties is immoral and counterproductive.  I will only use the copyright system where it appears necessary in order to protect data from being wrongly copyrighted by a third party.  Inasmuch as possible, all of my creative works are public domain.

Specifically, I do have preliminary plans to write a full, public domain novel and only profit from the sales of signed printed copies.  Consider the following: Would you be more interested in downloading the Blues Brothers soundtrack from Kazaa?  Or would you be interested in buying an autographed album?  Of course, between unautographed CD and Kazaa, clearly many people would consider the illegal route.  For my own protection, I only plan to publish chapter 1 at this time.

Comments?  Inquiries?  Email me at benjaminvanderjagt@adelphia.net, or ICQ me at 6730681, AIM me at benvanderjagt, or YIM me at benvanderjagt.  I appreciate all comments, including "Cool", "Crap", or whatever else you may find appropriate.  Thank you for reading!