[#981108] Artist Bros. Enterprises presents... A Dairenn Lombard Production It was humid from the hot sun shining in the cloudless, blue sky above Mason Garrison, just north of Cape Canaveral in Florida, United States of America. A ten mile by 34-mile area excluding the operational portions of this region was home to more than 500 unique species of bird, reptile and amphibian. Meanwhile, the Canaveral National seashore was home to swimming, bathing, surfing and fishing. And, in an open field below the sky was 400 feet of steel. Using 1,000 kilowatts of diesel-generated electricity to give 2,750 horsepower was a massive platform vehicle on eight tracks rolled by 57 wheels. It alone weighted over 2,700 metric tons measuring 131 feet by 114 feet, rolling one mile per hour via the crawlerway, burning 150 gallons of oil per mile. It can move twice as fast when unloaded but with a total weight of 18 million pounds resting on the double tredded-tracks just 20-26 feet to the crawlerway, it lived up to its name. On a 140 foot-wide road 7-feet deep, the specially built crawlerway supported a massive white rocket standing on the crawler as it made its way to Pad A. Beneath the Saturn VI rocket on top of the mobile launch platform were shafts to accommodate the thrust provided by the newly perfected atomic engine aboard the newly redesigned version of the Saturn V rocket, abandoned by NASA decades ago. The mobile launcher had multiple umbilicals plugged into the rocket, supplying fuel, electricity and communications. All disconnected by pyrotechnics at launch. And just days ago, pad 39 was the launch site for the space shuttle Enterprise now in orbit above Earth, where a crew of five were destined to board the cargo about to be jettisoned into orbit from Apollo 18. SkyLab 6, a space station testing the first artificial gravity generator. The space station would discharge from the battery-shaped cylinder within the rocket's third and final stage. Computer software would then cause the space station to transform into a indescribable shape to support the five-man crew conducting their experiments for a planned duration of six months. Meanwhile, in a huge, brightly fluorescent-lit chamber within the blockhouse at Complex 36, Cape Canaveral were dozens upon dozens of men and women wearing headsets seated before television monitors and keyboards. Screens gave multiple views of the 40-story tall rocket ship along with several lines of information regarding fuel and electrical systems. This high-speed digital network allowed the NASA launch team to conduct countdown operations. Cross-talk from dialogue bleeding over from one person to the next created a chaotic sound from mathematicians to scientists giving verbal data while typing even more information to Johnson Space Center in Houston, Texas. Via a satellite dish, the spaceport in Florida communicated over a wide bandwidth signal directly to Houston. At the massive building there in the open plains of Texas, communication by radio was received by the men and women reading monitors and typing data at their terminals. There were rows upon rows of these people as the projector screen on the wall ahead of them gave a remote camera feed of the Saturn VI rocket about to launch. "And Apollo 18 is now T minus 600 seconds," a voice spoke out of the many. A man nodded and held his headset's microphone. "I copy that. All systems aboard unmanned ship reading normal. Nuclear engine status is active." In Hartford, Connecticut in the northeastern United States' new england states was a victorian house enjoying mild temperatures despite the high humidity. This wooden-colored home featured a modest garage with traditional features such as a flagged mailbox and brass door knocker--among other things. Inside of the dinning room adjacent to the living room, an older but still hansom, clean-shaven man with a full head of hair sat in a sweater was watching their High-Definition Television, or digital TV set. Next to him was his oldest child, 17 year old Rebecca Laughlin. Across from her was 12 year old Andy. "And now, just ten minutes away from the launch, let's turn now to our correspondent at Kennedy Space Center," said an UBC news correspondent. The new television network, United States Broadcasting Company, featured its transparent logo in the lower right-hand corner of the screen as the anchor was on the left side of an image split with an anchor holding a microphone outside the field. "NASA public relations have expressed their anxiousness to see Apollo 18 launch because after extensive testing and the painstakingly difficult task of recovering Saturn V rocket schematical information, the new Saturn VI ship is ready to launch. It features an atomic engine aboard the second stage that will allow the Saturn VI to proceed on to Mars. This will not happen during the Apollo 18 mission but will be tested after SkyLab VI is released. Typical engines using synthetic, environmentally friendly fuels will be used to provide thrust for this spacecraft." "Now, tell us a little bit more about SkyLab VI," the news anchor in the studio asked. "Essentially, the SkyLab program had been discontinued by NASA because the lack of funds and its unsatisfactory track record. And now, due to the venture capital invested by aerospace billionaire Robert Laughlin--NASA was able to construct this new space station." "Exactly," the correspondent confirmed. "And now, the most amazing experiment this station is attempting to achieve is artificial gravity with the untested devices embedded on platforms which will try to retain empty containers to their surfaces at exactly 1 G of force." With the television's lights reflecting from his glasses, Robert nodded affirmatively with a smile on his face. "And, by the way, I have just now received word that mission control is about to begin the final countdown sequence for Apollo 18 so let us provide to our viewing audience the audio feed for this countdown," the news anchor in the studio said. A remote camera positioned outside tall fences surrounding the octagonal shaped launch pad faced the tall, stiff shaft of steel pointing up the sky majestically. With gasses flowing away from its rigid surface about to burst forth in a powerful display of pure energy. And in front of it was a large LED display screen reading: 07-21-2007, 10:08:09 (eastern time zone, military time code) and counting. Other remote cameras pointed at people visiting the spaceport, looking past a fence far from the fenced off launch pad. Elevated on a 5% incline from the crawlerway road, three miles from the Vertical Assembly Building; a large steel structure near the beach where orbiters are refurbished by large, sliding platforms lining up around the vertical length of a shuttle. Switching back now to the Saturn VI rocket with UNITED STATES OF AMERICA and the red white and blue flag printed on its white hull, audio from mission control broadcasted a man speaking. "Countdown to lift off now T minus 20." Another voice spoke up, "Onboard computer responding and launching systems. Electrical network responding to software queries. Safety interlocks engaged. Sensor status indicating heat shields intact. Skylab power status on stand by." The first voice then said, "T minus 10, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two . . . T minus 1 and--lift off." The foggy gasses beneath the bells were burned away by the pre-burners before three fireballs unrolled out of the rocket afterburners. Fifty foot deep flame trenches almost 60 feet wide, extended 450 feet long below the mobile launch platform were filled by a wave of fire blasting forth. Pyrotechnics blew off hoses attached to the side of the rocket's hull as the space ship began to rise vertically into the air. The crowd watching, brightly illuminated, felt a warm rush of air that blew their hair back while some donned sunglasses to safely perceive the lift off. As the impressive Saturn VI rocket ascended from the mobile launch platform, the thrust from the afterburners was as bright as the sun. Smoke leaving the flames launching the Apollo 18 space ship into the sky rushed out of sight as the tower of steel being hurled hundreds of miles per hour into the sky left the top of the launch platform tower. "Houston copies that," another voice said. "We have lift off." ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜ ÜÜÜÜÜÜÜ ÜÜÜ ÜÜÜ ÜÜÜ ÜÜÜ Û ÜÜÜÜÛ Û ÜÜÜ Û Û Û Û ÜÜÜ Û ÛÜßÛßÜÛ ÛÜßÛßÜÛ Û ÛÜÜ Û Û ÜÜÜ Û Û ÛÜÜÜÜ Û ÜÜÜ Û ÜÛßÜßÛÜ ßÛ Ûß ÛÜÜÜÜÜÛ ÛÜÛ ÛÜÛ ÛÜÜÜÜÜÛ ÛÜÛ ÛÜÛ ÛÜÛßÛÜÛ ÛÜÛ ßßßßßßßß ßßßßß ßßßßß ßß ßß ßßßßßßß ßßßßß ßßßßßß ßßßßß ßßßßßßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßßßßßßß ßßßßß ßßßßß ßßßßß ßßß ßßß ßßßßßß ßßß ßßßßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßß ßßßßßß ßß ßß ßß ßßßßß ßß ßß ßßßßß ßßßßßßß ÛÛÛÛÛ» ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ» ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ» ÛÛÛÛÛÛ» ÛÛÛÛÛÛ» ÛÛÉÍÍÛÛ» ÛÛÉÍÍÍͼ ÈÍÍÛÛÉÍͼ ÛÛÉÍÍÛÛ» ÛÛÉÍÍÍÛÛ» ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛº ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ» ÛÛº ÛÛÛÛÛÛɼ ÛÛº ÛÛº ÛÛÉÍÍÛÛº ÈÍÍÍÍÛÛº ÛÛº ÛÛÉÍÍÛÛ» ÛÛº ÛÛº ÛÛº ÛÛº ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛº ÛÛº ÛÛº ÛÛº ÈÛÛÛÛÛÛɼ Èͼ Èͼ ÈÍÍÍÍÍͼ Èͼ Èͼ Èͼ ÈÍÍÍÍͼ ÛÛÛÛÛÛ» ÛÛÛÛÛ» ÛÛÛ» ÛÛ» ÛÛÛÛÛÛ» ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ» ÛÛÛÛÛÛ» ÛÛÉÍÍÛÛ» ÛÛÉÍÍÛÛ» ÛÛÛÛ» ÛÛº ÛÛÉÍÍÍͼ ÛÛÉÍÍÍͼ ÛÛÉÍÍÛÛ» ÛÛÛÛÛÛɼ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛº ÛÛÉÛÛ» ÛÛº ÛÛº ÛÛÛ» ÛÛÛÛÛ» ÛÛÛÛÛÛɼ ÛÛÉÍÍÛÛ» ÛÛÉÍÍÛÛº ÛÛºÈÛÛ»ÛÛº ÛÛº ÛÛº ÛÛÉÍͼ ÛÛÉÍÍÛÛ» ÛÛº ÛÛº ÛÛº ÛÛº ÛÛº ÈÛÛÛÛº ÈÛÛÛÛÛÛɼ ÛÛÛÛÛÛÛ» ÛÛº ÛÛº Èͼ Èͼ Èͼ Èͼ Èͼ ÈÍÍͼ ÈÍÍÍÍͼ ÈÍÍÍÍÍͼ Èͼ Èͼ Starring Sheratan Kasei, a.k.a., Dave Marcello. Australis Mokusei, a.k.a., William Richards. Nashiran Dosei, a.k.a., Thomas Nevison. Messuta Suisei, a.k.a., Ron Michaeli. Lotia Kinsei, a.k.a., Amy Leven. Officer Beverly Tenmei And Commander Leto, a.k.a., Professor Aaron Hanson. Co-Starring Agent Franklyn Mahoney Agent Katherine Sanchez Chief John Madison and Andromina Tenbinza Written By Dairenn Lombard Sarah Bewley Kristen P. Fallon Music By Dairenn Lombard for Artist Bros. Music Story Editor M. Hideo Miyake Creative Consultants Makoto Yokoyama Kouichi Sakamoto Hitoshi Doi Technical Consultants Takeuchi Shouichi Peter Bell Pat Johnson Vic M. Armstrong Peter Diamond Jim Dumoulin David Dickinson Kay Grinter Hugh Harris Executive Producer Valerie Lombard Produced By Artist Bros. Productions Art Direction By Ondre Lombard Based on Super Sentai Century Toei Group, Limited The sparkling stars in the navy blue sky were just beginning to twinkle as the orange glow from the sun that had just set beyond the horizon dimmed. Down the quiet neighborhood road, lined with large trees full of leaves was where Robert McLaughlin lived. Inside of the house, Robert stood by his telescope on the balcony of his bedroom with the door open. There were pens and pads of paper handy with a cordless telephone and the observatory telephone number in the back of the telephone indicated he frequently reported unique findings that he observed with his multi-hundred dollar telescopic equipment. Distracted by just the view, Robert was left oblivious of something walking inside. A knock was heard on the door and he turned around. Short, brownish blonde haired Rebecca stood in a turtle neck sweater and jeans smiling at her father. He smiled and stepped away from his telescope. "Why--hello..." "Hey, Dad--I just thought I'd come see how you were," Rebecca said, bearing the voice a matured adolescent. After she stopped walking up to him, Robert sighed and shook his head. "I still can't believe it." Smiling with joy, Rebecca nodded slowly. Robert shook his head while looking away. "I've spent the better half of my career collecting the money and talking to all of the right people to get our space program _back_ on its feet again." Rebecca walked closer to him with her hands in her pockets. "And now it's finally happened." "Yeah," he marveled. "I mean, it's almost like death. You know it's going to happen some day but it's never quite real until it's about to happen and even when it does, you still wouldn't believe it." "Dad," Rebecca said before taking his hands into her own, "we're really proud of you." Robert sighed joyously. "I can't ever forget this. I was just six years old when I saw Neil Armstrong stand on the moon on television." His eyes glazed, he thought back to that moment. In a living room, on a wooden floor--a small boy with a ducktail hair style watched a oak television cabinet and a black and white picture tube. Robert was spell-bound by the images he saw and the sounds he heard. On the screen, a man in a big, mostly white looking space suit took a step down off of the ladder that was on the surface of the moon with nothing but blackness beyond the horizon. The audio being the noisy, telephone-quality radio feed of Armstrong's first words while on the Earth's only natural satellite. Once his large white boot landed on the dusty surface of the lunar object, a beep was heard prior to his voice. "One small step for--man, one giant leap for mankind." "I knew then that the human race was capable of accomplishing anything his mind had concentrated on," Robert said. Rebecca smiled. "That and a little luck doesn't hurt," Robert joked. Rebecca nodded and chuckled. "Yeah, that's true. I can't say everyone who saw that was so moved they spent years tracking down the original Saturn V rocket schematics." Robert nodded but then sighed solemnly. "I only wish that your mom lived to see this happen." "Me too." "Caroline was so understanding it made me guilty I spent so much time on the project," he regretted. "I almost wish I had've been there more often. She was the one lady I could communicate with on the same... The same wavelength." "She knew you were following a dream, Dad," Rebecca replied. She sat down on a chair and looked up at him with her hands folded on her lap. "Sometimes, the needs everyone else has is more important than just two people." Robert nodded deeply. "Yeah, but before that one business trip to Los Angeles ten years ago--she was everything to me. When I saw the war in that city end, I was happy and sad all at once." Rebecca looked at him as he walked back up to the balcony, closing the glass doors. "I was happy it was all over, finally. After a year of this unreal conflict." Rebecca nodded. Robert looked out into space with his head up against the closet door. "But I was also sad that it had to end after Caroline had to die because of it." The bright blue sky was clear while a disc of yellow provided an overabundance of 90-degree fahrenheit temperatures to the city of Los Angeles above Temple and Main Streets. City Hall, in its multiple stories of white-clad height stood capped by its pyramid top while standing near a tall, box like office building with a white delimited, complex grid of windows. And at Parker Center, Los Angeles Police Department headquarters, black and white Ford Crown Victoria automobiles and some classic Chevrolet Caprice cars were parked in the underground lots. Cars drove into and out of the parking garage while, along the pavement in front of the high-rise was the long, concrete walkway to the entrance. A pair of glass doors with the City of Los Angeles insignia branded above the handle. Below which was their slogan, "To Protect.. And Serve". An officer in uniform was wearing an extra stripe on her shoulder as she walked through the hallways. Wearing significantly less on her black, leather utility belt, the policewoman encountered several officers' smiling faces. "Hey Congratulations!" "Thanks," her small-sounding voice chirped. "Oh man, way to go!" another officer congratulated. She nodded at them. As she passed between the halls--the Japanese woman in her late twenties smiled as she past more people smiling back at her before walking back into the offices. A golden, engraved plate read the name: Beverly Tenmei before she sat down behind the desk it was mounted on. She rolled up to her computer system before the black, touch-tone telephone rang. Tenmei picked it up, answering, "Lieutenant Tenmei." "Hey, Beverly," a deep sounding voice said. "Frank??" she asked. "Frank Mahoney? Man, I haven't seen you since you left to work for the FBI a couple years ago! Oh my God, how are you?" "Pretty good, I guess," he answered. "I heard about your promotion, Lieutenant Tenmei." "Hehehehehe," she'd giggled. Frank chuckled on her phone. "Kathy offers her congratulations too but she's kinda busy." "How's Sanchez doing these days?" Frank sighed audibly on the telephone. "Oh, I hear she's engaged." "Ooh, wow! Really?" Beverly asked. "My goodness." A hispanic woman in a green crop top and black hiphuggers wearing sandals came beside her. She looked behind herself at Sasha Castillo and waved at her. Sasha waved back, smiling brilliantly. "Uh huh?" Beverly replied. "Okay, Frank--well, I need to head out, all right? Hey, what's your number. It's been a long time since we've talked. We need to catch up! Okay, hang on a second." Beverly took a fountain pen from the wooden and gold pen holder on her desk and started cursively handwriting a number in the 310 area code. "Okay, I know where that's at. Thanks, I got it. All right, well, you stay in touch, okay?" "All righty, Beverly," answered Frank. "Okay, b'bye," Beverly told him before hanging up. "I'm almost ready to go, Sasha. It's just that I'll need a couple hours to change and take a shower." "That's okay, the dance club doesn't open until eight anyway. We've got three hours." Beverly stood up, grabbing her keys and plastic electronic time record card. "Oh, Sasha--did you catch the subway over here? I'm only asking because I could probably take you to my place or yours before we get going." "Good thinking and yeah, I took the Red line," Sasha answered. Beverly walked away from her desk. "Great. Can you do me a favor and go to lot E8 in underground lot? I need to sign some paperwork and then I can go." Sasha shook her head and waved her hand. "No problemo, Beverly. I'll see you at your car, okay?" "'Kay. Bye!" Sasha headed for the hallway and looked behind herself to wave at her. "Bye." Beverly paused while smiling, looking at Sasha as she left--actually frozen that way because of something she'd been thinking about. The brass handle of a drawer in her desk was pulled by her yellow, fingernail polished fingers bearing a green Jade stoned, gold-encased ring. Inside was a framed picture face down in the drawer. Beverly picked it up and held it by both hands before gazing into the picture within the frame. Her thumbs were beside a picture taken slightly less than ten years ago with herself, Dave Marcello, William Richards, Ron Michaeli, Tom Nevison and especially Amy Levin--her younger half sister. Beverly's angular eyes looked down onto the picture with a now expressionless look upon her made-up face. Silently, she spoke to herself, "I wonder--where are they now?" Up from the red bark of a tree--unlike any shape documented on Earth featured branches with pink, egg-shaped leaves in the yellow sky. The sun, a bright green disc of light, was shining brightly with only a few puffy white clouds above. The sphere-shaped city block below featured pathways for pedestrian travel with silver railing leading down brightly lit, metal steps to underground magnetically propelled vehicles. Between the pathways were the top halves of domes. These two-meter height structures of varying color were in all actuality, more sphere shaped as their tops were slightly flatter than their edges so that they would be long enough to provide enough internal room. Aside from the automatically sliding, black, tinted glass doors leading to the walk paved in stone between the lawn of blue grass, the buildings were covered in panels of two-way mirrors naturally made out of a crystal that naturally grows here. This structure design was chosen to best weather storms, absorb the most sunlight for energy and heat for heating and water heating. Inside--an aluminum-like table sat against one wall with a centimeter thick, silver pad on it. Hand written notes were seen in its touch-sensitive display, in another language--in non-roman characters. Next to it was a picture of Australis Mokusei and a woman--only, she wore a pantsuit while he was in a long, straight robe, reaching to black boots. The highly decorative nature of the clothing suggested formalwear or business attire, if not some kind of uniform. More casual, but equally unusual clothing were hanging from the wall of a glass booth in the corner. In this room--a mattress in a brass frame with poles extending a meter and a half up from the mattress was draped by shiny cloth, all navy blue, including the top. Suddenly, a harsh buzz was heard all around; light sticks in ceiling inside of frame grid above changed from white to red while flashing brilliantly. "UH!!" a voice grunted. Two humanoid hands reached out and pulled the curtains apart, showing Australis sitting up in his bed with the covers over his lap with his hair a mess. He looked over at a panel that extended from the glossy, white wall and observed a yellow display ticking characters one second at a time. It was in non-roman characters as well but must have indicated the time. "I knew I was gonna regret last night," he groaned to himself in his own language while grinning to himself. He looked behind himself and grabbed the covers that his legs were under and flipped them back onto the matress. It was filled with unknown material to provide the best rest achievable and he was dreading leaving it but stood up anyway; and, not having worn anything to bed, his unclothed backside came into view. He walked out of sight after passing the curtains of his bed to shield himself from the sunlight. He walked up to a glass door and it pulled itself down into a wall panel downstairs while he walked inside of a small white chamber. Compared to all else, this was a typical bathroom arrangement, although toilet seemed to use recyclable disinfectants after a vacuum system sucked the contents out of the bowl. Australis pushed a backlit button in the wall and the lid irised shut to restrict free germ backflush and the silent vacuum was only slightly heard before sprays went to work. Meanwhile, he walked over a small barrier in the floor and pulled up a slider. Warm water with temperature adjusted by the 10-key numerical membrane keypad outside flowed from the grill in the wall, mounted at an angle for full-body coverage. A hole in the wall ejected a deodorizing, disinfectant, anti-bacterial solution onto his naval-less stomach and all he did was massage the oily fluid into his skin. Meanwhile--downstairs, another humanoid hand closed the handle on a steel door while, above, a mobile platform one third of a meter long by a half meter wide held steaming consumables, deemed edible by their aroma. Above this cubby hole in the wall were various backlit membrane keys and digital displays. A woman with her hair decorated by purple highlights wore makeup that sparkled on her face. She was facing a counter using a knuckle-worn knife to safely cut an undescribable vegetable in a unique metal container. In the corner, a tube allowed a platform to descend from above and Australis walked into the kitchen wearing a gray body suit with his hair wet. The lady looked at her with her eyebrow arched from confusion. He shook his head. "The de-humidifier is broken again," Australis told her. She merely chuckled through gasps in her nose before shaking her head. In the den, a cage in the wall had a hole in it where a rectangular slot ejected envelopes of paper--postal mail arrival. The tube in the wall was curved so that the underground tube carrying their mail would push it up with air pressure. It was curve around the top and fall into hole before the air pressure kicked it into the cage. This worked for parcels as well. Larger deliveries used the fireplace-like terminal next to it in the corner. Mere documents were simply printed out by a slot above the cage such as a facsimile machine would. All communications (private data and voice, public audio and video broadcasts, energy, water and most all other services) were provided by underground cables and pipes. Sensors detecting a new object in the cage caused a small, green light stick to fly up and glow as a soft bell chimed. Australis looked over before looking at the wall clock and sighed. "I don't know whats wrong with the central distribution office. They keep getting the mail here, like, two centicycles behind schedule. It's a good thing I'm not waiting on anything important." "Try to relax, Australis," his mate spoke. Australis nodded with a frown and looked down at his food and used finger ladles to scoop up his meal. "I'm just a little high strung because the Uton Defense board of directors have asked me to train a new squadron downtown. It's a lot of pressure, Himalia." "I know, Australis," she replied before sitting down at the table with him. "I thought you'd be a lot happier about this now? You haven't been doing any action for years." Australis looked up at her. "There's a reason for that. I missed you when I was gone for a year. I thought it wouldn't be too tough but the five of us came close to losing our lives several times and each time, I was strong to the others. I always was the one to help maintain our sanity back then but because I feared dying and never getting to see you again, I was reluctant to return to active duty since then." "You always hated the office," Himilia said. "I remember when you first went to Earth--I didn't care you were going off to fight a menace to the solar system so much as I was you would want to stay because of falling for another woman." "That was the least of my problems but sadly that was one of the things that almost brought down everyone else," Australis replied. "I know this isn't the same but somehow I feel like--to myself--I'm breaking a vow I made to stay away from that stuff, for good. I can understand the Uton Government wanting me to return to defense in some function or another because of helping to protect us all but psychologically--saving the galaxy is obviously very taxing." "This isn't the same, though" Himalia told him. "I'd be the last one to disagree with you, Australis--especially about this; but, you'd be helping other people without really having to do it yourself this time." A quick, two-tone signal bell beeped from the wall speaker grill up by the ceiling before a recording said, "Incoming Communication from Messuta Suisei at 192.128.196.200 regarding:" then Messuta's voice inserted said, "you know..." Australis shook his head and groaned. The recording continued, "Accept?" "Yes," Australis groaned. Another two-tone signal indicated the call was connected. "Messuta, what's going on?" Over the speakers, "pick up the hand set or go to your terminal," replied Messuta. Australis sat down in front of a flat, active matrix display screen and picked up the hand-set, talking into the mouthpiece. "Why are you calling me private like this?" "I had some bad news and I didn't want your wife to hear the flames pouring out of your mouth after I get through telling you about what's going on but, we already have a drop out," Messuta replied. Australis shook his head and sucked air between his teeth and cheek. "Ugh." "Yeah, you might wanna get here quick," Messuta replied. Sighing, he nodded. "All right, all right--I'm on my way." "Okay, bye." The screen powered down after Australis hung the receiver on the wall next to the speaker. He stood up and walked away, and Himalia watched Australis walk back into the kitchen by the rear exit. In the kitchen, Australis approached another lift that, instead, only went down. "I haven't called your tram yet," Himalia told him. Australis stopped and sighed, realizing he's been less than pleasant to be around. "That's okay, Himalia--you just catch up on some sleep and maybe take the rest of the day off. I'll worry about the chores," Australis told her. "You deserve it after having to put up with me." Himilia chuckled. "Oh, Australis." Walking up to him, she wrapped her hands around his waste while wearing the next best thing to a kimono and kissed up on the lips. "After the year you came back to me, there's nearly nothing you can do to make me stop wanting to be with me. You gave me more attention than I knew what to do with." Australis smiled. "That's the way I plan to keep it too." He kissed her on the lips again and then turned around. The tube's glass cover rolled around behind the booth and into the shaft before the platform was lowered. From the ceiling, the platform was lowered by a hydraulically powered steel pole with Australis descending on it. It became even with the floor level in the black chamber and so he walked away from the shaft in the wall. Its door closed and ceiling spotlights came on, illuminating the concrete floor while a row of lights along a black walls were also lit up the underground garage. Australis walked towards a floating vehicle with a duck-head shaped body in a groove built into the platform. He pointed a small device at it while pushing the button, disarming the anti-theft systems and causing the door to unlock and open. The door, being the side of the tram, raised itself by hinges in the T-top. Australis sat in the seat before the automatic restraints lowered themselves onto his body, the door automatically closed and inside lights from the floor activated themselves. The bar of light around the front of the highly aerodynamic vehicle came on to illuminate the path ahead. In front of him was a membrane keyboard while beside him was a lever that looked like the stick for the automatic transmission of an automobile. The onboard computer was a router with a database record of the city. The display between the simple keys on the side could display maps and output from the computer including his own entries. The router software charted the fastest path to a programmed destination and compared it against known stopped movement on magnetic tracks throughout the underground transit network. They were detected by the sensors throughout the network that noted vehicles that had stopped in the middle of the magnetic railroad. So, collisions and other accidents were accounted for in map calculation and were so throughout the journey. And since the maximum speed was accounted for in its calculation, an ETA could be given with millicycle accuracy. With the membrane keys, Australis recalled memory setting number 1, a pre-set destination that he'd programmed into the magnetically levitated vehicle to take him to work. A new feature in this model maglev. The accelerator lever in the floor was in brake mode (with its handle turned parallel to his body. Australis grabbed it and twisted the handle to be horizontal to his hand before pushing it. His vehicle slid silently out of its docked location and rotated on its center axis before a whirring sound from its power engines indicated it was about to accelerate suddenly. The programmed speed was set for the equivalent of 100km/h. on the computer and Australis sighed. Even though the conveniences of Terrania were much greater than that on Earth, he had remembered the most exciting times of his life on the primitive world. Suddenly, the vehicle just suddenly pushed itself through the cavity in the ground at high speed with little sound and no exhaust. The dashboard indicated the actual velocity versus, the speed limit and the user defined velocity by bar meters in the color of blue, green, yellow and red. A whistle was heard if traveling beyond the speed limit by 5km/h. Below the vehicle was a pair of continuous white lights embedded in the ground. These bars under the glass panel, four inches below the vehicle, were the magnetic guides that navigated the vehicle while the side panels maintained initial levitation. However, above the equivalent of 70 mi/h., the vehicle's aerodynamic design allows it to coast on a jet stream of air as the magnetic guides held the vehicle's electromagnets in place. The onboard computer software could switch which magnets it would use to navigate from one set of magnetic tracks to the next with a third bar of usually inactive electromagnets. Meanwhile, the reflection of the tunnel lights rolled over the slanted windshield of the maglev vehicle Australis drove. And, from his point of view, all he saw was his tunnel until the tunnel left him and joined a yard many kilometers long of magnetic tracks. This black chamber, illuminated by the magnet tracks resembled a freeway with a meter-tick, transparent wall separating these lanes from traffic traveling in the opposite direction. The vehicle directly ahead of Australis' maglev signalled to his computer it was about to slow down in 1 microcycle so his did so automatically to maintain the calculated safe distance from their vehicle--the distance need it to stop. Meanwhile, text that would read in English, "ALERT: 12 O'CLOCK VEHICLE BRAKE -- CURRENT SPEED: 88km/h." appeared on his dashboard. Australis hadn't even payed attention because his mind was on other things. Automatic track changes were made by vehicles in order to turn right, left; doing so by rising higher using the magnetic guides to go over the barrier to on-coming traffic and either cross it and onto other magnetic guides, or join the traffic, effectively maneuvering a U-turn. All controlled by computer software running from ROM memory to avoid hardware-related downtime caused by commands issued to quickly. Turning signals were never used since the information about traffic conditions were constantly being transmitted by radio to other vehicle computers. Some teenagers customized their trams by re-programming the software to send messages--which is illegal. However, that didn't stop some boys from sending old ladies lewd messages. Naturally, they took the liberty of disgusting the header information that indicated where the message came from. Signs on the walls indicated current location, which were also reflected by the dashboard display screen, as well as business parking yards where visitors and employees were authorized to park. Unauthorized visitors could simply not enter if their vehicle's license barcode was not entered into the yard barrier database. Pedestrian traffic on the underground MagWay--as this city-wide network was called, was prohibited. Only the edge platforms for users of the iron-track based electric trolly could stand underground for public transit. Long distance transportation and goods hauling were provided by above ground mag-lev trains that departed from massive stations outside of town. Some were coaches designed for transportation services while others were cargo magnetic trains. They used independent tunnels built halfway into the ground to connect all major cities of the Uton continent. Australis had manuevered into the right-turn only lane and came to a complete stop comfortably--as calculated by the software. The hovercar turned on its center axis and sped inside of the tunnel in a wall. This short tunnel ended before he entered the pool of maglev vehicles anchored to polls--also levitating by magnetic repulsion. His vehicle entered a stall before coming to a complete stop. It was anchored by a beam of light that attached itself to his front bumper and--inside, Australis shut down his vehicle. On the plank next to his tram, Australis walked away from it before striding along the platform. "S'a good thing I always keep my uniform in my locker. I never have time to get dressed," he mumbled to himself. Patiently, he waited for one of the six platform tubes to slide open its shaft panel for his use. Outside, a much larger building on a block sat in front of sign reading, "UTON DEFENSE BUILDING: G6" in Terranian characters. And, inside--a long hallway of white, steel walls led to a heavy, metal door. Approaching it, Australis looked into two eye cups, put his hand on a plastic panel jutting out beside the door and said, "password: koritsu". A soft bell chimed and a voice replied. "Identity authenticated. Access granted. Persons permitted: one." The sound of compressed air seeping out was heard once the huge door rolled away from the long slot in the side of the doorway. Inside of a floor-lit chamber, the door closed again. Australis turned around, facing the door again with a blurred window in the wall behind himself. It was lit with a symbol representing the first level. "Level nine," he said and another bell chimed. By hydraulics, the elevator ascended rapidly, causing the light in the window to change numbers. On an elevated walkway above the floor with railing around the chamber, a lighter door slid open, allowing Australis to walk out and into one of the monitoring centers. He walked wearing a sleak jump-suit of navy-blue color with a green gem in the center of a golden frame pinned above a rank bar, bearing a silver triangle. Messuta was reading information someone was showing him on a pad and noticed Australis was standing behind him. "Hey, Australis. (Thanks, Socata.)" The other Terranian nodded and walked out of view before Messuta joined Australis who continued to walk towards his office. "So what's this emergency about, Messuta?" Messuta shook his head. "I was surprised to hear about this since I'm the defense systems programmer and not in tactical anymore. But a new member was kicked out because of lack of discipline." "What did they do?" Messuta sighed. "They said she can't be trusted--not because they think she'll defect or sell out top-secret information to terrorists and other rebels but because of the consistency of which she accepts the orders she's given. It is pretty irregular and a lot of the time, she takes risks and too many as well so they think of her as the type who isn't that much of a team player." "I don't know if I agree. I mean, Sheratan was as volatile as they came and if Uton Defense had the kind of standards it does now then, he wouldn't have ever become leader of the Astrorangers and who knows what would've happened on Earth ten years ago," Australis replied. In a dark chamber, a soundproof transparent wall faced an acoustically adjusted booth with musical instruments that resembled a set for percussions, a low-toned string instrument, another type of string instrument, microphones and head phones hung from hooks beneath the sheet music stand facing each microphone on a stand. And, behind one of the heavy doors with a window was the control room where the engineering console faced Nashiran Dosei. Sitting on a stool he was faced a multi-channel sound mixer with several faders, knobs and buttons. Behind him were uniquely design speakers that had a smooth, flat surface that provided a perfect representation of the music as recorded by the musicians that were standing in front of the exit door listening. Nashiran took off his headphones after hitting the equivalent of the stop button on the removable digital media machine to his left, he nodded. "That sounds pretty cool but let me change the effects on your vocals, Kayn," Nashiran replied in the Terranian language. "Whatever you want, Nash--you know your stuff," the vocalist replied. Nashiran turned to a tall rack of 19"-wide machines that served multiple purposes--compression, noise reduction, effects processing, MIDI synthesizers, equalizers, digital audio recorder, multitrack digital audio recorder and so forth and adjusted one of the programs on the effects processor by turning a dial. Nashiran leaned over to pull out one of the 1/4" jacks in the patch-bay to route a track from the original recording through the different processor he was using. However, he suddenly got a tone over the grill speaker in the ceiling above and Nash looked up. The intercom, amplified because it was often 90 decibels in the studio, featured the receptionist's voice for the recording suite he owned. "Administrate Dosei, Daria is here to see you. Should she continue to wait in the lobby?" "Daria??" he gasped to himself while looking down and around on the floor. He rolled back in his stool on the flat mat covering the carpet so the caster wheels could roll and looked back at the equipment rack before glancing at the mixing console. "Uh--yes, Kyara. Thanks." "You're welcome," his receptionist replied before a click indicated she'd turned off her microphone. Nashiran stood up and smiled for the benefit of the musicians. "Hey, listen guys, let me keep working on this a little while longer and call you back in, okay? No need to burn your money, guys." "That's all right. The Music Publisher's paying for it," the guitarist replied, "but, I'm hungry. I wanna go get somethin' to eat anyway." "Yeah, me too," said the percussionist. "We'll call you on your remote communicator, Nash." Nashiran nodded. "Sounds great, seeya guys." While the door was already open, the music group members were already walking out while moaning their goodbyes. The man holding open the door waved before walking out into the, much brighter hallway. The air pressure from the door slowly closing was heard before Nashiran started frowning with confusion. "Why is she here?" In the round lobby, Nashiran walked in past the reception desk and she saw him before looking at Daria. A girl with red, highlighted hair was sitting on the couch before suddenly standing up. "Nashiran..." "Hey, um," he replied. "(Wow.) Come with me." Nashiran directed while she walked towards him. Daria stepped ahead of him before they walked down another hallway. In the hallway, framed documents listing successful accomplishments hung on the walls as Nashiran walked with Daria. The hall could explode if a match were lit, there was so much tension visible. Daria found it hard to breath as anxiety made it difficult to piece together thoughts to form a single sentence. Nashiran sighed. "Daria, what happened when I came back from Earth? We were slated to become mated by the Marshal of Courtship." "I know, Nash. I felt so bad about it that I had to leave you that message at Defense headquarters instead of telling you face to face because I'd crack," Daria explained. "I was torn between you and my lover." Nashiran shook his head, looking confused. "So why did you ever want to find me?" "Because it took two years for me to remember why I loved you. In 4993, I left my lover and tried to find you off and on. Sometimes I gave up and tried staying alone. I tried being with someone else. But they weren't anything but insignificant love-affairs," Daria explained. "Nashiran, it's hard for me to say this because I almost know what you're thinking." Nashiran inhaled before sighing. "What are you trying to tell me, Daria?" "I wanna be with you again, Nashiran. You were deep, man. You had this unmistakable depth that was so serious, it reminded me of my own mortality daily and I like that." "Wait a minute, what are you talking about?" Nashiran asked her. Daria stopped walking with him and turned around to face him. She looked up at him, hardening her lips, conveying the intensity of her feelings. "You've got the touch. You have the power to make me see things clearly when all hell's breaking lose." Nashiran looked away, unable to believe her. Daria's eyes tried to follow his. "Nash, I was lost without you and had a failure in judgement when I left you while you were on Earth. I needed somebody who could support me by being understanding and taking care of me while I tried to make a life for myself." "You were very young when I met you," Nashiran mentioned. Daria nodded. "Most people aren't as dedicated as you are and most people weren't willing to go through what you did for my sake. Dealing with all of my problems both physical and psychological." "Since then, I understood one very important lesson that I learned from those three years we spent together," Nashiran replied. Daria was almost too afraid to hear what he was about to say. Nashiran took a step towards her and let go. "I've learned that you can't change a person, no matter how much they can love you. And even though I know you wanted to make life easier on me by helping me help you, it makes it feel like it's all for nothing when the years you spend helping somebody mature, mentally end up wasted. When you left, the--pay off, for lack of a better expression, was washed down the drain after that being one of the few sole reasons I ever hung in there for you." Daria nodded, regretfully. "It was in the idle hope that someday, you would be on my level of passion and could see life the way I could and appreciate the things that I could appreciate like I tried to do for you. And we were almost there but you got impatience, you got scared or something told you that what we were doing was nice as a fantasy. But, it's time to settle down and start doing things the way everybody else does it." "For that I'm sorry, Nashiran but that's all the past," Daria immediately replied. "I'm a new woman, Nashiran." Nashiran took another deep breath. Daria stood close to him and looked at him, face to face. "Tell me honestly you're happy and not alone." Nashiran knew she could sense his mind if she concentrated hard enough and he weren't. Terranian's telepathic sense worked far better on humans who hadn't developed their psychological abilities to this advanced level yet than it did on Terranians. "I'm sorry, Daria," Nashiran replied. "I can't be with you again." Daria was frozen by the surprise that the lonely, miserable mind she felt could say that to her. He was even stronger than she thought. "I can't take the chance that we'll go through another three, six, nine or whatever years just to see all of that progress go away again," Nashiran told her. "I need to meet someone of like spirit, Daria." "But we are!" Nashiran shook his head. "We shared a lot of great ideas but..." "Dosei!" a voice shouted from down the hall. Nashiran looked to his right as did Daria and an older person decorated in business attire was smiling happily. "Congratulations. I just got the news. The last score you composed for that show that almost didn't want you writing the music is now going to be sold to a recording group to have distributed as a music disc by itself, since the show is doing so well," he told Nashiran. "We are going to earn a great deal of money! Finally, Nashiran--it's all finally beginning to pay off." "Oh yeah," Nashiran unenthusiastically moaned before starting to walk off. Daria and the man watched him quickly walk away. "I'm so happy, I could just die," he added with his back turned to them. The older gentleman looked at Daria who looked back, slightly shrugging. He looked back to Nashiran and watched as he passed out of view. "What's eatin' him?" Over a thousand meters below were tall trees beneath the yellow sky that met the crest of the mountain peaks on the horizon. And on one of the cliffs in this forest was a trail of Terranian clothing. Doffed, Lotia sat up as Sheratan sat down behind her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. They leaned back together while he embraced her, using his fingers to explore Lotia's smooth skin. "This was the perfect way to celebrate the fifth millennium," she replied. "The way we all came into being." The calendar next to Sheratan read the year 5001 as he smiled. "I just can't believe we've been together for ten years. I mean, after that rough start back on Earth, it's a miracle we're still alive." Lotia laughed. "It's so warm and vast up here, I almost don't want to go home," Sheratan said. Lotia looked away and smiled. "I know we keep talking about this and what your feelings are about it but I was just curious if you still felt this way." "Felt which way about what?" Sheratan asked. Lotia leaned back and rested her hand on his, which was on her chest. "Starting a family." Sheratan was no longer distracted by the sensation of her bosom in his hand before looking down. Lotia looked behind herself breifly. "Sheratan?" Sighing, Sheratan replied, "Lotia, I haven't changed my mind, you know." Lotia rolled her eyes and leaned up. She turned around to look at him. "Sheratan, you said that we didn't have the time or the money to raise a child. We couldn't spend all of the bonuses we got from the Uton Government for our year back on Earth if we tried and that means we have all the time in the world to raise someone." "It's just an enormous responsibility and I just want to guard against making the same silly mistake most people make in bringing another life onto this world without taking everything into consideration." Lotia dropped her head down before looking back up at him again. "Sheratan, there's a difference between being careful and being paranoid. I'd hate to think that you're too scared to raise a child after what we'd been through." "Lotia, relax," he told her with a smile. "We've already talked about this before, and..." "...And we never get anywhere. We just stop talking about it and every now and then, it comes up and gets dropped all over again," Lotia interrupted. "How can you possibly get all bent out of shape over something like this but then go through battle after battle with aliens from the far reaches of the galaxy?" Sheratan sighed. "You know, that's not fair." "Never mind," Lotia replied. "I never wanted to discuss it anyway. I was just curious, that's all." "Any particular reason why?" Sheratan asked. Innocently, Lotia shrugged and stood up. Dusting off her legs, she strolled away from Sheratan who laid by himself on the sheet, leaning back on his hands to stare off into space--pondering what's going on anyway. The giant blue sphere in the black vastness of outer space was beneath the metal contraption above the massive, glowing celestial body. The planet Earth dwarfed the saucer shaped space station, SkyLab VI and, on the observation deck, an astronaut floated up against a console with screens facing up from within the terminal. However, the black rookie looked above the terminal and out of the slanted back windows that overlooked Earth. To himself, he gasped, "I've been up here for six months and spent a quarter of 2008 aboard this station. Still--she never loses her beauty," he remarked about the magnificent planet below. Earth. "Commander," another astronaut said. He looked behind himself at her as she floated by a doorway. "Come to the cockpit. Lieutenant Yoshido saw something weird on digital telescope 2." He squinted. "The one watching Mars?" "Yeah, Commander Martin," the older woman told him. "We don't know what it is and we were hoping maybe you could figure it out." Seven small, shiny things were in front of a red planet in the blackness of outer space as seen on the monitor built into the console. The glow from the screen illuminated their three faces. Yoshido shook his head. "They're getting bigger, sir." "It looks like a satellite that got destroyed by a meteorite shower but that happened back in 2004 and it was in orbit of the moon. Not Mars," Commander Martin said. The third Astronaut nodded. "Yeah, I know. Our Mars probe is still out there." "Is there anyway we can tap into it?" Cmdr. Martin asked. She shrugged. "I don't know. It'd probably give us a closer look at what those are." "Captain," Lt. Yoshido said to her. "Better request for communication with Houston and get them to find some observatory that can check this out for us. If this stuff's coming this way, we better figure out how much time we'll need to get out of the way." "I'll send out the RFC," Cmdr. Martin interjected. "You two get this stuff on VDAT." "The Visual Data Audio Tape recorder is still off line," Lt. Yoshido replied. Cmdr. Martin stopped himself from floating away. "Then use whatever we have and start getting this on film just in case the observatory needs to see a video feed of this when they get back to us." Yoshido nodded affirmatively. "Okay." He floated over to an adjacent terminal and started typing on the keys. At seven o'clock in the evening on a Summer day in Southern California, the sky was a light navy blue above the San Gabriel Mountains in the Angeles National Forest. And on Mount Wilson was its observatory at an elevation of greater than 5,000 feet above sea level. A large white building with a dome top featuring a huge tube pointed to the sky. And, inside of the dark observation room, a long station supported a long row of television-type display monitors. Each screen delivering the high resolution picture from the digital cameras watching through the powerful telescopes. One of the astronomers was holding a black telephone's receiver with his hand over the microphone while looking behind himself. "Dr. Hanson." Reading notes from off a clipboard was an older man wearing a lab coat, standing next to a similarly clad woman. He looked behind himself when the other astronomer called his name and said, "(Thank you, Dr. Garfield.) Yes, Dr. Manahan?" The man holding the phone answered, "It's JPL in Pasadena. They got me on a conference call with NASA in Houston. They need us to check something out." "(Must be important anytime they're going through this much trouble.)," Aaron mumbled to himself. "Thanks a lot, Manahan. Let me get that." Over by Dr. Manahan's desk, Aaron walked over and took the phone as he rolled back in his chair. Aaron stood their and said, "Dr. Hanson speaking, can I help you?" "I need to you tell me what you see when lookin' at Mars," a man said. Aaron folded his hand under his other arm holding the phone and looked down. "This is..." "Cy Steinberg, NASA Control in Houston," he announced. "The crew aboard SkyLab VI told us they saw some debris or something rapidly moving away from the planet Mars and beyond. That probe we've got in orbit of Mars must have just missed whatever that stuff is leaving the planet." "This is Stacy Edwards at Jet Propulsion Lab in Pasadena," another voice announced. "We've been trying to calculate how much time SkyLab VI has to manuever out of the path of those objects but we'd still like to know what they are." Aaron nodded. "If you can hold on a minute I can check this out." "Whatever you need to do," Cy told him. Aaron looked over at Dr. Manahan and asked while moving over to his chair, "(May I?)" "(Oh, sure sure)," Dr. Manahan said upon getting up. Aaron had a seat and pulled the black-keyed keyboard towards himself and began to type. The keys had extra loudness per click because of a device inside of the keyboard to give a physical confirmation the keys were pressed. This reduced the chance of a typographical error. On screen, the co-ordinates were reading the X, Y and Z numbers that the telescope was targetting as the database indicate what areas of the galaxy were within range of the scope. "It's coming within in range now," Aaron described on the phone. He put his hand over the receiver's microphone and looked behind himself. "Jason, can you get VDAT 23 recording camera 10 please? Thanks." Aaron held the phone by his shoulder and replied. "Yeah, just had them record this. I'll stream the video into a file and e-mail it to you." "All right," Cy replied. Stacy said on the phone, "What do you see?" "I'm scanning the surface of Mars facing Earth right now," Aaron replied. "I got another camera going and... Woah, what the?" On monitor 43 and 16 were two different motion pictures of a silver arachnid with its abdomen's rear section glowing along with its eyes, only with less brilliance. Cy asked, "Dr. Hanson, what are you looking at?" "It's hard to say; those shiny objects aren't debris but rather spider-shaped creatures. The computer is calculating some to be around eight feet high by 20-feet long while others are 20-feet high and forty feet long. "What??" Cy asked. Stacy asked, "Are they just drifting or what?" "Well, it's space so if they were blown out of something that exploded, they'd travel just as fast because in space, there is no resistant atmosphere to provide a wind drag on their inertia," Aaron answered. "However, I think I see its legs moving." The light breeze in the crisp air was cool as it blew the leaves in the large oak trees along the block in that neighborhood. Below the cloudless sky was the small-looking victorian house. Robert McLaughlin was taking his coat out of his closet inside of the second story bedroom where he and his daughter, Rebecca were. She was following him between the bedroom and the bathroom, passing suit cases each time. Rebecca asked. "Why do you have to go to Los Angeles this weekend though? Can't it wait until Monday? I need to be out tomorrow and you can't get anybody to watch Andy on this short notice since tomorrow is Saturday." "No because they said that they needed my authorization to move the SkyLab since the contract stipulated the crew had to be in orbit for eighteen months. It has only been eleven so they can't move it but since they're almost sure the space station is in danger of being in the path of something flying towards Earth, they want to move it before trying to shoot the stuff out of the sky with missiles," Robert answered. "I also need to be in Pasadena to give a statement on what's going on. Hopefully they've already written me something to say because I don't know what's going on anyway." Rebecca frowned. Robert stopped and looked at his daughter. "Look, Rebecca, hon--I'm sorry I'm leaving like this but three people are depending on all of us to keep them alive. The least I can do is make NASA's life a little easier and be there for them when they need information about the Saturn VI rocket and that space station." Rebecca nodded. "I'll be back as soon as possible, sweetheart--but, for now, call my driver and have him pick me up in a half an hour. My flight leaves at nine," Robert told her. An unmarked building on Wilshire Boulevard in Los Angeles was the Southern California headquarters for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. The close sea air from the ocean provided a cool breeze to sway the palm trees as observed through the blinds of an office window. "Chief Madison," Agent Sanchez said, "why do you want us to find out about the unidentified flying objects headed to Earth? Isn't something the Pentagon should be more interest in?" The caucasian in suspenders over a dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up turned around and nodded. "Oh, they're definitely interested, Kathy. However, I need you two to stress the importance of confidentiality to NASA, JPL and especially Mount Wilson Observatory who found the things. The media will feast on this story like jackals the second they get wind of it. We can't let that happen because mass hysteria from that would make Los Angeles 1997 look like a schoolyard confrontation." "Is that it?" Agent Mahoney asked. Madison shook his head. "Not on your life. You need to make sure they give up one hundred-percent of the information they have to the department of defense. They don't have anybody but us to make that happen since we deal more with the law than national security. That's their business." "All right," he answered, to head-off his long-windedness. "Who do we see at the observatory?" Chief Madison picked up a business card up out out of his rolodex. And, after donning a pair of small reading glasses, he looked down at it with both eyes fixed on the paper. "An Astronomer--by the name of... Aaron Hanson." Upon hearing the name, Kathy and Frank looked at each other instantly. WELCOME TO MACARTHUR PARK was on the brown sign posted on the concrete below the sculpted top. Styled iron supported benches in the park where there were many people engaged in a variety of activities. Picnics, a game of frisbee, a soccer game, a mime and a clown with tip cups on the paved walkway, entertaining children. Elsewhere, there were hotdog and ice cream vendors and at the center of the field of small hills was MacArthur Lake. A pond just south of Wilshire Boulevard that led to downtown Los Angeles that reflected the overcast glow of the sunlight behind the June-gloom clouds. On the far side of the banister-railed lake, one could see her in a navy-blue uniform as the Los Angeles police officer, Beverly Tenmei, strolled along side the turf on the paved walkway. Meanwhile, across the street on Alvarado--the Metro Red Line subway plaza was filled with persons both entering and exiting the station which featured a wide variety of art work donated to the Los Angeles County Metropolitan Transit Agency known as the MTA. Below the ribbed cage supporting the ceiling were also pillars where television monitors and close-circuit television cameras were mounted for security and informational purposes. Accompanying these electronic devices were red, scrolling LED signs displaying the date and time as well as miscellaneous information. People were standing in front of the white strip of bumps on the edge of the platform leading to the three tracks, one of which provided electricity for the subway train. Above, the red sign cleared itself before immediately displaying: TRAIN ARRIVING. Suddenly, a subtle rumble rapidly became much louder, echoing throughout the underground platform. An eardrum-pounding horn blared out before all the passengers watched the front of the silver-steel bodied train come out of the concrete tunnel, its forward white halogen light illuminating the path ahead. In front of the many passengers, windows flew by faster than perceptible causing them to all blur together until the train's brakes slowed the vehicle to a complete stop as indicated by the squeal on the iron track. Then, the high-pitched tone alerted everyone the doors were about to open. And, in unison the multiple doors parted simultaneously as a mass quantity of angelenos poured out of the several cars joined together. Out of one of the doors walked Mr. Robert McLaughlin, hauling with him a slender traveling suitcase with his brief case in the other hand. He walked up the concrete stairs as the train on the tracks below whistled again prior to closing its doors. Its round of passengers had been picked up and suddenly pulled itself out of sight. The whirling noise of the engineless vehicle was all that was left echoing throughout the station as Robert walked out onto the floor above. In this huge underground hall above the platform, McLaughlin hurriedly moved past slow-walkers trying to find ticket machines before rushing towards the elevator. The doors were already closed by the time he got there so he soon moved towards the escalators instead. The grind of a natural gas engine from a gold-stripped Metro bus followed cars moving through a yellow light as Robert McLaughlin waited on the corner of Wilshire and Alvarado to cross the street. The light turned green and the walk signal appeared as the white walking man so he, among others, began to step out into the crosswalk from off the curb. On the corner of Alvarado next to MacArthur Park, Robert continued to walk along Wilshire. A waif-like man wearing a knit cap with a wind breaker, jeans and dirty white tennis-shoes of no known name brand was standing up against a tree with a toothpick in his mouth. Out the corner of his eyes, shaded by his brown sunglasses, he spied a white man in a business suit hauling a brief case and luggage. He twirled the toothpick in his lips before flipping it into the grass with his fingers and walking off. Robert looked at his watch and shook his head. "Ahhh, I hope I'm not lost. Where is Vermont?" He got off the subway too soon as Vermont was just a couple of stops more on his westbound journey that terminates in Santa Monica, as of 2004. Nevertheless, he walked on--now halfway through the park. However, a yard behind him was the skinny guy with his motorcycle-gloved hands in his jacket's pockets. Robert didn't hear him walking because the suspicious man was wearing sneakers. Obviously given their name for the sound they make, none. However, he started jogging towards Robert and this eventually caught the attention of Officer Tenmei. She was taking a walk back to her black and white police car parked on the outside of the park when she'd had turned around and leaned forward to get a better look at what was happening, to confirm her suspicions. Robert's face was contorted with frustration because of never having been to Los Angeles before. "NASA's in Houston, for Christ's sake. Why do I have to come out here? Why not Florida, if some weird location." Right behind him was that slim man who jumped after him. Robert turned around and his eyes opened up wide before a shadow appeared over his face. On the turf, Robert dropped his belongs before he hit the grass with the slim man on his shoulders. They rolled over and over until the anonymous citizen stood up. Standing alone, Beverly's eyebrows pointed down as she frowned and then moved ahead. In the park, she started running down sixth street before finding an entrance. In the grass, Robert shook his head and grunted. "Goddamn it! My suit!" All of a sudden, his head was pointed up and he saw his brown wallet in the mugger's hand. Robert reached up shouting, "my wallet!" He suddenly turned around and his legs stomped away with amazing speed--this is because right behind him was Robert, running after him. Along the paved walkway, the mugger huffed and puffed his breaths while Robert hauled himself after the thief. "Come back here!" The man looked behind himself before dashing off to his right so behind him, Robert suddenly stopped running because of what he saw. Right over the white wall, this man's two legs rolled over the top of the ledge through the air in his jump past the bushes. He landed on the sidewalk on the other side and looked behind himself, smiling proudly. "Yeah," he grunted. He turned around and looked a black steel tube attached to a .45-caliber pistol pointed between his eyes. Officer Tenmei was holding it with both hands and one eye behind the target pin at the end of the gun. "Put down the wallet, sir." Without moving, the thief dropped the wallet shortly before the plop of it hitting the pavement was heard. Behind the ledge, Robert jogged up to the sidewalk, breathing deeply with his brief case and luggage in hand. The thief's hands were up against a wall and she took down one of his arms by the wrist before locking it and his other wrist in a pair of handcuffs. "Don't move." she told him before walking away. She knelt down and picked up Robert's wallet and gave it to him. "Thank you," Robert said before reading her golden name tag. "Beverly... Tenmei?" She nodded with a smile. "Yes. All you all right, sir?" "I am now--I mean... I think so, it's just that this is one of my best suits and now I gotta spend money on the brunch I was about to go get on dry cleaning (and why am I babbling about this nonsense to you)? Uhm, hey, listen, thanks a lot. I really appreciate it." Beverly nodded. "You're welcome..." "Hey, wait, uh," Robert's mind become a void since all he knew was that he wanted to keep talking to her. "Uh, how do I get to the Hilton downtown from here?" "Call information to the number to Metro," Beverly answered. "They'll give you directions. Anyway, I need to be going." "Yeah... Oh, by the way, I'm Robert. Robert McLaughlin. I'm in town for the JPL press conference so maybe after that, uh... I don't know," he started to say. "Tsk. Never mind. Thanks again, Officer Tenmei." Beverly nodded again. "You're welcome, sir. Good meeting you." She walked away and while Robert stood where she was, he watched her pick up the handcuffed criminal and seat him in the back of her police car. Behind a door marked Administrative Offices - Private, Aaron sat down at a chair behind the oak desk surrounded by bookcases and potted plants. On his desk was a Toshiba notebook computer with a credit-card sized device in its side hooked up to a converter that connected a thin wire up to a telephone cord that plugged into the mall. In a window within the graphical user interface on the activate matrix color display screen, plain text appeared and Aaron typed in a number and then a passcode that was not echoed to the screen. The screen blanked and then information that came through in non-roman characters indicated that he was connected. "Voice authentication Commander Lyonix Leto," he said. His laptop computer chirped and he was suddenly looking at a new graphical user interface. "Now, let's see what the scanners aboard the SpaceBase say." The planet Mars in the black space within one window was magnified several times before its color was replaced by a grid of green lights. Various other graphics became animated as Aaron watched. "Looks like some kind of a forcefield collapsed and then these creatures started lifting up out of the surface of the planet. Why did this happen?" There was a knock on the door and Aaron looked up after closing the top of his notebook computer. "Come in?" A black woman in business attire opened the door. "The FBI is here to see you, Mr. Hanson." "Really," Aaron replied. "Let them in." The woman nodded and stepped out of the way; and, Aaron put away his computer before standing up to take the lab coat from the coat rack by the window. Agents Mahoney and Sanchez walked inside and Frank closed the door behind himself before Sanchez took a seat in one of the two chairs facing Aaron's desk. "Uh, have a... seat," Aaron was starting to say just as Frank sat down himself. He tugged at his coat's lapels and cleared his throat. "Well, okay. What can I do for you?" Kathy exhaled. "Okay, Dr. Hanson. We're here to get information from you guys at the observatory and deliver it to the department of defense and NASA." "And we need a signed statement from the director of operations declaring the absolute confidentiality of all such communications," Frank amended. Aaron looked at Kathy speaking next. "Now, Hanson--given our past, I know what the rhetoric is going to be," Kathy prefaced. "`We don't know anything.' This time, we have direct orders from the federal government to find out what this place knows, regardless of..." "You don't need to go through all of this," Aaron interrupted. "We'll prepare the necessary documents for your purposes and provide you with accurate information as soon as we have put the data together in an intelligible form." Slowly, Frank and Kathy looked at one another, surprised at the ease at which they managed to obtain an agreement. The black sky above a red, mountainous horizon led to a deserted land of red dust on the surface of the ground. The powdered dirt began to slide down into a shallow black crater with walls sparkling as if there were mineral deposits in the scooped up stone. Elsewhere in this desert, a crack in firmer ground popped before rapidly leading a crooked trail some several meters ahead. Once done, a second crack completed its run within the ground. These two cracks in the dirt joined a third previously established before were pushed up like the sheet of a tent being raised. Like an earthquake, the ground began shaking as the massive chunk of now black dirt under the red top ascended into a small hill. The small mountain rising began to lose its soil covering as, when the crumbs of dirt on its sides began to fall a way--a shiny bar of steel shined brilliantly. On the other side, a round shell the same silver color shined upon being exposed to the light. It was studded with bolt-tops between fins of reflective metal upon the ridges of its vertebrae. And it extended into a ribbed tail of metal caged in a black, steel frame leading to a fork of pins at the end. More debris fell away from the ends of its singular-clawed legs with two joints in all six legs. And, this structure, finally uncovered by all of the rock and soil falling away, had come into full view by all as its oval, antennae bearing head rising up. Three, eyes blinked and its two steel jaws in front of its oral cavity bent as it bent stretched every joint in its body. Two flaps behind its back suddenly unfolded from out of two slots in its shoulder blades, become two arched bat-like wings. On the planet from below, the creature jumped from its feet, and continued to ascend upwards. In the black sky above, it began to glide over into a straight line. And as it began to use inertia to carry itself away from the planet Mars behind, the creature began to join a fleet of others. A group composed of many dozens similar to itself. And in front of themselves was the planet Earth. Below a sign on a tall poll in red on a gold logo was the word "MacDenny's" was a restaurant with a retro-50s style to its look sitting on Vermont Avenue and 6th Street. A black and white Chevrolet Caprice with a red and blue strobe light on the roof approached a ramp before its yellow right turn signal began flashing. The car turned 90-degrees into the lot before its brake lights had glowed. Meanwhile, a rented Ford Aspire drove southbound with its yellow turn signal flashing. The silver car turned right and slow downed after entering the parking lot. After the Aspire drove forth, Officer Beverly Tenmei pulled open the glass door and walked inside of the restaurant. And, from the parking lot, Robert McLaughlin saw her standing inside while looking through the window, so, he unlocked the door and popped his seat belt prior to opened the door to stand up out of the car. Outside, he closed the door of his car and used the keys to remote-control lock the silver Aspire. A waitress standing inside of the restaurant said, "I'll be right back and then I'll take you to your table." "Thanks," Beverly smiled. Her black, leather utility belt's radio started blaring so she turned it down as to avoid annoying other customers since she was on lunch and off duty. Meanwhile, a bell rung as the door was opened again and walking inside was Robert in his black slacks and jacket over a white dress shirt and red tie. It was unbuttoned since the afternoon sun burned off the clouds from earlier that day. Robert prayed she hadn't noticed him and she was apparently preoccupied with thoughts so he played it off as cool as possible. He approached the counter and then started talking to the cashier. "Ah, yes. Table for... Hey, Beverly!" She turned around and looked at Robert and smiled. "Hi! Wow, twice in one day." Robert nodded. "Yeah. Taking lunch?" "Mm hm," Beverly answered. Robert looked over at the cashier looking at the two of them and said. "Table for two, please." She stepped out from behind the cash register and had walked them over to their seat. A table connected to the wall separated two seats also built into the wall below the window with half-shut blinds. Beverly sat down before Robert did and the lady passed out two menus. "I'll be back to take your order." Beverly looked up at her and smiled while nodding. "Thank you." She picked up her menu and opened it to read the contents. "Beverly," called Robert. She looked up from her menu asking, "Yes?" "I hope I didn't seem too weird after you got that guy who tried to rip me off..." Beverly grinned. "I wouldn't worry about it. Most people get unnerved when someone tries to pull a stunt like that." "Oh, well, I know--it's just that, I was more 'un-nerved' trying to talk to you," Robert replied. "The truth of the matter is... Well, call me old fashioned, but, I'm not used to a woman in your position. I know that there're plenty of ladies in law enforcement but to have that knowledge become a reality was--electrifying." Beverly looked at him and said, "What an odd thing to say." Robert chuckled and smiled. "I'm sorry if I'm coming off like a goober, but, officer.. It's just that, well, ever since I can remember--I have always liked the idea of a woman in uniform." "Really," she replied. Robert opened his menu and started skim-reading the choices therein. "Eleven years ago, I was working for my parent's corporation before they passed away in the violence that rendered Los Angeles a war zone. I was out of town, in Washington, D.C., trying to get the government to keep from cutting funding to NASA. During my stay, I heard it on the news: Building destroyed by giant alien monstrosity. I was the only McLaughlin left to run the company and it was up to me to keep us going. And when I returned to Los Angeles, the war was still going on and while others wanted us to leave and re-locate our new headquarters, I wouldn't go. I saw a woman in a shining suit of yellow slay these monsters with daggers that could cut steel like butter. Her masked face relentless in its never ending resource of energy was powerful like a cat fighting, dangerous as razors but as petite as a pillow of cotton balls. The emotions in me were so strong I began to feel desire for women of strong conviction. I don't know why. I just know that when I saw you stop that lowly thug trying to get something for nothing, I saw the warrior lady in yellow all over again." The depth of his message once he had time to articulate his thoughts had stunned Officer Beverly Tenmei, freezing her solid upon her seat cushion behind the table. This afternoon, the bright blue sky had no clouds above the San Gabriel Mountains in the Angeles National Forest. On Mount Wilson was its observatory at an elevation of greater than 5,000 feet above sea level. It was a large white building with a dome top featuring a huge tube pointed to the sky. And, inside of the dark observation room, a long station supported a long row of television-type display monitors. Each screen delivering the high resolution picture from the digital cameras watching through the powerful telescopes. One of the astronomers saw close visual images on one screen and looked behind himself. "Dr. Hanson..." Aaron was already walking towards him and the astronomer pointed to his screen. "Those objects are apparently alive. Look at this." Backlit buttons on the console in front of the terminal display screen had a circle, arrow, an arrow pointed in the opposite direction and another one in the same direction, two lines and a square. The astronomer pushed the first arrow button and the blank display of outer space changed to footage of one of the creatures' heads moving. "That isn't debris," he said to Aaron. He nodded. "I know. Keep that tape handy," Aaron replied before walking away. Aaron walked up to a vacant station and picked up the black receiver of a telephone and started dialing ten digits. After waiting a few moments, he said, "Hi, I need to speak with either Agent Mahoney or Agent Sanchez... Yes, I'll hold." An unmarked building on Wilshire Boulevard in Los Angeles was the Southern California headquarters for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. A black Ford Crown Victoria was begin driven into the garage after the security guard walked back inside of the lot booth. Above a pair of doors, the up arrow indicated an elevator arrived and moments later, Frank Mahoney and Kathy Sanchez walked out, and into the hallway. Inside of the offices therein, Chief John Madison was on the phone and turned around, looking at the two agents approaching their desks. Madison turned around to talk back into the phone. "Hold on a second, I need to find out the answer to that very question, sir. Okay? Hold on." Madison pushed the red hold button on the black phone and hung up the receiver. He hurriedly rushed away from the desk and started to walk towards Frank and Kathy who just passed by. "Hold it, you two." Frank turned around with Kathy to look at him. "I know you're not going to like this but we just got a phone call from the observatory again and you have to go back there to secure the data," Chief Madison said. "But we were just there!" Kathy replied. Madison nodded. "I know that! But we can't take the chance the public'll get ahold of this information. Otherwise..." Frank sighed. "We know. We'll go." "And another thing," Madison replied. "If anybody asks, just say its space debris." Again, Frank and Kathy looked at each other highly confused. The depth of outer space was infinite, making it hard to see which direction one were looking in while panning across the star field. Bit by bit, silver objects sailed into a dip before curving up. This stream of silver bits banked out in front of the moon hundreds of thousands of miles from the Earth ahead. And as they coasted in the vacuum of space on inertia, one of them had cruised a little faster than the rest before slowing to join the largest at the front of the pack. Using a clicking noise actually not transmitted in the form of sound within the pressure of an atmosphere, the creature spoke. "Zaon, the Xyrth have communicated the society has arisen from hibernation and are joining us very soon." "We must reclaim Earth as soon as this happens," said Zaon. "We must recover our queen, regardless the cost. She will restore the empires on all planets in this solar system from their five billion year rest." The leaves of the palm tress above the one store house on a residential street were swaying in the clear blue sky. And, making a left turn from the intersection near by was a blue EV-1. The silent electric car was being parked beside the curb in front of the house and inside, Sasha turned of the ignition, also turning off the music from her MiniDisc player. After unbuckling her seat belt, Sasha opened the door and got out of her car. Rays of sunlight illuminated the living room with a golden hue from the wooden floor that led to a fire place, bookshelf, an entertainment center, a coffee table and a black, leather couch. Behind it, the front door next to the big, curtain draped windows was clicking from the sounds of a key turning the locks. Once the door knob was unlocked, Sasha turned it to open the door and walk inside. Briskly, she approached her coffee table--casting her keys to the cloth-topped furniture while grabbing the remote in almost the same movement. Sasha dropped herself upon the soft couch from exhaustion and pointed the remote control at the television set in the entertainment center. "...and according to the Associated Press, all observatories contact seem to have been unable to provide any information about these objects. It was discovered from Dominion Astrophysical Observatory in Victoria, British Columbia Canada reporting it to YTV. Again, the pictures you see here are a live feed coming from DAO in Victoria..." On television throughout the news anchor's report was a motion picture of the silver, arachnoid-like creatures with moving legs. "Woah," Sasha gasped. She picked up the receiver of her telephone and dialed seven digits. It rang and rang again before ringing once more and ringing still again upon a final ring. Eventually, the last ring quickly followed another ring led to a click. "Hi, this is Linda..." said her voice mail greeting. "Argh," she spoke to herself, "probably driving the bus right now." "...after the tone. Thanks," played before a tone beeped. "Hi, this is Sasha. Listen, when you get this message, hurry up and turn on the TV. You're not going to believe what they're saying on the news but there's something weird going on in space according to some Canadian observatory. Anyway, call me when you get home, okay? Bye." Sasha hung up and took a deep breath while looking at the television again, spellbound. "I've gotta call Beverly." The giant blue sphere in the black vastness of outer space was beneath the metal contraption above the massive, glowing celestial body. The planet Earth dwarfed the saucer shaped space station, SkyLab VI and, on the observation deck, an astronaut floated up against a console with screens facing up from within the terminal. However, the black rookie looked above the terminal and out of the slanted back windows that provided a view of the full moon. "Uh oh. This looks bad." One of the astronauts aboard hung onto the doorway while floating off of her feet. "What is it Commander Martin?" "One of those things out there just moved." She looked confused. "Moved?" His face was reflected in the window as he looked at the arachnoid-like creatures. "Hard to describe but, their legs are moving sequentially. I don't know if they're machines or what." The SkyLab captain looked to the side, pondering what it could be. Behind a window next to the office door, a man in a secretary's chair sitting in front of a steel desk was on a black telephone. The white Texan wearing a crew cut lit a cigarette and started puffing on it, despite the signs warning not to. "So fire the damn thrusters! I don't care if you'll be moving it out of alignment for that observational project, I don't want dead astronauts on the news because we refused to abort whatever mission we had in mind when sending them and the new SkyLab up there! Uh, huh? Well, fine then." He hung up the phone, stood up and got out of his office. The dozens of people sitting at their terminals observing the monitors at Mission Control suddenly heard a bang. "All right people, thanks to some Canucks who can't keep their mouths shut, we have millions of people's eyes glued to the T.V. set. They know SkyLab will get turned into balled up tin foil at the speed those silver UFOs are approaching. Now, we just got a call from Captain Morse and she said they saw these things legs moving. If the press calls, we don't know that but we need to get Robert on the phone now because without his O.K., we can't fire the thrusters and move SkyLab out of the path of those things." Someone wearing a headset turned around and looked up at the mission supervisor and said, "Wait a minute sir, Robert McLaughlin is at a press conference in Pasadena at the Jet Propulsion Lab issuing a statement on the situation." "Oh, well, so much for pretending like we don't know anything," he mumbled. "Call JPL and tell them that when he's done giving the public the warm and fuzzies to give us a buzz back. We've got less than 30 hours to move this thing, otherwise those three people up their are road kill." In the parking lot of a building facing the San Gabriel Mountains, dozens of reporters with cameramen were gathered in front of a podium surrounded by Los Angeles Police Officers. Facing microphones from several broadcasters, Robert McLaughlin's face was flashed by white lights coming from newspaper photographer's cameras. Meanwhile, the crowd was shouting out questions all at once and Robert pointed at somebody. "Yes, you there." She said, "Sharon Wilkes for KFWD News 98, Mr. McLaughlin--what plans, if any are there to safeguard the crew aboard SkyLab and protect them from the objects about to pass by Earth?" "Currently, our dedicated astronomers and mathematicians in Houston are hard at work on coming up with a solution to move them out of the path of the things that have been seen coming this way. It is hoped that once we have a solution, we can proceed with alacrity." More reporters started shouting out things and, on the sidelines, a bearded man in glasses, apparently from JPL based on his identification tag, approached the podium. He briefly spoke to one of the policemen before being allowed to step through. Robert saw him and leaned over to let the man from JPL say something in his ear. And, as a reporter screamed out, "how come Mt. Wilson Observatory had no information about the UFOs when the Dominion Astrophysical Observatory reported it the day they said that?" "I'm sorry, I have to help the crew come up with a way to protect the SkyLab crew, I can't answer any more questions," McLaughlin said as he stepped down. The crowd of reporters got louder as he walked out of sight, followed by the man from JPL and a pair of police officers. At One Park Plaza on New Hampshire and Wilshire Boulevard, a pair of elevator doors opened up and Sara Berg stepped out in a black coat and skirt with a white blouse. With her was a co-worker, similarly dressed. "I know you usually hate it when I set you up but you've had a ten year long hiatus from a serious relationship." The two of them approached an elevator to underground parking and Sara pushed the down button. "The longer you wait, the harder it is to get that," she told Sara before the elevator chimed and the doors opened. They both walked in before she continued, "Don't you want someone to eventually support you?" "Mmm, I don't know. I mean, I'm looking for somebody in particular," Sara replied. Quickly, the elevator chimed again and the doors opened out into the parking lot. The two of them walked out and walked by the parked cars. "Sara, stop and listen. I said it has been ten years, whoever that guy is you keep talking about isn't showing up." "Yeah, well, I might've gone on a hundred or more dates since then but all of them put together wasn't as amazing as when I was with Tom." "Well, okay," she replied as they'd stopped next to Sara's green Toyota Civic. "Anyway, my car's parked a bit from here. See you later?" Sara nodded. "Yeah, have a good weekend." "Thanks," she replied, "you too. Bye." "Bye, Kristen," Sara said. As she walked away, Sara opened the door to her car and got inside. After closing the door and strapping on her seat belt, she started the ignition with her key and backed out of the driveway. The mechanical arm lifted from in front of the automated attendant that printed information on her barcoded ticket before the green compact automobile drove up and out of the ramp. After turning, Sara approached a red light, with the intent to turn again. While she waited, Sara pulled open her glove compartment and pulled out a photograph. On it was a picture of Tom Nevison from ten years ago and Sara was oblivious to everything around herself but the memories she had of his brief time within her life. The worst times she'd ever suffered were spent in the support of this stranger; a person unlike anyone she'd ever met before. Suddenly, her digital mobile telephone rang, so, Sara blinked and shook her head. She pushed the talk button on the speakerphone and accelerated into her right turn. "Uh, hello?" "Hey, this is Debbie. Do you have your radio on?" "No," Sara answered. "Why?" Debbie said, "silver objects are stumbling out of control through space towards Earth according to the news." "HUH? What the... Are you serious?" Sara asked. "As a heart attack, Sara" she responded. "they're trying to get everything ready to get rid of them as fast as possible." Sara shook her head. "Oh my God, this is horrible!!" In the four white walls of the fluorescent lit room, an analog clock on the wall was above the water cooler in front of a long table faced with fold up chairs. And seated here were staff from JPL and on the table were pencils, pads of paper and a speakerphone. Standing in the middle with his coat off was Robert in his suspenders with his tie loosened. "I'm sorry about that, but there was nothing we could do once that observatory in Victoria told YTV about it. I guess their Government really as interested in covering up this sorta stuff as ours is." The Texan from Houston replied, "either that or they didn't think this was worth covering up because they had no clue what this stuff is. Anyway, I'm sorry for bring it up, it's too late to get the pee out of the pool now." "My sentiments exactly, sir. I say we reschedule that pending shuttle launch for tonight and change the mission to rescuing the two men and one woman aboard SkyLab." A young blonde from JPL replied, "There's no way we can do that. The soonest shuttle scheduled is two months from now. In order to catch up, they would have had to have finished the refurbishment to survive take-off and landing, fuel it up and get a crew ready. Right now, we have no men. It's just not possible right now." "That's why I said we should fire SkyLab VI's thrusters," the guy on the phone said. "I know that wont get enough distance between the UFOs and the space station but at least it's out of the right wing of those thing's approach." "Okay, wait--how is this going down again?" Robert asked. A woman at JPL stood up and pointed to a map of Earth, the trajectory of the silver arachnoid-like creatures and the location of SkyLab above the planet. "Okay. This is SkyLab, these are the UFOs approaching and their current flying formation--maintained for approximately six hours now according to Aaron Hopkins at Mt. Wilson Observatory. The whole fleet of these things approaching is approximately an eighth of a mile wide. If you split them up the middle and just look at the right side? In the middle of that is where they will impact SkyLab." Robert sighed. "How far can the thrusters move them away from those things?" "Our calculations say that if they burn for about ten minutes, they can get a distance of about a mile." The man at Mission Control added, "But, unfortunately, SkyLab was only given emergency maneuvering thrusters and were not intended for propulsion purposes. They can't burn for more than twenty seconds at a time and what's worse, there's only three minutes worth of fuel." "It's all we've got. That should still move it far away from those UFOs," Robert replied. Graphics of blended color for a national broadcasting company came together in a varying montage of history-making news events captured on video before the logo for the news formed above the words SPECIAL REPORT. A dramatically deep voice then announced, "This is a special report." Standing inside of a plush, white room filled with men and women in business suits wearing press badges on necklaces was one facing the camera holding a microphone. Flashes of light lit up the room from the hundreds of photographs being taken by newspaper photographers. "Good evening, this is Jim Wylie coming to you live from Washington, D.C. at The Pentagon where we have just received word from the Department of Defense that Naval, Marine, Air Force and army military forces nationwide have been deployed to ward off any threat that might be posed to American cities. And now, I have just received word that our spokesperson will be returning to give us an update as to the progress of the United Nation's efforts to assist defenseless countries against whatever menace might be facing them." Through the valleys of one area outside of a village, big brown tanks began to drive in in a caravan of armored battle vehicles while at sea, huge battleships, destroyers and aircraft carriers were leaving the coast. Fighter jet plains on the decks of aircraft carrier ships were being towed into position as pilots ran across the deck, preparing to board the flying machines. Below the sea were submarines closer to the coast to stop any threat approaching in the ocean. The glowing blue sphere known as Earth beneath the metallic space station in the blackness of space was reflected from its solar panels. Aboard SkyLab VI, the pilot, Captain Morse had her hands on the joystick of the flight controller within the command module. In this three-seat cockpit, the other two were strapped into the cris-crossing seat belts inside of the capsule. Morse pushed one of the many backlit buttons, some blinking--all a rainbow of colors. Speaking into her headset, she said, "Houston, this is Captain Morse. We're ready to fire the thrusters as calculated." "SkyLab VI, we copy; you may fire when ready." Captain Morse looked out of the sides of her eyes at the Commander and Lieutenant. "Okay, guys, this is it." Lt. Yoshido nodded and looked at the meters indicating electricity, air pressure, temperature, sensor status and other indicators while Commander Martin kept his thumb over the red abort button. Once fired, there is nothing preventing the station from drifting into space if anyone's calculation was in error. "Fire." Captain Morse's thumb hit the red, button topped joystick. In space, an afterburner tube on the side of the space station's hull suddenly fired a yellow torch, flaming from a bright blue source. Another thruster fired on the other side, facing Earth. Two more on the top, aft section suddenly gave their thrust to boost SkyLab VI out of the path of the Xyrth arriving by the dozens--visible from the length-wise perspective of the space station. It gradually moved itself to the left. Aboard SkyLab VI, within the cockpit--the astronauts were being rattles somewhat by the kick back or recoil from the propulsion. Lt. Yoshido said, "Full throttle achieved. Eight seconds of fuel remaining." "We're on course," Commander Martin confirmed. "Velocity 7.5 kilometers per hour and increasing." "Three seconds, Lt. Yoshido said. Captain Morse spoke into her headset. "Houston, this is SkyLab. We have now completed the burn and achieved approximately 9 kph of speed before fuel depletion. Cruising velocity, still 9 kph." "Good, SkyLab," replied Mission Control, "at your current speed, you should drift about three quarters of a kilometer from your original location before the debris passes by." Trouble, Captain Morse spoke more intently over their radio link. "Houston, what about Earth?" "ICBM missiles have been targeted on each object before it enters our atmosphere and it should destroy them before doing any damage to the planet surface," Houston answered. "We're just glad you're okay." Captain Morse nodded. "Captain look!!" Commander Martin shouted while pointing out of the window. The space station was beginning to slow down to a complete stop for no apparent reason as the Xyrth were became ever closer to SkyLab VI. Looking at the cockpit console, Lt. Yoshido shook his head. "I don't understand this! We--just dropped down to 0 kph in less than two and a half seconds." "How did that happen? We were coasting on inertia," Captain Morse asked, "there's no gravity or reverse drag from an atmosphere up here." "THEY must've done that," Commander Martin replied, looking out of his window. Yoshido looked at Morse and asked, "Well, what are we going to do now? There is no way we can move this thing any farther and we still seem to be within the span of their approach." "Hope that we can't see how many inches away they'll end up being when passing us," she answered. "Commander, perform an emergency data core dump to Mission Control now. Just in case we lose this thing, we wouldn't have lost everything." Martin nodded and turned around before typing on the black keyboard. The space station hovered in front of Earth as one of the many Xyrth sailed freely towards the world ahead, flying straight for SkyLab VI. Yoshido turned around and looked at Captain Morse. "Captain... One of those things on the outside! It's--headed straight for us!" She left her seat and floated over by the window. On the outside, she saw it as its reflection materialized in the glass in front of her face. After one of the silver, metallic creatures of multiple legs had flown down, past the space station, more followed, like drops of water from heavy rain. One Xyrth's legs sliced through the middle of the aft section of SkyLab, blasting sparks from out of the inside. From a far, one could see the descent of the insect like creatures swarming down towards Earth as the fleet passed the metal space station. One of the many shiny objects sprayed close enough to SkyLab that, suddenly, there was a fire ball that had suddenly ripped the station apart. Casting millions of steel fragments away. And as the creatures flew through space, sheets of aluminum and other alloys were hanging in space as they sailed by. A yellow Chevrolet Metro drove around a round street before turning right, into the drive way of a small, stucco-covered house. In front of the garage, the car's brake lights glowed before it stopped. Once the engine finished humming, the driver-side door opened before Beverly Tenmei stood up, wearing her police uniform before closing the door. Inside of her house, she walked in through the screen door on her back porch leading to the driveway. Beverly closed the door and turned on her kitchen television before walking towards the refrigerator. "...that is, like, so uncool!" finished the line of an actor on a twenty-something sitcom on network television set in New York with three guys and three girls. Suddenly, the screen froze on: ABC 7 EYEWITNESS NEWS SPECIAL REPORT and the logo for the television station. A voice over bellowed from the announcer, "We interrupt this program for a special report." Then, a man wearing glasses with a dress shirt and tie in the newsroom looked up all of a sudden at the camera. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, we have just received word from NASA that the space station orbiting Earth, SkyLab VI has been destroyed from the shower of unidentified flying objects approaching at a rapid velocity. There were two men and one woman aboard the space station that was in orbit for a year. The Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Pasadena in cooperation with Mission Control in Houston attempted to rescue the crew by using emergency thrusters, however, according to a NASA spokesperson, that plan had failed. Again, SkyLab VI has been destroyed, killing two men and one woman..." suddenly the station was changed. Beverly held the remote control of the small television set without certainty because, for some reason beyond her knowledge, she needed to see more about this tragedy. Another network affiliate in the county of Los Angeles was also talking about it and, patiently, Beverly watched. "...live coverage from Mount Wilson observatory, but now we have, at this time received word of video footage from aboard SkyLab VI, for this now, let us take you to our east coast NBC affiliate for more information," said the news anchor on this station. "Thanks, Bill," the anchorwoman replied. "This tape was received from Houston by CNN just moments ago via satellite by special request and we're now simulcasting our broadcast with them, you'll hear their reporter Will Blizter now..." "...pictures are horribly graphic and we strongly caution you to excuse any younger members of our viewing audience from the room..." the CNN reporter narrated as surveillance video played back of the event from within the cockpit. On the screen, Beverly watched intently as the three astronauts all began to crowd around the window, as the silver creatures came into view. Above it all was a black bar, stamping the time in real-time, by the millisecond. All of a sudden, on of the Xyrth became really visible, showing the details of its merciless face upon its cold, steel legs. The sheer speed at which this creature allowed its pole-like legs to impale the window, shattering the glass. It jabbed the floor--causing the video's horizontal and vertical alignment to go haywire. Meanwhile, the astronauts all grasped onto bars and control panels as they were apparently being drawn out into outer space by the deck's air being sucked out into the vacuum of space. Xyrth's leg carved up through the deck further distorting the image. However, one could barely see as it pulling up wires, causing sparks to blast out and a fire ball to erupt from behind the camera. The picture was almost lost before the picture showed Lt. Yoshido's torso with a deep slice through half his torso and Commander Martin's back on fire. However, the camera was either smashed or the transmitter was severed from the station or surveillance system before snow was the result of the picture. Eventually, the screen turned black. Looking down at his display monitor, the CNN correspondent looked up and paused for just a moment. "Frightening pictures. The, uh, NASA plans to release a statement within the hour." "Meanwhile, I was just informed that the President has just signed an executive order, declaring the entire country in a state of emergency and ordered all stand-by military rescue forces into active duty," continued the correspondent on another television set in his apartment bedroom. Peter was wearing a college jacket while sitting on his bed, reading a book. Or at least was. He looked at the television as the correspondent continued, "for this now, we turn live to the White House where a press conference has already been called." As the noise of the television echoed as only noise in his mind, the television reflected in his eyes. It was beginning to dawn on him that after waiting years to find Amy again, Peter would have lost her forever if this--is it. His mind began to remember the past... "What's your name?" Peter asked. The question caught her off guard, but, she turned to glance at him. "Amy." "I'm Peter," he replied. "It's good to be able to give a nice name like that to one of the better memories I'll have for a while." Amy smiled at him and he smiled as well. Within the tunnel--the subway train pushed through the dark tunnels when shaking of the ground and the walls had begun. "Damn," she said sitting down with her back against the wall. "That is _not_ good." Peter looked at her. "Amy, what's happening?" "The train operator," she answered, trying to catch her breath, "he's knocked out--unconscious. We'll have to wait until rescue teams can haul the subway out of here or break in somehow to get us out." "Got any friends in school?" Amy asked to make for small talk. "A couple of guys who I like to chat with but it isn't as serious as I'd like it so I wouldn't say so," Peter answered, guarding against rambling. Amy grinned at him. "Not even a girlfriend?" Peter looked at her immediately. "NO. Uh... Uh, I mean..." He'd tried to correct her to eagerly, Peter thought. Being the self-perfectionist, he tried cleaning up after that. "I'm not seeing anyone right now." Amy smiled nodded and looked ahead. "I see." Peter looked down as his mind began to wander. "Actually, that's not because nobody is interested in me but it's because I like older women." Amy looked on the floor and raised an eyebrow. A gentle rumbling built up quickly that which resulted in a strong vibrating rocked the subway again; loud screams were heard by the women aboard while Amy reached over and secured Peter's body against the wall with her hands. "Don't worry, Peter, I got you." "This is one strong after shock!" Peter complained. Peter closed his eyes to take a deep breath but his heart kept thumping rapidly and strongly when he opened his eyes. Regardless, he could not afford to let more time pass so he spoke up. "Hey, uh, I never had the chance to thank you--for sticking with me when the... The, uh--you know, uh, subway got trapped..." Amy smiled. "In emergency situations, the best thing to do is help others in panic or distress. Vulnerable circumstances force people to rely on each other since that's all you have at times like that." "I know. I just wanted to express my gratitude with this gift," Peter said handing her the pink and silver wrapped box with a red bow attached to the top. Amy was surprised at this show of appreciation. "Uh, Peter--I can't..." "It's okay, I didn't buy it, I made it," Peter said. He gave her the box and said, "Go ahead--open it..." Amy shook her head, using her hands to push the package back to him. "No, it wouldn't be right." "Don't you even want to see it?" Peter asked. Amy pondered. "Well... I..." she started to answer before her cellular telephone rang. "Just a sec." Peter nodded when it rang a second time. She removed the phone from her purse while it rang a third time and pulled up the antenna. Amy put it up to her hear and said, "Leven here." "Does Doctor Hopkins know where he is?" Amy asked over her telephone. She looked at Peter. "Oh great, I'm on my way," she replied before hanging up. "Peter, I'm sorry, I gotta go. It's an emergency." A Metro bus was stopping in front of a bus stop on the corner of the station. "Hey, wait a second!" Peter replied. "How will I find you again?" Amy ran down the steps towards the bus when she stopped to turned around and looked at Peter. "Try the white pages!" Amy climbed aboard the bus when the doors closed and drove away. Peter watched the orange-striped bus drive into traffic and then looked down at his box. "Yeah, thanks," Peter replied; suddenly, the sun shined off Dave's badge and his eyes darted to avoid the sunlight. What he saw was "Dave Marcello" engraved on the name plate. That rang a bell; in the white pages--he and Amy Leven had shared the same telephone number. "Hey, wait a minute, sir--is that your box?" Dave grinned. "Who's asking?" "I'm sorry, my name is Peter Lum--you've probably never heard of me, but, I'm a friend of Miss Leven's." "Amy?" he asked. "You're right, I haven't heard of you. How are you friends?" "Well, we're not really 'friends'-friends but... She and I took the subway home together and bailed me out of some deep trouble with a couple of losers so I thought I'd write her a note thanking her for helping me out," he answered, "especially when that earthquake messed up our subway." That rang a bell; when he was MarsAstro, Dave had seen her and Peter together. "Well, listen--you can send it to this box right here. We've stopped having a lot of our mail delivered at home and--actually... You could just give it to me. I'll make sure she gets it." "No that's okay, I'd rather she be the only one who reads it. By the way, I don't mean to pry but, how come you and her have the same phone number? I know this 'cause she asked me to look her up," Peter explained. "Well, me and four other people share the same house to split the bills. We were friends in high school so now we've got different jobs to save up for university tuition," Dave answered. "How's that?" Peter looked over and noticed the genuine diamond ring on Dave's finger beside his ruby stoned ring. "I guess those rings are heirlooms then; no way could you afford it trying to save up for college." "Well, not both of them," Dave said. "One of them is an engagement ring." "Really?" Dave smiled and nodded. "Yeah, you know--speaking of Amy, she's the one I'm engaged to." He sighed; "I just hope we do get married. We got into a little disagreement over how we were going to get married." Peter's forehead wrinkled while he squinted, his mind became very preoccupied. "Peter?" Peter blinked and shook his head. "Uh, yeah..." Dave sighed. "Oh well--things will work out in the end. Well, at least, I hope so anyway." "Well, I know it's none of my business but Amy seems like a woman that you'd have to be a fool to take for granted," Peter commented. "I'd gotten more out of spending less than an hour with her than years with any given girl at my school. Don't let go of that--they just don't make 'em like that anymore. She deserves a good man and it seems like you'd have to be in order for her to want to want to spend the rest of her life with you. If not yourself, make her the happiest person in the world." Dave was silenced by surprise over his mature commentary. "I dont know what to say... You're right. She's worth it--whatever it may be." During Dave's pause to cogitate on his words, Peter began to realize the reality of the situation. "Anyway, I need to be going..." Peter said while he moved backwards towards the exit. He dropped his papers on the floor and left. "Hey, uh, Peter, you left your..." Dave called out the door to him. He'd purposefully left the letter behind while getting on his bike and riding away. Dave closed the door and appeared confused. He looked at the paper in his hand and slowly unfolded the sheets. ``Dear Amy, I know that you hardly remember me but in case you forgot, I'm the one on the subway when it derailed because of the earthquake. Anyway, I can't think of much to say except thanks for being there for me. Out of all the people I've ever met in my life, you are the only who I've yet to forget about as soon as I've stopped seeing you. I guess you could call it a crush but whatever it is, I know it's real. You probably don't feel the same way, I know, but if there's any chance we could be together in the future, I'd be willing to wait.'' Dave skipped a page, not feeling right in reading it all. ``In any case, I know this seems strange and that it's pretty shocking but I can't help how I feel--I can only hope that we can be friends even after knowing that I like you, Amy. More than anyone else I've ever known. Love, Peter.'' Dave looked up and began to realize something. That there are no guarantees in life and that he could lose Amy. It would be a mistake to not do everything in his power to make sure that his fiance would be his forever. Now 21, Peter sat in his bed looking down in his bedroom while the television was still on. "Even though I never got a photograph of her, I still can remember her face." The setting sun was hidden behind two story business buildings below the Hollywood Hills and rolling thunderously down the street was a white, gold-striped Metro bus. The grind of the New Flyer bus's natural gas engine hauled the coach that was filled to capacity. Dozens of people watched the bus rock front to back from its high velocity before squealing to a halt. The Line 1 bus stopped on Hollywood Boulevard and while nobody disengaged the coach, the crowd on the street corner tried to squeeze onto the low-floor bus. Meanwhile--a supermarket on Vermont Avenue and 3rd street was also at capacity. The check stands had lines so long, they spilled into the grocery aisles. People had carts full of bottled water, canned goods, medicine, batteries, radios, flashlights, prescriptions, bandages and other emergency supplies. Shelves were bare as more people than could fit in the aisle slid between one another, exchanging "excuse me" phrases in an aggressive tone. A courtesy clerk was being harassed by a shopper, demanding to know where their water is as he attempts to explain to her they're all out. At Wilshire Boulevard and Western Avenue, black and white Ford Crown Victoria police cars were parked on the premises of the Metro Red Line subway station. Underground, people were in line to buy tickets while packet elevators carried over a dozen men and women at a time below onto the platform level. The subway arriving rumbled as its horn echoed off the concrete walls. The hundreds of heads seen below watched the subway approach, each car filled with seated and standing passengers, completely full up to the door windows. The doors opened and people tried to enter with little luck. Meanwhile, a hispanic gentleman was being held by a MTA Police officer. "I can't let you on the subway without a ticket!" "No, man--I gotta go!" the man said, trying to free his arm of the officer's grip. The black MTA policeman replied, "If you don't cooperate, I'm going to have to put you under arrest!" On Washington Boulevard, two Metro Blue Line trains--doubled up to a total of four cars per train crossed each other on the four tracks, with every window showing a passenger standing. At the Wilmington/Imperial Train Station, the rail yards were, again, being monitored by Los Angeles Police officers. The horn of the blue line train honked and the hundreds of passengers standing beneath the 105 Interstate Freeway junction at the 710 Long Beach Freeway watched it approach. Meanwhile, upstairs, people were literally running up the stairs to the station platform of the Metro Green Line. However--they were too late. The LAX-bound train's door whistle had been sounded as the doors closed, barely clearing the backsides of the passengers occupying every square inch of the train. It moved away in a whirring sound of electrical propulsion while the people looked down the train tracks to see if another train was going to come soon. Los Angeles International Airport, as identified by the unique tower structure beside the multiple arches of the Theme Building, was the ultimate destination of the millions of Los Angeles citizens attempting to leave the area. The Interstate 405 San Diego Freeway was at a complete stand-still with traffic bleeding onto the Century Freeway that connected directly to congested Sepulveda Boulevard. Century Boulevard was in the same condition because inside of the airport, the vehicles that normally circled the terminals were locked solid by taxi cabs and limousines and shuttle vans and car rental busses and personal automobiles. The bridge for arriving flights was actually being used by vehicles to stop at airline terminals so that passengers could take the stairs to go down to the departing flights deck. However, to no avail. the doors were never closed as people were pouring inside. People were actually buying tickets worth hundreds of dollars, even thousands of dollars, instantly, despite reservations and unavailable flights. Airport Police are called in to assist with security for those few passengers able to make it onto flights leaving out of town. The Interstate 5 Golden State Freeway was brake lights and headlights seen for miles in both directions from above as California Highway Patrol cars are parked on the off-ramps in order to keep more cars from adding to the traffic nightmare. CHP officers are standing outside of their cars with red light tubes trying to guide trucks and other vehicles off of the freeway. At the Greyhound Bus Terminal, there are still more lines of many people with their possessions in everything from actual luggage to black, plastic garbage bags, just to hold everything they could grab in the short time they had to evacuate from their home. Agents sold tickets as fast as good before they were actually sold out. Denying customers was not easy as several people screamed obscenities at the counter agents, demanding a ticket to ride for the California border. Meanwhile, the bulletin board listed multiple busses reported either late leaving or cancelled for arrival. In the lobby, vagabonds and drunken people were rampaging about in a mad fit of insanity. His face moist with tears, he screamed out, "there's no where we can go! They will be EVERYWHERE! There is no where we can hide!! The whole world is doomed!!" Below the top of the Gateway Plaza tower, there were more Metro busses there than at a division's yard as passengers ran from their open doors, either heading for the elevator or the escalator, running down the stairs. Meanwhile, other passengers ran across the brick paved Patsaouras Plaza to enter Union Station from the rear by heading down the escalators there as well. In front of Union Station, the parking lot was full of taxi cabs arriving so quickly, they could hardly brake, let alone park neatly. Everyone from Independent Cab, to Yellow Cab to LA Taxi Co-Op to Checker Cab Co. to Bell Cab and Fiesta Cab and Beverly Hills Taxi and other cars barreled into the lot in front of the spanish-styled building constructed as early as the 1930s. Again, the door never stayed closed as people jogged inside of the train station. The huge windows allowed the people who couldn't get in to read the status of the Amtrak trains arriving on the bulletin board. Nothing but inbound cancellations and delays for trains leaving Los Angeles. Meanwhile, men and women in Amtrak uniforms behind the 12-gauge glass welded to the wooden counter were shaking their heads sympathetically to everyone, regretting to inform them that they have sold of tickets for the next several trains that day. The lucky passengers that had sat nervously waiting for the announcer to page the platform number that their train would arrive way. Their attention was suddenly diverted by loud sirens blaring out from outdoors. The strobe lights beamed through the windows, causing everyone to look outside. We can't be having a crisis now?! everyone thought to one extent or another. This is an emergency in and of itself, for goodness sake! However, no matter what anyone thought--a spot light sitting in the parking lot between rows of black and white Police Cars was focused onto the front ledge of Union Station. There, a man in a trench coat with a five-o'clock shadow hung from the fixtures on the face of the building, taunting death with his reckless movements. An officer screamed up through a megaphone, "stay where you are! Do not jump!" Fire fighters drove a rig into the lot between the dozens of taxi cabs and minivans to set-up a ladder to bring him down with. Meanwhile, on 5th on Broadway Streets--more black and white Ford Crown Victoria and Chevrolet Caprice automobiles with red and blue strobe lights spinning was seen after their ear-piercing sirens forced to traffic out of their way. They were followed by Los Angeles Fire Department paramedics and fire trucks driving to 7th Street, at the heart of the jewelry district. Here, buildings were set aflame by looters and other thugs. Skinny from their crack and cocaine addiction, these dirt--scantily clad men shattered store-front windows with bricks, cinderblocks and any available blunt objects to bust inside. A man ran down the street with a television in his hand while, inside of a store, an asian merchant tried to shield his wife from a gun-toting lunatic who was covering for his gang friends to steal jewelry by the hand full. Out in the middle of the intersection, a man hurled a molitof cocktail into a car. Lit on fire, the rag finally burned down inside of the bottle where the flammable fluid was and became a fire ball that lit up the inside of the old station wagon. In front of the burned out, damaged storefronts, several men were on their knees hand-cuffed by rope because the police officers ran out of handcuffs. Meanwhile, fire fighters aimed hoses at the historic buildings of Los Angeles to attempt to preserve them from the flames licking up the side of the old buildings. Paramedics lifted up gurneys of bruised men and women--mostly merchants of the local vendors injured in the rioter's hedonistic pursuit of merchandise due to the irrational state of the city. Past the sign reading, Ernest Debs Park, one could see the high rise towers of downtown Los Angeles and a thick black cloud of smoke hovering among the skyscrapers. Yet another hoodlum was wielding a switchblade while Robert McLaughlin took steps backwards. He was on his way back to his hotel from JPL but mass transit had failed him. It was at capacity as everyone in the city of Los Angeles was attempting to escape the epicenter of terror. "This must be my lucky day 'cause outta all this shit goin' down, I happen to run across someone who's probably got money comin' out his ass," he snarled. Robert shook his head. "Look, it doesn't matter if you get what I've got. Where are you going to spend the money if the _world_ is about to come to an end?!" The thug grinned. "Your world maybe, but as soon as I got what you have, I'm takin' the next limo outta town." "You'd never make it. The cops would catch you in the thick of traffic," Robert told him. "Yeah, like the cops'll worry about me with the whole damn city trippin'," he said. Meanwhile, on the sidewalk, Officer Beverly Tenmei ran down the street to approach another policeman, knelt down with a bloody hand. "Rick! What happened?" His teeth were clenched while he growled, "One of 'em shot my gun outta my hand." Beverly picked up her radio. "This is unit JL59, requesting paramedics at Monterey Road at the east entrance of..." Her eyes scanned for a sign and read 'Welcome to Ernest E. Debs Recreational County Park.' but then Robert McLaughlin with someone pointing a knife at him. She hesitantly continued, "...Ernest Debs Park. Hurry! Officer injured." "10-4," dispatch replied. Beverly looked at him. "Rick, they're on their way but I thought I saw somebody trying to attack someone, I'll be right back." He nodded and she stood up and ran out of sight. Through the park, she ran through the grass before her black shoes came together and pounded the turf. In the sky, the police officer somersaulted over head before, in midair, Tenmei rose up, thrusting her fist ahead. A fist punched back the jaw and chin of the thief, and on the grass--the switchblade fell on the grass before he handed on his back, holding his face. Beverly landed in front of Robert and back