Terror on Arrival: An Apocalyptic Science Fiction Novel
Ventures Vindicate!

“So, what you are saying is, you take nothing seriously?” Cheauflux asked.

“Not when we’re slinging metaphors like a farmer slings chicken feed to the hungry fowl,” Jayde answered.

“Now, you’re analogizing! I get the mechanics, I just can’t turn the key to get the engine to purr,” Cheauflux said.

“This is going to be easy.” Jayde smiled. “You just used a figure of speech, and analogized in one sentence. You didn’t say those things randomly, so you’re half way there!”

“I’m just imitating my environment,” Cheauflux claimed.

Jayde felt proud as her teaching skills became celestial. Once the language became copacetic, the lesson was universal. That was when the intercom rang, and drastically altered their instruction.

Alexi was learning as much as Cheauflux, however, duty was more important than learning American mannerisms, so he picked up the receiver.

“Sergeant Doshmononov,” Alexi answered.

“This is General Harper! I hate to ruin your party, Alex, but it may be a premature one! Get Lieutenant Farrow, and Cheauflux! They need to hear this too!” General Harper transmitted.

Alexi quickly waved over Cheauflux and Jayde, who were already on their way.

“Everybody is here, General. What is your news?” Alexi asked.

“We thought we were done, but I just got a call from General Slaydon from Fort Meyers, and a stray is tearing up Naples as we speak! They tried that surplus canister of that strawberry air freshener, to knock it out, but it just ticked it off! We don’t know what to do! Godzilla’s destroying the city!” Harper was erratic.

Alexi looked dramatically at Cheauflux.

“Ask him if he knows what this Chauzek looks like,” Cheauflux requested.

“Do you know what this Chauzek looks like?” Alexi asked.

“Slaydon said this thing isn’t the size of a Rottweiler. It’s the size of a mini-van!” Harper said. “The contractors were caught mid-celebration, and they haven’t gone home yet. They are waiting for orders! If Cheauflux has any suggestions, they are ready and waiting!”

“That means the Chauzek has gone through an evolutionary process. Tell them to construct another transport, smaller, of course, but sturdier. I will contact them as to what chemical they need to add,” Cheauflux said.

Alexi relayed the message to Harper, said they were in the same boat as he, and that he would get back to Harper. He signed off and replaced the receiver.

“The Cheabeyance stuff you had NASA create isn’t working,” Alexi said. “We already know any poison on Earth is ineffective. You got those NASA chemists to make Cheabeyance, can you make Turbo-Cheabeyance?” Alexi asked.

“There is no such substance as Turbo-Cheabeyance, and I’m not an inventor,” Cheauflux said. “This Chauzek evolved on your planet. Our species compute evolution. When there is a threat, our evolution corrects that threat, so no matter what you call it, Cheabeyance, even the most potent, would be useless now,” Cheauflux explained the foreboding news.

“I thought the old Chauzek were impossible to defeat, this new one is unrestricted,” Jayde said.

“Jou people ur not tinking,” Chalet entered their doomed discussion. ”Zee Chauzek eevolved to kombat zee ’uman eelemeent, vit Cheasu chemeekalz. Jou zhould eevolve jour ztragetey vit eet.”

“I think your accent is getting thicker, Doc, because I can’t understand a word you’re saying,” Jayde spoke to Chalet.

“Naychure eez an amazeeng force, but naychure steel ’as ruwellz,” Chalet said.

“Okay, Doc, I’m reverting back to the student. What are you talking about?” Jayde asked.

“Zeez eez zee first time eet eevolved, un eet eevolved on Earz tu kombat Valan-Cheanaus teknologee. Eet never ’ad tu kombat Earzan teknologee. Eet eez eendeegeenuz to zis planeet. Joost go tu zee ochean vor zee mozt poteent poison,” Chalet explained.

“I understand your theory,” Cheauflux said. “Evolution is a powerful, but efficient force. It won’t keep safety protocols from what it doesn’t need. It will have those protocols inherently, but since they haven’t been used since we stranded them on this planet, those protocols are sleeping!”

“Und zee eevoluzion poot zem deeper tu zleep!” Chalet explained. “Now, I know jou ’aven’t zee zlightest idea vat ur zee deadlieezt aneemalz on zis planeet, zo I’ll eenlighteen jou. Zey ur ze ztone und poofer feesh,” Chalet said.

“Even I know the stone and puffer fish are dangerous. That’s the main reason I won’t have that Korean delicacy. That could be the most uncomfortably, deadly dinner you’ll terminally eat,” Jayde said. “So, you think fish poison can kill this thing?”

“Not keel eet. Zee protocalz ur zteel akteeve, zo eet vill knock eet ut, like zee alien droog. Ve kinot teezt eet, zo ve dun’t know ’ow loong eet vill lazt, zo teel jour kuntraktorz to breeng zee zhip veet zem tu Naples.” Chalet wanted to leave no stone unturned.

Alexi still had the use of the SEAL team, so he ordered them to capture a few stone and puffer fish. They were lucky to be stationed in Belize, so they didn’t have to go far to net the fish. Exotic aqua-life was what Belize was famous for. It took several hours, but they hauled in a few schools of those fish. This was the personification of ‘deadliest catch’.

They had to get to work quickly. Cheauflux went back to NASA to tell them the animus. The contractors were welding a mini version of their transport. The blueprints was congenitally in their minds, so they turned their work into an assembly line. It told them the new subduing drug was being invented in Belize, and to bring their packs along with the ship. They also needed to add some spice to their recipe, so Chalet called Syria.

Captain Issan Asahdi was a pilot at Khalkhala Air Force Base in Syria. He was contracted to transport extremely hazardous material to Belize, Central America. He had to scramble, but be incredibly careful. He was shipping dangerous acetylcholinesterace inhibitor effluvium. The laymen term for the substance was VX gas, the most dangerous nerve agent ever synthesized. It caused a runny nose, muscle convulsions, tightness of the chest, sweating, miosis (pinpointing of the pupils), and eventually, cardiac arrest. It had what was called bad juju. It was some pretty nasty stuff.

Captain Asahdi was brave enough to haul the hellion overseas, and smart enough not to ask why. Whatever they were going to use it for, this stuff would definitely ruin your day. The less you knew about it, the longer you’d live. Issan liked living. The only cause for his demise would be natural causes. He seemed more frightened of his friends than he was of his enemies. That was a smart choice for his longevity.

This was a departure from all the bomb and mine defusing, the boring stuff. He was thirsty to play craps with Mephistopheles, and Beelzebub was available, so he shook his dice in the underworld.

He was lucky VX gas wasn’t volatile, because it didn’t explode when he hit violent turbulence.

It would have only been one Syrian casualty, because he had no co-pilots. Nobody wanted to play Russian roulette with a fully loaded gun. Issan didn’t care. He would kick the Devil out of Hell, because his rent was due.

Issan wasn’t crazy, he was meticulous in deadly situations. He had a healthy diet of instability and the treacherously wicked. He sounded like a certain Spetsnaz commando we know of.

Issan had to fly over a tropical depression. He was near the ceiling of his C-130 Hercules. It was strange, but he understood why a lone pilot flew a C-130 across the Atlantic. He had four days of crew rest prior to this assignment. He was wondering how his leaders would have disposed of this illegal substance, if Belize hadn’t ordered a batch. You couldn’t just toss this in the trash, and burying it in the ground would contaminate Syria for years. Even their leaders wouldn’t call that process ‘disposal’. They dodged a bullet on that one.

Issan saw the beautiful sky above, and the dastardly clouds below. He was flying in Heaven’s Envelope, where wind shear and turbulence had no existence. He was in aviator bliss.

It only took eight hours to fly the journey from Syria to Belize. To a normal pilot, it would have been like an angry razorback pacing behind your back for eight hours, and you could do nothing about it, except prepare for death. Issan wasn’t most pilots. He was as calm as a still pond when he landed at Belize International Airport.

The soldiers that were assigned to Belize were waiting to unload the plane, and reload the VX gas shipment in the cafeteria. Captain Asahdi released the rear cargo hatch of the plane.

“I heard this stuff is deadly, Gunny!” a Marine corporal said.

“You better proceed with caution, Son. I don’t want to call your folks, and tell them you died coughing up a lung on a training exercise!” Gunny Cartwright said. The Marines brought Basic. They were the only ones available for such a quick exercise.

The soldiers ascended the ramp, and slowly, carefully unloaded the C-130. They got the entire shipment on the tarmac, and waited for Captain Asahdi to get clearance to take off. Gunny Cartwright altered those intentions by boarding the plane to talk to Captain Asahdi.

“You know this mission is on a need to know basis, correct?” Cartwright asked.

“All I know is I’m delivering Risk board games to the troops, Sergeant,” Asahdi said, knowing the consequence of a big mouth. That ‘natural causes’ death wouldn’t be a contender anymore if he didn’t.

Cartwright put his hand on Asadhi’s shoulder. “I know this is going to sound funny coming from a gunny, but great response, Sir.”

As they finished refueling the plane, Cartwright exited the aircraft, and watched Captain Asahdi taxi to the runway. The C-130 shook the ground as it headed back to Syria. The crew chiefs safety checked the C-130 before Captain Asahdi took off, as the soldiers unloaded the cargo, so Captain Asahdi didn’t get to sightsee.

It mattered not to him. Completing the mission was vacation enough.

“All right ladies, time to move this ingredient to the mess hall. The scientists are itchin’ to add some flavor to their concoction!” Gunny Cartwright was ready to keep the ball rolling.

The soldiers snapped to. Some of them branched out, and acquired two fork lifts. The others, carefully, loaded the VX gas on to the fork lifts, and escorted the deadly elixir to the mess hall.

The scientists, led by Doctor Chalet, looked like dogs waiting for their treats. All of them trained under Chalet, so they looked like the Belize Olympic Weightlifting team in white coats. There were certain perks working under the Darwin Warrior.

They made the soldiers look like kids, effortlessly picking up the boxes, and disappearing down the hall.

Nobody knew where they were going, and nobody cared. As long as the soldiers were successful in completing their job, they were happy. It was time for the scientists to get to work, and they were chomping at the bit.

Alexi saw the scientist transport the VX gas into the laboratory. Chalet walked beside him.

“Ower cuncokshun needed a leetle zalt,” Chalet told Alexi. “Ve ’ave a dash uv VX gas to make eet zpizey.”

“VX gas was considered illegal by the United Nations because of its barbarism,” Jayde said.

“That stuff reminds me of a Russian warfare chemical the United Nations labeled illegal, it is called Novichok. It can convulse your body like a discarded, crumpled sheet from a writer with another idea,” Alexi sounded gruesome.

“This planet has interesting ways of upsetting your life,” she said.

“You are being nice, Jayde, Your American accent has you mispronouncing ‘upsetting’. I think you pronounce that word ‘prekrashchat’’,” Alexi said.

“That word is pronounced ‘terminate’ in English,” Cheauflux added that comment to their conversation. “This may be the correct evolutionary state humans need to be in to change their fate.”

“Are you saying violence is a good thing?” Jayde asked in disbelief.

“Let me rephrase my statement, so you understand,” Cheauflux said. “Your race is at a vulnerable point in your existence, and it is beneficial for your people that you can use defense to propagate your species.”

“I understand what you’re saying, however, you must admit our defense is severely mordacious,” she said.

“Yes, your buttress has bite, but as you have said before; it’s a human thing, I wouldn’t understand,” Cheauflux admitted.

“Zee droog vill be readee een a ’alf ’our.” Chalet walked up to Jayde and Cheauflux. “Teel jour kuntraktorz to muv zee zheep, viretrookz, und cuntaynurz tu Naplez. Ve vill feel zem oop zhere.”

“So, your witch’s brew is almost ready?” she asked.

“Akvire zome tankurz vrom zee motur pool, und ve kin geet un zee aiyrkavt kareeur zee prezeedint zent vor uz,” Chalet explained. “Und I am goeeng tu make zure eet iz dune right.”

“A gas station attendant can fill a tank, Doc. You just want to get out of the lab, and see us take out Super-Chauzek,” Jayde said.

“Zee onlee diverunz iz, petroleum vont eeat jour vace uff, und jes, avter all zis verk, I vant tu zee ze Chauzek geet bote baeelz,” Chalet said. S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

No one even realized Cheauflux had left. The only thing that brought attention to its absence was its return.

“The contractors and the equipment have departed for Naples already, so I went to General Harper’s Humvee to tell him we will meet them there. I take it you are using tankers, loaded on to an aircraft carrier?” Cheauflux wanted to confirm the modus operandi.

“You got it, Cheauflux.” Jayde had a determined look on her face, “Forward to Naples!”

The soldiers from Fort Meyers were at Defense Condition One. They were the Calvary that came storming into Naples to stop whatever menace threatening Naples. The taxpayers paid for the Army’s protection. They didn’t ask for it many times, but at least, the Army was ready at a moment’s notice. This time, it wasn’t warriors coming to the rescue, it was more like throwing dry twigs into an inferno. All they wanted to do was to keep the leviathan titan occupied until the avengers arrived. That was where the real firepower was coming from. At this point, it was like throwing pebbles at a renegade supertanker. The soldiers were trying.

One soldier blocked the beast with an M1 A1 Abrams tank. He blocked Main Street with the Abrams, popped the hatch, and egressed quickly.

The monster had eaten a few SUVs, some cars, and a few delivery trucks. The soldiers wondered where everything went. It was the size of a minivan. Four entire sports utility vehicles, six cars, and two delivery trucks would cause the behemoth to explode, but along with a couple of brick buildings, it kept eating!

The military didn’t quit because they were guaranteed to dive in acid, and they, bravely, put on their swim trunks.

Specialist Vasquez was a TOW missile operator. The Tube-launched Optically tracked Wire-guided weapon was useless against the beast, but she kept firing. She was hitting it on its side with Sabot rounds; armor piercing, tank busting rounds that would destroy a T-88 tank with reactive armor, an explosive armor that mitigates the damage of Sabot missiles. Hitting that monster was the equivalent of underhand tossing jellybeans at Mount Vesuvius when it was active. She didn’t even tickle the thing.

It didn’t notice those Sabots, but it did see that M1 blocking the road.

This was the first time the soldiers stopped their barrage so they could witness what they were up against.

The Chauzek walked to the Abrams, and began to eat the cannon barrel! It crunched like a Chik-O-Stick. The carbonium barrel snapped in its teeth like a candy stick. It started with the barrel, and continued to the treads. That beast had an efficient way of breaking track on the M1. It was efficient, just not feasible. Every tank soldier was in awe at the snapping of the tank’s treads. They knew how hard it was to change the tack on an M1 Abrams, and it just snapped it like a taut rubber band against sharp scissors.

It didn’t stop there. It wasn’t repairing it, the monster was ingesting it! The body of the tank was its next morsel. It chomped and crunched the body like potato chips. It kept going. Armor, tracks, barrel, grills, shells and all.

The soldiers were amazed. Not about the military’s best ground weapon being eaten like Cool Ranch Doritos, but how a minivan sized creature could eat a massive M1 A1 Abrams tank, and still have an appetite!

One soldier caught himself. “Why is the battlefield quiet!? We have a demon to take out!” That was when he fired his AT-4 Anti-tank rocket. The smoke trail acted like a starter’s pistol. The Army started up the barrage once more.

M-16 assault rifles, M-60 machine guns, M2 Browning Ma Deuce .50 calibers, TOWs, grenade launchers, and anti-tank rocket launchers. They all kept pelting the Chauzek to no avail. The military went as far as to bring two mobile Howitzers. They aimed the cannons in a duet of devastation. They both fired at once, to dwarf the sounds of the Blitzkrieg.

Both the missiles hit at the same time. The impact and concussion gouged divots of road and buildings into colossal, smoky debris.

Once the smoke cleared, it was seen that the impact had pushed the Chauzek backward a few feet, but the Leviathan was unscathed.

The military was dumbfounded. Two of those Howitzers could sink a destroyer! Those cannons just pushed that monster. They couldn’t even knock it over!

The battle wasn’t going the way they planned. Naples had more damage from the Army than from the demon! The military’s philosophy was to destroy everything and let God sort it out, unfortunately for the military, everything was destroyed except their intended target. It was, proverbially, sitting pretty.

The military had no concept of insanity. Doing the same thing in the same situation, hoping for a different result was sensible in their eyes. They kept going. They had no choice.

The Army attacked in shifts, as the Chauzek advanced. They slowed it down by slinging Bradley fighting vehicles its way. That was one constant the Army could rely on, the Chauzek’s appetite. It gobbled them with fervor. It wanted more. The diversionary tactic was expensive, but successful. All they had to do was keep feeding it Bradley vehicles. They had an entire squadron left. They just hoped they wouldn’t run out.

The Belize team was well on their way. They had two tankers filled with their witch’s brew (those things would have to be destroyed after the melee), and the contractors were already on their way. Their only problem, was time. How long could the Army hold off the Chauzek before it obliterated property and people? Would the contractors be acting against the foe, or watching the carnage? This was where the animus got murky.

Cheauflux had a different idea.

“We are well away from the coast, Captain Yaunch. Is everyone ready for a travel technique I call tele-migration?” it asked.

“What on Earth is tele-migration?” Jayde asked.

“That’s the oddity; it’s nothing on Earth,” Cheauflux said. “Tele-migration is a quantum physics form of travel. It takes your molecules, transports them, and reassembles you in another location, instantly. I have done it, internally, since I have been to your planet. My celestial conveyance has enough endowment to tele-migrate this entire aircraft carrier. You may get queasy, but trust me, the method saves enormous amounts of time.”

“Now, I believe these soldiers are just getting used to having an encounter with a xenomorph. I don’t think they’re ready to dabble in alien technology.” Jayde became a tad nervous.

“I can get them to dabble. It is like being a jump master the first time a soldier dives.” Alexi was confident.

Jayde remembered him yelling her phobia out of her. “He can do it, Cheauflux, trust me.”

“I will leave the troops in your capable hands, Sergeant Doshmononov. Please alert me when they’re ready.” Cheauflux gave Alexi the floor.

Alexi smiled, and told Captain Yaunch to tell everyone to file on deck.

Captain Yaunch gave an ‘all call’ over the ship’s speakers, and set the carrier on auto-pilot. He wanted to see Alexi at work, so he followed Alexi to the upper deck.

All the troops filed onto the lower deck, where all the F-14 Tomcats, F-15 Eagles, and A-6 Intruders were positioned. They filed, but were extremely curious.

Alexi walked to the balcony of the upper deck. The captain, lieutenant, and Cheauflux were behind him. Captain Yaunch handed Alexi a microphone. Alexi shook his head to refuse it. Yaunch looked at all the troops waiting for the information, and heard just the distant hum of the engines. The breeze disrupted the sound. He figured a sergeant could overcome that dulled droning, and get his point across to the troops, especially when they were quiet enough to listen.

Alexi’s Slavic accent made him sound menacing, gravely intense, and rough.

“YOU ARE IN THIS MILITARY TO SAVE LIVES! IT WAS YOUR CHOICE TO BE A HERO, PEOPLE! YOU VOLUNTEERED TO SIGN YOUR LIFE OVER TO THE MILITARY!” Alexi began. “YOU ARE ABOUT TO PARTICIPATE IN A TRANSPORTATION CALLED TELE-MIGRATION. THIS IS MANDATORY! THIS NOT YOUR CHOICE ANY MORE! IT IS TIME TO STOP PLAYING WITH BARBIES! YOU ARE ALL ADULTS, AND WHINING IS NOT ALLOWED! ANY QUESTIONS?!”

Everyone was aghast, and dismayed. This Russian soldier had the stones to tell them what to do! The only soldier to yell at them that way was their drill sergeant. That was when they realized, no matter what country you hail from, if you were an ally, soldiers respected rank. Even officers understood the chain of command when it came down to a combat mission. Nobody had a query.

“I HAVE GIVEN YOU ALL THE PARTICULARS YOU NEED TO KNOW! YOUR SILENCE IS GOLDEN! REASSEMBLE HERE IN FIFTEEN MINUTES! WE ARE ALL GOING ON A RIDE!” Alexi yelled at the troops.

As they were dispersing, Captain Yaunch walked up to Alexi. “I haven’t seen a drill sergeant motivate a company like that.”

“When you are Spetsnaz, respect dwarfs all opinions and prejudices,” Alexi said.

“When you think about it, when you’re in the military, it’s not a democracy, it’s a dictatorship.”

“I have experienced both, and a dictatorship works better in the military,” Alexi determined.

“Told you he was a soldier. I don’t care where he’s from; soldiering is in the blood. He’s probably going to retire a soldier,” Jayde told Captain Yaunch, as they all walked back to the control room.

“Some soldiers worry about being short, but Sergeant Doshmononov wouldn’t know what to do when retiring becomes mandatory,” Yaunch said.

“He’s going to be that grizzly, old vet telling war stories,” she said.

“This is going to be one for the books.” Yaunch walked into the control room.

Cheauflux went to the lower decks to contact his ship. Alexi felt proud commanding troops from another country. They were allies fighting for the same cause, so they respected the tenure.

“So, nobody was iffy about your command?” Jayde asked.

“Military reverence trumps umbrage,” Alexi said. “There are not any Latino, Nubian, Jewish, Armenian, Or Ukrainian soldiers, there are justgreensoldiers.”

Jayde admired his attitude. She thought she owned the racism card. She never realized racism was universal.

If Daddy gets angry with me for hooking up with a Russian, then he becomes the thing he fought all his life against, she thought. Having a good man was rare. At least she was interested in someone of her own species.

“Lieutenant Farrow, could you tell Cheauflux he better transport the soldiers before the natives get restless,” Alexi said. “I have learned some American analogies also.”

Jayde smiled at Alexi. “Here’s another. You’re batting a thousand on your analogies, Sergeant Doshmononov. I’ll be back with Cheauflux quicker than you could shake a stick. I’m American, I can drop some analogies.”

“I can see that, lieutenant Farrow. I will be on the upper deck,” Alexi said.

“You’re a doctor, Chalet. I know they’ve only met a month ago, but can you see the chemistry between them?” Yaunch asked.

Chalet smiled, because he knew their chemistry was carnal in nature, but he was a master at keeping a secret.

“Zey ur joost zoljerz verkink vor ze zame tink,” Chalet diverted him.

Jayde went down to the lower holds, and found Cheauflux. It was calibrating neon templates in the air.

“Is that how you contact your ship?” she asked.

“This is the Cheasu version of a cellphone, I’m just never out of range.” Cheauflux kept calculating.

Jayde marveled for a second, and then she remembered why she found Cheauflux in the first place.

“Alexi told me to tell you, everybody’s ready,” she said.

Cheauflux swiped the air, as if erasing a virtual chalkboard. “The preparation for tele-migration is complete. Are you ready Jayde?” it asked.

Jayde was jittery. “Have you ever done this with a human before?”

“How does your species display disbelieving awe?” Cheauflux asked. “I haven’t even thought about tele-migrating a human, until we were pressed for time! I know you’re uptight that I’ve never attempted this. Just understand, this teleportation will not kill you. Oh, you’re definitely going to, how do you analogize this one, lose your lunch, but you won’t die.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of, Cheauflux, vomiting in front of the entire crew,” she said.

“You don’t have to worry about the crew,” Cheauflux told her. “Everybody is going to vomit.”

“Remind me later to show you how to comfort someone,” she said.

“I just stated a fact,” it said.

“Sometimes you have to omit the facts, and lie. Even if we know it’s not true, we like to cling to that,” she said.

“I’ll never get humans,” Cheauflux stated. “Your entire race doesn’t mind living in a paradox.”

“Just... come on, and take us for a ride on the Vomit Comet,” she said.

They began walking to the upper deck.

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