Arrival 3

The story of Cold Snap's arrival continues.

Continued from






This story takes place in the Angel Falls setting

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Art by the awesome . He did an amazing job on the comic book series that begins with this deviation. I am allowing download of the image so everyone can fully appreciate the detail and sheer awesomeness of Sean's work. If you like it, please stop by 's page and let him know. I would appreciate it very much.


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“What do you mean, we lost satellite H-2? Display all telemetry for the past hour at five times normal speed,” ordered Twisted Savant as he focused his full attention on the displays A.T.H.E.N.A. brought online for him. Numerous readouts scrolled at accelerated speeds as he watched, taking in terabytes of data in mere minutes. “Wait, what is that? Go back to time index 4:18.”


“Accessing…” A.T.H.E.N.A. replied. The artificial intelligence displayed the requested data set for her master, the villainous genius the world knew as Twisted Savant. “This 2.32 minutes before all signals from the stealth satellite H-2 terminated. There was a burst of veriyon particles and the gamma detectors recorded a level 4 event in the vicinity of Titan. Signal disruption occurred when..”


“Veriyon particles? Compare the energy signature to the one recorded at Soviet Superwoman’s arrival. Don’t tell me it is the aliens she mentioned. Not now when my plans are about to unfold!” Savant said as he pounded his fist on the command chair’s arm rest.


“Working.. Analysis complete. Veriyon signature is not a match. Neither is the gamma burst. The previously recorded neutrino cascade is missing as well. This event was accompanied by a unique tachyon release,” the artificial intelligence reported.


Savant looked at the gravity readings the satellite recorded in its final moments. “Something came through. Look at the mass readings. Do we have any visuals?”


“Negative. All three optical sensors were trained on Titan, looking for information on Dark Star and Ultrawoman’s activities. The satellite stopped sending before the signals reached Earth and any reassignment orders could be sent.”


“Damn it! Have Space Ops launch another Hermes satellite to Titan. Display current locations of all Coeus satellites in that quadrant,” the armored super-villain ordered.


In front of him A.T.H.E.N.A created a holographic display of the specified quadrant of space. Along the edge of the asteroid belt several glowing points of light revealed the locations of the surveillance satellites he had placed there.


“Move C-4, C-8, and C-9 to their secondary positions and go to maximum alert.” Savant paused to consider his options. “I want Space Ops to increase monitoring as of right now. That means hourly reports.”

“Yes Master,” replied the artificial intelligence as she began to relay her master’s orders to the staff.


Twisted Savant stroked his beard absentmindedly as he pondered what could be happening in the outer solar system.


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Onboard the pilotless shuttle, the craft’s engines remained set at full power, propelling the ship towards the inner solar system. As it approached the gas giant Jupiter, the massive planet’s gravitational pull accelerated the ship to even higher speeds as it slingshotted past. Inside the ship, the plasma fire continued to burn as the ships engines ran on automatic. The slow moving fire was slowly consuming the interior of the prison shuttle as it flew onward.


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Four days later the ship emerged out of the asteroid belt zone and neared the orbit of the red planet Mars. On Earth the powerful sensors of Project FarSeer picked up the shuttlecraft. Alerts from the tracking stations around the globe were sent to the leaders of the countries who participated in the project. In the United States, the FarSeer command was located at Burpelson Air Force Base in California. Data collected from the earthbound tracking stations was relayed there as plans for action were being formulated.


“General Ripper, sir. We have the latest readings. Target ‘High Flyer’ is still maintaining current speed. Here are the latest course figures. ‘High Flyer’ should pass outside the moon’s orbit by just over 21,000 kilometers,” the Executive Officer reported. He handed a set of printouts to his superior officer.


“Thank you Group Captain Mandrake. Does Vandenberg still think we have a runaway on our hands?” the General asked.


“Yes sir. The intruder has maintained a relatively constant speed but made no course corrections, even after being affected by the gravitational pulls of planets and asteroids. On its current course, it will pass us and Venus before being captured by the Sun’s gravity well and be destroyed,” Mandrake answered. His British accent was a stark contrast to the General’s west Texas drawl.


“Good. Well, let’s not take any chances. Which station will be closest to ‘High Flyer’ when it passes us?”


“One moment, Sir. Let me check.” The British officer went to a display screen and began to enter data. After watching the computers work, he looked up. “General Ripper, it appears Diego Garcia will be the closest. Do you have any orders for them, Sir?”


General Ripper took another sip from his glass of distilled water. “Diego Garcia. Excellent, right in the middle of nowhere. Tell the base commander to go to yellow alert and place his weapon in hot stand-by.


“Very good Sir. I will relay your orders immediately.”


“Thank you Group Captain. A shame we don’t have time to examine that ship. But she is too far off and moving too fast for us to intercept her. Still, keep everyone on alert Mandrake. I don’t want anyone getting complacent.”


The Executive Officer gave a crisp salute and began to issue the General’s orders to the other FarSeer stations.


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Onboard the prison shuttle, the raging plasma fires had completed jutting the command deck and living quarters. The energetic fire had been fed from the shuttle’s power distribution system, consuming more and more of the ship as it spread slowly from compartment to compartment; section by section. By now the fire was threatening the engineering sections and beginning to encroach on the reinforced cargo bay holding the cryogenic storage tubes. As the conflagration began to affect the engines and energizers, the power system was further destabilized.


The spiking power levels shorted out what few control functions were left. Without warning, the jump engines briefly surged to life. They did not have enough power or fuel to make a complete jump. Instead, the prison shuttle performed what was known as a “jump-hop”. The ship slipped partially into hyperspace. Its proximity to the Earth’s gravitational field pulled at the ship as its jump engines exploded in a shower of molten metal and fiery plasma. The ship appeared to disappear; only to reappear a moment later in another location.


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Alarm klaxons sounded inside Burpelson’s control room. Technicians frantically shouted orders and questions in response to the situation. They began to fall silent as General Ripper entered the control room. “Mandrake, what the hell is going on?”

The British officer looked embarrassed as he saluted. “I am sorry General. The ship was maintaining course and speed when it suddenly dropped off all our screens. I have ordered all stations to go to hyper-track. We are trying to reacquire it now.”

The General chewed on his cigar. “Good. Have all stations go to red alert. Get me the Joint Chiefs and the White House on the line now. I need to brief…”

“I’ve got it. The ship is on my screens and.. Oh my God!” shouted one of the tracking operators.

“Airman, report!” ordered Group Captain Mandrake.

“Yes Sir. Bogey has changed speed and trajectory. The craft is now nearly half away around the globe.”

“Where? Where is it heading?” asked the General.

“Eastern seaboard. Sir, its on an intercept vector, it’s coming down!”

“How soon. If that thing hits at that speed it will…”

“General, its speed is way down, it’s barely doing mach 4 now. But it’s right on top of us.”

“Time to impact?” General Ripper demanded.

“Less than eight minutes, Sir”, the operator answered as he studied the tracking data being sent to him.

“Sir, shall I have Navarone Island ready the weap…”

“No time Mandrake. It takes at least 12 minutes before it can fire.”

The operator looked up. “My god. Sirs, hyper-track confirms. This thing is headed straight for Angel Falls. It might be coming right down the barrel at Navarone Island!”

“Mandrake, send a Priority Gold Flash to Angel Falls. Tell them they have six minutes to scramble their forces.”


“Yes General.” Group Captain Mandrake scrambled to warn the unsuspecting city. He looked at the General. “Only six minutes. They won’t be able to do much, Sir.”


“I know Mandrake. All we can do is pray,” General Ripper replied as he picked up the presidential hotline.


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The skies above Angel Falls were already chaotic enough. A powerful springtime storm system had moved across the country, bring chaos and destruction. It had spawned tornados and flooding in the Mississippi Valley and southern states. Making its way to the coast, the powerful system had brought high winds, torrential rains, and plentiful lightning. Most people were off the streets in homes and houses, waiting for the tempest to pass. With the sheets of rain limiting visibility to less than fifty feet, very few people were out and able to see the flaming hulk of the prison shuttle craft as it punched through the storm clouds. Rolling thunder covered the sound of the sonic booms as the ship was slowed by atmospheric braking. As a result, less than fifty saw the wayward spacecraft splash down in the waters of Angel Falls.


To be continued …