Strength of the Soul Pt. 01

Warning! Warning! Warning! This story contains an element of science-fiction. It also contains some anachronisms and is set in an altered historical timeline. If any of that disturbs you to distraction, move on. You have been warned!

I would like to thank QuantumMechanic1957 and Legio_Patria_Nostra for their assistance and suggestions, which I feel have made this a much better story. Also, many thanks to those who offered comments and constructive criticism on my previous stories.

And now, the disclaimers:

For those who want to say this or that would never happen, remember this is my universe, a place where nearly anything can, and often does, happen. At least on paper... In addition:

1. Characters in this story may participate in one or more of the following: Smoking, consumption of adult (meaning, alcoholic) beverages, utterance of profanities.
2. All sexual activity is between consenting adults 18 years of age or older.
3. Statements or views uttered by the fictional characters in this story do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of the author.

Please refer to my profile for more on my personal policy regarding comments, feedback, follows, etc. (Yes, I DO moderate comments) And please remember, this is a work of fiction, not a docu-drama...

The title and the story were inspired by the song, "Faith of the Heart," written by Diane Warren and sung by Russell Watson for "Star Trek: Enterprise."

Note: I sometimes like to speculate what might have happened if a particular event in history never happened, or if it happened just a bit different. For example, what might have happened if the man who shot JFK missed by just a couple of inches? The possibilities are endless, so I have taken artistic license with the historic record. With that as background, I present, "Strength of the Soul."

...

"It's been a long road

Getting from there to here

It's been a long time

But my time is finally near..."

Friday, November 22, 1963, was a day Major Michael Barnes, USAF, would remember for the rest of his life. On that day, he learned that the President of the United States was wounded in an attempt on his life while visiting Dallas, Texas.

It was also the day Michael, or Mike, as he preferred to be called, learned that Rhonda, his wife of ten years, had been cheating on him. If what he just overheard was correct, Rhonda had been screwing around on him for most of his marriage.

Adding insult to injury, there was a chance that he wasn't the biological father of his 8-year-old daughter, Lisa. He listened quietly as his wife spoke to someone on their home phone. She was so wrapped up in her conversation with her lover that she didn't hear him come inside.

"So when is he leaving?" Mike heard his wife ask. "That's perfect. How long will he be gone?" he heard Rhonda ask a few moments later. "No, he has no idea. As far as he knows, Lisa is his. I've never suggested otherwise," Rhonda said. "No, sweetheart, Lisa doesn't know either, and I think it's about time she learned who her real father is."

Mike felt as if he had just been punched in the gut. But who was Rhonda speaking with? And where was he being sent? Vietnam? He had been a test pilot at Edwards Air Force Base for the last four years and felt he would be getting orders before long. He had already flown in one war and wasn't looking forward to doing it again.

Not wanting to hear any more of Rhonda's betrayal, Mike just wanted to be gone, and he was afraid that if he stuck around, he would do something that he would come to regret. What he needed was information - and space from Rhonda.

According to reports, the body of JFK's "alleged" would-be assassin, Lee Harvey Oswald, was found slumped over his firing position on the sixth floor of the Texas School Book Depository building, a single gunshot wound to the back of his head, ruling out suicide. At least the president would live.

But Michael's marriage was dead. As a doornail. His heart wounded, Mike backed away from the door jamb and crept back outside. He returned to his car and left the house, not caring if his errant wife heard him drive away.

He drove to a nearby civilian bar, parked, and went inside. At that moment, Mike only had one goal - to drown his sorrows in alcohol. When he sat at the bar stool, the bartender came up and took his order, then brought his beer back.

"Never seen you here before, Major. Problems at home?"

"Yeah, you could say that," Mike said.

"Wife cheating on ya?"

"Something like that," Mike said.

"I've seen that look before. Listen, give this guy a call. He's right over in Lancaster. Did right by me," the bartender said, handing Mike a business card. "Call him now if you want. Feel free to use my phone. Might be able to get in to see him Monday."

Mike made the call and was surprised when he spoke to the man himself - Tom Hawkins. He made an appointment for Monday afternoon since Tom would be out over the weekend.

They say bad news comes in threes, and Mike was pretty sloshed when the third piece of bad news hit. This one came from Walter Cronkite, named "the most trusted man in America," if one believes the polls. If Cronkite said it, one could take it to the bank.

"This just in," Cronkite said, holding a piece of paper. "A NASA spokesman just confirmed to CBS News that a very large spacecraft of unknown origin appears to have settled into orbit about 3,500 miles over Washington, D.C. It is not known at this time what intentions the visitors may have.

"The arrival of the spacecraft is being met with mixed emotions on Capitol Hill. Despite the president's desire for a robust space program to counter the Soviets, a bipartisan coalition of Senators say the money would be better spent on pressing problems at home. Still, others say this incident shows the President's forward thinking on space and national security matters.

"President Kennedy is currently under medical care at Parkland Memorial Hospital in Dallas, Texas, where he is expected to be released soon. In his absence, Vice President Johnson has convened the Cabinet to discuss options. Stay tuned to CBS News for more on this breaking report," Cronkite said, ending the news flash.

"Shit," Mike sighed as he swallowed the last of his beer.

"I think that's about enough for you tonight, Major," the bartender said, handing Mike a cup of coffee. "Sounds to me like you fellas are gonna be pretty busy," the older man said, nodding at the black-and-white television.

"Yeah, I reckon so," Mike said, his Texas drawl starting to show as it often did when he was buzzed. Space aliens, Mike thought sarcastically. What the fuck do they want with this fucked-up planet? He downed the hot, bitter liquid, grabbed his keys, and gently stood up.

"You be careful out there, you hear me?" the bartender asked.

"Yeah, yeah. I'll be fine," Mike slurred as he made his way to the door. Climbing in his car, he started it up and headed home. Or rather, the military-provided building that used to be home. Now it was just four walls holding up a roof. He had no idea what he would be walking into. He found out a few minutes later.

"My God, Mike, you're drunk," Rhonda screeched when he stumbled through the front door. "I've been worried sick about you. Have you seen the news?"

"What? You mean the space aliens? Yeah, I saw it down at Joe's Bar. They can have the fucking planet for all I care," Mike snarled as he collapsed on the couch, his tie half undone, his uniform jacket fully unbuttoned.

"Well, you'd better care, mister. Jim's called here several times asking for you," Rhonda snapped. Jim Tyson, or Col. Jim Tyson, was Mike's commanding officer. They had known each other for years - ever since Mike graduated from West Point and went to Air Force flight school. Jim was Mike's flight instructor and, Mike thought, a friend and mentor. But after what he heard today, he began to wonder.

"Yeah, I'm sure he has," Mike slurred. "But as you can see, I'm in no shape to do anything right now."

"Yeah, I can see that. You're a disgrace," Rhonda huffed indignantly as she started down the hall.

"Maybe. But at least I'm not a cheater," Mike growled, causing Rhonda to turn back to him, startled.

"What did you say?" Rhonda asked, fire in her eyes.

"You heard me," Mike replied. "Or to be more precise, I heard you. Earlier today. Talking to your lover."

"So, that WAS you I heard pulling out of here earlier today," Rhonda said quietly.

"Yes, and I overheard you talking to your lover. Tell me something. Is Lisa my daughter?"

"Of course she is," Rhonda snapped defensively. "You were there when she was born."

"But was I there when she was conceived?"

"Don't be silly, Mike. Of course, you were," Rhonda replied with an edge that unnerved Mike. "Look, I know things have been tense with all the trips you've had to take lately. Maybe if you were home more often..."

"It's not my fault Jim keeps sending me TDY," Mike snapped, using the military acronym for "temporary duty." Then he had a moment of clarity as he recalled something he heard Rhonda say. Suddenly, his head cleared as he connected the dots. He distinctly remembered hearing Rhonda ask when he would leave and for how long.

"It's Jim Tyson, isn't it? You're fooling around on me with Jim Tyson," Mike said. Rhonda's face went white for just a moment.

"Don't be stupid, Mike," she snapped. "Jim's your friend. And your commanding officer. I'm not fooling around on you at all. Besides, he's married with two kids. Do you honestly think he would throw all that away?" Mike knew that Jim was married, and he also knew that Jim liked to "play around" from time to time - like that three-month affair he had with that cute little French girl when they were in Europe together on TDY.

"Right now, I don't know what to think," Mike said. "But I do know that he's the one who's been sending me all over Hell's Half-Acre these last several months. I distinctly heard you ask him when I would be leaving next. And for how long. I'm not stupid, Rhonda."

"No, of course you're not," Rhonda said, hoping to get her husband under control. "Maybe you misunderstood what you thought you heard."

"Don't piss down my back and tell me it's raining, Rhonda," Mike hissed through clenched teeth. "I know what I heard." Rhonda looked down as she considered her following words. Deep down, she knew her husband wouldn't tolerate her cheating or lying - something she had been doing for some time already.

"Look, why don't we get some sleep. Perhaps you'll feel better in the morning," Rhonda said. Mike recognized her delaying tactic and decided to back down for the moment. Their telephone rang, and Rhonda answered after the second ring.

"Yes, Jim, he's here now. He just got back a few minutes ago. Hold on," Rhonda said. "It's Jim. He wants to talk with you," she said, holding the handset out to her husband. Mike got off the couch and walked into the kitchen, where the phone hung on the wall.

"Barnes," he snapped after taking the handset from Rhonda.

"Where have you been, Mike? I've been trying to get hold of you." Jim asked.

"I was at Joe's Bar," Mike said. "Why?"

"Have you seen the news?" Jim asked.

"You mean, about the spacecraft? Yeah, I saw that," Mike said.

"I need you in the situation room bright and early - zero-four-hundred hours," Jim said. "And for God's sake, you'd better be sober when you get here. General Allen is coming in from Washington." Lt. General Allen was in charge of the Air Force's special test program.

"Of course... sir," Mike said with a hint of anger.

"Is there a problem, Major?" Jim asked. Mike thought about ripping Jim's head off but changed his mind. He thought there was a proper time for everything, and this wasn't it.

"I'm just fucking peachy, Colonel," Mike said sarcastically.

"Whatever it is that's got you pissed off, Mike... leave it at home. I need your head in the game here. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Mike replied.

"All right. Be here. 0400 hours. Got it?"

"I'll be there, sir," Mike said before replacing the handset on the phone. He turned to his wife. "I need to get some sleep. I have to be in the situation room early in the morning."

"Have you eaten anything?" Rhonda asked, having slipped into "nurture" mode, something she was pretty good at.

"I had a burger at Joe's," Mike said. "I'd like to say goodnight to Lisa."

"She's already asleep. Please don't wake her up," Rhonda said.

"Of course not," Mike said as he headed up the stairs to their bedroom. Rhonda's voice caused him to stop.

"Mike... I do... love you," Rhonda said quietly. Mike looked at the woman he had married ten years ago and nodded.

"Yeah. Love you, too," Mike said quietly before climbing the stairs. He looked in on Lisa and saw her curled up in her bed, asleep, her stuffed animals surrounding her angelic little face. "Goodnight, little angel," Mike whispered before closing the door.

He changed into his pajamas, then climbed into bed after setting the alarm for 2:30 am. He was sound asleep by the time Rhonda joined him under the covers. He left early the following day, giving Rhonda and Lisa a quick kiss on the cheek before he left.

...

"Everything okay at home, Mike?" Jim asked as Mike poured a cup of coffee.

"No, Jim, it's not," Mike said. "I think Rhonda's having an affair."

"Damn," Jim said, appearing sympathetic. "I'm sorry to hear that. Anything I can do?" Mike looked at Jim, seething on the inside, but simply shook his head.

"No, there's nothing you can do," Mike said. Other than fucking kill yourself, Mike thought.

"What are you going to do about it?" Jim asked.

"I guess I'll need to get proof, then get a divorce," Mike replied. "And God help the sonofabitch she's screwing." Jim's face went dark for a few moments, but he recovered quickly. He knew Mike's temper, having seen it often enough over the years, and he dreaded the idea of facing that temper himself.

"Any idea who she's messing with?" Jim asked.

"I have a pretty good idea," Mike replied, watching Jim's face for any reaction.

"Well, just don't do anything stupid. I don't want to have to bail you out of jail," Jim said. Mike chuckled at that.

"No problem, Colonel," Mike said with a smile that held no warmth.

"We'd better get going. General Allen will be here any minute," Jim said. They walked into a secure conference room and sat down with their coffee, greeting the other officers in the room. A few minutes later, a door opened. General Allen walked in, his uniform filled with ribbons received while serving in two wars. Three other men accompanied him, one in uniform and two wearing plain black suits. Everyone stood to attention.

"Take your seats," the general said as he put his briefcase on the table in front of him. Everyone sat down, and General Allen removed a folder from his briefcase before passing papers around the room. "Of course, what I'm about to tell you is not to leave this room. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," everyone echoed.

"Late yesterday, I met with Vice President Johnson, and he specifically requested your squadron for this job, Colonel Tyson," the general said.

"Job, sir?" Jim asked. "What about the president? Does he know about this?"

"Of course he knows, Colonel. But he's indisposed at the moment. Let me bring you up to speed. This has yet to be released to the public, and if all goes as planned, it won't be. The last thing we want is panic.

"The, uh, 'visitors' have somehow managed to take control of our communications satellites. They identified themselves as the H't'quiy."

"Hutkey, General?" Jim asked.

"No, Colonel. The H't'quiy," General Allen said, correcting Jim.

"So they've been in contact?" Jim followed up.

"Yes, Colonel, they have," the general said.

"Any idea what they want, sir?" Jim asked. General Allen looked uncomfortably around and motioned to one of the dark-suited civilians.

"They want half of all women of childbearing age," the suit said, causing the officers in the room to chuckle, which then faded into an awkward silence as the implications settled in.

"Seriously?" Mike asked. Maybe he could give them Rhonda, he thought darkly. It would save on alimony, and he'd be practically guaranteed custody of Lisa.

"Yes, Major," the suit replied. "They've provided a list of requirements - blood types, genetic markers, that sort of thing. But it still amounts to millions of women."

"What is this? Mars needs women?" one of the officers burst out in disbelief.

"Their ship can carry that many passengers? Between planets? Just how 'large' is this spacecraft?" another one demanded.

Mike heard the married officer sitting next to him mutter, "It'd have to be huge to carry millions of women AND their luggage."

"They said nothing about luggage, and they've given us 96 hours to respond," General Allen interjected. "That was nearly 12 hours ago."

"And if we don't?" Jim asked.

"They say they will sterilize all living beings on the planet," the suit said.

"They say?" Jim asked, incredulous.

"We're not willing to put it to the test, Colonel," the suit said. "Are you?" Jim looked uncomfortable at that.

"We've decided to respond, just not in the way they expect," the general said. "We have to assume that they have some sort of defensive weaponry on that ship of theirs. That rules out a direct ascent attack by one of our new TITAN II ICBMs since they would have no capacity to dodge defenses. Though a barrage of all our current missile inventory is one backup plan." He took a deep breath before continuing.

"That's where your squadron comes in, Colonel," Gen. Allen told Jim. "We're taking the X-67C out of mothballs." The X-67C was a beefed-up version of the X-15, designed to go into orbit after being launched from a modified B52 bomber. "It at least has the potential to dodge defensive weaponry. And can be maneuvered in space."

"But sir, that vehicle has only been launched twice," Jim protested.

"Yes it has, and the only man who has ever flown it is right here," General Allen said, looking at Mike. "The 67 was designed to go into space, was it not, Major?"

"Yes sir, it was," Mike said. "But it's never been taken more than 60 miles up."

"And now, it's going a lot higher. With a little package."

"Package?" Jim asked.

"Yes. There's a Mark 59 nuclear device being delivered this afternoon. It's already been fitted inside a missile that will be launched by the 67," the general said. Mike and Jim looked at each other, shocked. The Mark 59 was said to be the most powerful nuclear device on the planet, with a maximum yield of nearly 200 megatons.

"I understand the 67 is equipped with a missile launch system, Colonel," General Allen said. "Is that correct?"

"Yes, sir, it is. But we've never launched anything from it. It's one of the many systems that have never been fully tested."

"It will be now, Colonel. Yes, Major, what is it?" the general said, looking at Mike.

"Sir, there's another... concern," Mike said.

"And that is?"

"The little matter of re-entry. I don't wish to speak ill of the dead, but I really don't want to end up like John Glenn," Mike said. Glenn, the first American to go into orbit aboard the Mercury spacecraft Friendship 7, experienced problems with the craft. It burned up in the atmosphere during re-entry, setting the manned space program back years.

"I understand how you feel, Major, and I can't say that I blame you," General Allen said. "I understand the 67 is equipped with heat tiles designed to protect the craft during re-entry."

"Yes, sir, it is," Mike said. "But they've never really been put to the test, and..."