The engines roared as the wheels lifted off of the runway. The pilot looked out at the blue sky above as he pulled back and ascended.
"Salt Lake tower, I am clear of airport airspace, turning south to one eighty degrees."
"Roger Whiskey One, you are clear to proceed. Have a nice flight."
Captain Jake Weston was one of the best. He had graduated top in his class at North Slate University's School of Aviation and landed himself a comfy job as a private pilot for a private contracting company who does odd jobs for the highest bidder. He was about 6" 1' with black hair. He wasn't overweight but knew he should probably get out and about a little bit more. He had always taken flying seriously when he was working. When he was in his own aircraft, a Piper Cub, he was not as "serious", if you would say.
This "comfy" job found him sitting in the cockpit of a C-130 Hercules bound for Las Vegas. They had been contracted to fly a couple of automobiles out there for the 2013 Las Vegas Auto Show. A pristine red Ferrari 458 Italia was sitting in the rear cargo hold covered and secured twice over by the over-protective owner. But hey, if you owned a 240,000 dollar car you'd be a little protective too. To the left of it, for reasons Jake couldn't quite grasp, was a 2013 black Dodge Ram 3500 with a lift kit and custom stacks behind the cab. The polar opposites of automobiles in the back amused him, and he wondered who decided to put the two together on the same flight. It was not taken well by him at first however, due to the extreme weight differences between the two cars extra weight needed to be added to the right side where the Italia was sitting. What was even more confusing, was why the extra weight was created by using 22. ammunition stored in official US Army crates. The flight plan told him the Las Vegas armory needed the ammo and used his aircraft as a free ride to get it out there. He didn't ask questions though, he just flew wherever they told him to go.
His copilot was absent. Being a small company consisting of only 20 pilots they couldn't afford to use two per flight, so they flew solo. Jake didn't mind however, he enjoyed the time to think and the silence, except for the constant drone of the four turbo prop engines gracing the wings of his aircraft. The silence was interrupted though when the controller on the radio spoke up, "Whiskey One, this is Shelby tower in Nevada to Whiskey One, do you copy? "
Jake replied, "Shelby tower this is Whiskey One, I read you, what's the matter?"
"Whiskey One you are approaching restricted airspace near Area 51, we request that you vector out to the southeast to a heading of two four niner degrees and descend to ten thousand feet."
"Uh, Shelby tower I read you. Why the descent though?"
"Whiskey One you have been spotted by officials here at the airport and they just wanna keep an eye on you while you pass considering you're flying an aircraft commonly used by the military. When your past the next NDB your cleared to continue your previous course and altitude."
"Shelby tower, I read you, descending to ten thousand and turning to two four niner. Whiskey One out."
"Whiskey One acknowledged, have a good day."
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In the depths of Area 51, nobody on the planet except for the five men in the room and the President of the United States himself knew what was going on. The five men stood in a semicircle around a grey canon aiming straight up, glowing with an electric blue charge and humming a deep droning sound that gently vibrated the floor of the room. The canon resembled a flak gun used in WWII, but three times as large and more powerful than anything ever imagined.
"Safety off." Said the leader of the group. He was what any "mad" scientist would be portrayed as. Short, crazy white hair, and goggles perched atop his head. "Good, the accelerator is stable, crank up the power and prepare the canon for its test fire!"
One of the other men spoke up, "Sir are you sure about this? The atom transporter isn't certified yet and I don't think this shaft can withstand the power this canon can wield." He was right. The shaft that went straight up for a mile to the desert in order to concentrate the contents of whatever they were testing at that time wasn't built to withstand that much power. But Dr. Navorno didn't want to hear of it.
"No! The shaft will hold I guarantee you. Dr. Draplen, begin the firing sequence! When this is successful, humans will have mastered the art of bending the space time continuum. All this canon needs to do is focus a beam of energy on a test subject, and the energy will warp time by reaching the speed of light, and virtually teleport it into the future!"
One of the men spoke up, "Doctor we know how it works, why are you explaining it again?"
"To remind you of it's greatness my boy! To remind you of it's greatness. However I do value the life of anything. So before we put in a test subject, lets do a dry fire and just test the beam itself."
Dr. Draplen acknowledged, "If you say so doctor. Ok men get behind the barrier and put on the eye shields...this is gonna be one hell of a blast."
The men all got behind a steel barrier with triple-layered bullet proof glass, and awaited the fate of the canon in front of them.
Dr. Navorno shouted "Ready............for the love of Newton I hope this works.........FIRE!!!" The entire room was illuminated with a piercing blue and white electric light and all thoughts were drown out by the immense sound of the canon. The blue beam shot out and up the shaft, reverberating off the walls. It was holding. However, the multiple layers off pads to absorb the shot a mile up didn't, and the beam ripped through them like tin foil and through the crusted desert earth, up into the blue yonder.
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Ten thousand feet up Jake was listening to Pink Floyd, his favorite band when the shit hit the fan.
"High fidelity first class traveling think I need me a leeeeear jet! What the?!" Jake turned off the stereo to look out at the blue beam rocketing into the sky from the ground. He was only about a half mile away and the blinding light forced him to bank hard to the left and shield his eyes.
What was forgotten by Jake, was the fact that the C-130 was made out of aluminum, which made it a virtual lightning rod to stuff like the beam now behind him. The beam flailed around as it reached its maximum altitude and immediately found the massive aircraft unintentionally in the way of its random course. The entire airplane shuddered and Jake was thrown forward, banging his head on the yoke and taking him to the magical land of unconiousness.
Back at Shelby tower, the controller was sitting at his desk when he looked at his radar and saw it. His hand trembled as he set his coffee down and looked over to his co-worker, "Um, Andy? I...I think you might wanna take a look at this. It appears that Whiskey One has disappeared off the map."
Deep in the bowels of the secret base, Dr. Navorno, Dr. Draplen, and the other three scientists looked on in quiet shock as the canon stopped its firing and sat there, sizzling. The only thing that was different was the dim light that seemed to illuminate the barrel of the canon as well as the walls of the shaft. The five men walked underneath and looked up, expecting to see nothing, but instead gazing up at a blue speck which was unmistakably the sky. Dr. Navorno stood motionless as he looked up. "Well...shit."