Bo Jon slept that night-under the open-sky to relief any exerted-stress… He had brought-along necessary-packing equipment and sleeping-bags, hiking for 8-miles into roughed backcountry. Beyond the ‘limits’ of civilization, where he could feel, smell and taste the fresh-air. Though the night was cool, it invigorated him and helped to un-open the strain of bared-nerves. Beyond which he could let go of the stoic and staunch-air of stuffy-bureaucrats. But Bo’s mind didn’t sit still, he inhaled deep-breaths calming his-heart, mind and body. With each, the native-Indian was taught the ‘truth’, over-riding of hardship. By dead-of night he was sedated before a campfire-watching the flames glow hearing owls, wind and trees. Harmonizing with Mother-Earth, who knew all things as the stars in Father Sky shined-in acknowledgement. Growing stronger with every spirited-moment until intense-things fell away and profound truth then stood ‘naked‘…
Awakening to the call of Osprey, and the sun’s bright warmth. …By time the sun was full-spot to the Pantauch along the Bison Lake, he entered his resident-hostel. The steward in-charge of his welfare looking-in on him telling of his next-invitation to make a detail-explanation in the future of what was to occurred and what was the next-stage, in future-outcome. In the throes-of fears, pre-imminences and interstitials in allusion he was easily, succinctly, boding-to complete... Ahead lay functional permutations and productive-provisions, to him, was the annulling-call… The day consisted of the flying-down the water-ways that lead to Bear Creek and was a scanning and scoping detailing the system... Among other-intentions, might un-expose a new-‘light‘. Preparing his-records, notes, documents of research-study and accounting-provisions in atoning commercial and professional-vista... Emerging-to form an compiled assortment as to exposing facilitating coordinate-‘pacts’ and dimensional ‘pinions’, and oracle-to the digests of convincing and concrete-visional.
Replaying bits-and-pieces of the entire Time-line of evidence. Slowly, put peg-to-hole, then the essential-enigmatic, strapping-of the ‘crossbeam‘, and further preparing the free-standing structure that was a symbolic of further investigative-convention. It fell-into Bo Jon’s meticulous, ‘brain-span‘. He had several spots, quite out-of the ordinary.
***…Un-reported expelling of a certain-group of facility-buildings…properties… Which had a unrenowned, aversive-implication; he’d looked at several impudents for fish, game, river-works and streams-usages, while studying well-kept recording-banks in ‘over-head’ books. Which few-of the accounting commissioners had come to expose. …Pursuing fish-hatcheries, scientific-bioengineering and water-developments…and now, he put-into plot: plan-B which had the zeroing-in on: ”three”-sites… Having an established back-country residency, they were a well-equipped extricate on experiment-grounds; maintained for regenerating-forms of ‘Trout’…
***
It turned-out that two-twin facilities had high-bred Trout hybrids which had been accidentally, released. The government closed both facilities and placed a fine of $500,000 for clean-up and removal. The USFS issued an area-wide temporary closure period for the residents and offered replacement of all diseased-fish for the future. Bo Jon received a ceremonial-celebration and given standing-status as an honorable-Lead-Steward of the Inuit-native tribes…
The End
The Wilmington Project
[Three]
“I’m telling you, sir…” -“And I’m telling you, Steve. The mega-server can not be accessed-at this time.” “…To do so, would mean off-loading immense-loads of data, for one-single entry-portal.” …”If you think I’m going to risk this-operation that has taken years of government and commission red-tape to sponsor, I can’t do-it.”, said his head-supervisor for the meteorological-space observer-project, known as the Wilmington-Project… He continued his-requesting of his superior-in the motive of finding “one”-entry track, began the night-before… He was an associate, in his early-thirties, he knew his job-well. Hired-from M.I.T. three years ago, as the new-spearhead of space exploration-experimentations. Endorsed by the incoming-President; deciding-space was a rational, national-objective. While he was still a graduate, being asked if he would join the crew-of-elites, he jumped-at the chance. Scientists from around the country, where brought-in to take part-in the new-project. Known by its creator’s name-sake: Joseph W. Wilmington, one-time Nobel prize-winner in Astrophysics, Quantum Studies and Planetary-Science… …Steve Rheinstad, PhD.-Nuclear Physics, masters of Space-Studies and an honors as intern-at the Smithsonian-Institute…
He was proud of his-young researcher’s career…his-advisor didn’t always tell him, but he was one of his ‘best‘-scientists. Though he was suspect, of someone so young of age being, so effective… He respected that he achieved, so much… Being one of the “best”, sometimes lead to eccentricities and uncommon-habits, but he expected-it. Yet he remained proud of him-anyway, essentially to make use of his-abilities. …“Sir, I’m telling you that the screen: 4o,21o, has a serious-phenomena worth the re-access of satellite-retrieval.” “…I saw-it, for only several-seconds of continental-stay, and then it was gone…” “I know, and you thought you saw something, quite ‘unusual‘…” “If I risks this enterprise getting shut-down it will be my-head, and yours also.” “Sir, if I’m right and it is what I recovered over satellite-view, we may all be in-trouble…”
***
4:06 a.m., Satellite-Navigator observer-709;entry-scientist:Steven Rheinstad… It had been a long-night. When Steve was at the entry/phenomenae/portal-located 4o lattitude, 21o longitude. An average night, he sat keeping-track of incoming, meteorological-data from rain-clouds to storm-cells to cold-fronts… This one was over the area of about upper-New Mexico… He expected nothing, unique. Carefully, inputting-data when the strange-phantom, appeared. An especially, hot-aberration lasting a number-of seconds, then disappearing. Steve, astonished that the ‘heat‘-rating went-through the roof… He quickly, jotted-down the detailed-information. Then, recorded it in the super-computer, deciding-it was worth uploading to the mainframe-processor and researchers’ technical-system…
His years, as a meteorological computer-bank specialist-nothing, with this great-power or strength ever-occurred. Seeing an intensely, huge heat-giant then drawing-back in its enigmatic-immensity. Steve looked with first-incredible astonishment then, disturbing-foreboding. Something he didn’t want to remember, or express… This amazing-entity he, not fully-comprehending or realizing. This, being of a rationale, he knew was his-job. He was accountable-now, responsible and the viable-operative…
…Spending hours peering at the featuring-screen-un-enveloping, data satellite-images. Focusing and reorienting scanned-portrayals: Nexrad, space-Telstar and tandem-rotating-random orbitals… In search of any-bit of evidence. If the head team-leader knew, he’d put-in such power-intense work he would be either put-in for a raise, or reviewed for level-reassignment…~
The amber light-screen reflected-off his spectacled, chiseled-face; glare-by sectional-maps, Trans-coordinates in-fast and repeated-action. Properties, in computer-data, was trying to reinvent regional-events as central down-time was approaching. Downloading 2 deka-seconds and closing-over 30-files… The file, was exquisitely-held in private-operator-cachet in certain, determination aspects; holding physical-”entity” only himself-aware of, for all he-knew… He would meditating more tomorrow, for what it would bring,(‘it’ or, him)…
“Ah, my comrades.” “…You have done-well, a virtuous accomplishment…” “…I announce to you gentlemen an achievement never-fully completed, till now… We, the ‘Durids” of post-Russian Red absentia have come-back like ‘Temeran-Warriors’ though we-hide, and have not taken the helm... We now, take the ‘command‘…”
“Iye, my-General.” “Ya’a, my propagator-absolver.” “Yosh. My Vos-Commander…” -They said, in turn. 18-men in outer-Siberia. Invited-by once, the Red Guard, now-defunct Soviet Republic, now long distant in-time…
Holding-together as a ragtag-team, with support from private eastern-block compatriots’… Who were knocked-out of leadership and left-abandoned; ‘ties’, bringing-together in a unified-force… Proud and unyielding, forging-anew a ‘reunion‘. After, a master-mind plan to amass supporters by renewed-socially, active-participants. Having little-trouble, being long left-in the background. They were eager-investors and diabolical-engineers. It had taken time… Careful and well-thought out, the tedious-’network’ that could-evade ‘suspicion’, a crafting of utmost, equalized exaction.
Vladimir Kokoff Dirmirtrec, socialist-general of the former-Soviet Special-Forces. Head of operations, so patriotic and in-fervor that he was never, de-ranked. Probably that his-respect ran so deep that men in the “new” stand-down was given ignored-passage anywhere-in Eastern-Europe… His supervisor answered to no-one… This, served him and his personal-‘will’, and competent capabilities… From hidden-funds, organizations and perhaps, most empowering-implication of a circle-of-Communist honored-factionalists. Merely, a matter of brain-power, planning, and easing-into final-result; no single-force could bring-into existence. That would be the “Serriot”-insurgence… Passed-over for years, a stern, but quiet devoted-party; faithfully& quietly, in the shadows…
…The pandemic politic-disturbance grew and hiding-it’s interests underground, without-ever being-found-out… Joining the Socialist governing-belief to keep an eye-on their separate-colleagues, and informing-on active-representatives. Open, in a installed-elected variably-mockingly, informing-upon them… ‘Bands’ in technical, governing-politics, and social-espousers; expose-to venerate, and fellow-stridently alter-venerate, propitiates… Erudite, scheming till having inside-‘insight‘ into projects, plans, poised-valued interpretations; formulated, in-seminal. Until, plan came-together; that, was ‘now’. As construction-designs and execution were done, as hoped…
[Eastern-Siberia: longitude 21o, lattitude 4o]:
***The abandoned, “Corie” facility for arms and missiles-station.-
“Sir, the report from ‘Seer-Enforcer’.” “Tuitat…sir.”
“Oritiat, my Lariat continues verifying, parameter-override of our Russian-orbital…”
“…Ah. Now, we conserve with our-basic predicates… It would not have been purchased in our ‘conundrum’. If not, for the installed-skills…”
He walked into a state-of-the-art hidden-facility, based in a central-building on the inset defunct out-post… Within, brought at the black-market, stolen in high-places, and through military-purloined spies… It had taken 7-years for the secretive enterprise fully, established after structural-‘gutting‘, by retreating Red-Army forces. To the moving-in of special commandoes, sector-emergent constructionists, and the professional-staff; fording, the master-plan’s specifications-of the mission... “Serriat-Operation”, was conceived and executed. It fell-into place, being Russia, with its vulnerable government and under-economy. …It was like shooting-’fish’ in a very, easily overcome socially, iconoclast-scrounged ’barrel’…
***~The general, was not only in-charge, but intelligent. Rising to the cause, and fully-competent to their precepts-beyond new Republic’s interests… Serge Operoff was a popularly, seared-official; liked by all members of the hidden-rebellion’s cabinet…
…The “Chairman”, and his subordinate Serge Operoff , where the spearhead-insurgents in the rebellion in a pact to revitalize the Cold-war. Infrastructure, by men and credo… After the down-fall of Red-Russia the rise of Peroestroike in the multi-state U.S.R. Some thought it a ‘step-down’ from power, and a step-back in Russia’s greatness. The long states-union had grown to one of the world’s Super-powers with its own self-rule, before abandoning strict Kremlin over-rule… In the early 90’s, destruction of the last stronghold: the White House, by the military-there, it began a subversive-reemergence of Soviet-recognition…
Many wanted the under-ruling, society returned to its former-order, ways and stridencies. There were men and women through-out the many Pact-nations, gathering and sharing this-belief that had lost national-control; military-men, bureaucrats, government-officials, found-shared support for a return, under any circumstances… Many people joined-forces there came a ‘nexus’ that going across Russia and a fundamental-grass-roots society; within and without, the new-culture and politic… Carrying-on occupational and acceptable-careers keeping the former, re-enacted-connectivity and increased-substantial, functional-flow of ideas, renewing-impetus, and directive-affirmation; resolving to return former unilateral-Pact... Dirmirtrec, ran the Moscow-unit, being-in the capital ‘overtly‘, an office-holder; gave-opportunities for him to gather-information and “insider”-data…used by assigned-operatives given duties in the Soviet-underground… Power and prestige, made him most ‘important‘-leader… Able to invite others in high-office to join, or give funds-to keep the system-going… He-was preparing to leave from his-home, in the suburbs of the city of Gorky. He had a comfortable-house; given a wealthy official-status. Dressing himself to go to the park, outside of town. He had a valet bring around his-limousine and gave him his-destination.
-He had his laptop-computer along-with him. They pulled up-to the guards at city-limits’-checkpoint. Explaining where he was going, and looked at one of the head-guard-men watching, conversing with other guards. He traveled-on. He drove ahead 12-yards, within minutes the officer knocked-on his vehicle-window. He did not say a word but glanced, at his computer-screen. He seemed to have found what he was looking for, said “Doestekdonia”, and walked-back to his-gate post. The message was known; Serge, now performed a transfer-of data. Dirmirtrec, telling the driver to return-to the house… The message was an order-of-declaration, “valuable”-to those, within for its exponents. Within 8-hours, at the hidden-site, in Siberia… It spread-across the union-of-devotees, congregates, and in-hours of approval and congratulation was expressed. Many underground-constituents had been making a plan to retake the Socialist-Republic, by overthrow. An immense-project now, would be activated from deep within the “cold” of former Soviet-Russia. A chosen few knew of it and as well, could curtail action to carry-out its plans…
***
Steve Rheinstad, sent an all nation-wide flyer e-mail-alert to respond by sending any-‘known, sightings’ to what having occurred… How and why, it might be explained. He was a serious researcher, assistant associate-researcher for Wilmington project. Began studies, over years of multi-regional climate, and geographic changes… He’d originated himself, a worthy-researcher working, his present-position. Given 4-hours, under master-system-control center-database… Then, he would return to his-duties… Looking for evidence, in what had occurred was not as potentially, simple as it-seemed. The bright blue-screen reflected-off his-glasses; he, trying to make sense of it-all. A silhouette screen, then nothing. He went-over it several dozen-times, unable to understand it all… He decided to take measurement-data. It had begun at 4o lattitude and 21o longitude, in a satellite-position well, above any orbital-in the vicinity…
***
At Maryland Conservatory, Chris was a military-meteorologist where he-was assigned. “So, Chris what have you come-up with lately?” Chris’s supervisor was fond-of him. He became an Armed-Forces weatherman after getting his associate in meteorology with the G.I.bill. He had a wife and a daughter in a marriage of 6-years, he was happy and respectable. And worked 3-years, to level of assistant regional-inspector: dependable, reliable and accurate. He was proud and content… …A regular, procedure-making monitor-patroller, registered details and logging in 4-hour increments… Phenomena trans-networked to air-ports, weather-stations and recorded for scanning-properties. At the terminal for 2-hours, when startled by something ‘almost cosmic’ in proportion! He wrote down: time, and put report into storage: ‘usage, in-study’… He reexamined it, in resurface. …held for military-weather climatologically reports, in armed-services and nati
onal-relevancies.
*** After a life in the Far-East, he’d become domesticated and well-oriented to his new life. He was professional and very attentive to all-parts of his-work… 40-minute intervals, came and passed-without any such new profundity. He had status, it was a considerable reference-representative‘s position. Beginning a descriptive annotation, profiling and analysis… A sincere-worker, studious at his job, duty and family, kept his nose to the “grindstone”. Staying an efficient, weather-observer. The responsibility, a spirit-of-contentment now, made as compilation…
[Three-days later:]-…He told Bo Jon, meticulously and straightforward-about Bo’s help and how he would be of assistance… “…Well, Bo that’s my story…” “We have work to do…if I and my boss our assured of this unique phenomena, could mean something really serious and important...” Chris was obviously, excited about what he had found. He told the whole-story from first-occurrence to future travel. New Mexico, and on to Malparaiso. Being the next-step. Chris, with assistance of the Bureau, he and his equipment brought were applicable to the project; mentioning how& what was to be done. He was well-prepared…
…The two were to go by hard-terrain-vehicle as “official-vehicle” to reach the spot, over rough-terrain. Bo-asked specifics, and what his-part identifiably, would be. “You are an official-liaison to N.W.A.” “That entails a hefty stipend, all amenities and a site-research-addendum…” “I will guide you, all the way...” But knowing your solving-skills, I don’t think I could do-it alone. After all, I had used them once, I thought, I’d return the favor.” “Okay, amigo let’s get started…” The early evening diner-meeting went into the night, they worked-out the steps began the next-day. Over 4-cups of coffee and several-sandwiches they adjourned to the nearby hotel to sleep the night. Bo rescinded his well cleaned ‘57 Cadillac to a car-porter and stowed his baggage; he had readied and they headed-South to Malparaiso. They conversed-over how he’d fared since his return to the states, and how he dedicated his life to the stateside, family, job and self-improving.
The Continuing tales of Bo Jon Littlehorse, P.I. Page 3