by Samuel Fort
Chapter 55: The Craft
The manmade chamber that Charlie Squad had found was so immense that Disparthian and his Peth had to descend twelve flights of metal stairs to reach the main floor. The sound of their heavy boots clanking against the metal treads echoed up and down the deep stairwell. The area smelled like a car garage. The concrete walls were painted an eggshell white.
As they descended, the commander turned to the squad leader and asked, “Do you have dimensions yet?”
“Approximations, Lord, based solely on pace counts. It is a circular chamber, about four hundred and fifty meters in diameter.”
“Supports?”
“It’s a domed structure, Lord.”
“What’s the height of the dome?”
“Unknown, but if the dome was much taller it would probably break the surface. I would guess that, at its apex, there’s no more than four feet of earth between the top of the dome and the ground above.”
“The dome is enveloped in dirt?”
“Presumably, Lord, yes.”
“You said this was an aircraft hangar. A buried hangar is worse than useless. All the aircraft are entombed.”
“Yes, Lord. But there is only one aircraft.”
“Just one? In hangar this size?”
“It is exceedingly large, Lord. And strange. You will see.”
The men had reached the bottom level, where thick steel double doors were propped open. They walked from the stairs into the chamber beyond the doors without slowing. What Disparthian saw inside, beneath the dome, stopped him cold.
“Gods!”
Sitting atop massive thirty-foot tall pylons in the center of the hangar was the largest craft Disparthian had ever seen – and the most bizarre. It was not just triangular. It was a triangle. Each of the craft’s sides was at least three hundred meters in length, or the length of a Nimitz class aircraft carrier. It was as tall as five story building and as black as night.
There were what appeared to be massive exhaust nozzles one the underside of the perimeter of the craft, one at each point and one on each side. Each was twenty or more meters in diameter. In the center of the craft, again on the underside, was what appeared to be an observation deck or pilot house. Shaped like a hockey puck, this feature had tinted windows that protruded outwardly from bottom to top, like the windows on air traffic control tower. Long metal rods that might be antennas shot from the base.
“What is this thing?” asked Disparthian. He pointed at the exhaust nozzles. “Are those its engines?”
“Unknown, Lord. We’ve identified entry points. We were awaiting your arrival before investigating any further.”
Disparthian gazed up at the beautiful monstrosity. He didn’t know what it was, or how to get it out this grave, or whether he even wanted to. But he was certain its presence was not an accident, and that certainty gave him his first ray of hope in a very long time.
“Investigate,” he said.
Part 5 –
Anzu flew off to his mountain.
The land was silent.
- The Epic of Anzu, First Millennium BC