These Few Brave Souls

by Rodney Manchester

  “Jesus Staff Sergeant,” he said. “Next time I’ll bloody well ask him to wait while I hand it to you,” Willie chuckled.

  As Double H’s men began to move into the UFO, Sergeant Jones and Willie B both moved in with them.

  Inside the craft was surprisingly roomy. Men moved from room to room, the doors all opening as they approached. Suddenly the main hatch quietly closed shut and they were left looking at each other, wondering what just happened.

  Major Mumsford stood in shocked disbelief as the UFO surged skyward. One third of his team was gone, aboard the sky rocketing UFO.

  CHAPTER 48

  F117

  Goatsucker one-one

  Lieutenant Colonel Wilson James reached up and turned off his outside red and green navigation lights and the IFF transponder. The other five aircraft did the same thing as they became invisible against the night sky.

  'Sticky' led the loose formation in a gentle descent toward the desert floor. No one knew exactly how the aliens detected incoming aircraft. The speculation tended toward extremely low aperture radar. This weak signal radar was hard to detect. Yet one simple fact remained. Physics are physics, no matter who or what discovered their properties. The fact is that the F-117A Stealth Fighter had a smaller radar cross section than a bird in flight.

  Repeatedly proven in the skies over Baghdad, a large part of the last, best chance for the human race depended upon this ungainly looking airplane named for a bird reputed to suck the milk from goats in the middle of the night.

  A dozen or more miles to the northeast, more than one hundred forty aircraft were trying hard to dangle like succulent bait. F-15s and F-16s were joining the already west bound Ravens and YF-22s. The F-15s and 16s were radiating in an attempt to pull the air patrol north while the Ravens waited for a response from the enemy. When they grew close enough, they would open their bag of tricks and, hopefully, confuse the Aliens long enough for the YF-22s to get in close and kick their ass.

  Almost Four thousand miles to the South, a similar flock of night dwellers prepared to go into battle.

  On board the USS Carl Vinson and USS Eisenhower, the intricate ballet that is a modern aircraft carrier during flight operations began.

  Each carrier had eighty-five aircraft assigned to it. Some were not suited to close with an airborne enemy and were, therefore, not launched immediately. EA-6B Prowlers were followed aloft by F-14s and F-18s. Orbiting E-2C Hawkeye Early Warning Aircraft were already on station for the coming battle. Once the interception package was up they began launching S-3 Vikings. These were long duration anti-submarine aircraft that were slow and ungainly in the realm of modern air warfare. But, as bait, they hoped to gain the Alien's attention and further confuse the situation.

  In orbit

  Twenty-two thousand three hundred miles above Quito, Equador

  Lieutenant Harlin led half the team one way down the corridor as Jorgenson led the other way.

  Looking at his watch, Jorgenson felt the press of approaching events as the hands neared strike time. While not considered critical, it was desirable to shut down the station at the same time as the ground strike. So far, the scratch team had done well, yet they were still a long way from their goal.

  Christopher and his companions had carefully searched over two dozen rooms without success when they came upon the end of the passageway. They just started back when they came upon Corporal Benuchi hurrying to find them.

  "Lieutenant Harlin said to find you, sir. He thinks he may have found something."

  "What did he find," asked Nicholas?

  "I don't know, sir," replied Benuchi. "Just a room full of equipment and a door with a window in it."

  Fifteen minutes later they all stood together in what must have been a control room. There were obvious panels with readouts in a strange script and keyboard type units designed for something other than human hands.

  "Well Jorg, what do you think?" Harlin looked toward the computer genius with a questioning smile.

  "Did you ever play the pinball game called Taxi?" Christopher had a broad grin on his face as he asked the question. "If you pick up all the passengers, the game says 'JACKPOT'."

  The group dutifully laughed as Sarah, Christopher and Harlin sat down at different panels in chairs designed for torso's remarkably larger than those now occupying them. Torso’s with a tail.

  Harlin leaned forward until the edge of the panel was against his chest. He could make no sense of the gibberish displayed before him but he was determined to make something change. "Everybody stand by for a moment. I"m going to try something."

  "Is that wise?" Lieutenant Murphy asked? "What if you let the air out here too?"

  "I don't think that will happen. We want to break this thing, not make it do something specific. It'll be okay."

  He gingerly pressed a button and watched the displays. When several moments passed without any change, he pressed another. Nothing. Harlin looked over to Jorgenson and shrugged his shoulders. He then pressed several buttons, then several more. Again, nothing.

  Corporal Benuchi spoke. "If you want to break it, I can pump a few rounds into it for you."

  Sergeant Adams spoke before anyone else could formulate a reply. "Sure thing asshole. What if you blow a hole right through the wall with a ricochet? What happens then?"

  Benuchi looked sheepish for his error and turned red in the face. He shrugged and the others turned back to their task.

  E3 Sentry

  Over Baker California

  The inbound multitude of aircraft had captured the Alien's attention in a big way. The big Sentry AWACS reported all of the Alien combat air patrol were responding to the threat, leaving the way open for the Nighthawks.

  The F-15s and F-16s had found targets and were coming in range of the new Amraam fire and forget missile.

  Major Hung and Col. Hamford had calculated this one close. Just when past experience had shown them that the missiles would be blow up by the mysterious blue light they lit off their electronic warfare systems.

  Nothing happened.

  The Alien's continued flying as before and, more importantly, the missiles flew on unmolested. Several moments passed while over one hundred forty-five professional Airmen and women collectively held their breath.

  F117

  Goatsucker one-one

  Colonel James checked his laser altimeter and gradually eased up on the stick, actually a joystick on the right arm rest. He brought his altitude up from two hundred feet to ten thousand. He began to search his screens for the targeted UFO Park.

  The faint green glow of his MFD, or multi-function display, showed the infrared imaging his LANTIRN pod was receiving. There, on the edge of his display's horizon was his target area. He made a minor steering change echoed by the remainder of his flight as he piloted his Stealth Fighter toward a date with destiny.

  He began a final systems check before beginning the process of ordinance disposal. His aircraft carried two two-thousand pound laser guided bombs. Two-thousand pounds of total weight, a substantial part of which was Octol, a substance that is stable under all but the most extreme conditions. But when those conditions are met, it becomes one of the most explosive substances known to man.

  More than thirty miles separated the two groups of aircraft. One large group designed to take down the fence and the smaller group to destroy what it protected.

  The 'Spark Varks' were successful beyond their most optimistic expectations. The Aliens acted completely blind and were knocked from the sky without a single blue light becoming visible. The Air Force fighters had done their jobs with unanticipated perfection, now it depended on the Stealth fighters and the Navy.

  UFO Park

  Pacasmayo Sand Dunes

  Wemar was drawn slowly from the ecstasy of Kajan companionship and into a confusion of foreign events. She had suddenly lost contact with fourteen patrol craft.

  Her mate must wait while she determined what had happened. Removing her upper appendage fr
om the control panel broke the connection that had provided such comfort.

  The sudden infusion of facts caused a surge of energy that cleared away the remaining mist and allowed her to focus her incredible intellect. She found her defenses gone over the new base to the north. Quethia was not to be found, so she followed protocol for hostile scenarios and ordered her craft back to the station in orbit. She quickly found her own situation to be precarious as well. There were two groups of invading vehicles approaching from the ocean. One large group to the north and a smaller, slower group to the south. Her computer had positioned the patrol aircraft correctly so she did the reptilian equivalent of sitting back to watch and see what happens. Supreme confidence was her race’s blessing and curse.

  F18

  Over the west coast of Peru

  Lieutenant 'Sleepy' Simmons was flying his F-18 just off the wingtip of his flight leader. A single click on the tactical frequency dictated a change into the 'loose deuce tactical formation. All forty-eight fighters moved into the pre-arranged position. Radars radiating, they deployed to take on the Alien invader.

  Sleepy got a solid lock on one of the Aliens and on command, they all called "Fox three" as forty-eight Sparrow air to air missiles left the launching rails. That's when the Prowlers went to work.

  Wemar became frightened for the first time. She had observed the coming engagement with amused glee when her mental picture was replaced by vast fields of static. She quickly exercised control over the patrol, directing them to fly straight into the source of interference. She analyzed the electronic noise and had begun to compensate with different emission parameters when her patrol ships began to wink out of existence.

  A little too late, she recognized her arrogance for what it was. It seems that she had underestimated the natives. She warned her remaining sister, Mayluth. She now realized that Quethia may be in serious trouble.

  Panavia GR4 Tornado

  Over western Chad

  Captain Chad Nichols nudged his GR4 Tornado into a gentle descent to the proper altitude. The EF-111 jammers had secured the path of his strike package and now his flight was nearing terminal execution.

  “Murrain one-one, prepare to drop,” he spoke into the radio.

  Four laser pods winked on, each emitting a coded laser beam toward the ground, internal computers locking on the UFO’s Thirty thousand feet below.

  Moments later, “Drop now.” Captain Nichols voice paused. “Now,” his words were repeated in the helmets of the other three pilots.

  Over Western Australia four F-18 Hornets and two EF-111 Aardvarks of the Royal Australian’s Air Force along with two US Navy EA6B prowlers performed the same function as their eight laser guided bombs fell toward their target with unerring accuracy. The results were both spectacular and routine. It was really no different than a training mission.

  F117

  Goatsucker one-one

  Over Peru

  'Sticky' James centered the coded laser beam on the center UFO. That was the one that the intelligence experts concluded was most likely the future home of the Alien. Both UFO parks had identical layouts, so the briefing was almost identical for both bombing excursions. Each team of pilots had trained for years for missions like this one. The only difference between this and their training was the consequences of failure.

  As Wilson James aimed his laser toward the ground, his companions in flight did the same. They each targeted a different shape as the Briefing Officer had instructed. The targets were exactly as described and the bombing run proceeded perfectly. On cue, six bomb bay doors concealed with radar absorbent material opened and disgorged their contents. Twelve bombs fell toward the Earth, each pair heading on its' own slightly different path.

  The sky was clear and the night quiet when the first bomb punched through the thin roof of the Aliens home. Microseconds later, the two-thousand pound explosive device detonated. It was followed very shortly thereafter by seven identical explosions.

  The precision of the attack was such that the detonations took place nine seconds apart. On four different continents that were many thousands of miles apart, the horrif8ic explosions ripped the peace and quiet apart. Wemar's life ended without a conscious thought of her imminent danger. She was still dwelling on her mistake when the molecules of her body were scattered in the man-made maelstrom of expanding gases. Their mates died as well, oblivious to the war that had just started.

  CHAPTER 49

  In orbit

  Twenty-two thousand three hundred miles above Quito, Equador

  The hatch on the UFO quietly slid open and the SBS Marine’s ears popped with the changing air pressure. They suddenly and without warning were a fraction of their normal weight as the artificial gravity was turned off.

  Captain Hershel Harrison led Staff Sergeant Jones, Willie B and half a dozen of the troop, as they made their way outside the vehicle and into a large hanger bay. Several dozen UFO’s were parked, lined up precisely in the vast room. The hum of equipment was in the air, which smelled lightly of machine oil and burnt ozone, as if there was an electrical fire nearby.

  Using sprint and cover techniques, the team of SBS Royal Marines began to explore the cavernous room in a humorous manner as to a man they all over compensated for their new weight. Long drifting leaps and arm waving were the norm as the elite troops scrambled to move and adapt to the new environment. Luck was with them as there was no movement beyond their own.

  The hanger was both spacious and crowded with vehicles and equipment. The deck was occupied by the additional UFO’s packed meters apart but the ceiling was at least seven or eight meters above their heads and at least four meters above the UFO’s. Once the hanger was searched and nothing alive found, the team was called over to Double H’s position near a closed doorway.

  Double H, once the team assembled, quieted them with a single word. “Silence!”

  They heard voices. Then they heard yelling. Then the shooting began.

  A quick wave of his hand over the light by the door resulted in the door opening with a quiet whoosh. The voices, yelling and shots were very much louder.

  “Head up lads, looks like we’ve got company,” Double H commanded as his team moved into the new room. Weapons up, fingers off the trigger and along the trigger guard, the disciplined Marines swept into the room, ready for trouble.

  Elsewhere in the craft

  It was obvious that nothing was working. The control position was dead. No adjustment of any of the assorted controls did anything at all. There was no change on any readout during the entire time that they fiddled with it. Dead.

  "Well," Lieutenant Harlin said slowly, "I guess this isn't your jackpot."

  Jorgenson glanced over toward Warren and shrugged. "We keep looking."

  "I wonder what those things are." Corporal Benuchi was staring out the window in the door.

  Jorgenson led the others over toward Benuchi and stopped to stare with him. Through the window could be seen dozens of boxy enclosures stacked neatly, one upon the other, six high. There were over fifty stacks visible with more apparently beyond the restricted door window view.

  "That's a good question Corporal," Lieutenant Harlin said as he began searching the room.

  "What are you looking for sir?" Lt. Murphy asked the question the groups puzzled expression seemed to require.

  "A straight edge."

  "For what?"

  "Well, if there's no atmosphere in the other room then I want to know about it." Harlin's answer asked additional questions and Sergeant Adams did the honors.

  "What good is a straight edge for that?"

  Harlin stopped his search with the accomplishment of his goal. Obviously some sort of measuring device, he held up a straight edge with graduated markings along its length. "Watch this."

  He walked over to the window and laid the straight edge on the glass and carefully looked at the clear surfaces junction with the measuring stick. The glass seemed to touch the stick along its entire length a
nd Harlin seemed satisfied. "There is pressure on the other side of this door."

  "You seem sure of yourself" said Sarah Von Framden.

  "Oh yes. If there was a vacuum there would be incredible pressure on the glass from this side. The glass would bulge. It doesn't, Ergo Sum, there is pressure."

  "Okay, Einstein. Let me check something first," Jorgenson said.

  Christopher walked over to the door and closely examined the edges and seams. He then placed his ear to the metal, as if listening to something in the other room.

  "I've got to agree with Warren. The seams don't appear to be pressure seals and they are quiet." Christopher rubbed his ear to warm it up. The metal was cold.

  Jorgenson directed the group to wait just outside the control room and Harlin pressed the glowing rectangle. The door opened quietly.

  "Told ya," Harlin said with a grin and walked through the door. He marched straight over to the boxes. Each box was nestled inside a framework of support, so that they weren't stacked upon each other. There was about 6 inches of open space between boxes and upon closer examination, the tops were transparent.

  "My God. Look at this. There must be hundreds of them." Harlin stepped back shaking his head. The others crowded in to see what had startled him.

  Sometimes when looking at something, a shape is difficult to make out. Then, when the mind finally recognizes it, you wonder why it took so long when it is so obvious. Almost as one they gasped. Each box contained a reptilian creature, presumably the 'colonists'.

  Sarah Von Framden had a strange expression on her face when she collapsed. A slim tendril of smoke wafted from her hair before her body hit the floor. Corporal Benuchi and Sergeant Adams each folded forward as they slumped down. No sound escaped from the bodies other than the rush of their breath. Slowly, albeit very shallow, the breath out was replaced with a fresh intake of precious air. They weren’t dead, just stunned.