"That is correct, sir, Director. Is she a friend?"
"This is Agent Strong. Field-inducted and field-tested. Think of her as my personal bodyguard."
Barnes, the female in the group, speaks, "Director, you are injured. We must get you into medical ASAP. Radley, Redd, help the director to the elevator. Agent Strong, please surrender your weapons to Agent Whistle."
After hesitating, Agent Strong does.
"So, you are Director here?" asks Agent Strong.
"One of my many titles," smirks Mr. Nix.
"Agent Strong, will you please follow them to the elevator," asks Barnes.
Agent Strong follows the two Secret Service officers carrying Mr. Nix, while the other two Secret Service officers bring up the rear. After a short trip through a wide cinderblock hall, they turn at an intersection, and approach a bank of three elevators.
One elevator sits with the doors open. Unlike the old dreary atmosphere of these basement hallways, the elevators are made of newly replaced metal, unfinished wood and glass. No plastics, paint or vinyl anywhere on the elevator.
"These elevators look different," comments Mr. Nix as they get on.
"Headquarters has undergone remodeling since you were last here a year ago Director. Command decided it was necessary to remove materials that contained toxins, fumes, or unnatural and unhealthy chemicals in case we encountered a complete lockdown in the bunker. Air quality and contact residue is a more recent issue than during the headquarters' bunker construction. A lot has changed in building materials over the last several decades. The renovation crew found asbestos in the lower bunker walls. It is fortunate we did the work, because here we are in lockdown."
A quiet whirring sounds through the elevator walls as it races downward at high speed.
"Who led the initiative for the changes?"
"It was a Committee Council decision. When orders come from that high up, you stand aside and let it happen. You understand the Council better than I do, Director."
After feeling the weight shift from the hydraulic brakes quick deceleration, the elevator door pops open. As two officers carry off Mr. Nix, Agent Strong exits, flanked by Barnes.
Agent Barnes calls to guards standing along the corridor, "Come over here and help them get Director Nix to medical."
Agent Strong attempts to follow, but is stopped by Barnes.
"What are you doing? I'm with him," objects Agent Strong.
Barnes remains in Strong's way, "He's going to medical. Director Nix's wellbeing is of utmost importance. Once we make sure his health is in no danger, his superiors need to talk with him on issues you aren't privy. Don't worry. You are going somewhere safe. You'll stay there until the Director finishes what he needs to do. Please understand, you have not been vetted by normal means. Director Nix picked you up in the field. We need to come to our own assessment that you are trustworthy and of no danger before we allow you to roam with the rest of the staff."
"So what? Am I being put into confinement or something?"
"Think of yourself as a guest with restricted access until Director Nix can get you cleared with the Council. Once the Council agrees, they will commission you as an official agent. Now please, that way."
Barnes points with her rifle up the corridor in the opposite direction they took Mr. Nix. Agent strong turns around and walks, Barnes following behind her.
Twists of Truth
Chapter 50
Medical Lab, Underground Committee Headquarters, Washington DC.
Filled with sophisticated medical equipment and illuminated with bright white lights, the medical lab has a strange sense of dimension because the walls are polished stainless steel that reflect reflections, making the room seem endless. The white tile ceiling and white marble floors amplify the brightness. On one of the examination tables sits Mr. Nix, while two lab technicians with forceps and cotton clean the surface of both his front and back shoulder wounds, using scissors to snip away frayed skin around the opening.
After checking the glass intravenous bottle hanging next to Mr. Nix, a doctor moves over to a strange device with multiple arms that prints a square of skin matching Mr. Nix's skin tone, except flush with pigment. The senior doctor of the medical staff stands in front of Mr. Nix, examining Nix's eyes and ears.
"That organic medical printer we got from the Barge is amazing, but unnecessary to use on me. I'm fine if you just stitch me up. What's another scar?" says Nix with a tone of reluctance.
"Director, you are old school. But you've seen us use this for skin and organs on many other patients. Someone of our age can feel funny having manufactured flesh attached to us, but it is safe, reduces stress on the shoulder by not stretching your skin, and will allow the wound to heal faster," reassures the Senior Doctor.
Mr. Nix nods, "You don't have to pitch me. I was here when the Barge delivered that organic printer after building it for us. And I remember we used it to make a liver for Council Leader Vander, and it saved his life. But when I look at the skin over there being made, it reminds me of a lunchmeat slice."
When the organic printer stops, a doctor removes the square of skin it was weaving, slicing it into two circular patches the size of Nix's bullet hole wounds. The Senior Doctor grabs an injection gun from a table tray and uses it to make injections next to both front and back wounds.
"This is a local anesthetic. You won't feel any pain while these doctors sew you up," explains the Senior Doctor.
"Sew? Aren't you going to use one of the Grey healing rods to seal the skin?"
"The Council collected all the Grey tech we had in the lab and returned it."
"Returned it to where?" asks Mr. Nix.
"Pardon me?"
"You said returned. Returned to where?"
"Oh, I don't know. They don't tell me where that stuff is acquired, stored, or archived. That's more your department, Director. You know better than I."
Two doctors simultaneously sew the skin patches to Mr. Nix's skin, sealing the wounds.
"Anesthetic is better than I remember. Your stitching tickles."
"We make it better now. More pain suppressant to the wound while affecting your head less."
"So, what am I dealing with, Doc?" asks Mr. Nix.
"Clean wound. Straight through shot. Missed hitting any bone. There shouldn't be long-term issues. It'll be sore when the pain suppressant wears off, and the punctured muscles will be weakened for a little while. Nothing you haven't experienced before, Director." The Senior Doctor addresses the doctor stitching Mr. Nix's back, "Have you completed the exit wound closure?"
The two doctors finish stitching and step away.
"Yes, Doctor."
"Great. You are all done."
The Senior Doctor opens a case of pills and places a couple dozen in a small container and hands them to Nix.
"Here are your pain killers. Take them when needed, but do not exceed one every six hours."
As the doctors bandage up his shoulder and remove his intravenous drip, a Committee agent standing in the hallway enters.
"Is Director ready, Doctor."
"Ask Director Nix," replies the Senior Doctor.
"What do you need...I'm sorry I don't remember your name," says Mr. Nix.
"Cannes. Supervisor Cannes."
"Supervisor, huh? Congrats on the promotion."
"Thank you, sir. The Committee Council requests to see you right away."
The doctors place a new clean shirt on Mr. Nix, helping him dress.
"They never were ones to waste time. Will you wait while I finish getting dressed?"
"Of course," says Supervisor Cannes.
Mr. Nix buttons up his new shirt. He removes his pants and underwear, then puts on the new underwear and pants hanging on a chair next to the table. After sitting, he puts on new shoes.
"Few things are better than clean clothes. Could you make sure Agent Strong has a new set of clothing, too?" requests Mr. Nix.
"Already done."
"Gre
at. Where is she?"
"The Council wanted to restrict her access until they questioned her, and discuss her qualifications with you, to determine her level of clearance."
"Where is she?"
"In a holding pen."
"Behind bars?"
"Don't worry, Director. We explained our protocols to her, and that her confinement is only temporary until you get her clearance from the Council. She is comfortable, clean-clothed, and fed," assures Supervisor Cannes.
"I wish to get her out of there as soon as possible. Let's go see the Council. Lead on, Supervisor Cannes."
Following the Supervisor, Mr. Nix exits the medical laboratory, heading through the halls made of nothing but bare drywall, steel and stone. Mr. Nix again takes notice of the architectural changes, sliding his hand on the wall surface as he walks. No paint on the walls. The floor is linoleum, no longer the old vinyl tiles. The doors are unfinished wood.
"They redid this whole place, didn't they, Supervisor?"
"Yes, Director."
"Why did they do it?"
The Supervisor explains, "To clean out any toxins and poisons, no matter how low level, that existed in the construction. The Council became concerned a year ago. So, a specialist team with gauges checked everything. They found asbestos in the older original bunker chambers. Certain plastics were giving off low levels of gas and losing integrity, and older rooms had traces of lead paint. Everything you see is remodeled with natural materials. It is fortunate they did. We've been in here for months, including the staff's children in the habitation sector, and everyone's health has been great."
The Supervisor leads Mr. Nix into a conference room containing a large arcing table with eight men and women seating around the sides, facing Mr. Nix as he enters. A ninth man sits in the center Chairman's seat. Off to the side are two Greys in one-piece protective silver suits but with helmets retracted. The base of the room expands upward into something grander, with pillar lined walls leading to a domed ceiling peaking at a pinnacle of grandeur. But everything has clean metal surfaces, bare wood and unpainted plaster walls, making the whole room appear under construction instead of the elaborate Council's Chamber.
The moment he sees the two Greys, Mr. Nix is taken aback but withholds his reaction, presenting a stone face. Despite his calm demeanor, those closest to Mr. Nix would be suspicious of his blank expression in the face of his sworn adversaries. If this confrontation was taking place anywhere other than inside the Committee Council bunker chambers, Mr. Nix would be alarmed.
However, Mr. Nix can see the Council is comfortable with the Grey presence, so whatever is going on here, for good or bad, he is in no immediate danger. He knows that the Council is too calculating for this to be coincidental. The Council brought Mr. Nix in front of the Greys most likely to gauge his reaction. To see if Mr. Nix can accept what is before him, or if he will revert into assassin mode. Mr. Nix learned to not react even if surprised until certain what type of reaction is necessary. He still has the upper hand, because even though the Council members are brilliant individuals who manage the affairs of the Committee, the Council considers Mr. Nix a spy supreme, having him vet, train, and handle the best spies the Committee has.
The Council Chairman addresses Mr. Nix, while the rest at the table stare.
"Director Nix, good to see you, alive and well. Your ability to survive and overcome has made you the most valued asset of the Committee. I must admit, I am surprised to see you here in DC. We expected you to be fortified within the Colorado Mountain Facility. Is that facility alright?"
"I can't say, Chairman. I haven't been there in some time."
"Where have you been?"
"I was monitoring a mission in Georgia when the power stations and satellites went offline. After the attack, I was the only one to survive. We lost a new agent and Colonel Kaliber there. The closest place to seek refuge and where I could find answers was here at the DC Headquarters."
"I'm sorry to hear about Colonel Kaliber. He served us well. On more than one occasion he emptied my wallet with his poker skills. But hearing his crazy tales of his early years as an enlisted man were worth the money lost. What were you doing near a power station?"
"I was following up on intel regarding a skin spawn attack on the United States power grid."
"Why did you personally investigate the intel?"
"An attack to the power grid could compromise this nation's defenses, and my ability to manage Committee operations. Such an event requires real-time assessment and command decisions, best made in the field."
"You never were an armchair commander. Who is running the Colorado facility?"
"I do not know who is in charge, nor the status of the facility."
"I find that hard to believe. Who did you leave in charge?"
"No one. My field operation was to end in twelve hours. I can only speculate who is in command, and speculation is inaccurate and irresponsible."
Mr. Nix knows who is in charge, for he discussed command hierarchy before he left. But he doesn't know what these Greys are doing here. The less intel he reveals on the Colorado facility, the safer they will be for now. He's never kept a single secret from the Committee Council before, but now, he's not sure he can trust them. But he can't show or express it. He needs to be compliant and express ignorance until he figures out what is happening.
It suddenly dawns on Mr. Nix why the Council's chamber seems incomplete. In their remodel which included removing paint, they removed the vast stories of the painted Committee mural that started at the top of each wall in this chamber and extended up the ceiling dome to the pinnacle. A mural that displayed the Committee's unknown dedication and valor to the people of this country from the time this institution was established by President Grant after the Civil War, to the last procurement of a Grey craft in the 1960s. That mural, like so many murals in courthouses and government buildings, was not there to impress visitors or for gawking guests. It was there to remind those who work and serve in these chambers their purpose, the importance of what they do, of the sacrifices before them, and to instill a sense of stewardship to a leadership position that can get lost in its own power.
Now, the mural is gone, making this chamber more hospitable for the Greys. The guidance and impressions the mural was to reflect onto the Council members is gone as well, wiped from the ceiling and memory.
Mr. Nix realized the Council may harbor suspicions regarding what he is feeling inside, but as long as he keeps his composure, Nix will be able to convince them of whatever he wishes. He must appear to agree with whatever is going on here, because no minds will be changed in the presence of these two Grey observers. Yet Mr. Nix knows he will have to present resistance first, to make his acceptance believable.
"Many were taken by surprise by the events that unfolded," states the Chairman.
"Were you, Chairman?"
"Was I what?"
"Surprised. Or did you foresee? These renovations weren't for us."
"We began the renovations because we had been communicating with the Grey central intelligence on having a summit. Since one hasn't taken place in fifty years, and that summit was on a remote surface location outdoors, we thought it was a good time to conduct talks again and see where the Greys stood in regard to humans. That's when we began the renovations. They informed us of the materials and chemicals we use that are toxic to them, and we removed them before the summit."
"Was having them patrol and destroy military units in the outer tunnels leading here part of the summit? If it was just a summit, why are two Greys here now in a private Committee Council meeting? I hope they don't find me rude I am not addressing them directly."
"They are here to observe, not participate. As for the destruction of our power stations and resource centers, and the presence of these observers, you have yourself to thank for that."
"You blaming me?"
"It's not blame, it is a fact. You went rogue. When we were in the early stages of planning the sum
mit, you destroyed a Grey deep-sea colony in the Pacific. Are you aware of how much you devastated their overall population?"
"That was the point. They were creating new species of Greys that could breed. With the intent to diversify and expand in numbers. Do you think they were planning to expand in the bottom of the ocean, or their undersurface city in the Moon? They were planning to take Earth back. An Earth they state is theirs by right, not ours."
"You don't know what they believe or were planning. You just think you know. A peaceful summit was their intent. Maybe they wanted us to share the Earth with them. But that is moot now, because you showed such hostility against them, killing so many, that in their logical deductive brains, allowing humans continued growth and development or believing they could trust us to participate a peaceful summit was no longer an option. You put them in a position to cull humanity to protect their own."
"I worked with the Council for decades and decades in finding ways to suppress or stop the Greys from having their way with humanity. Experimenting on us at will. Infiltrating and assassinating us with skin spawns. I put a stop to that, and you side with them as if I was the one who has done wrong?"
"No one was saying you aren't a great, loyal and innovative soldier for humanity. Even the Greys acknowledge that. However, we went from a peaceful summit, to the Greys telling us they will retaliate against humanity, and we must meet with them regarding the peaceful transition of a small human population that will live on Earth alongside the Greys."
"As equals?"
The Chairman hesitates to answer, "As cohabitators of the planet."
"But not as equals."
"We don't consider the other subspecies on this planet equals to humans. We don't give them the same rights. As intelligent as we are, the Council always understood that humans were a subspecies next to the Greys. Our fight against them to prove we are equals has failed. The entire planet is in chaos. Humans are killing humans over dwindling resources, and without power and fuel, we only have the capacity to sustain a small fraction of the humans on this planet. It is not the Greys' fault humanity overpopulated, expanding faster than we could sustain. There were millions of humans that lived in poverty under humanity's technological success. All the Grey destruction didn't affect those people, because they had no power, no fuel, no food or water before. The Greys didn't create that poverty. We did.
Nexus of Time Page 44