“That alone is cause for concern, but the transmission equipment onboard makes this a full-blown emergency. The signal is powerful, and someone is likely to hear it. It’s basically a massive beacon screaming ‘here we are; come find us at these coordinates; we’d love to talk to you.’”
“Let me guess. Your concern is the little green men who might respond to the message won’t be very friendly. Am I right?” Terrance asked sarcastically while shaking his head. “Don’t you think you’re over reacting a bit? There’s no evidence of any advanced alien civilizations. Single celled life forms on Mars and some moons around Saturn and Jupiter maybe, but nothing even remotely advanced.
“Plus, from what I hear, something would still need to be within a couple light years of the probe to pick up the signal. Even if the little green men do hear the message, who is to say they’ll even understand the content? It’s not like they’ll speak English, Russian, or any other language we use.”
“You’re wrong on all three points,” Mark responded coldly. “First, they used the one constant language in the universe – mathematics. Any civilization advanced enough to build space ships will understand the message without difficulty. Second, I have indisputable proof that advanced alien civilizations exist outside our solar system. And third, I know they reside directly in the probe’s projected course. Contact will only be a matter of time.”
The sarcastic smirk on Terrance’s face was now gone. It was evident he knew Mark was not joking and the matter truly warranted his concern. “Good lord, you mean stories like the Roswell crash sight weren’t just a bunch of nerds with big imaginations and nothing better to do? I’m a top executive in the NSA for Christ sake. I figured if there was anything to those conspiracy theories I’d know about it by now.”
“Deniability. You sure you want to continue with this?” Mark asked. With a silent nod from his boss he continued. “Only two people on the planet know the whole story, and maybe a dozen others are aware of some fragments of the truth.
“The best we can tell is back in 1947 two objects collided in the sky over Roswell, New Mexico. We’re not sure what one of the objects was, but the second was an alien spacecraft with four occupants. They were not little green men, or white men with large black eyes, as popular urban legend would have you believe. The best description of them would be seven foot, muscular dogs with short hair. Picture a Weimaraner on steroids standing upright.
“The ship was in pretty bad shape, but over the years we’ve reconstructed most of the components. It had dozens of weapons systems we still can’t figure out, and only minimal sensor or communications equipment. It was a war ship Terrance, plain and simple. I’m in no hurry to meet the aliens who built that ship, which is why the probe mission can’t proceed.”
Terrance got up from his seat, walked to a side table and poured himself a tall glass of scotch. He took a long drink, winced at the shock of such strong alcohol and then looked at Mark still sitting in his chair. “If that’s the case, what makes you think they don’t already know about earth and have chosen to leave us alone?”
“My belief is whoever sent the ship that crashed in New Mexico doesn’t know about our planet yet,” Mark continued. “We’ve evaluated every radar, communication, and telescope reading from the weeks and months before and after the crash and never detected any outbound transmissions. The ship simply came into orbit, descended directly to the Roswell location and was promptly hit by something, causing the crash.
“It all took place in about five seconds, so I feel confident saying the ship was destroyed before reporting their findings. Now the real question that keeps me awake at night is what caused the crash? Was the alien ship already damaged and simply crashed on its own, or did someone on our planet know these bad guys were coming and hit them with an object that destroyed their ship?”
Mark got up from his seat and joined Terrance in a drink. “This is where the radiation frequency comes into the mix. Nothing from the crashed ship works, but we have figured out the radiation frequency the weapons use. Our satellites, the Hubble telescope in particular, routinely pick up these frequencies. Also, a slightly higher frequency energy discharge usually accompanies these readings. It’s just background noise to everyone else, but my group knows what it is.”
Mark paused to make sure Terrance was all caught up before clobbering him with the cold hard facts. “Two sides are slugging it out in a massive interstellar war that spans across the entire central core of the galaxy. We’re just lucky as hell to be so far away from the action out here on the galaxy’s outer edge.
“A comparatively backward planet with vast natural resources and billions of able bodied people would be a very tempting target for either side of this war,” Mark continued. “We need to remain on the sidelines as long as we can. Having a loud mouthed probe screaming ‘here we are come find us’ heading for the war zone at the speed of light jeopardizes our national security. Hell, it jeopardizes the security of every living creature on this planet.”
Terrance let out a loud sigh. “Damn, I should’ve listened to you earlier. I didn’t want to know all this. The stars are going to look different when I see them tonight.” He took another long drink from his glass. “So what’s the plan to stop this probe? Clearly another accident needs to happen.”
“I have some irons in the fire already, and I’m heading down to Cape Canaveral for the launch just in case the fires need stoking,” Mark reassured his boss. “One way or another, that probe won’t function as intended.”
“So you’re telling me I can’t fire you until the probe is sabotaged?” Terrance grunted. “That’s all fine and good, but what are you doing to find the mystery people who shot down the alien ship over New Mexico, if they even exist?”
“As far as discovering who might have helped us,” Mark said. “My predecessors and I have been trying to figure that out since 1947. The truth is we’re no closer to an answer now than we were back then.
“About twenty years ago we noticed an energy discharge from this planet that coincided with the appearance of a full moon. The frequency of this energy pulse is an exact match for that other, slightly higher, radiation signature we detect coming from the galaxy’s core. With one exception back in 1989, the discharge is always on a full moon, lasts about five minutes and always emanates from a different location each time. That all changed six weeks ago when we started picking up the same mystery frequency every couple of days, and the signals are sustained long enough for us to locate their source now.”
“Christ,” Terrance exclaimed. “You’re telling me beings from the other side of this interstellar war are here right now.”
“Either that, or someone knows what I’m looking for and is trying to distract me,” Mark corrected.
Terrance added one other possibility. “Or maybe it’s all about you? I know your file and you’ve made some serious enemies over the years. One of them might’ve stumbled upon the perfect bait to lead you right where they want you.”
“Spoken like a true field agent, Terrance. It’s good to know riding a desk hasn’t dulled that sixth sense of detecting traps. That third possibility has not passed unnoticed either.”
“Let me know if you need any help in Florida,” Terrance said. He then finished his glass of Scotch and left the room without another word. His approval was overtly given for Mark to continue, yet he still had deniability if things went wrong. Riding a desk had definitely not dulled his ability to dodge dangerous situations.
Chapter 15: Leaving the Island
Hastelloy stood on the beach in the blazing sun stroking his long black beard. Good grief this was a hairy body he thought.
It had been nearly two weeks since the crew of the Lazarus came out of the regeneration chamber in their new forms. The bodies were quite similar to the Novi, only twice as tall, stronger, and most annoyingly, hairier. Thick, black hair grew on top of his head, around his face, on his chest and on down to his groin. Even the arms and legs had a
thin covering. As if the planet were not hot enough on its own, it was positively unbearable to be covered in this much fur.
It took his crew the better part of a week to work out all the kinks of their bodies and not stumble around and trip over their own feet like a child taking his first steps. Now they were fully functioning individuals, though not a functioning military unit anymore. To say that being murdered by their commanding officer and returning to physical life in these bizarre bodies had not gone over well with the crew was an astonishing understatement. On the bright side, the other four crewmen were bonding together in their loathing of Hastelloy. Even Gallono and Tomal settled their issues as they worked side by side on the boat construction project.
Gallono walked over to Hastelloy and stood at stiff attention, silently staring at his former friend and role model. As had been the protocol during the last two weeks, the crew would not speak to their Captain unless spoken to first.
“What’s the status of the boat, Gallono?”
The Commander stared straight ahead and shouted his reply as if he were responding to his drill sergeant back in boot camp. “Sir, Tomal is finishing his last test of the engine, sir. Sir, he estimates we’ll be ready to set sail within the hour, sir.”
This treatment by the crew was getting ridiculous, but he had to give Gallono credit. He found a clever way to annoy the Captain, and flat out mock his authority over the crew with the exaggerated adherence to military protocol. Hastelloy could only hope the crew’s frustrations would run their course and things would eventually return to normal.
“Very well, Commander, please take inventory of our provisions and have them ready to load. I’ll make a final review before we depart.”
“Sir, yes sir,” Gallono responded, which evoked a roll of the eyes from Hastelloy. He waved his first officer off and walked back to the ship and made one last inspection. Once he felt comfortable the Nexus was secured to operate without supervision he made his way to the mess hall. He ordered five field ration kits from the food dispenser, picked them up and headed outside.
“Everyone grab a pack. We’re going to need our strength to make the trek inland.” Hastelloy sat down at the makeshift dining table the crew set up for themselves under a nearby cluster of trees and began eating.
One by one the crew walked over, silently grabbed a meal pack, and walked fifty paces into the middle of the open beach and sat down on the sand. Their preference was to burn themselves in the sun and sand rather than dine next to their dishonored captain. Hastelloy hung his head and wondered how he would make things right with the crew again. He didn’t regret his actions. They were for the greater good, but he did make a critical mistake of underestimating the crew’s reaction.
After eating his field rations alone, Hastelloy walked over to where his crew assembled to eat their meal. “Gentlemen, let’s get to it.”
Without a word, the crewmen stood up and marched toward the vessel that would carry them to the mainland. The design was beautifully simple. The main hull was an eight foot wide, ten foot long box with four foot tall sides. The front end was angled at 30 degrees to push the waves underneath the boat and keep it afloat while moving at high speeds. Set about eight feet above the main deck and centered on the back of the ship was a rudimentary jet engine, capable of pushing the boat along at about 30 miles per hour with almost no sound.
The hull of the ship had only taken a few days to construct. The bulk of the time was dedicated to building the engine and incorporating the noise suppression elements the Captain insisted upon.
Hastelloy had to give credit where it was due. Tomal built the engine from the ground up without any instructions or manuals. He pulled the design straight out of his memory and engineering know how. The Captain was well pleased with the result, though he did take exception to some of the equipment the crew intended to bring onboard.
“This is a reconnaissance mission. The only piece of modern technology allowed will be one hand held navigation unit that I’ll control.” Picking up a mobile communications unit, Hastelloy continued. “These communicators and weapons need to remain on the island for now. We’ll use them when we make our final assault. If any of the Sigma species discover this boat it would be bad enough without them finding this equipment along with it.”
“Sir, yes sir. Sir, I figured you might say that, sir. Sir, may we at least equip ourselves with weapons that match what species Sigma will be using, sir?” Following a nod from the Captain, Gallono quickly carried the contraband equipment back to the ship and returned holding five long wooden spears. He put them in the boat and helped the others throw the hiking packs in. The only thing left to do was get in and set sail.
Valnor got down on his hands and knees so Gallono could use his body as a step stool and climb over the high sidewall of the boat. Gallono then reached back over with his arm and proceeded to help Valnor, Tomal and Tonwen into the boat. Hastelloy stepped forward and reached for the assisting hand but only connected with smooth metal.
The captain looked up to see Gallono staring down at him with his arm out of reach. The rage and hatred in Gallono’s eyes cut through Hastelloy’s soul, and a cold knot formed deep in his gut. Was his friend of a thousand years really intent on leaving him marooned on the island?
“If you were any other man I would stake you down to the sand and let the sea birds feed on your rotting carcass. Then I’d pull you out of the regeneration chamber and do it again, and again, and again.” Gallono said through gritting teeth. The look softened and morphed into a heart stopping grimace of disappointment. The look on his face took Hastelloy’s mind back to the first time he spanked his daughter so she’d behave.
“You should have trusted us to make our own decision for the benefit of the mission. I was the one who made the changes to the regeneration chamber. Remember? I knew your plan, and deep down I knew I needed to go along with it. My protest was a snap reaction. You should’ve trusted me to come around,” Gallono pleaded.
Shaking his head, Hastelloy responded softly. “I trust you like no one else alive. I was almost certain you’d agree with my decision, but I couldn’t take that chance. On your own you can overpower me in a fight, let alone me against the four of you. The element of surprise is all I had.”
Gallono bit down on his lower lip and then reached out his arm to haul Hastelloy into the boat. Not another word was spoken. Things were still pretty damn far from normal between him and the crew, but being allowed on the boat was a big step in the healing process. Hastelloy felt better than he had in weeks. “Fire it up, Tomal, and let’s get going.”
“Yes Captain,” the engineer responded as he ignited the jet engine and pushed the throttle forward.
As the boat pulled away from the beach and picked up speed, Hastelloy let a smile cross his face. The lack of hearing the ‘sir’ sandwich reply from Tomal was a beautiful sound. Returning his thoughts to the moment, he looked down at the navigation unit. “We need to turn left about five degrees, lieutenant.”
The boat shifted under his feet, throwing him against the side. While struggling back to his knees Hastelloy shouted, “Hold this course and bring us to full speed.” The whine of the engine increased and climbed beyond his body’s ability to hear the noise.
The tiny boat fearlessly plowed through the waves, tossing the five men up, down, and all around. Somehow, Tomal held his position and kept the ship on course while the others tried not to get bucked over the sides.
After nearly an hour of repeated bone jarring hits against the waves, the Lazarus crew finally spotted land. The beach extended as far as the eye could see in either direction with a few patches of vegetation scattered randomly across the expanse.
Hastelloy spotted a particularly large cluster of greenery and pointed it out to Tomal. “There, bury the boat in there.”
Tomal slowed to half speed and drove the boat straight into a thick cluster of bushes and seaweed along the shore. The boat skidded to a stop 20 feet into the shoreline
and was almost completely covered with foliage.
“Gallono and Valnor get out and survey the surroundings. Take your spears with you and make sure no one was nearby to see us land,” Hastelloy ordered. “Tomal, stay here for a minute while Tonwen and I step away to make sure the boat is completely covered.”
After clamoring out from underneath the foliage, Tonwen noted the top of the engine was still visible and glistened in the sunlight. With the movement of a few bushes and smearing some slimy seaweed over the engine to knock down the shine, the issue was resolved so no one would ever know the boat was there.
Tomal climbed out of the craft and walked over to rejoin the Captain. He gestured inland with a concerned look. Hastelloy turned around to see Gallono and Valnor escorting two Sigma species individuals toward the captain. Hastelloy walked quickly to meet them halfway.
“We found these two fishermen up the coast. They heard the commotion and were moving to investigate,” Valnor reported. “I am afraid they know quite well something’s in the bushes. What should we do?”
“There’s only one thing to do. Walk them back to their nets and kill them. Stage the scene to make it look like they had an argument and killed each other in case others come looking for them. I don’t want to give anyone a reason to get nosey and start looking around,” Hastelloy ordered with a level, matter of fact voice. “What they know could jeopardize our mission.”
Gallono moved to carry out the order, but Valnor needed to voice his protest. “How can you make us jump through so many hoops to protect this planet and species Sigma from cultural contamination and yet so easily order the murder of these men. These are sentient beings that deserve a chance to live. All they were doing was trying to feed themselves when they had the misfortune of running into us.”
At that moment, a wave of thunder rolled across the distant sky. Hastelloy looked to the west just in time to see the bright sun disappear behind a wall of dark, menacing storm clouds approaching. As shadows grew across the landscape he looked back at Valnor, who still wore a look of disbelief.
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