Quagmire's Gate

by Allan E Petersen

  The last introduction was to the lone female in attendance. Although amazed to see her here, he realized that he should not have been surprised. The Commander was aware they knew each other and said,

  “And you already know General Irsthill’s secretary, Miss Crammer of course.”

  The look between them was as awkward as she obviously felt. She afforded him no more than a furtive acknowledgment with guilty eyes that quickly darted back down to the file in front of her.

  It was a shock to learn who the real spy was and instantly the meeting took on an ominous air. Whelan suddenly realized that he might have the wrong files in his briefcase. Clearly, this was not going to be an advisory meeting pertaining to the death of Jimmy Hatcher and his security officer. All he could do now was mentally regroup and pray that he was properly armed for whatever was coming at him. He was not.

  He was thankful that no eyes stayed on him to notice his sudden nakedness. He felt exposed and unprepared for what was coming. The Major put his Vodka down, looked at Whelan and said,

  “Mister Christianson, perhaps you would care to indulge us with the events of the last few days over at Deep Lab 6.”

  No he would not but he was not politely asked either.

  That half glass of Vodka in front of the Major suddenly looked very inviting to Whelan. Looking toward Miss Crammer, who remained transfixed on her files, he mustered enough strength to make it look like he was not surprised. The trick now was to sound that way. He asked,

  “May I speak with impunity Major?”

  “Do not fear retaliation from us. We all have an Apple Jack clearance here.”

  He then began.

  “Well, as you know Deep Lab 6 is a facility funded by the Astrophysical Securities Council with resources derived from the operation budget of this Camp. When the flying saucer was - - -,”

  The mouse man suddenly cut him off.

  “It has not been established that it is an extra-terrestrial flying saucer.”

  All eyes turned to the mouse man. Whelan’s thought was blunt. ‘What the hell did he want everybody to think it was’? Even Major Dickerson stopped gulping Vodka. He too wondered what they should be calling it. He interjected,

  “Perhaps we could please all aspects of the Government here Mister Christianson by simply referring to it as a ship.”

  After shrugging his shoulders he meekly said,

  “Yes Sir.”

  Again, the mouse interjected,

  “That also has not been established.”

  “Yes,” conceded the Commander, “but we have to refer to it as something don’t we. I would rather we refer to it as a ship than just a piece of pie. Do you mind very much if we just call it a ship?”

  The mouse man seemed to ponder the request. With all eyes on him, he eventually shrugged his shoulders and Whelan continued.

  “When the ship was brought to Deep Lab 6 the task was to retro-engineer the propulsion system. However, it did not take long to realize that it was an advanced technology not tolerant to tampering. It appeared that the problem began when fiddling with things not understood and using antiquated tools as well as poor intelligence. Somehow, we have reasoned that we can discover things by reckless abandon. We have done something to the ship that we cannot reverse much less turn off.”

  The ‘mouse man’ squinted, pointed a finger at Whelan and said,

  “But we have already learned something from it have we not?” We now understand that it is powered by an anti-gravity propulsion system?”

  Whelan was quick to respond.

  “That may be true. However, keep in mind that we do not even know what gravity is. Even anti-gravity propulsion systems, although supposedly perpetual, is still speculative. I agree with our Theoretical Physicists who state that because of the almost impossible distance between the stars, it would be an exercise in futility to consider propelling a solid object through that great distance. That ship did not come to us by travelling through space.”

  It was obvious that the mouse man was not pleased to hear any of this. He tried to sound authoritative but nobody in the room noticed it.

  “Yet, isn’t that what the whole project is about? Is that not why I approved the budget, to discover the propulsion system. I mean that ship got here somehow didn’t it? So obviously it has a propulsion system doesn’t it?”

  Whelan felt good rebuking the man.

  “No sir it does not, at least not in the sense that we understand propulsion systems. This was made clear when the scientists bombarded the shell with short and long photon particles. That was when the problems started. With recent discoveries we think that the ship can create dimensional phase distortions. They think that the craft’s shell is designed to somehow match pulse harmonics with another dimension, enabling it to travel between them.”

  The Vodka had not slowed the Major’s mind. It was now his turn to quickly interject.

  “Mister Christianson, this is a whole new ball game then isn’t it? Here we are thinking we could simply retro-engineer it and now you are telling us we do not even know what it is. Moreover, a new science has to be invented before we even have a chance to copy the technology. Temporal fluxes, space distortion, what on earth are we getting into here. Are you suggesting that thing somehow teleported here?”

  “No Sir, that’s the stuff of science fiction writers, certainly not hard science.”

  Frustration surfaced and the Major bellowed,

  “Well then, how the hell did it get here?”

  “That’s just it Sir, we don’t know. Perhaps a better question might be how do we get out of something that our incompetence got us into? Let me repeat that we have somehow ignorantly released anti-matter and we do not know how to stop it.”

  There was silence in the room. Whelan got the impression that he was talking over their heads. These people are budget approvers and secret keepers, not scientists. Major Dickerson clicked his empty glass onto the table and asked,

  “Very well. If nothing else, then we at least recognize there is a dilemma at foot.”

  He then looked sternly at Whelan and asked,

  “Are you sure the hole in the floor is expanding?”

  Although Whelan wanted to emphasise the importance of the danger, little did he realize that he was not overstating the fact.

  “Yes Sir. It is expanding at an alarming rate and I repeat we do not know how to stop it.”

  The Major accepted the dire situation and in a weak effort to do something said,

  “Very well, why don’t you tell us what is needed and we’ll get it for you.”

  “That’s all well and good Major but I’m only the Security Officer there. I am only reporting what the scientists have told me. It is not as if I understand the scientific needs of the situation. May I suggest you get in touch with General Irsthill about that? He seems to have a finger on the pulse, at least understanding the situation better than myself.”

  As Whelan looked at the Major, the back of his neck started to tingle. Something was wrong and it was not the strange way the others looked at him. He suddenly realized that he had said something wrong but did not know what it was. The game of eye tag between everybody at the table created nervousness throughout the room.

  Finally the mouse man squeaked,

  “Very well, I will take it from here Major Dickerson.”

  The hairs on Whelan’s neck suddenly started doing the Mexican Hat Dance. How was it that a lowly civilian could suddenly assume dominance over a Base Commander? Looking at the Major, Whelan was sure he saw relief, actually pleased that he was relieved of the chair. The Mouse man directed his comments to Whelan.

  “It has come to our attention that General Irsthill has lost the capacity to command the project. I have set wheels in motion to have him replaced. This should take no more than a few days.”

  As Whelan quickly darted his eyes from one person to the other, he saw that he was not the only one greatly surprised. Senator Watson’s jaw was so agape i
t seemed it might come close to resting on his belly. The biggest surprise of all was the way Miss Crammer took the news. She tried her best to hide a grin. When she realized that Whelan was staring at her, she dropped her eyes to the table. It seemed to Whelan that she tried her best to look innocent.

  As hard as he tried, Whelan’s will power was not strong enough to pull the vodka across the table toward him. Giving up he asked,

  “May I ask about the grounds for this demotion?”

  Although Whelan was looking at the Major when he asked, the Mouse Man replied,

  “It’s probably not going to be a demotion so much as a bi-lateral move, a command elsewhere. He is your Commander and so I naturally understand that you would be concerned. However information has come to light that makes him inappropriate for command at Deep Lab 6.”

  Whelan was not sure why Congressman Tait suddenly spoke up to defend General Irsthill. It was obvious to Whelan there was desperation in his tone.

  “I don’t think I have to remind anybody here of my political position and authority over this meeting. I find it highly inappropriate that anybody at this table feels they have the authority to replace a member of that project by their own authority. For numerous reasons it is imperative that General Irsthill stays in command of the project.”

  Suddenly Senator Watson interjected,

  “I concur. I will veto any action by this Committee to remove General Irsthill from the project.”

  The Mouse Man was having none of it. Despite his meek appearance, there was nothing timid about his tone or sudden air of authority.

  “I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way Senator. This is a ‘show cause’ meeting. It is obvious from the start that the General has not only mishandled the funds but the research protocols as well.”

  Regardless of the cutting remark, Congressman Tait fervently continued to show support for the General.

  “How dare you suggest misappropriation of funds? If you have proof, then table it for discussion.”

  The mouse man suddenly sounded stronger, saying,

  “It is not theft of funds but rather misuse of it. It has come to our attention that he does not want the focus to be on retro-engineering the propulsion system so much as diverting funds to discovering what Chief of Securities Officer Whelan Christianson is talking about, Dimensional warping or anti-matter technology or whatever all that means. We have reliable intelligence that he is focused on a mandate of his own, one that certainly was not sanctioned by this committee. He is attempting to discover a temporal distortion, a gate to another dimension for some personal and insane reason.”

  As much as he wanted to intervene and defend his General, Whelan’s prickling nape hair was telling him to shut up, to sit still and listen. The Major asked the Congressman,

  “Why are you and the Senator so adamant that the General stay as Commander of the project? Do you know something we do not?”

  Nervousness engulfed Congressman Tait. He tried to sound confident but failed.

  “I simply mean to imply that General Irsthill is operating the project under the auspices of this committee. We control the budget and therefore control him. If he is doing something wrong then we should call him to task. It just seems severe at this late stage of the project to replace him.”

  Senator Watson interjected,

  “Especially with such weak assumptions.”

  When the Congressman and Senator were finished their strange defense of General Irsthill, Whalen noticed that the Major and mouse man were staring at a rather nervous Miss Crammer. Finally the mouse man again took charge and said,

  “Weak assumptions? Before I ask Miss Crammer to produce proof of his insanity, I must say to both of you that I have become very suspicious of your defense of this man. Shakespeare comes to mind. I think you protest too much.”

  Suddenly Whelan was glad he had kept his mouth shut and listened. He noticed that the Major was still intently staring at the uneasy Miss Crammer. He seemed to be waiting for her to do something. The Congressman and Senator looked scared and Whelan wondered why. However, because Miss Crammer started to pull something out of her briefcase he did not get a chance to dwell on it. She plugged a flash drive into her computer and just as she was about to press the ‘start’ button, the mouse man said,

  “For the sake of time this is an edited recording. Adding to the validity of the editing, Major Dickerson as well as Miss Crammer and I will attest to its accuracy.”

  A second later, they were listening to General Irsthill. Yet despite knowing it was the General, Whelan could not help but sense something was different about his voice. Somehow, the General sounded crazed. He was not surprised to hear the slurring. They all heard,

  “When the daughter of the Lord of the Underworld is returned, and a sacrifice of the ‘other of men’ is accepted, a great army will be released to strike vengeance upon those who kidnapped her. He who returns the daughter to the Lord of the Underworld shall be made ruler of my army and king of the Middle World.”

  Whelan could not understand what his General was babbling about. Without a doubt, it was the General but he wondered what part of his mind was missing to recite such nonsense. As the General babbled on, Whelan raised his eyes to look at everybody at the table. Like him, it was clear most did not understand the irrational babbling. That is, all except Congressman Tait and Senator Watson. To Whelan’s great surprise and confusion, the Congressman’s eyes looked reverent. It appeared as if he was savoring a pious sermon. Senator Watson’s lips were moving in harmony with the General’s crazed words. It was as if he knew every word by memory.

  Whelan then glared at Miss Chamber. She felt cold eyes on her and sheepishly looked up at him. Realizing she had been discovered, she exuded guilt and quickly looked back down at the computer. The babbling on the Flash Drive continued.

  “Who shall be the ruler of the Middle World? If the Gate has opened to you, then fear not the first step. No harm will come to those who worship me by braving a leap of faith.”

  As the tape continued, it appeared that everybody was grateful for the editing. The babbling rambled on and on about who should rule the world. Whelan had never heard this side of his General before and wondered where it was coming from. There was no doubt that the bottle had affected his mind. He noticed that the two Politian’s were the only ones without a concerned expression. Both took it all in stride and at times showed a great empathy for the monotonous repetitions.

  With a dismissive wave of his hand, the Major signaled for Miss Crammer to turn it off. Reluctantly, for there was much more proof, she muted the recording. The lull that ensued gave Whelan time to ponder the jolt. No doubt there was some misconstrued rambling about a lost angel to be returned to some ungodly place and a reward offered for her return. Whelan’s thought was clear, who on earth would be naïve enough to believe that by returning some lost daughter of a mythical demon would make him ruler of the world. He looked again to the Congressman who still bore an air of reverence.

  The Major was the first to break the silence. He looked directly at Whelan and said,

  “So now you understand why Irsthill was so willing to let a mere Doctor of medicine look into an anti-matter leak. He had no intention of calling in experts to close the hole. The so-called hole that he somehow created, at least to his demented mind is apparently some kind of gate to an Underworld. It was by the direction of the General that the Deep Lab 6 scientists release the anti-matter creating the hole rather than the projects mandate to discover the propulsion system. We are most thankful to Miss Crammer for her diligent work in exposing this heinous plot.”

  She actually blushed and tried to suppress a smile. The mouse man interjected,

  “Yes of course. Thank you for doing your job Miss Crammer.”

  He then turned to Whelan and said,

  “Now you know why he delayed the investigation of the hole by two days. That was the reason he sent the Project Doctor on some wild goose chase. It was to stall and
wait for the hole to get bigger.”

  It hit Whelan like a hammer in the back of his head. Of course! What better way to secure the lab than by getting Doctor Gray to quarantine it and then send her away. No doubt that was why he ordered her to go and get a scientist to explain the hole who had an even bigger one in his head. No wonder he insisted she take a staff car and drive instead of flying to Roads End. It was all a stall for the hole to get bigger. A question bounced back and forth in his head. Why did Irsthill want the hole to get bigger?