Quagmire's Gate

by Allan E Petersen

  Not wishing to concede authority to the mouse man, Whelan’s question was to the Major.

  “But why stall? What possible advantage is there in allowing the saucer to degrade to the point of being ineffective?”

  The mouse man was determined to justify his high position and responded,

  “Who the hell knows how a demented mind like that works? Stalling is what he is doing and shutting him down is what we are here to do. I put it to the committee that we immediately send troops to Deep Lab 6 and remove him from command.”

  Suddenly the Congressman snapped alert and at the risk of tipping his hand, bellowed forth,

  “No, that is unacceptable. It is imperative that General Irsthill remain in control of the facility.”

  Knowing that the room was staring at him, he suddenly felt uncomfortable. Senator Watson tried to deflect suspicious eyes off the Congressman by softly saying,

  “If there is something wrong or bothering him let me talk to him, perhaps I can straighten him out.”

  The mouse man interjected,

  “It is too late to clear things up. I have already contacted him and he refused to give up the facility. He has given orders for the few military people there to bar any attempt to get past the gate. In effect, he has placed the compound on Lock Down. It is time for action.”

  This time Senator Watson was adamant.

  “No, let me talk to him first.”

  Whelan was not the only one at the table wondering why the Senator seemed to be maneuvering for a stall in the go-ahead to remove the General. They all looked at him with a suspicious eye. Slowly the mouse man asked,

  “May I ask your reason for denying a proposal to remove him?”

  The Senator ignored the implied accusation and with the wave of his hand and in his best-controlled tone said,

  “No, it’s nothing. It’s just that I much prefer this situation to be negotiated rather than forced that’s all.”

  The mouse man had the last word and spoke with military precision.

  “The time for negotiations has passed. I have deemed General Irsthill to be of unsound mind. There is no doubt of that when hearing the recording. His crazed mind has for some reason decided to cut all communications with us.”

  He then looked to the Major and added,

  “I now authorize you to dispatch ground forces and physically take control of the lab and shut it down.”

  Whalen looked to the Congressman and saw that he was not able to hide an expression of dread.

  For the first time Miss Crammer spoke.

  “Gentlemen if my work is done I much prefer to leave military matters to the boys who understand that game. I for one do not. May I be dismissed Major?”

  The Major gave a polite nod and pointed to something behind her. Surprisingly, as she stood, she took the flash drive with her. Nobody objected including the surprised Whelan. Instead of leaving by the main door behind the Commander, she turned and walked toward a seemingly blank wall.

  As Whelan stared at her, he notice for the first time the outline of a door in the paneled wall. A push and it opened. Before disappearing, she turned back to the room, looked at Whelan and said,

  “I hope we can meet again Mister Christianson, under better circumstances of course.”

  Although hoping never to see her again, he accepted her apology with a slight nod.

  As Major Dickerson got up, he said,

  “Gentlemen I presume that I do not have to remind you of your oath of confidentiality pertaining to all matters of this meeting. As soon as possible, I shall muster men and advance on Deep Lab 6. Until then may I offer you the services of my Camp?”

  He then looked directly at the defeated Congressman Tait and said,

  “Have I offered you my condolences on the loss of your wife Congressman?”

  There was a meek reply,

  “No. And thank you.”

  “You have a long journey ahead of you. May I offer you a dinner first?”

  Congressman Tait could not get up fast enough. He was quick with his apology.

  “No, I’m sorry Major but I have pressing political matters waiting for me at home. Perhaps another time.”

  “Perhaps,” muttered the Major.

  With the slamming of the door, he was gone.

  Whelan was the next to leave. He wanted desperately to return to Deep Lab 6 and find out for himself the degree of lunacy in his General. As he got up, he heard the Major say to the mouse man.

  “Perhaps we should spend some energy and time finding out why the Congressman needed to leave in such a hurry.”

  The mouse man was already on it. He picked up his notes and scurried after him. Quickly the Major turned to the escaping Whelan and said,

  “And you Mister Christianson, what great urgency awaits you?”

  Before he could blurt out an excuse to leave in a hurry, the Major did it for him.

  “Are you desperate to get back to Deep Lab 6 to see what the matter with our insane General Irsthill is? Well, I approve. I am sure the others do as well. I am sure the General is not aware of our impending invasion of his Base. You do what you can to keep him occupied and distracted from our plan.”

  When Whelan Christianson’s helicopter approached Deep Lab 6, there was no sign of defensive maneuvering in compound. The above ground buildings looked as peaceful and boring as ever. However, there was one glaring infraction of procedure over by the main security gate. Because the Base was under quarantine, his men should be staffing it. There was nobody in sight. He asked the pilot,

  “Pilot, have your landing codes been recognized and approved?”

  The tinny voice returned,

  “Of course Officer Christianson, those are the procedures are they not?”

  So at least something was normal. As the chopper touched ground, Whelan, as anxious as he was to jump out, had to wait for the rotors to come to a complete stop. When finally they did, he jumped to the ground and walked away. At a safe distance, the chopper throttled up, lifted and spewed sand in all directions.

  With the chopper just a speck on the horizon, Whelan stood and scrutinized the compound. He did not see anybody in the tennis court or over in the track area. He was also surprised that Joseph Mann was not here to greet him. He never missed a chance to impress his boss. All the ingredients came together to produce a bad feeling that something was wrong. His bones tingled, as well they should.

  Chapter 21

  As Lynda and Professor Quagmire soar over countless mountains, Lynda was lost to thought. A sudden gust of wind jolted the helicopter and snapped her out of the musing. A voice came over the headphone.

  “Sorry folks, we just ran into a little air turbulence, nothing to worry about. ETA Deep Lab 6, five minutes.”

  She looked to the pilot but he did not turn around, keeping his eyes on the horizon and thankfully avoiding contact with mountains.

  She then looked over to the Professor. If he felt the jarring there was no indication of it, continuing to stare blankly out the window. Or he might have fallen asleep. Pressing the mouthpiece closer to her mouth, she said,

  “Professor?”

  He was not asleep. He looked up at the ceiling wondering where the strange voice was coming from.

  “Over here Professor.”

  As he slowly looked to her, there came to his empty eyes a hint of understanding that it was her voice. Lynda continued,

  “Professor. Nurse Maggie told me that you and some others are looking for some sort of key, a resonance signature for escaping to another universe.”

  After an expression of denial, he shook his head. Nevertheless, Lynda persisted.

  “It’s okay. You know you can trust me as I trust you. What is that key, what are you looking for and why do you think it’s at Deep Lab 6?”

  He slowly returned his attention to the window and observed each snowcapped mountain pass under them. She continued looking at him but if there was an answer coming, it was not going to be anytime s
oon. Thinking perhaps she had pushed too hard, she let it go and allowed the drone of the rotors to lull her into a blank mind. She was half lost to emptiness, no thoughts, no dwelling on fate, just a void when she heard through her headset,

  “We are looking for a dimensional signature.”

  She was not able to snap alert quickly enough to understand what she had heard. She managed to mumble, “What?”

  Ignoring her confusion, he continued,

  “Each solar system has its own unique vibrating frequency, a cosmic fingerprint if you wish. That specific vibration can be converted to a standard mathematical formula. That is what Professor Eldridge is in charge of discovering. I think the resonance of the bell you told me about chimes that exact frequency. I believe the bell is a key that will open a portal to another Solar system.”

  “Perhaps you might elaborate on that just a tad bit for us poor common people.”

  “It’s easy. All the orbiting planets in a solar system produce a unique frequency, different from all other solar systems. It is exactly the same for dimensions. All dimensions have a unique frequency signature. I am positive that the harmonics of the bell is the same as the dimensional signature of wherever that flying saucer came from. That bell’s chiming frequency is the missing equation to Professor Eldridge’s formula. I believe it is the key that will open a gate to another dimension.”

  He saw the furrows on her forehead and added,

  “It’s quite elementary, actually.”

  She does not know why her mind drifted away. Perhaps it was weakened by all this talk of other dimensions. Who would have thought that frequencies such as tones of a bell had the ability to cross a dimensional barrier? Her pragmatic mind has never allowed for such fanciful escapism. Her time in the military where pragmatism prevailed, coupled with the very hard science of bio-chemical medicine has kept such fantasies at bay. Albeit however implausible, she had to admit that there was a flying saucer in the lab.

  In her mind, she heard his words again, ‘It’s quite elementary actually’. How could he be so sure there was another world out there somewhere? In addition, if there was, who was to say that it was a hard world just like ours? She reasoned that if it was all around us but we could not touch or see it, it must be as ethereal as heaven. After all, he said it himself, ‘how many angels can dance on the head of a pin’? As solid as we are, how can we possibly cross over to an ethereal world and dance on that pin? She found it difficult to accept. Although she was slightly willing to consider the probability of such a world, her pragmatic brain was slowly pushing hard to the side of pessimism. No. Another world or even another place where people can somehow magically transfer to landed on the side of rubbish.

  Yet somehow what he was talking about, how ethereal things like thoughts, sounds and feelings, even music can cross the barrier seemed more plausible to her. This was easier to grasp than a physical entity crossing that barrier to defeat the purpose of the Babel Tower. There was something strong inside her that hoped it was all true. Gathering courage to ask the Professor a question that she hoped he would not laugh at, she turned to him and asked,

  “Professor?”

  There was no response. He seemed to be hypnotized by the ground passing under them. Perhaps her mouthpiece was not working. Bringing it closer to her mouth, this time louder, she again attempted to get his attention.

  “Professor?”

  He slowly turned to her and his tilting head implied ‘Yes?’

  She did not know where to begin. How does one ask a scientist about heaven? Slowly, trying not to make her question sound absurd, she formed careful words.

  “This other world you are talking about, do you really believe that it is possible to communicate with it?”

  Because there was no need to ponder the question, he answered quickly.

  “It is not just another world. It is another whole universe.”

  She accepted the rebuke. After all, she had to admit that she really does not know anything about it. There was a deep emotional reason for the profound question. That nagging passion to believe in a heaven was the proverbial straw that the drowning man needed to reach out for. She dearly wanted to believe that prayers could cross the barrier and be heard by those enjoying that dimension.

  The Professor was still staring at her, perplexed why she had called him. He had turned his attention back to the more interesting scene below when he again heard her tinny voice through the headphones.

  “If I accept the possibility that intangibles like sound and thought can transcend this barrier you keep referring to then I must also believe that something as natural as memory can do the same thing.”

  Because it was a question, she waited for a reply. Nevertheless, he did not see it that way and again wondered when she was going to get to the point. Eventually she realized what he was waiting for and added,

  “Once you die do you think it reasonable to assume that the soul brings memories of this world to heaven with it?”

  “Do you mean can a soul in Heaven remember its past existence in this world?”

  This was getting awkward. Yes, that is what she meant but she wondered if it was coming out right. Searching for other words, she fumbled along.

  “Yes, Heaven. I’m talking about when you die and go to heaven do you think that person still remembers things from this life. Might memories go with that person?”

  He looked at her quizzically and slowly said,

  “I suppose there might be a dimension out there somewhere that could be the domain of God. Who is to say until one gets there? If you are about to ask me if it is my intention to open a gate to heaven and sneak in while nobody is looking, then the answer is no. I’m not too sure I actually believe in such a euphoric place anymore.”

  Lynda’s reply was terse.

  “Well I do. If you do not mind my saying, I certainly hope to end up there some day.”

  She was quick to add,

  “Not soon, I hope.”

  The pilot’s voice came over the earphones again.

  “Deep Lab 6 is just around the next mountain folks.”

  Lynda snapped alert and followed the Professor’s downward gaze. She was surprised to see the single road leading to Deep Lab 6 had a lot of traffic on it. From this height, it was impossible to tell what type it was, cars or trucks. Regardless, there were many of them. She knew it was odd to see such a parade of traffic racing toward a secret laboratory. Again pushing her mouthpiece closer to her mouth, she asked,

  “Pilot, have you noticed all that traffic down there? Isn’t that odd?”

  “Yes Doctor, I saw it when we cleared the mountain range. It seems to be an army convoy of some kind. I recognize the personnel carriers. That’s those big trucks with the tarps over the back of them.”

  She asked,

  “Why are they going to Deep Lab 6?”

  “That I don’t know Doctor. I tried to contact the convoy but they are either not receiving or are operating under Radio Silence. No matter what happens they cannot be reached or stopped.”

  “That’s a tad bit severe isn’t it?”

  “Not in time of war but now, yes it seems excessive. It is an old army strategy. This way even if there is an order for them to turn around, they cannot receive it.”

  “But Deep Lab 6 is just a scientific laboratory, albeit a secret one. What’s the big deal?”

  Casting a concerned eye downward, she pondered why a convoy of army personnel might be racing to Deep Lab 6. There were too many of them to be a relief exchange. Even for the short time she had been at Deep Lab 6, she had never seen that many soldiers there. When they do shift relief, it was always one at a time, never like this. She noticed that the Professor also seemed captivated by the string of traffic down there. Slowly he turned back to Lynda and said,

  “Something bad has happened at Deep Lab 6.”

  A premonition of danger suddenly came to her. It was a feeling as menacing and clammy as a wet blanket pulled over her war
m body. Only one thought surfaced. If something was wrong at Deep Lab 6 then why are we going there? She asked the pilot,