“Okay, fuckface!” shouted the Admiral.
He began to walk around the man, and over to the door to the Oval Office.
Two Secret Service agents stepped in front of him.
“Sir, state your business!” the closer of the agents said to the Old Man.
“I need to see Mr. President, and I mean now!” he said.
The Old Man was not used to being told no, especially as regarded his conferences with the Commander in Chief.
Most of the time, he played their stupid game, but the real players knew that when he came calling, it was time to step aside and let him go see the Man.
One of the agents tilted his head, as he listened to his earpiece.
He motioned to the other agent, and they took up defensive positions away from the door to the Oval Office.
Admiral Reginald Decker didn’t like the look of that.
“Sir, we have direct orders from the President that you are not allowed to go into the Oval Office today. Furthermore, we have been instructed that, should you not immediately leave, we are to place you under arrest. If you resist, we have orders that lethal force is authorized. You are now being asked to remove yourself from these premises, pursuant to USC Code 18, Section Four,” said the first agent.
The two men unholstered their PS-90 PDWs and aimed at the Admiral.
Drawing himself to his full height, he saluted the men, then turned around and walked away, as carefully as he could manage.
He only drew breath when he had reached the outdoors.
The Old Man returned to his office, locking the doors and activating the secure telephone lines.
When he got a signal, he typed a five-digit code into a keypad.
“This is Decker. We have a real problem. Get me Derek White, and Brett Ghent,” he spoke into the phone set.
He paused a moment.
“And, get me Doctor Hartmann,” he added.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“You all understand that what happened in that compound is 100% top secret to the highest levels of your clearance, and then some, right?” says the Old Man to the Alpha Team.
The men are clustered around an immense mahogany desk, in a secured conference SKIF.
“I still can’t believe it, mon,” says Travis.
“It happened. It was real. Maybe you can’t understand it. I know I don’t. But it is what it is,” said Derek.
“Man, I saw it and I still can’t tell you what I saw!” Walt exclaimed.
“Okay, well here is the ‘official’ word, gentlemen, and it will only be told to you once, and then you are to forget it, understand?” says the Old Man.
The men all listen with rapt attention as he continues.
“You were witness to a top-secret space-based defensive weapon known as Thor’s Hammer,” he says.
The men all look at each other, incredulous.
“Excuse me, Sir, but that’s not exactly what we saw, is it? What really happened?” says Derek.
“Son, I am being very patient and you are being very dense,” the Admiral replies.
“It was aliens, dude,” Mike 2 quips.
“You aren’t all that wrong, there, Sergeant,” the Admiral says.
“But, officially, this was a test of a Rod from God kinetic kill vehicle that ‘malfunctioned’. The casualties were none. Zero,” he says, grimly.
“With all due respect, Sir, there were at least a hundred men at the compound, and not all of them were sanctioned via our Gatling or other small arms,” said Walt.
“Sanctioned, eh? That’s a nice word, Corporal,” says the Old Man, warming to his kill.
Suddenly, Admiral Reginald Decker rises to his full height.
“Ok, ladies here is the fat! You all witnessed the use of a heretofore unknown force being harnessed by four individuals who have been ‘amplified’ by the use of nanotechnology. They joined their life forces and removed the threat simply because they could, and did. We don’t know why or how it works, we just know that it does, for certain individuals. These individuals are now being quarantined, for observation. No, you may not ask further questions. No, you cannot be ‘amplified’, because everyone in this room has been tested and does not qualify,” he shouts.
“Surprised? Angry? Guess what? I do not care. I do not give one tiny FUCK about you or your opinions on this. You are to follow orders. If any of you ends up captured and tortured, your official story is ‘Rods from God’. If you say anything else, I will hunt you down, tear off your lying, traitorous head, and shit into your lungs! You got that?” he yells.
A chorus of men erupts in the room.
“SIR, YES, SIR!” they all shout, to a man.
The Old Man, feeling every one of his long years as a warrior, sits down in the mahogany chair behind his desk.
“Thank you for telling us the truth, Admiral,” says Al.
“Or at least as much as we can handle, mon,” says Travis, grinning.
“Dismissed, that is all,” says the Old Man.
As the men leave the room, he glances at some papers.
“Derek? Travis? A moment please,” he says.
The two men close the door as the last SEAL walks out.
“What is it, Admiral?” asks Derek.
“Our telephone conversation, it has been validated, and I need your help, son,” he says.
The two SEALS looked at each other.
“I have a mission for you, and it is going to be problematic,” begins Admiral Decker.
The two men stare at each other, again.
“Problematic, Sir?” asks Derek.
“Sit down, men,” says the Admiral.
He pulls out a bottle of Maker’s 46 from his travel bag.
Then, he puts three shot glasses down on the smooth, clean surface of the desk.
The shot glasses reflect in the shiny desktop.
“Have a drink, you’ll need it,” he says as he pours.
—————
CHAPTER EIGHT
I wake up.
I am in the stateroom of the ‘Miss T’, the gentle rocking of the waves lulling me, urging me back to the blessed slumber from which I struggle to leave.
But, I can’t, not right now.
Bone is next to me.
His smooth back is facing me, and his rhythmic breathing mimics the sound of the ocean, the quiet murmurs of his body telling me he’s living and part of my life, once more.
I turn over, and there is Karl, lying on his back, snoring like a buzz saw.
I wonder where is Stephan, and then I see him, looking out the porthole.
My beloved brothers, my superhuman men.
My lovers.
—————
Once Om and Moms were on board the plane, we flew away from the shattered wreckage we’d made of the compound.
I don’t know what exactly happened, but I do know that there were one hundred and four living beings that no longer exist because of what we – what I, did.
Stephan and Karl and Bone had only tried using the Melding as a weapon one time before.
It was mainly as a sanctioned test by the Old Man and the Facility.
They tried to stop a rocket with the Melding, and it was more or less a success.
The rocket fell to the ground because the motors had stopped working.
The reason for that was that all the fuel had vanished.
Organic compounds, hydrogen, and oxygen, were evaporated.
The rocket had no fuel.
It fell, and that was it.
Melding that way was painful, and also exhausting.
The three men had been completely useless for almost a month, dropping into a coma-like state that had the Facility scientists baffled.
It wasn’t like what had happened to Derek, after the Sands attack.
Stephan, Karl, and Bone were definitely aware of what was going on around them.
They just couldn’t move very much.
Almost as if their bodies were recuperat
ing after enormous physical efforts.
And, so, they were expecting it to happen when they went off during Om and Moms rescue.
Stephan only decided to Meld at the last moment because he saw Om and not Moms.
He pretty much lost it, as much as Stephan ever could.
And, Karl and Bone would have followed him into the jaws of Hell just then.
They just didn’t account for little old me, I guess.
—————
When I entered their zone and began to Meld, there was a difference.
Stephan explained it to me later, in that there was a leveling effect.
For some reason, the three of them felt restrained, or that they were holding back.
But, when I Melded, they felt completely at ease with each other, and me.
We shared something uniquely ours.
It transcended the physical.
We knew what we wanted to do, and did it.
The threat evaporated, like drops of water on a hot skillet.
The men who had attacked Om and Moms simply went away.
We really don’t know to where, and, honestly, we don’t care.
—————
The only obvious side effect to this was that we didn’t need a whole month to recover.
This time.
—————
I looked at Stephan.
I knew more about him now than I imagined he knew about himself.
I knew he was questioning the whole ‘amplification’ process, OCTAVIUS, and how we all fit together.
As a family.
As lovers.
And, as something maybe even he didn’t want to think about.
As mates.
—————
Following our return, the Alpha Team were rushed off to the Facility for debriefing.
Derek told us that we would be under the care and protection of Black Dog, courtesy of Brett, for now.
The Old Man set aside some special time for us, to debrief separately, and planned on it occurring in thirty days, based on the rocket incident.
We all were wiped out.
The three of us stayed conscious just long enough to make sure Om and Moms were safe and in the best of medical care.
Om had been shot twice, but both had been through and through hits.
The nanobots had immediately sealed the blood loss, and he had benefited from our Melding, even though not physically with us.
His strength had quickly returned, not the least because of Moms babying him relentlessly.
She wouldn’t let anyone except Al next to them, and only then when she wasn’t carrying on around Om, making sure he was extra special comfortable and tucked in.
Moms and Om.
It’s enough to make you barf, except it’s really special, now that I know.
—————
It became pretty obvious to us that we weren’t going to do the thirty-day coma boogie, so Karl suggested we take off on the ‘Miss T’ and get some downtime.
Stephan agreed, for once, after telling Brett and Brian that we’d decided we were not going to use Black Dog, and that they could repurpose them.
Kim and Brian wanted to come along, but we all agreed not this time.
Derek and Megan seemed to be doing okay, now that he was back in business, and wished us well as we sailed for parts unknown.
I hope they can make a baby soon.
Or, that they can pay us a special visit.
—————
We have Julie, Tanya and Dean crewing for us, once more.
Three days out of port, and I am beginning to feel a bit horny.
—————
CHAPTER NINE
Have your men been informed of the planned rendezvous? They know what to do?
Yes, Brother.
Don’t fuck this up, Harlon. Not like the compound.
That wasn’t our men, not our resources, Brother.
It was a foreseeable error on your part.
How can you think that?
If you had followed my instructions to the letter regarding Indian Wells, we’d have no further need of…
Damn you! I told you that was something beyond our control! That fool lawyer!
There was more to it than that, Harlon. You realize that now, do you not?
You think that a Melding was responsible for our losses at Indian Wells? At Ocaba Bien?
We didn’t know the signature of such an event at those times, so we really had nothing to go on, now did we? But, now we do.
If nothing else, that old Nazi fool gave us a gift in being able to observe some of the parameters involved.
How did they find Om, though? I wonder…
How do you think?
We have a traitor in our midst? Are you sure? Who?
Think, brother, think…
Hmmmm. One of the three Jaeger men, perhaps? Certainly not the girl.
You name the one, and I will tell you if you are closer.
You are in the right church, but the wrong pew, as they say.
Well, we’ve already infiltrated Black Dog and Pecker. That loathsome thing…
Ask yourself who benefits the most from our… help.
Have you located Ophelia?
No. Yes. Perhaps.
Why do you insist on these infernal games, Jonathon? I am your blood!
Half-blood!
No! We are the same! You know I am full-blooded as you!
Really?
You believe that, do you?
That you have the blood of the True King, full-borne and noble, in you?
I was borne of the same woman as you!
Walter was my identical twin! Not you, Harlon! Never you!
We were triplets! There were three of us!
Yes, but your mother was a whore, Harlon.
While Walter and I shared a saint.
You bastard!
No, Harlon, that would be you!
—————
Wernher Hartmann looked out at the compound.
It was in total ruins, now.
He walked down to them, leaving his motorcycle on the road.
It was a short walk and would do him good.
When he arrived, he noticed the bodies of the dead men.
There were a number of them, one of whom had been stomped to death.
He was wearing an old SS uniform.
Really, he thought, these neo-Nazis really needed to get better wardrobes!
He grinned, and anyone who would have seen that visage would have trembled with fear at how ghastly the grimace appeared on his face.
Wernher had seen his share of horror, and even caused much of it.
But, the corpse at his feet was pretty mangled, and, in his professional opinion, had been manhandled more than was required for simple neutralization, or even a sanctioned termination with extreme prejudice.
Looking more closely, Wernher realized that the man had actually been nearly decapitated by someone seizing his esophagus and squeezing it nearly in two.
The power behind such a grip was staggering.
It required pressure and torque of a tremendous amount.
The man’s head probably exploded, blowing out the eyes and tongue.
The stomping was merely the act of an angry person, and totally superfluous to the fatality of the strangulation.
Well.
His son always did have a temper, he thought to himself.
All of his line had that trait.
Boned 3 (Mandarin Connection Book 6) Page 8