by D F Capps
She nodded. “Yes. That’s exactly what it means. Somehow the aliens can track these pieces anywhere.”
Sean leaned back in his chair. That might be useful, he thought. Especially when zipping through outer space in a flying saucer. “Which means they can track you anywhere?”
“Sure,” she replied, a grin spreading across her face. “Until I have it removed again.”
Sean wondered why the Zetas put up with her removing the meteor pieces. “Do they seem upset when you have the pieces removed? Angry, maybe?”
She shrugged. “I think it’s more of a game with them. The next time I’m abducted they replace the piece. There’s never any comment one way or the other.”
“Huh,” Sean said. “Would you mind if I took one of the pieces and had it analyzed?”
“No problem.” She went into the kitchen and returned with a Zip-lock snack bag. She put one of the pieces inside and sealed the bag. “I know how to get more of them.”
Sean pursed his lips and nodded. He examined the small chunk inside the plastic bag.
“There’s more.” She led him into a short hall in the back of the house. “When they come for me, they usually float me out through the bedroom window, over there.” She pointed to a small bedroom off to the left of the hall. “But one night I fell asleep with the TV on. They took me out through the hall and floated me through the back door.”
Sean slowly approached the door. A faint image appeared on the glass. “Is that what I think it is?”
She nodded again. “When they floated me back into the house, one of those creatures was out in front, at the edge of the bright light, leading the way. The next morning I found this image in the glass.”
He had no trouble identifying the image. It was a Zeta Grey face. “And it was left on the glass?”
She shook her head. “It was examined by one of Dr. Jackson’s associates. The image is inside of the glass. Parts of the image appear all the way through the glass.”
He turned to her. “May I take a photo?”
She nodded again. “It helps if you have a white background.” She pulled a piece of white poster board from the hall closet and held it up on the inside of the door. “Light’s better from the outside.”
He pulled out his camera and stepped out onto the back porch. She’s obviously had other people who wanted a photo of the alien face, he realized. With the bright afternoon sun, the image stood out clearly. He took several shots and came back in. “Why do you think it appeared in this piece of glass and not in the bedroom window?”
She shrugged. “Different kind of glass? Maybe the creature was too close to the edge of the beam. I don’t really know.”
Sean stood looking at the image in the glass again. “Did Dr. Jackson see this?”
“Oh, yeah,” she said.
Sean grinned slightly. “What was his reaction?”
She chuckled and looked at him. “He just stood there, frozen. He must have stared at that thing for twenty minutes without moving.”
This was the moment, Sean thought. Dr. Jackson’s leading me through the same journey he traveled. First the leaves embedded in Amanda’s hair, then the bits of meteor embedded in Laura’s arm, and then the image embedded in the glass. He nodded and grinned. This was the moment when Dr. Jackson knew it was all real.
* * *
General McHenry arrived in San Diego late in the afternoon by a commercial flight and made his way to Coronado Island. The recent shakeup in the military command structure had left several SEAL teams without senior command officers. He found Commander Pedder at the end of the obstacle course.
Pedder looked McHenry’s uniform over and frowned. “You lost?”
McHenry smiled. “Not entirely. I work for a four-star admiral now, if that helps.”
Pedder turned his head slightly, but kept his eyes locked on the general. A four-star general under the command of a four-star admiral? That was a new wrinkle. He glanced at the name tag on the general’s uniform: McHenry. There was a McHenry that was in command of the army, who also disappeared in the military shakeup.
“What can I do for you General?”
McHenry looked around. No one was close enough to hear them. “You can take ten minutes to listen. I have a proposition for you and some of your men to consider.”
They sat on a log and talked for a while. McHenry left Pedder sitting on the log, going through the new orders and transfers in his hands.
Late that night McHenry greeted the next group of eighty-three men of the U.S. Space Command Army as they boarded three V-22 Ospreys headed for Southwestern New Mexico.
* * *
Conrad Kaplan rocked with the gentle rolling of his yacht, Dominator II, as he reviewed the profiles of the military officers who would be at the interceptor missile demonstration. The air force generals were interested in the new missile technology, but he didn’t want just interest. He wanted someone who needed the new missiles; someone whose pride could be wounded by a Russian attack.
General Sadowski’s family had immigrated from Biała Podlaska, Poland, to America in 1962. Sadowski was born in 1967. They reportedly spoke Polish in their home. Sadowski had been part of the NATO defense system and came up through the ranks in the army tank corp. He’s personally attached, Kaplan realized. He tapped on Sadowski’s profile and nodded.
Being a vice president with the second largest defense contractor in America, Kaplan had kept up on military activities around the world. He had to. Anticipating what the military was going to need was his personal key to success. He checked his military activity calendar. Russia was starting a military training exercise with Belarus in the Brest area. He pulled out a map of Eastern Europe. As he suspected, Biała Podlaska, Poland was close to Brest, Belarus. An opportunity like this didn’t come along very often. And the best part was General Sadowski was part of President Andrews’s inner circle.
It just didn’t get any better than this.
Chapter 17
Diane approached her wingman, Glen Simmons, as he came out of his room after breakfast.
“You’re into Zen and esoteric things, what do you know about mind-to-mind communications?”
Half a smile crept its way into his expression. “Didn’t think you were interested.”
“In Zen, not so much. In how the mind works, yeah, I’m curious.”
Simmons pursed his lips and nodded slightly. “The human mind is a remarkable thing, but it takes training, often years of meditation and focus exercises to realize its potential.”
She grinned. “Like what?”
He glanced up and down the hall. “Why don’t we step into my room?”
Once the two of them were inside and the door was closed, he continued, “Buddhist monks have demonstrated some amazing things—becoming invisible to other people around them, levitating heavy stones over hundreds of feet in the air, and communicating over several thousand miles.”
“Can anyone learn to do that?”
Simmons nodded. “With training and dedication, yes. It’s a natural human ability.”
Her thoughts went to Charlie and his ability to not only read her mind, but to place his thoughts into her head. “So, the mind-to-mind thing. Exactly how does that work?”
“There are four primary levels, or sets of frequencies, on which the brain functions: beta, the normal awake range from fourteen cycles per second on up; alpha, the dream state, from fourteen down to seven cycles per second, where most people are asleep; theta, a deeper sleep state from seven to four cycles, where physical healing takes place; and finally, delta, four cycles per second and under, which is normally a full unconscious state for most people.”
She shifted her weight to the other foot. “You said for most people. Are there people who remain awake and alert at these levels of mind?”
He smiled. “There are, but only through extensive practice.”
“Mind-to-mind?”
Simmons nodded. “Takes place in alpha, and is the easiest
to attain.”
She shifted her weight back again. “In delta?”
“Invisibility, levitation, moving objects with the power of your mind, and more. It’s also the most difficult level to attain.”
That’s how Charlie does it, she realized. He uses deeper levels of mind and concentration.
She tipped her head slightly. “So to talk with another person mind-to-mind?”
He stared at her for a moment. “First focus on the person. Hold an image of that person in your mind. Once that is solid and real to you, focus on a mental image, a strong thought or feeling. Keep in mind the receiving side is a subtle thing. You have to trust your intuition and go with it.”
My intuition, she thought. Charlie used it as a gateway into my mind. Maybe it will work the other way around, too. “Thanks.”
She walked to the door, then stopped and turned to face him. “Is there some kind of privileged communications, like with a priest in Zen?”
He shook his head. “We don’t have anything like that. But I’m a good listener. I keep a lot of things to myself.”
Diane thought back to when she learned that Helen and Clay were secretly married. He certainly kept that quiet.
“I killed three Zeta Greys,” she said.
He looked saddened and motioned for her to sit on the bed. “Up close and personal?”
She nodded. “It wasn’t like shooting down a saucer. I thought I would feel something, but I don’t. Is that wrong?”
He sat on the bed next to her. “It’s a little hard to explain, but I’ll try.”
She turned to face him.
“The first line to be crossed is intent. There are some poisonous snakes in a number of our temples. They lose their fear of us because of our lack of intent to do them any harm. They also lose any aggressiveness toward us for the same reason. Snakes and many animals have what we call simple consciousness: they are aware of the conditions around them and what they instinctively need. They have no real concept of self, as people often do. They do not discern the difference between things that are true and what is false. They live in a world of appearances and think and respond accordingly. They will only attack when they feel threatened, challenged, or out of instinctual hunger. They have no clear intent to harm.”
Diane frowned. “I hadn’t even thought of animals in that way, but it does make a certain amount of sense.”
He paused for a moment, took a breath, and continued. “Most people have self-consciousness: they can reason, discern between true things and false appearances, and they can form intent, either to do good, or to harm.”
She nodded. “I’ve heard of this. It’s part of the practice of law, isn’t it?”
“It appears there, too,” he said. “A person must know the difference between right and wrong and have formed the intent to do wrong or to hurt another being. Otherwise they shouldn’t be held liable for their actions.”
She tipped her head and focused on his expression. He was calm and serious. “So if a person only has simple consciousness they can’t be held accountable for breaking the law?”
He pursed his lips and nodded slightly. “It doesn’t mean we don’t confine them in an institution so they can’t do any more harm, it just means we don’t punish them for their actions. Punishment wouldn’t have any meaning for someone who doesn’t know right from wrong.”
“But the Zeta Greys?”
He took a breath in and breathed out slowly. “While they don’t have our sense of right and wrong, they still form intent, and act on that intent to do harm. They intentionally harm innocent people and animals. As conscious, moral beings, we have an obligation to protect the innocent. That’s why I’m here. Ultimately, I believe that’s why you are here as well.”
She looked over at the wooden Buddha on his dresser with its bulging stomach and huge earlobes. “So we either have self-consciousness or we don’t?”
He shook his head. “It’s not that simple. There are multiple levels of consciousness, not just two.”
She frowned again. “How many?”
“I don’t know,” he said, with a slight shrug. “I know of four, but there are probably many more.”
“Such as?”
He looked over at the Buddha statue. “He represents the level of cosmic consciousness, as far above self-consciousness as you are above animals with simple consciousness. The large ears represent the ability to listen to the interactive universe and understand the course of events. They also represent long life, or eternal life. The large belly is a symbol for the wealth of knowledge and wisdom achieved with cosmic consciousness. The protruding forehead represents the full development of the frontal lobes of the brain and our ability to communicate with the interactive universe.”
Diane shifted on the bed. “And the fourth level?”
He nodded. “Master consciousness.”
She was fascinated with what she was hearing. “And what’s that like?”
Simmons shrugged. “My teacher has cosmic consciousness, so he can relate to me what the experience is like. I have an intellectual understanding of cosmic consciousness, but not the actual experience. In the long process of spiritual growth within cosmic consciousness, we slowly learn to discipline the mind, to focus and train it. Through training the mind, we gradually overcome the limitations of the physical world. We overcome gravity, time, and space. We eventually overcome the need for a physical body. That’s master consciousness.”
She leaned back slightly. “How long does that take?”
He smiled and glanced at the Buddha statue. “Many, many lifetimes, I’m afraid.”
“But some people overcome all of those things?”
“Yes. They no longer appear as people. They become beings of light: spheres of living light. They are not limited by gravity, solid matter, time, or space.”
“Huh. We have so far to go,” she said, deep in thought. “About the three Zeta Greys . . .”
“Like a dangerous animal that is harming people, we have a moral obligation to either confine them, or to put them down so they can’t harm any more people. They won’t accept reason or rational arguments from us at all. So their intent to do harm combined with their harmful actions leave us no real choice. We must take action against them.”
She nodded, remembering Charlie’s explanation that the Zeta Greys made the Tau Cetian war against them necessary. We’re in the same boat, she thought.
She thanked Simmons then walked back to her room, deep in thought. Once there, she sat on the bed, closed her eyes and slowed her mind, just as she had with the question cascade when she was with Charlie at Ceti Research. A question cascade was an extremely rapid telepathic technique that enabled a person to gain a large amount of information in a short amount of time. She held his face in her mind and zoomed in close to him, as if she could actually reach out and touch him.
His head tipped, and he spoke to her. Yes?
It jolted her and she opened her eyes. Great, she thought. I pop in, and then right back out. What’s he going to think of me?
She closed her eyes again, slowed her mind down and focused on his face once more. This time he was smiling.
You’re learning—ask.
Why poetry? How did you know it would work?
All Zeta Greys, reptilians, and insectoids have a single brain. Think of it as a totally left brain thing. No feelings, no empathy, no creativity, no warmth, or understanding—just pure logic. Poetry is a fully right brain function. Mind control depends on the left brain. By using the right brain exclusively, you can break the mind control. Strong emotions, like anger or hatred will also work, but when the left brain is under mind control, emotions can be difficult to generate—so, poetry.
When the Zetas try to use their logic against poetry, it doesn’t work, he continued. They have no internal reference for something that is completely right brained. It breaks their concentration, and thus their mind control.
And something else, she thought. Iodine.
A neurotoxin to many non-human species. Beneficial to humans.
Is it toxic to you?
No. I’m as human as you are.
Thank you.
You’re welcome.
She opened her eyes.
Chapter 18
President Andrews studied the faces seated before him in his private office. The consortium of oil, natural gas, and coal executives was skeptical, at best.
“I have come into possession of some advanced energy technology,” Andrews began. “It will provide us with the ability to produce essentially unlimited amounts of electricity anywhere in the world, without fuel and supply lines. It is completely clean with no environmental impact whatsoever.”
Wilber Jared scoffed. “Do you know how many times we’ve heard this kind of pitch? It’s all just a pipe dream. Coal is still your cheapest fuel for electrical power plants.”
Andrews pushed a single piece of paper across the table to Jared. “We built one according to the specifications on this sheet. Take a look at the bottom line.”
Jared raised an eyebrow. “How long has it been running?”
“Two weeks.”
Jared looked at the sheet again. “Under full load and without fuel?”
Andrews nodded.
Jared shook his head. “It can’t be done. You can’t create energy out of nothing. It has to use something for fuel.”
“I understand your concern. That’s what I used to believe, too,” Andrews said. “The reality is that we live in an ocean of energy. This machine extracts the energy from the natural energy field of the Earth and turns it into electricity.”
Jared frowned as he read the specifications on the sheet once more. “How long is it supposed to run without fuel, maintenance, or repair?”
“Seventy years,” Andrews replied. “At which point we re-magnetize the key spots of the machine and it’s good for another seventy years.”